Maddox couldn’t help himself. He drove past Jada’s house on his way home. He’d managed not to go over on that side of town since he’d been back, but now that he knew she was back, too, it was harder.
He saw an old Buick, a car so dated he associated it with her mother, a practical, not overly expensive truck with a wheelchair lift, which had to belong to Atticus, and a newer Chevy Volt parked on the street.
That had to be Jada’s vehicle right there.
At least now he knew what she drove and would be aware that she was close by if he spotted it.
He told himself to get the hell out of there. It was not so late yet that the house was dark. Someone could easily glance out the window and spot him.
But instead of leaving, he stopped completely and idled right in front of the house. Suddenly and inexplicably, he was tempted to go to the door. He wanted to tell them, while they were all there together, that he was sorry for what’d happened to Atticus, and that, although they refused to accept his apology, he was sincere. He also wanted to promise that he wouldn’t bother them ever again, that they had nothing to worry about where he was concerned. He didn’t like the idea of Jada cringing at the prospect of bumping into him or being hesitant to go out for fear she might encounter him. Her family would probably be looking over their shoulders, too, filled with dread as they scoured the area for any glimpse of him—as if he was a leper and might infect them if he came too close.
He hated feeling as though, just by being here, he made someone else that miserable.
He leaned forward so he could see out his passenger window. The drapes were open on the big picture window in front. What would they do if they saw him? Would they come out and yell at him to get away?
He wondered if they’d raise a fuss now that they knew he was in town or try to convince Aiyana that she should hire someone else.
She should hire someone else, he thought. Although he was eager to take charge of New Horizons for Girls, he’d feel lower than dirt if she had to fight the Brooks family and all their friends and sympathizers on his behalf. He couldn’t imagine anyone else would support her if she took up for him, so she could find herself facing a formidable force alone. Very few people in Silver Springs knew him personally. What they did know was that he’d been busted for trying to steal a car when he was sixteen, had to go to a correctional school, where he and his brother had caused serious trouble, so much so that one of their own had been injured for life.
His reputation wasn’t anything that would recommend him...
He waited for several seconds but no one came to the window or walked outside. Had that happened, he would’ve parked and gotten out of his truck, allowed them their chance to scream and rail at him. But knowing how unwelcome he’d be even though he was there to apologize made him decide to give it some time. Perhaps it’d be easier if he approached them after a few weeks had gone by and they had a chance to get used to the idea of his being in town. If nothing happened as a result of his presence, they could possibly develop some trust that he wasn’t going to get in their way.
With a sigh, he gave his truck some gas and, at the end of the street, turned toward his own place, which was situated on a sixteen-acre tangerine orchard toward the end of the ten-mile-long east-west valley that held Silver Springs like a hand cupping a precious sip of water.
As attractive and affluent as downtown Silver Springs was, he liked living out away from the quaint shops and upscale restaurants. He preferred wide-open spaces and being able to smell the rich soil and citrus on the property. Known for its Mediterranean climate, with hot, dry summers and temperate winters, Silver Springs could grow almost anything—and did. Avocados, walnuts, figs, winter and summer vegetables, pears and other fruit were all produced in the area, along with a variety of fresh herbs. There wasn’t a better place to grow fresh fruits and vegetables on the planet.
He loved this part of California, which was why it was so difficult to imagine leaving again, but he’d do it to protect Aiyana from any kind of backlash.
When he pulled down the dirt road that led to his house, his landlord, Uriah Lamb, a crusty old farmer with a salt-and-pepper flattop, came to stand in his doorway and peer out as though he’d been listening for Maddox’s truck. Uriah lived alone in the 1920s house that fronted the road; Maddox lived in a smaller one-bedroom behind, originally built for Uriah’s son, who now lived on the East Coast.
The smell of fresh-cut grass, strong and pervasive, rose to Maddox’s nostrils the second he climbed out. Uriah cut the grass regularly whether it needed it or not. Maddox’s landlord was always up at dawn and in bed by ten. He’d lost his wife of fifty years only eight months ago, so routine was about all he had left. He was estranged from his only son; Maddox wasn’t sure why. He only knew that Uriah had mumbled something about it when he’d first seen the house.
“I’ve got a fresh watermelon,” Uriah called as soon as Maddox drew within earshot. “Would you like to come in and have a slice?”
