A Mother's Homecoming (18 page)

Now that Pam was sober and her evenings were no longer marked with people arguing with her to hand
over her car keys, she found a soothing freedom in driving. Sometimes just being behind the wheel helped her think more clearly. So she meandered around Mimosa for nearly an hour. At one point, she even considered going to the cemetery and watching the sunrise there. She'd refreshed the flowers at her mother's grave several times now, and with each trip, the emotional turmoil she'd felt after that first visit had lessened.

Maybe because coming home to Mimosa had ceased to be about Pam being someone's daughter. In the hours she'd spent with Faith, strumming guitar and talking about boys, she'd glimpsed what it was to be a mom. Could she really walk away again, knowing how much she'd already missed and what she'd be sacrificing? Faith was only at the beginning of her dating years; it was a given that her aunt Leigh and grandma Gwendolyn weren't going to give her straight answers about boys!

And Nick …

Just the image of his face made her heart hurt. The man must be a glutton for punishment. Falling for her the first time had been understandable—he'd been young, stupid and at the mercy of guy hormones. What was his excuse this time? If she left, would he find someone simpler and safer to love, or would he be too embittered to try again?
Three strikes.

The palest fingers of pink were streaking the sky by the time she turned onto her road. She recalled the way she'd felt when she first jostled down this driveway in August, choked with dread and uncertainty about what to do. Now, whenever the little house came into view, she felt … content.

My mother never could make this place a home, not in all the years she lived here.
Mae hadn't had enough
love in her to do that. Was it remotely possible that Mae had left her the house hoping that Pam could?

Instead of driving all the way into the carport, Pam parked midway down the gravel stretch. She leaned forward and watched the sun come up over the roof and grinned at the view, pride swelling inside her.
Mine.
Maybe her past here hadn't been pretty, but the present included family, friends and accomplishment. And the future?

She swallowed hard. Well, she'd have to discuss that part with Nick. At least this time she was brave enough to give him a say in the decision.

W
HEN
P
AM KNOCKED
, Faith was the one who opened the front door, her face puckered in concern. “Hey! What happened last night? You guys disappeared before kickoff and then Dad didn't want to talk this morning. You didn't have a fight, did you?”

“We had a difference of opinion,” Pam said. “Is he around?”

“Backyard, mowing. You want to wait in the kitchen while I go get him?”

“Sure.” Since Pam's throat had gone as dry as cracked desert floor, she poured a glass of water and knocked half of it back in one gulp.

“Liquid courage?” Nick asked from behind her.

She spluttered, then had to surreptitiously wipe moisture from the corner of her mouth.
Very smooth.
“No, I have to get my courage the old-fashioned way these days—faking it.”

He leaned against the kitchen counter, eyeing her coolly. It was ridiculous for a man to look that good in an orange T-shirt and a pair of cutoff sweatpants. He was handsome as the devil, but all the passion was
missing. This was the man who'd shown up at Trudy's to warn her she had no business in Mimosa, not the man who'd trickled corn starch over her bare flesh or raged at her about his daughter's haircut.

Oh, Nick.
Seeing how guarded he was, she realized that he was every bit as scared as she was.

She'd meant to explain that she wanted to give this a chance, that she wouldn't leave Mimosa but that she couldn't rush into anything, either. That they were going to have to take it one day at a time for the foreseeable future and just hope that path took them where they wanted to go. Instead, she stared into his shuttered eyes and blurted, “You were right.”

“What?” The impassive mask fell away. Shock and tender vulnerability lay beneath it.

“You were right,” she repeated. “I do love you.”

“Yes!”
A high-pitched whoop came from the next room.

Nick pressed the heel of his hand to his head. “I'd send her upstairs, but it seems too late for that to do any good.”

Pam sighed. “I suppose she can come join the conversation if it's all right with you. After all, this affects her, too.”

Faith skidded into the room in her socks so quickly that she almost crashed into the refrigerator. “Are you staying? You're staying in Mimosa!”

Pam nodded, her eyes locked on Nick. “I'm staying.”

He crossed the kitchen in two strides and pulled her in for a deep kiss.

After a minute, Faith tittered. “Guys? I'm totally on board with celebrating the good news, but …
ew.
”

Nick angled back, resting his forehead against Pam's. “We're squicking out our daughter,” he whispered.

“Squicking?”

“I'm told it's a word.” He tightened his embrace around her as if disbelieving she'd stay of her own volition. “You're really not leaving?”

“No. I worked too damn hard on that house to go just when it's getting good.”

“It'll get even better,” he swore. “I'll get you a dishwasher for Christmas. Top of the line!”

She laughed, but then pulled back so that she could think clearly enough to articulate what needed to be said. “I want to promise you that I'll never touch another drink, that I won't panic and freak out at the thought of permanent commitment, but …”

“Pam, you're one of the strongest people I know,” he told her. “Even when you bolted before, you acted out of a sense of integrity. And you were a kid! That's not going to happen again. If you ever did happen to fall off the wagon, we'd find a way to cope with it and move forward.”

Her vision blurred. “You think?”

His own eyes were damp with emotion, too. “I know. Hey, it's not like you get off so easy. You'll have to deal with my grouchy, hotheaded temper when I get angry and act irrationally. And what about the times when this one behaves like a brat?” He jerked his thumb toward his daughter.

“Hey!” But she was grinning from ear to ear, pleased to be included.

“As long as you both understand that we can't rush into anything,” Pam cautioned. “No crazy talk of people moving in together or getting married.”

“No, not yet!” Faith yelped, looking harried. “You
know how long it will take me to write the perfect song to sing at the wedding? Not to mention working up the courage to perform in front of people. And a person doesn't learn to play guitar overnight!”

Pam looked from the love of her life to their daughter and smiled. “Don't worry, we've got time.”

Most importantly, they had each other.

ISBN: 9781408951323

A Mother's Homecoming

© Tanya Michna 2011

First Published in Great Britain in 2011
Harlequin (UK) Limited
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