by Lisa Jordan
Daniel had been laughing and talking with Gran and Chloe, but he’d clammed up as soon as Alec entered the room. He ate the rest of his meal in silence with his shoulders hunched as if trying to appear invisible. She thought the two of them had gotten along—Alec mentioned Daniel had asked him some cooking-related questions recently, but Daniel had been sullen and withdrawn since last night. Maybe he’d picked up on the tension, too.
Sarah appreciated Gran’s and Chloe’s efforts to draw him back into their conversation, but her irritation toward Alec rose every time Daniel glanced at him before responding to his sister or grandmother. She understood the anxiety caused by walking around on eggshells, afraid to upset anyone. Daniel needed to be able to speak up without being concerned about how anyone was going to react.
Toby flicked a piece of red onion from the pasta salad onto the side of his plate. It slid off the edge of the plate onto the white lace tablecloth. Sarah nudged him with her elbow and gave him a slight shake of her head.
Chloe leaned over, bringing her hand to the side of her mouth, and whispered loudly, “That’s okay, Toby, I can’t stand them, either.” She made a face similar to Toby’s and showed him the small pile on her nearly empty plate.
He grinned and shoved a spiral of pasta in his mouth.
Suddenly tired, Sarah stifled a yawn, feeling as energetic as the chicken on her plate. She bit into her ear of corn, now lukewarm from sitting untouched. The delicious food eased the hunger pangs, but it settled like a brick in her stomach.
Sarah had jumped at Gran’s dinner invitation. Anything to put off cooking. The boys had dealt with enough for one day without needing to be subjected to her culinary experiments.
Chloe moved her plate away and leaned forward on the table. “So, Sarah, how’s the outreach program going?”
Sarah pushed away her fatigue and smiled at Chloe. She took in the younger woman’s petite frame, wavy chestnut hair and blue eyes. Eyes like Alec’s. “Going well so far, thanks to your brother. If the teens had to rely on my cooking skills, they’d be doomed.”
“Alec’s always been willing to help others.”
Sarah filed that bit of information away. “Are you still able to help us when we get to the babysitting segment?”
Chloe smiled, reaching for her water glass. “Yes, of course. I’m looking forward to it. Is the church still considering a year-round outreach program? If so, maybe we could set up some sort of babysitting certification program.”
She appreciated Chloe’s enthusiasm and yearned for the permanent program, but she couldn’t afford to get her hopes up. “That’s a great idea, but it may be a little premature. The church board won’t commit until they see how the summer pilot program is going. Then we’ll need to consider moving to a more permanent location. The community center has been great, but if we do a full-time program, we need to find a new place because they’re redoing the wiring in September.”
“What about the church?”
“We’ve considered it, but we’d prefer to have a neutral building in the community so people who don’t attend church won’t feel intimidated by it. One of our core goals is to build those relationships and then draw people into the church.”
“Makes sense. Maybe Alec could help you find something. If anyone knows about properties in town, it’s him.”
Sarah smiled. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Chloe snapped her fingers and pointed at her brother. “Wait a minute...what about your building, Alec?”
“What building?” Alec’s gazed jerked to his sister. Then, as if trying to cover his surprise, he shoved his plate away and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.
Chloe looked at him as though he’d sprouted two heads. “You know...the consignment shop.”
“What about it?” He stood and reached for his plate.
“You could—”
“No.” He spoke in the same authoritative tone Sarah had heard yesterday when she brought the boys back to her apartment. She had no idea what building they were talking about, but apparently it was enough to upset Alec.
“But it’s just—”
Alec’s sharp tone cut her off. “Drop it, Chloe.”
Frowning, she sighed, slouching in her chair. “I’m just saying—”
Deep lines furrowed his forehead. His glare practically bored a hole through his sister. “And I said to drop it.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow at the intense expression on Alec’s face. Maybe she and the boys should try to excuse themselves so the family could work this out privately.
“Gran, talk to him. You know it would be ideal.” Chloe jumped up from the table and started clearing plates. “Boys, would you like to help me in the kitchen? I have it on good authority that Gran has chocolate cake stashed in there somewhere. Let’s take ours out to the garden to eat.”
The boys grabbed their plates and followed Chloe.
As soon as the kitchen door swung shut, Sarah folded her hands on the table, snuck a fleeting look at Alec, then turned to Gran, getting the feeling she’d be much more calm about the situation. “I apologize if I’m intruding in on a family matter, but what’s the deal with this particular building?”
Gran darted a quick glance at Alec, who stood in front of the dining room window with his back to them. She returned her attention to Sarah. “I own a building downtown, a few doors down from Cuppa Josie’s.”
“It’s a consignment shop?”
“Well, sort of. Alec leased the building to use for his late wife’s consignment shop.”
Christy’s Closet.
Pieces began to fall into place.
No wonder Alec was on the verge of a freak-out. The last time she walked in front of that shop, it appeared closed, but a viable business.
