When he stopped in front of her, she held out a hand twisted by arthritis. Her sharp knuckles dug into his fingers as she squeezed his hand. “I’m Mrs. D’Angelo. Do you like pie?”
Nate blinked at her. What kind of question was that? Who didn’t like pie?
“Thanks, but I should get my stuff unpacked.” He gestured lamely toward the single suitcase parked outside his apartment door. “Maybe next time.”
He fought not to squirm under the stare she leveled at him. “I’ll hold you to that. It’s been too long since we’ve had a young man around here.” She started to shuffle toward her apartment. “I look forward to getting to know you.”
Nate grunted in answer. She’d be looking for a long time. He wasn’t here to get to know people. He was here to do his work, prove his worth to his father, and―well, that was about it, really. There was nothing else for him anymore.
Mrs. D’Angelo was still in the hall when Nate unlocked his own door and stepped inside, pulling his suitcase behind him.
Once he’d closed the door, it took a moment for his ears to adjust to the silence. It was almost unnerving.
He hadn’t known a moment of quiet in the past seven years.
He took in the space. The door led right into a small living room with a worn plaid couch and small TV. To the left, the kitchen was complete with citron appliances and a chipped table. He left his bag at the door as he moved slowly through the apartment, observing the 1980s style bathroom, the small but functional laundry room, and a decent size master bedroom.
The apartment was nice enough, and he supposed he should be grateful Dad had arranged a job for him. But Nate didn’t want any of this.
How many times had he told Dad he could make his own life, that he’d find success on his own terms? He swallowed the acid that burned his throat at the knowledge that Dad had been right all along. When it came down to it, Nate was nothing but a giant screw up.
But he was a screw up with a second chance. Even if he didn’t deserve it, he had to make the most of it, if only to prove Dad wrong.
Nate strode to the door and retrieved his suitcase as if he had a purpose. He dragged it to the bedroom and lifted it onto the bed.
Should be interesting to see what Dad had thought he’d need to survive in his new life.
He opened the suitcase to find a toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant on top of a stack of three dress shirts, two suits, and four ties.
He picked up one of the suit coats, remembering the day Dad had taken him to pick it out for his internship in Dad’s office. He’d hated how the coat made him feel―all stuffy and claustrophobic. But Dad said it would grow on him.
It never did.
Nor did the internship, which he’d quit after only a month to focus more intensely on his music.
And now here he was again: wearing a suit and working for Dad.
Nate tried to pull the coat on over his t-shirt. But he’d been a scrawny kid the last time he’d worn it. His shoulders and chest had broadened now, thanks to daily weightlifting. The coat strained at the shoulders, and he could barely lift his arms.
He moved to put the empty suitcase away, but the sound of something sliding inside stopped him. He was sure the main part had been empty.
He tipped the suitcase to the side.
The zip of something sliding against the fabric liner was quiet but unmistakable. He unzipped the small side compartment and slid his hand in, feeling around until his fingers brushed against something hard and smooth.
He pulled it out, and his breath caught.
It was one of the shells he and Kayla had collected on their trip to Florida as kids.
Had the shell been stuck in the suitcase all this time? Or had Kayla put it there as a message to him?
He opened the drawer of the small nightstand next to the bed, sliding the shell into it.
Just because he couldn’t forget didn’t mean he wanted to remember.
Chapter 5
Violet traced Cade’s name on the smooth gray stone, then ran her finger over his favorite Bible verse, inscribed below: “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
She sighed, settling onto the grass in front of the stone. Cade was in heaven, where he would never grow weary or faint again. But she was stuck here. About as weary and faint as a person could get.
All week she’d resisted coming to the cemetery. But one more Sunday of worshiping without Cade had done her in. Christ had always been the center of their relationship, from the time they’d attended Sunday school together as kids.
But now every time she went to church, it felt like one person was missing from the relationship. Not that she needed Cade to have faith. That came from the Holy Spirit alone. She knew that. But Cade had encouraged her and helped her grow in her faith. She missed the deep spiritual conversations they’d had, the feeling that not only their hearts but their souls were connected.
She ran her hand over the daisies she’d planted at the beginning of summer. They’d been scraggly then, but now that it was August, they’d filled in to create a cheerful blanket in front of the gravestone. She leaned forward to smell them, the guilt she’d been trying to push down all week working its way to the front of her thoughts. Guilt over packing Cade’s stuff away. Guilt over her inability to keep the store going. Guilt over the way her heart rate had sped up on the few occasions she’d run into her new neighbor over the last couple days. It was only because it still surprised her to see a man living in the building again after three years of only her and Mrs. D’Angelo. She knew that perfectly well. It’s not like she and Nate had said more than a muttered “hello.” But it still felt like a betrayal of Cade.
She pushed to her feet and peered down to the lake. The day was hot and still, and only the tiniest ripples marred the surface. It reminded her of the day she and Cade had gone snorkeling just off the beach. The water had been flat and smooth, and Cade had been sure they’d find fish and seashells and maybe even some treasure. But the water was so murky that they’d barely been able to see their own hands in front of them. Even so, Cade hadn’t been discouraged. He’d said the most disappointing adventure with her was better than any day without her.
