Promise Cove

by Vickie McKeehan

  When the doctor, a six-foot-two broad shouldered man, emerged from one of the rooms, he almost collided with her and the baby knocking them back a step.

  “What’s this?” Dr. Prescott wanted to know. “What’s all the commotion?”

  “I’ve got an emergency. He’s cut his wrist, maybe the artery. It’s bleeding badly.”

  “Bring him back here and let’s take a look.”

  Jordan went back out to the waiting room, grabbed Nick’s uninjured arm and pulled him down the hallway to the exam room. She helped him up on the table. When Dr. Prescott peeled back the towel, fresh blood immediately spurted out. He donned a pair of latex gloves, pushed Nick down on his back before he passed out from blood loss, and began wiping away blood with a sterile cotton pad. He stepped over to the counter, pulled out a suture kit from a drawer, and then filled a syringe. “I’ll give you a local anesthetic that way you won’t feel a thing.” Over his glasses, he asked Jordan, “How’d this happen?”

  “He tried to force a new pane of glass into the frame. It snapped in half and the sharp end sliced right through his wrist.”

  The doctor began to clean the wound. “You’re damn lucky. A millimeter the other way and you could have bled to death.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Now, you sit yourself down there with that baby, Jordan, I’ll have him fixed up good as new.” Then to Nick, as he forced the needle into his hand, he insisted, “If you’re going to work with glass, son, you’ve got to remember, glass don’t flex.”

  Weakly, Nick managed, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  An hour later, while Jordan ran into the pharmacy to get his prescription filled, Nick sat in the passenger seat of the SUV. Hutton slept peacefully in her car seat in the back. The nap they’d both eagerly anticipated earlier was now obviously not gonna happen. When Nick looked over, he saw Murphy strolling up to the driver’s side of the car.

  “Heard about the excitement.”

  “Jesus, word travels fast in this town. Is there anything not on the gossip track?”

  “Let’s face it Nick, you being here has given this town more to talk about than we’ve had in two years. We just don’t know what you’re gonna do next.”

  “Glad to be such valuable entertainment.”

  “Oh, we appreciate it. And Doc wanted me to remind you that, glass don’t flex, son.”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  While waiting for Nick’s prescription, Jordan walked down the aisles carrying a basket, picking up a few items she needed. When she looked up and saw Sissy bearing down on her, she swore under her breath. She wasn’t much in the mood to put up with Sissy’s mouth today.

  “Doing a little shopping, Jordan?”

  “What do you care, Sissy?”

  Still pissed that the call to social services hadn’t sent Jordan packing, Sissy went into plan B just because she could. “You know, Scott told me why he had to marry you.”

  “What? Scott would never say such a thing and especially to you. Why are you so mean and nasty, Sissy? Is it just your nature or didn’t life work out the way you planned?”

  Sissy threw back her hair and tossed a box of condoms in Jordan’s basket. “You better take these, Jordan. You wouldn’t want to trap Nick the same way you did Scott. Face it, the whole town knows Scott had to marry the little tramp from San Francisco. At the time he brought you back here we weren’t even sure that baby belonged to him.”

  “So that’s what you’ve been telling people, isn’t it? Well, I wondered what story you’d conjured up for your own spiteful benefit.”

  Sissy snorted, “Knocked up’s what Scott said, that’s the only way you would’ve ever got a man like Scott to the altar.”

  “Is that so? You wanted Scott in high school, didn’t you, Sissy? Well, get over it.”

  “We went steady. I had his senior ring.”

  “Until he asked for it back. Scott was never serious about you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Oh, yes, Sissy, it is. Because he found out you were a catty, gossipy, hateful bitch, who’d sleep with a crowd. Scott dumped you, Sissy, and never looked back. Need I remind you about the rock concert, October senior year, when you went to San Francisco, got drunk and slept with the entire band. And let’s not forget December of that same year when you slept with the entire basketball team. Oh, yes, Sissy, Scott knew. You didn’t fool him for a minute.” Jordan picked up the box of condoms and hurled them through the air at Sissy’s face. “I think you probably need these much more than I do. Now get out of my way, Sissy. And please, do me a favor. In the future never, ever speak to me again.”

