A Home by the Sea

by Christina Skye

  Alex held open the door to the Hummer. “Let’s go home.”

  As they drove through the darkness, she told Noah’s father all the rest, about James’s lies and lovers. About a probable baby. When she finished she felt drained.

  “Noah knows about all this, but not about the reporter. I’d like to tell him that myself, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.”

  “I was…so naive. I believed all that traveling James did was for his humanitarian causes. And he really did so much good. People simply trusted him.” She ran a trembling hand across her eyes. “Even now his memory…hurts.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Alex said sternly. “It’s never wrong to trust. He’s the one to blame, and only him.”

  “On some level I believe that. And truly it’s getting better. Some days I don’t think about him at all.”

  “This reporter may make life very uncomfortable. These people will dig and dig until they find something sensational enough to sell papers and books.”

  “Then I see a lot of big hats and sunglasses in my future.” Grace laughed tightly. “Luckily I won’t be in D.C. much longer.”

  “We’ll miss you.” Alex reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “In the little time we’ve known you, you’ve touched our lives, Grace. I thought you should know that. But I hope you won’t be gone forever.” He smiled cockily. “Otherwise I might have to mount a research expedition of my own.”

  Emotion tightened her throat as Grace studied that tough, honest face. “No, I won’t disappear forever.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise you.”

  “Good. Because friends and family are all that really matter in life. Age has taught me that.” His lips curved. “And now get ready for a bread inquisition. If I know my Tatiana, she will be waiting at the door right now with apron in hand.”

  Port of Baltimore, 8:35 p.m.

  IT WASN’T LIKE TV. There were no sirens, no throngs of police cars or bustling SWAT teams. When Noah’s unit was dispatched, they moved with a low profile and unmarked vehicles. The sleek chopper that had brought him from D.C. looked like an ordinary commercial issue.

  But it wasn’t. As Noah pulled on his Kevlar suit, he watched the grim, determined faces around him. Each person was totally focused on a specific threat assessment. The sense of danger was tangible. His target lay somewhere in the big shipping crates just inside the doors of the anonymous warehouse ahead.

  Noah’s boss strode up, secure cell phone glued to his ear, gathering updated intelligence about the shipper, source location and probable explosive devices sealed inside.

  “Robot inoperative. There’s some kind of lead lining on the crates. No X-rays available. But we’re definitely picking up explosive vapor. Ten minutes ago the bomb dogs signaled for Semtex vapor signatures and ammonium nitrate.” The big man’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re up for this, McLeod? Your hands took a beating yesterday during that circuit fire. I can pull Kelly in to handle this.”

  Thomas Kelly had a wife and two kids, with a third on the way. He had good hands but only half the experience Noah did.

  “Negative, sir. I’m suited and ready. Time may be critical here.”

  After a moment Noah’s superior nodded. “It’s all yours then. Keep your eye on the ball.”

  Noah nodded and stared down the empty vista of cement in front of the warehouse door. Sounds seemed to recede until all he heard was the heavy thump of his heartbeat inside his protective suit. He shook his head, shoving down errant thoughts of Grace, his parents and all the things he wanted to do before he died.

  Sweat trickled into his eyes beneath the heavy helmet. Already the 100-pound bomb suit weighed on his shoulders. He felt a rush of adrenaline.

  No one moved as he started the long walk toward the warehouse.

  “I’m here, Matt,” he whispered. “Take a little walk with me, bro. This one feels bad.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  TATIANA OPENED THE FRONT DOOR, her hair in disarray and flour streaking her cheek. “You talked her into coming, Alex. I’m so glad. Please come in, Grace.”

  Alex smiled at his wife. “That’s not all I talked her into, my love.” He walked past her, looking smug.

  Tatiana glanced at the bag Grace carried. “She is going to knit?”

  “No, she is going to teach us how to make that wonderful peasant bread from France. And then she is going to knit while the dough is rising.”

