Читать книгу Small-Town Homecoming - Lissa Manley - Страница 12

Chapter Three

With nervousness eating away at him, Curt opened the door to the Sports Shack and stepped inside. The bells above clanged as the door swung closed behind him. Instantly, the smell of sporting goods—leather and rubber and something indefinable yet totally distinctive—hit him.

He paused and breathed deep, taking it all in, feeling as if his new life was actually starting. He’d saved himself from his messed-up old life, and he only wanted to see it in his rearview mirror.

Excitement bubbled inside, warring with gut-munching apprehension. This store would be his “home” for the next month—and maybe longer if things worked out the way he wanted.

He focused on the excitement, choosing to savor the moment, which had been so long in coming. There had been times in the past ten years he actually thought he’d die before he ever returned to Moonlight Cove, much less actually set foot in Seth’s store. Curt had burned a lot of bridges in his life—demolished them, actually—and this opportunity meant everything.

Seth was counting on Curt. He couldn’t screw this up.

Setting his shoulders, he moved forward. “Seth?” he called. “You here?” They’d made plans to meet at 9:00 a.m., before the place officially opened, so Seth could train Curt in the ins and outs of the daily running of the store.

Seth came out of his office at the back. “Bro!” He waved and headed toward Curt.

Curt felt something ease inside of him at the sight of his brother. He and Seth, and Ian, their younger brother, shared a bond not only as brothers but as survivors of the dysfunctional Graham household. Few others understood the scars their childhood had caused.

“It’s good to see you!” Seth said, embracing Curt.

Curt hugged his brother back. “You, too,” he said, choking up a bit, barely able to get the words out.

Seth let him go and pulled back, his blue eyes piercing. “Hey, now. Are you going all emotional on me?”

“Maybe a bit,” Curt said sheepishly. “I’m beginning to appreciate how good it is to have family around to support me.” In the past, family had meant trauma, stress and fighting.

“You haven’t had that in a long time. It’s been a rough road,” Seth stated.

“More like jagged.” Full of potholes and backsliding and enough excuses to fill a dump truck. “I finally feel like I’m on a smoother path.” Not perfect. But better. Rock bottom had had a way of making him appreciate that like never before.

Seth went behind the counter. “I hope so.” He gave Curt a solemn look. “I’d like my brother back.”

A lump sprouted in Curt’s throat. “Me, too.” He and his brothers had been close growing up, and Curt had always looked up to Seth, the oldest. “I...need to apologize.”

“As part of your recovery?” Seth asked.

“Yes, that.” There was so much more, though. “But also because...well, you did your best when we were in high school to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

“You were hanging out with a bad crowd, making bad choices, and I was worried. Especially when I found the drugs in your drawer.”

Curt flinched. “Not my finest moment.” He remembered the day during his junior year of high school that Seth, a senior, had showed him the drugs he’d found and confronted Curt about his wild behavior. Regret burned a hole in his gut. His life had been a series of bad moments. “I know I told you this when you visited L.A., but I have to say I’m sorry again. And that I’m going to stay clean. I want to turn my life around.”

A year ago, Curt had ended up in the hospital from an overdose. The E.R. doctor had told him that if he kept abusing drugs, he’d die sooner or later. Probably sooner.

Terrified of dying, Curt had gone directly into an inpatient drug treatment program, and had then moved into a halfway house run by a local church charity. The best life decision he’d made until that point. His life had been littered with bad choices.

Finding God hadn’t been one of them. The Lord had saved Curt, and he would never forget that God hadn’t judged him. He had forgiven him completely, and now Curt was trying to forgive himself and move on to a better life.

“Look how far you’ve come,” Seth replied, pressing his hand to Curt’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, bro.”

Curt’s eyes tingled. He couldn’t remember anyone ever being proud of him. Certainly not himself. “Don’t be, yet. My recovery journey isn’t complete. Be proud of me when I prove to you that I’m staying clean.” For once he needed to show others he was reliable, in control and sober. He desperately wanted to be a good Christian man, hard worker and the kind of person who put his family first, no matter what. He alone was responsible for that.

A pair of pretty green eyes came to mind. Jenna. Look what she’d accomplished on her own, all for the sake of her grandparents’ home, because of her staunch love for them. She was a perfect example of the kind of person he hoped to emulate—

The bells over the door rang.

“Uh-oh,” Seth said under his breath but loud enough for Curt to hear. “Brace yourself, bro.”

Curt frowned, the bottom of his stomach sliding sideways. He froze, his eyes wide. “Why?”

