Read Happily Ever After Online
Authors: Susan May Warren
Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Romance, #Contemporary
Happily Ever After (24 page)
Mona’s eyes narrowed, watching him finger her book. He looked genuinely interested and not the least bit like she’d tried
to give him an infectious disease. She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe because his main character never seems to get it right
’til the end. You know, he’s not perfect, just real. And each story is in an exotic location—Texas, Russia, Mexico, the Canadian
Rockies. He writes as if he’s been there, and I feel like I have too.”
“Sounds like a good writer.”
“He is. But his stories are sad also.”
“Why’s that?” He leafed through the book, speed-reading.
“Because the main character, Jonah, never really finds what he is searching for. He’s always somewhat discontent at the end.”
Joe stared at her, and a muscle quivered in his jaw. He didn’t smile. “What is he looking for?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m not Reese Clark, but I think Jonah is looking for acceptance or maybe just stability, like a real
home. I feel sorry for him. Perhaps Clark is lost also and is searching for something. Peace, maybe.” She gave a rueful chuckle,
remembering Joe’s words. He and Jonah had a lot in common.
Joe opened the front cover and studied the jacket synopsis. “Mind if I borrow it when you’re done?”
“Sure, no problem.” Mona reached for the book.
“Not so fast. C’mon, Mona. Come out for dinner with me. We don’t have to have pizza . . . we can go exotic and eat melting
trout at the Portage Resort.” His eyes almost seemed to plead with her, and his crazy cockeyed smile ultimately crushed her
last bastion of resistance.
The Portage Resort, located on an old voyagers’ trail, featured a gourmet restaurant inside a lodge constructed of stout,
clean, white-pine logs. The place was famous for its lake trout and walleyed pike. As Mona eyed the mounted trophies springing
from the wall like a freeze-framed aquarium, she wondered whom she was eating for dinner.
Joe had spiffed up, looking Western in a pair of black jeans and cowboy boots, a white oxford, and a tweed sports jacket.
She wondered how he had removed the wrinkles.
“You forgot your cowboy hat,” she had commented when he met her at the bottom of the stairs.
“And you, your parasol,” he quipped back.
She supposed her sleeveless linen dress was a little early for the season, but she had added a white cotton cardigan, and
it seemed all right. Then Joe had grinned, and it felt so welcoming, she knew he was pleased. He’d rested his hand on the
small of her back, sending a wave of disturbing tingles down her spine. Maybe she had been wrong in her rash assumptions about
Liza and his intentions.
During dinner Joe made her laugh, told her about surfing in Singapore, cowpunching on a dude ranch in Texas, and nearly being
eaten by a grizzly in Glacier National Park. Somewhere between the golden-fried walleye steaks and gooseberry pie, she knew
she could never hold on to her anger in light of his distracting smile.
They lingered over coffee and arrived home late. The crescent moon glistened, and the stars blinked gloriously against an
opal sky as they sat on the steps of the porch and listened to waves scrape the shore. Their knees touched now and again,
and every time they did, a little jolt would ripple through Mona. She kept fighting the desire for him to kiss her, to hold
her like he had the night before. But he kept his hands glued to his knees, and Mona couldn’t reach out to him, not after
his erratic behavior that afternoon. Just sitting with Joe, however, seemed so peaceful. It was enough.
“So, tell me, why do you like Jonah?” Joe stared into the darkness, and his question hit her like a cold breeze. What did
he know about her attraction to Jonah?
Mona scrambled for an answer. “I don’t know. He’s honorable, I guess. He helps people without asking for anything in return.”
She sighed and rubbed her arms.The wind had raised goose bumps. “But his best trait is his honesty. Jonah doesn’t play games.
He always shares his heart. And with his good morals, he must be a Christian. I wish Clark would write that in.”
“What do you know about Reese Clark?”
Mona leaned back on her hands. “As much as anybody, I suppose. He’s a recluse, only shows up for book signings. I’ve heard
he’s a little cold personally, although I wouldn’t mind meeting him. Actually,” she laughed, remembering, “I
did
meet him!”
Joe frowned.
