Driftwood Bay

by Irene Hannon

  “Why don’t you give the phone back to him and I’ll explain the job?”

  Once again, Logan passed over the cell.

  This time, Thomma had a longer conversation with the woman, doing more listening than talking, shaking his head once. Finally he handed the phone back.

  It was impossible to tell from his expression whether he’d agreed to help, but the head shake wasn’t promising. However, Logan was willing to up the fee to whatever the man wanted. Bringing peace and quiet to this house would be worth any price.

  “What’s the verdict?” Logan curled the fingers of his free hand into a tight ball and held his breath.

  “He said he’d be glad to help you. He can come early in the morning before work, right after work, and again in the evening—but he doesn’t want to take any money. He said he’d enjoy doing it.”

  Thank you, God.

  He refilled his lungs. “I can’t let him do this for free.”

  “I told him you’d probably say that. He countered with the equivalent of five dollars a day for the three fifteen-minute sessions.”

  “Let’s make it twenty-five.”

  “I’ll leave you to negotiate that.”

  “Fair enough. Thanks for your help tonight.”

  “Anytime. But I doubt you—or the Shabos—will need me much longer. Jeannette is doing an outstanding tutoring job. I can’t believe the progress they’ve made after just three lessons. In the meantime, though, don’t hesitate to call if I can be of assistance.”

  After they said good-bye, Logan joined Thomma at the table. “Molly, why don’t you and Elisa go play in your room for a few minutes while I talk to her daddy?”

  In silence, she slid off her chair, took the other girl’s hand, and tugged her down the hall.

  “Toby . . . okay.” Logan indicated the dog.

  At the sound of his name, the dog gave a yap.

  “Kunn hadyaan.” Thomma grasped the dog’s muzzle, his tone firm.

  It was the same command he’d used before—and it worked again.

  Logan repeated the phonetics silently and tucked the term away in his vocabulary as he pulled up a calendar on his cell, angled it so Thomma could see, and drew a finger across the next fourteen days, beginning with tomorrow.

  The other man dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “Okay.”

  “Good.” They could deal with the money issue at the first session.

  Mariam took off her apron, folded it, and tucked it inside her tote bag. “Dinner.” She indicated the simmering dish emitting savory aromas, lifted a lid on a pot of rice, and motioned toward a plate of—baklava?—on the counter.

  There was way too much food here for him and Molly.

  He swept a hand over the Shabo family and indicated the table. “Eat?”

  “No. Thank you.” Mariam picked up her purse. “Monday?”

  “Yes.”

  Thomma stood and walked to the door of the hall. “Elisa.”

  When the girl appeared, her father spoke in Arabic and took her hand.

  Molly trailed in, dragging her feet, the corners of her lips drooping as her new friend prepared to leave.

  Logan followed the family to the front door, with Molly and Toby in his wake, and watched as they walked down the driveway to their car.

  “Did you have fun with Elisa today?” Logan rested his hand on Molly’s stiff shoulder.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Played.”

  “What did you play?”

  “Games.”

  So much for the theory that open-ended questions stimulated conversation.

  “Let me run down to the mailbox, and then we’ll eat dinner. You can watch me through the window, but don’t open the door or Toby might take off.”

  He slipped outside, pulling the door shut behind him, and jogged down the drive.

  As he approached the box, Jeannette appeared on the other side of the hedge heading for her mailbox.

  Perfect timing.

  “Hi.” He gave her his best smile.

  She jerked and swung toward him with a soft exclamation.

  “Sorry.” He flattened his lips. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “That’s okay. I’m, uh, not used to friendly greetings from my neighbor.”

  “The previous owner wasn’t sociable?”

  “Not very. I doubt he said more than ten words to me the entire three years we shared a property line.”

  “His loss.”

  A faint flush stole over her cheeks—but she didn’t otherwise acknowledge his comment. “How’s Mariam working out?”

