“He is,” Gracie said to her sister.
Holding one hand out to bar her darling daughters from walking right up to the bed to get a better look, she hurriedly signed the note. “When he wakes up and sees this he’ll know the barbecue has been postponed until tomorrow. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Violet planted her feet in front of the table and began to draw a rainbow on the stationery. Communicating in their silent twin-speak, Grace accepted the small square her sister tore off for her. The instant Violet was finished with the pen, Gracie painstakingly began drawing a picture of a house.
April dropped her face into her hands. Slowly spreading her fingers, she chanced a glance at Cole.
His eyes remained closed—thank God—and his chest still rose and fell rhythmically. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t stirred.
“There,” she whispered the moment Gracie finished, too. “Let’s go. Quietly. Cole’s tired and we don’t want to wake him.”
“Why’s he tired?”
“I don’t know, Violet.”
“Why isn’t he wearing any pajamas?” Gracie asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Do we have to wear pajamas tonight?” Violet asked.
“Yes, you do.” April practically dragged them out of the room, as they craned their necks to get one last look at the man inside. Pulling the door closed behind them, April fought the desire to sag against the wall in relief.
They met Harriet on their way to the stairs. “There you two are,” she said to the girls. And to their mother, “Did you find him?”
“Yes,” April answered.
“He’s naked,” Gracie declared.
Harriet’s eyebrows arched tellingly. “Is that so?”
“He’s covered and sound asleep.” April found she was still whispering.
“He’s only covered up with a sheet,” Gracie insisted.
“He’s naked all right,” the girls said in unison, only to begin giggling as if life was richly entertaining.
Harriet winked, and April absolutely positively refused to say one more word on the subject.
* * *
While four females of various ages were descending the wide, open staircase in the beautiful old inn on the outskirts of Orchard Hill, Cole opened his eyes. Surfacing as if from the depths of an ocean, he blinked groggily. As the room came into focus, he saw that his phone and watch lay on the bedside table where he’d left them; the bathroom door was ajar, also as he’d left it; and his room door was closed.
Everything appeared to be as it was before he’d fallen into bed, and yet he had the strangest sensation that someone had been here. Maybe there really was a ghost haunting the inn.
From down the hall came the sounds of muffled conversation and giggles. He recognized April’s voice, and that twitter had to belong to Harriet, and the gigglers sounded suspiciously like Violet and Gracie.
What were April and the girls doing at the inn? On the second floor, no less?
He went up on one elbow and saw three squares of paper on the table near the door. Something came to him then, a memory not entirely formed. Had someone called his name?
He swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up. Pulling on yesterday’s jeans, he found his feet and limped across the room. He picked up all three sheets of paper. The first was from April, the other two from her little girls. There was no ghost in Cole’s room; there was only the ghost of his smile, the first he’d experienced in a long time.
* * *
The barbecue was in full swing in April’s backyard on Sunday evening. Ben and Will Avery and their wives were playing a beanbag game. Kristy and Gabby were winning, and they were making sure everyone knew it. Several feet away Jim Avery was holding his newest grandson in the crook of his arm, while nearly a dozen other children ran around the yard playing tag and screaming as loud as they could while their mothers grimaced and their fathers pretended they didn’t hear. Two of April’s neighbors and her mother-in-law were discussing a book they’d read recently.
April glided from one group to the next with beverages, a tray of appetizers and a welcoming smile. Although she didn’t say it, she felt the lack of Jay’s presence. Everyone did.
Cole wasn’t here yet.
For the first hour everyone had kept a close eye on the gate, so certain that he would attend. Who could resist this crowd? Now, they weren’t so sure.
They started the grills and brought out the food. The party continued and laughter and heated discussions abounded. Parents were helping kids with their plates in the food line when Will yelled, “He’s here!”
A collective breath was drawn at the first glimpse of the dark-haired man rounding the corner of the house. Seeing that it was Marsh Sullivan, everyone’s collective breath became a collective sigh, which prompted Marsh to say, “Sorry we’re late. Julia was resting.”
Carrying their son, he kept a protective hand on his new wife’s back. Julia Sullivan wore a peach-colored ball cap that didn’t fully conceal her baldness. Although there were dark smudges beneath her eyes, she smiled regally all around and said, “I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
Guests swarmed the couple. Gabby Avery gave one-and-a-half-year-old Joey a cookie and April brought Marsh and Julia a beverage. JoAnn Avery, the matriarch of them all, led the couple to the shaded patio. After shooing her oldest grandson out of one of the chairs, she fussed until she was satisfied that Julia was comfortable.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Other than tiring easily, I’m feeling great,” Julia replied.
“Of course she’s feeling great,” Julia’s sister-in-law Lacey insisted. “The big C is gone.”
“Kaput,” a neighbor said.
“Good riddance,” Marsh added, worry creeping across his face.
“Not just gone,” Lacey exclaimed. “That sniveling breast cancer has been annihilated. It wouldn’t dare come back.”
For all the agreeable responses, everyone knew it was too soon to rest easy, even though everyone pretended for Marsh and Julia’s sake.
