When Love Returns Read online

  His posture stiffened, and his eyes hardened for just a second before returning to their normal soft gaze. “It was unfortunate, but I’d rather her be gone than stay and not be the mother Joy needs.”

  Though a beard coated most of his face, his lips were still visible, and her gaze couldn’t help but fall to them. They were thin, pink, and perfect. “Um, so there’s a festival tomorrow. I thought maybe you and Joy would like to go with me?” Her breath caught at the last word as she waited for his answer.

  The twinkle that haunted her dreams lit his eyes, and he squeezed her hand. “I’d love that, as will Joy. What time is it?”

  Relief washed over her, and the breath released. “It starts at noon and runs all afternoon, so I’ll meet you here at 11:30 and we can walk in together.”

  “Great. I’m sure Joy will be excited.” He tucked his phone in his jeans and stared back at her.

  Another silence stretched out between them. Presley hated that they were reduced to small talk. She missed the friend she could tell anything. “Okay, well, I should be going. It’s getting late, and you probably want to get some sleep.” Not wanting to, she rose from the couch, which separated their hands. They cried out at the missing warmth, but she refrained from reaching for him.

  A look crossed his face through Presley was not sure if it was disappointment or if she just wanted it to be. “Let me walk you home then.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that. It’s not far.”

  A genuine smile lit his face. “I know it’s not far. I used to walk there every day, remember?”

  I remember. How could I forget? It was generally the highlight of my day. “If you want, but you don’t have to.”

  “I want,” he said, and for a moment she saw the old Brandon, the teasing twinkle in his eyes and his trademark lopsided smile. She followed him to the front door, where he grabbed his coat and scarf.

  The winter air slapped their faces as they stepped out on the front porch. Pulling her coat tighter, Presley sank deeper in it to keep the heat locked inside.

  “Are you cold?” He unwrapped his scarf and held it out to her. It wasn’t quite the gesture she was hoping for, but she accepted and wrapped it around her neck, enjoying the little bit of warmth it added and the scent of Brandon that now filled her nose.

  The stars were out, reminding her of the many times they laid in the back of his pickup bed and watched them. She had forgotten how bright they were here with few lights blocking their shine. “They’re so beautiful.”

  “What?”

  “The stars.” She pointed to the sky. “I never saw them this bright in Paris. Too many lights.”

  His eyes followed her hands, and he paused. She stopped beside him. “Do you remember the time our Senior year we fell asleep in the truck after watching the stars?” he asked.

  Her ears began their slow burn again. She had been replaying the exact memory in her head. He had fallen asleep before she did that night, and she could have woken him, but instead she curled against his chest, enjoying the beating of his heart in her ear and the steady rise and fall of his muscular chest under her hand. “Mother was so mad when I came in the next morning. She didn’t believe me that we didn’t do anything but sleep.”

  “Mine either.” His laugh was as she remembered it, deep and melodious, and it elicited a laugh from her in return. “Maybe we should do it again.”

  “We would freeze,” she said punching his arm. “We’ll have to wait until summer when it warms up.”

  Immediately she regretted the words as his smile faded. “Right, summer. I’ll be gone by then. Back to the city.”

  Presley cursed her bad timing. She had ruined the mood. They continued the walk, but a tension filled the air this time. “How long are you staying?” She didn’t want to hear the answer, but her heart needed to. It needed to be reminded that whatever it was feeling now, it would not last. Brandon would go home in a few weeks, leaving her alone again.

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. A week, maybe two. Until my father is released and then probably a few more days to make sure Mother can take care of him.”

  It was as Presley expected, not near enough time or maybe too much, depending on how she looked at it. They finished the walk in silence. When they reached her door, she turned to him. “Thank you for the walk.” There was so much more she wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t form the way she wanted them to.

  His eyes stared into hers, and she wondered if he was having the same problem. He took another step toward her, closing the distance, and his hands grabbed hers again. His fingers were cold, but she didn’t care. There was a heat between the two of them when they touched.

