Chapter 4
Ian followedhis mama into the house she'd bought a few years ago. He had to admit is was much more modern that the house he'd grown up in out in the county. With a pang, he looked around and realize he didn't recognize one thing in this house other than photographs.
Catching his look, she said, "I couldn’t live out at the old place after you left, Ian. Too many memories. Good memories. But lonesome, all the same, with your daddy gone and me sitting around remembering him too much."
He nodded. He could understand the power of memories. He'd been sixteen when daddy died. Memories could help you with grief, but they could drag you under, too.
"When I started making enough from being a real estate agent to afford a new house, I knew I had to buy a new home closer in to town where I could walk to things and be more of a part of things. There's a room in this house reserved for you. But --" She paused, then went to open a kitchen drawer. Something jangled in her hand as she turned back to him. "I want you to have these."
At his questioning look, she went on. "They're the keys to the old home place. I couldn't bring myself to sell it. I always hoped, deep down, you'd come on back home someday. So I kept it for you." She held out the cluster of keys.
He didn't know what to say. He wasn't here for good. He hated lying to her like this. Not telling her he was only here to protect Matt MacKenzie. But the keys called to him, so he reached out and took them gently from her outstretch hand. "I can't make you any promises, Mama."
She nodded.
"Ian." She said quietly. "I feel like there's something you're holding back on me, son."
As he opened his mouth to protest, she held up a hand to stop him.
"I'm sure you've got a very good reason. But I want you to know that I'll support anything you're doing and there's no need to lie to me."
He shuffled his feet.
"I'm happy you didn't sell the old place, Mama." He pocketed the keys. "If it's alright with you, I'll stay here with you while I'm in town. But I'll go out there while I'm here. To remember Daddy and the old times, too."
Tears gleamed briefly in her eyes before she turned away. His gut pinched to see them.
"That's good news, Ian. I'm glad you want to go out there. You can make sure everything's in good shape. I have somebody keeping an eye on it for me, but you know how that can be. They don't see the things we do when we look at it."
She got an iron skillet out of the cabinet. "I know we just ate, but I think I'll make a blackberry cobbler for later."
He hugged her, grateful she hadn't pushed more for answers.
"Thanks, Mama. That'd be great. I think I'll run out there now. If you don't mind."
"Not at all." She shooed him with her hand. "Go on."
He strode toward the front door, leaving his duffle bag on the living room floor for now.
"Ian," his mama called from behind him.
He paused, turned his head to look at her.
"The crop duster is still in the shed out back." She smiled. "I know how much that beat up old plane always meant to you."
His hand went to the pocket of his jeans, reassuring himself that the rabbit-foot keychain was there. The keychain that held the key to the crop duster his daddy had taught him to fly and where his dream of being a Navy fighter pilot had been born.
His good luck charm – except for that day in Afghanistan.
The dogfight that had caused a burst eardrum that had clipped his wings forever. He'd managed to land the super hornet plane, but that'd been his last time in the air. Not long after, he'd gotten the final word from the doctor. No more high altitude flying for Ian Elliott. And so he'd left the Navy. He couldn't spend his life aboard aircraft carriers watching with a jealous heart as the others flew.
Thank goodness Hank Patterson from the Brotherhood Protectors had found him and offered him a new life with other vets in Montana.
