She placed her sandwich back on her dish. “No, nothing like that. That was a huge bite of sandwich.”
“Oh, well, I was hungry, and I love lobster.” He picked up his sandwich and bit off another huge mouthful.
“I can tell.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, but I’ve had it all my life. To me, it’s like hamburger. Dad’s a lobsterman, so we ate it several times a week. That and a lot of flounder. Those would get trapped in the pots, and Dad would bring them home for dinner. It was a real treat to have hamburgers or spaghetti.” She took another bite, about a third of the size of Jordan’s.
“Wow, I can’t imagine.”
“You know, back in the early part of the 1900s folks didn’t eat much lobster. The market was horrible. I’ve heard the pioneers thought lobsters were for poor people.”
“I’m not big on history. I only know what I’ve seen, and in New York City, I saw lobster selling for thirty bucks a pound. It was nothing to see a restaurant charge over a hundred bucks for a lobster dinner.”
“Now that amazes me. As much as I consider it hamburger, I don’t think I would pay a hundred bucks for one lobster.”
Jordan’s laughter calmed her. The more she talked with this man, the more she wanted to get to know him. Not to mention, the more she felt as if she already knew him. She sipped her cold drink.
“Nor would I. I haven’t had much lobster until I moved up here.”
“Watch the cholesterol if you add the butter.”
“You eat lobster without butter?”
“Yup. You’re eating it now without butter.”
“I know, but that’s because it’s chopped up and cold. But … is it good?”
She gave the top of his hand a patronizing tap. “Yes. I’m sorry; I have to go. Jess is just watching my booth until I’m finished with my lunch.”
“No problem. I want to mingle some more.”
She stood up and paused. “Are you enjoying it?”
“Yes. And I’m getting to meet some of the people, especially the parents of little children. They’re potential customers for portraits.”
Randi sighed. “Bye.” He just didn’t get it about money and community. She wondered if he would ever truly fit in.
He’d done it again. What, he wasn’t quite sure, but he’d seen that look on Randi’s face before. Jordan went back to his lobster roll and continued to observe the people. He certainly understood why folks enjoyed this fund-raiser for the teens. He’d really like to volunteer to be a chaperone, but Randi was right. People didn’t know him yet and might have reservations about him being responsible for their children.
Jess came over with her own lobster roll. Since he’d come to work for Dena, Jordan found Jess to be a new friend. She’d come in to work on the studio bookkeeping while he was there. Not to mention the meals he’d shared with Dena, Wayne, and Jess at their house. “How’s it going?”
“Fine. What are you responsible for today?”
“I worked before the festival to bring in enough lobsters and other seafood. Tonight we’re planning a campfire down on the beach for the youth. Dad, Mom, and I went there at dawn to dig and lay out the stones for the clambake. Have you ever been to a clambake?”
“No, I can’t say that I have.” Jordan sipped his drink.
“They’re awesome. First you dig a hole and layer the hole with rocks, generally round or oval-shaped, about the size of a football. Then you build a fire. It has to burn long and hot enough that water drizzled on the rocks will sizzle. You then remove all the coals and coat the rocks with six inches of layered seaweed. The clams go down first, then the lobsters, and on top of that you place the corn, potatoes, sausages, and so on. You cover it with canvas, and in about an hour it’s all done. The key is getting those stones well-packed and very hot.”
“Seems like a real art form.”
Jess shrugged. “Goes back to the Pilgrims—and they learned it from the Indians.”
“I’ve heard of a clambake but just never participated in one.”
“Unfortunately tonight’s bake is for the teens. It’s Mom and Dad’s way of thanking and encouraging the youth.”
“Your dad used to be one of the youth leaders, right?” Jordan picked up the camera and took a couple of candid shots.
“Yeah. I don’t know if he did it to keep me out of trouble or just because he had a passion for the teens. I think it was probably a touch of both. Once I went to college, he turned over his part to Bob Hackett, who became the church’s youth pastor.”
Jordan wasn’t sure whether he’d met Bob yet or not.
Jess took a hearty bite of her sandwich. He did the same and finished his.
“Thanks for sitting with me. I guess I should do some more mingling. I took a few pictures of the kids playing in the hippo pool. I hope we might get some potential customers from that.”
“Whoa, dude. Jordan, you have to stop thinking of this community as potential customers. Granted, they will be, but you can’t think of them in those terms. I know Mom wants to see the studio succeed, but she’s not interested in a huge profit thing. Think in terms of getting to know folks. Let them get to know you. That will bring in business around here, not regarding them as potential consumers.”
Jordan nodded his head slowly. “Ah.” Is that what Randi reacted to earlier? “Thanks for the tip.”
“No problem. Relax. Don’t stress about making such a great impression on my stepmom. She’s cool, and she’s happy with your work.”
Jordan smiled. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Later. I have a meeting with the town selectmen.”
He knew Jess had a degree in business, and he knew she’d been organizing a co-op with the lobstermen of the area. She was a smart gal for someone so young. And she hit the nail on the head concerning his issues of finances and putting them in the proper perspective. God had been dealing with him about that for years. His wants, his dreams, and his general lack of funds … well, maybe not lack of funds—but certainly no extra.
