Return to Magnolia Harbor

by Hope Ramsay

  Her heart skidded sideways. The truth was that she didn’t care. Did that mean he was willing to overlook her imperfections?

  He thrust out the bouquet like an awkward teenager. “For you,” he said.

  “From Ashley’s garden?”

  He nodded. “But I cut them myself. I have thorn scratches to prove it.”

  She took the flowers, their scent lingering between them. “Come on in. I’ll get a vase for these and dishes for the food.”

  He followed her down the hall into the dining room, where he put down the paper sack. “Can I help?”

  She shook her head and escaped into the kitchen for a moment, taking care of the flowers and then stacking a couple of plates, silverware, napkins, and two Heinekens on a tray.

  They sat down at one end of the long dinner table, two lonely people huddling in a corner of a table big enough for a family of ten or more. She dug into the paper bag and pulled out the polystyrene containers of the chops, okra and tomatoes, and hush puppies. She arranged the food on two plates. He popped the top on his beer but didn’t say a word until Jessica placed his plate in front of him.

  “So, what’s the problem with the house?” he asked.

  Thank goodness. She didn’t want to talk about last Wednesday. She wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. Not because people were gossiping. Not because of the look in Granny’s eye this afternoon that had so enraged her.

  But because she didn’t trust her own heart. Because she wanted it to happen again. And she feared that if it did, she’d lose her way and her focus. She’d belong to him, and she didn’t want to belong to anyone.

  So she pushed all that difficult emotional stuff away to tell him about the flyers she’d seen on Harbor Drive.

  “The handbills suggest that Caleb has joined forces with the Conservation Society. They claim that he’s about to introduce legislation that would stop all development on Lookout Island.”

  She looked down at her food. “I’m so sorry. I can’t shake the feeling that this is somehow my fault. I mean, if—”

  “How on earth is this your fault?”

  She looked up, and he pinned her with his endless blue stare. “I don’t know. I just feel…” She shrugged.

  “Okay, let’s make something clear. This is not your fault. Any more than the rumors Caleb started were your fault.”

  “We don’t know for certain that Caleb started those rumors about me.”

  “No, that’s true. It could have been anyone who didn’t like the idea of a white girl having a black friend.” Topher paused for a moment before cocking his head and speaking again. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  The bottom of her stomach dropped. She wanted his secrets, but at the same time she was scared to death of them.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “It’s not one of those secrets. It’s a historical secret.”

  “A historical secret?”

  He nodded and then launched into a tale about how he had been roped into helping Ashley’s little boy with his Heritage Day project, and they’d uncovered Rose Howland’s diary, which seemed to suggest that Rose had been in love with Henri St. Pierre.

  “You’re kidding,” she said, shocked in spite of herself.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know if we’ll ever prove it. But there’s enough circumstantial evidence to suggest that the Howlands and the St. Pierres are both descendants of our town mother. Although, in fairness, the Howlands should be using the surname of Teal.”

  “So Rose had a thing for pirates,” she said, and then blushed, because it struck her right then that Topher could do a darn good impression of a pirate with his eye patch and slightly shaggy hair.

  “I guess so,” he said. “Should we let the secret out and see what the old biddies do with it?”

  She stared at him. The idea was so incredibly seductive and so terribly wrong. “No. Let’s not.”

  “Yeah. Probably wise to keep it a secret until we can verify it. And then it won’t be gossip; it will be the truth,” he said.

  The truth. It was what she’d always wanted. But the truth was way more complicated than she’d ever fully realized. People could get hurt when you told the truth.

  She focused on her food, cutting and chewing. She wanted to tell him how she felt, but it scared her silly. She didn’t need or want a man in her life. She didn’t want to give up her freedom.

  When she ran out of food to eat, she said, “You know, Caleb probably has the power to take the island away from you.”

  “First he’d have to get enough votes in the assembly, and then he’d have to come up with the money to purchase the property from me. Those are pretty high hurdles.”

  Topher said this with such conviction that it blew her mind. He wasn’t the slightest bit worried about Caleb. It seemed to underscore the truth about him.

  “So what do you propose we do? Stand by and wait for him to raise the money?”

  “There isn’t much we can do about it.”

  “We could gate-crash their meeting and present our designs,” she said. “Show them that we aren’t planning on raping the environment.”

  He cleared his throat. “The flyers certainly used colorful language about that, didn’t they?” he said. “But I think it would be crazy to go to their meeting.”

  “Really, why?”

  “You can’t win those people over by arguing with them.”

  “But we have to.”

  “No. We don’t.”

  “But when they see how we plan to build the house, I’m sure they’ll—”

  “No amount of green design will appease them.”

  “So what? You just want to give up?”

  “Did I say I was giving up? No. I’ll just steamroller them.”

  She stared him down. This. This was what scared her about Topher. He had the power to do as he pleased and never pay any consequences.

  “I’m not sure that’s the right approach. I mean, the flyers paint you as some kind of eccentric billionaire who never gave one thought to protecting the environment. Are you willing to stand by and let them assassinate your character like that?”

