sixteen
Luke had been driving for over two hours without a destination in mind, just following the highways that hugged the edge of Lake Michigan. The lush green foliage whipped by in a blur as his stomach rumbled in protest to his missed lunch. Was it really four o’clock already? He’d passed South Haven a few minutes back. There had to be beach access around here somewhere. The sign for Van Buren State Park grew closer. That’d do.
Luke pulled off the exit and made his way to a parking lot that overlooked the beach. Lifting the lid of the cooler, he found the sandwich he’d made. Wasn’t much. He’d have to grocery shop soon.
He grabbed a Coke, slid out of the truck, and kicked off his tennis shoes. The warm, soft sand slid between his toes as he made his way down the beach. A cool breeze blew over the lake, which was absent of swimmers. The water was no doubt still at skin-numbing temperatures.
He plopped down about twenty feet back from the waves and started in on his sandwich. His appetite was lacking, but his growling stomach demanded attention.
A dog’s barking stole a bit more of his appetite. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t have loved to bring Spitz, but since he didn’t even know where he was staying, it didn’t really make sense to bring the dog. And Spitz was technically Hannah’s, with her name on the paperwork.
A black Lab ran to catch a Frisbee that landed a few feet from Luke. He covered the top of his Coke just before the dog arrived, paws kicking sand everywhere.
“Barney, no!” a feminine voice shouted.
Luke glanced up at the blonde running toward him. Her long legs and flat stomach held a tan that couldn’t have been acquired in the sun this early in the season. He looked back at the dog, which stood staring at the sand-covered sandwich. Might as well give it to him now. Luke tossed it toward the dog and he caught it in the air.
“Bad dog, Barney.” The blonde knelt down, scratching the dog’s ears. She slid a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I’m really sorry about that.”
“It’s all right. I have a dog, or did have one. I guess it’s my girlfriend’s—ex-girlfriend’s—now. Anyway, no biggie.” He tipped back his Coke for a drink. At least he’d saved that.
“My name is Christina.” She dropped in the sand next to him, stretching out her long tan legs. “You from around here?”
Luke shifted his gaze to the waves licking at the shore and shaded his eyes against the sun. He hadn’t meant the ex-girlfriend comment as an invitation. After all, they’d only broken up, what, two hours ago? “No, I’m from . . . uh . . .” Could he still claim Heritage, or was he now homeless?
“Just passing through?” She dug her toes into the sand and scratched at the dog’s ears.
She was beautiful. There was no denying that fact, but she had one big flaw. She wasn’t Hannah. No matter how angry he was at Hannah right now, she still owned his heart. Who knew how long it would take to get it back, or if he ever could?
Then again, maybe he didn’t want to get over Hannah. He had a lot more thinking to do, and sitting here talking to “Barbie” wasn’t going to help.
“It’s been nice meeting you.” Luke stood, brushed the sand off his shorts, and marched toward his truck. Lord, what do I do?
The file still lay on the floor of the truck where he’d tossed it. He’d been so consumed with Hannah’s betrayal that he’d put the folder out of his mind. Besides, who wanted to read about a criminal father? A father wanted by the Chicago PD. Hardly the heritage he’d always wanted. Nate’s words came back. You’ve been adopted by Christ. You have a new heritage. That was probably easier to say when reality wasn’t sucker punching you in the gut.
Luke grabbed the file from the floor and laid it open across his lap. On top was a black-and-white flyer with a photo of him as a child, a photo of his father, and bold letters asking, “Have you seen me?”
Luke’s stomach lurched as bitter acid filled his mouth. Kidnapped? He couldn’t breathe as sickening pain traveled through his limbs.
He flipped the page to the police report, reading as fast as his eyes could travel across the page. His father had been wanted for kidnapping. Kidnapping him.
Reaching out a trembling hand, he flipped the paper aside. A copy of a family photo stared back. There were four faces. The boy, age two or three, had to be him. Same hair, same dimple, same smile. He looked so happy. A girl, a few years older, sat next to him with blonde pigtails. A sister?
He let out a series of short, unsteady breaths.
The man in the photo wasn’t his father. Or at least not the person he’d called Father. His finger traced the face of the woman. His mother. His breath stopped as he rested his forehead on the steering wheel.
He leaned back and lifted the report again, poring over the details. Ann. His mother’s name was Ann. She was still alive. All the years he’d spent yearning for a mother, she’d been alive all along.
The man he remembered had, in fact, been his own father. But his name wasn’t Joseph Johnson. It was Brian Taylor. He’d kidnapped Luke after a custody dispute. He’d then acquired fake documentation, including the birth certificate listing Sarah Johnson as Luke’s mother, and settled in the small town of Heritage before the fatal accident.
