“Yeah,” Chloe said. “She was a perfect angel. We’ll get out of your hair.”
Laura put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Stay. Watch the game.”
“You sure?”
Laura nodded and sat next to Chloe. “What did you do tonight?”
“Ordered pizza,” her friend said. “Then Jonathan over there insisted we take Emma out for ice cream.”
“Of course he did,” she replied. “The sweet tooth strikes again, huh, Harvard?”
He tore his gaze away from the game and held his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re not one of those no-sugar moms, are you?”
Relieved that the awkwardness between them seemed to have dissipated, she shot back, “You saw how much syrup she put on her pancakes, didn’t you?”
He grinned. “Okay, then. Good.”
“She have fun?”
“Yummiest ice cream of all time,” he said, his voice a little breathless. He managed to keep a straight face for about two milliseconds before he broke back into a grin.
Laura snorted. “You really are a nerd, aren’t you?”
He patted his chest. “Oh, no! Forgot my pocket protector in Boston.”
Chloe was looking back and forth between them, a bemused look in her eyes. “Aaaand that’s our cue.” She whacked Brett on the foot to get him up. “Good night, all. Peace out.”
“Nice to meet you, man. See you tomorrow,” Brett said to Jonathan, giving him a goodbye fist bump.
“One o’clock,” Jonathan said.
Brett nodded. “You got it.”
The door closed behind them, and Laura turned to Jonathan. “What’s at one o’clock tomorrow?”
“Ball hockey.”
“Oo-kay.”
He shrugged. “Brett needs help with some youth ministry kids or something.”
“Oh. Oh! That’s nice of you to help.”
He hitched his shoulder again. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I haven’t played in a long time.”
“Such modesty, Harvard.” She gave his shin a playful kick. “I bet you were the captain of your fancy Ivy League team, weren’t you?”
He laughed. “No. But I played all kinds of hockey growing up—ice hockey, field hockey, street hockey, you name it.”
Now it was Laura’s turn to laugh. “You’ll be great. The kids will love you.”
“Yeah?” There was something oddly vulnerable, oddly hopeful, in his eyes.
“If Emma’s any indication...yeah, for sure.”
“She’s a sweet kid,” he said. “You’re obviously doing something right.”
She always felt strange when people complimented her parenting, as though she was taking credit for something she hadn’t earned. “Gram always said kids are their own little people right from the start. The hard work for a parent is to just not screw them up.”
“Like I said,” he reiterated, “you’re clearly doing a great job.”
She bit her lip, stared off into space. She didn’t feel like she was doing such a stellar job of things, especially not lately, when she’d been so distracted by everything that had happened with Gram. But she couldn’t tell him that, could she? After this morning, she knew she needed to keep her guard up around him. Needed to keep herself safe.
She could feel him watching her, though. Feel his gaze. She’d spent over an hour at her grandmother’s graveside tonight. She was tired and lonely and sad. Regardless of whether or not it should be up, her guard was down.
After a long moment, he said, “Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head, still biting her lip.
“Then, what?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned. “What is it?”
“It’s just... Sometimes it was easier, before Gram got sick. To think that her dad’s not being here wouldn’t make such a big difference. That it wouldn’t mess Emma up.”
“Why would it have to mess her up?” he asked, his voice low.
She laughed, but there was no humor in her tone. “Well, my own dad was there but he wasn’t there, not in the way that matters, and look at my sister. Look at me.”
His eyes were puzzled. “What about you?”
She hitched a shoulder. “Married at twenty. Divorced at twenty-one. Wanting him to give me the love I never got from my father, but choosing the exact same kind of man.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “That guy was a jerk.”
“But I picked him, Jonathan. I said yes.” That was the crux of it, right there—why she hadn’t even tried dating since Conrad left. Because she couldn’t trust herself. She had bad instincts when it came to men.
“People make mistakes,” he said. “People learn.”
She rubbed her face. “Sometimes I feel like I’m setting her up for failure.”
He leaned forward and took her hand the way she’d taken his on the jetty, and in the car on the way to Beacon Light. “She’s a beautiful, happy kid. The only thing you’re setting her up for is success.”
She bit her lip again, looked him in the eye. “You think?”
He nodded. “I know.”
She let his confidence buoy her, and released a long breath. “Thanks.”
He ran his thumb lightly over her knuckles before letting her hand drop. Then he sat back and crossed his ankle loosely over his knee. “Your friends are nice.”
She nodded. “They’re awesome.”
“Think you can help me get those documents together tomorrow? I really need to get moving on the purchase offer. My boss is going to send out a search party for me if I don’t get back to the office pretty soon.”
Laura considered the man in front of her. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing at the trampoline park, his blue golf shirt open at the collar, his dark hair unruly without its usual gel. It was late, and he had a definite five o’clock shadow going on.
She was fairly certain he had no idea about the stipulation her grandmother had made in her will. She thought about telling him about it then and there, but selfishly decided to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want him to leave just yet. Let him stay for the weekend, and then she’d give him all the documents, and then he’d go.
