“Yeah, I’ve forgiven both of them. I’m just not crazy about being close to either one. Of course Cal’s disappeared. Brenda must be really hurting.”
“I imagine.” Jess took the paper and tossed it in the trash.
“What did you do that for?”
“There are other houses. Besides, I want my best friend to come visit. I wouldn’t want you staying away because of who lived there before me.”
“I don’t think I’d have a problem with that.”
“No problem. Hey, tell me—why’d you go out with Jordan? I thought you were keeping a low profile with him.”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“I noticed.”
Jordan’s comment about her being his second friend in town came to mind. Randi asked, “Are you interested?” They’d had an unwritten rule that if one of them was interested in dating a guy, the other would stay away from him.
“No. He’s not my type. Although he does have that handsome actor, shoulder-length hair thing going for him.”
Randi smiled. “Yeah, he does.”
“So what’s he like on a date? Details, girlfriend—I want details.”
“First off, it wasn’t a date. I wanted to thank him for saving my life.”
“Oh, right. Fill me in on that one, too.”
Randi laughed and shared, ever so briefly, about the two major events in her life the day before that involved a certain Jordan Lamont.
“Well, I must tell you, he did better than you and showed up for service today.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. I can’t believe I overslept.”
“It’s your first date since Cal.” Jess raised her finger to hold off Randi’s protest. “It was a date, no matter what you say. He paid. How was that a reward for saving your life?”
Randi clamped her mouth shut and pouted.
“Gotcha. By the way, he’s about to come in.” Jess waved toward the sliding glass door.
Randi turned to see him holding a tall glass of tea in his hand. His hair was down, and his trusty rubber band was on his wrist. His appeal went so much further than that. Their ability to talk last night about deep and hurtful events in her life wound him tighter around her heart.
“Close your mouth. You’re drooling,” Jess whispered.
Jordan eased through the sliding glass door toward Miranda. “How sore are you?”
“Not too bad. The extra rest helped.”
“Good. I’m sorry I tackled you so hard.”
“Don’t be.”
Jess popped up. “I’m going to get another burger. Anyone else want one?”
“No, thanks.”
“I’m fine,” Jordan said, closing the distance between him and Miranda. “You haven’t touched one of your burgers. I thought they were your favorite.”
A nervous chuckle escaped her lips. “Were. Now I prefer steak.”
“Ah.” He sat down beside her at the table.
“Dena’s happy with your design of her Web page. When can we spend some time working on a proposal for mine?”
“Soon.” She took a huge bite of her hamburger. Jordan loved a woman who ate in front of a man. He’d had too many dates who would eat rabbit food in public, only to go home and eat something else. If they wanted a steak dinner, they should have ordered it. But, no, they were trying to impress. Instead it only turned him off. It was another thing he liked about Miranda. He really did like her real name more than her nickname. He supposed it had something to do with Randi sounding like a guy’s name. Over the years, many people had mistaken his name also.
“I’m going on a photo shoot to the Sudan next week. How about when I get back?”
Her eyes wide, Miranda nodded, still chewing her burger.
“Hey, you two, come on out. It’s time for volleyball.”
She groaned. “Coming.”
“Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“If I don’t start moving, I’ll just be worse tomorrow.”
“All right then. I believe we’ve been summoned.” Jordan stood up and dumped his empty paper plate in the trash.
“You don’t know the half of it. Have you ever played with these guys before?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t. Why?”
“Well, I know how you feel about exercise. Let’s just say you’re going to be hurting worse than I am now.”
He could feel the blood drain from his face.
She looped her arm around his. All the blood came rushing back. “Lead on.”
An hour later, Jordan sat exhausted on the deck.
“You need to start running.” Dena slapped a towel on the rail beside him.
“I see you’re huffing and puffing.”
“Yeah, but I’m twice your age.”
“Touché.” Miranda laughed. “He has a thing about exercise. It’s not in his vocabulary.”
“Yes, it is. I just choose to ignore it.”
Everyone broke out in laughter. After tall glasses of ice water, most of the guests started leaving. Jordan gave Wayne a hand cleaning up, while the women went inside to work on the dishes.
“So how do you like Squabbin Bay?” Wayne asked.
“I like it.” Jordan lifted a couple of paper plates that had blown off the railing.
“Are you looking forward to your photojournalism trip to the Sudan next week?”
“Yes. I hope to get a few things settled in the studio before I leave.” This trip to the Sudan was just the kind of opportunity he’d hoped to get while working for Dena Russell Kearns.
“Dena says that area of the world is especially pretty but filled with civil unrest at the moment. Have you taken to heart what she’s told you regarding safety measures?”
“Absolutely. She’s been doing this for a while now.”
“I’m just glad you’re taking the trip and not her,” Wayne said. “Not that I want anything bad to happen to you, but …”
Jordan chuckled. “If I had a wife, I wouldn’t want her going either.”
Wayne smiled. “I’m glad you understand.” He shoved a smaller bag of garbage into the large green one he was holding. “Looks like I’ll be running to the dump tomorrow morning.”
“Now that’s one reason I’m glad I’m living in town. I can at least put my trash cans out for pickup.”
