“SURPRISE,” ZOE SANG out after she’d unlocked the front door of a downtown building just a few days later. Leo, nestled on her hip, chattered in a language only he understood. She juggled their son and diaper bag with practiced ease while she flicked on light switches after leading her husband inside.
Mitch moved slowly. Curiously glanced around.
Today, he’d met her at the old photography studio on Main Street dressed in a navy polo shirt and a pair of jeans, most notably without the cane. Was he finally on the mend? It was all Zoe could do not to ask. With reason. He’d been much too quiet the last time he’d stopped by the house to visit Leo. She wasn’t sure if he was preoccupied or having trouble with his therapy. She ought to be thrilled by the lack of a cane, but the stronger he became, the less sure she was about their future. Either way, she couldn’t miss the back-off vibes radiating from him whenever he sensed she was going to question him.
“It’s a portrait studio.” Zoe stated the obvious after trying to control her nervousness.
“I can see that.” He tucked his sunglasses into the neck of his shirt and walked to an area set up with a backdrop screen and a stool placed on a large square of carpet. Lighting equipment lined a wall. A large reflective umbrella took up another corner. “Why are we here?”
“Mr. Haynes is retiring.”
The only in-town photographer, the older man was eighty if he was a day. While his mind was still sharp, his body had slowed. His retirement had given Zoe a perfect opportunity to help get Mitch back on his feet.
“That’s nice for him but doesn’t explain the field trip.”
Zoe bit her lower lip. Oh, boy. This was going to be tricky. She really should have planned this better, but when she’d come up with the idea while driving home from the fund-raiser, it had seemed solid.
“You worked here a couple of summers when we were growing up.”
“Sure. It was a great experience.” His voice carried over his shoulder as he checked out the equipment.
She took a breath. Hugged Leo closer. He let out a squeak and she loosened her hold. “I talked to him about the possibility of you taking over.”
“Taking over what?”
“His business.”
Mitch turned on his heel to face her, shock etched on his face. “You did what?”
“You seemed to be making progress by taking pictures at the beach, then at the fund-raiser. Why not take it a step further and run this place?”
“Because I’m not a portrait photographer.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand. You take pictures of people everywhere you go.”
The shock slowly turned to irritation. His tone, when he finally spoke, was exasperated. “Yes, to tell a story. That’s what a photojournalist does.”
“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m in the first grade.”
“And you know the difference between working in a studio and out in the field.”
Leo squirmed, picking up on the tension. Zoe lowered him to the floor, using the break in the conversation to come up with another tactic. Her son plopped on his bottom, then grabbed her pant leg to lug himself up, eager to explore the brand new world around him.
“You’re right. I do know the difference.” Zoe set the diaper bag on the floor beside her. Smoothed the flowing shirt she’d thought was pretty and feminine, and wondered why she’d bothered. By the glare aimed at her, he wasn’t going to notice her carefully selected outfit. “To be honest, I always felt candid shots were your strong point. No matter the backdrop.”
He moved around the room, his steps purposeful, yet stilted. Had he been too hasty in giving up the cane?
“You could set your own hours,” she went on. “And you don’t always have to be closed up inside. Mr. Haynes also did weddings, outdoor graduation shots, birthday parties. With a little creativity, you could carve out a niche for yourself.”
“If I wanted to stay in Cypress Pointe, you mean?”
She’d come prepared for this argument. “You said yourself you can’t predict the outcome concerning your health. How it will impact your career. If you take over the studio, it gives you time to get well. No need to rush into your next step. And as an added bonus, you’ll be able to spend time with Leo.”
At the mention of his name, Leo looked up from a small basket of animals Zoe assumed Mr. Haynes used to distract his younger subjects. Leo garbled a few words, then went back to work, tossing anything of little interest onto the linoleum floor around him.
Mitch circled the room before stopping to stare out the large front window with Haynes Photo Studio emblazoned across the glass in gold leaf. Though he stood perfectly still, he lifted a hand to rub his temple. Swayed momentarily.
“Mitch?”
Squaring his shoulders, he turned. “You should have talked to me about this, Zoe.”
“I am. Now.”
“And I suppose Mr. Haynes is waiting for an answer?”
“Well, um, I kind of implied you’d be interested.”
His eyes went wide. “Why would you do that?”
“To help you.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not one of your charity projects, Zoe. I can make my own decisions.”
“I know. But when I talked to Mr. Haynes he was getting ready to put the business up for sale. I wanted you to get first dibs.”
“Again, you should have asked if I’m even interested.”
“It’s not like you have other plans.”
“That you’re aware of,” he said, voice tight.
Her confidence slipped. “You have other plans?”
