Haven Creek

by Rochelle Alers

  It ended when Kim bragged publicly about her extramarital exploits. The revelation nearly destroyed him emotionally, and Nate was forced to examine himself, asking what he hadn’t done to keep her faithful. He discovered he’d done nothing wrong, but her affair further proved that he had issues with trust. He hadn’t trusted his father or his stepmother, or his former wife.

  Nate managed to find his gunmetal-gray truck without too much difficulty. Unlike Morgan, he hadn’t brought a spare key and had to wait for the valet to open the Sequoia. He plucked the sunglasses off the console, placed them on the bridge of his nose, and then returned the key fob to the waiting valet.

  “Now I’m ready,” Nate told Morgan, reaching for her hand again. “Why is it you never moved away again?” he asked after a comfortable silence.

  Chapter Three

  Morgan pondered Nate’s question as she attempted to form an answer that would sound credible not only to him but also herself. How could she tell this man that she’d carried a torch for him for years? That she’d returned hoping that he would, too? That even when she met other men she’d found herself comparing them to Nate?

  She was thirteen when she experienced her first crush. It began at Perry’s. The small Charleston-based eatery was a popular hangout for local high school students. She’d gone to the mainland with her older sister to look for a dress for her eighth grade graduation, and when Rachel suggested stopping at Perry’s, Morgan could hardly contain her excitement.

  Most of Cavanaugh’s grade school kids couldn’t wait to attend high school on the mainland, where hanging out at Perry’s was a rite of passage. There were designated sections in the restaurant for seniors, juniors, sophomores, and freshmen. And if a senior walked in and couldn’t find a seat, then a lowly freshman was obligated to forfeit his. Rachel said girls were the exception; they were never asked to give up their coveted seats for any male upperclassmen.

  Morgan couldn’t believe the noise level: It appeared as if everyone were talking at once, even as music blared nonstop from a colorful jukebox. Her attention was drawn to Nate, who sat in a booth with her cousin Jesse. Although Haven Creek was the least populated of the towns on the island, and everyone there knew one another, children usually only interacted with those in their own age group. With Nate being four years her senior, Morgan rarely spoke to him.

  But that afternoon was different. She and Rachel shared the booth with Jesse and Nate, and he asked her if she was looking forward to high school. The fact that he’d seemingly taken an interest in her had caused her heart to beat so fast that she felt light-headed. And because he was the first boy in the Creek who’d made her feel special, she’d fantasized about being in love with him.

  He was so different from the junior high boys, who’d taken to calling her Olive Oyl. When she researched the name on the Internet, Morgan was devastated to see a tall, skinny animated character with long black hair rolled into a bun. Even after her body had filled out and the same boys who’d called her names asked her out, she’d rejected them because she wasn’t able to forget their cruel adolescent comments.

  She was a sophomore in college when she had her first date, and it was during her junior year abroad that she engaged in what had become her first serious relationship. It had taken leaving the States and falling in love with a man who wasn’t an American for Morgan to acknowledge the full extent of her femininity.

  She eased her hand from Nate’s when they reached a meadow where a stream flowed into a large pond. Flocks of ducks and swans had settled down under a copse of weeping willow trees to escape the afternoon heat. Morgan and Nate stood under an ancient oak draped in Spanish moss, which shielded them from the sun.

  “I didn’t leave because I’ve never wanted to run away.”

  Nate gave her a sidelong glance. “You think folks that leave Cavanaugh Island are running away?”

  Morgan turned to face Nate, wishing she could see his eyes behind the dark lenses. “Not everyone. Just those who made it known they couldn’t wait to leave.”

  His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Didn’t you leave the state for college?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “Why, when you could’ve gone to Clemson? I happen to know they have a wonderful architecture program.”

  She nodded, staring at a black swan flapping its raven wings as it rose majestically and landed on the water, creating widening ripples. Several gray ducklings followed the magnificent bird, swimming in a single column. “That’s true, but I’d always wanted to go to Howard University because it’s my parents’ alma mater. I enrolled there as an engineering student, then halfway through my second year I switched my major to architecture.”

  Slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, Nate breathed out an audible sigh. “You went to D.C., but then you came back.”

  Morgan smiled. “I was glad to be home because I’d spent my junior and half my senior year abroad. I left the Creek again to enroll in a graduate program at the Savannah College of Art and Design.”

  “I’m sure you received quite a few job offers.”

  “I did,” Morgan confirmed. “I had a visiting professor at SCAD who’d sent my portfolio to a San Francisco firm. I flew out there for an interview, and they rolled out the red carpet. The partners were willing to pay for me to relocate and advance me enough money to buy a condo. They were also offering a six-figure starting salary with perks that included a company car and expense account.”

  “Why didn’t you take it?” Nate asked.

  “They wanted me to design celebrity mansions, but my focus is historic preservation.”

  “So you turned them down.” His query was a statement.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever regret your decision?”

  She shook her head. “Not once. I was hired as an architectural assistant with Ellison and Murphy. What they paid me didn’t compare to what I would’ve earned in California, but sometimes it’s not all about money.”

