A Place to Belong. Linda Goodnight
GI scratched the dog’s lowest lopsided ear. “I saw some damage on Unit 8.”
Jace squinted south toward the mentioned unit. Kitty’s motel was old but she kept it up. Rather, he did. Kitty worked around the place, too. She planted pretty flowers and kept everything sparkling clean. There was a long-term renter in Unit 8, and the regulars were the motel’s mainstay. “Yeah?”
“Shingles are off.”
“I’m nearly finished here. I’ll check it.”
“Got nothing else to do, huh? Lazy bum.”
Jace chuckled. GI knew better. He was swamped. Always was. He had three other jobs waiting, two in progress, and four more calls to bid before the week was out. He also had his own historic house to finish, an ongoing project for the last three years. He could see the end in sight, though, and was eager to see his dream home come to fruition.
All of them would have to wait though until the motel was taken care of. He felt a compulsion to help anytime Kitty called. He’d begun working on the motel to honor her dead hero husband. Lately he wondered if he’d do the work just for the privilege of seeing Kitty.
“You looking for a job?”
GI barked a laugh. “Jace Carter is a funny man. Well, me and Biscuit got some stops to make. You come on out to the house anytime. I got a new project going. Petunia and Popbottle will be happy to see you.”
“Petunia misses me?” Petunia was the resident watch-goat. Last time he’d stopped by to visit she’d eaten his ball cap. The time before she’d nibbled some paint off his truck.
“The old girl loves you, Jace Carter. Bring her a snack anytime.”
Jace raised a hand as the eccentric old man shuffled away, lopsided dog at his heel.
He worked for another thirty minutes before checking the damage on Unit 8. Sure enough, a half-dozen shingles were missing. With a sigh, he headed toward Kitty’s office to let her know.
He didn’t particularly like entering the motel office, but he’d been there plenty of times. He stepped inside, heard the bell overhead jingle merrily, and looked around at the memorial to a man a hundred times better than he was.
Decorated in patriotic colors of red, white, and blue and smelling of flowers, the room was jammed with Americana and military memorabilia. A display case boasted bobblehead soldiers and eagle-topped pens. The walls were plastered with photos, including Uncle Sam who never tired of wanting someone. The pointing finger made him feel guilty.
If he’d been a man, he would have joined the army and fought for his country instead of wasting his youth in trouble.
A tri-folded American flag rested on an enclosed shelf on the wall behind the display. Given the photo of the serious-faced soldier next to it, Jace had long ago surmised the flag had been the one given to Kitty at Dave Wainright’s military funeral.
He nodded to the photo, offering his respect and waited for Kitty to hear the bell and come out.
Behind the inner office was the tidy cottage Kitty called home. He’d been inside plenty of times, mostly to discuss repairs of one kind or another, and he’d attended her Bible study on occasion. He’d stopped going to that out of guilt. He had trouble keeping his mind on the Lord with Kitty present and with the memories of her dead husband all around.
He waited, hat in hand, in the outer office. He’d learned patience the hard way, and waiting no longer bothered him.
“Jace, come on back.” She rounded the doorframe leading into the back with her usual sunny cheer. All smiles and smelling of roses like the rest of the place, Kitty motioned to him. “Did you finish the roof? I have a check for you on my desk.”
He stepped around the display case, avoiding Uncle Sam’s stare. “I didn’t come for that.”
“No?” She paused next to Dave Wainright’s flag.
“There’s damage on Unit 8.”
She made a small sound of dismay and bunched her shoulders. She was so cute when she did that. “Can you fix it?”
“Sure.” He smiled, wanting to reassure her. “No worries.”
Her smile returned, lighting him up inside. “Worry’s a sin.”
Right. And he was a sinner.
Kitty laughed, a merry sound like wind chimes. “I have trouble with that one.”
“Me, too,” he admitted, feeling ridiculously pleased to share such a thing with her. Fact of the matter was, he worried all the time. Though over the years he’d begun to feel safe, a man in his shoes knew not to get too comfortable or too close.
“I’m glad you came in. There’s a man in my office who wants to see you.”
“Someone needing a remodel?” It happened all the time. He’d be working on one project and someone would stop in and ask him to look at another.
Before she could answer, they stepped into the inner office. The skinny man he’d seen from a distance rose from a chair and turned toward him with a toothy smile.
“Well, there you are. The famous Jace Carter.”
All the blood drained from Jace’s head. His ears roared and he thought he might pass out, something he’d never done. Not even when he’d been bleeding to death on a cold concrete floor.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked, prayed he was wrong.
He wasn’t.
Fourteen years of clean living fell away as he stared into the face of Donny Babcock. A face he’d tried to forget. From a past that had finally caught up with him.
Chapter Three
Somehow Jace managed to shake Donny’s outstretched hand. The skin was soft, a clear indication that Donny wasn’t doing any manual labor. Donny had always been good at other things besides real work.
“Remember me, old buddy? Donny Babcock?” The toothy grin shone at Kitty in explanation. “Me and Jace go way back. He’s surprised to see me after all this time.”
A real understatement.
Jace struggled for composure, careful not to reveal too much or to alert Kitty to his discomfort. He stood like a robot, unaffected on the exterior, writhing inside. Dread, deeper than the Redemption well, seeped into his cells.
“A real surprise,” he managed.
Donny slapped Jace’s shoulder and laughed. The slap was a reminder of what lay beneath his shirt and of the past he shared with Donny Babcock.
“Saw you on TV, Jace old pal. You’re famous. A real hero from the sound of it.”
Jace regretted every minute on that bridge with TV cameras rolling around him. He wanted to ask straight out what Babcock was doing in Redemption, but he couldn’t. Not with Kitty in the room.
“Just doing what neighbors do,” he said. “For what little good it did.”
“I heard they never found the body.” Donny pulled a long face. “Poor man.” He glanced at Kitty. “Such a tragedy.”
The words were insincere enough that Jace cringed. Kitty didn’t seem to notice. She nodded, one hand against her heart in empathy. “I know.”
“What brings you to Redemption, Donny?”
“You, Jace old buddy. Well, that and business. I’m in real estate investments now and this area has some interesting possibilities.”
“Someone in town told him you might be here,” Kitty injected. “Can I get the two of you a soda? Or some tea?”
“Sweet tea from a sweet lady sounds mighty refreshing.” Donny dazzled