“Honestly, it’s not my decision to make anyway.” Sarah reached for her nearly empty glass of water.
“Maybe not.” Gran stood and rested a hand on the back of her chair. “But I’m sure your opinion holds some weight, especially since you’re the one who’s going to be spending the most time there.”
“Gran...” Alec started to speak, but Gran cut him off.
“What?” She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Really, Alec, what harm is there in looking at the building? She might not even want it.”
Alec’s gaze captured Sarah’s and held. His eyes narrowed into angry slits. Sarah fought to keep her expression neutral but refused to look away.
After what seemed an eternity, Alec broke eye contact and turned away. He raked long fingers through his hair and hissed out a sigh. “What if she does?”
* * *
Alec’s fingers stilled on the keys as the final notes echoed through the room. His shoulders sagged from fatigue. Playing usually relaxed him, but not tonight.
Why couldn’t Chloe have left well enough alone? She had no business bringing up the building. And Gran had sided with her. Traitors.
The doorbell rang. Alec stifled a groan. Company was the last thing he wanted. He considered not answering the door. Biting back a sigh, he slid off the bench and padded barefoot through the living room.
A glance through the peephole showed Sarah standing on the other side. He ran a hand over his face. What did she want now?
He opened the door and stood with one hand on the doorknob and the other braced against the doorjamb. “What can I do for you, Ms. Sullivan?”
She slid her fingers through her hair, then gestured toward his open doorway. “May I, uh, come in?”
“I’m really not in the mood for company.”
“How about an apology from a friend?”
“An apology for what?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I feel as if you were ambushed about your wife’s store.”
Okay, so he wasn’t expe
cting that.
Alec hesitated, then stepped back, allowing her to enter. Closing the door, he wavered between inviting her to sit down or keeping her standing in the entryway. Good manners prevailed. He ushered her into the living room.
Sarah remained silent as she wandered around, picking up assorted family photos Chloe had given him, claiming they added warmth to the room. Sarah sat on the leather couch and ran her hand across the wooden coffee table Gran had given him, along with the matching end tables. She glanced at him, then nodded toward his piano. “Your playing was beautiful. You’re very talented.”
“Thanks.”
She firmed her jaw and looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry about what happened at dinner. I wanted to let you know I won’t be badgering you to look at the building. For one, I’m not in a place of authority to make that decision, and two, I don’t want there to be anything weird between us. You’re such a great help with the teens, and I’d hate to lose you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Alec rubbed the nape of his neck. “My family’s been after me for a couple of years to clean it out.”
“I’m sure that must be hard.”
“You have no idea.” He sat next to her and clasped his hands between his knees, fixating his gaze on a random spot on the beige carpet. “I’m not delusional, you know. I know she’s not coming back.”
“Maybe it’s too overwhelming. Maybe you’re uncertain of where to start. Kind of like Emmett’s house.” The calm, soothing yet questioning tone in her voice reminded him of the couple of times he’d visited a counselor after Christy’s death.
“Yes, something like that.” He covered his nose and mouth with his hands and exhaled.
Sarah nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re allowed to ask for help, you know.”
“Everyone has too much on their plates already.”
She reached for a framed photo of his family taken a couple of years ago when his mom had been stateside. “I’m sure they’d make time for you, Alec. We all need someone to lean on.”
“That’s a bit hypocritical coming from you.” He shot her a sideways look.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because of these.” Alec traced the skin under her eyes. “Your plate was full with the program, helping me, which by the way proves I can ask for help, and now you’re caring for two lost kids. You need to learn to say no before you pass on advice to anyone else.”
“Those boys need someone they can trust to care for them.”
“I get that, Sarah. I really do.” Alec rubbed his palms together, choosing his next words carefully—he wasn’t in the mood for another battle. “Ian and Agnes James are licensed emergency foster parents who are amazing with kids of all ages.”
“You’re reminding me of that because you don’t want the boys here.” She jumped to her feet and paced on the other side of his coffee table.
He pushed to his feet. “No, I’m saying it because I’m afraid you’re taking on too much.”
“Thankfully I’m not your problem to worry about.”
His chest seized. He sighed and lowered his voice. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
She hesitated, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out in a single whoosh as if to gain strength for her next words. “Why do you even care?”
“Because.” Alec crossed his arms over his chest. They were straying into territory he wasn’t sure he was ready to explore. She needed to go.
Her quick laugh bounced around the too-quiet room. “Good answer, Mr. Articulate.”
“Because you...challenge me.” He rounded the table to stand in front of her. “My family treats me as if I were one of Gran’s delicate teacups. You show compassion, yet you push me to try new things.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “I believe that’s one of the nicest things you’ve said to me.”
“You caught me at a weak moment.” He smiled to show he was teasing.
“You keep people at arm’s length, Alec, but there’s a part of you that wants to draw them in. You’re afraid, though, and when that battle wages inside you, you lash out and your jerky side emerges.”
