Unforgettable You Page 4

  Aiyana studied him. “I don’t think disappointed is the right word.”

  He wished he didn’t care what Jada had said, but he did. “What word would you choose?”

  “Worried.”

  “Well, she has nothing to worry about. I plan to stay well away.”

  “I did make it clear that you wouldn’t bother her.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  She lingered, waiting for him to look up at her again. When he did, she said, “She asked if you were married.”

  Every muscle in his body went taut. “Because...”

  “She didn’t say, but if my opinion matters at all, I think it’s because she loved you, too.”

  She certainly hadn’t done anything to show it. For months after he’d been sent to Rockport Academy outside bitterly cold Chicago, he’d looked for a letter, a phone call, anything. He’d been so devastated, so lonely, that his need manifested itself as a physical ache. His mother had been so angry that he’d let his brother get hold of a gun she wasn’t speaking to him (the fact that she’d taken up with yet another man probably had even more to do with her neglect). His brother had been charged as an adult, and since the whole trial process had taken over a year, due to his age and both sides fighting over how he should be tried, he was sent to a regular adult prison. Maddox had lost the one girl he’d loved more than anything he’d ever loved before. And he’d had to live with the knowledge that her little brother, who was only eleven, had been crippled, and she blamed him. Only Aiyana had reached out to him during those terrible months when he’d come so close to running away from that overly strict school and striking out on his own. She’d forced him to see that, as oppressive as the school was, it provided him with his only avenue toward a second chance, that it was an opportunity he’d be foolish to waste, and she’d promised him that he’d receive the money he needed for college if only he’d bring up his grades and begin to apply himself.

  Maddox still wasn’t sure what had caused him to listen to Aiyana. It certainly wasn’t the promise of college. It was her compassion and her fire, her absolute determination, not to lose him to the life he would’ve had otherwise, he supposed. He remembered being surprised she cared so much. “Do you have any idea what went wrong in her marriage?”

  She shook her head. “None. I know Susan but not well, and Jada and I have not stayed in touch.”

  She’d given him her sympathy thirteen years ago, when everyone else had sympathized exclusively with the Brookses. “What’s Susan like these days? Has she changed?”

  “In my opinion, she has, but not for the better.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “From what I’ve heard, she’s never been very nurturing to Jada. That, of course, got worse after the...accident. You may think Susan blames you and your brother, but I’m sure Jada has taken her own share of the blame. The weird thing is...as hard as she’s been on Jada, she seems to be the opposite with Atticus. I’ve seen him around town. He’s capable of living a full life despite his disability, and yet she babies him like crazy. He never left for school, is still living with her to this day.”

  Maddox put several of the files he had out into his right-hand drawer. “Well, when Jada tells him I’m back, maybe he’ll decide to move.”

  “I think that would be the best thing for him.”

  “You’re trying to make sure I feel comfortable here.”

  “Is it working?” she joked.

  “I believe in what you’re doing with the school, the kids.”

  “Which means you’ll stay.”

  “Yeah. What you’re trying to accomplish here is bigger than my own personal discomfort.”

  Her smile widened as she stood. “I knew you were the right man for the job.”

  He smiled, too, until she left. Then he let his head fall onto the back of his chair.

  * * *

  Did she tell her mother and brother that Maddox was living in Silver Springs or let Susan and Atticus bump into him one day and figure it out for themselves?

  Jada stewed about that, as she had all weekend, while she closed the shop Monday night and headed home. Although it was after nine, thanks to the long days of summer the sun had barely set and the air was still warm and pregnant with the scent of flowers, so many of which were blooming in the pots that hung from the streetlights. Summer was when all the tourists came through. Her mother couldn’t afford not to capitalize on the influx, so it’d been a long day for Jada. She hadn’t taken time to pack anything for dinner, and she hadn’t been able to leave the store to pick up something, so she was hungry as well as tired. Her daughter had left around four thirty, having been invited to dinner and a movie in nearby Santa Barbara with Annie and her family, which left Jada to finish out those last five hours on her own. Although that meant she’d had nothing but the cookies in the shop to eat, it also meant Maya would be gone for the next two or more hours and she could have some private time to talk to Susan and Atticus—if she wanted it.

  It was probably time to address the past. She and her mother had never really talked about what happened, not after the initial blaming and shaming and, when she found out she was pregnant, pressure for her to put the baby up for adoption. When she’d refused to agree, Susan had grown stony and cold and berated her at every turn. She’d acted as if Jada had caused the loss of her brother’s mobility—essentially the loss of his entire future productivity—and was now foisting an illegitimate baby on the family to care for when they were already reeling. Her father had just gone silent. If Jada did try to talk to him, he was distant, the conversation strained—not real or honest, and definitely not what she’d needed. So she’d moved to LA and had very little interaction with her family during the next few years. As hard as it was to go out on her own at eighteen, and with a baby, it was easier than continuing to bow beneath the overwhelming burden of their disapproval and blame. It wasn’t until after she married and her husband finally reached out that they began to associate again, and then very slowly. Her parents had eventually embraced Eric as if they were relieved they were no longer even remotely responsible for her well-being, as if they could finally accept her again on these new terms, and started to acknowledge Maya. And Jada had done her part to let the past go. She certainly hadn’t wanted to reopen old wounds. By that point, she’d figured some kind of relationship was better than none, especially because she was beginning to struggle in her marriage, to wonder if she’d made a mistake in committing herself to a man she wasn’t passionate about. She’d needed them, needed someone. But her father had gone to his grave before they could ever truly get over what’d happened.

