“I bought a few jars when I went to the store last week, so I’m good.” He’d thought it would last him a while, but if he had more morning visits from Elise and Cody, that might not be the case, because Cody was again motioning for more of the sweet substance, and still humming.
“It’s delicious.” She took another bite. “Is it local?”
“Yeah, I bought it in Stockville. The woman at the grocery had it for sale near the counter and said she gets it from a beekeeper that lives nearby.” He ate more of his biscuit and tried to recall the last time he’d had casual conversation while sharing a meal. He couldn’t. And the realization not only made him grateful for this time, but sorrowful that he’d been without anything like it for so long.
He truly missed his family.
“That’ll keep you from getting sick, you know.” She grinned as Cody ran a finger through some of the honey that had escaped his biscuits and pooled on his plate. He popped it in his mouth and hummed even louder.
“Honey will keep me from getting sick?” Jack took another bite.
She nodded as she sipped her coffee. “That’s what my grandmother always said. She put a spoonful in her coffee each morning to help with colds and allergies.” She shrugged, took another bite of biscuit. “I have no idea whether it actually works, or if it’s an old wives’ tale, but that’s the story. Something about taking in the local pollen to build up your immunity.”
Jack had never heard anything like that, but he knew that people from the South had their own way of looking at things, their old-fashioned remedies that often proved to be true. He’d stayed in a small town near Birmingham a few years ago when filming Jacob’s Dream and had fallen in love with the easy lifestyle, the moderate climate and the charm and grace of Southerners in general. It’d been part of the reason he’d looked for something in this location when he’d decided to retreat from the world, the beauty of the place, rather than the people. He hadn’t planned on getting all that close to the community.
But here he was, undeniably getting close to these two.
Cody held up his palms, and Jack saw that, while all of his biscuits and the entire glass of milk were gone, his hands were shiny from honey, particularly his fingers, since he’d slid them all over the plate in an effort to eat every drop.
“Hang on,” Jack said. “I’ll get something to clean that up.”
He went inside, got a dishcloth and wet it with warm water, then returned to the porch. “Wipe them with this.” He handed the cloth over and watched as Cody meticulously worked it over his palms and then in around each finger. After he finished, he handed it to Elise, who did the same and then passed it to Jack, who followed suit.
Once her hands were clean, Elise gathered the plates while Jack scooped up the cups and honey, and then they started inside while Cody moved toward the bags he’d dropped earlier.
She paused at the door. “We’ll be right back, Cody. Don’t leave me again, okay?”
Naturally, he didn’t answer, and she released a light sigh as she and Jack carried the things inside.
“He liked the biscuits.” Elise rinsed the plates and stacked them in the sink. “I haven’t heard him hum like that before.” She smiled. “That’s the first sound he’s made at all since I started working with him.”
“But you said he can communicate.” Jack remembered her mentioning it on the first day.
Her shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug. “He could before the accident.”
“And now he doesn’t.” Jack’s empathy toward the boy intensified. Yes, Jack had lost his family too, but he’d only withdrawn from society. Cody had withdrawn from everything.
“Now he doesn’t,” she repeated softly.
“Without speaking, I’m guessing the chances for an autistic boy to be adopted are slim to nil,” Jack deduced, and he sensed the need to pray for the boy. If only he still believed God would answer his prayers.
Elise didn’t answer, but her silence said everything. The boy needed to communicate in order to stand a chance at a family wanting to adopt him.
Pondering Cody’s situation and what he could do to help, Jack put the honey in the cabinet, then moved to the sink and placed the cups beside the stacked plates while carefully maintaining his distance from the woman in his kitchen. The cabin wasn’t small, but the room seemed to shrink with Elise’s presence. He didn’t want to stand too close, didn’t want to be too close. But he also needed her to understand that he didn’t want to stop seeing Cody. Today was the first day Jack had felt alive in a very long time.
“I’m glad he came back today. I think it’s good for him, to come here.”
“I believe it is too.” She’d started walking toward the door but stopped and peered out his front window to see Cody. “And I think I figured out why he was so bothered by the wood yesterday, or rather, I figured it out after discussing his behavior with my colleagues.”
“Why?” Jack still thought the beard had bothered him, but whatever unsettled the boy had started when he saw the marred mahogany.
“That wood was perfect, something useful and wanted, and then, because of what happened to it, it wasn’t useful anymore.” She shook her head as she continued staring out the window at the boy. “Autism is something that some people simply can’t handle.”
“Or think they can’t handle.” Jack’s throat tightened, fists clenched on their own accord.
“The goal at Willow’s Haven is to find the perfect family for Cody, one that will love him for who he is and not what they believe he should be.” She glanced at Jack, then added, “But Cody seems to be making progress toward that direction now.”
“With me?” He wanted to hear her say it, even though he was fairly certain he knew the answer.
“Yes, with you.” She continued toward the door. “Did you see what he brought in the bags?”
