Refuge Cove (New Americana 2)
“He’s changed, Marlena. Anybody who knows him will tell you that.”
“Nobody changes, especially John. He’ll always be an alcoholic, and I won’t have him trying to influence my son.”
“Influence him? What are you talking about?” Emma demanded.
“Don’t you know anything?” Marlena glared down at Emma as if she were speaking to a backward child. “Alcoholism is a disease. It’s passed down in families. John’s mother was an alcoholic. So is John. If David inherited the trait, one drink could be enough to tip him over the edge. That’s why I can’t let him be around John—ever.”
“Marlena, John would never—”
“No, that’s enough.” Marlena cut her off. “You don’t even know him. Maybe you think he’s wonderful. Maybe you’re even in love with him. But you don’t know what he can be like.” She turned to Pearl. “You promised to look out for David. Do your job.”
“He’ll be fine, Marlena. I won’t take my eyes off him.” Pearl spoke calmly, as if she’d long since grown accustomed to her sister-in-law’s rants. “Now it’s time for us to open these doors for customers. So run along, dear. I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”
“There’d better not be a problem.” With those words, Marlena stalked outside and drove away.
Pearl unlocked the doors, and turned over the OPEN sign. But if there’d been any customers waiting for an early lunch, they’d gone elsewhere.
“I think I need to sit down.” Emma sank onto a chair, her legs unsteady beneath her.
Pearl gave her a knowing smile. “Don’t take it to heart, honey. Marlena’s been a drama queen for as long as I’ve known her. I try to cut her some slack because she came from a pretty tough background. Horrible family. Like something out of that old movie, Deliverance. You can’t imagine.”
Yes, I can, Emma thought, reminding herself that Pearl didn’t know about her time with Boone.
“Marlena’s fought her way up from her roots, but she’s still insecure—the clothes, the car, the manicures, it’s all part of what she needs to convince herself she’s as good as anybody else. My brother adores her, and she’s good with their kids. But she can be pretty . . . intense, for want of a better word.”
“And John?” Emma rose and began setting napkins and cutlery on the tables.
“He’s part of the past she wants to put behind her. I guess she had a pretty bad time of it with him. I can’t say I blame her for leaving. I know John’s been sober a long time, and that he’d never influence D
avid to drink. But you won’t convince Marlena of that.”
“So I guess the best thing to do is just accept the situation for what it is.” Emma found herself wishing she could confide in this warm, understanding woman and tell her how John yearned to have his son in his life. But she’d already stepped into enough trouble. Maybe some things were better left unsaid.
The first lunch customers began to trickle in. By noon, every booth and table was full. Emma was constantly busy, bustling between the dining room and the kitchen. Still, her thoughts kept straying to John. She knew he’d planned to drive to Boone’s burned-out trailer and look for evidence today, but she had no idea what he was hoping to find. Maybe if they hadn’t had the blowup over David, he’d have told her.
Last night he’d said they needed a break. Still, she couldn’t help hoping he would change his mind and call her. She missed hearing his voice. She missed knowing he was safe and that he cared about her. But her phone had remained stubbornly silent until she turned the ringer off to go down to work.
Was he all right? Had he forgiven her for not telling him about David?
Stepping into a quiet corner, she slipped her phone out of her pocket and checked for voice and text messages. Nothing.
Stop worrying, she told herself. The man’s been in your life just a few days. And now you’re tying yourself in knots because he hasn’t called. Grow up and deal with it, Emma Hunter.
Emma thrust the phone into her pocket and went back to work. But despite her resolve, she couldn’t still the echo of Marlena’s caustic voice in her memory.
Maybe you’re even in love with him. . . .
* * *
Once John had found the old logging road, it wasn’t hard to follow. The worn ruts, clear of overgrowth, showed signs of regular and recent travel, including food wrappers and beer cans tossed out along the sides.
There was no way to know if Boone had been back to the trailer since the burnout. The absence of fresh tire tracks since the last rain suggested that he wasn’t there now. But John knew better than to take anything for granted. The loaded .44 was in his shoulder holster, close at hand. Boone was as wily as a cougar and even more dangerous. He could be anywhere.
Aside from its serious purpose, the drive was a pleasant one. The day was cool but sunny, the air fresh with the fragrance of spruce and hemlock. Squirrels, gathering their winter supply, frisked among the branches. Jays squawked and scolded. A bull moose, with a massive rack, wandered across the road, taking its time. John backed up to give the huge animal plenty of room. With the rut season on, the big boys were known to be ill tempered. They would charge anything that looked like a challenger—even a Jeep.
Given his own frustrations, John couldn’t say he blamed them.
The deeply rutted road was slow going. John had plenty of time for his mind to wander. Mostly it wandered to thoughts of Emma.