Chapter Twelve

Scott

She kissed me. And it’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about for the last twelve hours. Even as Doctor Douglas delivered the news that my father’s conditioned has improved—ever so slightly—I found myself gently rubbing the spot on my cheek where her hand touched me. She was impaired, of course, and it’s not likely she’ll even remember that it happened. But I’ll remember. I’ll remember the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the way her long lashes are an exact match for the auburn in her hair. Oh, yeah, this is one memory I’m gonna hang onto for a long time.

I sigh and, not for the first time in my life, wish things were different. If only she weren’t my brother’s ex-wife—not that it would matter to anyone but Win; it just adds another layer of crazy to an already complicated situation. If only her heart hadn’t been so badly broken…Kiss aside, she’s terrified of letting another man into her life. Into her heart. She told me as much last night. And who could blame her?

There’s no denying I’m attracted to Jameson. Her personality, her intelligence. And I’d be lying if I didn’t include her smokin’ hot looks. What’s not to love? But I know myself well enough to know I’ll never commit. And, even if I do, I’ll never honor that commitment. Because, as my brother says, I’m a runner. And I could never risk hurting Jameson…So that’s that.

If only.

Before I can give this any further thought, the door to the hospital room opens and Father Romance steps in. We may not have been a Catholic family while I was growing up, but everyone in Mayhem knows—and loves—Father Grigory Romanski. AKA Father Romance.

“Scotty, my boy, so good to see you!” he booms. When I extend a hand to shake, he grabs it and pulls me into a hearty embrace.

“Thank you, Father,” I manage to squeak out through my oxygen-deprived lungs. “You too…”

“I’m looking forward to hearing all about your adventures with Project Peace, but first things first. I hear your father has had some improvement.”

“Very minor, Father.”

“Still, Rome wasn’t built in a day,” he quips. “No reason not to have faith.”

“True,” I reply, gesturing to a plastic yellow chair.

He takes it and leans forward toward me, placing his forearms on his knees as he does so.

“I understand there was a bit of an incident yesterday,” he says quietly.

“How could you possibly know that?” I ask, dumbfounded.

The good father shrugs and glances upward toward the ceiling. “I have my sources, Scott.”

He can’t possibly mean… Can he? I give him my most respectable “you’re full of it” expression. “Father, are you trying to tell me that God Himself told you? How does that work exactly? A dream? A vision?”

“What?” He looks at me, his dark brows pulled together in confusion. Then all at once he sits up, slaps his knee, and throws his head back in deep laughter. “No! No, Scott, I didn’t mean it came from that far up! I was talking about the fourth floor nurses’ station. Those ladies do love to gossip!”

I join him in the laughter but then stop myself with a nervous glance at my father, lying unconscious in the bed beside us. Father Romance catches my look and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s okay to joke around. You know how much your father appreciates a good laugh,” he reminds me. “Besides, I think it can only do him good to hear you—your voice. Your laugh.”

“You think?” I ask, genuinely interested in his answer. “It’s been so long…do you think he’d remember what I sound like?”

The kindly priest smiles at me. “Scott, this man was there the day you came into this world. Trust me when I tell you that, from that moment on—from the instant he first heard you cry—the sound of your voice was etched in his memory for all of eternity.”

I start to make a comment but stop myself.

“Something else troubling you?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, no. I’m just…this is just a lot, you know?”

His turn to nod. “I do.”

“Father, have your ‘sources’ ever filled you in on why I left home?”

I’m not sure where the courage to ask the question comes from, but there it is before my filter can catch it. Father Romance looks at me for a long moment before answering.

“No one has ever told me, Scott. And, even if someone had, I’d never presume to give credence to something of that magnitude unless it came directly from you. Of course, I’ve always known of your love for exploration and foreign lands. But I also know that Project Peace was a convenient route to escape whatever demons were haunting you at the time.”

“Well, I appreciate that, Father Romance. There’s just so much that we left unsaid… And now, if something happens to him…” My voice peters out before I can complete the thought. Not that I have to. He gets it.

“What I can tell you for sure—and this is based on a lifetime of experience, including my own—is that a lot goes unsaid between fathers and sons. And that can make for some tragic misunderstandings. I’ve always suspected something like that happened between you and Big Win. But don’t you worry about that now, Scott. Because you’re here, home, where you belong. And I have every faith that you’ll have time to work through all of it with your father.”

I’m not so certain about that, but I don’t debate the point.

“Tell me,” he begins before I have time to formulate a comment on his last statement. “What are your plans for this evening?”

Well, I certainly didn’t see that one coming. Is Father Romance asking me out on a date? Is this what they call a “bromance?”

“Uh…nothing, really,” I reply, tearing myself away from my crazy thoughts. “I guess I’ll maybe get a quick bite out and come back here…”

“No, no, no. Your father wouldn’t want you fussing over him for hours on end. I have a much better idea.”

I’m immediately on guard. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Well, tonight’s the final round of the pub quiz at O’Halloran’s. We never did get to it the other night what with Bailey’s crowning and all—so we postponed till this evening. Only, one of the teams is short a player. I was hoping you’d come join in. It’d be a good distraction for you, I think, and I’ll even buy you a pint,” he offers with an inviting grin.

“Oh, I don’t know if that’d be appropriate… Not with my father in this condition.”

“Of course it’s appropriate,” he insists. “Come at six, and we’ll get you set up with a team.”

“I should really check to see if Jameson needs help or a babysitter or something. With her arm in a cast…”

“Nope. I happen to know that Jackson and Win have a standing Tuesday night date at Sir Cheese-a-lot.”

“They do?” I find it hard to believe my brother would willingly spend an evening among screeching, germy children and a singing mechanical rodent.

“For all his faults, Win’s an exceptional father, Scott,” Father Romance says, reading my mind. “You can be proud of him on that count, at least.”

“But maybe not so much on the brother front,” I mutter, realizing, too late, that I sound like a bratty little kid.

The priest sighs and sits back in his chair, folding his surprisingly muscled arms across his chest.

“Scott, oftentimes people will go to great lengths to protect themselves from the past and, in the process, they end up doing the opposite—they hurt themselves and everyone around them. Now, I don’t know what happened between you and your father or you and Win… I don’t know why you chose to leave home so abruptly and never come back. But you’re here now, son, and I’d encourage you to use this time to face your demons. You don’t want another ten years to go by with this distance between you. Besides, your father may not have that kind of time.”

“I appreciate the advice, Father,” I mumble. And I do. I’m just not ready to hear it—or act on it. I can tell by the expression on his face that he knows what I’m thinking.

“Scott?” he asks me with a seriousness that makes me think he’s about to tell me how to handle all of this.

“Yes?”

“Do you recall the state bird of Minnesota?”

“What?”

“You know, the loon, son. The loon! You’d best be brushing up on your state trivia. There are always at least one or two questions about it that come up during the pub quiz.”

Home is where the loons are. And I’m officially home.