Violet wrapped her arms around her middle as a chill wracked her body in spite of the heat. Had she ever told him she felt the same way? Because she knew for a certainty now that the worst day with him had been better than every single day without him.
She kissed her fingertips, then pressed them to the top of the gravestone. She didn’t let herself look back as she crossed the cemetery to her car, parked in the church parking lot.
“Violet!”
She lifted her head and turned toward the yard to her left.
“Hey, Dan.” She tried to perk up her voice so he wouldn’t worry. Leah’s younger brother had moved back to Hope Springs only six months or so ago to join his dad as pastor of the church. But he’d quickly become a friend to all of Leah’s friends. He’d offered a shoulder for Violet on more than one occasion.
“How are you today?” Dan’s creased forehead told her he knew where she’d come from.
“I’m doing okay.” It didn’t pay to tell him she was good. He would see right through it.
“I haven’t talked to you much since Sophie and Spencer’s wedding. You doing okay with that?”
She gazed toward the church next door. She couldn’t describe the mix of emotions that had swirled through her as Sophie walked down the aisle. Joy for her friend, of course. Wistfulness for her own wedding day. Anger at how short her time as a wife had been. And―she hated to admit it―a shard of jealousy that had worked its way into her heart. Sophie had never wanted to get married and have a family. Whereas Violet―she and Cade had been planning to start their own family since they were fifteen. So how was it fair that Sophie was now living the life Violet had dreamed of? While Violet was stuck in a life that
had gone all wrong.
“It was hard, but I’m okay,” she finally answered Dan.
He laid a hand on her arm. “It’s okay if you’re not, you know. We all understand.”
Violet nodded and pressed her lips together. Her friends had all been so careful to let her know it was okay if she couldn’t be one hundred percent happy at the wedding. But the thing was, none of them could understand. Not really. They were all marrying and moving forward with their lives. Her life on the other hand―the brakes had been put on that the day she buried Cade.
“I got a postcard from them the other day.” She didn’t have to feign the joy that had brought her. “Looks like they’re having a great time.”
“I bet. When do they get back?” Dan pulled out his phone to check his calendar.
“Two more weeks. Her parents insisted on getting them this trip, and since the cherry harvest went well this year, Sophie managed to convince Spencer to agree to it.” Violet pressed down the flutter of nerves over Sophie’s return. Her oldest friend had only come back to Hope Springs―and back into her life―a year ago. Now that she was married, what if she cut Violet out altogether again?
You’re being ridiculous. Sophie had been nothing but the perfect best friend in the past year, even as she was busy planning a wedding and helping Spencer open a new farm store on the orchard they owned.
“Let’s plan to grill out when they get home. I’ll make burgers.” Dan’s eyes widened as he checked his phone again. “Oh, I’m supposed to be leading Bible study. Like ten minutes ago.”
Violet couldn’t help the laugh. Dan was quickly becoming notorious around the church for losing track of time. But his love for his flock was so apparent that no one held it against him.
As Dan jogged toward the church, Violet strolled to her car. The guilt and sadness that had pressed so hard at Cade’s graveside had eased a little, and for that she was grateful.
By the time she got home, an energy she hadn’t felt in a long time pulsed through her. The shop wasn’t open today, since it was Sunday, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have plenty of work to do. Her workshop was way too full of half-finished projects. Projects that couldn’t make her money until they were out on the sales floor.
She jumped out of the car and ducked into the workshop, pulling one of Cade’s old t-shirts on over her sleeveless top. Its familiar comfort wrapped around her as she set to work. She wasn’t sure how long this energy would last. But she as going to make the most of it while it did.
Nate slapped another lease agreement on top of the pile he’d already gone through and pushed back from his kitchen table. It hadn’t even been a week, and already he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive another day―let alone a lifetime―of working for his father.
He’d spent all week sorting through the mess at the office, and he’d barely gotten through a quarter of the files. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was the fact that Dad called every day―always at a different time, which Nate knew was to check up on him.
That was why Nate had spent his entire Saturday in the office yesterday, waiting for Dad’s call. It had finally come at six o’clock. Nate’s only satisfaction was the surprise in Dad’s voice when he had answered on the first ring. Dad had surely been expecting the phone to go to voice mail so he could leave a blistering message about Nate not living up to his responsibilities.
But Nate had made it clear to Dad that he wouldn’t be in the office today. So what if he’d implied it was because Sunday was for church? In the eighteen years he’d lived under his parents’ roof, he’d never been allowed to miss one weekend of church, so it was no shock that Dad thought he still attended. As if he wanted anything to do with a God who had failed him.
Instead of worshiping, Nate had spent the day holed up inside his apartment with the files he’d brought home.
It wasn’t like he had anything better to do anyway.
But his eyes kept drifting to the window, where sunlight streamed in, casting a sharp line across the living room floor. Maybe he should get some fresh air.
