That wasn't entirely fair, he supposed, but his irritation didn't allow for more charitable thoughts. She had the softest heart of anyone he knew. Too soft. And once she decided something, nothing and no one was going to change it.
For half an hour he took winding paths off of 232 and then doubled back as he continued farther south along the lake. He'd just crossed Leatherwood Creek when he rounded the bend and saw a lone figure walking down the side of the highway. Rusty.
He slowed and rolled down the passenger window as he came up on her. She glanced warily over at him when he pulled up alongside her, and then she stiffened when she recognized him.
"Any particular reason you're walking by yourself down the highway when my mother is about to lose her mind worrying over you?" he snapped.
She stared straight ahead and kept walking, her shoulders stiff and her jaw set.
"She doesn't care about me," Rusty muttered.
"Oh, really. I suppose that's why she took you in, fed you, clothed you, gave you a place to stay and is generally making the rest of us insane demanding that we accept you, not say a damn word to you and all get out looking for you right now when we'd rather be focused on Rachel's homecoming."
She came to an abrupt stop, her lips curling into a snarl. "Rachel. I'm so sick of hearing about Rachel. Rachel is so wonderful. ‘The daughter of my heart.' Everyone loves Rachel. Marlene has no need of me now that her real daughter is back."
Despite his irritation, Nathan softened as he stared at the girl. She was hurting, and she was doing everything in her power not to let him see how much she was hurting.
"Get in," he said.
She shook her head.
"Come on. We'll go for a drive. If you don't want to go home yet, we'll just drive."
She hesitated, and her lips trembled. He reached over and opened the door, shoving it outward. She gave a deep sigh and climbed into the passenger seat.
"Seat belt," he said patiently.
She scowled but slapped the seat belt around her and clicked it into place.
He drove on down the highway, so she would know he wasn't taking her home right away.
"Now, suppose you tell me why you'd think something so wonderful as Rachel coming home to us would change the way my mom feels about you?"
"I'm nobody," she said sullenly. "Just someone your mom felt sorry for. She was feeling sad because of Rachel, and I guess she thought I could fill in."
"And she told you this?"
Rusty hesitated. "Um no."
"Maybe you overheard it."
Again she shook her head, scowling as she got where he was heading with this.
"Or maybe my mom's done something to make you think she's not very sincere and she enjoys jerking around teenage girls who are in trouble."
"You know she hasn't," Rusty muttered.
"Hmm, okay, well I'm out of guesses. Maybe you ought to just tell me. Guys can be slow."
She was silent for a long time as she studied her hands in her lap. "I just thought . . . I assumed that since Rachel was coming back that she wouldn't want me anymore."
Nathan reached over and took her hand, ignoring her flinch of surprise. "I understand why you might have felt that way. But one thing you need to understand is my mother's limitless capacity for caring. She taught school for years, and she can still tell you the names of every student who ever came through her classroom."
He gave a light chuckle. "For that matter, try being her youngest child with five older brothers. If anyone ought to feel left out and overlooked, you'd think it would be me. But somehow she manages to make every one of us feel special, like we're the only person in the world who matters to her. Don't get me wrong. She's not a pushover, and when she sets her mind to something, she's like an alligator with fresh meat."
Her lips trembled, and she pulled her hand away from his. "I'm not used to anyone giving a damn."
"Well, maybe it's time you got used to it," he said simply.
Her lips twisted again as apparently she roused her defenses. "What do you care? You and your brothers don't like me. You'd prefer I go anyway."
"This isn't about me or my brothers, so don't make it so. My mother cares about you. We don't know you. Are we concerned that you're taking advantage of our mother? Hell yeah. And you can bet we'll be watching your ass, and if you make one wrong step, we'll be on you like a duck on a June bug. But as long as you don't screw up, you don't have anything to worry about."
"Are you saying you want me to go back?" she asked suspiciously.
He sighed. "Quit twisting my words and buck up, Rusty. You're capable of making your own decisions and taking responsibility for them. If you want to go back, then quit wasting both our time and say the word. I'll take you home, no questions asked. If you don't want to go, then fine, but you're going to tell my mother that to her face instead of slinking off like an ungrateful coward."
Her mouth rounded in shock, and then unexpectedly she smiled, and it transformed her entire face. Replacing the sullen, defeated look was a young, vibrant girl who was actually quite pretty.
"I like people who don't lie and say it like it is."
Nathan chuckled. "Then you should get along with the Kelly clan just fine. Now, are we going home or not?"
A sparkle lit her eyes, and she looked . . . hopeful. Excited even. Then as suddenly as happiness had fired, the flame died and she looked apprehensively at him.
"Are you sure? I mean are you sure she wants me?"
He stared at her a long time and gave thanks that he had never had to feel unwanted in his life. "Yeah, Rusty. I'm sure."
CHAPTER 17
RACHEL eyed the house from the window of the SUV as Sam came to a stop in the circle drive. She waited for recognition to hit her, but she stared numbly as if it were someone else's house. Not her own.
It was a beautiful house, and she could certainly see it as a place she would have loved. A cypress log house with a rustic front porch complete with swing and potted ferns.
Ethan had told her that they didn't live very far from the lake.
"How long did we live here?" she whispered.
"Three years," Ethan replied. "We moved in right after our honeymoon."
She cocked her head to the side and stared curiously at him. "Where did we go on our honeymoon?"
He looked momentarily surprised and then he smiled, warmth flooding his eyes. "We went to Jamaica and spent a week on the beach. I don't think you ever wore much more than a bikini the entire time we were there."
A hot flush stole over her cheeks, and she ducked her head.
"Ready?" he asked solemnly.
She took a deep breath and nodded. He opened the door and stepped out and then reached back to offer her his hand. She slid her fingers into his, and let him pull her from the vehicle. Sam and Garrett had already gotten out and were standing in the walkway to the front door.
She didn't realize how badly she was shaking until Ethan wrapped an arm around her to steady her as they walked by his brothers.
"Do you want us to stay, Ethan?" Sam murmured.
Ethan paused at the steps to the front door and tightened his grip around her waist. "No, we'll be fine. Tell Mom I'll call her later."
"Okay, man. Let us know if you need anything." Sam slapped Ethan on the back and started back toward the truck.
Garrett hesitated a second then reached out to touch her shoulder. "Take care, sweet pea."
She wrenched away from Ethan and threw her arms around Garrett's waist. He stepped back in surprise but then curled his arms around her and returned her hug.
"You'll be back, won't you?" she whispered.
"I'll never be far," he murmured. "If you ever need me, I'll be here. Promise."
Reluctantly she freed herself from his embrace. Garrett smiled down at her and then turned to his brother.
"Holler if you need anything."
"We'll be fine," Ethan said softly.
Garrett ambled down the walk and climbed into the truck next to Sam. They both offered a wave as they drove away from the house.
"Okay?" Ethan asked as he turned to the door.
She stared up the steps, almost dreading what was inside. Why did it scare her so badly? Why was she such a coward?
"Let's do it," she said.
Ethan put the key into the lock and opened the door. Cool air blew over her face as they stepped inside. She braced herself for the surge of memories, but as she moved farther into the interior, she was only struck by the feeling of unfamiliarity.
Her hands crept up her arms and she rubbed absently as her gaze traveled the living room. It seemed so . . . quiet. Uncluttered. Still even. Calm was reflected in the decoration, from the piano catty-corner to the stone fireplace, to the framed art hanging on the walls.