Eager to head to his own place, Maddox nearly refused. But then he reconsidered. What would it hurt to stop in for a minute? The old guy would be going to bed soon—would probably be in bed now if he hadn’t been waiting for Maddox—so it wasn’t as if he’d expect Maddox to stay long. “Sure. That sounds great.”
Maddox had been inside Uriah’s house before, when he was signing the lease, but he was once again struck by the simplicity of the old guy’s existence. Although everything was dated, it was in good repair. If Uriah wasn’t out working in the orchard fertilizing, pruning, fixing the irrigation system or painting tree trunks to protect against pests, he was adding electrical tape to whatever needed it, painting the fence around his house to protect it from the elements or caulking any nook or cranny that might possibly be subjected to damaging moisture. He could serve as the poster boy for the saying “Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.”
“How’s everything working back there?” Uriah asked as he led Maddox into his kitchen.
Contextual clues made it easy for Maddox to assume “back there” meant the house he was living in. “Great.”
“Shower isn’t leaking again...”
“No, sir. I’d alert you if it was.”
“You’ll have to watch the toilets. The septic tank’s getting pretty full.”
“I’ll do that.”
He put a plate with a gold pattern on the table bearing a thick, round slice of watermelon and provided a fork.
Uriah brought his own slice with him when he came over to sit down across from Maddox. He hesitated for a moment before digging in and his eyes flicked toward the stove. Maddox wondered if he was remembering all the times he must’ve sat in this kitchen with his wife, who was now gone. This was his first summer without her.
After clearing his throat, the old man took a deep breath as if he had to dredge up enough interest to actually eat, now that he’d gotten the watermelon sliced.
“You okay?” Maddox asked.
“Got a heat wave comin’,” he said instead of answering. He might not have heard. He was losing his hearing. But Maddox had the feeling that wasn’t the case this time. He didn’t want to talk about the difficulty of his current situation. “S’pose to be over a hundred this next week.”
“No kidding?” Maddox said. “In June? That’s high, isn’t it? I read somewhere the average is eighty-three.”
“We’ve hit as high as a hundred and ten before. That’s the record. Heard it on the news just this morning.” He forked up another bite. “But yeah, one hundred’s hot, ’specially for June.”
“How long have you lived in the area?”
“Since I married Shirley.”
This proved he was thinking about her; he could’ve used a different benchmark.
“Course, I’ve downsized a lot since then,” he added. “Used to own three hundred acres.”
“When did you sell the rest?”
He waved his fork. “Oh, over the years. Broke off chunks here and there before I put in the trees.”
“What were you planting back then?”
“Tomatoes, mostly.”
“You like pixie tangerines better?”
“They’re easier. You’ll work your fingers to the bone growing tomatoes. I’m too old for that now.”
“You seem to be getting around okay.” Maddox offered him an encouraging smile.
“I’m moving a lot slower than I used to.”
Maddox barely knew Uriah. He wasn’t sure what he was doing sitting in his landlord’s house at nearly ten o’clock on a warm summer evening, but the way the old guy had used fresh watermelon to entice him to come in told Maddox he was tired of being alone. He was probably alone too much. “Where, exactly, does your son live?”
His craggy eyebrows came together but he answered readily enough. “Silver Spring, Maryland.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. That’s something, ain’t it?”
“I didn’t realize there was another Silver Springs.”
“It’s clear across the country and without the s, but...still quite a coincidence.”
“What does he do there?”
A far-off look settled over his face.
“Mr. Lamb?”
He started eating again but mechanically—raising his fork, putting the food in his mouth, lowering it. “I’m not certain, to be honest with you.”
Maddox scrambled for something to say in response. “When’s the last time you talked to him?”
“It’s been about five years.”
What could possibly have come between them? Maddox was curious, but he wasn’t about to ask. He was pretty certain he’d been invited in to make the night easier to get through, not harder. “It’s amazing the way you handle this place all on your own.”
“Requires constant effort,” he said. “So how’s that job of yours at New Horizons?”
“Great. The school won’t open until mid-August, so we’re just getting the curriculum ready, choosing textbooks, staffing, that sort of thing.”
“You told me you were born in LA. Is that where your folks live?”
“My mother.”
He looked up. “And your father?”
“My mother says he was born in Seattle. She thinks he might’ve gone back there when he left us.”
The old guy stopped chewing. “How old were you when that happened?”
“Four. My brother was three.”
“Do you have much contact with your father?”