Luke’s head dropped back against the seat as tears burned at the corners of his eyes. Kidnapped. Not orphaned. It took every ounce of strength not to punch his fist into the dashboard. His family had been stolen from him by the one man he’d trusted most.
Flipping another page, he devoured the information, trying to absorb how the world was changing with every word. His mom was still alive and lived in Lynwood, Illinois. Where was that?
He yanked out his phone and typed the address. Not too far from Chicago, and only two hours from where he now sat. His hand tightened on the phone. His mother, his family, two hours away.
His mind traveled back to Hannah. Maybe he had made a mistake in leaving without a word. After all, it was her nosiness that had uncovered all this. Glancing behind him, he threw his truck in Reverse, peeled out of the parking lot, and turned back to the highway.
Two hours south, his family. Two hours north, Hannah.
Hannah’s face flashed in his mind. But did the end justify the means? How could he ever trust her again?
Luke came to the on-ramp and stopped. North to Hannah or south to his family?
He flipped on his blinker and turned south, the choice made. He pulled into traffic and put the pedal to the floor.
Still no luck finding that money and still no luck waiting for Luke. But one of these things was getting settled now, because like it or not, Luke might be the only one who could help. Hannah pulled into the driveway. His truck was gone. No matter, she’d play with Spitz and wait him out.
Hannah slid out of her car and took the porch steps two at a time. She lifted the pot and reached for the hide-a-key. Nothing. That was odd. Cupping her hands around her eyes, she peered through the window. No dog.
“He’s gone.” Thomas’s voice carried from his porch a few yards away.
Hannah stepped to the edge of the railing, the word echoing in her head. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
Thomas turned to his door, glancing back at her before opening it. Spitz nosed his way out, licking Thomas’s hand before sprinting to the grass.
Her throat went dry. “How long does he plan to be gone?”
Thomas shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “He called off work. Didn’t give them a return date.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Hannah marched across the driveway and stood at the bottom of his steps, hands on her hips.
Thomas shrugged. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. He has things he needs to sort out.”
“We can sort them out together.” Hannah withdrew her phone and tapped Luke’s name.
Thomas cast her a glance and sighed. “He won’t answer.”
He’d answer. They needed to talk this out. Her stomach tightened as the phone rang on. Shoving it back in her pocket, she marched up the steps. “Then give me your phone. He’ll answer for you.”
“No. He’s done, Hannah. You can’t fix this.” Thomas whistled for the dog and walked into the house, letting the door shut on her.
Oh yes she could. Hannah stormed after him and slammed the door with more force than she ever had in her life. “Thomas James, give me—”
Her words cut off at the sight of his horror-stricken eyes focused just above her. The plates. Her breath halted as if it could stop time, but it was too late. She covered her face as the shattering of glass pierced the air. Then silence.
Hannah lowered her hands. Shards of blue everywhere. No, no, no. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.
“Don’t move.” Thomas grabbed Spitz and led him away from the glass and out the back door.
Hannah squatted down and picked up two pieces, trying to fit them back together. “Do you have any g-glue?”
“Hannah, stop.”
She reached for another piece, her hands shaking. “It will take time, but if we can find all the pieces . . .”
Thomas stepped toward her, the glass crunching under his shoes. “You can’t fix this.”
Her fingers trembled. “But if I—ahh!” The blue razor edge sliced through the tip of her finger.
He pulled her to her feet, took the pieces out of her hand with slow, gentle movements, and examined the cut as a crimson ribbon appeared. “Wait here.”
He marched to the kitchen, and Janie’s words floated back into her memory. When we hold the broken pieces of our lives too close, they’ll cut us up inside.
Thomas held out a rag and wrapped it around her finger. “You can’t fix Mom’s plates with a little superglue. You can’t fix your relationship with Luke with a phone call.” He stared out the window to the field as he wrapped her in his arms. “And you can’t fix Mom’s leaving by winning this contest.”
Something broke inside her as she sank into her brother’s hug. A sob welled up in her throat and poured out. So much she’d locked away over the years: when her mother left, when Luke had broken her heart in high school, and now her regret for breaking Luke’s trust.
When the tears finally slowed, she eased back from her brother and toed a few pieces of glass. “I’ve ruined everything.”
Thomas gazed around at the shards surrounding them. “It’ll clean up.”
Hannah bent over and, with more care, picked up a piece of glass and examined the sharp edge. Maybe she was holding her past too tightly, but then she wasn’t sure she was ready to let go either. “I want to keep the glass.”