“No, I didn’t.” Jack had noticed the heavy things, but he hadn’t thought the contents had anything to do with him.
She opened the door and they found Cody withdrawing the last of a stack of books from the canvas tote. Another stack, presumably from the green bag, sat nearby. “Well, it looks like he’s ready to show you.”
Jack eyed the titles and then watched as Cody, sitting on the ground with the books surrounding him and flipped open to various pages, looked up with an expression of what could only be described as...hope.
He stepped closer and saw that each opened page had diagrams and information on building furniture. More specifically, on ways to salvage wood. Jack’s heart thudded solidly in his chest, and he tilted his head toward the discarded piece of mahogany propped against the side of the porch. “Looks like somebody’s ready to get to work,” he said, and then he saw the second look of hope, this time...from Elise.
* * *
In the two weeks since she’d started working with Cody, Elise had never seen him as energized as he was now, poring over diagrams of furniture with Jack. No, he wasn’t speaking, but the nonverbal communication had escalated. He tapped the pictures on the pages and nodded excitedly when Jack talked about what they could do to repair that ruined piece of wood. Right now, in fact, as Jack lifted the mahogany slab and described how they could use something called a planer to fix the marred area, Cody clapped. Not the tapping of fingers at his chest that he often did when bored or confused or anxious, but an honest-to-goodness happy clap.
The guy had no idea how much progress Cody had made in a single day, but Elise did, and it warmed her heart, toward the boy she already cared so much about and toward the reclusive man lowering his own barriers against the world to help the child.
“Well, okay, then. If that’s what we need, I’ll get one.” Jack gave Cody a smile that tugged at Elise’s chest, and then he looked at her and—Maybe she imagined it, but the smile seemed to hitch a little higher.
&n
bsp; Maintaining a hold on her undeniable attraction would’ve been tough when he was rough-mountain-man Jack; with clean-shaven-and-GQ-model-worthy Jack, it was going to be near impossible.
However, she couldn’t deny that there was something off with a guy who voluntarily chose to live in total solitude, without a neighbor and with no semblance of community whatsoever.
This was the kind of guy she’d promised never to get involved with again. This was the kind of guy who could destroy what was left of her heart.
And yet Cody’s progress had been nonexistent before he met Jack. No way could she put a halt to that.
“You want anything from inside?” He’d stopped at the door and waited for her answer. “Something to drink? I have lemonade and tea.”
“Lemonade would be great.” And it would help the fact that her mouth went desert dry whenever he grinned at Cody, flexed his abundance of muscles lifting a piece of lumber...or locked eyes with her.
Elise pushed the realization out of her thoughts, and as she moved from the porch steps to sit beside Cody, his demeanor didn’t change. He remained eager and alert, and even showed her a photo of a large piece of machinery on one of the pages of a book.
“Is that what y’all need to fix the wood?”
He nodded and then smiled. At Elise. She had prayed repeatedly over the past two weeks to see a sign of happiness from Cody. To see that smile.
Thank You, God.
Jack exited the cabin, his cell phone in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other. Talking into the phone, he held the glass toward Elise. She took it and tried to ignore the electric jolt that shimmied up her arm when his fingers brushed against hers. Thankfully, Jack seemed too into his conversation to notice. She had to get a grip on this attraction before he caught on.
“My reception isn’t that great in some spots here.” He took a few steps away toward the open clearing and then said, “Yes, that’s what we want, and I do need delivery.” He frowned. “Is that the quickest you can get it here? I was hoping for this afternoon...I see. Yeah, if you’ve got to have it shipped in, I guess that’ll do.” He disconnected, then turned toward Cody and Elise sitting on the ground near the splayed books. “We can’t get the planer before tomorrow,” he said to Cody, “but I still need to sand the drawer fronts. If you’d like to help, we can do that today.”
Cody scrambled to his feet, dusted the dirt off his jeans and slapped his hands together.
“I think he’s ready to work.” Elise didn’t have a chance to stand before Jack held his hand toward her.
“Here, let me help.”
She slid her hand in his, the warmth of his palm enveloping her as he easily assisted her up. “Thanks.”
He stood near, very near, and he didn’t make an effort to move away. Or release her hand. Elise’s breathing hitched, and she prayed he didn’t notice. Standing this close, she observed tiny flecks of gold within his green eyes. It’d be easy to lose yourself in those eyes, especially when he examined Elise with the same intensity as she studied him.
Her cheeks tingled, and she had no doubt they’d tinged red. But before she could speak and break the moment, he did.
“You’re so...different.”
Not what she expected. Different from what? Or who? She started to ask, but a loud knock behind them caused them to turn and see Cody, slapping his palm against one of the drawer fronts Jack had placed on a worktable nearby.
Jack released her hand, shook his head as though frustrated with something, or maybe with himself, then left her and strode toward Cody. “Let me show you what we need to do, JJ.”
Cody tilted his head, brow furrowed.
Elise, however, asked the question that Cody couldn’t. “JJ?”