  “Couldn’t be better. And I got an extra benefit. It seems Thomma has a way with dogs, and he’s agreed to help me try to get Toby under control.”

  “That is a bonus.” Jeannette continued to her mailbox and pulled out the letters inside.

  In a minute, she was going to disappear behind her hedge again—unless he took some fast action.

  He retrieved his own mail as she closed her box. “I don’t know if you’ve already eaten, but Mariam made dinner tonight to thank me for giving her the job.” He kept his manner casual, his tone straightforward rather than personal. “There’s far more than Molly and I can eat—and since you were the catalyst, it’s only fair we share it with you. Would you like to join us for dinner? Afterward we’re going to take a walk on the beach.”

  Jeannette retreated a few steps toward her house—giving him her answer before she verbalized it. “I appreciate the offer, but I-I have chores to do tonight.”

  Don’t push, West. Respect the lady’s decision, even if you’re tired of the silent treatment from Molly during meals and dying to share dinner with a female over the age of five.

  “I hear you.” He forced up the corners of his mouth. “But if you see us pulling out of our driveway later and change your mind about the beach, flag us down.” He started back toward the house.

  He was eight steps away when she spoke.

  “Logan.”

  Masking his surprise—and his hope—he pivoted back toward her.

  “Um . . . you don’t have to drive to get to the beach.”

  Not what he’d expected.

  “Is there an access point around here?”

  “Yes. At the back of my property there’s a path that leads to the dunes overlooking the bay, and from there you can walk down to Driftwood Beach. It’s not far. You’re welcome to use it. Most days you’ll have the beach to yourself.”

  She sounded a bit breathless. Like she was nervous or . . . afraid?

  That didn’t make sense.

  Why would offering someone beach access generate a case of nerves?

  Whatever the reason she found the offer distressing, why labor over it? Better to accept with gratitude. This would be much easier than loading Molly and Toby into the car.

  “I appreciate that. Molly will get a kick out of walking to the beach, and Toby will love the exercise. But I promise to keep a tight hold on his leash while we’re on your property.”

  “I’m not worried about that. It sounds like you’re well on your way to corralling his canine capers. Enjoy your dinner.”

  With that, she disappeared behind the hedge.

  Logan retraced his steps to the house more slowly.

  It was a shame Jeannette had turned down his dinner invitation—but it might be for the best. If they spent any time together, he could get interested.

  Make that more interested.

  Which would not be good.

  He had plenty on his plate already adjusting to a brand-new town, learning the ropes at the urgent care center, dealing with a rascally pup, and trying to learn how to be a single father and to win the trust—and love—of a little girl who’d been no more than a Facebook photo to him for most of her five years.

  There wasn’t room in his life for romance.

  Yet even if there was, he suspected Jeannette wouldn’t be interested.

  And he didn�
��t think it was personal.

  A woman who ran a business out of her home and rarely left the premises wasn’t interested in connecting with anybody.

  At the foot of the porch steps, Logan gave the tall hedge a final sweep.

  Maybe they were meant to be nothing more than neighbors.

  But someday he was going to find out why a beautiful woman with a caring heart locked herself away on a lavender farm with only her flowers for company.

  14

  The crash from next door was loud—and it was followed by a little-girl wail.

  Uh-oh.

  Jeannette dropped her long-handled trowel in the lavender bed and sped toward the front of her house, heart pounding.

  If Molly had gotten injured, it would be her fault. She was the one who’d suggested this daycare arrangement. And just because the first week had gone smoothly didn’t mean there couldn’t still be bumps in the road.

  She rounded the bottom of the hedge at the end of her drive and picked up speed as she dashed toward Logan’s backyard.

  At least there were no more wails.

  That could be a positive sign—or a bad one.

  Please, Lord, let it be the former!

  But it wasn’t.

  As the backyard came into view, both girls were huddled around Mariam, who was sitting on the ground. Toby lay on the grass as far away as his leash would stretch, chin on paws, watching the proceedings in silence—for once.

