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She grabbed her son and pushed him toward the door. The boy opened it and a soft swell of voices spilled outside. He ran inside, but the woman paused. She looked at Cain as if he had two heads.
“Aren’t you coming inside, then?”
Her abrupt tone kick-started him into action. Cain exhaled and followed in their footsteps.
The Edwards home boasted a grand foyer—the focal point, a massive centered staircase that led to the upper level. He took a second and glanced around.
The walls were no longer taupe and had been done over in pale, cool greens. The wood accents—the railing and trim—once oak, were now dark ebony, and the ceramic floors had been replaced with a funky hardwood. It was similar to what was in the house he’d shared with his ex-wife, but damned if he remembered what it was called.
Music wafted from the back of the house, and he assumed a good many people were gathered outside on the deck. It was the first week in June, so the weather was warm and the Edwardses’ yard was renowned for its landscaping, pool, tennis courts, and prime lake frontage.
It was the sweetest spot on Crystal Lake and one not many could afford.
There were quite a few folks talking quietly. He felt their interest. It was in the understated whispers and covert glances directed his way. Cain ran his hand over the day-old stubble that graced his chin and winced. Shit, he should have at least shaved.
The woman and little boy disappeared among the crowd, and he took a step forward, suddenly unsure of himself. He was surrounded by faces he recognized, yet he felt like an outsider. Again he fought the sliver of doubt.
Maybe he should have stayed away. Sent a card or a flower arrangement.
“Cain, you came.”
The whispered words melted his heart. Years fell away as he turned and gazed down into Marnie Edwards’s face. She was older, of course, her face fuller, with time etched into the lines around her eyes and mouth. Her dark hair was elegant, hitting the curve of her jaw in a blunt cut. She wore a smart black suit, with a dash of red in the scarf draped loosely about her neck.
Marnie opened her arms, and he grasped her small frame close to his. She trembled against him. “I knew you would.”
Grief welled inside him. Hard, like a fist turning in his chest. He couldn’t speak; his throat felt like it was clogged with sawdust. So he just held her, took her warmth and strength into his body, and closed his eyes.
“Cain, thank you for coming. It means a lot.”
Cain looked up, kept Marnie secure in his arms, and nodded to Steven Edwards. Pain shadowed the older man’s eyes, and Cain swallowed hard. “Sir, I tried to get here for the funeral, but…”
Steven Edwards nodded. “I know, son.”
“Jesse would be so happy to know you’re all together.” Marnie wiped her face and slipped from his embrace. “Mackenz
ie and Jacob are out back somewhere.” She crossed to her husband’s side. “You should go see them.”
“Is my mother…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to gain control over the emotions inside. “I tried to get hold of her earlier, but she didn’t pick up.”
Marnie smiled warmly. “She’s here somewhere, helping with the food, I think.” She glanced up at her husband. “It’s good now. We’re all home.” Marnie motioned toward the back of the house. “Go, the boys are waiting.”
Cain nodded and slipped through the small groups of people gathered in the hall. Muted voices and snatches of conversations followed him as he entered the kitchen and headed toward the patio doors. He recognized a lot of the faces, smiled, said hello, but didn’t stop to talk.
The deck was crowded, and conversation halted as he stepped outside. Hot sunlight filtered through the vine-heavy pergola overhead, and the scent of lilac filled the air. The bushes alongside the pool house had grown a lot. They were in fact twice the size he remembered and were full of fragrant white and soft purple-colored blooms.
His gaze wandered past the deck. There was no one here he wanted to talk to. Bradley Hayes, a classmate from back in the day, nodded and headed in his direction. They’d never been friends, and he sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to pretend.
Cain turned abruptly and took the stairs two at a time to the patio below.
He cleared the bottom step, grabbed a cold beer from the nearest waiter, and took a long, refreshing draw. He glanced out over the backyard as his hand absently wiped the corner of his mouth. The tight feeling in his gut pressed harder, and his skin was clammy.
Cain was used to being the focus of attention but this was different. These weren’t fans. They were old neighbors, teachers, acquaintances, and some he’d considered friends a long time ago.
Were they judging him? Was he the prodigal black sheep, returned?
He squared his shoulders. None of them were the reason he’d come back.
Two men caught his eye, and he moved methodically through the crowd of mourners, nodding to those who called greetings, yet his gaze never left the duo several feet away from everyone.
