Promise Cove

by Vickie McKeehan

  Jordan told him about Lilly, about how she’d invited her and the kids over to the house. When she’d finished she added mischievously, “And giving the townspeople a new reason to dislike me.”

  When she reached to pick up a sack of groceries while still holding Hutton, he stilled her hand in the process. “I’ve got this.”

  Her eyes met his. Their hands touched as they reached for the same sack. For several long seconds they stood at the back of the car with his hand over hers. There was heat here, she realized and she wanted… what? What did she want? When he leaned in ever so slightly to get a better grip on the bag, her hand instinctively dropped away.

  Acting as if nothing had happened, Nick picked up another bag and turned to head into the house. “By the way, you’re going to need a fence around your vegetable garden. Your garden’s under mass attack.”

  “Oh, no. What did they eat?”

  “It’s more like what they didn’t.”

  “Shoot. I’ve tried everything I’ve read on the internet, even black pepper, chili powder, hot sauce, but so far...”

  He shook his head. “A fence is the only way. I found material to build one in that black hole of a garage. I think I can go down about six inches in the ground, build one that will get the job done. How about the fireplaces in this place? I counted four. Do they all work?”

  Jordan followed him into the kitchen. “Sure. Except the one in the living room might need a good cleaning. It’s been used more than the others. I’ve been meaning to take care of that. Why?”

  “I found the woodpile behind the garage. Thought I’d split some wood for a fire.”

  Did he plan to cut firewood or build a fence around her garden the same way he’d painted her living room in the middle of the night? she wondered. “What? In your spare time you’re going to cut wood and put in a fence? Nick, you don’t have to do so much. The truth is I ran out of wood last month, haven’t had a fire since. Tried to cut some myself and almost chopped off a toe. Who would have thought cutting wood could be so hard?”

  “Splitting wood,” he corrected as he sat the diapers on the floor and the sacks on the counter.

  “Huh?” She plopped Hutton down on the floor and started putting away the groceries.

  “Never mind.” He sent her a wide grin. “I think I can handle an ax.”

  With a body like his she had no doubt he could handle just about anything physical. But why was he trying so hard? “I’ll just start lunch while you go play Paul Bunyan then.”

  “Hey, it got cold last night. This close to the coast it gets chilly. The firewood will come in handy.”

  With that, he disappeared through the doorway, leaving her standing there wondering where he got his energy. In fact, it crossed her mind that he acted like a man possessed or with something to prove. She just wasn’t sure what it was.

  Shortly after lunch he was sitting at Jordan’s desk sketching out his plan for a garden fence when he heard a car door slam. Jordan must have heard it too because she rounded the corner quickly hoping to reach the front door before the visitor rang the doorbell. “I just put Hutton down for her afternoon nap. I don’t want anyone ringing the bell and waking her up.”

  “How’s that going to work when guests start showing up?”

  “Good question. I guess I’ll have to work something out once guests become a reality,” she told Nick as she raced for the door just in time to see Frank Martin striding up the front steps. The banker was Scott’s age but was already losing his hair and had a nice comb-over going on.

  Jordan opened the door and stepped outside, a bit breathless, more from nerves than anything else. This man wasn’t exactly a welcome sight. “Frank. How’s it going?”

  “Afternoon Jordan.” Looking around, Frank sighed audibly. “I was afraid of this. Not making much progress, are you?”

  Just as she’d done at the store earlier with Sissy, Jordan’s temper flared in a rare show of irritation. Couldn’t the man see how much better the porch looked? Nick had not only stained and sanded, but he’d also shored up the sagging boards, replaced the rotten wood from the railing, and repainted. Jordan had no intentions of letting his comment slide. “On the contrary, I’m moving right along on schedule.” The door behind her opened and Nick joined them on the porch, stuffing his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “Everything okay out here?”

