Daniel sank into the Adirondack chair across from her, kicking out his long legs. The porch light draped a golden cape over his shoulders. When he’d begged off the game, she’d opted out herself. She’d been looking for the opportunity to get him alone.
“Why aren’t you playing?” she asked.
“Pulled a muscle.” He rotated his shoulder. “There was an accident down on 56 last night.”
“Everyone okay?”
“Concussion and possibly a fractured rib. No one we know. Where’s Mama Jo?”
“Her back was hurting. I gave her ibuprofen and sent her to bed with orders to stay there till morning.” She’d put up a fight because PJ was home from college and Jade was home from Chicago. All my babies, home and doing well, she’d said.
Or so she thought.
“Getting bossy,” Daniel teased.
“Speaking of bossy, how’d your date with Miss DC go?”
His brow furrowed. “She wasn’t bossy.”
“I was referring to your matchmaking mom.” That wasn’t very nice. True, but not nice. “Sorry.”
“Fair enough.”
“And the date? Was she hot?”
He made a face. “She’s very attractive.”
“Intelligent? Witty? A bimbo? Come on, Dawson, give me something.”
“She was very nice.”
“Nice.”
“We had intelligent conversation and things in common. What do you want from me?”
“Men. What’s her name? What did she wear? Where did you go? Did you kiss her good night?”
“Courtney, a black dress, Vidalia, and no.”
“Fine. Be secretive. Tell me how your job’s going. Or is that top secret too?”
“Job’s going fine.” He told her about the most recent debacle with the housing department involving restoration of homes in the historical district. Daniel had a gift with people. He didn’t wear his appeal on his sleeve the way his father did, always talking. But he had a quiet way of working things out. He listened.
“How’s the job hunt going?” he asked when his story wound down.
“All right, I guess.”
“Nothing panning out?”
“Nope.” He’d given her three leads. She’d applied for them all, gotten one interview, but hadn’t heard back. She’d also scoured the Gazette and put out feelers with everyone she knew. She’d overestimated the job opportunities in Chapel Springs.
“Something’ll turn up. It’s only been a week.”
“I thought with tourist season almost here . . .”
“Everyone’s hired their extra help. I had a lead on a job at the hospital. Administrative assistant. Interested?”
“Sure.” It sounded boring, but it probably came with benefits and a decent salary.
“I’ll get the info to you tomorrow.”
She had no office experience, but she was running out of time. Three weeks to find a place to live, and a bigger deadline seven months away. She’d thought she’d have phase one of her plan wrapped up before starting on phase two. Why had she thought it would be so easy? Since when had anything in her life been easy?
She hated to ask Daniel for another favor, but was it her fault he knew so many people?
Pandemonium erupted on the court as Madison missed an easy shot and cried foul against Beckett.
“That was a legal block!” Beckett said.
“Yeah, right!”
“I knew letting them guard each other was a mistake.” Ryan ran his hand through his dark hair.
Dad dribbled the ball. His gray bangs had flopped over his forehead. “All right, you two. Our ball.”
Madison scowled at her fiancé. “Cheater.”
“What did you call me?” He stalked her playfully, then charged.
She dodged, swatted his backside as he missed.
He turned, lightning swift, and swooped her over his broad shoulder as she let out a squeal.
“Great, just great,” Ryan said.
Jade smiled, watching her dad try to call order. He took sports so seriously. That and corn. She pushed the swing into motion, making the chains squeak. “They seem happy.”
“Madison and Beckett? Yeah.”
She’d watched them together all night, had watched Beckett especially, and the way he looked at Madison with forever in his eyes. Some people were just lucky in love, it seemed.
“Their lives are about to change drastically,” Daniel said. “Seems like they’re ready for it, though. They’re good together.”
She couldn’t have asked for a more perfect segue. Phase two, here we go. “Speaking of good together . . .”
He turned toward her. She caught a flicker of something in his blue eyes before it disappeared. She wondered if Daniel had secrets of his own.
“I hate to ask another favor, but—” This one was harder than the last. More personal.
“Go on.” His voice was deeper than she remembered.
“It’s just that you know so many people, what with being the mayor and all. I was going to ask Ryan, but he tends to be, well, too brotherly, and if left up to him I’m afraid I’d never—”
“Spit it out, Jade.”
“I need a man.” She winced. Really, Jade? That’s how you ask?
She curled her fist around the cold metal links. Her face warmed, and she was thankful she wasn’t the one sitting under the pool of light.
His left brow hiked up. The corners of his lips twitched. “Excuse me?”
She lifted her chin. “I’m ready to settle down. I’m going to find a job, a place of my own, and I just—that’s my next step.”
“A man.”
“I’m twenty-three, Daniel. It’s not unheard of.”
He rested his chin on steepled hands, studying her. Those eyes reaching down into her, looking for—what?
She squirmed under the weight of his stare. It was just her guilty conscience. There was no reason for guilt though. She’d tell her dates about the pregnancy early on—she wasn’t trying to trick anyone. Just find a willing partner. It didn’t escape her that it might be challenging to find such a man in her condition, but she pushed the thought away.
