Chapter 22
twenty-two
T he lights of the ball field blurred into a kaleidoscope against the inky black sky as Noah’s heartbeat pulsed heavy in his ears. “What are you doing here?” His dry voice caught in his throat as he pushed past Elisa and met his father outside the dugout.
The remaining players quietly slipped past them, heads ducked as if anticipating what was coming. Across the field, those still oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere chattered as they clomped down the bleachers, the scent of popcorn and hot dogs hanging thick in the air.
“Can’t your old man come for a visit?” Dad—Russell—spread his hands wide, his performance smile fully locked and loaded. He’d gone gray early in life. Growing up, Noah had heard him referred to more than once as a “silver fox.” He hadn’t known back then what that meant, but always figured at least the cunning part was right. Today, a smattering of gold rings—none on his actual ring finger, of course—and Ralph Lauren jacket boasted of the success he’d always shot for and usually achieved.
Just never in the things that mattered.
Noah stared hard at his father and tried to reconcile the impossible with reality. “Actually…no. I mean, you never have before.”
“Well, times can change.” Russell lowered his arms, apparently accepting Noah wasn’t coming in for a hug. “Good game, son.”
A myriad of thoughts flung themselves at his brain so fast Noah couldn’t catch any of them. He hadn’t prepped for this.
Not that he could have if he’d known.
“You can’t walk in here and say that.” He clutched his duffel strap, frustration welling in his chest. “You didn’t even come to Grandpa’s funeral.”
“Couldn’t get away. Don’t worry, I lit a candle.” Russell shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. The smile Noah used to believe was genuine still hovered in place like it’d been painted on. “Been busy with the hotels. You know how it is.”
Russell’s rote answer reminded Noah of the response he’d given to old friends in Magnolia Bay over the past several months. Been busy with the inn .
Noah’s chest tightened at the comparison and he backed up a step, swinging his bag across his body so its bulk filled the space between them. He glanced over his shoulder at Elisa, who had frozen in the doorway of the dugout, eyes wide as she watched them. Maybe he should introduce them—scratch that, his dad didn’t deserve to meet her.
But no, she wasn’t staring at his father. She was staring at hers , stalking across the field toward them with fists clenched at his side.
The inevitable registered two seconds too late. Isaac charged at Russell, his face and throat as red as the color he was surely seeing. “How dare you show your face here?” He muttered a name Noah couldn’t quite make out but could easily guess.
Russell held up both hands, his ever-ready smile still firmly in place. The one that had gotten him out of or justified so many contentions over Noah’s lifetime. “Hey, I’m just here to see my kid.”
Noah’s stomach tightened. Lies . Had to be. Why now? Why not six months ago for his own father’s funeral? Where was he then? Probably locked in another failing relationship.
Isaac stepped a foot closer. He pointed an inch from Russell’s nose, his own nostrils flared. “Then you’ll have no problem getting on a plane and going back to whatever havoc you came from.”
Russell smirked even as he eased back. “I appreciate the travel tip, but I’ve got unfinished business to attend to here.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of unfinished business, trust me.” Isaac’s chest heaved with each breath. He swung around to face Elisa, his voice brittle. “We’re leaving. I’ll walk you out.”
“I—I’m not ready to leave yet. Noah and I still have some work to do.” Elisa darted a glance at Noah, then hesitantly pulled the clue card from her back pocket.
Oh, no. Noah flinched. “Elisa, I don’t know if this?—”
“Let me guess.” Isaac’s lips thinned as he drew himself to his full height. “That blasted project?”
“It’s not a project, exactly. It’s more like a treasure hunt.” Her words faltered, stammering.
Isaac snorted, his fists still clenched. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You don’t understand.” Clearly flustered, Elisa gestured with the card. A warm breeze stirred the air, raking her hair back from her flushed cheeks. “It’s all part of Mr. Hebert’s will. He included me in his inheritance?—”
“Gilbert Hebert had no business including you in anything.” Isaac’s eyes turned to slits. “You know what? That’s enough. It was one thing for you two to mess around when you were teenagers, but this—” He waved a finger between her and Noah. “This is too much. You know better, Elisa.”