  “It really is good to see you, Presley. I didn’t know it, but I’ve missed our friendship.”

  The word was like an icy dagger to her heart. Friends. She forced a tight smile. “Me too.”

  His eyes lingered a moment longer, and Presley thought maybe, just maybe, there was something more than friendship in them. Maybe he would lean across the few inches separating them and place his lips on hers. Her hand fought the urge to reach up and touch his beard. She wanted to feel it, to see if it was soft like his hair. She swallowed as she held his gaze, and then it was gone.

  He cleared his throat and released her hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night.” Though the air was still cold, Presley stood and watched him as he walked away.

  Chapter 7

  Presley’s eyes opened before the alarm went off. She was not much for sleeping in on the weekends anyway, but the thought of spending the day with Brandon kept her up half the night. She should be tired, but a stream of adrenaline coursed through her. Still, she knew this high wouldn’t last, so after dressing, she started a pot of coffee.

  Niko found her lap as she curled up with the steaming beverage. His back arched against her free hand, begging to be petted. As she stroked his black and white fur, his purr reverberated against her leg, and his paws kneaded her jeans. Thankfully, whoever owned him before had him declawed.

  A week after Presley moved back to town, Niko had shown up on her doorstep. It was like he knew she was lonely. She had asked around town as he looked well cared for, but no one could remember seeing him before. That had been her sign she was supposed to keep him.

  “What am I doing, Niko? I shouldn’t be falling for him again. His life isn’t here. This is only going to end in heartbreak again.” Niko said nothing, which was another thing she loved about him. He was the only man who’d ever been in her life who just listened.

  When the coffee was finished, she rinsed the cup in the sink, placed it on the small counter, and checked her appearance in the hall mirror one final time. She was no Morgan, but her hair had agreed to hold a curl today, and it fell gently on her shoulders. Her tiny bit of eye makeup accentuated the intensity of her blue eyes, and her lips even had a sparkly sheen. Not bad.

  Though late morning, the air was still chilly, and she shivered inside her coat. By the time she reached Brandon’s, her fingers were nearly numb. Hopefully most of the festival was going to be indoors, or they wouldn’t be able to stay long.

  She stepped over the creaky third step this time, placed her finger on the small ornate doorbell, and waited, her heart pumping loudly in her chest. Hopefully, Brandon wouldn’t be able to hear the sound.

  The melodic chime echoed through the door, and it swung open, revealing Brandon still in sweats. His disheveled hair gave the appearance of just crawling out of bed. Presley glanced at her watch. It was past eleven thirty am.

  “Did you just wake up?” She didn’t bother to hide the incredulity in her voice.

  “Hello to you too.” He ran his hand across his beard. “I slept in later than normal. It must be from traveling.”

  Presley’s eyebrows raised. She had no idea where he was living now, but she had thought it was still in Texas. “Okay, well are you still up for the festival?”

  He nodded and opened the door wid
er. “Joy has been talking about it non-stop, so even if I weren’t, I have to be.” His lopsided grin reflected how much love he had for his daughter. “Go on into the kitchen. I’ll clean up and meet you there.”

  Her eyes lingered on his face a moment longer, but she looked away when the thought of him in the shower began to heat her cheeks.

  Oblivious, he turned and walked down the hallway, and Presley continued into the kitchen. Beverly and Joy were at the table, coloring in old coloring books.

  “Good morning, Presley,” Beverly said looking up from the book. “Would you like to join us?”

  Presley tried to conceal the smile tugging at her lips. Coloring had long been a favorite pastime of hers. She pulled out the chair next to Joy and picked up one of the other books on the table. It was an old one of princesses. Flipping through the pages to find a clean one, she glanced over at Joy. Her face was focused on her coloring, and she reminded Presley very much of Brandon whenever he was studying for a test. She had the same habit of scrunching her nose and occasionally sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.

  “So, Joy, are you excited about the festival today?” Presley asked as she reached for a light blue crayon.

