by Nan Dixon
“Oh, yes.” But Mamá’s eyebrows were smashed together.
Carolina’s heart ached. Her mother was losing her memory. Would there come a day when Mamá wouldn’t recognize her?
They made it to Savannah and headed into the historic district, Sage still behind her. She found a parking spot in the almost full lot.
“We’re here.” She threw the car into Park.
Sage carried up the cooler and bags. Carolina put her arm around Mamá to protect her from the buffeting wind.
“This isn’t the B and B.” Mamá frowned, her head twisting around as Carolina unlocked the apartment door.
“Sure it is, Mamá.” She pointed down the steps. “There’s the restaurant you saw me sing in.”
“I did?”
“Yes,” she choked out.
Inside, Mamá shed her dripping coat. “It’s not very nice here.”
Carolina ad-libbed. “This is a family unit.”
“If I owned the B and B, I’d only cater to couples. So much nicer.” Mamá looked around at the furniture. “A child could live here.”
And had.
“How are you feeling?” Carolina asked.
Mamá sighed. “Tired.”
Carolina led her to the bedroom. “Why don’t you put your feet up?”
She closed the door and collapsed against the wood. Every muscle ached.
Sage set her mother’s case in the hall. Quietly he said, “If you give me your keys, I’ll empty your car.”
“Thank—”
He shook his head.
She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead she handed Sage her keys. Then emptied the cooler and food bags.
“Do you want your bags in the second bedroom?” he asked from the kitchen doorway.
“Yes.” She kept herself from adding, “Thanks.” But it was hard.
“The rain is tapering off—for now.” He headed for the steps. “There’s another box I packed.”
What had he packed? She finished in the kitchen, wondering if she needed to get more water and milk, but since she’d shopped yesterday, they should have enough. Besides, her credit card was maxed out. She’d paid off one of her mother’s credit cards last week. Now she wished she’d waited. Who knew when she would have another paycheck?
She flipped on the television, turned down the volume and found the weather channel.
Sage’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. What a difference these last weeks had made. When he’d first walked up the steps after his injury, his steps had been slow and uncertain. Now they were firm and fast. He’d recovered.
She held the door open.
He set a box near the closet. “I found all the flashlights and batteries I could in the garage and house.”
“I didn’t even think about flashlights. Th—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Stop.”
“How can I? You’ve been a godsend.”
“You needed help.” He stroked his thumb on her top lip. Heat ignited the gold flecks in his eyes.
She leaned into him. Couldn’t stop herself. This was comfort. This was love.
“Damn it.” His hand slid around to the nape of her neck. His fingers massaged and dug into her hair. His gaze dipped to her lips.
She held her breath, but couldn’t stop her tongue from sneaking out and licking her upper lip.
“We shouldn’t,” Sage groaned. But he dipped his head and kissed her.
She clutched his shoulders, afraid he would shove her away.
He hummed against her mouth and his tongue slid against hers.
She trembled. It was like she’d been in a desert and he was an oasis of cool water. He tugged her close and it was familiar but different. His muscles were harder. His arms stronger. He cupped her butt and pulled her closer until they touched everywhere.
She didn’t want the kiss to end.
He gasped, setting his forehead on hers. “Damn. I’m sorry. That...that won’t happen again. It was...it won’t happen again.”
“But...”
Ice replaced the heat in his eyes, making her shiver.
“I have to...” He shook his head. “I have to get to work. I told them I’d be in this afternoon.”
He pushed away from her.
“Sage?”
He shook his head and, if the door had been more than a few steps away, he probably would have run.
“Wait.” She had to stand up for herself. She had to take control of her life. “Please don’t kiss me again. I... I deserve better. I deserve respect and you don’t respect me.”
“I’m sorry.” He exhaled. “It won’t happen again.”
She forced her feet to take her to the window. She watched him take the steps two at a time. Couldn’t get away fast enough. He never looked back. Just shook his head like he was yelling at himself.
The kiss had been a mistake. Because it had ripped the bandage off her bleeding heart. She was alone. Only now she yearned for what she couldn’t have.
The story of her life. Yearning for a family. Now Sage.
It would stop. Right now.
She checked on her mother—sleeping. That gave her an hour or two. Then she wrote Mamá a note and went to check in with Abby.
* * *
“HI, ABBY,” CAROLINA SAID, walking into the restaurant.
“Hey.” Abby looked up from the reservation computer. “Are you settled in the carriage house?”
“Yes.” She pulled in a deep breath. “Thank you. I don’t know where we would have ended up.”
Abby shrugged off her thanks.
“Are you staying open tonight?” Carolina asked.
“I was checking the reservations. And the forecast.”
Carolina waited.
“I think it’s safer if I close.” Abby looked out the window. Sure enough, the rain pelted down again. “I’m going to close in an hour or two.”
No income tonight. “What can I do to help?”
“Help?”
“You’re letting my mother and me stay in the carriage house.” Carolina started to touch Abby’s arm, but stopped. She was just an employee. And only for another week. “I can’t...sit around while you prep for the storm.”
