by Lisa Jordan
“Your dad’s a lot tougher than you may think. And God doesn’t give us a spirit of fear. He gives us courage and power and love and a sound mind to make good choices. You are strong and courageous, Bella. And so is your dad. You’ve been working so hard and just need some downtime. It will help with your perspective.”
“I can’t. Too much to do.”
“What would you do if you had the day off?”
She sighed and smiled. “A morning stroll through the farmers market, a bike ride around the lake before it gets too cold, snuggling in a blanket around a campfire while watching the stars. But that won’t be happening for a while, if at all. Like I said, there’s just too much to do.”
Tucker took a step toward her and lifted her chin. “There’s always going to be too much to do. You need the downtime, so take the day and do all of those things. With me.”
A frown creased her forehead as her eyes tangled with his. “W-with you? And the twins, you mean?”
“No. You and me.”
She pulled her gaze away and let out a slow breath. Then she nodded and gave him a slow smile. “Okay.”
The single word, spoken barely above a whisper, had him wanting to fist pump the air, but he pocketed his hands and smiled. “Great. How about first thing in the morning? We’ll start with the farmers market.”
She nodded and reached for the doorknob. “Great. See you then. I have to get back to the diner.”
Tucker reached over her, opened the door and held it open as she stepped outside and strode down the walk. Once she reached her car, she gave him a quick wave, climbed into her car and backed out of the driveway.
Pressing his back against the doorjamb, he waited until she headed down the hill and disappeared out of sight.
What would it take for him to convince Isabella she was an original, the lead in her own story?
And was he truly ready to take that next step? To be the one to show her she wasn’t anyone’s stand-in? Especially his late wife’s?
For the first time in years, he felt something he wasn’t sure he’d feel again.
Hope.
And he wanted to hold on to it as long as he could.
Chapter Seven
If Isabella could turn back time, she’d go back a dozen years and give her teenage self a head slap.
If she’d asked Tucker to the Sadie Hawkins dance all those years ago, would they have started dating and maybe ended up married with a family?
So hard to say.
But she had been too scared to put herself out there.
Now she wasn’t going to allow herself to speculate on what could have been. Tucker had chosen Rayne. And Isabella had chosen her culinary career.
Leaving Shelby Lake had helped her get over seeing Tucker and Rayne together every day. But now that she was back, she spent more and more time thinking about Tucker.
Did he mean it when he said he was ready to move forward?
The man hadn’t dated anyone since his wife’s passing.
Was he truly ready?
If she didn’t stop thinking about Tucker, she was going to drive herself crazy. She needed to focus on things within her control. Like getting the rest of the hometown heroes’ photos hung on the diner’s all-star wall.
She hung the final framed photograph of one of Shelby Lake’s enlisted servicemen, a Marine Corps corporal serving in the Middle East, and smothered a yawn. As she stepped off the small ladder, the front door opened.
She turned to find Tucker holding the door for his stepmom, Claudia, and his future sister-in-law, Tori, who was also Claudia’s niece.
Isabella lifted a hand, shooting Tucker a puzzled look. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”
“Hey, Bella. Sorry for showing up unannounced, but Claudia and Tori brought Olivia and Landon home after you left. I told them about that awesome burger and, well... Tori wanted to talk to you.”
“Sure.” She glanced between Tori and Claudia, who were dressed nearly alike in jeans, brown knee boots and long cardigan sweaters with patterned scarves wound around their necks. She was thankful she’d decided not to change out of her clothes after leaving Tucker’s and waved a hand toward one of the empty booths. “Have a seat.”
Instead of complying, Tori trailed her fingers over the freshly painted walls and ran her hands over the booths Dad had installed that morning before the hood system blew, wreaking havoc on her emotions. She straightened a new placemat menu on one of the round tables down the center of the dining room, and then she stopped in front of the all-star heroes’ wall, resting an elbow on a ladder rung as she gazed at the framed photos lining the wall.
Smiling, Tori turned around and headed back to the booth, sliding in next to her aunt. “Isabella, you have a gift. This diner looks amazing. You’ve created a warm, homey feel that’s going to draw in plenty of customers.” She opened her purse, pulled out a card and handed it to Isabella. “I work for a PR firm, and I’d love to help the diner with advertising.”
Isabella took it and glanced at the card before pocketing it for later. “I really appreciate that, Tori, and I’m sure Dad would, too, but our budget is a bit tight right now. Would any of you like something to drink?”
Claudia held up a hand and shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
Tori slid in next to her aunt and looked at Isabella, folding her hands on the table. “Every time I talk to Livie and Landon, they tell me about the wonderful food you make together when you’re caring for them. And after hearing Tucker rave about your cooking, Jake and I wondered if you’d be willing to cater our upcoming wedding in May.”
“Are you serious?” Isabella jerked her gaze between Tori, Claudia and Tucker, who shrugged and shot her a smile that tripped her pulse.
“Yes, but we aren’t having a big wedding. Just family and close friends. I’m sure you’re used to much bigger venues.”
