Ryan's Return Page 4

  Ryan smiled to himself as a freshly painted billboard greeted his eyes.

  Two miles to Serenity Springs, home of the world's oldest teacup collection. Visit nearby

  Snake River for the best fishing, canoeing, and camping Mother Nature can provide. Exit at Main Street.

  So old Josephine had finally found a place to boast about her teacups. Ryan couldn't help but be amused. He had to admit he was feeling curious about his hometown.

  He pushed his foot down on the gas pedal of the red Ferrari. The car wasn't his. He had rented it for the trip. After all, Serenity Springs had invited the celebrity home, not the man. They wanted him for flash and excitement. He might as well live up to his reputation.

  The car burst forward under his hands, and the sense of speed was exhilarating. Then a flash of light in the rearview mirror caught his eye. He looked up and swore. Damn. A cop car was chasing his dust.

  Ryan slowed down and pulled over to the edge of the highway, tapping his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel as he waited for the policeman to approach.

  The officer moved with the speed of a lumbering cow. He opened his door, put one foot out, looked at something on the seat next to him, put the other foot out, and finally stood up. There was something familiar about him, but he wore a hat and dark glasses, making it impossible for Ryan to see his face.

  When the officer got to his car, Ryan rolled down the window and took off his sunglasses. The cop put his hand on the roof of the car and looked at him. "Okay, city boy, let's see your -- God almighty. Ryan Hunter, is that you?"

  Ryan nodded his head, squinting to get a better look at the man. "That's me. And you are..."

  "Will. Will Hodgkins." The man removed his sunglasses. "Don't you remember me?"

  "Sure, of course." Ryan nodded his head. Will had been in Andrew's class, one of his better friends, in fact. Ryan wondered if Will and his brother were still close.

  If so, he had a feeling this ticket was getting more expensive by the minute.

  "I can't believe it's you." Will shook his head. "I never thought you'd come back."

  "Yeah, well, someone sent me an invitation."

  "Kara Delaney. She's stirring up all kinds of trouble."

  "Sounds like my kind of woman."

  "Right." Will frowned. "I wasn't in favor of the town inviting you, just so you know up front. I thought it was a slap in Andrew's face. But I was outvoted."

  "I see."

  Will straightened up. "But that was that, and this is this. You were speeding, Ryan, and I'm a sheriff now, so I have to give you a ticket. Can't do otherwise. Wouldn't be right."

  "I understand. What happened to Dirk Anders? Did he retire?"

  "Not yet. He's still my boss. But he's getting on in years, same as Jonas." Will paused. "Quite a car you got here. Those pictures you take must be worth a lot of money."

  "They are to some people."

  "Hannah Davies has a whole shelf of your work at the library. She's going to be happier than a flea on a dog when she sees you. Where are you staying?"

  "Not with Andrew. I'm sure my brother wouldn't have me in his house, and I doubt Becky Lee would either."

  Will stared at him for a long moment. "Becky Lee's dead, Ryan. Gone eleven years now."

  The words took Ryan by complete surprise. Dead? Becky Lee was dead? A sudden burst of pain ripped through him as he remembered his high school sweetheart.

  "No. No." He shook his head in bewilderment. "That's not possible. She's our age."

  "I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

  "How? She was so young. My God, it must have happened ..."

  "Before their first anniversary," Will finished. He scratched his head, clearly puzzled. "I can't believe you don't know."

  "Know what?"

  "She was leaving Andrew. Packed up the car and the baby and left town with a note saying she was going to find you, Ryan. Got hit by a drunk driver ten miles out of town. The baby made it. She didn't."

  "Goddammit." Ryan looked into Will's face. "I didn't ask her to come."

  Will stared back at him without saying a word.

  "Does Andrew know that?" Ryan asked. "Does he blame me for her death?"

  "What do you think?"

  Ryan thought his brother had one more reason to hate his guts. "The only thing I got from Becky Lee was a baby announcement. I figured she and Andrew must be happy together if they were having kids so soon. Guess they just couldn't wait to start a family."

  Will sent him another curious look, then shook his head and began to write out a ticket. "How long will you be staying?"

  "A few days. I'm not sure." Ryan slid his sunglasses over his eyes, still reeling from the news of Becky Lee's death. He couldn't imagine her body still and lifeless. In his mind he could see her on the sidelines at the high school football game, cheering him on in her short red skirt with her colorful pom-poms. He could still remember her wicked smile, her teasing manner, her love of adventure.