“It’s taken me a bit to get used to. But for this view I don’t mind.”
Jordan turned and fixed his eyes upon the dark blue waters of the seascape. The ocean seemed calm and tranquil. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I think I could get used to no trash removal for this view also.”
“Hey, you two, what’s taking so long?” Dena called from the sliding glass door.
“Just admiring the view, hon. We’ll put these bags in my truck and be right in.”
“Actually I have to be going. Thanks for the dinner, Dena. I’ll see you in the morning at the studio.” Jordan took the bag he was filling and carried it to the truck. A quick handshake with Wayne, and he was off.
In the rearview mirror, he could see Dena and Wayne’s house. Inside sat the one person he’d love to spend more time with. But he’d taken off most of yesterday, and the pile of work to finish before he left town loomed in front of him.
Back at the studio, he started working right away. By ten he was feeling the lateness of the night before and went straight to bed.
His phone rang. “Hello?”
“Jordan, it’s Randi. There’s a stranger in the bushes in front of the studio.”
“What?”
“I was driving by and saw someone.”
“What would they be doing in the bushes?” His mind traveled to the equipment downstairs. “Call the police.” He hung up the phone, slipped on his jeans, and tiptoed down the stairs.
eight
Randi had been so embarrassed for getting the entire town in an uproar after assuming she’d seen someone in the bushes. She’d kept herself hidden for the past week—which meant Jordan was now in the Sudan and away from h
er silly behavior.
“Hey, Randi,” Charlie Cross greeted her as she walked into the post office. “Seen any bushes lately?”
“Hardy, har, har, Charlie. I saw something.”
“Probably did—a coon or something. Don’t mind the teasing. You did the right thing.”
“I know.”
Charlie held the door open for her, and she entered the post office. “Hello, Mabel. How are you?”
“Fine, fine. Folks still giving you a hard time about last week?”
“All in good fun,” Randi admitted.
“Well, if you don’t mind me saying so, I think you did the right thing. I heard Georgette Townsend the other day say things were looking mighty strange at some of the rental cottages.”
Randi didn’t want to get into a gossip session, so she kept quiet.
Didn’t take long before Mabel had all the details out. “Too many strangers living in town these days. I think there’re five right now.”
Jordan would still be one, and possibly Dena. Although, having married Wayne, she’s probably no longer one of the five. “I know of Jordan.”
“He’s no never mind. He works for Dena. It’s the group of folks renting the two cottages on Westwood Creek Road. I saw one at the festival, but none of the others came out.”
“Well, that doesn’t make them strange. Not everyone in town came out for the festival.”
“True, but you’d think—oh, don’t mind me. I don’t know what to think. Georgette, she’s the one that’s all fired up about them. Not that she’s called the police or anything. They haven’t broken the law or nothing. They’re just strangers and don’t come into town much.”
“Speaking of coming into town …” She needed to get Mabel redirected to the task at hand, or she’d be stuck here for an hour. “I need to mail these.”
“Oh, dear, listen to me rattling on so.” Mabel weighed the mail. “That will be four dollars and eighty cents, please.”
Randi handed her a five and pocketed the change. With the mail done, she headed to her waitressing job. Oddly enough, she hadn’t known of strangers moving into town. She wondered when that had happened and how she had missed it. Was Squabbin Bay actually growing?
Customers passed through quickly, tips were accumulating, and Randi felt good about the day.
“Hey, Randi, how you doing?” Jess plopped down at the counter.
“Good. How’s your day?”
“Wonderful. I’m all excited. The paperwork has gone through with the state. We officially have a lobster fishing co-op.”
“Woo-hoo! That’s great news! What can I get you?”
“A banana split. I feel like celebrating.”
“Coming right up.” Randi topped off another customer’s coffee then scooped up an oversized banana split for Jess. “Here you go. I’ll be right back.” Randi checked on her other customers and returned to Jess. “So what does this mean?”
“The goal is to get a better price for the lobster in order to stabilize the market somewhat. We’re also working with the hatchery to bring in more fertilized lobsters to have their eggs hatched in the safety of the hatchery then later released to keep the numbers up.”
“Well, look at you. That college education really paid off.”
“You know, I never thought of having a business career in Squabbin Bay, but I’m really happy doing it. It’s like I have the best of both worlds. I love business and all that’s involved in that, but I also love the quietness of living in a small town. This way, I can have both.”
“I’m proud of you, Jess.”
“Thanks.”
Randi ran off to assist a customer then returned again. “You know I’m happy with my work, but I feel something is missing.”
“You mean Jordan.”
“No.” Randi smiled. “Not that.”
“So you do miss him?”
“I’m afraid so. Please tell me how I can miss a guy I don’t even know.”
“What is it you feel you don’t know about him?”
“Everything. I don’t know who his parents are. I don’t even know where he grew up.” Randi took a cloth and wiped down the counter, removing the dishes and money first. “I wish I didn’t have to work two jobs.”
“Ah, I know what you mean. But apart from my stepmom, who do you know that doesn’t?”
“Well, Pastor Russell doesn’t.”
“Okay, that’s one. Who else?”