“Why is this deal so important to you?” she asked.
“I’m a sixth-year associate at my firm. It’s now or never if I want to make partner.”
“And without this deal, you don’t think you’re going to make it?”
He looked away. “Without this deal, I know I’m not going to make it. My boss told me as much last week.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
His mouth quirked into a half grin. “It’s weird. I had this plan, you know? From the time I was maybe twelve or thirteen, I always knew I was going to get a college scholarship, get into law school and work for one of the top-tier law firms. I didn’t care that the hours would be crazy. I didn’t care that I’d be on call day and night, vacations, holidays, dates, whenever—because in the end, there’d be this huge payoff. I’d be a partner. I’d be made.” He stared at the wall. “Now... I don’t know, it’s like, if this thing doesn’t happen, were the last twenty years of my life just a waste? Was it all for nothing?”
She recognized his pain—boy, did she ever. Before she’d found Christ, she’d done all the right things, checked all the right boxes, and still, when her parents had moved away and left her, all her self-esteem had gone up in smoke. For a couple of years, everything had felt so precarious—as though the rug could be pulled out from under her at any moment, as though the other shoe was always about to beat her over the head. It was an exhausting way to live, knowing you were building castles on sand but unaware that there were any other options.
“Nothing is for nothing,” she said carefully. “Ultimately, all things work together for our good.”
He raked a han
d through his hair, which was all over the place. Laura had to tamp down an urge to reach up and smooth it down.
“You’re the second person to quote that verse to me this evening.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “Then maybe it’s something you really needed to hear.”
He raised a shoulder noncommittally. “Maybe.”
“Do you, um... Do you want to go to church with us tomorrow? Me and Emma?” For some reason, her heart was pounding. She hadn’t intended to invite him to worship with her—the invitation had just slipped out, almost as though her words were not her own. Was this what God wanted from her? To witness to this man?
His eyes went wide. “I’m not really much of a churchgoer.”
“I wasn’t, either,” she said simply, “until I was.”
“I’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”
“I think you should come,” she said quietly. “I...I’d like it if you came.”
“You would?”
She nodded.
“Church, huh?” He scraped a hand across his jaw. “My mom would be happy. I guess I’ll come.”
Chapter Nine
Jonathan dressed in a suit and tie for the church service and headed downstairs in search of coffee. He wasn’t disappointed. The dining room was filled with the scent of an aromatic hazelnut brew. “Hello?” he called out, peeking into the kitchen.
“Mr. Jonafin!” Emma shouted. She was helping her mom take the dishes out of the dishwasher, but jumped off her step stool at the sight of him to give him a hug.
He ruffled her hair. “Morning, Tiny.” Then he turned to Laura. “Hey. Any problems with the dishwasher?”
She shook her head and smiled. “You did good, Harvard. Works like a charm.”
He felt a jolt of satisfaction run through him. If he could have nothing else, he wanted to leave here knowing that he’d made this woman’s life a little bit easier. “I’m glad. I’ll check the rattraps in a minute.”
“There’s coffee in the dining room.”
“Thanks,” he said. “How about it, Tiny? Want to help me get my breakfast?”
“Yeah!” she cried, charging ahead.
Laura put the last plate away and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “If you don’t go quickly, she’s going to pour you a bowl of Lucky Charms, Frosted Flakes and Cap’n Crunch.”
He rubbed his hands together like a greedy old man. “You know I love me some sugar.”
Her eyes twinkled. “But not unless you get out for your run.”
Ah, he thought wistfully, she already knows me so well.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
She leaned against the kitchen counter. “Shoot.”
“When was the last time this place was updated?”
“What?” She did a Vanna White flourish to indicate the very ’70s kitchen around them. “You don’t like retro?”
“Um, not when it’s a PR term for ‘old and run-down.’”
“Ouch.”
“No offense,” he said quickly.
She grinned. “None taken.”
Emma popped back into the kitchen. “Mommy, I spilled the milk.”
“Okay, honey, I’m coming.” She grabbed a dishrag and followed Emma into the dining room. Jonathan trailed after them. Laura mopped up the milk and then looked at him. “You mind watching her for a few minutes while I get ready for church?”
“Of course not. What’d you make for me, Tiny?”
Sure enough, she’d poured him a bowlful of assorted sugar cereals, and also made him a piece of “yogurt toast.” It wasn’t the best thing he’d ever eaten, but it also wasn’t the worst.
It didn’t take Laura long to get ready, and before he knew it, he was walking toward a white clapboard church with a bell tower next to Laura and Emma, feeling completely out of place. The grass out front was sparse, the ground beneath it sandy. Seagulls swooped overhead.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to church—he hadn’t gone home last Christmas, choosing instead to work and grab Chinese takeout with a couple of his colleagues from the firm. He’d rationalized it by saying his sister would be with his mom, but really, how far away was Upstate New York? A half day’s drive from Boston, and he hadn’t been able to find the time to see her on what was arguably the most important day of the year?