  Joy’s crayon paused, and she looked up, eyes sparkling with delight. “I am so excited. I have been thinking about it all night. Nana says there’s a pie tasting and hot chocolate and popcorn stringing. I’ve never strung popcorn.” Her words tumbled out like a waterfall.

  “There’s that and a whole lot more. When I was young there were lots of ornament decorating tables. Those were always my favorite.”

  “That sounds fun.” Then her face clouded over. “Course we don’t usually put ornaments on the tree because Daddy is too busy.”

  Presley looked to Beverly who shrugged. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine Brandon not celebrating Christmas. It was always their favorite holiday.

  The first Christmas they spent together, he snuck her into the forest just outside of town and they wandered through the trees for hours until they found the perfect one. He whipped out a saw and cut down a Virginia pine. It wasn’t quite the same as the pine trees he was used to in Washington, but it was a close second. They drug the tree back through the forest, losing a lot of the needles in the process, loaded it into his truck bed, and drove it to his house.

  Once there, they turned on some Christmas music and unloaded the box of ornaments his family had brought with them. Hours later, they laid under the tree and stared up at the lights, exhausted and proud. Presley couldn’t imagine the man who did all that with her no longer excited about Christmas.

  “You mean he doesn’t decorate a tree with you?”

  “He doesn’t usually even remember a tree until the last few days.” Her voice took on a melancholic tone as she turned back to her coloring. “Then we go to whatever local store still has some and get whatever is still there. Sometimes Amber helps me decorate, but Daddy doesn’t have much, so the tree still always looks sad.”

  “Like a Charlie Brown tree?”

  “Who’s Charlie Brown?”

  “Never mind.” Presley shook her head.

  As she shrugged her tiny shoulders in defeat, Presley made a mental promise to remind Brandon of the fun they used to have here. Whatever Morgan and living in a big city had done to him, her hope was that it could be cured with a little small-town magic.

  Her crayon moved across the picture adding shading and depth to the gown the long-haired girl was wearing, but her mind was a million miles away thinking about how best to reconnect Brandon with the roots he seemed to have forgotten.

  “Are we going to sit around and color all day?”

  His voice startled her, and the crayon jumped in her hand, sending a blue line outside of the dress and across the girl’s arm. A small sigh of frustration escaped her lips. It was just a silly book, but as an artist, she took pride in her work, and now this piece was ruined.

  Joy slammed her book closed with such force that the crayons bounced on the table. “Yes, let’s go.”

  “You better dress warm. It was quite cold on the way here,” Presley said, carefully closing her book and stacking it back in the middle. “Beverly, are you coming with us?”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” his mother said, closing her own book and putting the crayons away in the box.

  “What about Anna?” Presley’s preoccupation with Brandon had kept her from noticing Anna’s absence until now.

  “She’s still sleeping,” Beverly replied, “but I’ll leave her a note to tell her where we’ve gone. I can’t stay too long though. I need to get out to see Bruce today.”

  “How is he doing?” Presley asked as they moved to the living room to grab coats. Joy was already in hers and tugging on Brandon’s sleeve in excitement.

  “Better. They think he’ll get to come home soon, but he won’t be able to drive for at least a month.”

  “Good thing there’s nowhere to drive around here.” Brandon’s words were followed by a snort, another new and unattractive habit he had picked up since the last time she saw him. He nodded an apology after Beverly shot him a dirty look and opened the door.

  The winter wind rushed in the house, as cold as when Presley arrived. Brandon wrapped Joy’s scarf tighter, and they ventured out into the frigid air. Grey clouds had moved in, creating a darker feel than almost noon.

  “Looks like snow,” Presley said as her nose began twitching. She had no idea why, but her nose could almost always tell when snow was coming. Her mother swore it was her artistic nature that had her in tune with the weather around her, but Presley always wished it would have picked a different way of alerting her. The twitchy nose always made her want to sneeze.

