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 someplace else and unable to get his bearings. Spotting Jordan, he immediately acted embarrassed. “Sorry. I guess I fell asleep.”
“And you look like you could use another twelve hours,” she pointed out, as she continued to stare at the bewildered look on his face. This wasn’t embarrassment but something else. The man looked downright disoriented. Her heart went out to him. “When’s the last time you got a solid eight hours, Nick?”
He got to his feet, not bothering to answer. “I should be going.” He grimaced when he saw she was still staring at him. Clearly uncomfortable, he looked away, not meeting her eyes. “See you in the morning,” he mumbled, as he turned to leave.
He was halfway out of the room before Jordan calmly spoke up, “Are you sure there isn’t anything you’d like to talk about, Nick? It might help you sleep to get whatever’s bothering you off your chest.”
Nick stopped. For a few seconds Jordan thought he might open up. But instead, he simply stuck his hands in his pockets. Then, as if coming out of a daze, he shook his head and backed out into the hallway. “Thanks for dinner,” he muttered as he turned to go, almost knocking over a vase full of flowers on the table in the hall.
“Thanks for reading to Hutton,” Jordan said quickly as he retreated into the kitchen and then out the back door as if the house were in flames.
“Oh, Nick,” she whispered. “You seem so troubled, why won’t you talk to me?”
Chapter Five
Hours after she went to bed, Jordan was still playing over the scene between Nick and Hutton in the kitchen before dinner, as well as his reading to her. Restless, in the king-sized bed too roomy for one person, she’d spent the last several hours tossing and turning, unsettled, trying to drop off.
“You’d think after almost two years, I’d be used to sleeping alone by now,” she confessed aloud. Before Scott had gone to Iraq, she had never talked to herself, either. Not once. And now it seemed living out here alone had her acting more like her elderly grandmother, whom she’d witnessed as a child, talking to herself while baking or knitting or doing a hundred other mundane chores. Was she turning into her grandmother before the ripe old age of thirty? Well, that was unacceptable.
“When you’re used to having someone to sleep with at night, it isn’t fair to have to go back to sleeping alone.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Damn it.” A few minutes later, she blurted out, “Just stop feeling sorry for yourself. Geez, you are so pathetic.”
Upset with herself, she didn’t think her restlessness tonight was all about missing Scott. No, the interaction between Nick and Hutton drove home one clear point she couldn’t shake. Scott had died without ever getting to see his daughter in person. Hutton had been five months old when a government car had pulled up in the driveway. Some army major had told her Scott wasn’t coming home. He never even got to hold her. And the realization that Scott would never get the chance to play with his little girl like Nick had done earlier simply broke her heart and had her feeling sorry for herself and that made her miserable. She crawled out of bed. Once again, she dragged the box from its hiding place in the dresser drawer.
She got out Scott’s letters, one after another. She reread each one. Tears streamed down her cheeks. But after the fourth letter, she couldn’t take it anymore. Deciding she needed fresh air, she quickly threw on a pair of jeans and pulled on an old sweater over her pajama top. Grabbing the baby monitor which she routinely left beside the bed at night, she headed for the door.
Under the half light of the moon, Jordan followed the trail down to the cove. Tonight she needed to hear the sounds of the surf. It might make her feel better. It had certainly worked in the past.
Once she reached the beach, she plopped down on a rock nearby and listened as the angry waves smashed up against the rocks. The wind blew straight in off the water. She shivered inside her sweater and realized she should have grabbed a jacket.
She’d been there no more than ten minutes when she spotted a shadowy figure in the distance, slowly making his way toward her in the moonlight along the water’s edge. Alarmed at the sight, she’d almost decided to climb down off the rock and make a run for it when she recognized Nick. At about the same time she saw him, he glanced up and spotted her sitting on the rock. He headed her way. Cautious in his approach, he kept his hands jammed in his pockets. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No. I see you couldn’t either. That’s getting to be quite a habit. Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you, Nick? It helps to talk. Or so I’ve heard.”
He didn’t even look at her. Instead, he focused his eyes on the water, listening to the waves as they crashed over the jutting rocks. “It’s beautiful here. Quiet. Peaceful.”
“Scott loved this place. He moved back here because he thought it was the perfect place to raise his family, the place where he’d been raised. From the time I met him all he talked about was moving back to Pelican Pointe, living here, buying this place, turning it into a B & B. He had this idea we could run it together and make a living at something where he’d be around every day to help raise his family. It was actually a brilliant idea. If only…”
Nick knew. Hadn’t Scott told him a hundred times about his plans? He was tempted right now, this minute to tell her, to simply get it off his chest once and for all how he’d known Scott, tell her how Scott had died. But when he turned to look at her to open up, to unburden his secret, he noticed tears shimmering in her eyes. His heart turned over in his chest. “It’ll be okay, Jordan.”