Pain flashed across her face. She kept her chin up, but her lips trembled, fighting back tears. The hand holding the card drooped to her side.
A rush of anger welled inside Noah. It wasn’t remotely fair for Isaac to take his rage out on his daughter. This wasn’t how he’d wanted Isaac to find out about the hunt—especially not with the inn’s inspection still unresolved.
But he couldn’t stand by while the man berated his daughter. He drew a tight breath. “Sir, with all due?—”
“Wait a minute. She’s yours ?” Russell pointed to Elisa, then at Noah. “And you two…” He leaned his head and laughed. “Man, that’s ironic. Apparently I’ve missed the good stuff.”
“That’s it.” Isaac launched, issuing both a curse and a wild swing toward Russell’s jaw.
Russell ducked, but took Isaac’s second hit on his shoulder as he attempted to sidestep. “Hey!” He shoved him. “Watch it.”
“Dad, no!” Elisa rushed forward.
Noah threw out his arm to stop her, but she slipped under it, grabbing at her father’s shirt. The men wrestled upright, exchanging blows and ignoring Elisa’s feeble attempts to break them up.
“Elisa!” Noah reached to yank her back just as she wedged between the two men, straight into the thick of it.
Straight into the danger.
“Stop!” Noah lunged into the fray and caught a fist on the chin—from whom, he wasn’t sure. He reeled backward, straight into Elisa, who went sprawling to the ground. He stumbled over her leg and went down hard next to her.
But the sound of a solid fist connecting with flesh demanded his attention more than the throbbing on his face. He regained his balance and leapt to his feet in time to see blood pour from Russell’s nose. All pretense and arrogance was long gone from his face. He swiped at his jaw, then turned and spit blood. “You’re going to regret that, Bergeron.”
“You killed my sister.” Isaac’s tone could have chiseled steel. “I’m not going to regret anything.”
“What?” Noah’s head jerked toward his father, who kept his eyes on Isaac. “What is he talking about?”
“Dad, let’s just go. I’ll go with you.” Silent tears tracked Elisa’s cheeks and her voice wobbled. “Come on.”
“What did he mean?” Noah directed the question to Elisa now, but she could only shake her head. His own head spun, and not only from the blow to his chin. He knew her aunt had passed away, but had no idea when or how.
Apparently those details mattered.
“You never told your son what you did to Rhonda? Figures.” Isaac’s eyes were wild as he paced in front of Russell like a caged tiger. “Go ahead. Tell him. Tell him how you lured my sister into an affair, then dumped her before she even had time to get her head on straight.”
“It takes two to tango, and you know it.” Russell growled, wiping his nose again. “I’ve sure made some mistakes in my life, but I didn’t kill anyone.”
“She called me.” Isaac was yelling now, either oblivious or not caring that they weren’t alone on the field. “Rhonda called me. That night, on her way home from where you had invited her over just to use her and send her packing. She was beside herself with guilt.”
Russell scoffed. “I’d finally come to my senses and called it off. Not my fault she couldn’t see the wisdom in that.”
“It was your fault you let her leave that way.” Isaac’s voice rang with years of pain. “You’d both been drinking and she’d been crying hysterically for half an hour, at least. How dare you let her drive?”
Noah stared at his dad. He was responsible for Rhonda’s death?
“That was fifteen years ago!” Russell raised his voice to match Isaac’s. “Are you really trying to have this out now?”
“We would have sooner if you hadn’t run away. Like a coward.” Isaac’s eyes filled with disgust. “But yes, you’re right. This ends now.” He jumped at Russell with another wild swing.
“No!” Elisa’s cry blended with a sudden shrill whistle that rent the air. Sheriff Rubart and the same dark-haired deputy that had been at the courthouse burst through the field gate toward them. “Both of you, hands where I can see them! Now!”
Sheriff Rubart wasn’t playing. Noah had never heard that tone before, and he hoped he never would again.
