Page 10 of Walking on Broken Paths

Chapter Eight

The following week, Parker was back at Coffee Beans and Things, screening emails from the agency requesting another partial rewrite of the letter for the Queen Elizabeth Hospital.

He clearly wasn’t built to write fundraising letters, but for now it paid the bills until Willis Dinner Cruises found its way out of the red.

He’d paid the docking fees out of his own savings since there was a deadline on those. His vendors, by contrast, were allowing him to slowly chip away at his bills due to his extenuating circumstances—and out of respect for his dad, who they’d all had a good working relationship with.

That had been Dad, though. He was just.

.. nice. All the time. He remembered his vendors’ birthdays, anniversaries, kids’ names, schools the kids attended, and which ones played soccer or were on the swim team or were into crafts.

He’d genuinely enjoyed getting to know people, and he’d had the kind of personality that drew people to him.

Joyful, sincere, and content. That had been Dad.

He should’ve had many more years to beguile other people with his joy.

Parker was convinced that everyone Dad had ever known had been at his celebration of life. He had a feeling they’d all be at his burial later this week too, even though Parker had told them it wasn’t necessary to attend.

Agata refilled his mug and slid a plate onto his table.

Distracted from his thoughts, he blinked at the strawberry tart. “Did I order this and forget?”

Agata snorted a laugh. “No. But you looked like you needed it.”

He gave her a smile he didn’t feel. “Thanks.”

As she went back behind the counter, he forked a bite of the tart and clicked on the email from his contact at the agency.

The hospital wanted more emotion.

Fuck.

Hadn’t he done that in the first place? Apparently, it hadn’t been enough. But it was hard to write a four-page solicitation letter when he could get the message across in four sentences.

Dear Super Nice Donor,

Nameless Patient was able to get the lifesaving experimental treatment he needed thanks to generous donations from people like you, and now he has many more years to enjoy life and parent his two kids.

Donate today to keep saving lives.

Yours truly,

Insert Employee Name Here

Huh. Technically, that was only two sentences if one didn’t count the salutation and sign-off.

He was tempted to click over to his personal project and give it some love for the first time in too long to count. Instead, he found himself typing grief counselling into a search bar.

Parker didn’t think he needed counselling, but that probably meant that he did . Wasn’t it always the people who needed it the most who were the last to realize it?

Or maybe he was making shit up. What did he know?

He was about to amend his search to grief counselling PEI when someone sat across from him.

Surprise turned into pleasure, and he smiled at his new tablemate. A real smile, not the pathetic excuse he’d given Agata. “Hey, Mrs. Melnik. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you through the window and thought I’d come say hi.

” Her smile was pure warmth, and it made his chest ache for parental affection.

With his dad gone and his mom in Manitoba with the man she’d married shortly after she and Dad divorced when he was a kid, sometimes Parker felt like a wayward duckling looking for its way home.

“You look very studious behind that computer.” Jesse’s mom flicked her bangs out of her eyes. “Am I interrupting?”

“It’s nothing that I can’t pick up later.” He closed the laptop and pushed the strawberry tart to the middle of the table. “Want some of this? I can get you a fork.”

“Oh no, dear, I can’t stay long—I’ve got plants in the truck that need to get home and in the ground. I just wanted to say hello.” She gave his wrist a squeeze and nodded at his shopping bag. It sat on the chair adjacent to him, paint cans visible. “Are you repainting your dad’s house?”

“No. Jesse’s. His living room, anyway, once we get the floors in. He wanted a boring shade of white or off-white or light grey, but I convinced him to go with the Sunny Veranda yellow.”

Mrs. Melnik’s brow furrowed, her blond eyebrows pulling together. “You’re... repainting Jesse’s house?”

“His living room,” Parker corrected. “We’ll get to the rest of the house eventually. I’m thinking a shade of light brown for the kitchen to make it feel homey.”

Mrs. Melnik opened her mouth and closed it again without saying anything.

Sitting back in her chair, she regarded him for a moment, her crow’s feet pronounced and her expression sitting somewhere between what the fuck and I couldn’t possibly have heard right .

“Pardon me if this is a stupid question, but... wouldn’t it be easier to buy paint in Vancouver? ”

“Oh no,” Parker said with a laugh. “It’s not for his Vancouver house. It’s for the one on Gerald Street.”

“ Gerald Street?”

“Yeah. Near Olebar Park?”

“Yes, I know where it is,” she practically snapped. “Jesse has a house here ?”

“Um...”

Oh no. Oh shit. Had she not known?

Had Jesse not told her?

Why the fuck not?

And how did Parker get himself out of this mess?

Before he could figure that out, Mrs. Melnik rose and smoothed her T-shirt down, the movement deliberate, as though the fidgeting was preventing her from wringing someone’s neck.

His or Jesse’s, Parker couldn’t say.

“Gerald Street, you say?” Her voice was much too pleasant.

Goosebumps broke out on his arms. Nothing good ever came of that calculated tone from a mom. “Um... yes?”

“House number?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Sixty-five.”

“Thank you.” She sniffed. “Have a good day, Parker.” Shoulders squared and head held high, she exited the coffee shop, leaving Parker with a lot of questions.

* * *

Sitting on the top step of his front porch under the summer sun, Jesse browsed DIY blogs on his phone. Everything he’d read said that once the walls were prepped for painting, it was better to lay down the flooring before painting the walls.

Cool. But how did one install hardwood flooring?

Thankfully, there was a seven-minute YouTube video called How to Install Hardwood Flooring for Beginners .

He’d gotten flooring called click lock, which essentially meant that each piece of flooring would click into its neighbour, making for simple installation.

But Jesse was sure there were steps he was missing between buying the hardwood and installing it.