He scanned the area and focused on Randi sitting behind the table. The wind gently blew the sign back and forth above her head. He raised his camera and zoomed in. Suddenly he noticed the line holding the sign. He dropped the camera that hung around his neck and ran as fast as he could. He tackled Randi to the ground just as the sign crashed on the table.
“Are you okay?” He brushed the hair from her face. Her deep, dark eyes opened and closed and then slowly opened again. Tiny flickers of gray in her eyes became clearer. His heart thundered in his chest.
Her eyes widened. He realized he was holding her down and jumped up. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Others were running over. “What happened?”
Jordan offered Randi his hand. She placed her shaking hand in his. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He didn’t know if it was for the hand up, for removing himself from her, or for saving her from a horrible injury. “Thank the Lord I made it in time.” He turned to the gathering crowd. “The fishing line that was holding the sign broke.”
“How’d you see that?” an elderly, heavily jowled man asked.
“I caught it in my camera lens. It magnifies well.”
A woman Jordan knew he’d seen before spoke up. “I reckon Randi’s mighty pleased by your rescue. Not that you had to tackle her as if you were at a football game. You okay, Randi?”
“I’m fine. I might bruise, and I think he knocked the wind out of me.”
The crowd chuckled. Then Pastor Russell spoke up. “Better the wind than you being seriously injured.” He turned to Jordan. “Thanks for being quick on your feet.”
Jordan cleared his throat. “The Lord had His hand in it.”
“I do believe you’re right.” The pastor slapped him on the back then turned toward the gathering crowd. “I need a volunteer to get a new table out here and another to take down the other line.”
A few of the men jumped up and helped. Two guys put the brok
en table in someone’s pickup truck. Whether it was going to be repaired or taken to the dump, Jordan didn’t know and, quite frankly, wasn’t concerned. What kept going through his mind was how scared he’d been for Randi. Not that he wouldn’t have reacted the same way for someone else, but the instantaneous thought of possibly losing her ran deep. So deep that it unnerved him.
After the crowd dispersed, she came up to him and placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Jordan,” she whispered, “I think we need to talk.”
He agreed, but he couldn’t talk yet. How could he explain to a near stranger how instantly and deeply he’d fallen in love? He couldn’t. “Possibly later. I need to get back to the studio. It’s been closed longer than I planned.”
“Okay, later.” Randi walked over to the new table.
A middle-aged couple came running up to her. “Miranda?” She embraced the woman, whom Jordan assumed to be her mother.
If time and place were different, he’d love to be alone with her, to open his heart to her. But that terrified him, as well. He walked to the studio from the church. “Lord, help me here.”
five
“I’m all right, just shaken.” Randi straightened her blouse and prepared to sit down behind the new table.
“What happened?” her father asked.
“Jordan Lamont, Dena Kearns’s new employee, saw the string slipping or something in his camera and tackled me to the ground.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No, Mom, I’m fine.”
“Where is he?” her father asked.
Randi turned around, but Jordan was no longer there. “He’s gone. He said he had to go to the studio and open it up.”
“Ah, I’ll speak with him later. You’re all right?”
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“Okay, then, I have to go back to the sack races. I’m calling the next event.”
“I’ll see you later.”
Mom sat down beside her at the table. “I know you’re all right physically, but you seem pretty shaken up.”
“I am.”
“You should be. Come have an iced tea with me.” Her mother found someone else to take her place with the children, and they moved over to the refreshment area, purchased a couple of iced teas, and sat down at a private table. “Honey, you’ve been a little edgy ever since this Mr. Lamont moved into town. Has he done or said anything we should be concerned about?”
“No, Mom. He’s fine. It was me … I guess. I don’t know. He’s very demonstrative.”
“How so?”
“Well, the first time I met him, he kissed me on the cheek. That’s after I spilled the lobster bisque on him a second time.”
Her mother giggled. “I’d forgotten about that.” Her mother paused then continued. “It is alarming that a man would kiss a stranger, but if he’s, as you say, demonstrative, maybe it is just his way.”
“I figured that, but I don’t know. There’s something more. He sets me on edge.”
“Hmm.” Her mother examined her a bit closer.
Randi looked down at her lap. “I’m attracted to him to the point of its being unnerving. The second time I saw him, he reached out and touched my arm. The intimacy was so deep it scared me.”
“Ah.”
“Mom, it’s as if he trespassed into my private thoughts, into my heart. It was scary.”
“Yeah, I imagine it was. You know, we haven’t spoken much about your broken engagement and what happened between you and Cal. I think it might be time.”
Randi scanned the area to see just how private their conversation could be. “There’s really not much to say. Cal was a cad, and Brenda got what she deserved.”
“Possibly. But there is another side to that coin. What about the fact that God may not have wanted Cal to be your husband? You assumed that because you two were so compatible, it was natural for you to get married. Your father and I were thankful you both wanted to wait until Cal finished college. We felt it would give you time to realize Cal wasn’t the right man—or us time to discover the potential in him as your husband. In the end, Cal wasn’t the right man.”
