by Hope Ramsay
The expression on Noah’s face when he got out of his car did nothing to reassure Abby. He looked a little rumpled. Had he been out searching for her? Oh God, please no.
“What are you doing out here this time of the morning?” he asked, striding up the walk.
So he hadn’t been searching for her. It took her a moment but then she realized that he hadn’t come home either.
“Oh shit, who was looking after Momma last night?” they said in near unison.
Thankfully Noah had his key and opened the front door. They rushed into the house only to find Momma in the kitchen frying up some bacon. “I can only assume y’all had a good time last night,” she said, her gaze bouncing from one to the other.
Was she mad? Or amused? It was kind of hard to tell.
Noah spoke first. “I am so sorry, Momma. I thought—”
“I know exactly what you thought.” Momma’s gaze shifted to Abby. “And you too. Maybe y’all should coordinate your social calendars. Or not. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine this morning, except for being worried about y’all.”
“I’m sorry,” Abby said, guilt springing up inside her.
“Not your fault,” Noah said. “I was supposed to be on call here, and I…” He didn’t finish the sentence.
Momma’s mouth twitched just a little bit at the corner, as if she was amused. “Yes, you were.”
“Wait a sec,” Abby said, turning toward her older brother. “Where exactly were you? Was there an emergency?” And if he wasn’t at an emergency, who the hell had he been with? That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.
He shook his head. “No emergency.” And then he turned abruptly and headed off to the guest room at the back of the house, ending any attempt Abby might have made to cross-examine him.
Momma watched him go, a strange expression on her face.
“What is going on inside your head?” Abby asked.
“I think the Episcopal ladies have it all wrong. Lia isn’t interested in Reverend St. Pierre.”
Abby stood there for a long moment. “Holy crap. You think she might convince him to stay?”
Momma shrugged. “It’s what I’m praying for.” Then she turned and gave Abby the evil eye. “And I’m praying that you know what the hell you’re doing, girl.”
“Momma, I’m fine.”
“Yeah, well, that remains to be seen.”
“I thought you were on my side.”
“I am. But only because I know that Ethan and your daddy are wrong to try to keep you safe inside a cage. But I still worry now that you’ve decided to test out those wings of yours.”
* * *
Ashley and Judy, her assistant, were busier than one-armed paper-hangers in the mornings, especially the week of July Fourth. The inn was full of guests, and even at 7:30 a.m., four guests were awaiting breakfast.
It was Wednesday—omelet day. Luckily Judy loved to make omelets. And her omelets came out light and fluffy and unbroken, a knack Ashley had never mastered in her life.
So the innkeeper was freed from the kitchen on Wednesdays and served coffee and chatted with guests in between runs to check on the multiple batches of biscuits she baked every morning.
Ashley usually got up at five-thirty. So she’d seen Noah Cuthbert sneaking down the stairway and out the front door. And she was still wondering how she felt about the situation and wondering why she’d been so willing to cover for Lia last night.
The church board would probably take a dim view of their secretary entertaining men in her room overnight. But really, it was the twenty-first century, and Lia DiPalma had been in the navy. So they could hardly expect her to be a virgin.
And she certainly couldn’t fault the woman’s taste in men. Noah was certainly one of the most eligible bachelors in town.
Even if he didn’t exactly live here.
No, Ashley wasn’t all that troubled by what had gone on up in the attic last night. More power to them. If anything, a little part of her—the youngish woman who had not stopped living when Adam died—was a tad bit jealous.
Not that she would ever be ready to take a lover. The idea scared her to death.
But she missed having Adam in her bed. Maybe not so much in the middle of summer, but on those cold December nights right before Christmas…
And just like that, the grief hit like a wave. She never knew when it would sneak up on her. She swallowed it back and ran back out to the dining room to deliver more hot biscuits and bask in the praise they always brought her.
She’d just made a circuit of the room when the front door opened and Rev. St. Pierre strolled across the threshold. It promised to be a hot day today so he wasn’t wearing a dark shirt or jacket. Just a gray short-sleeved shirt with its backward collar and a pair of darker gray slacks.
His face lit up when he saw her standing in the middle of the dining room with a basket of biscuits in her hand.
“Are they hot?” he asked.
“They are.”
“I was wondering if you had room for one more at your table?”
“Of course,” she said, her heart doing something a little crazy in her chest. Why was it doing that thing? She’d made it abundantly clear to the Rev that he was welcome at her breakfast table any morning. He didn’t come every morning, but he showed up like clockwork on Wednesdays. He really liked Judy’s omelets.
And for some reason that irked her. Why didn’t he come on Fridays when she served her extra-special French toast, which she cooked herself?
She pushed that out of her mind, along with the things Lia had said last night. About how he was a great guy. What the hell had she meant when she’d said the “coast was clear?” Was she suggesting that Ashley had a crush on the minister? That was just idiotic.
A moment ago, she’d been near tears remembering Adam. She wasn’t ever going to get over Adam. Losing a husband wasn’t like breaking up with a boyfriend.
People just didn’t understand that.
She escaped to the kitchen and told Judy to make another omelet. The special western kind that the Rev liked so much.
