by Karen Rock
Had she worked with Brady at his indoor picnic event, she might have made a sale or two. But her pleased boss had told her this morning that purchasing Tisdale’s acreage would give her the numbers needed to guarantee her promotion. She’d beat Brady unless he snapped up more land today. Worry clutched at her until she forced it away. Daniel had assured her that she’d make the sale, or, at the very least, that it wouldn’t fall into Brady’s hands. Her mind marveled at his reassurance...and the other confessions he’d made last night.
“You’re quiet today.” Daniel’s deep voice broke into her thoughts and made her jump.
She glanced at him quickly, her stomach doing a weird twist, then back out at the birch-and-poplar-lined road. “Just thinking.”
“About?” In her peripheral vision, she caught the sparkle of his eyes and pressed her briefcase to her jumpy stomach.
“Work.”
“I see,” he said, then turned off the classic-rock channel he’d been playing. “So you can think.” She didn’t need to look to know he was smiling.
She picked off her nail polish, her mind replaying their conversation at the fireworks. Her feelings for Daniel had grown, yet she hadn’t guessed he felt the same way. It seemed like a tangible presence that sat between them, arms crossed, foot tapping, waiting for—what? She wanted to tell him that she’d loved him once, too.
She wouldn’t let herself take that risk again, yet it’d felt so right to be in his arms. Even if it could work out, did she deserve that kind of happiness? She caught her reflection in the side mirror and frowned. A second letter from Peter’s attorney had arrived today and she’d put it in the garbage—where it belonged.
To distract herself, she grabbed the carton of fruit Sue had sent. The last of the season’s strawberries melted like honey in her mouth. If only life could be this simple and sweet. But she’d made too many mistakes, had changed too much to ever go back to the girl who’d stolen embraces with Daniel behind barn doors and spent more time kissing in the grass than haying it.
When a few drops splattered against her hand she cranked the window closed. Summer storms in New England arrived out of nowhere—a sudden rising of wind shunting in fat-bellied clouds and letting loose sheets of rain that caused flash floods and rivers to overflow their banks.
Water dropped from a dark gray sky with increasing frequency until Daniel clicked on the windshield wipers. Through the blur, she made out a farm she’d purchased last week, Willow Park, and knew they were near. Her heart leaped. It was now or never. If she lost this deal, Brady might pass her in numbers and she’d return to Chicago defeated.
As Daniel turned onto the downward sloping driveway, his truck seemed to shudder and she heard him groan.
“What’s wrong?”
He scrubbed a hand across his eyes and steered them downhill. “Out of gas.”
She looked at the gauge. The orange needle pointed at E. “You’re kidding.”
“Wish I was.”
She shoved her Post-it note in her briefcase’s outer pocket and looked at her foot brace in despair. There’d be no walking home. “Didn’t you check it before you came?”
“I had other things on my mind, Jodi.” His eyes lingered on her, then returned to the winding drive.
“What are we going to do?”
He slowed the rolling truck to a halt before a brick home that looked more like a country estate than a farmhouse.
“We’ll ask Tisdale for some gas. He’ll have some. Don’t worry.” When his hand covered hers, she pulled away, shocked by the fierce leap of her heart at his touch.
She peered through the torrential rain and noticed crumbling stonework, a broken basement window and collapsed barn roofs. Her anxiety lifted. Mr. Tisdale would sell and she’d buy tickets to Chicago tomorrow. The sooner she escaped Daniel and Cedar Bay the better. They were finding the place in her heart that had never fully healed.
He opened the door and the whipping wind yanked it out of his grasp. “Let’s go!” he hollered over the rising gale.
Jodi tucked her briefcase under her arm and deployed her umbrella once she stepped out into the storm. But by the time she’d clomped her way up the cracked sidewalk, Daniel’s hand on her back, they were both a bedraggled mess. She hadn’t seen such an intense storm since she’d moved away.
Daniel rang the bell as the rain turned into hailstones, big as marbles, driven sideways by the tempest. Her umbrella turned inside out, then flew from her grasp, skittering across the backyard’s long grass and lifting in a draft to fall upon Lake Champlain. Daniel pounded on the door as rain flattened her hair and clothes.
“Wait here,” he shouted over the howling wind, and sprinted around the house.
Jodi shivered and stepped beneath the shallow overhang above the front door, her briefcase clutched to her chest. Where was Mr. Tisdale? Daniel had promised. If not for his word, she’d be at the Midland picnic picking up more referrals. She doused a flicker of doubt. He wouldn’t have fooled her again, would he? Used his charm to distract her from Brady’s offer, then brought her to this isolated spot and—her temperature rose—run out of gas!
“He’s not here,” Daniel panted when he jogged back, his polo shirt and khaki shorts a second skin, his hair pushed forward like a Roman general’s.
Lightning tore a jagged hole in the sky, and a thunderclap arrived at exactly the same moment, exploding directly overhead. It was so loud, Jodi cried out. On the roof of a nearby barn, the bolt scored a direct hit, bringing down a tilted weathervane.
“Hold on!” he yelled, and reached to scoop her up. But she checked his momentum by pushing hard against his chest; his touch melted her when she needed to stay firm. Resist.
