Another Way Home Read online

  She came to stand beside him, clucking her tongue at the sight beyond the window. “I just hope everybody gets here before the snow closes the roads.”

  He frowned. “I just hope everybody gets home before the snow closes the roads.”

  She chuckled. “Good point.”

  “What else do you need me to do? You have everything looking real pretty.”

  She turned away from the window and surveyed the inn as if trying to see it through his eyes. It sparkled with candles on white tablecloths and glittered greenery festooning the mantel and the tall windows on either side of the fireplace. “It does, doesn’t it? Oh—you know what you can do? Take some pictures before the kids get here and destroy it. White tablecloths probably weren’t the best idea.”

  “I wondered about that. But I wasn’t going to say anything.”

  “Smart man. I wish we’d waited to shoot that video. I really like the way this looks better than what we shot.”

  Landyn was working on some Christmas promotion spots for the inn on some of her friends’ blogs, and she’d arranged for a friend’s husband to come and shoot some footage last week.

  “Yeah, yeah, and if you’d shot it today, next week you’d be wishing you could shoot it again.”

  “I know. You’re right.”

  “Come here, you.” He pulled her into an embrace, which she only tolerated for a few seconds before she broke free and crossed the room to fiddle with some flowers she’d already rearranged twice.

  He rolled his eyes and returned to his window watch. Not two minutes later, the first car pulled into the driveway, plowing a new path through the snow that had already accumulated since he’d come inside. “Bree’s here with my mother,” he called to Audrey. “I’m going to go help them in.”

  “I’ll come too.” Audrey frowned. “It might take three of us to get Cecelia up the stairs. She was so frail when she was here last Tuesday.”

  Grant had noticed too. He didn’t want to think about what it might mean. Lord, let us catch our breath with everything else before we have to deal with another crisis.

  He opened the front door as Huckleberry made a beeline for him, barking as if there was a rabbit at the door. “Audrey, I’m letting Huck out.”

  “Don’t you dare!” she screeched. “Huck! Quiet. Grant, do not let him out.” She raced to the door and hauled the Lab by the collar toward the laundry room. “You can let him out once everyone gets here, but this weather has him too wound up. Besides, I don’t want him bowling your poor mother over.”

  “That’s thoughtful of you,” Grant said. He didn’t wait to hear Audrey’s comeback—if she’d even heard him—but stepped onto the front porch, wishing he’d thought to at least put on a jacket. Just when he was getting warmed up too.

  “Happy Thanksgiving!” Bree shouted over the top of the car, her breath forming a cloud in the frigid air.

  “You too, sweetheart! Thanks so much for picking up CeeCee.”

  “I’m happy to.” Bree left the car running and came around to help CeeCee from the car. “How’s she doing today?” he whispered over his mother’s head.

  CeeCee straightened and looked up at him with an expression he knew well from boyhood. “I’m doing just fine, thank you. I’m not dead yet.”

  He tightened his grip on her thin arm. “I can see that, Mother. You’re very much alive.”

  She scowled. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You said you’re not dead yet, and I’m just saying—”

  “Deaf,” she barked. “I said I’m not deaf yet. But apparently you are. Now get me inside. It’s cold out here in case anyone hadn’t noticed.”

  Bree’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, which made Grant laugh.

  “Bree Whitman, did you not hear my mother say, ‘I’m not dead yet?’ ”

  She threw him a stern look and held up a hand. “I am staying completely out of this one.”

  “Good decision if you value your inheritance, young lady.”

  But over CeeCee’s bent head, Bree gave him an exaggerated nod and mouthed, “She did say dead.”

  “Don’t think I didn’t see that, young lady.”

  Bree cringed in a way that made Grant roar.

  “You two go ahead and have your fun at my expense.” But CeeCee wore a smile that said she was in full entertainment mode.

  He and Audrey had noticed in recent months that his mother was a little mixed up from time to time. Of course, at eighty-four, almost eighty-five, who wouldn’t be slipping a little? But today, his mother appeared to be in fine form. It would be a good Thanksgiving.