  Back at the cove, Jordan tucked Nick into the bed they’d crawled out of that morning. Sitting on the edge, she poured out two of the pills in her hand and reached for a glass of water. “Dr. Prescott said to take it easy. He didn’t prescribe pain pills to have them sit in the bottle.”

  “Jordan, it’s a simple cut on the hand, not major surgery.”

  “That took fourteen stitches to close, Nick. Now do I have to treat you like I do Hutton when she doesn’t want to do something? Do you want me to hold your nose to get these down your throat?”

  Annoyed with her, he took the pills out of her hand, threw them in his mouth and downed the glass of water. “Satisfied?”

  “About this, I believe I am. Now get some sleep.” She tucked the blanket around him, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Fifteen minutes later the Percocet kicked in and he was down for the count.

  Later when Jordan went in to check on him, she saw him thrashing about in bed, mumbling in his sleep. Moving to him, she saw how pale he was, how wet with perspiration he felt. She went into the bathroom, wet a washcloth and brought it back to the bed. Sitting down beside him, she started wiping his forehead, then his entire face. She touched his cheek with the back of her hand. He bolted upright almost knocking her off the bed.

  “No. No. No. He isn’t dead…he isn’t…”

  “Shhhh. You were dreaming, Nick.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost five. You needed the sleep, baby.” Continuing to mop his brow with the washcloth, she was surprised when he stilled her hand. “Don’t. Don’t be nice to me, Jordan. I don’t deserve it.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You show up and turn this place around. Because of you, we might actually open on time. You’re a good man, Nick.” Trying for a lighter tone, she kissed his mouth, long and hard. “And just remember, I personally know exactly how very good you are.”

  He gave her a weak grin, but fell back on the pillows. “I’m not.”

  “What’s troubling you, Nick? Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s something…I have to deal with on my own.”

  “You don’t, you know, have to deal with it like that. People often think they do, but talking about it helps.”

  “I’ve been to shrinks.”

  “No shrinks here, Nick. It’s just you and me.” She picked up his uninjured hand and kissed the palm. “When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll be right here. I’ll bring you some supper.”

  “No. I’ll get up. I need to get up, Jordan.”

  “Okay. Want me to help you stand up?”

  “I can do it. Thanks.”

  “Big tough guy, aren’t you?” She almost thought she saw him smile. But she left him to manage on his own.

  A few minutes later he walked into the kitchen, wearing jeans and a button-down shirt he’d left open because he couldn’t work the buttons. She had to admit he had more color in his face. He didn’t linger too long in the doorway though because he didn’t look all that steady on his feet. When he passed by where Hutton stood, he bent down and tweaked her little nose. “Hi there, Blondie. How’s my best girl?” Feeling a little nauseated, he dropped into a chair at the table and put his head in his good hand.

  Jordan brought him over a plate already f
illed with roast beef and potatoes. “Can you eat with your left hand or do you need some help?”

  He picked up a napkin. “It smells so good I may lap it up like Quake.”

  Smiling, Jordan offered, “I could spoon feed you like I used to do Hutton before she got to be such a big girl.”

  Hearing her name Hutton toddled over and tried to crawl into Nick’s lap. Because of his wrist, he struggled to get a good hold on her and pick her up one-handed. But Jordan reached down and picked her up, telling her, “Sweetie, Nick has an owie. He hurt his hand. See the bandage? And he’s trying to eat his dinner.”

  “It’s okay, just set her down on my leg and I’ll hold onto her with one hand.” Grinning, he added, “And maybe I’ll let you spoon feed me after all.”

  “What do you say we spoon feed Nick his supper, Hutton? You need to learn how to use a spoon first though, huh?”