  Jordan felt like reinforcements had arrived. No longer facing Frank alone, bolstered by Nick’s emergence, she gave Nick a subtle smile. “Everything’s fine. Nick, this is Frank Martin, vice-president in charge of loans at the First Bank of Pelican Pointe. Frank, this is Nick Harris. He’s my…contractor slash carpenter.”

  Nick stuck out his hand and didn’t miss Frank’s hesitation. The man’s entire body grew rigid before he half-heartedly shook Nick’s hand. His reluctance didn’t get past Nick.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Harris, is it?” The man looked as if he wanted to wipe his hands on something after touching Nick’s.

  “Frank stopped by to get a progress report for the loan committee. See how things were shaping up. I believe he thinks we’re going to miss our deadline.” She looked Frank in the eye before adding, “But we aren’t. We’re going to open on time.”

  “I admire your optimism, Jordan, I really do, but as you know, I’ve come to check on your progress. The bank wants its payment on time, no excuses. I’m getting reminders from Mr. Carr on a weekly basis now. You can expect a weekly visit from me until you open.”

  “Message delivered, Frank.”

  “I wish you luck, Jordan, I really do. You know, this isn’t personal, don’t you? I went to school with Scott from first grade to high school. We played on the basketball team together. I knew Scott’s grandparents.” He wrung his hands as if he’d have to remember to wash them at the first opportunity.

  When Jordan said nothing, Frank added, “I just wanted to stop by and see how you and Hutton were getting along. I didn’t know you’d found the money to hire a contractor.”

  “Thanks, Frank. I appreciate all you’ve done. If he were here, Scott would say the same.”

  Frank turned to Nick, before retreating to his car, he thought for a moment before saying, “Next time you’re in town, Mr. Harris, stop by, open an account. We’d love to have the new business.” With that, the banker turned and walked staidly back to his car.

  Not in a million years, Nick thought. He had to wonder if in his former life he’d ever been that much of a cold-hearted prick. He hoped not. But why on earth Scott would have such a high opinion of the people in this town was a mystery to him. Except for Murphy, everyone had been a huge disappointment. What was wrong with the townspeople here anyway?

  “Would you mind, Jordan, if I took a look at those loan papers? See if there might be any other options in case we run into an obstacle.”

  “Sure. But it’s pretty straightforward. I went over the loan papers in detail when Scott… after…” Her sigh caused a slump in her shoulders. “It won’t change anything, Nick.”

  He stifled the urge to reach out and put his arms around those shoulders. “Maybe not, but it won’t hurt to take a look.” He paused, looked around the porch, and felt a wealth of pride at how much better the place looked. “We’ll give the second coat of paint another day to dry. Then we’ll hang that swing you wanted.”

  Later that afternoon Jordan was spreading chocolate frosting over the top of the cake she’d baked while Hutton sat on the floor, digging in the cabinets, pulling out every pot and pan she owned, when the phone rang. Jordan wiped her hands off and moved to pick it up. “The Cove Bed and Breakfast, Jordan speaking. Memorial weekend? Could you hold just a moment while I look? Yes, thank you.” Carrying the cordless phone she moved to the desk in the corner of the kitchen, quickly pulled open the reservations book and leafed through the pages. “The twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh will be fine. And what’s the name? Williams, Dave, Mr. and Mrs. Dave Williams. Ocean View. Okay. Ocean View is $275 a night. Y
es, there’s beach access, meals are included, that’s right.” She went on to take credit card information, glancing up when the back door opened and Nick stepped inside. “Yes, thank you. Thank you very much, Mr. Williams.”

  As he closed the door behind him, Nick immediately saw Jordan doing a happy-dance in the middle of the kitchen. Spotting him, she ran over, grabbed both of his hands in hers and continued to dance this time with him. “I have another reservation for Memorial Weekend. Can you believe it? May is starting to fill up. That’s the third call today.”