“Mom, I know all this. What does it have to do with Jordan?”
“Patience, honey. I’m getting to that. You and Cal were not as close as you thought. You were friends, but not as close as, say, you and Jess. A husband, to my way of thinking, needs to be your best friend. Cal wasn’t that. Is it possible you and Jordan could be developing a friendship?”
“We are,” she blurted out. “I mean, I realized I was wrong for being afraid of him, and I’ve tried to speak with him on more than one occasion.”
“Good. I’m not saying Mr. Lamont is going to be your husband. I’m just curious about why you felt so vulnerable to him.”
Randi’s eyes widened. “I don’t know.”
“Well, pray about it. I’ve got to run. Thank Mr. Lamont for me for saving your life.”
“Sure.”
“Be careful, Miranda. Trust your better judgment.”
The rest of the afternoon, she thought back on her mother’s challenge regarding her past relationship with Cal. She thought about how Jordan had come to her rescue and how secure she felt in his arms. Something she hadn’t felt since Cal had betrayed her.
Yes, she and Jordan had a lot to talk about. If only they could find the time and the right setting in which to do it. She was concerned about being alone with him. Not that she didn’t trust him, but because her heart felt so vulnerable.
And what was his problem that he had to work 24/7?
Inside his mailbox Jordan found his first forwarded bill from Boston, his cell-phone bill. He slipped his jackknife in the extra-thick envelope and sliced through the paper fold. His eyes widened upon seeing the total amount due. “Three hundred and twenty dollars?”
He scanned the myriad of pages and discovered the problem. He was in an area that wasn’t covered by his network’s roaming fees. Unfortunately he wasn’t prepared for that kind of expense this month. Moving had taken a greater portion of his savings than anticipated. Not to mention the new equipment he purchased before coming because he felt it would help him do his job better. He looked at the new 500mm zoom lens he’d just received in the mail. “Lord, should I return it or simply fast for most of the month? Not that I’m trying to make light of fasting, and I definitely could spend more time in the Word and in prayer, but …”
His glance flickered back to the bill. He pulled out his cell phone and called the three-digit number that connected him with his service provider. Fifteen minutes later, he had managed to get through all the sales pitches and canceled his phone service. And since he hadn’t renewed his agreement last month, he wouldn’t owe a fee for stopping it.
He’d have to shop around for the best service in this area.
Shaking off the unpleasantness of remote living, he pulled the digital cards from his cameras and went to work developing the candid shots he’d taken at the festival. No sooner had he loaded the images than the bell jangled over the front door to the shop.
“Hello?” a female voice called.
Jordan turned. “May I help you?”
The red-haired lady sported a healthy shade of sunburn pink on her nose and cheeks. She wore a white skirt; a striped, navy top; and Top-Siders. “I was wondering if you process digital pictures within an hour?”
“Sure can. Load the images you want printed over there.” Jordan pointed to the equipment that stood against the right wall. “Or you can hand me the card, and I can take care of it for you.”
“No, thanks. I’ll do it myself.”
“No problem. Give me a holler if you need anything.”
“’Kay.”
He judged the woman to be in her early thirties.
Jordan went back to his pictures. He cropped the photos for the best four-by-six prints. He’d learned long ago to photograph a larger border on digital cameras because the enlargement
process was limited to multiples of four-by-six, and an eight-by-ten could not provide a perfect ratio enlargement.
The sweet, toothless grin of a child filled the screen. She seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her before. Of course, with a town as small as Squabbin Bay he’d probably seen her around on more than one occasion. He printed out a four-by-six and moved on to the next print.
“Excuse me.”
“How can I help you, miss?”
“How soon will these prints be ready?”
“Less than an hour. You can return later if you like.”
She stepped back then paused. “Does anyone else work here?”
“No. Well, yes. My boss. But she’s busy with the festival. I’m the only one today. I wasn’t even open until a few minutes before you arrived.”
She glanced out the front window. “All—all right,” she stammered. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
“I’ll have them ready for you.”
Jordan worked on his own prints, processed a few new orders from customers then gathered the photos together for the lady’s order. He thumbed through the prints, checking for quality. Seeing no problems, he set them in the envelope for small pictures and rang up the printed label, with the price tag sealing the envelope shut.
“Hey, Jordan.” Randi swung open the door. “What are you doing here? Why are you working?”
“I wanted to get a start on some of the pictures I took today. It’s a good thing. I’ve had a half dozen customers this afternoon.”
Randi placed her hands on her hips. “Has anyone ever told you that you work too much?”
“No, but I take it you’re about to educate me.”
“How’d you guess? Come on—you’re coming back to the festival with me.”
“Sorry, but I can’t. I have a customer who’s returning for her prints. She should be here any minute.”
“Fine.” Randi leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “I’ll wait. Then you’re closing shop and taking the rest of the day off. After all, you saved my life today, and you deserve to have some fun. You know the Lord talks about taking a rest every now and again.”
Trespassed Hearts Page 4