When I Fall in Love Page 28

  He drove up to the house, turned off the car, and got out.

  The rush of wind in the trees, the faintest sound of bullfrogs along the shore, the rich fragrance of pine swept over him, an attempt to calm his racing heart.

  But there in the driveway sat his brother’s economy Nissan. And beside it, his uncle Norm’s old truck.

  His uncle wouldn’t have . . .

  But Uncle Norm had experienced the devastation of watching his siblings’ disease advance through them, destroying them from the inside out. Dealt with the aftermath, filling in the gaps their deaths left behind.

  Yeah, maybe.

  Max went in the side door, flicked on the light. It bathed the kitchen and the main room that overlooked the lake.

  “Brendon!” His voice boomed through the house and carried the edge of panic cultivated during the five-hour drive. “Where are you?”

  He cut through the kitchen, down the hall. “Brendon!”

  “Sheesh, you’re going to wake all of Wisconsin! What’s going on?” Brendon appeared at the door to one of the guest rooms, bare-chested, wearing a pair of pajama pants, his hair askew. “Is Lizzy okay?” He braced his arm on the jamb, blinking into the light.

  Max didn’t know whether to hug him or deck him. Instead he turned and hit the wall, everything inside him spilling out hard and fast.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay!” Max rounded on him. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

  Brendon held up a hand. “Chill, Bro. It never rang. You know we get spotty service out here—”

  Max let out a blue word, something that brought his uncle Norm to his door. “Max!”

  He turned to his uncle, still hot. “Uncle Norm, seriously—Brendon takes off, leaves a note for Lizzy saying he’s gone fishing, and—”

  “And we’re fishing, son. You should see the freezer. Brendon landed an eight-pound walleye.”

  Max wanted to hit something again as he stared at his uncle, his brother. But he turned away, stalking down the hall, his hand to his head.

  He sank into the old recliner, scraping his hands down his face. Fishing. He could still taste his heart in his mouth, despite his efforts to swallow it down.

  He heard the floor creak and looked up to find the duo staring at him like he might be the crazy one.

  Then the realization clicked on Brendon’s face. “Oh . . . wow,” he said, sinking onto the tweed sofa. “You thought . . .”

  “What was I supposed to think?” Max might never flush the anger from his voice at this decibel. He took a breath, schooled it into something less threatening. Something that contained the horror he felt. “Lizzy told me about the tests.”

  Brendon flinched one eye and looked away.

  His uncle sat next to him on the sofa. “What tests?”

  Max shook his head, wishing it all away. Wishing he’d had the courage to stand beside his big brother and raise the money to fight this. Wishing his mom didn’t have to go through this again. Wishing . . .

  Wishing he were back with Grace, caught in a place where he could forget . . . or at least hang on to someone a little stronger than himself.

  And there she was, her words in his head. I want more out of life than just . . . just staying where my fears trap me. I want to know all that God has for me—His love, His power, His grace.

  Yeah, he wanted it too. More than wanted it—he hungered for it.

  Grace. Power. Especially courage.

  Uncle Norm turned to Brendon. “How bad is it?”

  Brendon’s hands shook and he stretched them out, swallowed. “It’s bad. It’s progressing faster than I’d—we’d hoped. But it’s not so bad that you needed to drive here, Max, and stop me from . . .” He shook his head. “I love Lizzy and Ava and I want every second I can have with them. I’m not going to do it.”

  “Do what?” Uncle Norm asked.

  Max took a breath. He couldn’t—

  “We made a pact after Dad died,” Brendon said softly. “It was stupid, my idea. But I was scared and angry and . . .”

  “We agreed to help each other end our lives once we started showing symptoms,” Max said quietly. “Either by not stopping each other or . . . assisting.” Now he couldn’t look at his uncle, at the disbelief, the horror on his face. “I’m sorry, Uncle Norm. But you don’t know what it’s like, looking ahead, knowing—”

  “Yeah, I do, son. Your dad came to me when you were born. He told me how, when he married your mother, he told her he had the gene. She knew she’d lose him, and she married him anyway. That took him apart, but he lived with the specter of the disease so far out in front of him, he didn’t consider how it might touch him until you were born, Max. See, they planned Brendon. And then they found out he had the faulty gene, and they vowed not to have another child. Suddenly it became real, and your dad started to panic. He started to think like you, and the idea of him suffering and then passing that along to his son undid him. He went through a terrible darkness.”