  Dallas and Danae’s car turned into the driveway and the Penningtons’ right behind it. He turned his mother over to Audrey and Bree, grabbed a jacket from the hall closet, and went to carry in granddaughters. Along with the pumpkin pies.

  Dallas pulled to a stop, and Grant opened Danae’s door. “Happy Thanksgiving, you two.”

  “Make that three today, Dad.” Danae unhooked her seat belt and swiveled to the back seat. “This is Austin.”

  Puzzled, Grant gave a little wave, then opened the SUV’s back passenger door. He chucked the boy under the chin. “Hey there.”

  “We’re babysitting Austin for a couple of days.”

  “Well, hi, buddy. Nice to meet you.” Grant held out a hand and the boy shook it solemnly. “How old are you?”

  “Free,” he said, then stuck a thumb in his mouth.

  “He turned three in August,” Danae said, climbing out of the passenger seat to stand beside Grant.

  The boy popped out his thumb long enough to hold up three fingers. “Do you gots any kids?”

  He pulled Danae into a sideways hug. “This girl right here is my kid. But, yes”—he pointed to where Corinne and Jesse were unbuckling their crew—“do you see that car right over there? Full load of kids in there. I hate to tell you, though, sport, but they’re all girls.”

  The boy scrunched up his nose. Grant laughed and tousled the dark mop of hair. He was a cute kid. His olive skin and dark eyes and hair said he might be of Mediterranean descent. Greek? Maybe Latino. Audrey hadn’t said anything about Danae bringing a guest. Who sent their kid to a babysitter on Thanksgiving Day? His curiosity was getting the best of him, but the boy was old enough—and obviously bright enough—that he didn’t want to ask questions in front of him. He guessed it had something to do with the women’s shelter.

  He still wasn’t crazy about the idea of Danae spending time there. But Dallas seemed convinced it was safe, and Grant had pledged to God—and Audrey—when he handed off his daughters at the front of the church on each of their wedding days, that he would try to stay out of their business.

  He’d blown that promise with Landyn and Chase, sticking his nose where it really didn’t belong when they were struggling in their marriage a year ago. Of course, when they decided to move in with him, it sort of became his business. But he didn’t have that excuse with Dallas and Danae—at least not yet—so he was going to do his best to “mind his own beeswax,” as his mother liked to say. Not that his mother ever minded her own beeswax. But that was another story.

  “Come on, Austin.” Danae held out her hand. “I’ll introduce you to the girls. And Huck.”

  “Now there’s a boy you can play with,” Grant said. He whistled for the lab.

  “Who’s Huck?” The boy looked skeptical.

  “You’ll see. You’re going to have fun, buddy.”

  He didn’t look too sure about that, but he took the hand Danae offered and tromped through the snow to the front porch.

  “Wipe your feet!” Grant called. Audrey had been mopping floors all morning, which he’d told her was stupid. Understandably, that hadn’t gone over very well. Forty years of marriage and he still hadn’t learned to keep his mouth shut when appropriate.

  He followed the crowd inside and helped Audrey get casseroles in the oven and salads in the fridge, then went to help hang up coats in the hall closet.
The kids went downstairs to play, and Grant ended up in the hall with Danae.

  “What’s the story on your little guy? I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to have him at their Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “His mom is from the women’s shelter. It’s a safety issue. She’s going home but she was afraid Austin’s father might show up. He . . . beat Austin, and that’s what finally convinced her to come to the shelter. Apparently she could handle him smacking her around, but it was another thing when he went after her son.”

  “I would hope so,” Grant said, shaking his head. He felt sick to his stomach to think a man could do that to his child. To his wife. The world was a sick place—and getting sicker by the minute.

  16

  The little boy sure gets along well with Corinne’s girls,” CeeCee said from her perch in the recliner by the living room window overlooking the backyard. “What did you say his name was?”

