The Hearts We Mend (20 page)

“You are to them.”

C
HAPTER
23

S
o Maggie has a lot picked out for the community garden, and now she has to get people on board to help?”

Jack didn't want to talk about himself—or he didn't believe her. Maybe both. Whatever the reason, Evie took the hint.

“Right, but there's a little more to it than that. She asked if I would consider adding the lot to the garden walk the women's ministry team is hosting in a few weeks.” Evie took a tentative sip of the steaming coffee. “I guess she's hoping it will get people excited about the idea.”

Jack cocked his head. “You don't sound excited.”

“I haven't had a lot of time to think about it. We sponsor the event every summer, and the women expect to walk through a
garden
, not an empty lot.”

“But you told her you'd look at it.”

“You've never met Maggie . . .” Evie paused. “Do you hear that?”

Was it her imagination, or had Jack just winced?

“Hear what?”

“Someone playing the guitar.” Evie leaned closer to the edge of the balcony and tried to peer through the railing. “Where is it coming from?”

“The building next to this one, I think.”

The soft patter of bare feet against the hardwood floor told Evie that Lily had heard it too. The little girl appeared a moment later, hugging a large black leather case.

No question about it anymore, this time Evie did see a wince.

“Evie and I are talking right now, sweetheart.”

“But you have to answer!” Lily set the case down next to Jack and popped the gold hinges.

“Answer?” Evie couldn't hide her curiosity.

“He and Uncle Jack talk to each other.” Lily opened the lid and scuttled backward as Jack lifted a tarnished saxophone from the case.

“One song.” He rose to his feet, fitted the reed into the mouthpiece, and slipped the strap over his head.

The guitarist was silent, almost as if he was waiting for Jack to make the next move.

Lily plunked down in Evie's lap and tugged the hem of her nightgown over her feet, her low giggle blending into the opening notes.

Evie wasn't familiar with jazz, but it was impossible to remain motionless when the fluid, bluesy notes of the saxophone blended with the music from the guitar and Lily's shoulders began to sway. Evie gave in and swayed along with her.

When the song ended, a scattering of applause erupted from the guys hanging out at the corner bar.

“Okay . . . time for bed.” Jack bent down and pressed a kiss on top of Lily's head.

“Already?”

“Already. I told Raine I'd drop you off a few minutes early tomorrow morning, and she's got a busy day planned for the two of you.”

“Okay.” Lily's face lit up. “'Night, Evie!”

“Don't forget to brush your teeth.” Jack eased the saxophone over his head and put it to bed too. “I'll be there in a little while to tuck you in.”

Lily disappeared into the apartment, leaving them alone again.

“Sorry about the interruption.” Jack exhaled a laugh as he sat down next to her again. “You were telling me about Maggie.”

“Who was playing the guitar?” Maggie could wait a moment. “A friend of yours?”

“I have no idea. We've never met.” Jack shrugged. “Lily asked me to play when she was over here a few weeks ago, and all of a sudden someone joined in on the guitar. Once or twice a week we go back and forth. Play a few songs together.”

Evie wasn't a musician, but judging from the quality of Jack's performance, he wasn't an amateur.

“How long have you been playing?”

“Since middle school. Mom gave Travis and me an ultimatum. Pick an extracurricular activity or she would. She worked a lot of evenings and weekends, so she wanted to make sure we didn't have time to get into trouble.

“There was a guy in our apartment building—Jefferson—who played the trumpet, and it kind of sparked our interest in music. I wanted to play the drums, of course, but Mom said we'd get evicted. We found a used alto sax at Goodwill, so I joined the jazz band. Trav announced it wasn't cool enough and talked one of Jefferson's friends into giving him guitar lessons.”

“Did you ever play professionally?”

Jack hesitated. “It depends on what you mean by professionally, I guess. Trav and I messed around, wrote a few songs together. He was more serious about it than I was though. Started a rock band when he got out of high school, and they did pretty well in
the clubs. Once in a while, he talked me into playing a set or two with them. I didn't really fit the whole rock-and-roll thing they had going, but it was a way to stay connected to my brother.”

“I never thought of you as a jazz musician.”

“Let me guess.” Jack cocked his head. “Professional baseball player?”

Evie couldn't help it. She started laughing. “Truth?”

Jack pressed one hand against his heart. “I'm ready.”

“Biker gang.”

“What?”
Jack looked stunned by Evie's confession. “No leather jacket. No do-rag. And—this is kind of important—I drive a
pickup
truck.”

“I didn't know that at the time.” Evie's gaze dropped to his arm and bounced back up again.

“What are you . . .” Jack glanced down. “Oh, I get it now. The stereotypical biker tattoo.”

Evie's laughter died when he pushed up the sleeve of his T-shirt. “It's a sword. And a reminder.”

“That the decisions you make when you're young can't always be erased?”

“I suppose that's true.” Jack looked like he was trying to keep a straight face. “But I got it right before I moved to Banister Falls.”

“What does it remind you of?”

“I'm in a battle.”

“You're going to have to explain that.”

“How much time do you have?”

Evie realized Jack was repeating the words she'd said to him when he'd found her on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building, staring at Maggie's vacant lot.

And there was something in his eyes—some dark memory—that should have prompted a swift but polite good night.

But what she said was, “Enough.”

The muscles in Jack's arm seized up when Evie suddenly reached out and traced the outline of the sword with her fingertips.

“Have you read the book of Nehemiah?” Jack's airway was about to seal shut, so the words came out a little rough.

