“I’m not in trouble,” she says earnestly, lifting her eyes to look out at the moon bouncing off the water. A breath, I wasn’t aware I was holding, releases in an audible exhale. She grins and turns back to me. “You thought I was on the lam?”
I shrug a little self-consciously. “It was one of the possibilities. It seems obvious you’re hiding from something.”
“In some ways, maybe. Steering clear of public scrutiny for sure, but mostly I’m hoping to find something.”
“What are you looking for?” I ask, and I sense, without intending it to be, my question is a hard one. She takes her time, letting her gaze drift off in the distance. I don’t want to push, and I’m not in a hurry, so I quietly wait for her to talk.
“Me,” she finally says without meeting my eyes. “I’ve been…lost, I guess is the best way to describe it. One minute you think you’re doing okay and then suddenly find yourself defined by circumstances. By what you do—or worse, by what happened to you—rather than by who you are. It’s no one’s fault, really. Stuff happens. Your life looks to be on track until suddenly it isn’t, and you’ve lost sight of how you fit in.”
“I think I understand what you’re saying, to some extent,” I offer cautiously. “We delude ourselves into a sense of control, until something happens to change the very core of that belief. Something that completely shuffles your deck, so to speak, and forces you to hit the reset button on everything from priorities, to expectations, even to your sense of self. It’s sobering to discover how little control you actually have.”
“Exactly,” she says softly, her eyes slowly drifting my way, as if seeing me for the first time.
There’s a moment of recognition—an almost tangible connection—when I look in her blue eyes and find her pain laid open.
“Who did you lose?” I whisper, and immediately regret it when I see those eyes well up.
“My son. My world,” she says, breaking my heart with those softly uttered words.
Almost without conscious guidance, my hand reaches out and grabs hold of hers. “The first time I saw you,” I confirm what I already know.
She nods and takes a deep breath. “Jamie was riding his bike along the sidewalk.” She shakes her head like she still can’t believe it, and her voice is almost monotone. She doesn’t pull back her hand, though, it’s like she grips my fingers tighter. “He’d done so many times before. His dad asked him to meet for lunch. It was just after noon on a Tuesday. They said the car just plowed onto the sidewalk. Who gets drunk in the middle of a workday?” She seems genuinely puzzled.
Something she said is nagging at me. “You said Tuesday?”
“Tuesday March twenty-seventh.”
“But it was December when I—”
“I know. Jamie survived the crash. He had a severe concussion, and was paralyzed from his chest down, but he survived for another nine months. I’d just dropped him off with his physical therapist at Tufts and went to grab coffee when he collapsed during his daily exercise regimen. It was an aneurism. He was on life support for a week before he…”
“Jesus, Mika,” I groan as I get to my feet and pull her up at the same time. Closing the distance and folding her in my arms happens without thinking. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not wasting any time, are ya?” Daniel’s taunt sounds behind me, and I’ve never before felt a stronger urge to plow my fist in my friend’s face. Instead I keep my back turned and Mika shielded from the asshole.
“Shut up, you idiot,” I hear Melissa hiss as their lowered voices disappear around the side of the cottage.
“There’s more,” Mika’s voice is muffled in my shirt and I loosen my arms. Immediately she takes a step back. She looks wrecked, and I feel guilty for having brought this on.
“Not tonight. You’re exhausted.”
“But I need you to know that—”
My fingers press against her lips. “If you still want to, you can tell me another day. I’m not going anywhere. Get some rest.”
I’m not sure if it’s the vulnerable look in her blue eyes or the temptation of her soft lips under the pads of my fingers, but I can’t seem to stop myself from leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss on her mouth.
6
MIKA
“Are you settling in okay?”
This morning is the first chance I get to catch up with Sam. Saturday and Sunday had been crazy busy, both during lunch and at dinner.
I saw the truck come in Saturday morning, off-loading what I hoped was the dishwasher, while I was sipping coffee out front. I thought I was off the hook when Mandy showed up knocking on my door at noon. Trish, the woman who’d seemed a little distant the night before had apparently come down with something and—according to a brutally honest Mandy—I was conveniently close. That started my crash course as a server.
I never knew how exhausting waiting tables was. By the time the last customer cleared the restaurant last night, I vowed never to tip less than twenty percent again.
Instead of sitting outside, I’m holed up in the cottage this morning, covered in a blanket I pulled off the bed. It’s miserable and chilly outside after a weekend of balmy temperatures.
“Better than I thought,” I admit. “After this weekend, I almost feel like a local.”
“Why? What did you do on the weekend?”
“Worked my ass off.” I chuckle. It’s true; I can still feel the burn in my legs and arms from being on my feet, carrying heavy trays.
“Worked? How? Where?”
“At the restaurant. Friday night I washed dishes and the rest of the weekend I served.”
“You?” I can hear the disbelief in her voice.