“Because Dad just walked in, and from the looks of the glower on his face, he’s on the warpath.”

His shoulders bunching, Curt turned. He steeled himself to see the man he hadn’t laid eyes on in more than twelve years. After Curt had rammed his motorcycle into a tree, Dad had come to the hospital to tell him not to bother coming home, seeing as he was now a druggie with a record. Worse yet, by virtue of her dead silence, his mom had agreed. It had been a cruel blow to an eighteen-year-old Curt, and he’d never really been the same since.

Angry and hurt, Curt had done just as his dad had asked. He’d gone to live with a friend until he healed, and then he’d left town, sure news of his accident would spread and everyone in town would be judging him and talking about him. He’d told himself he didn’t need his family or Moonlight Cove.

Hitting the lowest point of his life recently changed everything.

Sure enough, his dad stood there in the store entryway, looking tired and bitter. Old, too. He’d gone completely gray and had put on a paunch that stretched his dingy shirt tight over his middle. As usual, he was dressed haphazardly in too-short pants, mangled, mud-spattered tennis shoes that looked as if they’d been made when dinosaurs roamed the earth and a beat-up bright orange fishing vest. His face was tanned to a leathery finish by all his hours spent in the sun—while fishing, Curt presumed, if tradition held true—and deep wrinkles fanned out from his eyes and across his forehead. An oncologist’s field day.

“Heard you were back in town,” his dad said by way of a greeting. He had his face pressed into a tight scowl. A perpetual scowl, if Curt remembered correctly, usually accompanied by harsh words and follow-up criticism.

Curt inclined his head to the left. “Yes, I got in yesterday.” He was determined not to let his dad throw him into a tailspin. Duking it out verbally with Dad wouldn’t accomplish anything, and Curt was trying to prove himself a changed man. And that meant approaching Dad with a cool, calm demeanor that wouldn’t ruffle his highly ruffable feathers.

Although it might throw his dad to discover Curt wasn’t going to be his verbal sparring partner anymore. They’d always had a contentious relationship; Curt had been the son his dad was never happy with. Growing up, disappointment had been Curt’s middle name.

His dad came closer, his jaw noticeably tight. “Where are you stayin’?”

“At the Sweetheart Inn.”

“He’s here getting caught up on details before Kim and I leave for Seattle tomorrow,” Seth interjected.

His father shook his head and looked at Seth. “I still think you’re crazy for bringing him on. As the guy who started this business, I know this place needs someone responsible.”

That fire-tipped arrow hit home with perfect accuracy, zinging a familiar lance of pain through Curt’s gut.

“He’s been clean for six months, Dad,” Seth said.

His dad snorted. “So he says.”

Curt saw red tinged with the shadows of his misspent past. “It’s true,” he forced the words out. “Rehab took.”

“How many other times have you relapsed?” Dad asked.

A rock lodged in Curt’s throat. “Three.”

Dad flung his hands up into the air. “See? It won’t last. It never does.”

“Maybe you ought to give him a chance,” Seth replied quietly. “He’s worked really hard to get here, and we’re his family. We need to support him in any way we can.”

Curt met Seth’s gaze and nodded his appreciation.

His dad scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Family didn’t mean anything to him when he ran around town, drunk and stupid, getting arrested, treating other people like dirt. He brought shame down on the whole Graham family.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I acted out to get your attention?” Curt said in a low, raspy voice. “You and Mom were so busy fighting, you didn’t pay any attention to us kids.” As soon as the words were out, he regretted saying them. Old habits pushing through again.

“Oh, so now you’re blaming me and your mom for your crummy choices?” his father said, his blue eyes blazing. “You never did want to take responsibility for your own behavior, Curt. Never.”

Curt felt the old resentment building, a tide of anger that manifested itself as a burning wall inside of him. The urge to lash out was strong—overwhelming, actually—and Curt opened his mouth to blast his dad with both barrels.

But then he realized that would be something the old Curt would do. He didn’t want to be that man anymore. Couldn’t be if he wanted to build a new life. So he stuffed the vitriol and remembered what Marv had taught him:

Own your behavior.

You cannot fix what you do not acknowledge.

The only thing you can control is your own reactions.

“You’re right, Dad,” he said, keeping tight control on his tone. “I do need to take responsibility for my behavior.”

His dad pulled in his stubbly chin, frowning, clearly flummoxed by Curt’s statement.

Curt went on, “I made bad choices, ones I regret. But I want to change that pattern, and that’s why I’m back in Moonlight Cove. I want to be a different man, one who can be counted on, one who my niece and nephew will look up to.”