  Uncle Norm shook his head. “I feared for his life. And then . . . then you came along. Surprise.”

  Max knew that, had resigned himself to the fact that he was a mistake. His entire life from beginning to end—worthless.

  “But that’s when everything changed. Having you is what kept your father sane as long as it did. He was already showing signs of the disease when your mother got pregnant, and then you were born and something changed inside him. You were a gift to him during his darkest moments and a gift that your mother held on to long after he left this earth.” He smiled as if caught in memory. “Oh, how he loved to watch you play hockey. He’d call me and we’d go to your games.”

  “He used to go to my practices. I remember him sitting there in the bleachers, early in the morning, wrapped in a blanket, shivering.”

  “He wanted to capture every moment with you, just like he had with Brendon. You made his life rich, right up to the end. And it made him realize that any life, no matter how short or long, was worth living.”

  Now Max’s eyes burned. “I don’t understand a God who would give life, only to have us suffer. It’s not fair.”

  “Everyone dies. It’s a surety. You could die tomorrow, and despite the horror of this disease, the days of health are that much more precious because we know what lies ahead.” His uncle’s voice thickened. “I miss my brother every single day. Frankly, sometimes I feel like it’s unfair that out of all my siblings, I’m the one who escaped. We all suffer with this disease. But suffering can either destroy you or it can save you. Because without suffering, we don’t need more; we have enough. But when we suffer, we can’t help but reach out. It forces us into God’s arms, and that’s where we find not only what we need, but more than we can imagine. We find Him.”

  He clamped a hand on Brendon’s shoulder, squeezed. “Your dad discovered this, and you will too, Brendon.” His eyes glistened. “And I will too, all over again.”

  Max couldn’t bear it. He looked away, clenched his jaw.

  “Your dad loved being married to your mother, Max. She was joy in his life, and she told me at his funeral that it gave her joy to walk her husband into the arms of heaven. It’s the greatest privilege a spouse can have.”

  Brendon cupped his hand over his eyes. His shoulders shook.

  “You will make it through this, boys. Your mother raised strong men, knowing you’d have to have the courage of your father. And you will, if you don’t let the suffering steal the richness of living. Focus on life.”

  Max got up, went to the window, stared out at the lake. The sky arched above it, starlight dappling the water’s surface like tiny eyes cast into the darkness.

  Focus on life. That’s what Grace had done for him. Helped him see life, embrace life. Want life.

  And maybe if he hung on to that, God just might help him—and Grace—face death.

  Brendon came up behind him. “Let’s make a new pact.”

  Max turned.

  “L
et’s end well.” Brendon stuck out his hand.

  Max ignored it, pulling Brendon into an embrace. “You got it.” He blinked, turned away, ran his palm across his cheek.

  His uncle rose from the sofa. “Now if it’s all right with you, I need some shut-eye if I’m going to face the fish at 5 a.m.” He ruffled Max’s hair as if he were ten years old. “I think there’s a walleye with your name on it.”

  Max laughed, but . . . wait. “Oh no. I have a wedding to put on.”

  Both Brendon and his uncle stared at him.

  “Okay, long story, but I promised Grace that I’d help her cater her sister’s wedding, and she’s counting on me.”

  “Grace?” Uncle Norm asked.

  “Grace,” Brendon said. “You know . . . Grace.”

  “Right. The salt-in-the-mousse girl.”

  Oh . . . “Actually, that was me. I sabotaged the competition because I—”

  “Didn’t want to go public. I wondered about that, but I realized I shouldn’t have been pressuring you.”

  “Except you were right. I shouldn’t let fear keep me from doing what’s right.”