  They had necked under the grandstands, smoked cigarettes in the supply closet at the high school, and sneaked sloe gin into their 7-Up cans at the school dance. A woman more full of life he could not imagine.

  Becky Lee. Goddammit.

  Ryan hit his fist against the steering wheel.

  Will handed him the ticket. Ryan tossed it onto the passenger seat.

  "I really thought you knew," Will said.

  Ryan shook his head, his mouth and jaw so tight with emotion he couldn't get a word out.

  "I guess you would have found out sooner or later. Take it a little slower into town. Okay?"

  Ryan nodded.

  Will patted the hood of the car. "Nice wheels. They suit you."

  Ryan let out a breath as Will walked away. Through his rearview mirror, he watched him get into the patrol car. Will Hodgkins, once voted class clown, was now a sheriff, and Becky Lee, the most vibrant girl in school, was dead. He couldn't believe it. And she had died on her way out of town. She had never had a chance to see the big city, never danced in a smoky nightclub the way she had dreamed about, never seen London or Paris or any of the places he had come to take for granted.

  What a waste. What an incredible waste.

  Will drove away long before Ryan had enough courage to turn the key in the ignition. Finally he started the car, feeling a mix of emotions. He wanted to go forward. At the same time he wanted to go back to where he had been before the damned invitation arrived, before he had learned about Becky Lee, before he had had to think about his father and brother again.

  But he couldn't walk away now. He only had part of the picture, a glimpse of the past. He needed to know the rest.

  * * *

  Ryan pulled the car onto the highway. A half mile outside of town, he saw the graveyard behind the church. He didn't intend to stop, but at the last moment he turned the wheel and pulled into the parking lot, bringing the Ferrari to a stop in front of the sign announcing the time of the next mass.

  Without allowing himself to think too long about his actions, he got out of the car and walked down the path next to the church, the one that led to the cemetery in back.

  His grandparents were buried in the cemetery along with his great-grandparents, an aunt, and a cousin. He had been to the cemetery many times with his mother, who always felt it important to place fresh flowers on the graves. In fact, he could remember many a time when they had come to this place and talked about God and heaven and angels.

  Isabelle had believed in all those things. She had told him once that she was afraid to go to bed angry, because she always worried her harsh words might be the last she had a chance to utter.

  Ryan had thought about that more than a few times over the years, especially after she had left him without a word of explanation. How could she make sure she didn't go to bed angry, yet leave her two boys without saying good-bye?

  As he walked into the yard, Ryan slowed his pace, reading the headstones with nostalgia. He remembered Mrs. Mclntyre, his first-grade teacher, the one who gave out red jawbreakers on Valentine's Day. He remembered Mr. Woolsley, the janitor at the high school, who helped him clean up the glass from a science experiment gone awry.

  For the first time in a long time, it occurred to Ryan that he had left some friends behind in this town. Only he had been too full of himself and his problems to see that.

  He leaned down and brushed a cigarette butt off Mr. Woolsley's grave. The man had hated cigarettes with a passion, probably because he had to clean up smoke-filled rest rooms at the high school.

  As Ryan straightened, he realized that the rest of the yard was in good condition with neatly trimmed grass and flowers on some of the graves. The birds sang in harmony with the nearby river, bringing a sense of peace to this spot. But it didn't suit Becky Lee at all.

  Ryan searched the headstones until he found her. Then he dropped down on one knee and looked at her grave.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. He traced the name on the headstone with his finger. Becky Lee Woodrich Hunter.

  She had married his brother.

  Ryan squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to remember, didn't want to care again. All these years he had thought Becky Lee and Andrew were married and happy, raising their son. And all these years she was gone. Andrew must have been devastated. And the boy, Billy, growing up without a mother. Ryan knew firsthand how hard that could be.

  "Damn you, Becky Lee. Your timing never was right," he muttered as he opened his eyes.

  Ryan thought back to those last few weeks before he had left town. He had graduated from the nearby college with a bachelor's degree in journalism and an intense desire to get on with his life someplace far away from Serenity Springs. Becky Lee had wanted to go with him. She had wanted to get married. He had put her off,
needing to be on his own for a while. She had paid him back by marrying Andrew. Ryan had left before the wedding.