  Jordan slipped Hutton into her high chair, freeing up both hands. She set a plate of already cut up meat and potatoes in front of her daughter. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched with amusement as Nick tried to cut his meat one-handed. Instantly taking pity on him, she went over and sat down next to him, took the knife out of his hand. “I have special training in this area, Mr. Harris. And you’ll find I’m very good at what I do.”

  His mouth went dry. He forgot about food. Another kind of craving hit him. He’d never seen anyone slice meat with such seductive style. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

  “Mmm,” was all Jordan said while she continued with the byplay. She cut up each piece of meat, fed him a little at a time, alternating between the meat and potatoes he loved. “You know, Mr. Harris, if you stay here long enough you’ll find The Cove is an all-inclusive B & B. We provide certain services above and beyond what’s expected, you might say an array of goodies. Our amenities are known world-wide, sort of like guests with benefits.”

  He leaned over so only she could hear. “If they’re anything like what I’ve sampled already, I’d say I’ve hit the lottery. But maybe you should limit a few of those services to only me.”

  “Oh, I plan on it, Mr. Harris. You’re on our very special guest list.”

  That night, Nick was restless. Even with the pain pills, she noted that he woke up several times in a cold sweat just as he had earlier that afternoon. It seemed to Jordan that whatever was bothering him was so painful it even affected his subconscious. Lightly, she touched his face.

  He jerked with a start.

  When she saw his eyes pop open, she moaned softly, “That isn’t exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”

  “Jordan.” He drew in a breath, let it slowly escape. “I…I was dreaming.”

  “I know. Let me make it better.” She rose up on one elbow, leaned into him and put her mouth on his lips, drew in his bottom lip, tugged. She placed a hand on his stomach and skimmed her way lower. She took him in her hand. He was already hard.

  He raised one brow. “You want to fool around…now?”

  “I was seriously considering it. But…if you’re in too much pain...”

  He rolled over her with the purpose of ending up on top. Instead, he grabbed at his wrist, groaning at the hurt and immediately rolled off of her.

  “Be careful, you’ll cause your stitches to open up.” Patting his chest, she prodded playfully, “Looks like I’ll have to do all the work.”

  He lips curved despite the intense pain in his wrist. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I know you will,” she reasoned. “But until you’re a hundred percent, I’d say it’s all on me,” she promised, as she skillfully began to work her way down his body.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Despite the energy draining sex, Nick couldn’t get back to sleep. Jordan, however, snoozed peacefully beside him. After lying awake for the better part of forty-five minutes, he couldn’t take it any longer. He decided to get up and take Quake outside to pee. As quietly as he could he slipped out of bed and into his boxers, then managed to get his legs into a pair of sweat pants one-handed. When he got to the foot of the bed, he stopped to scoop up the sleeping Quake from the rug. As he crept out into the hallway he realized a walk outside would do them both good. Even if it was two-thirty in the morning and one of them was still half asleep. The dog looked up at him through bleary eyes as if to say, “What the hell did I ever do to you? I was dreaming about digging up a whole slew of bones.”

  Carrying the dog, he did his best not to make a sound as he opened the back door and stepped out into the crisp night air. The stars twinkled down at him as he made his way out onto the lawn. He hadn’t bothered with shoes and the lawn under his bare feet tickled wet with dew. A chill shivered through him as he sat Quake down to pee and caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

  A shadowy silhouette stood near the end of the house about thirty yards away.

  Great, thought Nick. Scott hadn’t shown up at the cemetery for two days in a row and he picks now to put in an appearance. Nick didn’t figure it was a coincidence that he’d just crawled out of Jordan’s bed, either.

  But Quake let out a growl. As Nick stepped closer and got a better look at the figure he realized it didn’t walk like Scott. And it sure as hell was too big for a damned rabbit. Not a ghost, not a rabbit. Nick knew the minute the shadow of a man spotted him.