  “Only when you’re ready, Max,” Brendon said. “But more importantly . . . Grace? Are you two together?”

  “Not if I don’t get back for this wedding.”

  STREAMS OF PINK AND LAVENDER ribboned across a cirrus cloud–streaked sky, the melody of sparrows outside the window lifting in the summer breeze. The sunrise heralded a beautiful wedding day for Eden and Jace.

  Except that Grace’s assistant had vanished.

  With Grace’s car. And Eden had left early to eat breakfast with Ingrid.

  Which meant Grace had to find a ride to the reception venue.

  Max wasn’t answering his phone, so she hung up after the third ring, feeling foolish. Needy. He was probably already at the venue putting the pig on the grill.

  She called Casper. He sounded ragged around the edges but picked her up on his bike thirty minutes later and ran her over to the warehouse. He hadn’t shaved, wore a black T-shirt and jeans, and looked like he’d spent the night staring out the window, his eyes rimmed with red.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as she climbed off the back of the bike. She reached out to him, but he forced a smile. Oh, Casper. He just couldn’t let anyone see that far inside.

  “I’ll be back later. You need anything?”

  “Maybe a ride to the wedding? I don’t see my car anywhere.” She frowned. Neither did she see Max’s Audi. “You haven’t heard from Raina, have you? I thought she’d be here.”

  “No,” he snapped. “Sorry. I have no idea where she might be.” He revved his engine. “Try Owen.”

  Owen? “He’s in town? Why didn’t he show up at the rehearsal?” And what did that have to do with Raina?

  Casper had a grim set to his mouth. “Why does Owen do—or not do—anything? Do you know if Raina and Owen ever . . . ?” He swallowed, his jaw tight.

  “Casper?”

  “Nothing. I can’t even think it. I’ll be back later.”

  She had the urge to run after him, to stop another moment when she saw someone she loved driving away, not returning. She was clearly letting her fears bleed into her imagination.

  Grace made her way to the kitchen and found the staff busy with their assigned tasks. One crew brandished knives, cutting the fruit kebabs, while a small cadre of chefs assembled the salads, covering them with cellophane and setting them back in the cooler. She found Ty talking with the cake decorator, a pretty blonde about her mother’s age whose team was delivering the cake sections in boxes.

  “Where’s Raina?” she asked.

  “Dunno,” Ty said. “I thought she’d be here. We still need to get the pig on the grill.”

  “Max isn’t here either?”

  Ty shook his head. She stifled the spear of panic. No problem. He’d be here—he wouldn’t let her down, not for this.

  “Okay, let’s get the pig on the grill.” Grace donned her chef’s coat, tied her hair into a net, and worked on a pair of rubber gloves while Ty directed the cake lady to the table in the meeting area. She stepped outside and called an assistant over, a girl with long black hair caught up in a net. “Can you get the coals cooking?”

  “Yes, chef.”

  Yes, chef? Okay.

  Back inside, she went to the cooler. “Ty, I need your football muscles.”

  The animal hung from its haunches, and she put her back into it as she lifted the pig’s front. Ty unhooked it from the rack, and together they carried it to the stainless counter.

  A few of the student chefs came to admire the animal.

  “How many people will this pig feed?”

  “About eighty. It’s over 125 pounds, so I think it’s enough.”

  Grace had made the injection fluid last night—apple cider, apple juice, and water. Now she took the needle, filled it with juice, and bent over the body. Working in the hindquarter area, she injected the meat just under the skin, then began working her way around the body.

  She’d attracted a small crowd. It felt a little awkward to be helming a crew of culinary students—especially since she hadn’t actually attended culinary school—but she didn’t betray her secret.

  Or failure. Although she’d stopped thinking about it.

  In fact, she hadn’t felt like a failure since Hawaii. Since Max had helped her believe in herself.

  She massaged oil into the pig’s body, head to toe. “This helps keep the skin color even, will crisp it up.”

  Weird, now she felt like she might actually be teaching.

  She glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes had passed, and if she didn’t get the pig cooking soon, they’d have to stall Eden’s wedding.