“Actually, um, I don’t have a lot of solo catering experience. I’ve done events at the resort where I used to work, but I haven’t coordinated anything on my own. Are you sure you want to hire me?”
“I have plenty of experience coordinating events, but our guests do not want to be subjected to my cooking. If you think you could handle an event with about fifty people, we’d love to talk numbers and menus with you.”
They talked for about ten more minutes about menus, courses and possible budgets. Then Claudia and Tori stood and headed for the door with Tucker trailing behind. He turned and gave her another heart-tossing grin. “Thanks, Bella. Again, I’m sorry for just dropping in.”
She grabbed his hand. “No, Tucker, thank you.”
Later that evening, with her conversation with Claudia and Tori still swirling in her head, Isabella spooned cranberry-apple-balsamic reduction over the roasted Cajun pork tenderloin she removed from the oven. She sliced the meat and rested it on top of a bed of rice-quinoa blend alongside roasted asparagus with a cranberry compote. She wiped the edge of the plate with her towel and carried it into the living room, where Dad sat in his recliner watching a game on TV.
“Okay, Dad, here’s the third entrée I’m considering to go along with the roasted chicken and beef tips. Tell me what you think. If you like it, maybe we could add it as a weekly special or something.”
With his focus still on the TV, Dad took the plate and cut a piece of meat without commenting on the presentation. Isabella tried not to stare while he spiked a stalk of asparagus and bit into it.
His lack of comments did little to stop the gymnastics in her stomach.
He finished half the meal without a word, and Isabella couldn’t stand it for another second. “Well? What do you think?”
Dad reached for the remote and muted the TV. The sudden silence unnerved her. He set the half-finished food on his side table cluttered with fishing magazines, pill bottles and a cold cup of coffee. “It’s good.�
�
Good? That’s it? She hadn’t spent the last four hours in the kitchen for good.
“Okay, then. Thanks.” She walked behind the recliner to take his plate.
“Hold up.” He wrapped a hand around her wrist. “I’m not done eating or speaking.”
“Sorry.” Isabella set the plate back on the table, then moved to the plaid couch that had sat in the same spot for the past twenty-five years. She stretched out her legs and pulled out her phone to thumb through her favorite chefs’ social media feeds in an effort to appear nonchalant about her father’s comments.
“Bells, there’s no denying you’re a talented chef, and the food is good. More than good. It’s great, actually. But, sweetheart, you’re trying too hard. Shelby Lake isn’t like the Briarwood clientele. Sure, we have some classy folks, but most people around here are looking for comfort food. And I’m good with that. So, before you present Jake and Tori with a fine-dining menu and budget that will cause their eyes to pop, dial it down a little. You can make wonderful homemade meals without breaking the bank.” Dad finished his meal, then set the plate back on the table and reached for the remote.
As the sounds of the coaches’ whistles and sports commentary filled the room, Isabella stared at her phone, digesting his words.
She’d spent years taking criticism on her cooking, often constructive, but sometimes comments tore at her ego. While she’d always valued her father’s opinion, tonight she’d hoped for a little more enthusiasm.
Why was she trying to be something more than what she truly was? She was the greasy spoon girl, the one who fit nicely in the friend zone, the one who didn’t rock the boat, the one who needed to stay in her lane.
Problem was—she wanted more, but how did she go about getting it? The more time she spent in Shelby Lake, the longer she’d stay a hungry chef, unfulfilled with achieving her destiny, her purpose.
Maybe Tucker was right—maybe it wasn’t up to her to make sure her father held on to his dreams.
But did she truly have the courage to embrace her own?
Even if it meant leaving everything she was growing to love?
No, the problem was, despite what her head said, her heart longed for more—the love and partnership that only came from a loving spouse.
But that meant trusting someone else to be there for her. Could she risk putting her heart out there only to have it trampled and bruised? Could she handle being abandoned one more time to figure out how to deal with the rejection all by herself?
But what if Tucker was right?
What if she did look to the future and put her trust in God? Could He have a future for someone like her? Was she willing to risk it to find out? But what if He turned His back on her, too?
Then what?
Did she have the courage to at least try?
* * *
Tucker was fine.
At least that’s what he kept telling himself.
Maybe, just maybe, if he kept repeating it enough times, people would begin to believe him. And maybe he’d believe it, too.
Until then, he kept moving forward, because any other direction dropped him to his knees with memories that slammed him in the gut.
Three years since he’d gotten the call that shattered his world. Three years since the love of his life died a senseless death from something she’d ingested and reacted to. The anaphylaxis had happened so quickly, there hadn’t even been time to make it to the ER. Three years since he’d struggled to figure out a new kind of normal.
So, yeah, he needed a night like this—Friday evening at the farmhouse surrounded by the love and laughter of family, brainstorming wedding plans over homemade pizza.
Needing some air and quiet after helping his dad and Jake clean up the kitchen, Tucker stepped out onto the front porch with Meno at his heels and sat in one of the Amish-made hickory rocking chairs Dad had gifted Claudia as a wedding present and clasped his hands behind his head.