Noah took several steps away from Isaac and Russell, reeling. Processing. Had Elisa known about Rhonda? Of his dad’s involvement? Wouldn’t she have told him? But how could she have not known how her aunt died…He searched her face. Her expression reflected tears. No confusion. No shock.
She’d known.
His stomach felt squeezed into a vise. The past was replaying itself in vivid color. Blindsided with news about their families at the worst possible moment. Elisa, crying. Isaac, in a rage.
He refused to let this end the same way again.
Noah reached for her. “Elisa, we need?—”
“I said both of you.” Sheriff Rubart pointed at him, one hand resting on the gun holstered at his side. His eyes shot fire. “Right now.”
“Me?” Shock flashed through Noah’s veins and he automatically lifted his hands. “I thought you meant them. I didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t want to hear it. It’s clear what’s happening here.” He gestured between Noah and Russell. “You’re both under arrest.”
“What?” Russell sputtered. “This man attacked me! I was just standing here.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Sheriff grabbed his cuffs. “Hands behind your back, Hebert. I’ve got you both for disturbing the peace and assault.”
Russell spit another round of blood as the Sheriff wrenched his hands behind him. “What about him?” He kicked one leg toward Isaac.
The cuffs clicked into place. “Leave the police work to the police.”
The lanky deputy hesitantly approached Noah with another set of cuffs, his eyes pleading for Noah to take it easy on him. Noah bit back his protest as he reluctantly moved his arms behind his back. They weren’t going to clear up this miscommunication here, not with the sheriff refusing to listen to reason.
“I know your type. Both of you.” Sheriff grabbed Russell’s bound arm and turned him around toward the gate. “Your son was in the back of my patrol car a few days ago. Nothing ever changes with you Hebert men.”
The words pierced Noah’s heart with all the finality of a death knell. Arms behind his back, he allowed the deputy to propel him across the field behind his dad. He cast Elisa a desperate look over his shoulder. Surely she’d say something. She’d witnessed the entire thing. She knew the truth over who had attacked who.
But she stood quietly with her lips pressed together, visibly shaking as Isaac draped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close.
And just like last time, she didn’t say a single word as Noah walked away.
* * *
“You have to do something.” Elisa followed her dad inside her childhood home, catching the door he swung shut behind him. The house smelled like nostalgia and leftover spaghetti.
Her dad dropped his keys on the entry table, his tone low. “You’re upset. Go home, Elisa.”
“This isn’t fair.” She fought to keep her voice in check. It wouldn’t do any good to get emotional with him, but it felt impossible when every fiber of her being screamed from the inside out. She crossed her arms over her chest as she attempted to hold herself together. To stay calm. “You can fix it.”
“How?” Dad turned in the hallway to face her, his face distorted with leftover anger. “By turning myself in? Taking Russell’s place in the cell?” He shook his head hard. “No, this is the least that horrible man can do after everything else. He deserves it and more.”
Elisa pressed her lips together, holding back the truth she was dying to release as she followed her father into the kitchen. The same space where she’d cooked with her mother over the years, tasting various sauces they’d created and adding cayenne pepper like confetti while dreaming of the restaurant they’d open together.
The same kitchen where she’d fixed her mom endless cups of hot tea with honey and experimented with different flavor combinations after the chemo made everything taste metallic.
How had their family come to this?
Tears, born of memory and regret, pressed against Elisa’s throat until she couldn’t breathe. The look on Noah’s face as he was being shoved across the field burned in her brain, an image she might never forget. She’d started to open her mouth a dozen times on that field, but her father’s firm grip on her shoulder kept her silenced.
But not any longer.
She steeled herself. “Maybe Russell deserves it, but Noah didn’t do anything. What about him?”
“A night in a cell might teach him a few lessons, too.” Her father opened a cabinet and pulled down a mug before walking stiffly to the single-serve coffee pot. “That boy is trouble.”
Maybe she needed that advice when she was eighteen, but she wasn’t anymore. “He’s thirty, Dad. So am I. We’ve been over this.”
“Watch your tone. I’m not in the mood.” He shoved a pod into the machine and jerked the lid down harder than necessary.