  The corner of his lip curled just a tiny bit. “I don’t care about my reputation. That’s one of the big differences between you and me.”

  And that was the problem.

  She cared. No matter what. She would always care. Her reputation was everything. Without it, she’d have no business. Heck, her business up to this point had been built entirely on Yoshi Akiyama’s word of mouth. If she squandered her reputation, those good vibes would disappear.

  “Well,” she said in a tight voice, “I won’t stand by and let people accuse me of designing some kind of monstrosity. That’s the word the flyer used. I have to defend myself.”

  * * *

  Topher laid his knife and fork across the plate and looked into Jessica’s eyes. They were the color of graphite today, filled with a determination he admired.

  He wanted to tell her to save her breath. Caleb was nothing but a paper tiger who was about to discover that all his plans and schemes had been built on quicksand. It would be enjoyable watching the a-hole going down in flames.

  But looking into the outrage on Jessica’s face, he had a momentary doubt. Was it enough to simply bring the bastard down? Maybe she needed this confrontation.

  But it was so risky. He hated the idea of her going into that meeting and facing down those people. She could get hurt. And he wanted to protect her.

  But not by divulging his plans. It was clear now that she’d be annoyed at him for taking away her chance to square off against Caleb. No. He wouldn’t tell her the truth. He’d just make sure the fight ended the right way. And he’d stand up beside her, just in case things got ugly.

  It would be like that time with the pliers. He wouldn’t fight her battle. He’d just back her up and give her the right tools to ensure victory.

  “Okay,” he said. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll show up
at the meeting with you.”

  “You will?”

  He nodded.

  “Thanks. I think it’s important.” She looked away.

  Uh-oh, here came the bad news. He steeled himself. He’d already decided not to attempt any more seductions. It would only prolong his misery.

  “There’s something else I need to tell you,” she said.

  Something withered inside his chest. He could hope. He could make the bad guys disappear. He could save the island. But he could never make her love him.

  So he didn’t wait for her to deliver the bad news. He simply cut to the chase. “I can guess,” he said. “You’re going to take the job in Miami.”

  “Well, I haven’t said yes yet, but I’m leaning in that direction.”

  He pushed up from his place at the table. “Good for you,” he said. “Now I need to go.”

  “Please, don’t feel you have to leave. I can—”

  “But I do have to go. I have things to do.”

  “Oh. So you’re okay with me leaving town?”

  “Of course I am. I think this job in Miami is perfect for you. I think you should follow your dreams. But you promised me a house.”

  “And I will deliver one, assuming Caleb Tate and the Conservation Society don’t get in the way.”

  “I’m sure we can get around them.” Thank God. He’d at least have that much. He could spend time with her until his house was completed. For a moment he almost wished the zoning board would give him a lot of trouble, just to stretch out the process.

  “Now I need to go.” He headed down the hall to the front door, silently cursing the limp that made him so slow. He needed to get away from her before he did something stupid and destructive.

  When he reached the door, she said, “Your house is my first priority for the next week, regardless of what I decide about this job offer. I hope to have the plans near completion so I can file for a building permit in a week or so.”

  “Good.”

  “And I should have something pretty final to bring with me to the meeting on Saturday.” She paused a moment. “I guess I’ll see you then?” Was there a note of yearning in her tone?

  No. He wasn’t going to fool himself. It was bad enough standing by while she ran away to Miami.

  “I’ll be there,” he said, and escaped down the stairs as fast as his bad leg would take him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Come on, kiddo, it’s time to go, or we’ll be late for your baseball game,” Ashley said, tapping on Jackie’s bedroom door. It was Saturday afternoon, a week after Professor Hawkins’s visit, and the boy had been up in his bedroom brooding most of the morning.

  She knocked again, determined to preserve his privacy but losing her patience.

  Crickets.

  So much for privacy. She opened the door, but the room was empty.

  She checked her watch. She had exactly fifteen minutes to get Jackie to his fall league baseball game. Jackie wasn’t a standout athlete, but he made up for that by being a veritable font of baseball information and statistics.

  He had a growing baseball card collection and would sometimes spend an hour or more talking baseball with the Rev. Those conversations were a little frightening because Ashley didn’t understand a word of them, especially when they started talking about ERA and RBI.

  “Jackie?” she called, hurrying down the hall to the bathroom. “Are you in there? We have to go.”

  No answer. She turned around and headed into her own room, where he sometimes watched television. Also empty.

  She returned to her son’s room, a frisson of worry niggling at her. Was he still angry about the edits she’d made to his history project?

  Ashley had allowed Jackie to do his project on Rose Howland’s letters and diary. In fact, earlier in the week, she’d helped him make a poster-board presentation with photos from the dig and quotes from Professor Hawkins about what they’d found. She was pretty sure Jackie would ace the assignment, maybe even win the prize that was given out at the Heritage Day celebration next week.

  But she’d put her foot down when Jackie had wanted to tell everyone about Abimael St. Pierre and how Rose Howland was probably his mother.