“So we’re all just supposed to forgive and forget?” his dad asked, his eyes narrow. “Is that what you’re expecting?”

“That’s what I was hoping for,” Curt replied, hating the hesitation in his voice. He’d always felt unsure around his father and it looked as if that emotional reaction hadn’t changed. His heart sank. Another daunting challenge to face and deal with. There were so many pieces to be put together in the puzzle of his new life that he could barely keep track of them.

“You always did wish for the moon.” His dad shook his head. “All those dreams of being a musician, when you could have just been content to work at the store.”

“That was your dream, Dad, not mine,” Curt replied. This was an old bone between them—his dad had wanted Curt and his brothers to work in the store, expecting that one of them would someday take over. They’d had this argument in so many ways over the years Curt had lost count.

“Yeah, you’ve told me that before.” His dad ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking on end. “You didn’t want anything to do with the Sports Shack, and what did you do with your life instead? Wasted it on drugs.”

Seth stepped into the fray. “Hey, now—”

Curt held up a rigid hand. “No, I’ve got this.” While he appreciated Seth speaking up on his behalf, Curt had learned that he needed to fight his own battles—without drugs to numb him or give him false bravado.

Seth deferred and stepped back, allowing Curt a moment to rein in his temper. Getting angry would only fuel the fire. And prove to his father that he, Curt, was still a hothead. No matter what his dad threw out, Curt had to stay in control of his emotions, even though his gut was churning and he could feel his pulse beating in his head.

“You’re right, I did waste my life on drugs. You think I don’t know that?” He took a deep breath. “But now I’m looking for a fresh start, and I’ve taken the steps necessary to make that happen.”

“Fresh start?” His dad gave a derisive laugh. “There is no such thing as a fresh start in life, or I would have made one years ago.”

Yeah, Dad had never been able to rise above his hardscrabble childhood as an orphan. In fact, he seemed bent on perpetuating the negative cycle of his youth. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to break the circle.

“That’s your perspective, and you’re entitled to it,” Curt said. “But I have a new view on life, new goals, and I’ll do whatever necessary to achieve them. I have hope that people will see that I’ve changed.”

His dad snorted, then shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to keep on hoping. I’m not going to let you off the hook, and nobody else in this town is, either. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

Curt’s shoulders went heavy. He did his best not to give in to the downward pull, and tried to stand tall. But after so much time spent crawling through life, remaining upright and strong was hard. Especially when he had his dad shoving him down. But no one had said returning to Moonlight Cove would be easy. “You’re entitled to your opinion. I only have control over my own actions, so that’s the way I’m rolling.”

“Good luck with that,” his dad said, giving a mock salute. “You’re gonna need it.” He turned his attention to Seth, dismissing Curt as if he were a fly on the wall. “Did you get that fishing gear I ordered?”

Seth gave Curt a half-apologetic, half-questioning look, as if to ask if Curt wanted him to intervene.

Curt shook his head ever so slightly. No. He appreciated his brother’s willingness to defend him, but nothing Seth could say to Dad would make any difference.

Seth frowned, but then turned his attention to his dad. “Yeah, I did. It’s in my office.” He gestured sharply to the far wall. “Follow me.”

Without a glance toward Curt, his father trailed Seth to the back, leaving Curt alone. With a heavy sigh he leaned his arms on the front counter and put his head in his hands. Dad’s attitude stung. A lot. He had zero faith in Curt, and had made it clear he wasn’t going to overlook what Curt had done in the past.

Though Curt hadn’t really expected anything resembling true forgiveness, he’d nurtured a kernel of optimism that Dad had softened his stance in the past ten years. And that perhaps the townspeople would be able to forgive Curt’s past sins. His dad didn’t think that was ever happening.

Maybe Curt had hoped for too much. He’d torn a path of destruction through town during his teen years and the damage couldn’t be repaired. Maybe he’d always be a pariah: the middle Graham boy who’d barely made it through high school, caused trouble, and had almost killed himself one night twelve years ago while driving drunk.

Suddenly a vision of Jenna rose in his mind’s eye. What would she say if she found out the truth about him, assuming she didn’t know already? Would she look at him with derision in her eyes, ticking off his faults one by one as she went down her perfect-man checklist?

Probably.

A crater formed in his belly.

Another quandary circled around his brain like a poisonous snake. Had coming back to Moonlight Cove been one giant mistake that would be more easily left behind than dealt with?

Right now, he was very afraid all of the above was true and that starting over in Moonlight Cove—and hoping for love someday—was an unattainable dream that would never come true. No matter how hard he tried.