She could have a successful marriage built on friendship and rooted in love. She didn’t have to be in love to get married and have a family.
“I’m sure you know some nice single men . . .”
His eyes hooded and he blinked away.
“I’m not looking for a soul mate or anything. Just a nice, responsible man—here, I have a list.” She dug in her jeans pocket.
“A list?”
“Just some basic things. Guidelines to help narrow down the field.”
He took the list, scowling. “Since when do you make lists? And what’s the big rush?”
She shrugged. “Maybe my clock is ticking.” It wasn’t a lie. Her clock was ticking, and when the alarm went off, her baby would be daddyless if she didn’t work fast. That wasn’t happening. She wanted for her child what she’d had: a mother and a father. If anyone could understand that, Daniel would, but she couldn’t tell him about the baby yet.
He read from the list. “Over thirty?”
“Men are slower to grow up. I want someone responsible and mature.”
“I’m only twenty-eight, and I’m the flipping mayor.”
She frowned. “Don’t take it personally. You’re not exactly typical.”
“Good with kids . . . financially secure . . . rooted in Chapel Springs . . .”
“All very reasonable.”
“This reads like a grocery list.”
She snatched the paper away. “If you don’t want to help, just say so.”
The swing went silent as it came to a halt.
“I didn’t say that.” Daniel inhaled. His lungs felt as stiff as iron as they expanded. Great. What could be worse than setting up the girl he loved on blind dates?
And why was she in such a rush to put down roots anyway? Looking for a practical job and a—how did she p
ut it?—a responsible and reliable man. Jade, who lost hours with her guitar. Jade, who lived moment to moment and had been set on finding a way to make a living with her guitar.
“What happened in Chicago? Where’s all this coming from?”
“Nothing. Nowhere.”
“You’ve changed.”
“I’ve been gone a year. Maybe I’ve grown up.” She tucked the list back into her pocket. “Forget it. I’ll ask Ryan.”
What was worse than setting her up on blind dates? Letting someone else do it. “Hang on. You just caught me off guard. A few guys are already coming to mind.” There was Lloyd Webster at the nursing home. Couldn’t get more mature than that.
“Really?”
“Sure.”
Her shoulders fell on a sigh. “Thanks.” The gratefulness in her beautiful green eyes made him want to scale Mount Everest for her. It occurred to him that the job might be easier and less painful than what she’d asked of him.
“You know me well, so mostly think about compatibility. And the list.”
The list. Of course. All the things he wasn’t. Not that it mattered. Wasn’t like he could have her anyway. He’d settled that a long time ago, but that didn’t mean he wanted to watch her fall into someone else’s arms. Help her fall into someone else’s arms.
“So who are they?” she asked.
“What?”
“The men you’re thinking of.”
“Oh.” Probably best not to mention Mr. Webster. “Ah, let me get back with you on that. Need to make sure they’re available.”
“Good point. Just . . . you think we could keep this between us? It’s kind of embarrassing and, you know . . .” She gestured to the court. PJ had joined the game, helping out Madison and her dad. “They’d never let me hear the end of it.”
He couldn’t believe he’d been reduced to the role of Cupid. This was really going to blow.
Or was it? He’d be in control of everyone she dated. The criteria were pretty wide—even if he didn’t fit them. He’d just have to make sure Jade didn’t find exactly what she was looking for.
CHAPTER FOUR
AARON HAD COME INTO JADE’S LIFE THE SUMMER BEFORE HER senior year. He was the new kid in school, his parents moving to the area for his dad’s job. Even before school started, he turned the heads of the local girls, but Jade had hardly noticed him.
Until midway through the first day of school. It was just before lunch, and she paused outside the cafeteria doors. The year before she’d left her usual table with her friends to sit with her boyfriend, who’d broken up with her midsummer. She’d saved her weekends for him too, and though she hadn’t meant to, she’d let her friendships slip away. She’d been one of those girls.
Now her friends were giving her the cold shoulder. Izzy had barely spoken to her in American history, and Tess had walked right past her after third hour.
Jade faced the lunchroom.
“You look lost.”
She didn’t recognize the deep voice, but when she turned, the new student stood at her back. Aaron something. They were right. He was a beautiful boy. He was a head taller than she was, with thick black hair and eyes the color of milk chocolate.
“I’m the new one,” he said. “Shouldn’t I be the one lost?”
She regarded his friendly smile and tried for one of her own, not quite succeeding. “I have lunch next.” She eyed the doorway of the cafeteria.
His head tilted back, knowingly. “Ah, the old lunchroom debacle. Who do you sit with?”
“My friends.” She remembered Izzy’s stilted smile and clipped answer when Jade had asked about her summer. “Except I’m not sure they’re my friends anymore.”
He regarded her with curiosity. “You want them to be?”
She nodded.
“Well. Let’s go sit with them then.”
And just like that, Aaron Roberts entered her life. Somehow he’d eased her back into her friendships with Izzy and Tess, and life became normal again. Better than normal. Because for some reason, Aaron was taken with her.