  Nate angled his head. “If it’s not money, then what is it about?”

  Morgan gave him a direct stare. “It’s about staying connected to my family.”

  “Staying connected nowadays is as easy as a keystroke,” he argued softly. “If it isn’t with a cell phone, then it’s e-mail, instant messages, texting, or even Skype.”

  “Maybe I should’ve said I wanted to remain connected to my roots.” She chewed her lower lip. “I wasn’t homesick when I lived in Savannah because it’s the Lowcountry, and it’s only a two-hour drive between Savannah and Charleston.” Morgan saw a tiny rabbit scurry across the grass and disappear into a hole under a flowering bush. “I’m certain you remember the military recruiters at the high school targeting Cavanaugh Island boys because they knew from past experience that they could easily sign them up. The number of eligible bachelors dropped so drastically that girls from the island had to resort to online dating to find a man. And when they did find one willing to marry them, they, too, left.”

  A hint of a smile played at the corners of Nate’s mouth. “Did you go online looking for a man?”

  “No,” she replied much too quickly.

  “Would you ever sign up for online dating?”

  “I’m not that much of a risk taker. It would be my luck to hook up with a psychopath.”

  Nate laughed softly. “And I’m certain there are a lot of them lurking behind too-good-to-be-true profiles.” He sobered. “Are you staying because you’re looking for a Cavanaugh Island husband?”

  She emitted a nervous laugh. “I’m not looking for a husband. And I doubt if I would ever marry a man who grew up here.” Even if she’d forgiven most of the boys who’d teased and taunted her, she didn’t think she would ever forget coming home, holding back tears, and locking herself in her bedroom, where she cried until she had dry heaves.

  Adolescence hadn’t been an easy time for Morgan. She’d towered over most boys from grade school to her last year in high school. It was a fact that
girls matured earlier than their male counterparts, but for Morgan it took a while to develop the curves other girls flaunted when they were still in junior high.

  She didn’t want to talk about herself because it conjured up the memories she’d locked away in the farthest recesses of her mind. She wanted to know more about Nate. He’d come back to Haven Creek around Thanksgiving and had kept to himself. When she and Francine went on their early morning bike rides, they rode past the structure that had housed Shaw Woodworking for nearly a century. When she did see Nate, he was working on the roof of the barn, which was still under construction.

  “If you weren’t running away from Cavanaugh Island, then why didn’t you come back?” Morgan knew she’d caught him off guard with her query when she heard his intake of breath.

  The seconds ticked by, and after a full minute Nate said, “At that time in my life, living in California suited my temperament.”

  “Now that you’re back, do you plan to stay?”

  Pulling his hands from his pockets, Nate folded his arms over his chest. “What’s this all about, Morgan? Why all the questions?”

  Morgan knew that what she intended to propose to Nate would change his life as much as hers had changed when Kara Newell commissioned her to oversee the restoration of Angels Landing Plantation. “I just need to know if you plan to live here for the next three to five years.”

  “What if I say no?”

  “Then we have nothing to talk about,” Morgan said, turning and walking back the way they’d come.

  Moving quickly, Nate caught her upper arm. “I give you an answer you don’t want to hear and you walk away,” he whispered in her ear. He dropped his hand and took a step until they were facing each other. “Did you ask me to meet you to talk about a project or did you need me to…”

  “Need you to do what, Nate?” she asked when he didn’t finish his statement.

  “Run interference between you and your male admirers?”

  Her jaw dropped, no words coming from her gaping mouth. Then she laughed, the sound shattering the stillness of the afternoon. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  “What am I to think?” he countered. “You claim you left two messages—”

  “I did leave messages, but not to ask you to go out with me. I have as much interest in you romantically as I have in coming down with a case of poison ivy.”

  “Damn, Mo. That’s cold.”

  “I’m not saying I would never go out with you, but I try not to mix business with pleasure.”

  Morgan hadn’t lied. She wasn’t that thirteen-year-old girl hoping, praying, fantasizing that Nate would fall in love with her and they would live happily ever after. Every year she’d wait for him to come back, to show him that she’d grown up. But when he didn’t, her feelings changed and she was resigned to the fact that there would never be anything more between them than friendship. When the news of his engagement to a supermodel was splashed across the pages of entertainment magazines, Morgan felt nothing, and it was then she knew she had matured not only physically but mentally as well.

  She tilted her chin in a defiant gesture. “I’ve been commissioned to oversee the preservation of Angels Landing Plantation, and that includes the house and construction of outbuildings. Artisans from the Creek will be given priority over those in the Cove, the Landing, and the mainland. Shaw Woodworking is at the top of my list as a source for skilled carpenters to recreate the slave village. I would’ve spoken to your father, but I’ve heard that he’s semiretired.” Morgan knew that Nate was the best there was for this project and hoped he would accept the job.

  If Nate had had one wish, it would be to retract his words. There was no doubt he’d come down with a lethal case of foot-in-mouth disease. He ran a hand over his head, cursing to himself. Perhaps he should’ve waited to hear her out before he opened his mouth.