“I don’t know. Even if I get the business up and running on time, I’ll still need a full house for a couple of months to get enough to make ends meet after I make the first note payment. I’ve calculated the numbers to the penny. It’d be nice to get another extension for a couple of months, to have some breathing room. But I don’t think the loan committee will go for that. You met Frank.”
“Is that what brought you out here tonight, Jordan, worrying about the bank note?” He didn’t think that was it.
She rested her chin on her knees never meeting his eyes. “Sometimes it’s overwhelming. It’ll never be the same, my life.”
“People tend to forget that life is all about change, a constant state of flux.” He knew it was weak, but the only thing he could think to say. He didn’t even recognize his own life. He had no right to try to give her any kind of a pep talk about making adjustments, turning to alternate plans.
She lifted her head. “That’s easy enough to think, to say. It sounds good until it happens to you. Try living every day with life-altering changes.”
If she only knew. “I can only imagine how hard it is. Come on, I’ll walk you back. It’s getting colder. And it’s too late to start another fire.” He took her hand momentarily to help her off the rock. But once she slid off, he continued to keep the link between them holding her hand in his as he led her back up the trail and the steep steps. Keeping his touch light, he guided her up the path as it twisted and turned in the dark.
Once they began walking through the grove of trees close to the house, Jordan asked, “Will you be able to sleep?”
“Probably not. How
about you?”
“I should try. Hutton will be up soon.”
“If I start painting the entryway, will I keep you up?”
“Nick, that’s crazy. It’s three o’clock in the morning. Maybe you should see the doctor, get some pills or something. There’s a clinic in town…”
“No thanks, I don’t need pills.” He already had a year’s worth of pills and still half a dozen prescriptions. They didn’t work—none of them did—so why bother?
As soon as they reached the back door, he reluctantly let go of her hand, missing the contact almost at once. He watched her go and couldn’t help wonder what was happening to him. When she’d disappeared inside, for some reason his thoughts turned to his mother, the only other woman he’d loved enough to miss. He looked up into the night sky, located the brightest star.
When he looked back down, there he was.
Scott stood ten feet away intently watching Nick. “I told you, she’s something, huh buddy?”
“I’m going crazy.”
Scott laughed a belly-gut laugh that reminded Nick of his daughter. “Hutton laughs just like that.”
“I know. It’s music to my ears.”
“You can see Hutton?”
Scott smiled. “She’s everything I wanted.”
“This is nuts. I’m having a conversation with a ghost.”
“You always did have a tough time thinking outside the box.”
Nick shook his head and made his way up the steps to his apartment, wondering with every step if pills would keep the delusions at bay.
Over the next couple of days it was easy for Nick and Jordan to stay busy and out of each other’s way. Jordan spent her days painting the guest rooms, baking bread, perfecting her recipes and taking care of Hutton while Nick struggled with plumbing installations and bathroom flooring. In his spare time, he built the fence to keep out the slew of pesky rabbits, split another cord of wood, rearranged the packed garage into an organized system where he could at least find a drill bit without tearing the place apart. Hard physical labor seemed to keep his mind from wandering into places he had no business going, like his growing attraction to Scott’s wife.
Today though, he had decided to tackle laying the tile, to put the finishing touches on one of the upstairs bathrooms and be done with it. He was taking the last of his measurements, making sure he had enough flooring when he stopped long enough to watch Hutton play a few feet away out in the hallway. She’d discovered one of the empty cardboard boxes containing some of the supplies he’d brought up from the garage and was now happily pounding away on the cardboard with a plastic hammer he had picked up at the hardware store. Wrapped up in her antics, fascinated, he watched in horror as she suddenly lost interest in the box and toddled over to the top of the stairs. At that moment, he noticed the safety gate had been left open and Hutton was headed straight for the stairwell. It happened in an instant. In the blink of an eye, he moved like a shot, his movement so fast he crashed into the wall, catching up to Hutton just before she reached the stairs. Scooping her up from behind, he clutched her to his chest. Nick closed his eyes, and dropped to the floor breathing hard. Shaking, trying to recover from the narrow escape, he told her, “God that was close. You scared ten years out of me, Blondie”
When his nerves settled enough, still holding on to Hutton, he reached over and swung the gate closed, latching it securely in place. “For someone with such short legs you move like a running back. What do you say we keep this little close call just between the two of us. Your mom has enough on her mind without knowing this.”
As soon as Jordan walked out of the bedroom though she saw the look of panic on Nick’s face, saw him clutching Hutton as if he were scared to death, her mother-radar went on red alert. Something was wrong. Dropping down on one knee in front of Nick, she asked, “What happened?”
He blew out a breath. “The gate was left open. She almost made it to the stairwell.”
“Oh, my God.” She leaned in to Hutton, rubbed a hand through her blond baby-fine hair, placed a kiss on the top of her head. “It’s my fault. I had my hands full when I carried up the mirror from the garage for the dresser. I forgot to go back and close it.”
“Scared ten years off me,” Nick muttered as he relinquished Hutton to Jordan.