Up ahead Brett and Chloe stood by the doors to the church, smiling as they ushered people inside. Chloe was in a colorful, patterned ’80s dress, complete with shoulder pads. Her brother Brett’s hair was slicked back this morning, and he was wearing very respectable pressed gray pants and a collared shirt. “Jonathan,” he called, holding out his hand. “Good to see you, man.”
Jonathan nodded and clasped his hand. “Brett. Chloe.”
Chloe shot a significant glance at her friend, then turned to him, beaming. “We didn’t expect to see you here this fine morning.”
He looked at Laura, who was blushing, and didn’t know what to say. From inside the church, the first notes of a worship song started up. “Oh, better head in,” Brett directed.
“Save us a seat?” Chloe asked Laura.
“Sure thing.”
Laura dropped Emma off at her Sunday school class, and then led Jonathan up the center aisle of the church to a pew in the third row. He hung back as she slipped in and greeted a woman who slid down to make room for them.
In front of them, behind the altar, was a projection screen with the words to the song the band—featuring an electric keyboard, three guitars and drums—was playing. Beside him, Laura launched into the song wholeheartedly, a hymn about chains breaking, hearts changing, people being freed and forgiven.
After the song, people clapped boisterously from the pews. One of the guitarists, bespectacled and wearing dark blue jeans, set his instrument down and wandered to the pulpit.
“Isn’t that what we all want?” the pastor/guitarist said mildly, removing his glasses to clean them on his blue linen shirt. “To be free? Free from sin? Free from death? Free from the ties that bind us?”
“Amen!” a couple of people called out. Jonathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t used to ardent worship. He wasn’t used to people who were passionate about anything other than money and power and well-tailored suits.
From the aisle Chloe touched his shoulder, and Jonathan got up so she could sit on the opposite side of Laura. Brett sat next to him, on the end of the row.
“We’re going to talk more about freedom a little later in the service,” the pastor went on, “but before we get started, I see some new faces here this morning. Let’s take a moment to welcome them to Wychmere Community Church.”
With that, the pastor strode out of the pulpit and straight to where Jonathan was sitting. “Hi. Pastor Nate Anderson. It’s good to meet you.” Jonathan felt his cheeks heat as he shook hands with the man.
* * *
After the service, in the church hall, Laura took a bite of her maple-frosted doughnut and looked toward the coffee machine, where Brett and Pastor Nate had cornered Jonathan.
“So, spill it, sister. What’s the story?” Chloe steepled her fingers and gave her shoulder pads an anticipatory shake.
Laura suppressed a wry smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no story.”
“Oh, come on,” Chloe said. “He obviously likes you. You two were getting seriously flirty last night.”
“We were not!”
Chloe laughed. “You’re hilarious.”
Laura shook her head. “This is a business trip for him, that’s all.”
“It’s business, sure. But he also likes you.”
“I—” Laura stopped. “We don’t have the same values. It would never work.”
“What would it hurt to give the guy a chance?”
“And end up with someone l
ike my dad or Conrad, who works sixteen hours a day? No, thanks.”
Chloe took a bite of her Boston cream doughnut, a splotch of cream falling onto her dress. “Not every guy with a good job is a snake like Conrad, you know.”
“I know,” Laura conceded, “but if I ever get married again, I want to be with someone who actually cares about being part of a church community and doing the right thing.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about getting married?”
Laura felt her face heat up. She was not thinking about marrying Jonathan. That was beyond absurd, and she was mortified with her choice of words. To cover up her embarrassment, she made her next statement general and hypothetical. “Why date if you don’t want to get married?”
“Um, I don’t know, sister. Fun?”
Laura gave her a skeptical look. “I’ve got a daughter, Chlo. I’m not looking for fun.” She paused for a split second—thinking of how much fun it was to talk to Jonathan, watch him play with Emma—and then added, “Or not just fun, I guess. I want forever, too.”
“Fair enough,” Chloe said, licking the last of her doughnut off her fingers. “But maybe if you stop waiting around for forever, forever will come to you.” She glanced pointedly at the guys, and Laura followed her gaze. Surprisingly, Jonathan didn’t look uncomfortable or out of place here in the church hall. He actually looked engaged with whatever Brett and Pastor Nate were saying.
“And isn’t it strange,” Chloe continued, slanting a coy glance at her friend, “that the man who doesn’t know what to do with the fact that you’re a Christian shows up here with you?”
Laura shrugged, trying not to get too wrapped up in what Chloe was trying to say. “I thought about what Gram always said about being a good witness.”
“A good witness, huh?” Chloe grinned.
Laura gave her friend a quelling stare. “Yes, Chlo, a good witness.”
“All righty, then. Here comes your man.” She swirled her hand in a mock flourish. “Witness away.”
* * *
Falling for the Innkeeper Page 9