attorney-talk, although it was probably only natural to have thoughts of Jonah occasionally when she came here—to the house he’d grown up in. Once upon a very long time ago he may have been her fiancé, but he was still Caleb’s grandson. Unfortunately for her, he would always be Caleb’s grandson.
She knocked on the door and decided her odd feelings might be the direct result of hunger. After eating a total of two cookies all day, maybe her blood sugar was haywire or something.
Shay felt a smile forming as the door began to open. Caleb’s dog, Francis, was barking madly now and she found herself looking forward to a relaxing evening with Caleb. The door swung wider, her smile melting from her face as her brain registered the sight before her...
Jonah?
She couldn’t seem to make herself breathe much less speak. This reaction, she knew, was not blood-sugar related. She gripped the Crock-Pot even as she pictured it slipping from her grasp and shattering all over the stone walkway.
“Hello, Shay.” Jonah’s voice came out smooth and easy, but his eyes were latched on to hers. Caleb hadn’t said anything about Jonah coming home. Jonah never—well, rarely ever, came home.
She quickly calculated he’d been home a total of eight times in ten years—not that she was counting (not on purpose, anyway), and each visit had seemed briefer than the last, a day or two, or three at the most.
At first she and Jonah mostly avoided each other, then their tense encounters began to be filled with bitterness and sarcastic jibes, until they finally culminated in a conversation two years ago that had been unpleasant, to put it mildly.
Latent anger had emerged from both sides; she still seethed when she recalled how he’d accused her of taking the easy road, of being afraid to take a chance on life—on him, while she’d told him exactly what she thought of his lack of attention to his grandfather.
Nothing had been settled and Shay had been left feeling even angrier and more frustrated than before, as well as emotionally drained, and maybe a little embarrassed. And sad... There was always that underlying sadness—the grief that she was so terrible at dealing with, although she couldn’t blame Jonah for that—not entirely.
But now here he was, standing in front of her looking perfectly composed and smelling freshly showered. Shay hadn’t even bothered to glance in the mirror during her brief stop at home. She’d mixed the corn bread and fed the cats and then tried to give some attention to all six of them—her three and the three foster cats she’d recently taken in, while the corn bread baked. She was probably looking like a tired and rumpled mess. Was she imagining that whiff of “savvy-cat salmon grill” wafting from the sleeve of her shirt that she hadn’t bothered to change?
Of course he undoubtedly knew that she’d been on her way over. It was so like him to take advantage of any edge, like the good cut-throat attorney he was.
“Here, let me take that for you.” He reached out and removed the Crock-Pot from her white-knuckled grasp.
She was too stunned to offer any protest.
“Jonah?”
“How are you, Shay?”
How was she? The question sounded all laid-back and high-school-casual as if they’d parted on friendly terms last week instead of suffering an excruciating breakup ten years ago, and years of tension and animosity since.
Francis, Caleb’s “maladoodle,” as he liked to call the poodle-malamute mix would no longer be ignored—her tail thudding hard against the door frame as she forced her way to Shay’s side. Shay reached out a hand, seeking solace in the familiar feel of her velvet-soft fur.
“What are you doing here?” she managed to ask.
Jonah’s mouth curved up at the corners. “I live here, remember? Or I used to anyway. And I will be again, for a while. Come in, I hope you’re planning to stay for dinner because Gramps is expecting you.”
Will be again? What did that mean? Her brain refused to process what it so obviously meant.
“I told Gramps that I would take him out for dinner tonight, but he insisted on letting you bring your moose stew. He said he’s been looking forward to this meal all week.”
“Yeah, well, he really likes it...” Shay mumbled sheepishly and moved around Jonah. In the kitchen, a beaming Caleb waited with his arms outstretched. The look of delight on his face managed to nudge her out of her Jonah-shock.
“Howdy, sweet girl!”
“Hey, Caleb,” she said as he wrapped his strong arms around her. Welcome comfort enveloped her; the sensation so like what she’d always enjoyed with her own grandpa, but different too, because she didn’t have to share Caleb with her five siblings. She didn’t even have to share him with his own neglectful grandson—not usually.
“How are you feeling?” Always her first question when she saw Caleb.
He pulled back, gripping Shay lightly by the shoulders as he grinned down at her. “Right as rain, now! Been saving room all day for your stew and I’m so hungry I briefly considered sharing Francis’s dinner. I’ve got the table all set, so let’s dig in, huh?”
“I, um, yes definitely,” Shay said, trying to force out some enthusiasm. “There’s more food in the car, so let me just—”
“I’ll get it,” Jonah said, and took off before either of them could say anything.
“Caleb, you didn’t mention Jonah was coming for a visit.”
“Well, I wasn’t entirely sure about the whole thing. You know Jonah—he wasn’t sure which day he was going to be able to fly out and whatnot, so I didn’t mention it. Didn’t want to jinx it—you know?” He rapped his knuckles lightly on the cupboard door behind him and added a wink.
She did know.
Every time one of Jonah’s trips hadn’t materialized, she watched Caleb deal with those dashed hopes. Why couldn’t Jonah understand what his actions did to his grandfather—the man who had loved and raised him from the age of nine?
Caleb had given Jonah so much, and in return Jonah had taken off for the big city to make money and buy expensive toys—and never looked back. Well, that wasn’t true—he’d looked back exactly eight, short, pathetic times.
Jonah returned with the rest of the food and they filed into the dining room. Caleb sat at one end of the antique oak table, while she and Jonah positioned themselves on either side of him. Caleb asked a quick blessing, and then dove into the corn bread, slicing and scooping out portions onto their plates as if this were the most normal thing in the world—the three of them eating dinner together like some kind of happy family.
Of course, it had been once...
Jonah too, appeared unbothered as he spooned thick stew into their bowls and passed them around.
Shay felt like screaming in frustration—she did not want to be here with Jonah. She knew there was absolutely no way of getting out of it now even as a parade of lame headache, stomachache, inn-emergency excuses danced silently across her tongue.
Caleb turned his animated