He looked straight into her eyes when she talked about music and her big-city dreams even though he was more cerebral than creative. He made her laugh with his dry sense of humor.
And then one day in the courtyard after lunch, he’d taken her hand, twining his fingers with hers. She’d met his milk chocolate eyes, her heart in her throat. Then his lips tipped up in a smile. Her breaths grew shallow, and the empty spaces in her heart began filling.
By the time they attended homecoming, they were officially a couple. All the jealous girls said it wouldn’t last. But after the dance he took her home and, not ready to end the night, they sat on the porch swing.
He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. It smelled like him, and Jade took a deep breath, curling into his side. They talked awhile, reviewing the best parts of the night, but suddenly it grew quiet. A cricket chirped from somewhere nearby, joining the rhythmic squeak of the swing.
He hooked a finger under her chin, turning her toward him. His eyes were like coal in the darkened corner of the porch, and she felt his gaze on her like a touch.
“I had a great time tonight,” he said.
“Me too.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I always have a great time with you.”
He made her want to write a thousand songs. Happy, sappy, gushy ones that would make her brother want to gag. Only she wasn’t sure she could put into words what he did to her.
“I love you, Jade.” He’d never looked more solemn, and she only had a moment to wonder how she’d gotten so lucky before he kissed her. She melted into his arms, hoping they could stay this way forever.
In the spring they attended prom together, and a rumble of complaint could still be heard echoing the halls of Chapel Springs High. Girls flirted with Aaron, making Jade feel insecure sometimes. They had words over it more than once, but even she had to admit he did nothing wrong. He seemed to have eyes only for her.
They sailed through the end of their senior year together, and people stopped wondering when they’d break up. Her friends called them the golden couple, but Jade knew Aaron was the golden one. She was just lucky.
Graduation came and went, and Jade decided to take a year off from school, working at the coffee shop, while Aaron studied psychology at nearby Hanover College. They spent their free time watching movies and discussing books and music. Jade brought him to family barbecues, and he fit right in with the McKinleys.
His second and third years of college, they began talking about their future. About getting married after Aaron graduated, about settling in Chapel Springs in the new subdivision down by Boulder Creek.
Jade continued working at the Coachlight and began growing a small clientele of guitar students. She played at the coffee shop on weekend nights and applied herself more to songwriting, testing her compositions on her audience. Her performances began to draw a crowd, and she began saving for her own place.
The call came during one of those performances. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but she was midway through her set, so she let it go. Ten minutes later, Mom and Madison burst into the coffee shop and pulled her boss, Sidney, aside. Jade watched them, dread rising in the pit of her stomach as she played the final chords of the melody.
“Thanks, everyone,” Sidney said into the microphone. “Jade’s going to take a break now.”
She was pulled into the back room, and her mom delivered the news there. Aaron . . . an accident . . . everything they could . . . so sorry.
Jade’s legs crumbled under her. Her brain filled with fog, then denial. She wouldn’t believe it. It wasn’t true. Then they were in the car, and there were screams that seemed to come from far away. They weren’t hers, couldn’t be hers. Sounds like this had never come from her body.
At the hospital she fought to get out of the car, pushing, trampling. She had to see him. It was a mistake. A cruel mistake. How could they do this to her? She pushed past peop
le in street clothes, people in scrubs. Where was he? She needed to see him. He needed her. She shook off Mom’s hands, pushed Madison away.
Someone in a security uniform took her arm and said he’d help her find him. She followed him. They went into an elevator and down a long, sterile hall. At the end Aaron’s parents clung to one another, their faces streaked with shock.
They pulled her into their arms, and that’s when the truth began sinking in. It wasn’t an awful mistake. It was a cruel reality.
But it didn’t feel like reality when she opened her swollen eyes the next day to an Aaron-less earth. It didn’t feel like reality when she crawled from bed to dress for Aaron’s funeral three days later. And it didn’t feel like reality when she smoothed her fingers over his beautiful, waxy face one last time.
Where was God? How could He let this happen? Why had He taken Aaron from her? She fell into a black hole and couldn’t seem to find her way out. Wasn’t even sure she wanted to. But her family kept trying to reach her, wouldn’t let her stay in the comforting embrace of sleep. She fought them until she was too tired to fight.
She needed to keep moving, they said. Keep breathing. She went back to the coffee shop. She moved. She breathed. But she didn’t live.
She went back to church, and at her parents’ insistence counseled with the pastor. His answers all sounded good, but none of it mattered. None of it was real. None of it brought Aaron back or made her happy again.
The fog began to clear, but it had taken her joy with it. She wasn’t a stranger to grief. Her brother had died when she was fourteen. It had sent the whole family into a spiral of sorrow.
But this was even worse. She went through the stages of grief, getting lost somewhere between depression and acceptance. Unable to bear the constant sadness on her mom’s face, she moved in with Madison and started new routines. She learned to fake a smile at work, pretend to listen at church, and act as if nothing had happened. But something had happened, and she knew deep inside that she’d never be the same again.
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