  Ryan got to his feet and took several deep breaths, forcing the emotion out of his body. Becky Lee had died a long time ago. And he hadn't really thought of her in years. It was this town, this damned town. He hadn't even driven down Main Street, and he already felt bad. What the hell was he doing here?

  It was too late to turn back. Will knew he was here, and by now probably everyone else did, too.

  Ryan left the graveyard and walked to the front of the church. His parents had married in the small chapel. And marriages in Serenity Springs were supposed to last forever. But not his parents' marriage. And not Andrew's marriage.

  "God," he said aloud in frustration, anger, and sadness.

  "He's right inside if you want to speak to him," a voice said from behind him.

  Ryan turned around and stared into the face of a short gray-haired man wearing the traditional black collar of a Catholic priest. The man smiled at him, his blue eyes filled with a wiseness that came either from his faith or his age. Ryan wasn't sure which.

  "Excuse me?" Ryan asked.

  "God. I heard you call his name."

  "Oh." Ryan tipped his head apologetically. "I -- uh, I just, well, you know."

  "It's nice to see you again, Ryan."

  Ryan's eyes widened. "You know me?"

  "I'm Father Miles. Jonathan Miles."

  Ryan gave him a closer look, the familiarity of his name ringing a distant bell. "Father Miles, of course. I remember. You heard my first confession."

  "That's when I got my first gray hair."

  Ryan reluctantly smiled. "It got worse after that."

  "Maybe you should have come back." He waved his hand toward the front door. "Would you like to come inside?"

  Ryan immediately shook his head. He never went into a church unless there was a purpose, like a wedding he had to photograph or a funeral or a coronation. He never went in to pray. He didn't have a clue how to do that. Besides, he didn't hold much faith in prayers. A long, long time ago he had prayed every night before bed, squeezed his eyes shut, clasped his hands together, and tried so hard to make God hear him. But there had never been an answer, not even a whisper of one, just silence, just the sound of the river mocking him.

  "Ryan?"

  "What?" He turned his attention to the priest.

  "I'm glad you've come home."

  "Not home -- just back." Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets. "Maybe it's not a good idea after all."

  "Second thoughts?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  "Afraid of what you will find, or what you won't find?"

  "Both."

  "I always liked you, Ryan."

  Ryan sent him a skeptical look. "I distinctly remember having to say something like one hundred and fifty Hail Mary's after my first confession, and I was only nine at the time."

  "You had some catching up to do. And penance is good for the soul. I always wondered what made you so angry. Is the anger finally gone? Is that why you've come home?"

  Ryan thought about his question for a long time. He didn't think of himself as angry, but something certainly drove him to the farthest corners of the world. "I came back to say good-bye."

  "But you just got here."

  "I never looked back when I left before. I guess there's a part of me that wants to take one last look."

  "That's a start." Father Miles patted Ryan's shoulder and walked into the church.

  "A start to what?" Ryan muttered. He wasn't starting anything. Not here. Not now. Not in this town.

  The church door opened again, and Father Miles hurried out with a large wicker basket in his hand. "I'm glad I caught you. Could you give this to Kara Delaney for me? She'll know what to do."

  "What is it? Food or something?"

  Father Miles pulled back the blanket, revealing three puppies waking up from a nap. They were starting to stretch and blink their eyes open.

  Ryan took a step backward in dismay. "Uh, Father, I'm not very good with animals."

  "They're not for you. They're for Kara. She told me she wanted a big family. You're staying at the Gatehouse, aren't you?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you can save me a trip. They're orphans, poor things. Their mama died, and their owner -- well, she's an older woman and she just can't handle them. They're small now, but they're golden retrievers."

  "Oh, my."

  "Yes, indeed." Father Miles smiled as he handed the basket to Ryan. "Go on, take them."

  Ryan reluctantly took the basket. One of the puppies tried to scramble over the side, and he pushed it down with his other hand. Almost immediately the other two puppies tumbled into one another.

  "Better get them in the car fast," Father Miles advised.

  "Oh, Jes --," Ryan stopped himself as he tried to maintain control of the basket and the puppies. "I don't know how to take care of puppies or anything for that matter. Just myself, you know. I just take care of myself."

  Father Miles nodded as he opened the door to Ryan's car. "They can't take care of themselves, Ryan. They need you. And Kara, of course."