“We all have our flaws.” Alec jammed his hands in his pockets and moved to the window. Anything to put distance between them. “Not everyone has your Pollyanna ideals, okay?”
Sarah crossed the room and joined him at the window, placing her hand on his shoulder. Her gentle touch warmed his skin. “I don’t have Pollyanna ideals, but I do believe in giving people a fair chance. I’m asking you to do the same.”
Deep inside he knew she was right. And that was part of the struggle.
Chapter Eight
With the bases loaded, Sarah needed a solid hit to bring her team home so they could win the game. Pulling her sunglasses off her face, she wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and squinted against the sunshine beating down on the field. The air was thick with humidity. Gray clouds clustered overhead. Rain would cool things off a bit. Sarah took a swig from her water bottle, enjoying the refreshing coolness of the icy liquid.
“Sarah, you’re up.” Nate stood at the backstop and nodded toward the field.
She capped her water and set it on the dugout bench. Approaching home plate, her eyes connected with Alec’s as he crouched into the catcher’s position. Knowing he’d be watching tightened the knot in her stomach, but she tried to focus on the field and not on his muscular arms. He’d arrived wearing a red T-shirt advertising his sister’s early learning center and gray shorts.
Even though things had been tense between them the past few days, he continued to show up at the community center to share his cooking skills with the teenagers. When one of them asked him to join their team against the other half of the teens in a friendly game of softball, and he’d said yes, she hadn’t been able to contain her surprise. All he’d said when she asked about it was “maybe it was time to give them a chance.”
Hearing her name being cheered behind her, Sarah donned a batting helmet and took the bat Daniel held out to her. The helmet glued her sweat-soaked hair to her scalp. The scent of grilling hot dogs caused her stomach to roll.
After waking up with a major headache, the last thing she wanted was to play softball, but the boys had been looking forward to playing...and attending the picnic that was to follow.
And now she and Alec played on opposing teams.
Positioning her feet in the dirt, she moved into a batting stance. She wiped her clammy hands on her shorts, then tightened her grip on the aluminum bat. Tuning out the noise, she nodded to the pitcher to let him know she was ready.
One hit. That’s all she needed.
He threw the ball underhand. As it came toward her, Sarah swung and missed. The ball thumped into Alec’s mitt.
“Strike one!”
She shuffled her feet, lifted the bat into position again.
“Come on, Miss Sarah. You can do it!”
Her stomach rolled again. She wasn’t so sure she could do it. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then regained her focus on the pitcher. The only thing she cared about was hitting the ball. Then she could go home and lay on the couch with an ice pack over her eyes to dull the throbbing headache.
The pitcher tossed another underhand ball. She swung and missed.
“Strike two!”
Okay, this was getting ridiculous. She didn’t want to strike out in front of Alec. Her pride was at stake. Sweat rolled down between her shoulder blades. She tapped the bat against home plate the way she’d seen the pros do it. Tightening her grip, she crouched into position with her bat ready to connect with the ball.
The pitcher stepped forward and tossed the ball. As soon as the ball was within range, she swung hard. Aluminum connected with leather, the momentum reverberating up her arm. Stunned,
she stood watching the ball sail across the field. The outfielders ran like jackrabbits to retrieve it.
“Run, Sarah! Go! Go! Go!” Her team screamed behind the backstop.
She snapped out of her daze and dropped her bat. Pumping her arms, she charged for first base. She touched the bag with her toe. A quick glance showed the other team rushing deeper into the outfield, so she continued to second. Hearing cheers and her name called out by her teammates propelled her feet toward third.
Exhilaration pulsed through her. Despite playing softball in high school, she’d never made it past second base.
A stitch pierced her side, and her chest burned. She tagged the bag and slowed until her team’s windmilling arms drew her home.
Alec stood at the home plate with his glove open above his head. She had seconds to master this home run. A scurry of activity out of the corner of her eye warned her to head back to third, but she was so close.
Barreling toward home, she pushed herself to move faster. Her teammates touched home base, creating dust clouds as they ran. Lungs screaming and sweat dripping into her eyes, Sarah kept her eyes fixed on home plate. The toe of her sneaker tagged the plate as Alec caught the ball and jumped forward to tag her.
Her head came up and knocked into his chin as he reached down to touch her arm with the ball. She tripped over his foot and lost her balance, crashing to the ground with a heavy weight pinning her shoulder to the dirt.
A fiery pain set her nerves and muscles aflame, searing her right arm from shoulder to wrist. Tears blurred her vision. Her splintered breathing caught in her chest. The weight lifted quickly, and she rolled onto her back, cradling her arm to her chest. A whimper slid over her lips.
She cinched her eyes closed to block out the blinding sun. She needed to move—to stand, to get her head off home plate, but every time she tried to sit up, the ground spun and the pain kept her pinned to the dirt. Her stomach rolled. Bile burned her throat.
People called her name, but the only voice she homed in on was Alec’s. He knelt beside her and placed his hands on her cheeks, thumbing dirt off her skin. “Sarah, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”