“Well, I’m not in the mood either. I watched a good man get hauled to jail for no reason because you wouldn’t say anything.” She swallowed hard, guilt bubbling up her chest. “Because I wouldn’t say anything.”
Dad jabbed the start button. “Family comes first.”
“Not when something is unjust.” She shook her head. “You of all people should know that.”
“What are you trying to say, Elisa?” He turned, his voice cold as he braced his hip against the counter. The coffee pot gurgled to life.
She couldn’t do this again—wouldn’t. And maybe she didn’t have to. Maybe she could risk being real because she would be loved anyway. By her heavenly father, if not her earthly one.
“I didn’t stand up for Noah twelve years ago when you found out about us, and tonight I failed him again. Yes, I was being loyal to you—but not because you were right. Because I was scared.”
He scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not a threat to you.”
“Yes, you are. I’ve played by your rules for my entire life, even when I knew they were wrong.” Her hands shook and she folded them tightly under her arms. “But what you’re doing isn’t right.”
He stared at a space on the linoleum floor between them, jaw clenched.
His silence gave her courage. “Russell Hebert didn’t kill Aunt Rhonda.”
Her father’s gaze jerked to meet hers, fire lighting his eyes. “Watch your mouth.”
“It’s true, Dad.” Now her whole body was shaking. But it had to be said. All of this had gone on long enough.
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know that a man who wasn’t there isn’t responsible for someone else’s car wreck.” She infused a strength she didn’t know she had into her voice. “He made bad decisions that night but so did Aunt Rhonda. Everything that happened was the result of both of their choices.”
“So you’re siding with the Heberts now? Abandoning what’s left of our Bergeron family name?” He ran one hand over his head and released a short breath. “I can’t believe you. First your mother, now this.”
Elisa froze. “What about Mom?”
“She always thought this feud was ridiculous.”
“It is . It’s not even about the land so much anymore, is it? It’s about Aunt Rhonda.”
He turned and grabbed for his full coffee mug. “Life’s not fair, Elisa. The Heberts took things that weren’t meant for them. And they profited off it, making the rest of us sacrifice. Then that jerk’s affair with my sister.” He practically spit the words. “To me, this is poetic justice.”
“So to get revenge, you’re going to let a good man and his father sit in a jail unjustly?”
“It’s not unjust. Russell did hit me.”
Elisa narrowed her eyes. “You hit him first.”
“Life’s not fair, remember?” Her father raised his coffee mug to his lips, his expression tight.
She bit back a frustrated sigh. She wasn’t getting anywhere, and meanwhile, Noah was sitting in prison. Because of her. Because of her family.
Regret thrummed through her veins, sending a wave of nausea coursing through her stomach. If she hadn’t told her dad about the hunt when she did, he wouldn’t have gotten so upset. Maybe none of the fight would have happened.
She’d never know for sure, but she could do everything in her power now to fix it. She could speak up for once.
She could be a good girl by not calming down.
“Fine.” Elisa lifted her chin, matching her father’s haughty tone and returning his glare. “If that’s how it’s going to be, there’s nothing else I have to say to you right now.”
“You need to calm down, Elisa.” He frowned. “You’re making too much of all of this. Let it play out.”
“ Me ?” she shouted the word, and the release felt freeing. In fact, it felt amazing. She shouted louder. “I’m not the one who started a fistfight on a ball field!”
He glared at her. “Watch your tone, young?—”
“That’s just it, Dad. I’m not young. And I don’t have to cater to you anymore. All of this is wrong, and you know it.” She bit down on her lower lip, then released the next words begging to be spoken. “Mom would be very disappointed in you tonight.”
Then she spun on her heel toward the entryway, her heart pounding and hands trembling. But the block that had been sitting on her chest for the past half hour was gone, and she could breathe. She’d done it.
Maybe she should have done it sooner, but at least she’d done it.
“Get back in here, Elisa Bergeron. Where do you think you’re going?” Her dad followed from the kitchen, coffee splashing over the sides of his mug onto the worn rug.
She yanked open the front door and shouted her reply—simply because she finally could. “To do the right thing.”