I don’t blame her, I can’t really believe it myself, least of all how much I enjoyed it. I’d been nervous at first, not just that I might drop someone’s lunch or dinner in their laps, but that I’d be recognized. The thing I never realized about waiting tables is that people don’t really see you. Oh, they look at you, talk to you, even smile, but they don’t really see the person standing in front of them.
Last night there’d been a table with two couples, and I’d caught one of the men staring at me. It was clear he was trying to place me after I’d taken their order. When I brought out their food, he snapped his fingers. “Didn’t you used to work at the Bullpen? By Fenway Park?” I’d just smiled, nodded and told him it’d been quite some time since I’d been near that place. It’s the truth, and the man seemed to take it as confirmation, which suited me just fine.
“Yes, Sam. Me.”
“Wait. You mean his restaurant? You talked to him?”
I stay quiet, thinking about how close I came to spilling all the beans Friday night. I was tired and emotional, and almost told him everything, but he’d stopped me. Told me it could wait, except there hasn’t been a chance since. Besides, I’m not even sure I could bring up the courage. That night my defenses were down, but they’re firmly back in place now.
No matter how attracted I am to him, or how unexpectedly safe I felt when he held me, there’s no way I can allow myself to go there.
“Mika?”
“I did talk to him some. I…I told him about Jamie, but I didn’t tell him everything.”
“Mika…” Her tone is admonishing.
“I know, okay? I know…it’s just…I like it here. I feel connected, and it’s not just about the girl. It’s him too. I don’t want to have to leave, and if I tell him, I may have to.”
“I get that, I do, but I’m afraid the longer you postpone the person who’ll really be hurt is y—”
“I know,” I quickly interrupt. “I just need a little more time, that’s all.”
There’s a pregnant pause before she drops it and changes the topic. “By the way, I talked to Steve. He says it didn’t even occur to him. Typical guy, he knows your story, he knows his friend’s story, and still he wasn’t able to put two and two together until I connected the dots for him.”
“It’s not his fault, Sam.�
�
“Oh, I know, but he’s my brother, so if it gives me something to lord over his head for a while, I’m gonna use it.” I hear the grin in her voice and I’m chuckling myself. Sam adores her brother and vice versa, but they sure love to give each other a hard time. It’s something I’ve always envied, that kind of relaxed relationship. “By the way,” she continues. “He says he can try to find you another rental. Of course, he also mentioned you’re welcome to stay at his place, but we’ll ignore that. He’s a dog.”
“Yes, let’s ignore,” I agree with her. “And I have his number if I find myself in need of new digs.”
We don’t talk long after that, just a quick check on how her husband, Jason, and their two girls are doing, before we say our goodbyes.
I get up off the couch to grab myself another coffee, when I notice the bowl of sea glass sitting on the counter. I let my fingers drag over the smoothly rounded pieces and realize I haven’t thanked Jude for these yet. It had been more than just a nice gesture, something that was confirmed when he gave me that barely-there kiss. I may not be the brightest or most experienced person when it comes to the romance department, but I’m willing to wager Jude is interested in me too.
It’s not what brought me here. I wasn’t exactly looking for anything more than connecting with myself again. Still, the unexpected draw is there, and I can’t help consider all the complexities it calls up.
As I pour my coffee, I notice sunlight is trying to break through outside. I’d resigned myself to an indoor day of reading, maybe catching a movie or something on the small TV, but it looks like I might still be able to do a little beachcombing.
Nothing like a cool sea breeze to clear the mind.
JUDE
“We have a problem.”
I look up to find Mandy standing in the doorway to my office.
“What now?”
She walks in and takes a seat on one of the visitor chairs, looking serious.
“I just got a call from Trish’s husband. Apparently Trish was brought to Mass General on Sunday. She had a stroke.”
“You’re kidding me. She’s my age. How is she?”
I’m shocked. Trish has worked here for close to ten years. I can count the times she’s been off sick on one hand. She’s as tough and strong as they come.
“Forty-eight, actually, and she’s stable. Fred says the doctors are still running tests, but at this point her entire left side is paralyzed.”
“Shit. Is there anything we can do? Anything Fred needs?”
“I offered. He said he’d call if he needs something, but he’s got their daughter flying in from California this afternoon.”
“Visitors?”
Mandy shakes her head. “She’s in ICU, so just family for now.”
“Fair enough. Let Fred know we can keep an eye on their house while they’re in Boston, and to let us know when she’s allowed visitors. Jesus, that’s scary.”
“I know and I will. Seems almost disrespectful at this point but we need to look at the summer schedule. Trish and Penny are our full-timers. I can try and fill Trish’s shifts with the part-time roster, but most of them are students, and you know as well as I do, we need someone reliable. Someone we can count on to be here when they’re supposed to be.”
“It’s not easy to find full-time staff during the season. Remember it took us forever to find Penny?”
“I don’t think we’d have to look that far.”
I squint my eyes and study her expression. She’s already got a plan and I bet I know what it is. “You’re talking about Mika.”
She confirms it when she shrugs. “She’s mature, she did fine this weekend on very short notice, and she’s right here.”