“Why?” Thomas squatted next to her and gathered a few large pieces.
He stared at her as if he’d argue but shook his head and went and found a box. Together they worked in silence to collect any pieces large enough to save, then swept up the rest.
Hannah tucked the box under her arm and stepped out on the porch. “I’m sorry about the plates.”
“I’m not. It’s time for us to stop living with Mom’s and Dad’s mistakes hanging over our heads.”
Hannah set the box of glass down and sank onto the third step. “How did we become so dysfunctional at relationships?”
Thomas sat next to her and rested his elbows on his knees. “Mom abandoned us for a new life, leaving Dad bitter at God. That’s not the best recipe for raising emotionally healthy children. Still, we did all right. I’ve kept Donny’s from going under while Aunt Lucy and Uncle Don are gone, and you’re turning this town around.”
Hannah rubbed her eyes. “Luke lost the photos and I lost the collection money.”
“How much?”
“Just over eighteen hundred dollars in cash.” She wiped under her eyes with her sleeve, turning it black. She must look a mess.
“What did the mayor say?”
“I haven’t told anyone. And with Luke gone, there’s no way I can get the gazebo done in time.” The half-built gazebo in the distance made her heart hurt. “It may be time to throw in the towel. I don’t even know if I care anymore.”
“You can’t be serious.”
She shrugged and cleared her throat. “Kensington is ready to bulldoze Luke’s house. He’ll be after this house next. I don’t even know why I’m trying to stop it. He always gets his way. Did you know the fire was even his idea? Why do you think Wilks had a full report ready to go? How did I not see it?”
“His idea or not, that square is great because of you.”
“The townspeople have helped some, but as soon as they find out I’ve lost their money they’ll turn on me.”
Thomas pulled her to his shoulder. “You’re wrong. People are excited about what you’ve done already—”
“Done already? I burned down the most beautiful building in town.” She pointed to where the Manor had stood.
Thomas offered a soft chuckle. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person in town who saw it that way.”
“But with enough money—”
“I’m sure you’d have made it beautiful again. I mean, just look what you did to the square after the fire. But sometimes we’re meant to fix things and sometimes we have to let go. Like the Manor . . . Like Mom.”
Hannah ran her finger along the well-worn grooves of the wood step. “I’m going before the board on Monday, and I’ll have to admit that I’m no better than Mom.”
Thomas turned her toward him. “Mom stole the money—you lost it. There’s a big difference.”
Hannah wiped at the corners of her eyes. “Different in intentions, but the same on paper.”
“Have you ever stopped and asked God for help in all this?” Thomas stretched his legs out in front of him.
“God? You think He cares about a contest?” She let out a huff.
Thomas leaned back on his elbows. “He cares about you. He cares about what you’re going through.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Maybe God’s the one who gave you a passion to help the town. If so, maybe all you need to do is let Him lead.”
She lifted an eyebrow and studied him. “Since when do you give advice about God?”
“I’ve been going to a Bible study with Pastor Nate. Luke went a few times too before he left.”
Hannah turned and gazed across the fresh green field. Trust God? With the gazebo? With Luke? Sounded like a fairy tale. Life had taught her that if she wanted something done, she had to do it herself. “It all just seems so impossible.”
“The Bible is full of stories of God asking people to do impossible things.” He sat up again, talking with animated hands. “He once asked this weenie dude to destroy a whole army with three hundred men. For Gideon alone it was impossible. But with God, no problem. Nate said that God specializes in using our weakness to show off His strength.”
Hearing her brother talk like this warmed something deep inside her that she’d let grow cold for some time. “Do you trust God to get Janie back?” she asked. Advice and application were two different things.
He drew a deep breath. “Get her back? I’m still not sure that would be best. I’m just praying He’ll show me what to do next. Maybe the next step is all we’re supposed to know.”
A longing rose in her heart. Once upon a time she’d prayed every day and believed God would answer. She really didn’t know when she’d decided to go it on her own. A slow decision over time. “Maybe you’re right.” She stood, picked up the box, and headed to her car.
“What’re you going to do now?” He stood as well, shoved his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the rail.
She opened the car door and slid the box in the back. “I don’t know. Maybe pray. Then again, maybe I should have started praying about all this from the start.”
“It’s never too late.”
She shut the door and leaned her back against it. “You sure?”
“I hope not. For your sake and mine.”
Three days he’d come here and sat, and three days he’d chickened out and returned to his room at the nearby motel. Luke’s confidence evaporated once again as he studied the white two-story house that had been pulled from a storybook. A couple of oak trees shadowed the wide yard and stirred a strange foggy memory, but nothing solid.
