A Family at Last

The young moms and their children filtered out amid calls of “Happy Valentine’s Day,” and promises to see him before he left Nashville. Along the way, they collected plates of cookies and the Crock-Pot, and tossed disposable plates and cups into the trash receptacle. A tidy bunch, she thought with approval.

Karen felt Chris’s assessing gaze flick over her. He was clearly aware of her presence, although he made no sign of acknowledgment.

Finally, the outer door closed behind the last mother and child. Chris stood amid a jumble of balloons, his expression wary. A few leftover bubbles escaped one sleeve.

To break the silence, Karen asked, “How did you do that?”

He glanced down. “There’s a tube,” he said distractedly. “I ordered it on the Internet.” After an awkward pause: “Care to have a seat, or do you plan to challenge me to a duel? I’m afraid my sword arm’s rusty.”

“No duel.” Although her instincts urged her to stand and fight, Karen knew she would be wise to enlist the man’s cooperation, instead. Tucking her tweed skirt beneath her, she perched on a sofa. “Chris, the reason I’m here—”

He raised one hand to stop her. “First, are you speaking on behalf of someone else or on your own account?”

“Nobody put me up to it,” she assured him.

She had no idea how her brother would react if he learned she’d come here. He might find the gesture touching, or he might snarl that she should let him fight his own battles. Such anger was understandable, considering what he’d been through.

After a soul-searing stretch in prison for manslaughter, he’d struggled to complete a college degree and find work as a journalist, with only sporadic success. Then, nearly six years ago, their mother, Renée—publisher, editor and chief reporter for the Downhome Gazette since their father’s death—had suffered crippling injuries when a tractor hit her car.

Barry had returned to fill in for her at work and, when the permanence of her injuries became evident, he’d assumed the position full-time. While the town had more or less accepted him, he’d developed an obsession with clearing his name. And he’d never relinquished his dream of becoming a world-class international reporter.

“Well?” Chris interlaced his fingers.

“I’m sure you’re aware that I opposed hiring you,” she began.

“My grandmother keeps me current.”

“I don’t doubt that you’re a good doctor,” she added. “And I know you want to be close to Mae Anne…”

“But you still think I should have lied on the witness stand,” he finished, leaning forward intently.

She blinked, trying to figure out what he meant. “About what?”

“Don’t act coy. It doesn’t suit you.” Tension gave his voice a rough edge. “You wanted me to deny what I saw that night, and when I wouldn’t, you cut me off.”

How could he twist the situation so completely? Karen struggled to find the right words. “Maybe that’s what you’ve told yourself all these years. Maybe that’s what you’ve needed to believe.”

Anger burned in Chris’s gaze. “You and your family want to blame me for everything that went wrong. That’s unfair, although I’m willing to accept my share of the guilt.”

That was news to her. “You didn’t say so on the stand.”

“I never denied that I was at least half-responsible for the prank,” he answered grimly. “And it was my dispute in the first place. Do you think I don’t have sleepless nights over the fact that a man died and my best friend went to prison? But I’m not the one who—” He stopped abruptly. “This is futile. It’s just easier to make me out to be the villain because I wouldn’t get up on the witness stand and pretend I didn’t see your brother strike Norbert Anglin with a shovel.”

“Barry only hit him once, not three times like the police said,” Karen retorted. “You’re the one who sneaked back later. You’re the one who finished him off.”

“What?” He stared at her in disbelief. “What kind of nonsense is that?”

Barry says…The phrase died unspoken. Karen had heard her brother’s theories so often she’d almost forgotten how far they strayed from the account presented at the trial.

In the past few years, Barry had undertaken a personal investigation. After interviewing a couple of secondary witnesses, he’d pieced together an alternative scenario in which Chris must have struck the fatal blows after Barry had fled.

Karen hesitated. She wasn’t sure when she’d begun accepting her brother’s speculation as fact. How embarrassing to have relied on it, when she’d hoped to play the diplomat.

Chris forged ahead. “It just goes to prove what Mae Anne says—your family’s been blackening my name. That’s one of the reasons I decided to go back, so I could reestablish my reputation. But accusing me of murder? Give me a break, Karen. That’s a reach, even for you Lowells.”

“I apologize.” Although it irked her to utter those words, she had to focus on her goal. “I didn’t intend to make accusations.”

“You came to tell me to stay away from Downhome.” A trace of pain showed on Chris’s face. “Do you think I didn’t figure that out the minute I saw you?”

Although she wondered at his reaction, Karen focused on making her case. “You’ve built a reputation and a patient base in Nashville. And made a lot of friends, I’m sure. If you want to be closer to your grandmother, we can find other ways to arrange that.”

“I don’t want to ‘arrange’ anything. I love Mae Anne more than anyone else in the world.” The statement emerged ragged with emotion.

Karen found the remark odd, considering that Chris had a mother and sister living in Boston. Still, she understood how much he cared about the feisty old lady.

The truth was, Mae Anne and Karen had become friends, too. The whole nursing-home clientele was like family to her, in addition to her own mother’s decision to live there. The out-spoken Mrs. McRay had become such a favorite that Karen often accompanied her to council meetings and other activities.

They’d grown apart these past few months, ever since Chris had applied for an opening at the town clinic. Karen missed their closeness.

Doggedly, she resumed her argument. “I know you’ve made a habit of visiting on the weekends when I’m off duty.” Her mother had mentioned it several times. “There’s no reason to be so discreet. I’m happy for you to drop by whenever you like. I could also arrange for her to travel to Nashville more often.” Plenty of people would be happy to give the popular lady a ride on their business and shopping trips to the city.

Chris waved away the offer. “Thanks, but no. Besides, that isn’t the only issue.”

“You don’t need to clear your name,” Karen said desperately. “Nobody believes Barry.”

“You do,” he pointed out. “Now I gather he’s gone so far as to suggest I’m the killer. Apparently, my grandmother’s protestations haven’t been enough to safeguard my name.”

“Oh, yes, they have!” she insisted. “The other two search-committee members supported you, and the city council followed their recommendation. You can’t be uprooting your career because you care whether a few people listen to my brother’s grumbling!”

“Your brother runs the newspaper.”

“He’s printed nothing about this. Nothing!”

In the stillness, Karen found herself intensely conscious of Chris’s rapid breathing and the sheen of perspiration on his brow. She waited, hoping he’d rethink this cruel plan to impose his presence on her town.

“I have other reasons for why I choose to return.” All the light in the room seemed focused on his face. “I left a couple of things…unfinished, and I want to finish them. Frankly, I don’t know what I expect to happen or how long I’ll stay. At least a year—I owe the town that much for hiring me.”

She tried to muster an argument. No words came.

“I’m not going to hang my head or keep a low profile, either.” Chris picked up momentum as he went. “I didn’t do anything wrong, but some people I cared about turned against me. Believe me, I’ve paid for it in ways you can’t imagine. Well, I’m sorry if my presence inconveniences you and Barry, but you’re going to have to deal with it.”

Karen flushed with anger. How embarrassing that she’d nearly let this man win her over with a few parlor tricks and a smile. She’d been an idiot to expect him to cooperate.

“You’re sorry if you inconvenienced Barry by sending him to prison?” she repeated. “I wish you’d look a little harder at why those issues trouble you. Maybe it has something to do with a guilty conscience!”

Chris folded his arms. “I’m sorry you wasted your time driving to Nashville. If anything, you’ve only affirmed my decision.”

Karen gathered her purse and headed for the door. She wished she could utter some zinger—a grand finale of her own—if only to ease her sense of failure, but nothing sprang to mind.