“Yes, that’s right. I met him in the Mall of America, several months ago. He was on a book tour.” She shook her head in amazement
at the memory. “He fixed my car.”
Joe swallowed loudly. “Doesn’t sound like too bad of a guy.”
“Well, he seemed nice but a bit defensive. I offered to take him out for coffee, and it was all he could do to hold his ground
long enough to turn me down. Fond of his privacy, apparently.” She paused, recalling the way he’d smoothly rebuffed her in
the parking garage.
“Edith told me this horrible story—something about his boots getting stolen by a fan?”
“It was more than that,” Joe mumbled. “I think he got his shoulder broken, and I remember reading about him being hospitalized.”
“Well, whatever it is, he seemed pretty fanatical about his privacy. I don’t know if I could ever trust someone like that,”
she mused. “I would always wonder what secrets he was keeping from me. And the whole famous thing would be hard to deal with,
don’t you think? What if he really did have obsessive fans stalking him?” She gave a mock shiver and cast Joe a kooky smile.
Joe didn’t match it. He stayed silent beside her and stared out at the lake. Mona sensed something, a shift in his attitude,
or perhaps it was just the breeze, reaping something foul from shore. Joe must have picked it up as well because he stiffened.
Then he spoke in a hoarse voice, as if he had suddenly developed a cold. “I think I’ll be going, Mona.”
Mona felt like she had the wind knocked from her. She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came.
“I think it’s time for me to move on. You’ve got everything under control here, and Chuck said he’d help with anything that
comes up.”
Mona clenched her teeth and willed the tears back. Disbelief had her reeling, and she struggled to find her voice. “Well,
thanks, then.” She, too, sounded like pneumonia had settled in her chest.
She saw him nod twice, as if,
phew,
that was over, and blow out a breath. Clapping his hands on his legs, he pushed up from the steps. “Thanks for a great evening,
and of course, for the classy pad. Rip and I loved it.” He didn’t look at her.
Mona tore her gaze from him and searched the lake for anything to get a fix on. The world suddenly seemed blurry, dangerously
off-kilter.
“No problem,” she returned. The first tear dropped.She shot a trembling hand to her cheek, whisked it away, and bounced to
her feet. “Good night, Joe.” Then she turned and dove for the front door, hearing a faint ripping sound somewhere deep in
her heart.
Joe left at midnight. She listened to him thump down his steps and wondered why he was in such a hurry to escape. He didn’t
even knock on her door for his last week’s pay. Rip, at least, barked a final good-bye. Seated on her padded window seat,
she watched from her darkened bedroom, tears dripping off her chin.
Joe threw his duffel bag into the bed of the truck, stared at the house for a long moment, then followed Rip into the cab.
He peeled out northward, his engine coughing an oily wake.
Mona cried until sleep washed her into precious oblivion.
Joe’s knuckles blanched white as he gripped the steering wheel. He heard only the heart-wrenching echo of Mona’s words as
he raced north through the milky, forested darkness toward the Garden.
Jonah’s
honorable.
He tells the truth.
How he wished that were true of himself.
He’d been dancing around the truth all evening. He knew he had to tell her . . . either that or leave, and the thought of
leaving had driven a dagger through his heart. He’d been tossing the idea around in his mind that perhaps he could start small,
telling her his real name, and work into the truth as he might write a poem, one carefully constructed line at a time. He
still had a week before the lies could blow up in his face, and perhaps, by then . . .
Somehow, he couldn’t get the words started. They lodged in an iron ball in his throat. Back there on the porch, he’d been
halfway to the truth, tripping around the subject when she’d shocked him with the Reese Clark comment.
I
don’t
think I could ever trust a man
who is so private. I would always wonder what secrets
he was keeping from me.
He didn’t even want to think about the way she’d reacted to Reese Clark’s celebrity status and the threat of a stalker on
his heels.
He’d had no choice but to leave. His only comfort was that he’d never betrayed his alliance with Gabe. At least he’d protected
his brother from Mona’s inevitable rejection. Now she would never have the chance to face the realities of the Michaels family
gene pool and run for cover. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the sick hollowness in his chest.