“What does it matter if I do? You never asked.” He shook his head. “The only thing we seem to have in common right now is our son.”
“Who needs his father in his life.” She hesitated to take a step toward him. “I know things were difficult when you left. But, Mitch, we thought you were dead.” Her voice caught. She looked down at her son, carrying on a conversation with a stuffed dog. “I thought Leo would grow up without knowing you. That the only way he’d learn about his dad was through family stories and seeing your work when he grew up. But you’re here. That changes everything.”
Okay, this wasn’t going well. She hadn’t been one hundred percent certain that Mitch would be on board, but she’d hoped for a little less friction at the idea. Time to bring in the big guns.
She lifted Leo and set him on the stool, steadying him with her hands braced at his waist. He glanced around the room from his new vantage point, sending his father a gummy grin as he bounced in place.
“Don’t you think kids make the perfect subject? Think about the families who come in here, wanting a lasting memory. You can give it to them.”
“I memorialize people whose pictures I take for a story.”
“But you don’t know them. You don’t have a personal connection.”
“Really? You know this because you’ve always been so tuned in to what I do?”
She frowned. “What do you mean? You’ve always wanted to take pictures.”
“Maybe you aren’t the only one who thought their work could make a difference.”
“When did… I never…”
“That’s right. You never asked. You always just assumed you were the only one in this relationship to do any good deeds.”
Her chin rose. “Don’t put this on me. You couldn’t wait to get out of town and take pictures of the world.”
“Yes. But somewhere along the way, it became about more.”
She blinked. When had this happened? Had she been wrapped up in her causes, in her perceived hurt, that she’d missed this? Or had she ignored it so she could use the disappointment of not being able to have a baby to keep him at arm’s length? Is that what he’d meant when he’d said she wasn’t the only altruistic one in the family?
Leo started to babble, holding his arms out to Mitch. Taking a few steps to close the gap, Mitch gripped his son’s small hand in his. Leo filled in the silence between them, his very presence the last conduit linking them.
“You’re not playing fair, Zoe, using Leo to make your pitch.”
“Why shouldn’t I? Your decisions affect Leo as much as they do me.”
“Does this big idea mean you want us to get back together? If I stay in town, we’ll work on our marriage?”
After that kiss the other night, that’s all she’d been able to think about. Them, together. It felt comfortable. But was it right if the core problems between them still existed?
“This is a good way to find out where we stand,” she hedged.
“I get it. If I take over the studio and stay in Cypress Pointe, then our marriage might be saved. But what if I decide to travel? Pick up where I left off? Just because you don’t want to leave town doesn’t mean I have to stay.”
She bit her lip again. “I simply want to give our family a fighting chance.”
“No. You want to make sure I remain in Cypress Pointe. I understand that you like to get things done. Be in control. But I have to say, I really don’t like this side of you, Zoe.”
He bent over Leo, kissed him on the top of his head and met her gaze over their son.
Shame. That’s what she felt. Were his words true? Was she really such a bad person to want her family in one place? All the years of taking care of her mother when she was younger, the day-to-day uncertainty of life, had left its mark on her. The fears after the bank robbery had stymied her. She wanted—no, needed—to take care of every situation, because she’d always been the only one she could count on. She’d discovered if she took a problem by the horns, she could figure out a way to solve it. But had she stepped over the line with Mitch today? Forever? She didn’t know anymore.
“You need to decide what you really want,” he said, giving Leo another kiss before leaving the building.
* * *
MITCH MADE IT as far as a wooden bench a block away from the studio before the dizziness leveled him. Clutching the back, he eased his way around the bench and sank down. His head pounded. Closing his eyes usually gave him solace, except today when it made the swirling worse. His stomach rebelled and the steadying breaths his therapist suggested he use during times of extreme stress didn’t help. He silently prayed he didn’t throw up on the spot.
“You doin’ okay there, son?”
Mitch gently moved his head upward. Bob Gardener, the town police chief, stood before him, blocking out the stabbing rays of the late morning sun.
“Forgot my sunglasses,” he said in way of explanation.
“They’re right there in your shirt,” the chief pointed out.
Right. He yanked them from the collar and slipped them over his nose.
“That sunshine can be a real pain,” the chief said.
Literally, in his case.
“Need me to get you anything? Water? A ride home? An ear?”
Mitch frowned. “I have a therapist, thank you.”
The chief chuckled. “Yeah, but that therapist hasn’t known you as long as I have.”
Right now, all Mitch wanted was to sit on Wyatt’s back porch—away from the stress and obligations of life that tended to make him irritable when things got out of hand, or made him physically sick.