  Nick thought he heard Scott’s voice. “It’s not me, you idiot! Go get him!”

  Barefoot, Nick tore off after the guy as he rounded the corner of the house in a dead run. Hot in pursuit, he had no idea what he intended to do if, no when, he caught the guy. All he knew was the man couldn’t be lurking around the house in the middle of the night out of the goodness of his heart. Even though the guy had a good head start, Nick shot down the driveway after him.

  Weeks of physical labor had him in better shape than when he’d arrived. It didn’t take long for him to catch up. Before the guy reached the end of the driveway, at a disadvantage with only one good hand, Nick threw his shoulder into the man just as he got to a Cadillac Seville. The tackle sent the man’s body flying into the vehicle, head first. With a loud thud, Nick heard the guy’s head connect with metal. The impact knocked the guy out cold.

  Nick turned him over and recognized an unconscious Kent Springer.

  With his hands tied behind his back with his own belt, Kent came to sitting upright in one of Jordan’s kitchen chairs. Dizzy, he looked around the room and knew he was in deep shit. Kent watched as two fuzzy women, who when merged together looked a lot like Jordan Phillips wearing a bathrobe, stood at the counter making a pot of coffee. He tried to come out of his fog, but his head hurt as if a couple of jack hammers drilled simultaneously through the rock inside his brain.

  As soon as Nick saw Kent come around though, he glanced over at Jordan. Fear had his throat tightening. What he’d discovered beside the house made him sick to his stomach. Nick turned to face Kent. He needed to make this sorry excuse for a human being understand just how much Jordan meant to him. He leaned over where only Kent could hear. “Are you awake enough to hear me, Springer? Because I want to make absolutely certain you understand what I’m about to say. I found the gas cans you dropped right where you left them. You sorry son of a bitch, you planned on setting the place on fire, didn’t you? Are you aware just how much trouble you’re in?”

  Kent stammered, “I…I…have money. I’ll pay you…and Jordan of course. This is a misunderstanding.”

  “Shove your goddamn money. Why did you do this, Springer? Why?”

  “I…I’ve wanted this land since before Phillips bought it. We can strike a deal you and me.”

  “You piece of shit. I’ve already called the Sheriff.”

  When Jordan wandered over to where he stood over Kent, he immediately stopped talking. Nick automatically reached for her hand, needing the contact. When she leaned in to him, he tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Thanks for the coffee, but I want you to head back to bed. I’ll wait for the cops to show up.�
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  She understood what he was doing. “I’ll leave you two alone…for now. I’ll go throw some clothes on. I want to make sure I’m around to watch them arrest this jerk.”

  Nick nodded. “Then go get dressed. The Sheriff should be here any minute.”

  As soon as she’d disappeared down the hall, Nick turned back to Kent. “Just so you know I’ve been trained by the military. I bet I know fifteen different ways to maim and cripple a man…permanently. If I ever catch you anywhere near The Cove again, if I so much as see you anywhere near Jordan Phillips or her daughter after tonight, I’ll make sure you experience ten of them firsthand. Are we clear?”

  Known throughout the county as a straight talker, a no-nonsense kind of guy who ran a clean department, Sheriff Brent Cody stood talking to the newcomer Nick Harris, watching as his two deputies, one of which was his brother, Ethan, concentrated on taking a few more evidence photos and dusted for fingerprints. They’d found two gas cans and a set of footprints around the side of the house that matched the shoes Kent had on.

  Brent turned to Pete Danson, his other deputy and a twenty year veteran, and instructed, “Get those molds done, will you? We’re taking no chances this time around. And take pictures of his shoes.”

  The minute his brother, Ethan, had arrived on the scene and learned the complaint involved the low-life scum-sucking Kent Springer, he’d called Brent who had driven in from Santa Cruz to oversee Kent’s arrest personally, making sure there were no mistakes and the evidence gathered was by the book. If Brent intended to make the charges stick, his team had to be meticulous. None of them were taking any chances Kent might walk.