The wind hissed through the trees, branches lurching in shadows across the road. Occasionally Rip would raise his sorry brown
eyes and grunt, as if he, too, knew Joe had surrendered to a familiar history. Thankfully, he hadn’t actually voiced his feelings.
I love you, Mona.
At least he still had his dignity.
But he’d happily swap dignity for courage. If only he’d had the slightest inkling how she felt. Despite her sweet surrender
in his arms and the way her eyes lit up when he walked into the room, he might be totally misreading her warmth for thankfulness.
And wouldn’t that have made his vulnerability especially poignant—open his heart just so she could respond with a horrified,
embarrassed silence? No, tonight’s gut-wrenching conclusion was best for both of them.
Then why did he feel so bereft?
Joe hit the steering wheel.
God, why did You bring me
here? To hurt Mona? To destroy me? You knew this
would happen, and You still let me walk right into
Mona’s
arms.
Regret seared him.
A person with any smarts would have turned and headed right out the front door the first moment he set eyes on Mona and her
intoxicating smile. A person with real genius would have never lied to Mona in the first place. Even if he had a plethora
of excellent reasons.
So maybe his reasons weren’t so excellent. If he was honest, he might admit they were mostly self-serving. Joe swallowed the
regret filling his mouth. Whatever his reasons were, there was no going back.
Rip sighed and Joe put his hand on the dog’s head, working his fingers into the short fur. He slowed and turned into the Garden’s
dirt drive. At least he would have the decency to say good-bye to Gabe.
Stay, Joe.
The impression blew through him like wind, as if trying to direct him. He fought it, eyes forward on what he had to do. Stopping
in front of the Garden’s porch, he noticed the lights were out, and his heart sank. He climbed out of the truck and shut the
door in Rip’s face. The dog whined a moment, then settled on the bench seat.
Joe sank onto the porch steps and laced his fingers behind his neck. The birch trees were a ghostly white in the darkness.
A chill shifted through him as he considered his future.
What now, Lord?
His answer came in the creak of the porch door. He heard a gentle, familiar voice. “Joe? Is that you?” He turned and watched
Ruby descend the steps, clad in leather slippers, a fuzzy gray sweat suit, and a pink terry robe. She sat beside him. “It’s
a little late for a visit, isn’t it?”
Joe blew out a tortured sigh and rubbed a muscle in his neck. “I’m leaving. I came to say good-bye.”
Her silence told him how she felt about his decision.
“Ruby, you know what I do for a living. I can’t stay.I have to keep moving. I don’t have a choice.”
Ruby harrumphed.
“My time here is up.”
She crossed her arms.
“Fine. I’m going to say good-bye to Gabe.”
“He’s sleeping.”
Joe stared at the inky sky, noticing how bright the moon shone against the black eternity of the universe.“I can’t leave without
saying good-bye.”
“We have a sofa. It’s yours ’til morning.” Ruby stood up. He felt her gaze linger on him a moment. “You can take care of business
then.” He heard the screen door close quietly behind her.
He clenched his jaw, frustrated at having to prolong the agony. He much preferred a full-speed, midnight trip south to Minneapolis.
Joe traced the shadows lurching off the ceiling, fighting the image of Mona’s beautiful face as she hid her tears, calling
himself an array of truthful names until sometime near dawn, when exhaustion drove him into a fitful sleep.
Joe woke to the smell and sound of bacon sizzling in the kitchen. A small congregation was assembling breakfast when he shuffled
in.
“Joe’s here!” the welcoming redhead announced, and Daniel slapped Joe on the shoulder. Joe acknowledged them with a crooked
grin, found a chair, and slumped into it.
Ruby marched into the kitchen, wearing the same sweat suit and slippers, but minus the bathrobe and stern look. “Good morning,
Joe. Sleep well?”
Joe nodded but couldn’t meet her eyes. First thing after breakfast, he was southbound.
Gabe’s voice ushered in his presence. “Joe’s truck is here, Ruby.”
Ruby extended her hands toward Joe, as if presenting him. “So is Joe.”
