Some Bright Someday (Maple Valley #2) - Melissa Tagg Page 0,65

So he did.” The air in the truck went stagnant. “He died last year. Tanker accident.”

Any self-assurance Lucas had felt only a moment ago extinguished now, except for the undeniable knowing that nothing he could say would be adequate. It wouldn’t—didn’t—matter to Noah that his friend had made his own decisions. That Noah hadn’t started the war or caused the tanker accident or even issued the order that had Abed in just the wrong place at just the wrong time.

Logic was no cure for guilt that deep. Shame that painful.

“And you know where I was while Abed was getting smashed? In a freakin’ sick bay with the stomach flu and somehow, don’t ask me how, a doctor thought he picked up on a heart murmur while I was there and next thing I know, I’m being shipped back home. Turns out the heart thing isn’t even a big deal, but I was medically discharged anyway.”

Lucas’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Noah, I wish . . .” That he knew how to react. What to say. “I wish you hadn’t had to go through any of that. I wish Abed hadn’t.”

“Yeah, well, the world’s a crappy place sometimes.”

He knew that. He really knew it.

But he also knew there was good. There were cold swims that calmed stormy minds. There was hard, satisfying work on a sunny day. There was family—Kit and Beckett and his friends that might not be related by blood but were bound by connection. There was Bridgewell. There was autumn.

There was a God that had talked to him once. Who maybe would again if he could remember how to listen.

There was a beautiful woman with a big heart who, at the drop of a hat, would open a home she hadn’t even wanted to three children she’d never even met.

“So.” He took a breath. Hoped this was the right question. “What kind of trouble did you and Abed get in?”

At least it didn’t seem to be the wrong question. Because a hint of light landed in Noah’s eyes. “You ever hear of cow-tipping?”

He looked over with a smirk. “I grew up in Iowa. What do you think? But you don’t get expelled from school for that.”

“You do when the farmer also happens to be the president of the school board. And he, like, really loved his cows.”

“What we know is that Dustin Hollis was fired from his latest trucking job over a month ago. He left his apartment without paying rent three weeks back. And whether he even knows Tessa died this summer . . . it’s anybody’s guess.” Carmen reached for a second chocolate chip cookie from the plate in the middle of the sunroom table. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“Your arrival had good timing.” Jenessa cupped her hands around a mug of tea. “I was just pulling them out of the oven.”

If the calendar hadn’t assured her that fall was in full swing, the wind hurling itself against the house and the rattle of the sunroom windows would convince her now. She’d insisted Colie button up her denim jacket this morning and had sent Violet to kindergarten with an extra sweater for over her My Little Pony t-shirt.

Truthfully, making cookies had not been on her agenda for the day—at least not until Colie and Violet got home from school. They’d taken the bus today and should be home soon.

If only Carmen had waited an extra day to call and announce she was making a home visit. Jenessa had been forced to wake up Cade from his nap in the portable crib she’d set up in her office and had left Paige with a half-proofed paper.

She’d made it back to Belville Park just in time to throw some store-bought cookie dough in the oven and do a fast sweep of the house before Carmen arrived. And Cade had fallen back asleep in his crib upstairs easily enough.

This was normal, apparently—unscheduled home visits. Carmen had made it sound like the fact that she’d received a heads-up call in the first place was a favor.

“So what’s the next step?”

“In finding the father? We leave that up to the police. Apparently he’s not been using a credit card and the last number they can find for him isn’t in service anymore, but the police have his license plate number. It’s bound to show up on a traffic cam or something soon.” Carmen tore her cookie in half and ate a bite. “As for the kids, well, I have