Bob lowered himself onto the bench beside Mitch. “Listenin’ comes with the job.”
“Is that what you call it?”
The chief chuckled again.
“Sorry.”
“Been around guys sufferin’ from head injuries. No offense taken.”
Mitch chanced a look. When his stomach didn’t revolt, he began to calm down. “Where have you been around men with brain injuries?”
“At the VFW. Lots of stories about guys coming back home after combat, tryin’ to get on with life. You aren’t alone.”
“Those guys were injured in the military.”
Bob shrugged. “Don’t matter where it happened. Same struggles.”
“What are you saying?”
“One day at a time.”
“Which would be easy if I knew what to expect on any given day.”
Down the street, a car revved its motor, pulled onto Main and promptly slowed when the driver got a glimpse of the chief.
Bob nodded his head in Mitch’s direction. “No cane?”
“I’m trying to depend on it less.”
“Leg stronger?”
“Yes, but the cane’s for balance. Still having trouble in that area.”
“Along with your wife?”
Mitch narrowed his eyes. “What are you up to?”
“Lookin’ out for you at a friend’s request.”
Anger surged through him. “You can tell Zoe to stop managing me.”
“Not Zoe.”
“Then who?”
“Samantha.”
Zoe’s mom? He frowned. “I didn’t realize she was concerned enough to get local law enforcement involved.”
“She knows you’re prickly about talkin’ things through. Thought another man might be easier to confide in.”
“Is everybody in town privy to my private business?”
“Just family, far as I know.”
Great. It was bad enough Zoe was trying to guilt him into sticking around. Before he knew it, his father would drop by one day and want to “talk about their feelings.” He shuddered at the thought.
“No pressure. You know where I am.”
“At Samantha’s?” Mitch asked with a sudden glimmer of insight.
Bob cleared his throat.
“I thought she was acting weird. I noticed her talking on the phone when I visited Leo, giggling like a teen.”
“Giggling?” the chief asked with interest.
Now it was Mitch’s turn to chuckle. “How long?”
“About six months.”
His brow rose. “I take it Zoe doesn’t know?”
“Her mother would like to keep us a secret right now.”
“Why?”
“Not real sure. I’d announce it to the entire town if I had my way.”
The only thing Mitch knew about the chief’s personal life was that he’d been a widower for a very long time. And Samantha had never been serious about a man, at least in the time Mitch had known her. In an odd way, he could see them as a couple.
“Good luck breaking the news to Zoe,” Mitch said.
“You’d think the girl would be happy for her mother.”
“They have…issues.”
“And Zoe’s technically my boss.”
A reluctant grin tugged at the corner of Mitch’s lips. “Funny how life turns out.”
A scratchy squawk came from the lapel mic on the chief’s collar. “Duty calls.” He stood. “It don’t really matter who asked. I’m here for you if you need anything, Mitch.”
“I appreciate it.”
The chief nodded, pressed a button to speak into the mic as he strode away.
The conversation with the chief had at least taken his mind off his physical limitations. His head only mildly ached and the dizziness had subsided. Now would be a good time to head back to Wyatt’s.
With his destination in mind, Mitch rose. A car blew by, swerving to miss a pedestrian crossing the road. The movement caught Mitch’s eye and suddenly he was thrust back to the day of the accident.
He closed his eyes, feeling the sense of fear and urgency. Wishing he’d called Zoe before leaving the camp to let her know he wanted to compromise—that he would cut back on his schedule to be home more, that this would be his last overseas trip for a while until they worked things out.
Whoa. Mitch opened his eyes and staggered. That trip had been his last?
Closing his eyes again, he pushed the limits of his memory.
The truck behind him drew closer, no matter that Mitch was standing on the gas pedal. He had a death grip on the steering wheel as they lurched over a rocky road. Voices cried out from the bed of the truck, urging him to go faster.
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
“They’re gaining,” came a shout.
A gunshot rang out, shattering the rearview mirror on the driver’s side. Mitch ducked instinctively. Glanced back in the mirror. “Everyone okay?”
“Keep driving!”
Another shot sounded. Then another. The third striking the tire. Mitch lost control of the truck, first fishtailing, then picking up momentum on a downward incline.
“Hold on,” he yelled.
The steering wheel jerked, throwing Mitch off balance. Another shot. The truck hit something hard, went airborne for a long, terrible moment before crashing to the ground. Mitch tried to correct the wheel, but suddenly the truck leaned and flipped before landing on the roof, sliding to a stop.
Mitch shook his head. The sound of steam escaping the engine sputtered, then went silent. The radiator must have blown, evidenced by the pungent smell invading the cab. In the distance, a car door slammed. Low voices carried.