Nightfall shrouded the fields to an inky darkness as a scatter of stars lit up the sky. The evening breeze whisked across his face, sending a chill down the back of his unbuttoned flannel over his short-sleeved T-shirt, and stirred dry leaves that had fallen on the porch. Cows bawled from the barn as they settled in for the night. Meno rested his chin on Tucker’s worn leather slippers.
The front door opened, and Dad stepped out carrying two steaming cups of coffee. He handed one to Tucker then settled in the other rocking chair. “Figured you could use something to warm you up in this cool air.”
“Thanks, Pops.”
“What’s going on?”
“Just listening to the sounds of the animals settling in for the night.”
“Something else on your mind?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You seem a little distracted tonight. Wondered if maybe your thoughts were hanging out at the bottom of the hill.”
“Maybe. At least partially.” Tucker leaned forward and pulled a folded envelope out of his back pocket, handing it to his father. “This came today. I got in.”
Being able to say the words out loud filled him with a sense of satisfaction he hadn’t expected.
Dad took the cream-colored envelope and pulled out the letter. He retrieved his reading glasses from his front shirt pocket, set them on his nose, then lifted the paper to catch enough light from inside the house to read the print.
Tucker pulled out his phone and flicked on the flashlight, then handed it to his dad. “Here, Pops, use this.”
Dad took the phone and held it over the paper.
A couple of minutes later, he grinned and folded the letter, handing it back to Tucker along with his phone. “Way to go, Tuck. I knew you could do it. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I didn’t want to horn in on Jake and Tori’s excitement about the wedding.”
“You always did put others first. Still, this is worth celebrating.”
“I’m not sure if I’m accepting yet or not.”
“Why not? You’ve been working hard with the online classes to get your gen ed credits so you can transfer onto main campus.”
“I’ve spent the last three years trying to figure out how to pick up the pieces of my own life. It just seems so crazy right now with work, caring for the kids, keeping the house from turning into an episode of Hoarders, helping on the farm. Plus, it’s an hour commute each way. I’ve thought about putting classes on hold until we get settled into a better routine.”
“It’s going to be an adjustment, for sure, but wouldn’t being on main campus give you more focused time for your degree?”
“Yes, and I’ve been thinking about that since the letter arrived. Doing classes online is convenient for family and work, but there are constant distractions. This is my first semester, and there are days when I wonder if I’ll even make it to finals in December. Having Bella around to help with my kids has been a huge boost.”
“But is she planning to stick around? Joe seems to think she’s only home for a short while.”
“I’m not sure she and Joe are on the same wavelength. She wants to help him with the diner, but she hasn’t said how long she plans to stay. She seems to be at loose ends right now.”
“I’d hate to see you get hurt, son.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Mind if I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Why do you want to become a grief counselor, Tuck? You’re a gifted paramedic.”
Tucker focused on a stain on the porch left by a wet leaf that had since dried and blown away. How did he answer Dad’s question without sounding like an idiot?
The rocker creaked as Dad stood and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you suppose you could be searching for a way to work through your own grief? After the tornado killed your mom and nearly destr
oyed the rest of us, then Rayne’s death, that was a triple whammy for you. But you just kept going. And today’s the anniversary of Rayne’s death. Have you even allowed yourself to grieve properly?”
Easing out of the chair, Tucker stood and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he focused on the silhouette of the fence in the field across the road. “I had to keep going. When I lost Rayne, I still had babies to care for. We’re Holland strong, remember? That’s what we do.” He waved a hand over the property. “With the farm nearly rebuilt, you marrying Claudia and Jake and Tori getting married, we’re good. Everything’s good. I’m fine.”
If that were true, then why did he still have that hollow ache in his chest?
Dad moved in front of him. The interior lights cast a glow on the front porch and offered enough light for Tucker to see the concern in his father’s eyes. “Are you? Really? For the past couple of years, you’ve been in survival mode. And yes, your life is a bit chaotic right now as you’re trying to move forward without Rayne. I’ve been there—I had to learn to live again without your mother. I’m telling you—it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“I told you I’m fine.” He winced against the sharp edge of his tone and softened his voice. “Thank you for your concern. I appreciate you looking out for me. And the way you help with Livie and Landon. Truly. I’m not wallowing in misery. I’m going into work—even covering shifts for my coworkers. I’m pushing through classes even on days when I’m dog tired and want nothing more than a warm bed and a soft pillow. Olivia and Landon are fed, clothed and thriving. We’re fine. I’m fine.”
Dad considered him a moment, then nodded, although the frown between his eyes and the creased forehead stayed in place. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Since everything’s just fine, then you shouldn’t defer enrollment. Life’s only going to get harder from here on out, so grab onto this opportunity while you can. Claudia and I are here to do whatever we can to help you.”
Tucker pulled his father into a hug and battled the unexpected wetness clouding his vision. His chest tightened, and he cleared his throat. “Thanks, Pops. I appreciate it. More than you know.”