Evie nodded. Her hand fell away, but her eyes never left his face.

“He left the king's palace, where he was comfortable, and returned to Jerusalem, even though everyone thought he was crazy for trying to rebuild the walls around the city. Nehemiah didn't care. He assigned certain groups of people to work on sections of the wall, but they were always under the threat of attack, so they had a sword in one hand and their cordless drill in the other.”

Evie's lips tipped in a smile.

“When the people got discouraged, Nehemiah told them to fight for their brothers and sons . . . for their daughters and wives and their homes. I realize it was written a long time ago, but there was my answer. Trav and Cheryl and Lily, they're the only family I have.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“Believe me, Evie, my family saga is never going to be featured on the Hallmark Channel.”

“But it's
your
family,” Evie said. As if that made all the difference.

And for some reason, it did.

“They divorced when I was four. Dad had an affair with a woman he met at work and walked out on us. Mom was pregnant with Trav at the time, and Dad didn't even put up a fight when Mom filed for full custody. He picked me up once in a while and took me out for a burger, but Trav was a baby, and what was he supposed to do with one of those, right? Dad wasn't even sure what to do with me for a few hours on a Saturday afternoon.

“Mom did her best, but she held down two jobs. We stayed with
a neighbor until I was old enough to keep an eye on Travis while she was at work. When I was fourteen, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.”

Jack let Evie draw her own picture of that. He couldn't begin to describe what it had been like. Standing by, helpless, while the disease slowly claimed its victory.

“Dad ended up with us anyway. Trav was so bitter by the time we moved in with him, he wouldn't cut Dad any slack. Couldn't forgive him for walking out on Mom. And on us.”

“But you forgave him.”

“Not right away. Dad's second marriage had already fallen apart and he worked a lot. When he was around, he and Trav butted heads constantly. I don't think they realized how much they were alike. After high school, I got a job at a construction company and Coop—the owner—took me under his wing. The crew called him Preacher behind his back, but the funny thing was, Coop never preached at all. He just lived what he believed.”

Jack was under no illusions—he might have walked the same path as Trav if it hadn't been for Theodore Cooper. But it was a whole lot easier to talk about his brother's mistakes than his own. Especially when he was talking to Evie.

“I came home from work one day and found Trav packing a suitcase. He was moving in with a girl he'd met at a party.”

“Cheryl?” Evie guessed.

“They had a lot in common at first—they both loved loud music and a cold bottle of beer—but Cheryl finally admitted she had a problem and joined a recovery group. She'd started hinting that she wanted to break things off with Travis, but then found out she was expecting Lily. She convinced Trav to get help, and for a while he did okay. He quit the band, got a decent job, and didn't party on the weekends. And then . . . our dad died.”

Evie looked so shocked Jack was tempted to end the story right there.

She'd known loss, too, but Max Bennett had left a legacy behind that his son could be proud of.

“How?”

The question prompted Jack to turn the next page.

“A heart attack. Trav took it pretty hard. He'd rebuffed Dad's attempts to start over so many times . . . and then he ran out of time. He didn't show up for the funeral, and then I got a call from Cheryl at three o'clock in the morning. A sheriff 's deputy found Travis's car upside down in the ditch a few miles from the cemetery. He was still in it.

“He had a ruptured spleen, a few cracked ribs, and a broken femur. The doctor prescribed pain pills, and Trav kept taking them. When he couldn't get a doctor to renew his prescription, he started looking on the street. He got into an argument with his boss and lost his job. Cheryl . . . The pressure got to her and she slipped up too. It was a wakeup call for both of them.

“A friend put in a good word for Cheryl at the factory and she accepted the job. She'd planned on it being just her and Lily, but Trav convinced her to give him another chance. New city, new start, right? But you and I both know that a change of scenery doesn't change a person on the inside. Only God can do that. And Trav hasn't figured out that he can't fill the empty places inside of him with drugs and alcohol.”

“So you put your life on hold and moved here too?”

“I don't look at it that way.” Jack smiled at the thought. “My life isn't on hold—I'm just living it
here.
Moment by moment. But sometimes you have to decide what's going to cost you more. The risk or the regret. I've read the pamphlets. I realize I can't fight my brother's battles for him. I just had to show him that he's worth fighting
for
.”

C
HAPTER
24

W
hen she got home on Wednesday afternoon, Evie found two packages on the front step, both of them addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Cody Bennett. Belated wedding gifts, most likely.

Anchoring them against her hip, she unlocked the front door and heard . . . nothing.

Ordinarily she liked the quiet. But today the weight of the silence settled over her, as oppressive as the humidity that thickened the air outside.

She tried to shake away the feeling as she set the packages down inside the door.

Cody and Raine sometimes walked Diva over for a visit in the evening, but Evie couldn't see them carrying the packages halfway across town—especially when it looked like a storm was brewing. The sun had disappeared, hidden behind the gray-and-black clouds that rolled together in a slow boil.

The perfect night to stay inside, make a batch of popcorn, and watch a movie.

After she dropped off the packages.

She changed into a pair of jean capris and threw on the light-blue camp shirt she'd bought on a shopping excursion with Dan's sisters to the Mall of America.

The packages went into the backseat, and Evie drove across town to Cody's house. She'd spent the majority of the day with Gertrude, helping her get settled in at home after the social worker at the nursing home signed her discharge papers. A week's worth of meals were tucked into Gertrude's freezer, and Evie had compiled a list of volunteers to do some light housekeeping until she regained all her strength.