“I’d appreciate anything you can do.” Abby’s face relaxed. “Could you help with the patio furniture? Nigel’s storing it.”
Carolina flipped up her hood and headed to the patio. She fought the wind to pull the umbrellas out of the iron tables.
Nigel came by with a rolling cart. “I understand you’re helping. Can you stack the chairs six high on this?”
“Will do.” He pushed another cart through the rain and past the restaurant. When Nigel came back, she helped him load the tables.
Since he was limping, she said, “I can help get this wherever it’s going.”
“Much appreciated.”
She pushed while he guided the cart over the wet, uneven flagstones.
“Any trouble getting your house secured?” he asked.
“Not too bad.” She frowned. “How did you know?”
“Sage called, asking questions.”
“Ah.” Fitzgerald House was a very connected community.
They moved around the day care to a garage door in the carriage house.
“Everything’s going in here.” The door rolled up with a squeal. There were stacks of what looked like wedding supplies.
“What is all this?”
“Bess’s event decorations.”
They unloaded the tables, chairs and umbrellas, and headed back out.
“What’s next?” she asked.
“The courtyard.”
They worked side by side, but Nigel’s movements grew slower. “Why don’t we grab something to drink?” she suggested after unloading a
nother cart.
“Need a rest?” he asked.
She nodded, knowing she could have kept going. “I want to check on my mother. I’ll meet you in the restaurant.”
She opened the apartment door, surprised to find Mamá in front of the television. “Mamá?”
“The storm’s coming. What if Poppy doesn’t make it into the harbor?”
Poppy? “He’ll be fine. He’s an excellent sailor.” Carolina chewed her lip. She couldn’t leave her alone. Mamá was too confused. “Let’s head to the restaurant and get you something to eat.”
Hopefully, Abby would still be serving food. And maybe her mother could stay in the restaurant while Carolina kept working.
She helped Mamá into her raincoat and down the slick steps. Gray clouds boiled in the sky. The gusting wind blew the rain sideways. Palm fronds skidded along the ground. She wrapped an arm around Mamá’s shoulders, protecting her as they staggered along the slick stone paths.
Inside, the restaurant was calm and cool. Nigel held up a cup of coffee and pulled out a chair for Mamá. “You must be Carolina’s mother.”
“Nigel, this is Rosa.” Nigel was Kaden’s grandfather, but she didn’t know his last name. And it didn’t matter. He settled Mamá into a chair and poured her a cup of coffee.
“Cream or sugar?” he asked.
“Both, since I’m dying.”
Carolina inhaled.
Nigel gave Carolina a wink. He patted Mamá’s hand and moved the cream and sugar closer. “Then you deserve both cream and sugar. How ’bout a piece of pie?”
“Oh, yes.” Mamá clapped her hands.
Nigel headed to the kitchen and Carolina followed him. “I’d like to keep working. Could you stay with her for a while?”
“Of course. I could use a little sit-down.” He pulled a key off his ring. “This is for the storage area.”
Apparently, Abby hadn’t sent out a memo that she was a thief and shouldn’t be trusted. Carolina tucked the key in her pocket. “Let me know if she gets agitated.”
“Will do.”
She stopped by Mamá’s table, explained what she was doing, then braced herself and headed out the door.
Stacking the chairs around the fire pit wasn’t hard, but she couldn’t muscle the loaded cart to the storage area by herself. After fighting the cart and wind, she unloaded a third of the chairs.
“What are you doing?” Bess called. The wind tossed the sound around.
“Moving chairs into the storage area,” Carolina yelled back.
“Where’s Nigel?” Bess stopped on the walkway next to her. Her eyes were as hard and unforgiving as the stones under their feet.
“Sitting with my mother in the restaurant. He was really limping.”
“He’s recovering from hip surgery.” Her eyes blinked rain away. “Your mother’s here?”
Carolina nodded, adding with a defensive tone, “Abby invited us.”
Bess gnawed her thumbnail. Then gave a sharp nod. Picking up the stack of chairs Carolina had off-loaded, she said, “Let’s put these away.”
They worked together. It was surprising how few words were needed.
Nigel came out. Carolina hurried over to him, but he held up a hand. “Your mother’s fine. A server is watching over her.”
Carolina smoothed wet strands of hair off her face. A plastic bag slapped her in the back.
After they stored the courtyard chairs and tables, they started on the courtyard flowerpots. Her arms and thighs ached from lifting. The bombardment of rain was so loud, they had to holler.
“Next?” Carolina shouted.
“Porch flowers,” Bess yelled.
Dolley joined them as they wheeled carts to the front of Carleton House. She glared at Carolina, but Carolina was too tired to care.
Liam came next. Then Gray.
“Where’s Daniel?” Bess called as they moved over to the Fitzgerald House porch.
“He and Nathan are securing tarps on one more house,” Gray called. “They’ll be here within the hour.”
With the men helping, it got easier. The guys did the heavy lifting. She and one of the sisters manhandled the carts to the storage area and together they unloaded the massive crockery pots.
With each trip, she glanced into the restaurant, relieved to see Mamá eating or talking.