Burgers were loaded onto buns and plates heaped high. All the while, a dozen pairs of eyes kept watch for one more guest to walk through the gate.
Another hour passed. As the sun eased toward the western horizon, the party began showing signs of winding down. Ice cream treats were doled out to everyone, and as was the custom near the end of every Avery outdoor gathering, Will and Ben brought out a plastic tub filled with water balloons. After listening to a quick recitation of rules set by their parents, Gracie and Violet and each of their cousins and neighbors grabbed a handful of water balloons. And the screeching resumed.
April sank into a chair at the patio table. And sighed. She told herself she shouldn’t be disappointed Cole hadn’t joined them. He’d never said he would come.
But she’d thought—
She’d hoped—
For what, a miracle? Apparently it would have taken a miracle to bring him here to meet this kindhearted crowd.
“Cole’s not coming,” her best friend, Lacey said, pushing her dark hair out of her face and breaking into April’s reverie.
Casting a wistful glance at the open gate, April shook her head. “It doesn’t look like it.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t join us,” her mother-in-law declared. She pointed at her two surviving sons who were sneaking behind Noah’s back. “But the antics of those two don’t surprise me in the least.”
Alerted as if by some sixth sense, Lacey’s husband glanced behind him then zigzagged like a jackrabbit. The two water balloons that would have soaked the back of his shirt burst in the grass six feet away. Every woman at the table saw Noah gage the distance between him and the tub of water balloons, and knew he was planning his retaliation.
“The difference between men and boys,” Lacey said.
“Does anybody see any difference?” Gabby Avery smiled as Ben and his brother continued their dogged pursuit of Noah.
One of the balloons found its mark on the back of Noah’s head. Cold water running down his neck, he let out a yell that drew even the kids’ attention.
Noah snagged the next balloon out of thin air without popping it and hurled it back. The front of his T-shirt now wet, too, Ben yelled to his brother. “Get him, Will!”
“So tell us, April,” her mother-in-law said. “What’s Cole Cavanaugh like?”
April knew what she was really asking, for it had to do with the bond Cole and Jay had shared. JoAnn Avery had always been pretty and petite. Inside she was strong as nails. The past year had left a lingering fragility in her eyes and across her shoulders. All six of the Avery offspring had inherited their hazel eyes and stature from their father, but it was a well-known fact that their affinity for pranks came directly from their mother’s branch on the family tree.
“Cole’s tall and quiet and very intense,” April said. “He’s kind to Gracie and Violet, but I have yet to see him smile, really smile.”
A movement near the house drew her attention. Her breath caught, for it seemed another guest was joining the party after all, this one dark-haired and raw-boned and intense.
“Don’t take my word for it,” she said, wonder softening her voice. “He just walked through the gate.”
While the women turned to look, Will and Ben pitched water balloons at Noah, who was still pledging retaliation. Keeping his eyes on his pursuers, he didn’t see the man behind him, and ducked four feet in front of the unsuspecting newcomer.
A gasp went through the crowd, because Cole Cavanaugh was about to get soaked.
Chapter Five
Cars still lined April’s street when Cole arrived at her place Sunday evening. Hurrying, he followed the sounds of hardy yells and laughter around the side of the house. He’d prepared to be bombarded by Jay’s family the minute he entered the backyard.
He wasn’t expecting the water balloons that were coming right at him.
He hit his knees. The first two balloons sailed over his head. The third nicked his elbow, wetting his sleeve and sending a cool mist into the air.
Cole had an eye for detail and quickly cataloged the group of guests gathered in the backyard the same way he’d gauged the speed and direction of those balloons. There were a dozen kids running around and nearly twenty adults present. April was the only one in yellow. She seemed to have frozen along with the others.
Before his injury, rising from his knees and springing to his feet would have been a painless, effortless proposition. He could still get up. It was just a matter of remembering to lead with his right foot as if rising from a genuflection. He was in the process of starting the maneuver when a man with graying hair came forward and extended his hand. As Cole squinted into the sun, something deep inside him went perfectly still, for he suddenly knew how Jay would have looked in thirty-five years.
This wasn’t the way he’d planned to meet Jay’s father, but he took the hand without hesitation. On his feet again, he said, “Thank you, sir.”
Jim Avery had a full head of gray hair. He’d passed his build and hazel eyes on to his son. In his late sixties now, Jay’s father was one of those men who would stand proud and handsome into his eighties; he also had a strong grip and a steady gaze.
Cole had rehearsed what he would say to this man, but before he could even begin, Mr. Avery cuffed him on the arm and called, “Somebody get this boy a plate of food.” With that, he stepped aside to give the rest of the guests their turn.
Cole found April with his gaze. She gave him a tentative smile, but didn’t come forward to make introductions. It was better this way. He was here, alone. It was best that everyone saw that.
The next person to shake his hand had dark shaggy hair, a genuine smile and a swagger that had former troublemaker written all over it. “Noah Sullivan,” he said. “That was close. You have good reflexes.”
“It takes one to know one,” Cole replied.