  “It’s Austin. And yes, they’ve played really well together,” Danae agreed. She came to kneel by CeeCee’s chair and followed her grandmother’s line of vision out to the yard where Jesse, Chase, and Dallas had some sort of game going with the kids in the snow. Huckleberry was in hog heaven darting from one kid to the next, tail wagging. Even the twins were getting in on the action, bundled in snowsuits with only their pudgy faces sticking out, cheeks rosy from the cold. Chase carried one and Dallas had the other hiked up on one hip as if he carried babies all the time. Danae’s heart twisted at the sight.

  She watched, feeling herself drift into that fantasyland she’d tried so hard to stop living in. But she couldn’t help it. She could so easily imagine that they had a baby girl. Dallas would be such a good daddy.

  Austin seemed to be having the time of his life, running in circles, flopping in the snow, and laughing with the little girls as if they’d known each other forever.

  “It must have warmed up out there,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Nobody seems to be in a hurry to come in.”

  “Yes, and let’s keep it that way,” Landyn said through a yawn. She playfully scooted Danae out of the way and eased into the chair beside CeeCee’s, closing her eyes. “I feel a nap coming on.”

  “Mom, do you need help in the kitchen?” Danae called.

  Landyn opened one eye. “Oh, sure. Pour on the guilt just as I’m getting my first nap all month.”

  “Don’t worry, sister, I wasn’t offering your services.”

  “Nor mine, I hope,” Corinne chimed in.

  Mom stepped through the archway that divided the living room and the great room and kitchen. “You can all quit fighting because I don’t need any help. Not until it’s time to get leftovers out for supper.”

  “I can’t believe the Sillies are giving up football for a romp in the snow,” Corinne said.

  They laughed. Dad had started calling the three sons-in-law “the Sillies” after Corinne had sent him a text message with the acronym SIL, meaning sons-in-law. Dad didn’t get it and had replied with something stupid that no one could even remember now. But the guys had earned a new nickname out of the deal—one that would probably stick for life.

  “Actually, I think it’s halftime,” Danae said. “The Sillies might be silly, but they’re not dumb.”

  “Ah, that explains it.” CeeCee rolled her eyes. “I knew there had to be some explanation. And I still don’t understand why Grant calls them silly.”

  Without opening her eyes, Landyn reached over and patted their grandmother’s knee. “It’s technology, CeeCee. Don’t worry about it.”

  “So Austin spent last night with you?” Mom joined them in the living room, untying her apron as she slumped onto the opposite end of the sofa from Corinne. “How did that go?”

  “It went well. I was a little worried he’d have trouble sleeping in a strange house, but he was asleep by nine and never made a peep until we woke him up at seven this morning.”

  “What’s his story? Or can you talk about it?” Corinne curled up in the corner of the sofa. Her pregnancy was evident now.

  “We’re really not supposed to say too much. But obviously, you can figure it out, given that they’re living at the women’s shelter. His dad got abusive toward Austin too. That was the last straw, I guess.”

  In getting a medical release for Austin and contact information for Misty before they took Austin home, they’d actually found out more than Danae had known through the shelter’s records. Since they used a first-name-only policy with volunteers, she hadn’t even known that their last name was Arato. Misty had laughed and said, “Hank’s mom always told people it was Italian, but his old man swore his ancestors were from Japan. Mama only wished they were Italian.” She shrugged. “I don’t know the truth. His folks are dead now. My side is mostly mutts, so it probably cancels out any pedigrees on Hank’s side anyway.”

  Danae had simply felt grateful that her family wasn’t like either side of Austin’s family. And then she felt arrogant and judgmental for having such thoughts.

  “Well, he’s an awfully cute little guy,” Mom said. “It’s amazing how resilient kids are. Does he ever talk about his dad?”

  “Not a lot.” She knew they were all curious, but she was growing uncomfortable with the information being revealed. Trying to steer the subject away from things she wasn’t supposed to talk about, she asked, “Is Bree coming back for supper?” Her sister-in-law had left shortly after lunch to be with her own family.