  “Ty, let’s get this animal on the grill.” She took the front hooves, Ty grabbed the back, and they lifted it onto the portable grate one of the students had brought in from the cooker.

  She seasoned the animal with sea salt, granulated garlic, black pepper. “What’s the temperature?”

  “It’s 225,” her grill chef answered as she stirred the coals with a shovel, evening them out.

  “Add some of that hickory wood,” Grace said, gesturing to the bundle by the door. The grill chef replaced the drip pan and set a bucket under the spigot that would collect the runoff grease.

  “Ready?” she asked Ty, and he nodded. They carried the dressed pig on the grill grate outside, set it on top of the drip pan. Closed the lid.

  She looked at the grill chef. “What’s your name?”

  “Aliya,” she said, her smile eager.

  “You’re on pig temperature patrol. Every few minutes, I want you to come out and check the temperature of the grill. It should hover between 225 and 250. If the heat is too high, open these dampers here. If it’s too low, close them. Got it?”

  “Yes, chef.”

  Surreal.

  But even more surreal was the fact that, as she went inside to check on the kitchen progress, neither Max nor Raina had shown up.

  Grace stood in the kitchen, ticking off her to-do list. Cake, check. Fruit kebabs, check. Pig, grilling. Salad, in the cooler. Vegetables . . . “Ty, where are we with the vegetables?”

  “I’ll get them oiled and on the baking trays.”

  So maybe she didn’t need Max. Still—

  She pulled out her phone. Checked for messages. Nothing. She found his number, debated for a second, pressed Send.

  It rolled over to voice mail. Like he didn’t even have it on.

  Without Max and Raina, she still had the Hawaiian bread to make, not to mention the citrus sauce for the pork.

  “Grace! What are you doing? We’re supposed to be at the hairdresser.” Eden came barreling into the kitchen. She wore a yellow T-shirt, a pair of athletic pants. “We gotta go!”

  Behind her trailed Amelia and Ingrid. Except both of them had stopped in the main room, caught in the fairyland.

  Raina deserved to be here for this.

  In truth, G
race was starting to get worried. “You haven’t seen Raina, have you?”

  “I saw Raina last night.” Owen came into the kitchen looking tan and fit, wearing a Jude County Hotshots T-shirt and baggy jeans. He still wore the eye patch, hiding his scars. Probably for confidence more than necessity. “Hey, Sis!” He pulled her into a hug. “It smells great.”

  “Except I’m missing my kitchen help.”

  “When I saw her last night, she was upset. Casper was here, so maybe he could tell you what was going on. Maybe she burned something.” He lifted a shoulder.

  Or maybe she and Casper had finally had the talk. Poor Casper. No wonder Raina vanished. Although not showing up for work felt extreme.

  “Hey, where’s the party?” Jace’s voice echoed through the warehouse.

  “Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?” Owen said. He went out to run interference.

  “Grace, is everything under control?” Eden was clearly unconcerned about Jace’s presence but must have read her face.

  “I think so, but . . . well, Max took off last night, and I don’t know where he is.”

  “Max isn’t here? Isn’t he supposed to be in charge for the day?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “But nothing. He should be here! I can’t believe he is doing this again. Ditching you when you, when we—” Eden gestured to Grace, back to herself—“need him.” She shook her head. “You were right, Grace. Maybe you didn’t need him after all. I mean, look at this. You have everything under control.”

  “I wouldn’t have, without Max. But yes, Ty can handle everything, right?”

  Ty wore a wide-eyed, pale expression.

  Ho-kay.

  “We need Max. And Raina. I cannot believe they both abandoned you,” Eden said.

  To put it like that . . .

  “Max didn’t abandon you. He had his reasons.” Jace appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Sorry, Sis. He still thinks he can push me around,” Owen said, but he wore a smile.

  “What reasons?” Eden said. “What possible reason could Max have to take off and leave Grace today of all days?”

  Jace’s voice cut to low. “Eden, trust me on this—”

  “Max? As in Max Sharpe?” Owen’s voice sliced through the conversation.