She took another batch of biscuits out of the wall oven, dropped them into a basket, and headed back to the dining room, basket in one hand and coffee urn in the other.
Jackie had joined the table. No big surprise there. He always joined the table when the Rev came for breakfast. The two of them were thick as thieves sometimes.
She dropped the basket of biscuits onto the long table and refreshed coffee cups. Her B&B didn’t have separate tables for guests. Food was served at a long communal table, and she encouraged her guests to view the experience like a family meal.
It pleased her to see that the guests staying in the Green Room and the family renting Rose Cottage were discussing their plans for the day, which included touring some of the historic plantations nearby.
Jackie and the Rev weren’t part of this conversation. They sat at the end of the table, heads together, Jackie looking up at Micah St. Pierre with a certain amount of hero worship that gnawed at Ashley. She wasn’t sure the Rev, who didn’t see Jackie’s fixation on the pirate William Teal as a problem, was entirely good for her son.
She approached to fill the Rev’s coffee cup and overheard her son saying, “So you think it’s possible for him to get to heaven?”
“Absolutely,” the minister said.
“For who to get to heaven?” Ashley asked, leaning over the Rev to fill his cup. She caught a whiff of his scent. What kind of soap did the man use, because he always smelled so good?
“Your ghost,” the Rev said.
“Really? Are you encouraging him?” she asked, putting one hand on her hip.
“Mom, he’s real, no matter what you or Dr. Vandemeer says.”
She clamped her back teeth together to stop herself from bawling the kid out in front of the guests. He was getting to that age where he had a mouth on him. And he’d made it clear that he didn’t much like Dr. Vandemeer, the psychologist Jackie w
ent to see once a week at his school’s request. The doctor felt that Jackie’s imaginary pirate friend was the boy’s way of dealing with his father’s untimely death.
Which sort of explained why Jackie had gravitated to the minister. The Rev never tried to talk Jackie out of believing there was a ghost haunting Howland House.
“I’m not encouraging him,” the Rev said, turning to look at Ashley over his shoulder. “I’m consulting on the question of how to help a spirit go into the light.”
“Right.”
He smiled. The man had big white teeth that gleamed from his dark face. All in all, it was a wonderful, warm, compassionate smile. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he said in that deep baritone.
“I have plenty of faith, but I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“More’s the pity,” he said, just as Judy arrived with his omelet.
“So how, exactly, do you intend to help this ghost into the light?” she found herself asking. “Because honestly I’d like him gone one way or another.”
The minister took a bite of his omelet, clearly savoring Judy’s cooking. He took his own sweet time swallowing before speaking. “Jackie says the captain is stuck here until he helps enough lost souls find their way.”
“On account of the fact that he was a lost soul himself,” Jackie added.
“A lost soul?” Ashley asked.
The boy nodded. “The Cap’n says he valued treasure above love. And roving the salty main above hearth and home.” When the boy quoted his pirate, he dropped into a strange, almost British accent. Clearly he’d watched Pirates of the Caribbean one too many times.
“Okay, so has he saved any lost souls recently?”
Jackie nodded. “Cap’n says he had something to do with Miss Jenna and Mr. Jude.”
The Rev laughed. “And here I thought I was the main matchmaker.”
“Who else?” Ashley asked.
“Well, he’s working on Miss Lia right now.”
The Rev snorted again. “Well, he’s got that right. She is a lost soul.”
“And you aim to find her too?” Ashley asked in a tone just a little too sharp.
The Rev looked up over his shoulder. “No. I have a feeling a stray dog named Prince is going to do that for me.”
“But she doesn’t want the dog.”
He nodded. “I know, but God—and Cap’n Bill, evidently—work in strange and miraculous ways. So have a little faith, Ashley Howland Scott.”
Chapter Nineteen
Lia overslept. After Noah left, she curled into a contented ball and fell into a deep sleep, probably because they hadn’t done all that much sleeping the night before. So when she awoke, it was well after eight in the morning. She rushed through her shower and walked into the clinic just before 9:00 a.m. In fact, she let in the first patient, Karen Tighe and her gigantic sheepdog, Rufus.
The doctor was in, sitting in his office sipping a cup of coffee that he’d made himself and looking good enough to eat in his usual attire of golf shirt and khakis. The smile on his face sent her blood pressure and internal temperature into the stratosphere.
“Have a good sleep?” he asked.
She didn’t respond. And she didn’t stick around either. “Your first patient is here,” she said with military precision, and beat a hasty retreat.
This was way more awkward than she’d anticipated. No wonder work-related relationships were frowned upon. They reduced efficiency. Lia couldn’t come anywhere close to him without her heart rate climbing, not to mention the fact that she lost a lot of time fantasizing about sneaking into the supply closet with him for a make-out session between patients.
And that’s exactly what happened right before lunch when she headed into the back to get Prince’s leash for his afternoon walk. Noah captured her and practically dragged her into the closet.
“I’ve never done this before,” he admitted wetly into her ear. “But I’ve heard this rumor that you have experience making out in closets.”
“Ha, ha,” she said, kissing up the warm column of his neck. “I have never made out in a closet,” she said. “However, I did play tonsil hockey with a sailor once in a ventilation junction aboard the USS Ronald Reagan.”
