Chapter Nineteen #2
“I feel good.” His voice was still, weak but there was a glint in his eye and a light, easy manner about him. He turned his attention to Gus. “Can we get you some breakfast?”
“No, sir.” Gus stepped back. “I’m good. I need to get to work.”
He needed to be away from Sunday and her questions.
From his father’s probing gaze. He didn’t give them a chance to say another word and headed outside.
He took the steps two at a time and then jogged to his truck.
His chest was tight. His mind was all over the place.
He leaned against the vehicle and stared at the ground.
It took a bit, but he cleared the crap from his brain and relaxed.
He’d landed in the middle of a mess and only had himself to blame. His family situation was a lot more complicated than he’d realized, and now, with Faith in the picture . . .
“Fuck me.”
He grabbed his tools and started for the path that led to cottage four. He’d get through his day, then go and see Misha. She knew something. A piece of the puzzle he’d missed. It was time for answers. Time for some truths. Maybe time to come clean.
* * *
Gus left work early. His plan was to grab a shower before heading over to Misha’s, but he paused on the landing a few feet from Faith’s door.
Distracted, he stared at the door for several moments because he wasn’t sure if she was at work.
He knocked quietly, but there was no bark from Taco, and she didn’t answer.
He’d catch up with her later. Hoped to be home well in time for the winery.
By three-thirty, he was showered and pulled on a crisp white button-down over a pair of plain khaki shorts.
He drove downtown and parked just up from the diner, then walked to the flower shop, where the nice lady behind the counter advised him that a dozen yellow roses were perfect for an old friend.
Crooked Lane looked exactly as he remembered, including Misha’s little yellow house.
It had been recently painted; the shutters were crisp and white, and the flower boxes underneath them were overflowing with hot pink and purple petunias.
He jumped from his truck, and she greeted him at the door with a smile and open arms.
“Don’t you look handsome,” she said with a wink as she accepted the roses. “These are beautiful.” Misha stood back. “Come inside.”
He’d always loved coming here as a kid, and when he spied the fresh batch of homemade oatmeal cookies on the kitchen table, he grabbed one with a smile.
“Don’t eat too many. I don’t want you to spoil your supper.”
He turned to her with a grin. “Is that chicken stew?”
She grabbed a vase and began to arrange the roses. “It’s my paprikash, yes. I made extra dumplings.”
“Is there any other way?”
Misha was from Europe, a mixture of many cultures, and the woman knew her way around a kitchen. She was hired to cook for the Boones as a young woman, but she’d become much more than that. She’d been the grandmother he’d never known. A kind face and soft words in a world of uncertainty.
Remembering his reason for coming dampened the joy he felt seeing her, and while he set the table and she doled out her stew, they made small talk.
She caught him up on her family. She’d never married or had children but was extremely proud of her nieces and nephews.
Most had gone on to college and done well for themselves, but her great-grandniece had just been accepted to MIT, and she was beyond proud.
“That girl is going to change the world,” Misha said with a nod, sitting down across from Gus.
The two of them talked about nothing that mattered as he dug into his meal, but by the time he finished.
the mood had changed somewhat. He knew something was about to change; he just didn’t know what it was.
And it was the unknown that made it hard.
“Now tell me about you.”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. Mom moved us to Boston after we left. She had family there, so it made sense. I finished high school and didn’t have a plan, so I joined the Navy and became a SEAL.
Traveled the world and saw a lot of it. Most of it not so good.
After I resigned from the service, a buddy, Walker, and I decided to start a business together.
High-tech security that keeps me busy. We decided our base would be DC, and I’ve called it home for a few years now.
“And you had time to come and live here for a few months.”
“I’m the boss,” he said with a wink.
“No family of your own.”
“Nope.”
“Never been married.”
“Never come close.”
She gave him a searching look but said nothing more. Gus cleared the table, and Misha made hot chocolate to go with the cherry cake. Once that was done, they sat down again.
“A little bird told me you’re seeing a woman in town.”
Gus raised an eyebrow. “What little bird would that be?”
“Tully. I ran into her at Sprinkles, and we got to talking.” Misha reached for some cake. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Faith, and I’m not sure what we are, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I wasn’t asking anything of the sort. I was just wondering who she was.” Misha nibbled on her cake. “I don’t know this Faith, but Tully seems to like her.”
“She’s easy to like.”
“I see.”
Gus didn’t take the bait. He wasn’t here to talk about his relationships or lack thereof. He was here for some answers.
“Are you going to tell me what it is you’ve been wanting to say?” He kept his tone light, even though he felt the exact opposite.
She looked conflicted. “I don’t know if it’s my place, but I suppose it’s time.” She pointed to the living room. “Shall we?”
He followed her into the room and sat on the sofa while she took a seat by the window. Misha was anxious. It was written across her face, clear as day. She fiddled with her mug of hot chocolate and then, with a soft sigh, looked up. “What did your mother tell you? About that night you left?”
“Nothing. I remember it was dark and that it was snowing. I remember falling asleep in the car and when I woke up, I was in a bed that wasn’t mine, in a house I didn’t know.
” He paused because the memory was as fresh as the night it had happened.