  “Really?” Tatiana clapped her hands in delight. “I have tried many ways, with all kinds of flour and all kinds of starter. It is always nice but not special. No chewy center. I am about to give up, and then you mention knowing the recipe, and I am so happy. I have a pot of tea ready and I have just finished a fresh poppy-seed cake.”

  “Perfect. You can trade me your cake recipe for my bread recipe.” As Grace set down her purse, a pair of knitting needles poked out. “But first I’d like to see the kittens and Ivan. I miss them all. And after that, if you do feel like knitting…”

  Tatiana gnawed at her lip. “I was thinking to start again, just a simple scarf. I have forgotten so much. I don’t remember how to make the first stitches. Me, who knitted my first hat when I was four!”

  “I can show you all that. I have a feeling you’ll be flying through the rows inside an hour.” Grace smiled as Alex took out beige cooking aprons for all three of them.

  He rolled up his sleeves. “So I should get the package of yeast, right?”

  “Actually, no.” Grace held up her bag. “Trade secret. This is a natural fruit-based starter. Not sourdough or commercial yeast. This is the special sauce.” Grace took off her coat. “Ready to rock and roll?”

  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER Tatiana had three pages of notes, and her first loaves of bread dough curing. The bread was French, but based on an old Italian recipe Grace had learned in Florence. She had noticed Tatiana’s growing tension, and her darting glances at the wall clock. When that happened, Grace launched into a new detail of bread making.

  They were about to stop for tea when the phone rang. Tatiana shot out of her chair, dropping the big wooden spoon from her hands. Her face was stark white.

  “Answer it.” She took a hard breath. “Something is wrong. Alex, I can feel the weight. Too many shadows.” Her hands shook. She closed her eyes, leaning rigidly against the counter. “Please, God,” she whispered. “No more bad news…”

  Alex pulled her against his chest and squeezed her. He murmured something in her ear, a look of unspeakable tenderness in his eyes. But Grace saw the tension in his shoulders and knew that Alex was fighting his own battle with fear as he turned to pick up the phone.

  Without thinking, Grace moved beside Tatiana while Alex answered.

  Tatiana’s fingers locked on Grace’s arm. If it was bad news…

  Instead of fear, Grace summoned an image of Noah laughing as he ground snow down her collar. Then another memory of Noah tucking the puppy under his jacket.

  Nothing can happen to him, she thought fiercely. Please.

  Noah’s father cleared his throat. “Yes? He told you to call? I see. He will be busy then. Yes, I understand.”

  Grace leaned forward, straining to catch every syllable.

  “When he is done, yes. Thank you for calling. It is…good to have news,” he finished gruffly.

  Alex put down the phone and looked at the two women. By now, Grace had her arm around Tatiana’s shoulders, while Tatiana’s hands opened and closed on Grace’s other arm.

  “He is safe?” The words were a hoarse whisper. “Noah—he is not hurt?”

  “He’s fine, Tatiana. It was busy for a while. Now they’re clearing up the last odds and ends. He will call when he can. For now he wanted us to know that all is well.”

  It wasn’t a routine night, Grace thought, shivering. Alex’s face registered that clearly.

  How did they bear this terrible waiting and uncertainty? How did they go on, week after week, knowing that one night h
e could leave and never come back? Grace thought about how much courage that took.

  She wasn’t sure she had it.

  Silence fell. Then Tatiana’s shoulders squared. “Now we will have tea. We will eat cake and watch our dough rise and we will not think of shadows.” She smiled slowly at Alex. “Tonight we will use our best china, too. We will celebrate life and family.” A bit of her old spirit returned and she flashed an impish glance at Grace. “And excellent crusty bread too, I think.”

  THEY DID JUST AS TATIANA wished. They had tea and cake and talked about dumplings. They argued about travel and politics and olive oil. With encouragement from Grace, Tatiana started to knit again, muttering when the stitches were crooked and tight. “Bah, it is terrible, this. Once my needles would fly. I could make a whole sock in a night.” She shook her head. “But I will work hard. It helps to have a good teacher.”