  Mariam spotted her first and offered an apologetic shrug. “I fall.”

  “Yes. I see.” Jeannette joined the girls, directing her question to Molly. “What happened?”

  “Toby runned around her and she tripped on the leash.”

  That figured.

  She refocused on Mariam. “Hurt?” She touched various parts of her own body.

  The older woman pulled up the leg of her slacks.

  Her ankle was already swelling.

  Jeannette stifled a groan.

  What a way to start the week.

  And with Thomma out on the fishing boat, she’d have to deal with this herself.

  So . . . what to do? Call 911?

  Yes. Paramedics would be able to address this far better than she could.

  As she pulled out her phone, Mariam squinted at her. “Who call?”

  How could she communicate ambulance? That word hadn’t cropped up in their vocabulary lessons yet.

  “Hospital. Doctor. Police.” Maybe one of those would register.

  Mariam grabbed her arm, alarm strobing through her eyes. “No police. I okay.” She tried to stand, grimacing as she struggled to her feet.

  Since the woman was determined to get herself upright, Jeannette lent her a hand.

  By the time Mariam was vertical, her complexion had lost most of its color.

  She needed medical help—yet the notion of police involvement had frightened her.

  Perhaps in Syria, any contact with the government was dangerous—especially if you were Christian.

  But her injury required attention.

  Jeannette debated her options. If she could get Mariam to the car, she could drive her to the urgent care center. Letting a doctor she knew examine her ankle shouldn’t be too traumatic.

  “Logan see.” She pointed to the woman’s ankle. “Okay?”

  Mariam hesitated a moment. Shook her head. “No money.”

  “No worry.” The churches must have made some arrangements for medical care for the family—but if not, she’d pay for the urgent care center visit herself.

  Without giving the woman a chance to protest, she turned to the girls, who were holding hands and watching with saucer eyes. “Molly, you and Elisa stay here with Mrs. Shabo while I put Toby in the house. Okay?”

  “’Kay.”

  “Where’s his cage?”

  “In the empty room.”

  After retrieving a folding chair from the back porch for Mariam, she took Toby’s leash and pulled the protesting dog toward the house. “Sorry, fella. I don’t have time to play games or put up with your antics. Be a good boy and make this easy, please.”

  The pup actually cooperated—more or less—as she entered the house and searched for the spare bedroom.

  Once she found it, however, he began barking and dug in his paws.

  “Come on, Toby.” She gripped his collar and joined the game of tug-of-war. “It’s an emergency. We won’t be gone long.”

  Somehow she managed to get the twenty pounds of writhing fur into the cage—but as she locked the door, he let loose with ear-splitting howls.

  She winced.

  No wonder Logan had complained about losing his hearing.

  Back outside, she raced around the hedge to get her car, pulled into Logan’s driveway, and managed to support Mariam as the woman shuffled to the vehicle.

  She had no car seats for the girls, but she buckled them into the adult restraints in the back and prayed none of the Hope Harbor cops would pull her over during the short drive to town.

  The ride was silent—and stressful. Tension radiated off the two girls in the back seat, and Mariam had gone from colorless to gray.

  Not until she pulled up in front of the urgent care center did her pulse begin to settle back into the semblance of a normal rhythm. In less than five minutes, she ought to be able to hand this over to the experts and escape back to her peaceful farm.

  “Stay here.” She addressed her three passengers. “I’ll get help.”

  With that, she slid out of the car and jogged to the door.

  No one was in the waiting room when she entered, and she pressed the bell on the front desk.

  A fortysomething woman appeared at the door that led to the examining rooms. “May I help you?”

  Jeannette explained the situation in a few short sentences. “The patient is Logan—Dr. West’s—babysitter. If he’s available, you might want to let him know.”

  “I’ll do that, get a wheelchair, and meet you at the car.” The woman disappeared behind the door again.