She grabbed his hand. “Thanks Nick. I’m grateful you caught her before she got to the stairs.”
So was he. God, if she’d fallen… He didn’t even want to think like that.
Chapter Six
The Hilltop Diner was old, something out of a 1950s malt shop. It had a black and white checkered floor, a faux black marble counter with eight padded red stools, all of which had seen their fair share of fannies over the years. A Wurlitzer jukebox stood at the end of the counter where, at the moment, Patsy Cline belted out Walkin’ After Midnight for the smattering of patrons who sat at one of the eight mismatched square tables, or one of the four red-vinyl booths lining the front wall with window views of Main Street.
Without an official city hall, the Diner acted as a substitute meeting place for the town council, especially when, like today, Reverend Whitcomb refused them space alongside the ladies bible study group. Normally, the town council could be found at the Community Church at ten o’clock in the a.m. every third Thursday of the month. But this morning Mayor Patrick Murphy had to settle for the corner booth, the largest booth, presiding over an impromptu meeting to discuss the finishing touches for the annual spring Pelican Pointe Street Fair.
The fair was a three-day event cooked up twenty years earlier to add another source of revenue to the town coffers.
Sandwiched between the Christmas off-season and Memorial weekend, the street fair brought in money without waiting for the start of the summer tourist season which didn’t kick in officially until Memorial weekend. This year, the fair started the third week of March. That gave the town less than three weeks to get everything finalized.
Tapping her ballpoint pen absently on top of her clipboard, Sissy batted her eyes at the men sitting around the table, even if the youngest one was at least fifteen years older and said, “Ricky Oden’s band is the last to sign up so that takes care of the music.” As the only female member of the town council, Sissy used manipulation and a flirtatious nature to try to get her way even if she had to twist the facts to do it, a routine she’d perfected since junior high. While the tactic worked like sugar on some, including her own father, it didn’t always work with this crowd.
She listened impatiently as Kent Springer, the married real estate developer she’d been sleeping with off and on for the better part of three years, went over the list of carnival rides they could expect. “They’ve agreed to set up on Tuesday, the night of the twenty-fourth, and gear most of their rides to the younger kids.”
“But we asked you to check and see when the rides had last been inspected.” Wade Hawkins, a long-time council member and a retired history professor, reminded Kent.
“You can be a real pain in the ass, you know that Wade,” Kent responded.
But Wade wanted an answer from Mr. Slick, as he was known around town, and refused to let it go. “When’s the last time the rides were inspected? That was the question.”
When Kent looked away, Wade persisted, “Are they safe or not?”
“Of course they are,” Kent answered absently. He didn’t really give a shit. He was getting a kickback from the owner of the carnival for every time this particular vendor came to town, which happened seven times a year because he was in charge of the bookings. What did he care when the last time anyone had inspected the damn Ferris wheel?
Eyeing Kent with equal skepticism, Murphy added, “We don’t want the town put in a position over lawsuits about unsafe rides, Kent. It’s just that simple.” Having made his point, Murphy turned to Sissy. “So with Ricky on board that makes five bands providing the music for all three days, correct?”
Sixty-five-year-old Bran Sullivan, the town vet didn’t wait for Sissy’s co
nfirmation. Instead, he proudly pointed out, “Ricky plays a mean bluegrass. Donna says the band’s going professional and cutting a record.” Ricky was married to his daughter, Donna, and as a son-in-law, Bran couldn’t ask for better.
Sissy rolled her eyes. “CD,” she corrected, mildly annoyed at the elderly, outdated mentality of her cohorts on the town council. Every one of them except Kent was well over fifty and he was knocking on the door. If she had anything to say about it, she intended to change that come next election and bring in some younger blood. Sissy had been trying to get rid of these old codgers for years to no avail. But for now, she checked her notes. “We’ll have a total of thirty booths set up. That’s five less than last year. Ten booths for food, the rest will be arts and crafts. The bad news is it looks like we’re down to twenty-five floats this year. And thank the Lord, they are all cars or trucks, with the exception of crazy old Marabelle Crawford and her sister who insist on riding those damn golf carts.”
Once again, Wade took issue. It wasn’t so much about the floats, but rather the fact that Sissy and Kent kept trying to selectively enforce who got to participate in the parade and who didn’t. It irked Wade to know that the two couldn’t be trusted with details or to simply do the right thing where the folks in town were concerned. When it came right down to it, Sissy and Kent always seemed to be trying to pull a fast one. And pretty much everyone in town knew about their long-standing affair, probably even Kent’s wife. It wasn’t so much about the cheating but rather the fact they were both notorious for looking out for themselves. And Wade felt duly bound to keep these two honest if at all possible. “We need to use more horse-drawn floats like we did two years ago, and let the kids decorate their bicycles. Both cut down on the gas fumes polluting the air. We’re a coastal town and as such we should do more to protect the environment.”
Promise Cove (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 1) Page 9