Mitch tried to move, pinned in place. A sickly metallic taste coated his tongue. His head pounded and when he looked down, he saw blood spattered about him. Groaning, he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
“Mitch,” a shaky voice called from behind him.
“I can’t move.”
“I’ll be—”
The sentence abruptly stopped.
“Jack! Answer me.”
A shadow loomed beside Mitch and a blurry face filled his vision. “Jack can’t talk right now.”
Then a massive blow to the head and everything went dark.
Mitch’s eyes flew open and he gasped for air.
Someone had deliberately caused the accident. Shot at him. But who? Why?
Rattled, he lowered himself back down to the bench. He’d wanted to remember, but now the memories caused more questions. Who else had been with him? What had been their fate?
He froze.
Jack.
He remembered. Jack Parsons. Had he worked with another refugee aid group? Mitch had met up with him when he’d offered to help find Hassan’s father—the reason they’d ventured away from the larger camp to begin with.
A car horn honked, startling Mitch from his revelation. He had a name to go with the face now. Tangible information as he pieced together that day. As soon as he got back to Wyatt’s place, he would start his search.
With his mind only on his mission, he nearly careened into a man standing a few feet from the bench.
“Sorry. I’m in…”
The words died on his lips. His father, deep lines in his pale face, eyes sunken, stared back at him.
“Mitch.”
“How… What are you doing here?”
“I was running an errand for your mother. I noticed you on the bench.”
His wits returned to him. “And decided to walk by?”
“No. I was trying to think of a way to approach you.”
“You’re my father. Do you need a reason?”
“You haven’t returned my calls.”
Uncomfortable now, Mitch wanted to run, but his father’s expression stopped him. And then he recognized the brightness shimmering in his gruff father’s eyes.
“Dad?”
“My son is alive,” Todd Simmons whispered. “I never thought I’d get a chance to talk to you again.”
Great. Another lecture on the horizon? Mitch wasn’t inclined to defend his life or his decisions to his father right now. Not when the puzzle pieces were falling into place.
“Your mother has encouraged me to come visit you.”
“Yet, I haven’t seen you.”
The older man swiped at his eyes. Color returned to his cheeks. The man who had always seemed so much bigger than life looked beat-up and weary.
“We have a lot to catch up on.”
“Really? Because I only recall you wanting to run my life. And when that didn’t work, putting me down.”
His father looked away. Swallowed before returning his gaze. “I was wrong. It took losing you to make me see how wrong I’d been.”
Doubt coursed through him. His dying had gotten his father to see that all his hard-nosed ways hadn’t worked? Convenient, mocked Mitch’s inner cynic.
“Dad, I have to get moving.”
“Oh, right.” Uncertainty, an emotion he’d never associated with his father, dimmed the older man’s eyes. “We’ll catch up later.”
Indecision clawed at him. Why? Was it that hard to believe his father might have been affected by Mitch’s accident? After all, he thought he’d lost a son. Could it be that complicated, yet at the same time, so simple?
He saw the hope written on his father’s face. It was like looking in a mirror. Didn’t he want to prove much the same to Zoe? That he had changed?
“Ah, yeah, we will.”
His father smiled. “Thank you, son.”
Confused and feeling awkward, Mitch quickened his stride as he hurried down the sidewalk. Since the accident, he’d felt like he was residing in an alternate universe: He’d never thought he would come back home to his life; never thought he would have a son; could try to make things right with his wife; never, ever, thought he would have a decent conversation with his father. Yet in the span of a month, all these things had taken place.
Had the accident been fate compelling him to take a hard long look at his life?
The headache that had eased returned, but Mitch powered through it. He had too much to do. Wouldn’t let the pain keep him from his task. Not if it meant getting to the bottom of the mystery that had hounded him since the day he’d woken up in a hospital bed weak, broken and lacking memories of how he had gotten there.
By the time he reached Wyatt’s house, he’d come to two conclusions.
One, he’d walked to town and back without any incidents. No falling. No stumbling. Yeah, he was dizzy, but he could function.
And two, maybe the studio job was just what he needed. Work had always cleared his mind and he had a lot of decisions to consider. He didn’t want to get Zoe’s hopes up that he would totally walk away from photojournalism to be a portrait photographer. He wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted to do long term. For now, it would keep him busy. Give him purpose each day and help him sort out the memories, which he was visualizing in more clarity each time he remembered.
He needed to figure out who had shot at him and why. There was more at stake than he’d initially considered. The chance to win his wife back and prove he was a man worthy of Zoe’s trust. Watch his son grow up. Protect them both from danger.
He wouldn’t let anyone take that away from him.