  She didn’t want the same thing to happen with her mother.

  She told herself she’d call Atticus away from his gaming console, which was where he’d be because he was always there, and confront them both.

  But when she walked in, she saw her mother looking pale and drawn as she lay on the couch, watching TV, and couldn’t bring herself to mention Maddox. Having him in town didn’t have to impact them. What did it change? Nothing! His presence wouldn’t alter their routine, compromise their financial picture, limit their opportunities, cost them anything. If they ignored him and went about their business, he could ignore them and go about his business, and they could coexist without a problem.

  “How’d we do today?” Susan asked as she heard Jada step into the living room.

  “We had a flurry of customers around dinnertime. I put the deposit—five hundred and forty-eight dollars—in the night drop on the way home.”

  “Thank God. The house payment is coming out of my account tomorrow.”

  “Will you have enough to cover it?”

  She adjusted the pillow under her head. “Barely.”

  “When does your car payment come out?”

  “Not for a few days.”

  They’d have more sales by
then, but rent on the store would be due soon, too, not to mention the utilities and advertising expenses.

  “Where’s Maya?” Susan asked.

  A hint of resentment flared up. Her mother had grown to love Maya so much since they’d come to Silver Springs—which was a good thing, Jada reminded herself as she tamped those bitter feelings back down. Still, a little of that love would’ve been nice when Maya was just a baby and Jada had been so desperately in need of emotional support. Maybe she wouldn’t have made the mistake of marrying Eric, would’ve been able to distinguish between desperation and true love, false hope and a genuine connection. “Santa Barbara.”

  “What’s she doing there?”

  “Seeing a movie with Annie. Where’s Atticus?”

  “In his room.”

  No surprise. “I was wondering if he’d be willing to help out at Sugar Mama tomorrow. I have a few things I need to do for my own business.”

  “You do what you need to,” her mother said. “I’ve got the store.”

  That was the problem. Her mother didn’t have the store, shouldn’t be working eleven hours straight through. She was no longer up to it, and Atticus was perfectly capable. “Why can’t he take my place?”

  “It’s hard for him to maneuver his wheelchair behind the counters and to reach into the cases and hand customers their sacks, that sort of thing.”

  “We can figure out a way to make it work.”

  “He’s tried. It’s too difficult.”

  He could absolutely do it. That he wouldn’t irritated Jada. And the fact that their mother enabled his excuses made it all worse. “Maya could go with him and do all the reaching and handing.”

  “He has anxiety problems, Jada. Being in charge of the store makes it worse. I don’t want to send him spiraling into another depression.”

  But was it really anxiety? Or a manipulation technique designed to make sure he never had to do anything he didn’t want to?

  Jada was tempted to ask. It was time someone did. Her mother was so lost without her father she was indulging Atticus in every respect, focusing so much of her attention on him that he’d probably never leave home. And maybe that was her intention, to make sure she’d never be alone.

  Jada opened her mouth to say something but, knowing it would cause an argument, clamped it shut again and headed for the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” her mother called.

  “Getting something to eat. Are you hungry?”

  “No. Atticus and I ate earlier. There’s a good show on. You should come watch it with me.”

  “I can’t,” Jada said. Now that she’d finished working at the store, she had her own work to do.

  4

  Maddox couldn’t help himself. He drove past Jada’s house on his way home. He’d managed not to go over on that side of town since he’d been back, but now that he knew she was back, too, it was harder.

  He saw an old Buick, a car so dated he associated it with her mother, a practical, not overly expensive truck with a wheelchair lift, which had to belong to Atticus, and a newer Chevy Volt parked on the street.

  That had to be Jada’s vehicle right there.

  At least now he knew what she drove and would be aware that she was close by if he spotted it.

  He told himself to get the hell out of there. It was not so late yet that the house was dark. Someone could easily glance out the window and spot him.

  But instead of leaving, he stopped completely and idled right in front of the house. Suddenly and inexplicably, he was tempted to go to the door. He wanted to tell them, while they were all there together, that he was sorry for what’d happened to Atticus, and that, although they refused to accept his apology, he was sincere. He also wanted to promise that he wouldn’t bother them ever again, that they had nothing to worry about where he was concerned. He didn’t like the idea of Jada cringing at the prospect of bumping into him or being hesitant to go out for fear she might encounter him. Her family would probably be looking over their shoulders, too, filled with dread as they scoured the area for any glimpse of him—as if he was a leper and might infect them if he came too close.

  He hated feeling as though, just by being here, he made someone else that miserable.