He grabbed the file that he’d practically memorized. Pulling out the photo, he stared at the mom for what seemed like the hundredth time. Nothing.
No matter how many times he looked at it, the woman didn’t stir the slightest memory. Not the long blonde hair, not the warm blue eyes, not even the dimple in her left cheek that was a perfect match to his. Shouldn’t he know his own mother?
If he’d forgotten her, what if she’d forgotten him? She’d probably moved on. Maybe he should too. After all, that would be easier than trying to fit into a family that already had their shared stories, inside jokes, and established traditions. He might share genetics with them, but the fact remained that they were strangers.
Every day he’d left with no intention of coming back, but every day he’d returned, expecting it to be easier. It wasn’t. But the time Al had given him had run out, so unless he wanted his mother to hear the news from the police, it was today or never. Luke reached for the handle, stepped out of the truck, and walked up to the white house.
Moisture gathered on his brow as his finger pressed the doorbell. After what seemed like an eternity, the door swung open, revealing a version of his own face five years back, but with blue eyes instead of dark brown. If he’d had any doubt that he was in the wrong place, it vanished.
The guy blinked at him, looking confused. Join the club. Then again, Luke had had three days of mental prep work.
Luke cleared his throat, shoved his hands in his pockets, and then pulled them back out. “Hi, I’m Luke, and I think . . . I’m your brother.”
The guy stared at him.
Maybe he’d try a different approach. “Do Len and Ann Kingsley live here?”
“Sorry, come in.” The guy blinked a few times, then stepped aside for Luke to enter. “Uh . . . Dad?”
A man with salt-and-pepper hair and black-rimmed glasses glanced up from his paper and froze, all expression melting away.
Luke cringed. What had he expected, showing up out of the blue?
“I’ve got the popcorn.” A door swung open and a woman floated into the room. “Libby’s grabbing the pop. Could you help her, Liam?”
Her hair was cut short now and fully gray, but the warm eyes were the same and so was the dimple. Her gaze traveled from the guy next to him to Luke, then back to the guy, then back to Luke. She dropped the bowl, sending popcorn across the wood floor as her hands flew to her face.
Luke shifted from one foot to the other, then back. This wasn’t going well. He stared at his feet, anxious to get away from the three sets of eyes. He drew a breath and lifted his head. Make that five sets. Great, now the whole family was here. He glanced back at the door. “Maybe I should go and—”
“No!” The collective shout filled the room.
Luke swallowed and stepped a foot closer to the door. He wanted to stay, sort of. He wanted a family, at least. But this was a ready-made family. Complete without him.
“Luke?” The older man stood and stepped toward him. He was much taller than Luke would have guessed. He took another step and extended his hand. “I’m Len Kingsley. Your stepfather. This is my wife, Ann, your mother.”
Ann took a hesitant step toward him. Her shaky hand touched a curl at the side of his head. “You’re so beautiful.”
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he offered a clumsy hug in return and stepped back. Everything felt off. He didn’t even know this woman.
The man continued with the introductions. “Luke, you already sort of met Liam at the door, and that’s his fraternal twin, Logan. They’re your half brothers.”
Logan shook his hand. “You look more like Liam than I do, and we’re twins.”
“You look like your father, Logan. They both look like my father,” Ann said in a shaky voice. She turned to Luke. “Only Liam got his father’s blue eyes, and Luke got his father’s.”
Tension rose in Luke’s shoulders, but he offered a half smile and nodded.
“That’s Libby. She’s a few years older than you and was my sister’s daughter. She came to live with us when you were just a baby.”
Libby must have been the girl with pigtails in the photo. She still had the long blonde hair. And her eyes were blue just like everyone else’s—everyone but him.
“We adopted her shortly after Len and I married. So she’s biologically your cousin and your half sister by adoption.” Ann sat down, her hands clutched in her lap. “Would you like a seat?”
Luke chose the chair closest to the door. “Do you know why my father took me?”
Len sat next to Ann, slid his hand into hers, and gave her an encouraging nod.
“I don’t know what he told you,” Ann said, “but I do know your father loved you. We married young and were divorced before our second anniversary. You were less than a year. I had primary custody, but your father had every other weekend and a lot of holidays. I know he wanted full custody but seemed content with the arrangement until I started dating Len, who was military at the time and was considering a transfer to San Diego. When your father found out, he went crazy. But I never guessed he’d do what he did.”
Luke closed his eyes, trying to make sense of all the pieces. “How did you know it was him?”