  “It will come back. In a week you’ll be burning through a set of socks again.”

  “Not in a week, I think. But soon.” Tatiana took a long breath and rolled her shoulders, looking down at her old metal needles. “I forgot how the wool feels in my fingers. How the needles glide. So calm it makes me. Thank you for this gift of helping me remember.” She patted Grace’s hand and stood up. “Time to check on the bread.”

  Time seemed to slip into a pleasant blur. Grace gave Tatiana instructions while she continued to knit. All of them laughed when Alex appeared with a puppy under one arm and three wriggling kittens under the other.

  “Now everyone is here. Come and visit with Grace, you unruly lot.”

  Grace hugged the warm, furry bodies one by one, caught in almost tangible sense of calm and belonging.

  But she didn’t really belong here. It would be dangerous to become too attached to this brave, stubborn family. She barely knew Noah. Who knew what the future would bring? Grace tried to stay polite but detached even though her heart demanded that she listen and trust.

  Not yet.

  Love didn’t grow in a day, she thought tiredly. She was asking for heartache if she believed that.

  The phone rang again. Tatiana flew to the desk, scattering flour in her path. “Yes?” She gripped the phone, staring out into the falling snow. “You are fine? Yes? Thank heaven. And you will be done before long? No?” Her eyes clouded. “All night.” But she forced a smile. “My son, the important man. Yes, Grace is here with us. We are making bread from her recipe. Very clever it is, too. So you must finish and come home while it is hot from the oven.” She listened for a few minutes, then nodded and said something in Ukrainian. After that she held out the phone to Grace. “He wishes to speak with you.” With a quick smile Tatiana whisked Alex out of the room, leaving Grace alone.

  “Noah?”

  “Right here. Thanks for sharing your recipe. My mom is over the moon.”

  “She’s a wonderful student.” Grace hesitated. “Is it— Are you very busy?” She wanted to say safe, but she refused to give voice to cold possibilities.

  “Things are a little tight. Several people are away at a conference, so the rest of us are playing catch-up. And it’s snowing again. How about a snowball fight when I’m done here?”

  “You’re on, pal.”

  Grace heard the deep growl of a truck motor. Noah covered the phone, answering a question she couldn’t hear. When he was done, he sounded rushed. “I’d better go. But tell my mom and dad I’ll be in touch. And tell them not to worry,” he added firmly. There were more voices nearby. He spoke to someone, then returned. “Gotta go. I’ll be thinking about our snowball fight,” he said quietly. “About how your mouth tastes in the snow.”

  Heat swirled through her body. Grace swallowed hard. “Finish up there. Then come find out,” she whispered.

  But the line was already dead.

  SOME HOW, BETWEEN TENDING dough and helping Tatiana rediscover the intricacies of casting on stitches and pattern reading, the night flew past. It was almost one o’clock when Alex caught her yawning.

  “Sorry. But I think I’d better go. The rest of your dough will be fine in the refrigerator until morning.”

  Tatiana took her hands. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? You could sleep in Noah’s old bed.” She glanced shrewdly at Grace. “I think you must be a little curious, no?”

  Grace blushed, which made both Alex and Tatiana laugh. “It’s too much trouble. And I have to be up very early,” she said quickly.

  “No problem. Alex and I are always early to wake. Alex can drop you wherever you like. Can’t you, my love?”

  “Of course.” He refilled Grace’s plate. “Have more cake.”

  Grace looked from one to the other. “You aren’t going to let me talk my way out, are you?”

  “No,” the two said together.

  “And think how you will have more time with the kittens,” Tatiana said quickly.

  “Low blow,” Grace muttered. But she had to admit that she was curious about Noah’s old bed room. “I’ll stay. Thank you for the invitation and for a wonderful evening.”

  “So polite.” Tatiana smiled broadly at her husband. “Yes, always perfect manners. I wish I could have seen her digging in that Dumpster to save her kittens, Alex. Noah called her unforgettable.” Tatiana picked up her knitting needles and chuckled. “I believe only someone very special could take our son’s breath away,” she added wisely.