Maddox felt nothing but contempt for the man who’d left his mother alone with two children and no support, financial or otherwise. Even if his father reached out, he’d tell him to go to hell. It was about twenty years too late for a relationship. “None. He didn’t leave a forwarding address. Wasn’t too keen on the idea of child support, I guess.”
“That ain’t right.”
“I survived.” His life could’ve been a lot easier, though. He often wondered if his mother would’ve been a better mother if only she’d had someone to help her.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Uriah said, “Where’s your brother these days?”
Maddox hadn’t mentioned that he had a history in Silver Springs when he’d answered the ad that brought him to this small orchard. He hadn’t wanted to damage his chances of getting the house, in case Uriah happened to know the Brooks family. He’d figured, if Uriah didn’t remember his name from having read it in the paper or hearing it on the lips of all the shocked Silver Springs residents at the time, that was on him. But now that Uriah was asking a direct question, Maddox decided to be up front, partly because the Brookses already knew he was back, so it didn’t matter if Uriah told them, and partly because he refused to act in any way that could be construed as being ashamed of his family. “He’s in prison.”
The old man’s hand froze halfway to his mouth. “For what?”
“For shooting Atticus Brooks.”
“Ah.” He nodded slowly. “Thought I’d heard your name somewhere before. Couldn’t place it.”
“Then you know the Brookses...”
“Not well. I know Susan owns the cookie shop in town. My wife used to stop in and buy a dozen every now and then. Sometimes she’d take in a bag of tangerines. She felt bad for Susan’s boy, for what happened.”
So did Maddox. That was the thing. He wished he could have that night to live over again. He’d stop that whole chain of events. “Now that you know it was my brother who was responsible for putting Atticus in that wheelchair, do you regret renting to me?”
Finished eating, he stood up to dispose of the rind.
Maddox watched him rinse his plate. “Mr. Lamb?”
“Did you have anything to do with it?” he asked above the sound of the water rushing through the tap.
“I was there that night, at the same party,” Maddox replied. “But no.”
He came over to get Maddox’s plate. “Then I don’t regret renting to you.”
“When were you going to tell me Maddox Richardson is back in town?”
It was nearly two weeks later, on a Friday night at midnight, when her mother opened the door to Jada’s bedroom and hit her with that question—spoken low so that Maya and Atticus wouldn’t overhear from their own bedrooms on the other side of the house. Jada had spent every single day since she’d learned Maddox was living in Silver Springs checking to make sure the coast was clear wherever she went—watching the foot traffic outside the cookie store, peering cautiously down every aisle before entering it when she went to the grocery store, obliquely glancing at the other drivers when she was on the road or stopping to get gas and, much to the consternation of Tiffany, refusing to go to the bar or any other place she thought single people might hang out. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him, so she’d begun to relax, to think they could live parallel lives that would never intersect beyond that brief sighting of him at the farmers’ market Saturday before last.
This brought all of her cautious optimism to an abrupt halt.
“Jada?”
The accusation in her mother’s voice, as if Jada had invited Maddox back, was upsetting. But this conversation was going to be difficult enough even if she approached it carefully, so she tried to keep the pique out of her own voice. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”
She came in and closed the door behind her. “Because...”
The subtle lines in her mother’s face, around her eyes and mouth, seemed more pronounced today than ever. Jada wanted to feel some sympathy for her. She wasn’t well. But Jada was too defensive to feel anything other than a heavy dose of resentment over the past, and irritation that her mother would approach her this boldly, as if she were still a child. “Because I knew it would upset you, and I didn’t see any reason to do that.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “You didn’t think I had a right to know? He’s Maya’s father, for crying out loud!”
Jada knew what was at stake. “I realize that. But he doesn’t know it and, other than Atticus, neither does anyone else.” Except Tiffany, although Jada wasn’t willing to admit that she’d told her friend. She’d been given strict directions not to tell a soul. Learning that she had would only make her mother angrier. Susan wouldn’t stop to think about how young Jada had been when everything went down and how badly she’d needed someone to confide in who wouldn’t try to tell her what to do. Jada probably wouldn’t have had the guts to stand up to her parents and keep Maya, not while she was feeling so guilty and terrible about Atticus, without Tiffany insisting that it was her life and her decision, and she’d be the one who’d have to live with the regret if she made the wrong choice.
“She looks just like him,” her mother said. “He could easily guess!”