  “I’m sorry, Mo. I don’t know why I said that.”

  She waved a hand in dismissal. “Forget about it.”

  “I can’t. I was out of line.”

  “If you’re apologizing, then I accept your apology. Now, can we get back to business?”

  Pushing up his glasses, Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. Restoring a house to its original state was a monumental undertaking that would probably take years to complete. Attention to detail would be vital to ensuring authenticity. He wanted to turn down Morgan’s offer because he barely had time to complete the work Shaw Woodworking had already been commissioned to do. And there was still the barn, which he wanted to finish before the end of the summer. However, if he could get Bryce to assist him, then perhaps he could help Morgan with her project.

  “I don’t know, Morgan. I’ll have to think about it.”

  “I don’t want to pressure you, but I’m going to need your answer before the end of next week; otherwise I’ll have to contact someone else. I’ve projected three to five years to complete the entire restoration.”

  He was taken aback by the sudden chill in her voice. It was apparent that Morgan was no shrinking violet. She had a business to run, and for every businessperson, time translated into money. “Can you give me a hint of what I’d be involved with if I decide to accept your offer?”

  “You’ll have to come by my office and I’ll show you the schematic.”

  “What’s the address?”

  “It’s on Main Street off Moss Alley, two doors down from the Muffin Corner. You can find me there most nights.”

  “What made you open an office in the Cove and not the Creek?”

  Morgan laughed. “You must think I’m a traitor not to live and work in the Creek, but I didn’t want to be in direct competition with my former employers. It would be like rubbing salt in an open wound. They were shocked when I handed in my resignation, and mad as hell when they found out I’d opened an office in the Cove. I only have one client, yet they bad-mouth me every chance they get.”

  “One client and a restoration project of historic proportions. There’s no doubt when this land is fully restored it will draw as much attention as Mansfield Plantation and Middleton Place.”

  Morgan clasped her hands behind her back to keep from throwing her arms around Nate’s neck and kissing him. Nate hadn’t seen her plans for the restoration, yet he’d fully grasped her vision for the historic landmark house and land. She unclasped her hands. He’s got it! screamed the voice in her head.

  “You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” he asked.

  She compressed her lips. “How do you know?”

  “Your eyes, Mo. They give you away.”

  “You have no idea how much this project means to me,” Morgan admitted. “It’s not about becoming my own boss as much as it is about saving a culture that makes me proud to say I’m Gullah.”

  Nate smiled, exhibiting a mouth filled with straight white teeth. “I understand where you’re coming from. When I lived in California, people always made fun of my accent. I tried to explain that I was Gullah, but they looked at me as if I’d come from outer space.”

  “We may have inflections, but definitely not accents. My roommate at Howard was from Chicago, and when she came home with me during spring break she couldn’t stop raving about the food and the lushness of the island. I believed she would’ve moved here after graduation if she wasn’t engaged to a boy who lived in Houston.” Morgan glanced at her watch. “I think we better get back. Thank you for hearing me out.” Reaching for her hand, Nate’s thumb caressed her knuckles, the calluses on the pad making her heart beat a little too quickly.

  “I can’t give you an answer until I see your plans, and then I’ll have to talk it over with my father and brother.”

  “The entire restoration is projected to take at least three years. So please keep that in mind when you talk to them.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  They walked back to the parking area, where Morgan put on her heels. When they reentered the tent she felt as if hundreds of eyes were watching her and Nate. It was th
en she realized they were still holding hands. “Let go of my hand,” she said between clenched teeth.

  Nate took off his sunglasses. “Let them look, Mo. Even if we were standing ten feet away from each other they would make up something to beat their gums about.”

  She smiled up at him, dimples flashing. “You’re right about that.”

  Morgan knew that gossip was as essential to the island as genealogy. The inhabitants of Cavanaugh Island kept detailed family records in their Bibles because they didn’t want cousins marrying cousins. Nate dropped her hand and rested his at the small of her back. “Let’s find a table where we can sit together. Wait. I think I see one.”

  “Yoo-hoo! Na-than-iel! I’m coming, baby!” His name came out in three distinct syllables as Trina, arms outstretched, bore down on them. Those who heard her call Nate’s name moved aside quickly, stepping out of the way like the Red Sea as it parted. Trina’s heaving, ample bosom challenged the dangerously low-cut décolletage in a dress that was definitely a size too small for her voluptuous body.

  Her eyes widening in surprise, Morgan stared numbly at him. “You and Trina!”

  “There is no me and Trina,” Nate spat out.

  “Then why is she coming for you, baby?”

  “I promised to dance with her,” Nate said sotto voce.

  “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Bad move, Nate. Trina has tentacles for arms, and once stuck she’s like fast-drying glue. Do you want me to run interference for you?” Morgan wanted to laugh even though she knew that Trina coming on to Nate was no laughing matter.

  “I did promise her, and there’s probably no harm in just one dance.”

  Morgan knew that one dance would turn into much more, and she had to decide whether to warn him or mind her own business. Her conscience nagged at her, and she knew she would be remiss if she didn’t let Nate know what he was about to encounter.