  “Oh, I hope it snows. We never get snow in Dallas.” Joy spread her arms and turned in a circle as if the snow was already falling and she was spinning in it. “I can’t wait to see how it feels.”

  Presley’s head dropped forward in surprise. “You mean you’ve never seen snow?”

  She shook her head, her eyes serious under her pink fuzzy hat. “Only on television, but I’ve always wanted to.”

  “Well, if it snows, I will come help you build the best snowman after church tomorrow.”

  “Yay!” She shouted the word and accompanied it with a skip around each of the adults. Her exuberance and joy was contagious. Even Brandon cracked a smile, but then again, he always seemed to have one for his daughter.

  As they neared the diner, Max stepped out the door, grunting under his breath, and flipped his sign to closed. He had a heavier flannel shirt on today, but no coat and his faded ball cap was in its trademark place on his head.

  “Are you going to the festival, Max?” Presley didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but big crowds had never been Max’s thing.

  He rolled his eyes. “Layla roped me into judging this year, so I have to go. Not that I want to. Got better things to do here.” He hooked a finger back toward his diner.

  Presley stifled a laugh at his predicament. “But Max, everyone is going to be at the festival. No one would be coming in anyway.”

  He shrugged and harrumphed in his usual manner, but joined them in the short walk to the town barn. Joy stared at him with wide eyes as if unsure whether to be afraid of him or amused by him, which brought another smile to Presley’s face.

  Country music flowed from the barn before they hit the front door. An actual old barn, the building was now a faded red. The inside stalls were removed years ago to open the floor for larger events. Paula used the space for her dance recitals, but it also served as the meeting place for town halls and festivals like today.

  “There better not be dancing,” Max grumbled as he pulled open the door.

  The bright lights inside illuminated the large structure and the booths set up inside. A heat wave rolled out to meet them, sending a shiver down Presley’s spine as it collided with the cold outside.

  “Wow!” For once Joy’s energy was stilled. Her e
yes darted back and forth but her feet seemed rooted to the spot.

  To the left was the popcorn booth. Paula had squeezed her voluptuous frame into a tight red dress, and was eating about as much popcorn as she was popping with the air popper that was plugged into some unseen outlet with a long orange extension cord.

  Trudy’s table was next, a popup table sporting a myriad of different colored paints, aprons, and wood ornaments. Trudy herself was clad in her overalls – a stark contrast to Paula’s formal dress.

  A few feet from Trudy, Ned, in his button-down shirt and bow tie, stared down into a crock pot, which Presley assumed held wax. He dipped a string in the pot, squealed in pain, and plunged his finger into his mouth.

  A chuckle escaped her lips as she continued scanning the room. There was a table across the back lined with pies and hot chocolate. To the right were tables to sit at, a wreath making table, and Justin, who was playing the music off his computer.

  “Where do you want to go first?” Brandon asked Joy, masking his own annoyance though Presley could see it in his eyes.

  Her eyes jumped from one place to the next. “There.” She pointed to Trudy, which pleased Presley. Artistic outlets were right up her alley.

  Trudy raised her eyebrows as they approached, and Presley shook her head a tiny bit in an effort to tell her she would spill all later.

  “Well, who is this angel?” Trudy asked staring at Joy.

  “I’m Joy. Who are you?”

  Her lack of shyness was surprising.

  Trudy smiled back. “I’m Trudy. What would you like to paint?”

  Joy scanned the offerings. Trudy had carved out bells, trees, stars, and plump Santas. Joy’s hand hovered over each as if she couldn’t decide before she picked up the tree. Trudy handed her a brush and poured some green, yellow, and red paint in tiny tubs. Joy dipped the brush cautiously in the green and began to sweep it across her tree.

  Unable to help herself, Presley picked up a Santa and a brush and began coloring her own. Brandon and Beverly watched in amusement. The flicker of annoyance left Brandon’s eyes as he watched Joy finish the green and then dot the lights with meticulous strokes.