  After an exhausting afternoon installing a sink in one of the bathrooms upstairs, he’d dragged himself over for dinner. Tired and hungry, he’d been in a bitch of a black mood. But at the sight of Jordan dancing and obviously happy, the blackness somehow lifted. He stood there without saying a word and just watched the contented look on her face. Her smile lit up the room. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to keep her that way—smiling, glowing—and dancing. As to his question of how women with babies had fun, he pretty much had his answer. Jordan seemed to get such a kick out of the simple things. Despite her dire situation she seemed to have an eternal optimism that came from within, a never-give-up-attitude that seemed inexhaustible.

  When she noticed he hadn’t said a word since coming in, but stood instead staring at her, she stopped dancing and instinctively reached up to slide her hand along his jaw. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just saw you dancing and…” He couldn’t finish. Instead, he stilled the hand touching his face. On impulse, he whirled her around as if they were on the dance floor. “You’re happy.”

  “I am.” When he danced her over to the refrigerator to dig out a beer and let her go, she announced, “Dinner’s almost ready.”

  Making himself at home, he twisted off the cap and turned the bottle up for a long drink. “I’m starving whatever we’re having smells great.”

  All at once, from her position on the floor, Hutton piped up, repeating his words, or tried to. “’mells gate.”

  Having never been around a baby before, Nick slowly turned from the fridge to stare at the child on the floor. Startled to hear Hutton talking, repeating the very thing he’d just uttered, or at least her version, he moved closer. “Did you hear that?” Fascinated, he finished the walk around the counter to get a better look.

  Although Jordan had turned her attention to throwing a salad together, his rapt manner had her studying him, amused at the astonished look on his face. “She’s at that stage where she tries to repeat everything she hears. And what you smell is plain old meatloaf.”

  To test out the theory that she’d repeat what she heard, Nick set his beer down on the counter and picked up an apple from the bowl. Sitting on his heels in front of Hutton, he held out the apple as an enticement. “Say apple, Hutton? Here’s an apple for Hutton.”

  Hutton, finger to her mouth, had a look on her face that clearly said she didn’t perform on demand. But after a lot more urging and much prompting, she finally leaned her little face closer to his and with a shy grin said, “Abble.”

  Jordan wanted to laugh out loud at the look of wonder on Nick’s face. He was clearly impressed with her daughter. The next words out of his mouth proved it. “Did you hear that? She said it. Hutton said apple. Isn’t she awfully young to be talking like that, repeating words like that? She seems exceptionally bright for her age. Maybe you should have her evaluated.”

  Jordan laughed out loud. The man obviously knew nothing about toddlers. “Of course she’s brilliant, but I suppose I could be biased.” Noting he was serious, she added, “according to the books I’ve read, she’s right on schedule with her vocabulary skills.”

  “You have books on the subject?”

  “I do, and I’ve also been reading to her since she was born. Every night before bed is story time.” Intrigued at his interest, she offered, “Maybe you’d like to take a turn after dinner?”

  His eyes went wide. “Read to her? A kid this size? Okay. Sure. You mean like, The Three Bears or something?” It was the only children’s story he could bring to mind.

  “Oh, I think we can do a little better than that, can’t we Hutton?”

  By this time, Hutton had lost all interest in the fruit and turned her attention to banging a pot with a wooden spoon. In an impromptu move, Nick picked up another spoon. In sync with the toddler, he started tapping it on a pot in time with hers. Hutton found his drumming particularly funny and started giggling before she went into a full blown belly laugh.

  Watching her daughter play with Nick, watching them interact, Jordan suddenly got tears in her eyes. To hide her wet face, she went over to the stove and pretended to check on the meatloaf. After a few minutes she got herself more under control, and turned around just in time to hear Hutton let out another belly laugh. She looked at Nick who was now down on all fours playing peek-a-boo with her daughter. For some reason, the playful scene caused her heart to flutter in her chest. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it when no words came out.

  After that, it was all Jordan could do to get through supper.