“What?”
“Aircraft carriers are built for function, not comfort. So if you want to get it on, you can’t do it in your rack. I mean, they are about the size of a coffin. So you have to find dark, quiet spots where no one goes. Luckily, there are a lot of those places aboard ship.”
He backed up a little and gave her a soulful look out of those big blue eyes. “I’m not sure I wanted to know that.”
“TMI?” she asked.
“I guess. I mean…” He stroked her hair. “I’m not in this for tonsil hockey.”
“No?” she raised her eyebrow.
He smiled. “Okay. I love kissing you. I love making love to you. But this isn’t casual, okay?”
She blinked as warmth spread through her. She could trust him, couldn’t she? He was a good guy. But he wasn’t sticking around. He’d made that clear. And he had good reasons for not wanting to live here.
“Okay,” she said cautiously.
“Okay?”
She drew in a deep breath. “I want to stay in Magnolia Harbor. I like it here. I like the people. And I want to work for Micah St. Pierre.” She smiled then and gave him a soft kiss. “It’s clear that I can’t work here. We’d never get anything done, and I’d embarrass you.”
“You’d never embarrass me. What makes you think that?”
She shrugged. “Okay, so I’d embarrass myself. And besides, in the #MeToo era this thing between us is probably forbidden even if it’s consensual.”
“I guess.” He sounded dejected.
“And it’s tacky. We got caught sneaking into my room last night.”
“There is that,” he said. “Let me work on finding you a place.”
“Not the one you and your mother are vacating?”
“I have changed my mind about that. After that fire on Saturday, I’m not sure the house is safe.”
“All the more reason to get your mother out of there.”
“I guess that’s true, isn’t it?” he said, the twinkle dimming in his gaze.
She stepped back, the reality of the situation crashing down on her. He was going to leave. And why not? His sick mother was living in a firetrap, his sister was heading off to college, and his practice in Charleston was probably way more challenging. He didn’t have to do well-puppy visits or deal with diabetic cats. He could just perform life-saving surgery all day long.
She could follow him. There was nothing holding her here.
Except for the fear that if she pulled up stakes, like Mom had always done, she’d continue doing it.
She was thirty-three years old, and for the first time in her life, she’d chosen where to go and where to live. She’d come here to reconnect with one of the most decent men she’d ever met. Not because she loved Micah St. Pierre, but because he’d painted a picture of his hometown over the years that had made her yearn for something she’d never had.
And he’d been right. Magnolia Harbor wasn’t perfect, but it was a damn sight better than most of the places she’d ever lived, and she’d traveled the world. She wanted to make a home here.
She wasn’t going to follow Noah, no matter how much he made her burn. All that chemistry was just lust, right? She’d only known him for a few days; she couldn’t have fallen in love with him that fast. Lust wasn’t a good reason for chucking her plans.
That was the kind of thing Mom did. She’d follow a boyfriend or run away from one. The endless moving around hadn’t always been Lia’s fault.
“I came back here to get Prince’s leash,” she said, stepping out of the closet into the main exam area. “He needs a walk.”
She hurried to the kennel room, snagged the leash, and headed back to get the dog. Noah didn’t follow her. A few minutes later, she was walking on the tree-lined sidewalk, headed for the park
.
Feeling…she wasn’t quite sure how she felt. Confused about Noah, but clear on one thing. She was not going to run away with him. She was staying put this time.
She glanced down at Prince.
If she was staying put, then she ought to admit the truth about Prince. She stopped and got down on one knee to give the puppy a big scritch behind his ears. “The jury is out on Noah, but I have fallen in love with you,” she said, letting the dog lick her face. “So maybe you can be my Prince Charming, huh?”
The dog sat down and gave her a little wuff.
“I’m scared to death that I’m going to screw up, you know?” she admitted. “But I have this feeling maybe Micah is right. Maybe I need a dog before I can really say that I’ve settled down somewhere.”
She gave the dog a hug, her throat closing up. Damn it, she didn’t want Noah to leave. So maybe she needed to find some way to make him stay. Maybe the key was in that sermon the Rev had given on Sunday.
She needed to ask for compassion and forgiveness. But it was different for Noah.
He needed to be asked.
Now how was she supposed to make that happen?
* * *
Independence Day dawned with a thunderstorm. The rain beat on the roof above Lia’s head, but it was the sound of distant thunder that awoke her, and unleashed a fit of puppy trembles in Prince.
He whined and jumped up into the bed, where he’d been told not to go numerous times the previous night. He threw his body into Lia’s arms and refused to budge.
She checked the time on her cell phone. It was only 7:30 a.m. The softball game was scheduled for ten o’clock, but the weather wasn’t cooperating.
Well, that was a disappointment. She’d been looking forward to the game. After last night’s practice with Kerri, Abby, Jenna, and Kate, she was feeling super confident. Kate had come back, and she’d made a lot of progress learning the two-handed fly-ball catch.
The thunder rolled again, and the dog barked.
“Hush,” she said. “I sneaked you up here. Don’t go and announce your presence.”