  Grace had the clear feeling that she had been out-manned and outgunned by a champion. When Tatiana brought in one of the kittens to sleep in Grace’s lap while she knitted, Grace was sure of it.

  THE HOUSE WAS QUIET.

  The fire had died down and everyone was asleep. Grace stared up at the ceiling, warm and cocooned beneath a down quilt in the upstairs bedroom that had once belonged to Noah.

  It felt odd and impossibly intimate to be curled up beneath the soft blankets where Noah once slept. She thought of Noah here in these sheets, dreaming.

  I’ll be thinking about how your mouth tastes in the snow.

  Through the window she watched a single star winking above the trees. She wondered if Noah had seen the same star, bright and glinting, as a young boy. There were so many things she didn’t know about him, so many puzzles to be solved. But Grace dimly realized one thing.

  Her feelings for him were nothing like what she had felt for James. This emotion between them was deep and unpredictably complex. It didn’t require words or need constant confirmation. She didn’t know where their relationship would go. She couldn’t see how they would make anything work with their busy lives set so far apart.

  What if it wasn’t meant to be serious? What if her heart ended up tied in knots, torn painfully in two again?

  Maybe, a quiet voice whispered, getting hurt was the price you paid to know you were alive.

  AFTER ALEX MCLEOD finished checking the house and putting out the fire, he walked slowly up to bed. He found his wife where she usually was, reading or working in her big wing chair. Her back was turned to the door while she muttered over her knitting, but when he came closer, Alex saw that her fingers were tense.

  Cold tears slid in streams down her cheeks.

  “Tatiana, what’s wrong?”

  She jumped a little, then leaned forward, trying to hide her face. “I couldn’t sleep. Just restless. You know how I am.”

  “Yes, I do know.” Alex sat down beside her, turning her face up gently. “You were crying. Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “Because it’s my fault. Because it’s me who can’t forget. Why should I keep bothering you again and again?”

  “Why? Because I love you. Because I want to know when you’re in pain. Because years ago we promised to share everything, the pain and fear just as much as the happiness and laughter.”

  “I know. And I should have come to you tonight. But I hate to be helpless, caught up in these constant, helpless feelings that never stop. I was never weak before. How much everything is changed after Matt.”

  “Come to me. Two people can share th
e pain better than one. Promise me you will not sit like this and cry alone.”

  “I promise.” She managed the ghost of a smile. “Really. Now let’s go to bed. It’s cold and I need to feel your arms around me.”

  “Not yet. I want to see something first.”

  “Now? What is it?”

  He shook his head, wrapping a well-loved afghan around her shoulders. Then he took her hand, guiding her quietly down the long hallway. They stopped outside Noah’s old room, where Grace was sound asleep.

  Smiling, Alex stepped back and pointed inside. Tatiana peeked around the door into the room, lit only by the dim hall light.

  But the light was enough to make out the bed.

  Tatiana covered her mouth, biting back a laugh at the sight before her.

  The mother cat was stretched out across Grace’s feet, drowsy and contented. Around her the three kittens lay curled into tight balls, purring happily. Each one was tucked into another, all three strung together like fluffy commas.

  Nearby, the puppy had burrowed under the covers, with his body stretched full length and his feet in the air. His head was nestled on Grace’s shoulder.

  Tatiana gave a quiet sigh of contentment, sliding an arm around her husband’s waist. The two stood, listening to the sounds of the house shifting and the soft purring of the kittens and the gentle panting of the puppy.

  In the silence they walked back to their room, hand in hand.

  “Animals know who to trust.” Tatiana studied her husband’s strong face. “It is hard to fool them. They find the place they feel most safe.” She gripped Alex’s hand. “She is the one for Noah. I feel it, Alex. And yet…she could hurt him in a terrible way.”

  “I see that, too.” He brushed the hair off his wife’s cheek. “But that must be his choice to make. And hers. When did young people ever listen to advice, anyway?”