“Maybe so, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t come here to wait fucking tables all summer.”
“Only one way to find out, Boss. She’s home now, I can go find out.” She pushes out of her chair and makes for the door when I stop her.
“I’ll do it.”
“Suit yourself,” she says, with a knowing little smile, before she disappears down the hallway.
Mandy will just manipulate her into saying yes, but I want to make sure Mika gets to make up her own mind.
With Kelty in my care, my hands are tied; otherwise, I could take over at least part of Trish’s schedule myself. The only reason I was able to jump in this past weekend was because my daughter was at Cassie and Mark’s place.
My phone rings just as I’m about to head over to the cottage. It’s my dad calling.
“Hey, Dad. How are things?”
The last two years, since my mother passed away, my father’s had a really hard time. At seventy-two, he’s still in pretty good shape physically, and prior to Mom’s death he was still very interested in the world around him, but since then he’s been slipping.
My brother, Ethan, who lives with his family just north of Boston, keeps an eye on him. I call as much as I can, or pop by when I’m in town, but we can’t make up for Mom’s absence.
“I’m a’ight. How’s that granddaughtah of mine?” My dad, whose Boston accent only seems to get thicker as he ages, adores Kelty. He loves all his grandchildren—Ethan has two teenage boys—but I guess Kelty is as much his ‘princess’ as she is mine.
“Doing good, Dad. She’s keeping up with her schoolwork, but this is the last week before summer vacation sets in and she can’t wait to be off the hook.”
“I bet.” Dad’s raspy chuckle is good to hear.
“Why don’t you come down?” I suggest, having a light bulb moment. “Drive down, pack enough so you can spend the summer with us? House is big enough, Dad.”
“Ah, I don’t know…”
“Think about it, I’d love for you to come, and I know Kelty would be over the moon. Truth is, Dad, I could use your help. I’m in a bit of a bind.”
It’s quiet on the other side for a moment while I wait for him to bite. “A bind?” he finally echoes. “What aw ya talking about?”
“Remember Trish? She had a stroke yesterday.”
“Too young,” he rumbles.
“You’re not kidding. She appears to be stable, but no matter what, this isn’t something you just bounce back from. Which leaves me short my best server. I can jump in, but there isn’t a lot I can do with Kelty here. I’m not sure what your plans are for the summer, but…” I let my words trail off. I know damn well he’s got nothing planned, but I want him to think about it.
“You need my help.”
“Shit, Dad, I sure could use it. Only a few people I feel comfortable leaving Kelty with, ya know.”
Again he makes me wait. He hasn’t really been out of the house much in the past two years, and I know this won’t be easy for him, but it may well be just what he needs.
“A’ight. Guess I could come for a while.”
I try to keep the grin that’s on my face from my voice. “Sooner the better, Dad. I appreciate it, it’s a load off my shoulders.”
Mandy isn’t the only one good at manipulating people.
I’m glad when he offers to be here before the weekend. Maybe this will be a solution that benefits us all in the end.
Knowing I’ll be able to shoulder part of the load, I feel better about approaching Mika for help. One down, one to go.
“Keep an eye on Kelty? I’ll be right back,” I call out to Mandy, who’s behind the bar, on my way out.
Thankfully the sun is breaking through the thick deck of clouds we woke up to. Walking up to the cottage, I just catch Mika stepping out the door with a book and a mug in her hand.
It’s a good thing the weekend was busy. I let my guard down Friday night when I kissed her. Feeling her soft lips under mine sent my attraction to stratospheric heights, terrifying the shit out of me. I can’t recall ever feeling this strong, almost instinctual, draw to a woman.
It would be easy to forget she’s just going to be here for the summer, especially now that she’s working alongside me in the restaurant. I know it’s
probably smarter to keep a bit of distance, but I can’t deny even just the sight of her does something to me.
“Morning,” I call out.
“Hey,” she returns with a cautious smile. I imagine she probably remembers last time we were on her porch. Or maybe I’m just hoping she does.
“Sorry to barge in. I have something to ask you.”
I tell her about Trish—she appears as shocked as I was—about my dad coming out to help, before I ask if she’d be at all interested in more hours. She seems to hesitate before she answers.
“You mean take over all her shifts?”
“Even just a few a week would help, I can take care of the rest. But no pressure at all—I know you didn’t really come here to work, and I don’t know what your plans are—I just wanted to see if you’d be interested before I start hiring outside help.”
Another pause.
“I don’t really have set plans for the summer. I’d just like to do a bit of exploring. Bring my camera.” She looks over at the restaurant and the water beyond, where I just notice the heron swooping in for a meal.
“Tips are good,” I find myself encouraging her. “And meals are included.” I catch myself, realizing how stupid I sound. I imagine she’s not suffering as a sports journalist. “Not that it’s necessarily a concern for you,” I add, only shoving my foot in farther, but she surprises me.
Then There Was You: A Single Parent Collection Page 107