“I’ll admit there aren’t many, but wouldn’t it be nice just to work one job?”
“Yeah, but that brings its own distractions, as well. I didn’t work long in the corporate world, but it was long enough to know you can’t trust anyone. Personally, I don’t want to live like that.”
Randi pulled the salt and pepper shakers out from under the counter and started filling them. “I don’t either, and I’m not saying I want to work in the corporate world, but I’d love to have one job support me, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jess took a spoonful of ice cream. “Speaking of one job, look at Jordan. He’s working two, as well. Have you heard from him?”
“No. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”
“You will. I can tell.” Jess stirred her melting ice cream with a spoon then looked straight at Randi. Randi pulled her gaze away from her. “You love him, don’t you?”
“Jessss.” Randi spilled some salt onto the counter.
“Randi, number five is up,” the short-order chef called from the kitchen through the half wall.
“I’m coming.” Randi walked toward the pickup window.
“You and I will have to have a serious talk. How about tonight?”
“Can’t.” Randi passed Jess and brought the order to the table and checked with a few of the other customers before returning to the counter. “Tomorrow night I’m free.”
“I’m not. I have a special meeting with the youth going on the mission trip.” Jess had gotten involved with the youth group since she’d moved back to Squabbin Bay.
Randi hadn’t felt so inclined. Her ministry revolved more around technology, and her contribution was working with kids like Digger to enable them to help the church. “You know, Jordan would have loved to go along on that.”
“Yeah, but you’re right. Parents would have been concerned. Maybe next year.” Jess polished off the last of her ice cream. “That was yummy.”
“Good—you deserved it.”
“Speaking of the youth mission trip, how come you didn’t volunteer?” Jess wiped her mouth with the paper napkin.
“I didn’t have the funds, and I have a couple of clients who have scheduled a Web-page overhaul for that month.”
“Ah. Well, maybe you can do it next year.”
“Maybe.” The thought of her and Jordan being on a mission trip together gave her a sense of joy. He obviously loved missions. The photo op he’d been sent on to the Sudan was for a Christian mission. Dena was going to do the job, but at the last minute she had asked Jordan if he’d take her place. She refocused on Jess’s question. “How about Thursday morning?”
“Done. I’ll meet you at your place after I come in from fishing.”
Randi waved off Jess’s attempt to pay for the banana split and paid for it herself from her tips. Fishing for lobsters wasn’t Jess’s only occupation. She knew her best friend was fishing for answers regarding Jordan.
Randi only wished she had them.
At home, Jordan wiped off the African dust from his cameras and lenses—after a long and warm welcome from Duke, who’d been staying with Jess in his apartment. The purchase he made before moving to Squabbin Bay paid off. Each day he’d gone out with four cameras. One film, two digital SLRs, and another small digital for wide-angle shots if he couldn’t frame a picture with the other three. He prayed that the pictures he’d taken—of civil unrest, matching the turbulent winds that kicked up the desert sands—would cause folks to pray more and give more to the various charities trying to help the Sudanese people
. He knew the trip had been a life-changing experience for him. On the flight home, he’d decided that all profit from the pictures would go to various Christian missions working with these people.
Tomorrow he’d have to take the cameras completely apart and clean them. Tonight he needed to stay awake long enough to adjust back to his time zone. He’d been grateful for the opportunity, but he definitely liked his own country. He sat down at his computer and viewed the myriad of pictures he’d taken, stopping at the one of a militia gun to the head of a Sudanese woman, whom they claimed was a rebel. A knot squeezed tighter in his gut. If he hadn’t been there, the woman would have lost her life. The child at her breast held no meaning to these men. What mattered to them was whether or not she was a rebel, and if so, she would be killed.
Jordan shook off the memory. “Thank You, Lord, that they didn’t shoot her. Lord, continue to protect her and her child.” He had never wanted to be a war correspondent-type photographer. War and crimes of passion were not his kind of picture. Sorrow and hurt were, and he could see the worries for this child and his future flick through the woman’s eyes in a nanosecond.
He stared a bit longer at her brown eyes. Memories of Miranda’s dark eyes flooded in. His mind drifted from one place to another. He closed his eyes and opened them slowly. He was home, safe, and forever changed. “Teach me, Lord, all You would have me learn.”
Glancing at the clock, he lifted the phone and called Miranda. She answered on the second ring. “Hi, Miranda. It’s me, Jordan.”
“Hi, Jordan. When did you get back?”
“An hour ago.” They talked for a few minutes; then he asked the question he’d called for. “Would you be up for a cup of hot cocoa and a stroll down at the point?”
She hesitated. “Sure.”
His confidence soared.
“Let me finish up with this client. I could be ready in thirty minutes.”
“All right. I’ll pick you up in thirty.” Jordan hung up the phone. Miranda was the first person he wanted to share his thoughts with. Is she ready for that kind of relationship, Lord? I don’t want to push her.
He put Duke in the Jeep then drove to her house with a thermos full of hot cocoa and a cooler with some ice water. Hesitating, he rubbed his hands back and forth on the steering wheel then closed his eyes. “Lord, help me to be myself and not mess up.”
Trespassed Hearts Page 6