  He leaned forward so he could see out his passenger window. The drapes were open on the big picture window in front. What would they do if they saw him? Would they come out and yell at him to get away?

  He wondered if they’d raise a fuss now that they knew he was in town or try to convince Aiyana that she should hire someone else.

  She should hire someone else, he thought. Although he was eager to take charge of New Horizons for Girls, he’d feel lower than dirt if she had to fight the Brooks family and all their friends and sympathizers on his behalf. He couldn’t imagine anyone else would support her if she took up for him, so she could find herself facing a formidable force alone. Very few people in Silver Springs knew him personally. What they did know was that he’d been busted for trying to steal a car when he was sixteen, had to go to a correctional school, where he and his brother had caused serious trouble, so much so that one of their own had been injured for life.

  His reputation wasn’t anything that would recommend him...

  He waited for several seconds but no one came to the window or walked outside. Had that happened, he would’ve parked and gotten out of his truck, allowed them their chance to scream and rail at him. But knowing how unwelcome he’d be even though he was there to apologize made him decide to give it some time. Perhaps it’d be easier if he approached them after a few weeks had gone by and they had a chance to get used to the idea of his being in town. If nothing happened as a result of his presence, they could possibly develop some trust that he wasn’t going to get in their way.

  With a sigh, he gave his truck some gas and, at the end of the street, turned toward his own place, which was situated on a sixteen-acre tangerine orchard toward the end of the ten-mile-long east-west valley that held Silver Springs like a hand cupping a precious sip of water.

  As attractive and affluent as downtown Silver Springs was, he liked living out away from the quaint shops and upscale restaurants. He preferred wide-open spaces and being able to smell the rich soil and citrus on the property. Known for its Mediterranean climate, with hot, dry summers and temperate winters, Silver Springs could grow almost anything—and did. Avocados, walnuts, figs, winter and summer vegetables, pears and other fruit were all produced in the area, along with a variety of fresh herbs. There wasn’t a better place to grow fresh fruits and vegetables on the planet.

  He loved this part of California, which was why it was so difficult to imagine leaving again, but he’d do it to protect Aiyana from any kind of backlash.

  When he pulled down the dirt road that led to his house, his landlord, Uriah Lamb, a crusty old farmer with a salt-and-pepper flattop, came to stand in his doorway and peer out as though he’d been listening for Maddox’s truck. Uriah lived alone in the 1920s house that fronted the road; Maddox lived in a smaller one-bedroom behind, originally built for Uriah’s son, who now lived on the East Coast.

  The smell of fresh-cut grass, strong and pervasive, rose to Maddox’s nostrils the second he climbed out. Uriah cut the grass regularly whether it needed it or not. Maddox’s landlord was always up at dawn and in bed by ten. He’d lost his wife of fifty years only eight months ago, so routine was about all he had left. He was estranged from his only son; Maddox wasn’t sure why. He only knew that Uriah had mumbled something about it when he’d first seen the house.

  “I’ve got a fresh watermelon,” Uriah called as soon as Maddox drew within earshot. “Would you like to come in and have a slice?”

  Eager to head to his own place, Maddox nearly refused. But then he reconsidered. What would it hurt to stop in for a minute? The old guy would be going to bed soon—would probably be in bed now if he
hadn’t been waiting for Maddox—so it wasn’t as if he’d expect Maddox to stay long. “Sure. That sounds great.”

  Maddox had been inside Uriah’s house before, when he was signing the lease, but he was once again struck by the simplicity of the old guy’s existence. Although everything was dated, it was in good repair. If Uriah wasn’t out working in the orchard fertilizing, pruning, fixing the irrigation system or painting tree trunks to protect against pests, he was adding electrical tape to whatever needed it, painting the fence around his house to protect it from the elements or caulking any nook or cranny that might possibly be subjected to damaging moisture. He could serve as the poster boy for the saying “Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.”

  “How’s everything working back there?” Uriah asked as he led Maddox into his kitchen.

  Contextual clues made it easy for Maddox to assume “back there” meant the house he was living in. “Great.”

  “Shower isn’t leaking again...”

  “No, sir. I’d alert you if it was.”

  “You’ll have to watch the toilets. The septic tank’s getting pretty full.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  He put a plate with a gold pattern on the table bearing a thick, round slice of watermelon and provided a fork.

  Uriah brought his own slice with him when he came over to sit down across from Maddox. He hesitated for a moment before digging in and his eyes flicked toward the stove. Maddox wondered if he was remembering all the times he must’ve sat in this kitchen with his wife, who was now gone. This was his first summer without her.

  After clearing his throat, the old man took a deep breath as if he had to dredge up enough interest to actually eat, now that he’d gotten the watermelon sliced.

  “You okay?” Maddox asked.

  “Got a heat wave comin’,” he said instead of answering. He might not have heard. He was losing his hearing. But Maddox had the feeling that wasn’t the case this time. He didn’t want to talk about the difficulty of his current situation. “S’pose to be over a hundred this next week.”