  In a routine now, Jordan and Nick split the chores. She gave Hutton her bath while Nick cleaned up the supper dishes. But while putting on Hutton’s pajamas, as story time approached, a gnawing sadness engulfed her. This would be the first time a man had read to her daughter and it wouldn’t be her father. It would never be Scott.

  By the time Jordan was done getting Hutton ready for bed, Nick had brought in an armload of firewood and built up a cozy fire in the living room. When all three of them were settled on the sofa, Jordan handed Nick one of Hutton’s favorite books. She watched and listened as Nick read to her daughter about a panda bear living at the zoo. As soon as that was finished, Hutton handed him another. This time the story was about the adventures of a fun-loving red fish swimming in the ocean. The minute he read the last word, Hutton handed him another one, this time he read about a clever monkey swinging from tree to tree in the rain forest. During each story, Nick remained patient as Hutton kept interrupting him with comments in baby babble that were unintelligible to Jordan let alone to Nick. But he didn’t complain about the interruptions any more than he did about Hutton’s wanting one story after another.

  “She likes books, doesn’t she?”

  Getting up from the sofa, Jordan explained affectionately, “She likes to stall. Don’t you, baby girl.” Scooping Hutton up in a bear hug, she told the child, “But it’s time to go to bed now. We need to go find Mr. Bear and get him to bed. He’s sleepy. Say thank you Nick for the stories.” Now, suddenly shy, Hutton ducked her head down on her mother’s shoulder. “Tell Nick, night-night, Hutton.” As Jordan carried Hutton out of the room to bed, over her shoulder she heard Nick say, “Night, Hutton.” And before they got out of the room, Hutton lifted her head, waved a little hand in Nick’s direction, and softly cooed, “bye-bye.”

  The gesture got to Nick. He suddenly got a glimpse of his own mother. And it had been more than twenty five years since he’d experienced such memories. After his mom had died, he remembered how his father had retreated into a shell, leaving his ten-year old son to wonder what he’d done to make him so withdrawn, so moody, and so harsh. He had missed his mother, and when he’d tried to turn to his father for comfort, his father had shut him out. He’d lost the one person in his life that had shown him unconditional love. For the first time, he realized that emotional void might be why his life up to now had been one empty relationship after another. He hadn’t wanted to get attached to anyone for fear of losing them.

  Maybe that realization had him appreciating Jordan. She had a way with Hutton. It didn’t take a genius to see she was a good mother, gentle and loving, much like his own had been. He realized now as he sat there staring into the glowing firelight, thinking about all the times his mother had been there for him, he hadn’t allowed himself those kinds of thoughts in years. Memories from boyhood flickered through his mind as he saw her s
itting next to him on the bed reading him stories just as he’d done with Hutton. Or the times his mother had helped him with his math and spelling while they sat at the kitchen table. He could see her sitting on hard bleachers in the scorching heat rooting for him at summer little league games and how she’d always managed to make it to every school event he participated in. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes. He allowed the images from childhood, the good times, the ones of his mother, to crowd out the more recent pictures of his life, all the ugly parts and all the painful memories that had come after. Soon, his breathing slowed and he fell asleep.

  Jordan found him like that.

  Without waking him, she pulled an afghan from the blanket box and covered him up. She took a seat by the fire. Tucking her legs under her, she got comfortable and stared into the firelight, letting her thoughts drift to another night when Scott had fallen asleep like this after they’d first moved into the house. Their dreams then had been fresh, new, and filled with so much promise and hope for the future. Their future together. Her eyes grew moist. She fought back tears, knowing crying wouldn’t help. Besides, she’d cried her eyes out and knew for a fact it didn’t help and wouldn’t bring Scott back.

  Scott was gone.

  She glanced over at Nick. The man had read to her daughter. Abruptly, she saw him start to shake, right before he jumped and came awake. He sat up so fast his leg hit the coffee table. For a few moments he acted as though he were some place else and unable to get his bearings. Spotting Jordan, he immediately acted embarrassed. “Sorry. I guess I fell asleep.”