“It was my fault.” Libby’s voice tumbled out as big tears pooled in her eyes. “I’m sorry. It was my fault. I—”
“No. Libby, you can’t think that.” Ann reached out and placed a hand on her arm.
“I was seven and you were almost four, and we were playing tag in the yard.” Libby stared at him and then back to the floor. “Your dad pulled up and said he’d come to take you for the weekend. I remember it seemed odd. He was in a hurry and you usually took a bag with you. But he insisted it was fine.”
Ann closed her eyes as if returning to that day. “At first we weren’t sure if it was a surprise trip. He did that occasionally. He’d stop by to take you to Dairy Queen or the like. By the time I contacted the police, you’d been gone several hours.” She opened her eyes and drew a deep breath. “After it became clear we wouldn’t find you, I waited for him to change his mind. Waited for him to contact me. Waited for something. Did he not tell you any of this?”
Luke rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Maybe he planned to. But I was only five when he died.”
As soon as the words were out, he winced. He hadn’t meant to break that news quite so abruptly. When he lifted his head, his mother’s face had gone ashen.
“Who raised you?” Liam voiced the question written on all their faces.
Luke glanced at Ann and swallowed. What mother wanted to hear that her baby had grown up in the foster care system? It was one thing to believe the child’s loving father raised him, but to know he never knew the love of a parent . . .
He cleared his throat. Why was it so hard to swallow all of a sudden? “I bounced around a few foster homes before settling with Mrs. Shoemaker in the second grade.”
Ann crumpled into Len’s shoulder, her hands shaking.
Len pulled his wife closer and rubbed her back. “Did she adopt you?”
“No.” Pressure built in his chest. “She was a very kind foster mother, though.”
“I should’ve looked harder.” Ann’s voice had dropped to a whisper.
Len took her by the shoulders and made her look him in the eye. “Ann, stop. You put yourself in the hospital searching for him.”
“She really was kind.” Luke swallowed his own emotions. “You want to see a photo of her?” Lifting his phone from his pocket, he pulled up the photo of him from eighth grade that Hannah had sent him after the prom and passed it to Ann.
She looked at the photo a minute before her eyes closed. “I missed so much.”
“She reminds me of Grandma.” Logan peered over his mother’s shoulder.
Ann blinked and wiped away a few more tears. “Do you have other photos of growing up? How old were you here?”
Luke shrugged. “Eighth grade. I think I have a few at home.”
Liam picked up the phone and flipped back a photo. It was another one Hannah had sent from the night at the prom. “Is this your girlfriend?”
“No.” His chest squeezed, but he’d kept his voice light.
Liam studied the photo. “Want to introduce me? She’s hot.”
“No.” Okay, not so light that time.
Everyone stared at him as he reached for his phone. Not awkward at all.
Ann pressed her palms to her cheeks, then stood to her feet. “I need to make some more popcorn. Would you care to help me, Luke?”
He didn’t know much about making popcorn unless it involved a microwave, but one inquisition was easier than five. He stood and followed Ann into the kitchen. “Sure thing.”
“We do it the old-fashioned way. Put a quarter cup of this in that pot there.” She handed him oil before turning to measure the kernels. “I have so many questions, but I’ll do my best not to overwhelm you. Where do you live now?”
Luke filled the cup in his hand and poured the oil in the pot. “North of Grand Rapids—or I did until a few days ago. I don’t know if I’ll go back.”
She measured the popcorn, set it aside, and then dropped just two kernels in the heating oil. “Why not?”
Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t ready for all aspects of family yet. “Aren’t you going to pour the rest of the popcorn in?”
She studied him a moment, then turned back to the stove. “You have to wait for the oil to be at the right temperature. When those two kernels pop, that tells us it’s time. Some things can’t be rushed.”
Was she talking about the popcorn or this whole situation? Probably both.
She glanced up at him. “Where are you staying now?”
“In a motel down the way.”
“Then stay here while you get things figured out. We have room. Please.”
Stay here? Sure, she was his mother, but it seemed weird. Still, he was almost out of money, so what choice did he really have? It was either that or return to Heritage. “That’d be great. I won’t impose for more than a week. By then I should know what I’m doing. Thank you, Ann.”
She winced at the sound of her given name and turned back to the stove once more. His stomach sank as she wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. He didn’t want to hurt her more, but he couldn’t make the word “Mom” pass his lips. Maybe it was a mistake staying here. After all, what did he know about being part of a family?
A small pop echoed in the pot. Then another. Ann poured in the rest of the kernels, covered the pot, then shook it from side to side. The kernels exploded at a machine-gun pace, each one offering the smallest amount of hope that with time he could find a place to belong here with his family.