“What’s next?” Daniel asked Bess, giving her shoulders a massage.
Nathan had also arrived.
“I want to move the orchids into the ballroom,” Bess said.
Everyone but Carolina groaned.
Bess placed her hands on her hips. “The greenhouse might not survive a hurricane.”
“Fine.” Daniel kissed Bess’s cheek. “With all of us hauling plants up the terrace stairs, maybe our thighs won’t burn out.”
The terrace stairs. Oh, wow. Without thinking, she said, “Why don’t we make a human chain?”
Gray patted her back. “I like the way you think.”
In the courtyard, Kaden, Courtney and Sage, their heads lowered into the wind, trudged toward the restaurant. Sage caught sight of Carolina and jerked, his mouth dropping open.
“We’re here to help,” Courtney said.
Sage stared at Carolina.
She straightened her shoulders as much as she could in the storm. Did Sage think she would sit around and watch them work? He really didn’t know her at all—did he?
His loss.
* * *
SAGE CLIMBED THE terrace steps to Carolina and handed her another plant. He’d lost track of how many times he’d climbed up and down the stairs.
Why was Carolina here? It had been obvious she was persona non grata with the Fitzgeralds, yet she was helping them. And the two sisters were treating her with respect. He grimaced. Carolina had accused him of not respecting her.
“Next one.” Dolley nudged his arm and handed him a plant. “Watch out. This one has buds.”
How could she tell through the sheets of rain? Standing water filled the courtyard. The wind pushed and shoved, forcing him to brace his legs.
He sheltered the plant with his body and headed up to Carolina. “Make sure the buds are safe.”
Carolina nodded, exhaustion etching lines on her face.
He didn’t head straight down, but waited for her to finish her leg of the relay. “You should rest. You’re beat.”
“We’re not done.” Carolina wiped her face with her shoulder.
“You’re going to collapse.”
“I’m fine.” She pointed at Dolley. “Next plant.”
“How many orchids does your sister have?” he yelled, taking the pot from Dolley.
“Thousands.”
She had to be exaggerating. But between putting the plants on the carts and then hauling them up the stairs, they’d been at this for almost two hours. Housekeeping staff was setting the plants in the ballroom.
“Second to the last cart,” someone below called.
Yippee. He made the trip back and forth. This was a better workout than running. Hell, it reminded him of running stadium steps when he’d played high school football. Texas football wasn’t for sissies.
He handed another plant to Carolina. She was hanging in there. How did she do it? After all she’d been through—her mother’s cancer, her half sisters’ rejection and evacuating her home—and there she was helping people who’d hurt her.
He’d hurt her, too. Hell, he’d kissed her and told her it was a mistake.
She was right. He didn’t respect her. But he admired her.
He’d accused her of having no honor, but she was showing him how to live honorably.
“Ten more,” Dolley called.
He passed the plant and repeated the message. The countdown to finishing this task chanted up the line.
�
�Last one.” The wind swept Dolley’s voice away. “Head to Fitzgerald House kitchen. Carolina’s mother is already there. Restaurant’s closed.”
“Last one,” he called to Carolina. “We’re heading to the Fitzgerald House kitchen.”
She shook her head. “My mother.”
“She’s there.”
Carolina nodded and stumbled up the stairs.
He waited, worried she would crumple from exhaustion.
“Let’s get inside,” he yelled.
He took her arm, guiding her down the exterior stairs. She’d stopped tugging up her hood about an hour ago. Ropes of curls hung down her back. Water streamed down the yellow slicker she’d brought from Tybee.
“Time to get dry.” He put his arm around her waist and she didn’t push him away.
They stepped out of the storm and into a fantastic-smelling kitchen. They’d done this before, but then they’d been a couple. Now they were people helping each other through tragedy.
Bess waited near the door, pulling towels from a shelf. “Thank you. I appreciate everyone helping get the courtyard and my orchids put away.”
He toweled off his hair, mopping at his wet clothes.
Kaden tossed him sweatpants and a sweatshirt. “Something dry to change into.”
Abby did the same for the women. “Go change.”
“Where’s my mother?” Carolina clenched the clothes, scanning the kitchen.
Abby patted her arm. “She’s in the library with the guests, enjoying the wine tasting.”
Carolina chewed her lip. “How is she?”
“Claiming Fitzgerald House should have been hers.” Abby shrugged. “She’s fine.”
“I’m sorry. It’s the tumors.” Carolina rubbed her forehead. “When she woke this afternoon, she was worried that her father was out in his boat. Poppy’s been dead for years.”
Abby stared at her, then pulled Carolina in for a hug, patting her back. “It’s all right. I understand.”
Sage’s mouth hung open. Abby was comforting Carolina.
His mother’s words came back to him... I can’t deny what your father gave me. Love—and my three sons. I’ve forgiven him. I know that he loved me. Loved us. But he was weak. Human. He was at war. Life-and-death situations. I forgave him.
The words burned in his memory like a brand. Mom had forgiven his father. Abby acted like she’d forgiven Carolina.