“I can do this.”
He shook his head, grabbed her around the middle and threw her over his shoulder.
She pummeled his back and thrashed. “Put me down.”
“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself,” he called as he trotted toward the truck.
Another crack of lightning hit a tall oak nearby and a limb crashed to the ground. She screamed and Daniel swerved to a rocky outcropping that jutted onto Lake Champlain.
“Are you crazy? Let’s get in the truck.” Her rising voice competed with the howling wind.
“Not with all those trees around.” With a bang, he kicked open the door to an old abandoned lighthouse. “We’ll wait out the storm in here. Check for gas cans, too, though they’re probably stored in the barns.”
“You planned this!” She pounded on his shoulder as he strode across the space. “You knew Tisdale wouldn’t be here, made sure you ran out of gas, so that I wouldn’t make the sale.”
“Is that what you think?”
His eyes delved into hers as he deposited her gently on a wooden bench that encircled the damp, musty interior. They studied each other and, after a moment where only their harsh breaths sounded in the still space, she shook her head. Daniel was a tough competitor, but he always played fair. It was easy to blame past trouble for current problems.
“I’m sorry, Daniel.” She bit her lip and couldn’t look away. “It’s been a tough few days and I’m taking it out on you.”
“Apology accepted.” His dimples appeared and his eyes gleamed, and suddenly she was very aware of their aloneness.
Rain pounded on glass windows fifty feet above them while water trickled from the octagon-shaped roof. A large light was mounted at the top of a long spiral staircase. Tarnished brass ornamented the space with reflective panels glinting in the meager illumination, making it feel like the inside of a jewelry box.
“I forgot about this place.” She looked around in wonder, remembering the fun of exploring these out-of-commission lighthouses. “This is Windmill Point, isn’t it?”
Daniel’s eyes lit up. “We came here once. Remember?” He sat beside her
and took her hand.
“Stop.” And she needed him to. She was losing this war with her heart.
His insistent eyes met hers. “When I heard you were coming home, I never thought I’d feel this way again. But I can’t help it. I care for you and Tyler. It’s how I feel. I might wish I didn’t, but it would be like asking the sun not to rise.”
To her consternation, her voice trembled. “How do you know anything about me, Daniel? You say you care, but you don’t know who I am now or what I need. For you, in the end, I am just another player in your game to control everything and everyone.”
He pressed her hand to his pounding heart. “That might have been true once. But it’s not anymore. I care about you, the old Jodi and the new.” His eyes searched hers. “Tell me you feel the same way. That something else is coming between us. Because whatever it is, I can fix it.” His fierce tone made her eyes prick with tears.
“You thought of me as a charity case once,” she said with a catch in her voice. “I don’t want your pity again and won’t repeat the past.”
He flinched, but didn’t let go when she jerked her hands free. The charm he wore like armor had vanished and he looked wounded and vulnerable. “You think I don’t understand what I did to you? Did to myself?” He stopped, as if realizing how close to being out of control he sounded. “I drove you away once because I didn’t open up and share what I was going through. I thought I could handle it on my own. But, Jodi, you can tell me anything. You’re not a charity case and we weren’t together because I felt sorry for you. You’re strong, caring and, after seeing you with Tyler, I know you’re the best mother.”
His last words pierced her heart, an arrow shot at point-blank. Her mind staggered backward, stopping on a long-suppressed memory.
“Daddy? Daddy home? Daddy? Daddy home? Daddy...” She smoothed a hand over Tyler’s wet face and pulled him away from the front door. Her temples throbbed from his ceaseless cries and his refusal to sleep in case his father came home. She wanted to scream along with Tyler, furious at her callous husband, who’d checked into a hotel and out of their lives a week earlier, leaving her to explain the unexplainable.
“Sweetie. Daddy is gone away and...” Her voice trailed off when she thought of her many unanswered voice mails and texts. She had no idea when Peter would return to say goodbye to Tyler, or visit him. She’d tried making sense of this to Tyler all week, but without hearing further from Peter, none of it made sense to her, either.
“Daddy! Daddy home!” Tyler’s voice rose another decibel. He launched out of her arms and flung himself at the front door, banging his head against it with each word. “Daddy! Daddy home! Daddy! Daddy home!”
“Hush! Stop! Tyler, be quiet!” she screamed, panicked at the red lump swelling on his forehead, frustrated that, after a week of asking for his father, Tyler still believed Peter cared enough to answer his call.
Tyler stopped and turned to her, his big blue eyes full of fear. She’d never spoken that harshly to him before, and she ached that she’d hurt him. But she didn’t know how else to get him to stop pining for something he’d never have again. To stop hurting himself.
“Let’s go to bed, okay, baby?”
His limp body fell against her, his mouth moving without making a sound as his eyes closed.
If she’d known that it’d be the last time he’d speak, she would have apologized then instead of waiting until morning. She’d thought, mistakenly, that Tyler had needed sleep when he’d really needed her. She’d let down a lot of people in her life—her father, Daniel and, unforgivably, Tyler.