Nate stood and stretched. Ten minutes and then he’d get back to work. When he’d told Dad about the mess in the office, Dad had been less than sympathetic. He’d expected Nate to get it cleaned up and get him a status on all their properties on the peninsula in two weeks.
It was an impossible task. Nate knew that. So did Dad. That’s why he’d assigned it, Nate was sure.
But if the only way to see Mom and Kayla again was to kill himself working for Dad, then that’s what he’d do.
He stepped out of the apartment and gave his neighbors’ doors a quick glance. He’d talked to Mrs. D’Angelo a few more times during the week. She kept pressing him to come in for a piece of pie, but he kept declining. His other neighbor, though―he’d only run into her a couple times. And they’d never said more than “hi” to each other.
Which was perfectly fine with him. He wasn’t here to make friends. He was here for a new start. And the only way to ensure that was to keep his life to himself.
Nate jogged down the stairs to the first floor. He paused as a high-pitched whining sound caught his ears. It took a second to place it, but he was pretty sure it was a sander. The sound was coming from behind the back door to the antique shop.
A momentary wave of curiosity swept over him. But he nudged it aside. Keeping his life to himself meant minding his own business.
He pushed the outside door open and stepped into the small parking lot. Beyond it, a grassy hill dropped gradually to the rocky beach below. The weight that had been pressing on his shoulders all week eased a little as the scent of the lake drifted up to him. He let himself take a moment to look around. He had to admit this was a pretty town. It might even be a nice place to live, if he’d been given the opportunity to choose it for himself.
Nate wandered toward the water, glad he’d thought to pick up some shorts when he’d gone shopping for new clothes the other day. The heat clung to him, dampening the skin at the base of his neck.
At the bottom of the hill, the grass gave way to small pebbles and crushed shells, leaving the beach a brilliant white. A couple hundred yards to the south, the beach looked darker, sandier. Towels dotted the ground, and a handful of people swam in the water. To the north, the pebbly beach continued a quarter mile or so, until it was taken over by large boulders, some jutting into the water.
Nate turned north.
The crunch of shells under his feet was satisfying after the stifling silence of his apartment, and he let himself walk farther than he intended. When he reached the boulders, he climbed up on one, then stepped across to another and another, until he was perched on top of one that stood several feet into the lake.
He let himself just breathe. When was the last time he’d been free to do that?
A new feeling settled over him. Not peace, exactly―he was pretty sure he’d never feel that again―but something a little softer than the despair that had hung over him for seven years.
He shouldn’t allow himself even this brief reprieve. Not while Kayla had to deal with the consequences of his mistake every day. But if he didn’t take just a moment, he would never survive this assignment to see her again.
It wasn’t until the sun had shifted to shine directly in his eyes that he realized how low it had sunk in the sky.
He stood reluctantly. Sitting out here all evening wasn’t going to win him any points with Dad.
By the time he got back to his building, the sun had dropped to the horizon. Lines of purple and red burst from it, painting the sky and the water in hues Nate wasn’t sure were real. He allowed himself one more look, allowed himself a second to feel the awe the sunset had once inspired in him. The awe that had led him to write an entire song about the one who made it.
But that awe was misplaced.
He knew that now.
Because a God who could paint a sunset like that but couldn’t protect his sister―that wasn’t a God he wanted anything
to do with.
He locked the awe away and opened the door.
He was at the foot of the staircase when a loud crash reverberated through the building, followed by a muted cry.
He stopped with his foot on the first step, his heart thrusting against his chest wall, and stared at the door that led to the antique store’s workshop. It was probably nothing. He should ignore it.
Even if his neighbor needed help, he wasn’t the one to provide it. Hadn’t he proved that when he couldn’t do anything to help Kayla? He couldn’t handle the thought of feeling that helplessness again.
But what if his neighbor was hurt and no one else came?
He jumped off the step and yanked the back door to the antique store open. As he scanned the space, he didn’t see anyone. “Hello? Are you okay in here? I thought I heard―”
“Over here.” The woman’s voice was faint and shaky. “I think I need help.”
Chapter 6
Fire surged from Violet’s wrist to her shoulder as she lay sprawled on the floor, her arm trapped under the armoire that had crashed on top of her. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could fight down the scream.
Footsteps pounded across the floor. “What happened?” The voice sounded familiar.
A second later, a face warbled into view above her. It was her new neighbor. Nate.
She had no idea where he had come from, but this was the first time she could say she was genuinely happy to see him.
He squatted at her side. “I’m going to lift this. Do you think you can move your arm out when I do?”
Violet nodded. Or at least she thought she did.
“Ready?” Nate planted his hands close to the spot where her arm disappeared under the armoire. A second later, the pressure eased. She slid her body away from the armoire, biting her lip to keep from yelling. A small whimper managed to escape.
There was a thud as Nate set the armoire heavily on its back, then crouched at her side. “That looks pretty bad. I think it’s probably broken.”
Not Until You (Hope Springs Book 3) Page 3