  Jeannette returned to the parking lot, dredging up a reassuring smile for the solemn occupants of her Civic as she opened Mariam’s door. “Help is coming.”

  The woman nodded, as if she understood. And it was possible she did. All of the Shabos were progressing at a remarkable pace, and it was obvious Mariam was putting in extra hours on the vocabulary and pronunciation links she left with them after each lesson. But Elisa was advancing fastest, thanks to her interactions with Molly.

  Three minutes later, Logan pushed a wheelchair through the door and joined her beside the car. “Sorry you got pulled into this.”

  “Emergencies happen.”

  “What’s the story?” He leaned down to examine Mariam’s ankle.

  “According to the eyewitness who speaks fluent English—that would be your niece—Toby gets the blame for this.”

  He sighed. “Why am I not surprised?” He finished his preliminary probing and stood. “I don’t think this is too serious, but we’ll take an X-ray to verify that.” He positioned the wheelchair and helped the woman into it. “Where is the demon dog?”

  “In his cage—and not happy about it. He was very vocal in his protests.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Jeannette shut the door behind Mariam. “Shall I bring the girls inside?”

  “For now. Thomma gets off in about forty-five minutes. I’ll have Susan try his cell and leave a message if he doesn’t answer. He can swing by here and pick up Mariam and Elisa.”

  Frowning, Jeannette unbuckled the two girls. That took care of Mariam and Elisa, but Logan was stuck here until five. Molly couldn’t sit in the waiting room that long . . . and he didn’t know anyone else well enough yet to ask for a babysitting favor.

  Except her.

  And he wouldn’t solicit her help. Not after she’d rebuffed his few friendly overtures.

  Besides, he didn’t come across as the pushy type—or the kind of person who would ever want to impose.

 
You could offer to help him out, though. It wouldn’t kill you to watch Molly for a few hours.

  That was true.

  But Molly was a charming child—and her uncle was big-time appealing. It would be far too easy to fall under their spell. Get involved. Let them finagle their way into her heart.

  And that would be scary.

  Stomach roiling, she took the girls’ hands and led them toward the urgent care center.

  In the lobby, Logan paused. “I hate to delay you, but would you mind waiting with the girls for a few minutes while I line someone up to stay with them until Thomma gets here and try to find someone to watch Molly?”

  “No problem.” She took a deep breath. Just suck it up and do the compassionate thing, Jeannette. “But I have a better idea. I’ll wait with the girls, and after the Shabos leave, I’ll take Molly home with me until you get off work.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. She can help me make sachets. And I can take her and Toby down to the beach later.”

  “That would be great.” Some of the tension in his features eased.

  “I’ll need a key, though. I locked your door behind me after I put Toby in the cage.”

  He fished out a ring, pulled a key off, and handed it over. “I owe you.”

  “No, you don’t. This is what neighbors do.” She slid the key into the pocket of her jeans and motioned toward a sitting area in the corner, where a table held an array of children’s books. “We’ll wait over there until Thomma gets here.”

  “It shouldn’t be long.”

  As he turned his attention back to the patient, Mariam grasped her hand. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Jeannette squeezed her fingers.

  Elisa had been silent throughout the ordeal, but as Logan began to wheel Mariam into the treatment area, she whimpered and latched onto the woman’s arm, tears welling in her eyes.

  Mariam spoke to her in soothing tones in Arabic while Molly patted her back. “It’s okay, Elisa. Teta will get better.” She sent her uncle a beseeching look.

  Picking up her prompt, he got down on Elisa’s level and crossed his heart. “Teta okay. Promise.”

  Mariam spoke again in Arabic, and at last Elisa relinquished her grip.

  “Come over here, girls, and we’ll find some picture books.” Jeannette took their hands again and led them to the corner. Elisa came without protest, but she kept looking over her shoulder until Logan and her grandmother disappeared through the door.