  “She wasn’t sure,” Mom said. “Her family was going to her aunt’s in Sikeston today, so she said not to wait supper on her.”

  “As if we ever have a schedule for supper,” Landyn said.

  Danae tossed a sofa pillow at her. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I talk in my sleep sometimes,” she quipped, launching the pillow back at Danae without opening her eyes.

  They laughed and then Corinne pointed at CeeCee—who was sawing logs while sitting straight up in the recliner—and they laughed some more. Again, Danae was guiltily grateful for her family.

  “I thought Dallas’s brother was coming too.” Mom jumped up and wiped an invisible smudge off the wood floor with a wrinkled tissue. The woman didn’t know how to relax.

  “We invited him,” Danae said. “I’m not sure if he’s coming or not.” Now that Dallas and Drew’s parents were gone, they often included Drew in the Whitman family holidays. Most years, he had a girlfriend and declined their invitation. But he’d broken up with someone recently—a girl she and Dallas had never met. Knowing Drew, it wouldn’t be long before he had another one lined up. Dallas got frustrated because his brother wouldn’t settle down and marry one of them. But she wanted her brother-in-law to marry because he was truly, madly, deeply in love. Not because his big brother thought it was time he settled down. “I hope he doesn’t come too late. We’re probably going to take off a little early because of Austin.”

  “Oh? You have to take him back tonight?” Corinne moved a sofa pillow and motioned for Mom to sit beside her.

  “No. We have him until Sunday,” Danae said. “But he’s used to—”

  “Wow, till Sunday? I’m surprised his mom would want to leave him over Thanksgiving.”

  “She didn’t really have much choice. And . . . I really shouldn’t say any more about the shelter.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Corinne affected a wince. “I really wasn’t fishing. I know you have to keep everything confidential.”

  “Anyway, what I was saying is he’s used to going to bed pretty early, and I don’t want to get him off his schedule while we have him.”

  “His mom will appreciate that,” Corinne said.

  Despite what Corinne claimed, they were fishing. All of them. She didn’t blame them. Her family had always been open with each other. And maybe she could have told them a bit more than she had. But given the fact that Hank had somehow found out where Misty was, it seemed wise to keep the details to herself. There was no reason her family needed to know this stuff anyway.

  Mom jumped
up again. “Well, maybe we should start getting supper on the table then?”

  Corinne gave Danae a look, and they rose in unison, each taking one of their mother’s arms and escorted her, laughing, to the sofa.

  “Sit down, Mom!” Corinne used her stern voice—the one usually reserved for when her daughters were misbehaving.

  “Yes, please! You’re making the rest of us look like slackers.”

  Landyn popped awake and sat straight up. “Who are you calling a slacker?”

  Their laughter woke CeeCee, which prompted more laughter.

  Bree arrived a few minutes later, and by the time the guys and kids straggled in from outside, the subject of Austin’s situation had been dropped. Until after supper when she and Dallas were loading the car getting ready to go home.

  While Dallas bundled Austin up for the trip home, Dad followed her out to the car, offering to help her carry out the dishes she’d brought.

  “You don’t need to, Dad. I can get them in one trip now that they’re empty.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  She didn’t argue, even though it felt silly, the two of them trudging through the snow, each carrying one little casserole dish.

  “He’s a cute little guy,” Dad said without prelude.

  “He is. He sure took to the girls.”

  Dad smiled. “That he did. They made him feel real welcome too. I was proud of them.”

  The yard lights on either side of the driveway cast a pool of sparkle on the snow, and the night air had that wonderful hushed quality about it. When they reached the car, Dad handed her the dish and waited while she secured it between the front seats. “So, how long did you say you had him for?”

  “Just until Sunday. His mom will be back at the shelter then, until they can find another place to go. Dallas told you what happened? At the shelter?”

  He nodded, his gaze too piercing for comfort. “Just . . . You be careful,” he said, putting a hand on her arm.