Icy tentacles of fear wrapped ever tighter around Jada’s heart, but her mother always argued for the worst possible scenario. She supposed most mothers did that in an effort to keep their babies safe; she found herself warning Maya about the terrible things that could happen if she didn’t watch out, too. “It’s not as if I can chase him off. I don’t own the area. Neither do you. We don’t get to dictate who lives here and who doesn’t. I’m not sure it was fair of you to do what you did last time.”
“Fair of me?” she cried.
Jada clenched her jaw. “You and Dad. But never mind. Bottom line he has a great job working for New Horizons. He’ll be heading up the girls’ side, so he has good reason for being here.”
“You know quite a bit about what he’s doing.”
Jada couldn’t miss the insinuation. “Just the basics.”
Her mouth tightened. “Then you’ve talked to him.”
“No, I haven’t. Tiffany saw him at the farmers’ market and told me about it. I didn’t know if he was just visiting or what until Aiyana showed up at the store and told me she’d hired him.” She closed her laptop. “Who told you I already knew he was in town?”
“Evangeline, the lady who owns the olive oil and balsamic vinegar shop a few stores down. She saw you talking to Aiyana and assumed you were planning to enroll Maya.”
“Why would I send Maya to a correctional school? She’s a good student.”
“She doesn’t know that. She has a fourteen-year-old daughter who’s giving her nothing but trouble. Purple hair. Piercings everywhere. Cuts herself. Shoplifts. Runs away every few months. Evangeline has been beside herself for the past several years, can’t seem to handle her, so she’s relieved to have New Horizons as an option.”
“She’s going to send her daughter to a boarding school that’s here in town? Doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose?”
“Why would it? Aiyana’s giving her a steal on tuition. She wouldn’t be able to afford it, otherwise. She’s spent every dime she has trying to get her shop going.”
“I’m not sure it’ll have the same effect if her daughter goes as a day student and comes home to the same friends and situation that had her cutting herself to begin with.”
“She’s going to stay there, so it’ll be the same as if she’s miles away. Aiyana doesn’t allow the boarding students to go off campus, not without permission from their parents. And Aiyana is making Evangeline sign a contract that she will come see her every Sunday for two hours, from one to three, but won’t show up any other time or give her permission to leave, except for a death in the family or holidays.”
“It’ll be interesting to see how that works—being so close and yet so far away.” Jada wasn’t being facetious; she was sincere in that comment. She’d heard Aiyana could work miracles, but this sounded like a unique situation.
“Although I wish her the best, what happens with Evangeline’s daughter is really none of our concern. I only brought her up because it was Evangeline who mentioned the new principal. She asked me if I’d met him, says he seems young but capable. I nearly spilled my coffee when she told me his name!”
“I bet.”
“I don’t understand how Aiyana could hire a man with Maddox Richardson’s background.”
“Then you don’t know Aiyana, because that is absolutely something she would do. She doesn’t just give lip service to believing in her students. She fully supports them. Besides, she claims he’s qualified.”
“In what way?” she scoffed.
“He has a master’s.” That was a pretty lofty accomplishment given that Susan had insisted he’d never amount to much. Jada was tempted to throw that in her face, but she bit her tongue.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means he’s qualified for the job!”
“What about his no-good brother?”
“What about him? I doubt much has changed for Tobias, since he’s been in prison all these years.”
“Don’t tell me he’s coming here after he gets out.”
“Aiyana claims he’s not, but I have no idea if that will change. I didn’t know Maddox was coming back.”
She wrung her hands. “I can’t imagine how Atticus will react when he hears about this.”
“I’m guessing he’ll take his lead from you. If you act as though it’s no big deal, maybe he will, too.”
“No big deal?” She gaped at Jada as though she’d lost her mind. “Maddox Richardson got you pregnant before you were even out of high school, which changed the entire course of your life! You have no education as a result! And because of him and that evil brother of his, your own brother will be in a wheelchair until the day he dies!”
“Sex takes two.” Jada couldn’t defend Maddox when it came to what’d happened to Atticus, but she wasn’t about to let her mother blame him for Maya. Jada had wanted to make love to Maddox every bit as badly as he’d wanted to make love to her. They could hardly keep their hands off each other. As a matter of fact, she’d never had better sex. There were plenty of times, even while she was married, that she’d lain awake, thinking about how incredibly erotic and all-consuming those encounters had been, and wondering if she’d ever experience the same depth of feeling.
“I haven’t forgotten your part in it,” her mother snapped and stalked out of the room.