“It smelled like lilacs.” He frowned and then shrugged. “That’s all I remember.”
Misha slowly nodded and spoke softly. “Has she ever told you the reasons why she left?”
“Not in so many words. A lot of what I think, is based on what I remember feeling and none of it was good. My parents hated each other. They fought all the time. Porter shouting. Swearing. Mom crying. We were scared of him.” He glanced away as the familiar anger rolled through him.
“I think she had enough and left in the middle of the night because of her fear.”
Misha pursed her lips. “I’m going to tell you the things you need to know. Things your mother obviously never shared. I’m not judging her. Please know that. But you’re here looking for those answers and I don’t have the heart to keep them from you.”
Misha cleared her throat and sat back. “Your Uncle Marshall and your father were not just brothers. They were best friends. Those two were less than a year apart in age and inseparable. Marshall was full of life with the biggest laugh and the brightest smile. He was the light of that family and Porter loved him. We all did.”
“I’d never heard of him until Porter mentioned a brother a few weeks back.” His voice was barely a whisper, but Misha nodded, her face sad.
“I’m not surprised.” She set down her mug and clasped her hands together. “Marshall had been away at college, and one summer, brought home a girl.”
“Mom.”
She nodded. “Yes. Lord but every man in Fire Lake was in awe of this beautiful, blonde girl with big brown eyes and the kind of smile that chased away anything sad. Your grandmother had just died, and she brought life to that big house. Was the only person who could make your grandfather smile and Lord knows but he was a hard man to please. Marshall was smitten and she loved him.” Misha glanced up.
“Your mother and Marshall fell in love.”
None of this was expected, and Gus’s jaw tightened.
“Marshall was working toward a business degree but dropped out halfway through fourth year and joined the service. It sent shockwaves through the family. Marshall had always been tapped to take over the business and Porter had other plans. You’d never know it, but Porter was artistic.
He was a dreamer. A writer. And he hoped to compose the next great American novel.
” A sad smile tugged at her mouth. “Hemingway was his favorite.”
It sounded so far-fetched. Almost laughable. But Misha was dead serious.
“By this time Marshall and Clarice were engaged, and she came to live here in Fire Lake while Marshall was deployed overseas.”
“Desert Storm.”
Misha nodded. “It was a terrible thing that played out on television screens across the world. To watch that unfold is something I won’t forget.
And knowing that Marshall was over there fighting made it that much harder.
” Her eyes softened. “I can see this is hard for you. To hear a history that no one deigned to tell.”
He didn’t know how to answer, so Gus said nothing.
“Marshall went missing. We were told he was killed in action. There was no news. Nothing.” She sighed and shook her head.
“Within a year, Porter and Clarice married. I think they found comfort in each other because they both loved Marshall so much. I would like to think she had real feelings for Porter . . . I don’t know.
But the household changed. It was as if a light had gone out, and your grandfather didn’t survive his grief. He died a month after the wedding.”
This was something Gus knew.
“They carried on the way married couples do and settled into a routine of sorts.” Misha’s hands were busy — her anxiety ramped.
“But then, six months after the twins were born, Marshall showed up at the house. He wasn’t the man who’d left.
Far from it. But he was home, and that’s all that mattered.
” Her eyes misted, and her voice caught.
“We were all so happy. So incredibly relieved but . . .”
“But?” he prompted.
“He created problems for Porter and Clarice.” Misha wiped a tear from her cheek.
“She still loved him. Marshall felt betrayed. And your father was angry at them both. His situation. At the world. Marshall moved off the estate. He bought a place in town and for several years things were okay. Not great, but not as terrible as those first few months. Porter and Clarice lived their lives and Marshall kept to himself. Then the rumors started.” Her sad eyes fell. “You know how small towns can be.”
“What rumors?”
“That Clarice and Marshall had started up again. That it had been going on since he’d come back from the war. That . . .”
That knot in his gut was harder than ever, and Gus got to his feet. “Just say it, Misha. I need to know.”
“There were those who believed that not all of the Boone children were Porter’s.”
For some reason, none of this surprised Gus. “Did he make her leave? Did he think none of us were his? Is that why she left Ford and Sunday behind?”
Misha got to her feet and grabbed hold of his hands. She held them tight. “I don’t know. The only person who can give you the rest of the story is your mother or Porter.”
He noted she was careful not to call him his father.
“What do you believe?”
Misha took a step back. “I believe the day Marshall left for war the Boone household was forever changed. I believe that love can sometimes be destructive. I believe that disappointment and fear bring out the worst in all of us.” She looked at him with wide, honest eyes.
“I believe that we are all human and make mistakes and sometimes those mistakes appear unforgivable. I believe that not all of us deal with those mistakes gracefully and knowing you’ve hurt someone is hard.
Knowing your actions destroyed a family is harder.
” Her voice was just a whisper. “Ultimately, I believe to find true peace and happiness we need to forgive. We need to find a way past our own pain. Can you do that, August? Forgive your parents for being human? For being flawed?”
Mouth tight, he shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Will you do me a favor?”
He nodded, throat so damn tight he didn’t trust himself to speak.
“Try.”