The lady in the video was talking about something called chalk line and underlayment.

The fuck were those?

He was googling the first when a car pulled into his driveway. He perked up momentarily, the sensation in his stomach not unlike that of a swinging pendulum, but it wasn’t Parker.

It was his mom.

And she didn’t look happy.

How was she here? Was it simply bad luck that he’d been sitting on his front porch as she’d driven past and she’d spotted him out the window?

Talk about timing.

She got out of the car, and her glower reminded him of that time he and Parker had accidentally murdered the baby plants.

Now, as then, he sent her a bright smile. “Hey, Mom.”

She didn’t smile back. Not even a little twitch of the lips. Just stood at the bottom of his steps and planted her hands on her hips. “You bought a house.”

So much for passing this off as his Airbnb. “Uh...”

“Parker told me. I gather he didn’t realize I didn’t know. Why didn’t I know, Jesse?”

Parker. That made more sense than a chance drive-by. But why hadn’t the asshole told him?

Oh wait. There was a missed text on his phone. It must’ve come in as he’d been watching the video.

Parker:

Brace yourself. Your mom’s on her way. Sorry. I thought she knew.

“Are you moving back,” Mom asked. Although, given the lack of inflection, it was more of a demand.

Jesse winced. This was precisely the reason he hadn’t told his parents about the house.

“No,” he said firmly. He had no desire to move back here, though he didn’t voice that thought out loud.

And it wasn’t because everything about this province reminded him of Mikey.

Truth was, he liked it in Vancouver. There was much more opportunity there than here.

“So you bought a house because...” Mom waited for him to finish her sentence.

“It’s a fixer-upper. So I’m fixing her up. Something for me to do this summer.”

Belatedly, it occurred to him that he could’ve put in some calls to local hockey organizations and sports camps to see if anyone needed volunteers for the next couple of months. Too bad he hadn’t thought of that sooner.

Mom looked confused as hell. “Okay, but...” Her arms dropped to her sides. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why keep it a secret?”

Setting his phone aside, Jesse let out a breath. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

She rolled her eyes, which... fair. It was a lame-ass excuse. But he’d disappointed his parents so many times in the past—chiefly, by fleeing after Mikey’s death and then never once returning home until now—that he hadn’t wanted to add another disappointment to their list.

“You could’ve just said, ‘Hey, Mom, Dad, I bought a house I plan on fixing up this summer before I...’ Before you what? Sell it? Lease it? Keep it as a base for when you do visit? Assuming you come back.” That last was said in a mutter, but Jesse caught it anyway.

Chest squeezing like someone’s fist was clamped around it, he said, “I will be back.” She didn’t look like she believed him, but that was fine.

He’d prove it by doing exactly that—returning more often.

“And I thought I’d rent it for cheap once it’s fixed up.

Maybe to college or university students, or perhaps to a young family looking for their first home.

I don’t need the rent money, so I can afford to lease it for less than what this kind of house would usually go for. ”

Her face softened. She climbed the steps and sat next to him. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. It was less thoughtful and more his way of giving back. Of redeeming himself. Of making amends to the world—and to Mikey’s memory—by doing what little he could to make someone else’s life a touch better.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

She hummed. “Guess it’s lucky I bumped into Parker at Coffee Beans and Things.”

Jesse squinted against the sun. “What’s Coffee Beans and Things?”

“A coffee shop downtown. Been there about... oh, maybe eight or nine years now.”

“And what does ‘and Things’ refer to?”

“Oh, you know.” Mom waved a hand, but no, Jesse didn’t know seeing as he’d never been there. “They sell all sorts of things. Cheeky mugs, French presses, manual coffee grinders, coffee beans and ground coffee. Those sorts of things .”

“What was Parker doing there?” Parker had told him that he did some freelance copywriting when he wasn’t chartering a dinner cruise or dealing with the business side of things. Jesse had assumed he worked from home—or, rather, his dad’s—so maybe he’d been taking a coffee break?

“Looked like he was working,” Mom said. “Had his laptop with him. Mostly he was frowning at his screen, though.”

Parker didn’t talk about his work much—the writing or the dinner cruises. He didn’t talk about his dad much either. And although Jesse had told Dr. Ippolito that Parker seemed to be doing okay, it was the seemed to that he didn’t quite trust.

What was really going on with Parker underneath the smiles and laughter?

Mom threaded her arm around Jesse’s elbow and patted his hand. “You’ve got a quick trip to Toronto next week, don’t you? To see your friend’s play?”

“Yeah. I’ll be gone Wednesday through Friday.” Mikey’s memorial was the Sunday before.

Was it bad that Jesse had briefly thought about leaving for Toronto just a few days earlier so he could skip the memorial?

He hated himself for even thinking it, but he couldn’t deny that there was nothing less he wanted to do next Sunday than attend a party for his dead brother.

His gut cramped at just the thought of it.

He understood the reason for it—memorials kept the deceased alive in people’s memories.

Jesse didn’t need a memorial for that, though. Mikey was always with him, day in and day out. A ghost hovering over his shoulder.

“Would you consider taking Parker with you?”

“Huh?” Jesse shook his head, forcing himself to stay in the present. “Take Parker where?”

“To Toronto. I think a change of scenery would do him good.”

That... actually wasn’t a bad idea. Jesse should’ve thought of it himself. But... “He’s got dinner cruises on Wednesdays and Fridays.”

“So? Surely, someone can cover for him. Oh look, there’s your dad.

” Mom patted his hand again. “Now you can give us a tour of your house at the same time.” At his questioning glance, she added, “I called him on my way over.” She waved both arms at Dad, as though he wouldn’t spot them sitting right on the porch.

Choking on a laugh as a swell of love swept through him, Jesse rose and opened the front door. “Come on in.”