The Prodigal's Return

“Are you going to help me?” the teenager asked, her voice full of a little girl’s fear. “I don’t know what to do. And I thought you of all people would…you know, understand. Will you help me?”

Contradicting impulses left Jenn speechless while she did some of the fastest thinking of her life. If she tried to talk Traci into going to her parents, she’d lose this battle before it began. That was a discussion for another time, when the girl didn’t already look ready to bolt for the door. She could tell the Carpenters herself, but to the teen that would be the worst kind of betrayal. And that would blow Jenn’s shot at damage control.

And let’s not forget my father and my sparkling new fresh start. And what he and his congregation would expect her to do as the sensible, conservative, levelheaded leader she’d agreed to be when she’d taken the volunteer position with the church’s teens.

Helping Traci on her own meant breaking the trust of everyone around her. Keeping the girl’s secret, even for a few days, might cost Jenn a whole lot more than her job working with Teens in Action.

But none of that could compete with keeping the girl and her baby safe. And if Jenn were the only adult Traci was asking for guidance, that meant the next words out of her mouth could only be—

“Of course I’ll help.” She covered Traci’s hand with her own. “I’ll do whatever I can, on one condition. You leave the door open to talking with your parents.”

“If you tell them, I’ll run away. I can move in with my guy anytime I want—”

“I’m not going to tell anyone anything. But you might need to, if—”

“Jenn, Traci.” Brett Hamilton headed toward them from the other side of the restaurant. “We’ve got to get ready for the game.”

Giving her watch an annoyed glance, Jenn squeezed Traci’s hand. “I’m going to set up an appointment for you with a friend of mine who works in the free clinic in Colter. I’ll get you in first thing Monday. They open at ten.”

Traci pulled her hand away as the all-state center she’d gone steady with since freshmen year drew closer.

“Promise me you’ll keep the appointment.” Jenn scribbled her cell number on a napkin and shoved it into the teenager’s hand, in case the girl had lost the card she’d given all the kids their first Saturday together. “You can call me anytime you need to. I’ll even take you to the clinic if you want.”

Traci glanced nervously at Brett.

“Promise me you’ll see the doctor,” Jenn pressed. “We have to be sure—”

“Okay, I promise.” Traci shoved the napkin into her jacket pocket a second before Brett reached their table. “But I’ll go myself.”

“You ready?” Brett gave Traci’s cheek a noisy kiss.

“Yeah.” Traci edged around him and headed for the door without looking back.

With a wink and a shrug for Jenn, Brett trailed after her.

Jenn lagged behind as the kids paired up and piled back into their cars. She paid her bill and tried to swallow the bitter taste of French fries and foreboding. Just once, couldn’t she catch a break in this town?

Some in the church had been concerned, her father had said, when she’d taken on the floundering teen group.

Concerned.

After all, given her history, was she really the kind of person they wanted influencing their impressionable children? The facts were what they were. She’d been a runaway. An unwed teen mother. She was only a slightly older version of the girl who’d turned to the parties and addictions to obliterate the self-hatred and emptiness she’d only made worse. She’d destroyed her relationship with her parents and had almost cost her father his church.

She’d come back home determined to live down her past and make a fresh start for her daughter’s sake. Now with one simple offer to help a reckless teenager who reminded her too much of herself at seventeen, she was angling for trouble all over again. The kind of trouble that made being seen taking a few bags of food to Nathan Cain a nonissue.

Wrestling open the rusted door of her car, she slid inside and stared at the picturesque world on the other side of the windshield. Fought the childish urge to pick up Mandy at Ashley’s and drive away from Rivermist and the past that seemed incapable of letting her go.

She’d felt a shining moment of strength when she’d stood up to her father that morning. With a snort, she pulled out onto North Street and headed for the Cain place. Had she really grown up and grown stronger over the last seven years, or had she simply gotten better at faking it?

NOW ENTERING RIVERMISt, GEORGIA, the faded sign read in the midday sun. The same faded, beaten-up sign that had been there for as long as Neal could remember.

He was hands down the most unwelcome person to ever enter Rivermist. But somewhere between his apartment and the office that morning, he’d accepted the inevitable. He had to make sure his father was all right. It was time to settle things with the man and this place. So Stephen had taken the Martinez meeting solo after all, and Neal had settled for a soul-searching, two-hour detour down I-75 South.

A part of him hated Nathan for making him care this much again. Another, desperate part needed to see the old man so badly it made no sense. Nothing good could come from letting himself be sucked back into this place. He’d bet his restored ’65 Mustang GT Fastback on it—one of the few luxuries he’d indulged in since regaining control of his trust fund.

Neal winced.

He’d been so certain staying away the last three years was the right thing. Most of him still was. But what if…

Damn.

There was no room in his world for what-ifs. He’d finally accepted his mistakes and he’d moved on. He’d been determined that as much good as possible would come from Bobby’s death, his prison sentence and the lives both had shattered. What-if wasn’t going to make that happen. But second thoughts had hounded him the entire drive over.

Medical what-ifs—all likely candidates for a man his father’s age—that Doc Harden hadn’t confirmed nor denied. What the cranky old doctor had said repeatedly was that Neal should get his black-sheep self home and ask his father what was going on in person.

Neal shoved the transmission into Reverse. Gripping the steering wheel, he fantasized about banking into a steep turn and barreling back to Atlanta and the people he actually could help. Then with a curse, he yanked the gearshift back to Neutral and set the hand brake.

Nathan had refused any but the most basic medical intervention for whatever ailed him. Maybe Neal could talk his father into doing more, the doctor had suggested.

Maybe.

The one useless thing Neal despised more than what-if.

His life was about cold, hard reality. No more destructive emotions. No grand gestures. No time for wishing things were different or looking back to what had been. Now maybe had brought him to a screeching halt on the outskirts of town, unable to keep going for more reasons than just Nathan.

“Jennifer Gardner.”

There. He’d said her name, and it hadn’t hurt a bit.

She’d no doubt moved away years ago. Gotten on with a life that could never have included him. She’d have missed him. Mourned for him. But she’d have moved on by now. And that’s what he’d wanted for her, why he’d refused to answer the letters she’d written to him in prison. Thirty of them in all. Precious ties to the beautiful girl he’d once loved. Letters still kept in the back of his bedroom closet.

Unopened.

Unread.

Impossible to throw away.

With the discipline that came from years of practice, he refused to let her face materialize in his mind. But as always, the perfection of her crystal-clear laugh haunted him.

What if she was still in Rivermist…

With a curse, he revved the idling Ford engine, hating the rush of helplessness that came with the sound. Only a coward would turn back now, but that’s exactly what his instincts told him to do.

Run.

Run just one more time, and leave these people in peace.

Flipping his hometown’s welcome sign the bird, he revved the motor again. But he stayed put, same as before. Not able to move forward or head back. The man he’d become didn’t run. He fought until he found a way to get through whatever was facing him.