His brother embraced him, and for an instant, the exuberance eased the knot in Joe’s chest. “Good morning, Joe. Why are you
here so early? Are we going fishing again?”
It would have been so much easier to slip away last night, without the messy good-bye. Rip out Gabe’s heart with one quick
twist. He shook his head and met his brother’s dancing blue eyes. “Not quite, buddy.” He blew out despair in a breath. “We
gotta talk, okay?”
Gabe frowned.
“You can use my office,” Ruby said. Joe caught her disapproving look.
He ignored it, stood, and stalked out of the kitchen.“C’mon, Gabe, let’s go to your room.” Gabe followed without a word.
Joe stared out the window of Gabe’s bedroom, watching the dawn illuminate the strawberry garden. The tiny dew-covered plants
sparkled deep, jeweled green. Joe couldn’t help but be constantly amazed at the talents of his brother and friends. He turned,
and the pressure of Gabe’s confused expression made him gulp.
Joe sat and clamped his hands over his knees. He’d grappled with this the better part of the night and decided a straight
approach would be best. “Gabe, it’s time for me to move on. I have work to do, and my deadline here is up.” Joe noticed Gabe’s
chin begin to quiver so he rushed on. “But I need you to help me out. Can you take Rip? He needs a home, and he loves the
Garden.”
Gabe bit his lip. “Why can’t you stay? You don’t have to go. You can do anything you want.”
Gabe’s voice made Joe’s throat burn. His brother simply didn’t understand, and Joe didn’t know how to explain that he felt
trapped—in the past and the present. That it seemed easier to be alone, and most of all, that he couldn’t bear the thought
of failing and being failed.
Joe scrubbed a hand through his hair. It felt greasy and unkempt. So did he. “I’m sorry, Gabe,” was all he could manage. He
hardened his heart to Gabe’s agonized face. “Can you take Rip?” he repeated.
Gabe nodded through a sheet of tears. Joe struggled to his feet and made a trail to the porch. The delicious smells of bacon,
fresh coffee, and scrambled eggs sneaked toward him, but Joe knew anything he put in his stomach would be soured by the sorrow
in his heart. He let the front door slam behind him.
Poor Rip was still curled on the front seat of the pickup but awoke the second Joe opened the door. The dog streaked out of
the car. “Sorry, bud,” Joe muttered. It seemed he was hurting everybody these days. He heard the door creak and noticed a
small group gathering on the porch, led by Ruby. She had her arm around Gabe, and she shot Joe a crippling look.
Joe whistled for Rip and caught the Lab by the fraying collar. He nestled his face into the fur. “Take care of Gabe,” he whispered.
Then he led the dog around the truck to the porch.
Gabe crouched beside the animal and ran a gentle hand along his back. His eyes were red-rimmed when he raised them to Joe.
Joe steeled his resolve. “Take care, y’all.” Gabe stood up and caught Joe in a sudden, desperate hug. Joe stiffened, unable
to let himself relax in the embrace. “Take care, buddy. I’ll write.” His voice cracked and he knew he had to hurry.
“You too. Write to me.”
Joe had to wrench himself from Gabe’s clinch. He strode toward the truck, aware of Ruby’s presence closing behind him. He
whirled, defensives in overdrive. He
dared
her with his eyes to mention one word about all he was leaving behind, Mona included.
“This is for you, Joe,” Ruby said softly, holding out a folded note. He noticed the compassion in her eyes, and a lump gathered
in his throat, replacing his defensive words.
He took the note, opened it, and scowled. “No thanks,” he said, but she refused to take it back. He shoved it into his pocket.
“You’re welcome here anytime, Joe. Whenever you feel like coming home.”
“This isn’t my home.”
“That’s what you think.”
Joe shrugged, but her words hurt. For all her smug, intimate knowledge about him, she simply didn’t understand his life.
He pasted on a practiced smile, waved, then climbed into the cab. The truck sputtered to life, a pungent cloud of gas and
dust filling the air. Joe floored it and refused to look back.
Only the roar of emptiness in his heart accompanied him south to Minneapolis.