Daniel had hit on the real reason she would never love again or give him another chance. A truth she’d buried until Daniel’s faith had brought it to the surface. The pain made her gasp, and she pulled away and scrambled to her feet. Despite her footgear, she headed for the iron staircase.
“Where are you going?” he called.
“I need to be alone. To think.” Her eyes stung and the world in front of her went watery, colors and shapes sloshing together.
She didn’t look down when she’d reached the top and pulled open a door that led to a narrow walkway surrounding the lighthouse.
“Jodi, don’t go out there. It’s dangerous. Wait!”
But she ignored him and slipped outside. The rain had tapered to a downpour, the thunderstorm moving farther west over the Green Mountains. Drenched anyway, she paced, her hand trailing along the soft wooden rail topper. Down below, Lake Champlain was white and gray, colored by storm clouds and chaffing waves. It reflected her mood. She knew that she wasn’t a good mother.
She stood against the rail, caught in a vortex of grief, fear and yearning. How had she kept this secret from herself all these months? It explained so much. The wind whistled around the lighthouse.
“Jodi!” Daniel took a step toward her. His gaze was fastened to her face as if he couldn’t look away.
“Go away.” The wind tore the words from her mouth and sent them skittering across the churning lake.
He took another step, and now he was close enough to touch her. She jerked back and a hand cupped her arm when she tottered, leaning over the ledge. He pulled her against him. “Come inside.” The gray day turned his insistent eyes more green than yellow. “These boards are hundreds of years old.”
Despite the one creaking under her foot, she shook her head. She felt the strength of his muscles beneath his drenched shirt and wished, with all her might, that she could lean on him and never feel alone again. But she needed him gone. Daniel was a light that illuminated all of her shadows, and what she saw was unbearable.
“Please.” She stepped back and extended her arms, palms up. Her heart was beating so hard it made her dizzy. “Please go,” she repeated.
When he stroked her cheeks, she trembled and a tear escaped, followed by another. The grief poured out, blackening the air and weighing on her chest so that she couldn’t breathe properly.
“Shh. Hush,” he murmured, pulling her close, rocking her back and forth. “Whatever it is, no one will hurt you in any way. I would never let that happen.”
She wished she could move, wished she could reach out and hug him back, but she couldn’t. Her arms felt frozen at her sides. His face was close to hers, so close that she could see her own reflection in his eyes.
“It’s not me,” she gasped, her words sounding as watery as the air. “It’s Tyler.” She pushed away from him and looked out at the foggy air ghosting across the lake’s surface.
“What’s wrong with Tyler?”
The absolute sincerity in his voice finally undid her. He saw only the good in Tyler, and lately, in her. She owed him the truth, no matter the damage it inflicted. He’d kept his true feelings from her once to devastating effect. It’d be hypocritical if she did the same.
“He doesn’t speak.”
“Sue said he stopped when his father walked out. When I meet the jerk, I’ll—”
She pressed a trembling finger to his full lips. “I’m the jerk.” The pain of her admission ripped through her.
“What?” His spiked lashes blinked at her through the misting rain.
“It’s me. I’m the reason Tyler doesn’t talk anymore. Not his father. Me.” Her chest heaved and for a moment she struggled to speak. Daniel reached out but she stepped back. She didn’t want his pity. Didn’t deserve his solace.
“When Peter left, Tyler kept asking for his father. Over and over.” She lowered a shaking hand from her mouth. “And over.”
Understanding dawned in Daniel’s eyes. “You told him to stop talking.”
Jodi nodded, beyond words, as tears mingled with the rain streaming down her cheeks. It was her greatest failure since the day she hadn’t helped her father. Impulsive, just like her mother said. She’d lost control of her frustration and her son had lost his speech.
The more she tried to contain herself, the more she broke down, as if the tears were all the things that she could never say—the humiliation, the strain of living with this guilt she’d hidden from herself, of blaming herself.
Her tears flooded Daniel’s shirt, her skin cold and clammy against the cloth. She had always felt safe in his arms, this beautiful, strong childhood rival then boyfriend.
His hand slid over her hair—long, gentle strokes. As the storm subsided, within and without, he moved her away from him a little, his eyes fixed on hers. “You are not a bad mother. I’ve seen you with Tyler, on the tractor, in the strawberry fields, at the field day. You love him, and he’ll get better. At his pace. And if that’s not fast enough for some people, then they can—” He stopped himself and wiped away a few soggy strands of hair that had become plastered to her face. “No. Their opinions don’t count. All that matters is how you and Tyler feel. Your own happiness. And from now on, that’s what I care about, too.”
“But after what I did—”
“You were under pressure and snapped. It doesn’t make you a bad person or a bad mother. No parent is perfect. No family is the Waltons. Look at mine. But what’s important is that you’re working hard to make things better.”
She stared at his earnest face, marveling at his faith in her. His support. “That’s why I need to get him into Wonders Primary. I made him stop talking and it’s up to me to help him get better.”
Daniel crossed his arms. “Then why aren’t you there now?”
Jodi took a steadying breath. She’d told him this much and he hadn’t pitied her. In fact, he admired her. She could trust him with the rest. “The tuition is too much. When my boss offered me Cedar Bay I turned it down, until he promised a promotion and bonus if I got enough farmland.”