  “Why can’t I say that?” he’d asked in that tone of outrage he sometimes used. “It’s the truth.”

  “You don’t know it’s the truth,” she’d said.

  “But the cap’n says it’s true.”

  At that moment she’d truly wanted to kill the captain, except the man was either already dead or a figment of Jackie’s imagination.

  “It’s not history. It’s speculation,” she’d said. “You can’t put speculation in your history project. Do you know what that means?”

  “It means it might not be true. But it’s not speckilation if the captain says it’s true.”

  There’d been no arguing with Jackie’s single-minded logic, so she’d pulled the I’m the Mommy defense and simply ordered him to amend his project.

  She’d even stood over him while he’d copied the edited version onto fresh paper, omitting the parts about how Rose taught Henri to read and how they had loved each other.

  When he’d finished the written portion, they’d glued it to the poster board, and that had been the end of it. Except that Jackie had been surly about the whole thing ever since.

  And now he was MIA on a baseball day.

  She stood in the middle of his empty room, worry creeping through her. She shook it off. He was probably out back, tossing a football with Topher. The two of them had become thick as thieves.

  She headed down the stairs, through the back door, and across the garden, but Jackie and Topher were not on the lawn. There was no sign of either of them, so she headed up the porch steps and banged like a madwoman on the cottage’s front door.

  Topher opened it. “What have I done now?” he asked.

  There was a note of resignation in his voice that she found momentarily alarming. She also noted the dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well.

  The poor man. He’d been doing better recently, but it certainly looked as if he’d taken a step backward. On the other hand, the sitting room behind him looked tidy, and there were papers on the table that seemed to indicate he was working on something business-related. He was dressed in khakis and a golf shirt, as if he were planning to attend a business-casual meeting or something. She wondered if maybe he had decided to go back to work.

  “You haven’t done anything,” she said, slightly breathless. “Have you seen Jackie?”

  “This afternoon?” He straightened a bit.

  She nodded. “He’s hiding, and we have a fall league baseball game.”

  He frowned. “I haven’t seen him all morning. He’s probably up the tree,” he said, stepping through the door. “When I wanted to hide, that’s where I’d go. And believe me, I ran away from home multiple times.”

  “You ran away? Why did I not know that?”

  He stepped off the porch and headed down the path across the lawn. He was walking much better now, without his cane and with a much less perceptible limp. Ashley followed him.

  “Well, for one thing, you didn’t live here as a kid,” Topher said as they headed down the footpath. “And for another, I was the only one who thought I was running away. Sandra, Karen, and Aunt Mary probably thought I came over here to mooch cake. But trust me, I showed up on Aunt Mary’s doorstep every time Dad locked himself in the bedroom. He had a bad time after my mother died. I missed Mom too, but until recently I didn’t fully understand how lost my father was.”

  They reached the tree, and Topher hollered, “Come on, Jackie, you don’t want to miss your baseball game, do you?”

  Silence. It hung heavy on the hot September day. Jackie must have been staying very still because not a leaf rustled.

  Topher surprised Ashley then. He hoisted himself up on the lowest branch, showing a great deal more strength than she thought he possessed.

  “Topher, no, yo
u can’t go climbing—”

  “Watch me,” he said as he straightened up on the branch and started to ascend the tree, which rustled as he climbed. A moment later, long after he’d disappeared into the tree’s crown of evergreen leaves, he called down to her.

  “He’s not here, Ashley.”

  “Oh my God. Where could he be?”

  “Hang on, I’m coming down. We’ll find him.”

  But she didn’t wait. “I’m going to run across the street to see if he’s with the Rev,” she shouted, then turned and fled through the garden to the side gate that opened on the street right across from the rectory.

  She hurried to the minister’s door, trying to swallow back mounting panic as she pressed the bell. Jackie loved his baseball games. He wouldn’t miss one.

  Micah came to the door dressed in his cleric’s garb. And it struck her the moment she set eyes on him that she hadn’t seen him since last Sunday at church. And before that it had been a week ago, when the professor had come to examine Jackie’s treasure.

  Was he worried about what might happen when the town discovered that the Howlands and the St. Pierres were branches of the same family tree? Or was he worried that she might never let anyone discover that truth?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked before she could even open her mouth.

  “Is Jackie here?” she asked.

  He shook his head, a look of deep concern coming over his face.

  “Oh God.” She sagged against the doorframe. “I think I’ve lost him. And I think it’s because I refused to let him tell the truth. I haven’t seen him since breakfast, and I have no idea where he went. Oh, crap. I can’t lose him. He’s my everything.”

  Micah stepped forward and wrapped her up in one of his big hugs. “You haven’t lost him. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

  “Oh, Micah, I can’t lose him.” She pressed her head against his big chest as tears sprang to her eyes. “Maybe I should have believed him about the captain.”

  “Hush,” the minister said, briefly cupping the back of her head. “Maybe you should have, but you aren’t going to lose him. You’re a good mother. Now, dry your eyes. We need to go look for him. And I promise you, we’ll find him safe and sound.”