Jay’s brother Ben shouldered Noah aside and introduced himself and his wife, Gabby, a savvy strawberry blonde with brown eyes and a ready smile. Somebody brought around a cooler filled with beverages and someone else handed him a plate of food even though he’d insisted he’d already eaten. He took a bite of a burger to be polite then put the plate down.
A tall, intense man named Marsh Sullivan introduced Cole to a fragile-looking woman wearing a pink ball cap, and a sturdy baby named Joey. Cole didn’t know what color Julia Sullivan’s hair would be when it grew back, but her eyes were blue, her bearing proud. She may have been pale, but she had a fighter’s smile. It humbled him, and reminded him that there was more than one kind of war.
Cole’s hand was shaken, his cheek kissed. Always, he was aware of April’s whereabouts.
While he met two of Jay’s sisters and their husbands, April was holding an unbelievably tiny baby. As he showed Jay’s brothers the drawing of the plans for April’s remodel, she picked up plates. He was flanked by two of her neighbors who were telling him about new car dealership south of town and the best place to get a cup of coffee in Orchard Hill when she bent down to tie Violet’s shoe. He noticed the way her dress fit and the way the sun reflected off something shiny in her hair.
More than anything, he noticed that she met his gaze from wherever she was, and each time it happened, he felt a greater pull. He wanted her. But after his heart-to-heart talk at Jay’s grave yesterday, he was more determined than ever to keep it to himself.
Turning his attention to April’s guests, he spoke with Lacey Sullivan, who was expecting twins anytime, and did his best to pay close attention when Gracie and Violet introduced the other children at the party. There was a boy named Zachary, two girls, Maddie and JoJo, Maddie’s puppy, Rascal, and a passel of other kids who were more interested in playing than introductions.
After meeting nearly everyone, he found a quiet spot near the food table where April stood surveying her backyard. The tops of her shoulders were pink, her hair lifting in the soft breeze. Man, she was pretty.
“Are you taking a breather, too?” she asked.
“Something like that.” He accepted the can of ginger ale she held out to him, and felt the thrum run up his arm when his fingers brushed hers. When it didn’t stop at his arm, he reeled his awareness in. He could do this. He’d fought, he’d bled, he’d lost. He’d survived. Surely resisting this attraction to Jay’s widow would be one more thing he survived. He’d made a promise to Jay on that battlefield, and doing so had brought him a small portion of peace. That was why he’d come to Orchard Hill, to April.
He wanted her, though. More than he’d ever dreamed he would.
* * *
April sensed a dozen pairs of eyes on her as she finally came face-to-face with Cole. She’d intended to be the first to greet him when he arrived, but when Jay’s father gave Cole a hand getting up, she’d hung back, giving them their moment. After that, he handled introductions on his own. He may have preferred small groups, but no matter what he said, he was good with people.
He was a hero, and she staked no proprietary claim on him. He wasn’t hers. Of course he wasn’t hers. But whether he knew it yet or not, the moment he’d placed his hand in her father-in-law’s, he’d become one of them.
She hadn’t recovered from witnessing the silent exchange. Her breathing felt shallower and her heart beat stronger. It was as if she’d turned a corner in the dark, lonely tunnel she’d been lost in, and could suddenly see a light up ahead.
Her guests had children to put to bed and work in the morning, yet they’d stayed to meet Cole. Some had spoken to him alone, others in pairs. All came away swallowing hard or blinking back tears.
Cole had to know how much his presence meant to everyone. She couldn’t be certain what meeting them meant to him
, for he kept his expression carefully schooled. He was attentive to whomever he was listening to, but guarded.
What was he guarding?
He tipped his can of ginger ale up, and she saw that his knuckles were scraped. There was nothing unusual about that, or about his faded jeans and blue cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. It wasn’t his appearance that changed the rhythm of her heartbeat. This went far deeper than that.
“You must have found my note,” she said, because she couldn’t go on staring at him forever no matter how much he intrigued her.
“And Gracie’s and Violet’s artwork. I have two complete sets of my own now.”
She liked the deep timbre of his voice, liked the shape of his mouth and the dark coffee color of his hair. She especially liked the way his eyes darkened every time they delved into hers.
“I swear your door wasn’t locked yesterday. It opened by itself on a cross breeze. I called your name. I really did try to wake you,” she said.
“I thought I was dreaming.”
“I didn’t think you were going to make it to the party.”
“I intended to get here earlier, but I helped Kyle Merrick cut up the tree uprooted in the storm, and time got away from us. I didn’t mean to keep your guests waiting.”
Her guests, and not her? she wondered. He’d made the distinction and she’d noticed.
“You were right about this crowd,” he said. “So far I’ve received a quick education on the weather, the fluctuating market value of apples, the art of flying, swollen ankles, the last race for town council and at least ten potential problems with my plan for your upstairs.”
“I told you. And did they share some memory of Jay?”
He nodded. “Obviously there are sides to him I didn’t know.”
She got lost for a moment in the depth in his eyes.
“There’s still one person I haven’t met.”
“Yes.” April wasn’t surprised he’d been keeping track. “Jay’s mom wants you to know she’s been saving the best for last for you.”
A Man 0f His Word (Round-The-Clock Brides Book 4) Page 7