All color drained from Jack’s face. “Cody,” he quickly corrected. “Let me show you what we need to do, Cody.” He handed the boy a sanding block, and he took it, all confusion disappearing from his features. The boy was too eager to help Jack with the furniture to concern himself with the fact that he’d been called the wrong name.
But Elise was concerned. She needed Jack to get through to Cody, but Jack, like every other man in her life, had something going on in his world, something that needed mending.
There are some things you simply can’t fix, Elise. Some people are too broken, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Her oldest brother’s words, spoken at Anthony’s funeral, haunted her now. She couldn’t go through that again.
Jack gently moved the sanding block in a circular motion and coached Cody as he did the same on the adjacent drawer. He glanced up to catch Elise staring at him, lost in the painful memory and not knowing how to keep the past from repeating itself.
She should leave. Take Cody and go, right here, right now. He said she was different, but Elise had no idea how. He called Cody another name, someone named JJ. Warning bells—no, warning blasts—resounded through her head, until she felt her pulse in her ears. She moistened her lips, prepared to tell Cody that they needed to go.
“You want to help?” Jack held another sanding block toward Elise. “We have plenty of drawer fronts to do, and then we can move on to the frame.”
Cody paused from sanding, looked up and smiled. Again. Another smile that she’d prayed for. His only progress had occurred because of Jack.
She had no choice. “Sure.”
Chapter Four
Typically, Jack put his cell phone on silent when he slept, but evidently he’d forgotten when he’d climbed in bed, because it blared to life well before sunup. No one called him in the middle of the night. Everyone at the studio knew better than to disturb his family when they were resting.
His mind jolted from the old train of thought. He had no family to disturb, not anymore. Still, no one would call at this time of night unless it were an emergency.
His first thought went to his parents. He hadn’t spoken to them in at least a month, and they’d sounded fine when they called from their summer house in the Keys. But maybe something had happened to his mom or dad. Or his sister? It’d been even longer since he’d spoken to Sarah. They hadn’t had much to talk about since the plane crash, nothing in common anymore. She still had her husband, two sons and three daughters consuming her world. And Jack couldn’t handle hearing about her happy, busy family. Plus, Sarah seemed uncomfortable talking about her picture-perfect life when she knew the best part of his ended when that plane went down.
But something could’ve happened with Sarah. Maybe the kids weren’t okay. And now she needed him the way he’d needed her two years ago.
He squinted at the display on the phone. No Caller ID flashed back. Strange. A family member’s contact info should show up. Brow furrowed, he punched the send button and answered, “Jack Simon.”
“So now I know what to do to get in touch with you.” The raspy, commanding tone left no doubt that the great Roland Mooreland himself had decided the best way to deal with his director gone rogue was to contact Jack personally.
He sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes and prepared for what was certain to be an uncomfortable conversation. “Good morning, Roland. You didn’t want to let Vincent convey your message?”
“Why would I do that? Based on what I’ve heard from your agent, you haven’t been taking his calls and therefore haven’t received any of my messages.” Roland coughed violently into the phone, then followed it with a long slurp of what Jack suspected was his trademark bitter black coffee.
“I haven’t taken anyone’s calls.” Jack flipped the switch on the bedside lamp and squinted through the bright assault of illumination. “I’d assumed that would’ve been expected, since I told Vincent I wouldn’t have anything else to do with the film.”
“Which is why we pushed the release back a year, to give you time to—” another slurp of coffee “—do what
you had to do in order to get your life on track after...” He hesitated, clearly at a loss for how to throw the truth into a sentence.
Jack didn’t have any trouble, however, filling in the blank. “After God took my entire family on the night of my last premiere?”
A tense silence echoed through the line, and Jack could almost see the wheels of Roland’s mind churning. Should he address the fact that his director blamed God for everything he’d lost? Did he dare use the everything-happens-for-a-reason line that most people chose when talking to Jack since that day? Because he wouldn’t have any part of that. What reason could explain him losing his entire family?
As he suspected, Roland chose to forego any type of explanation and forged straight ahead with his most prominent need, getting Jack to promote the film.
“Listen, Jack, Finding Home should’ve released last fall, but we got away with holding it over a year because of—” he coughed “—because of what happened last time. The studio understood that you needed a break. But there are a lot of folk counting on this film. The public latched onto Jacob’s Dream and The Journey. You know how important it is to capitalize on the momentum of two number-one box office hits.”
Jack waited while Roland drank more coffee and held on for input from his director.
Jack said nothing.
Roland grumbled something under his breath, then continued, “You’ve become known as the ‘faith director,’ the guy who can bring God to theaters in a big way. Thanks to you, Damascus Entertainment is finally competing with the secular market, and Christians worldwide are anxious for this new film. They’ve been waiting for it for two long years, and we aren’t going to make them wait any longer, Jack.”
“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind, Roland. Don’t know why you’re calling me at—” he eyed the clock “—four in the morning.”
Second Chance Father Page 5