Change of Heart

by Jennifer Moore

  The corners of Val’s mouth turned down, and her brows rose as she looked at Nathaniel.

  He smiled back and lifted his shoulders.

  “The corn rustled in the fields, the air sometimes smelled like smoke, Grandmother made lemonade.” Lamar gazed at the painting, his mouth slightly open, and suddenly he blinked, pulling back his head. He looked at Val.

  “You did it, Mr. Dunford.” She patted his arm and smiled.

  Nathaniel didn’t know how Lamar could possibly continue to stare at the painting when Val’s dimples were every bit as enchanting as any piece of art he’d ever seen.

  Lamar turned to the plaque next to the painting, reading the name of the piece and a small biography about the artist.

  Nathaniel thought Lamar would balk at the price and want to get on their way, but he stayed, content to study the picture.

  Val stepped closer to Nathaniel, motioning him away with a tip of her head. “I think we should give him some privacy, don’t you?”

  Lamar didn’t even seem to notice them leave.

  Nathaniel watched Val as she studied some of the other works. She’d look at them for a moment, take a step back and allow her gaze to travel over the entire canvas. She never hurried past a painting, or a sculpture, taking the time to appreciate each in turn. He finally broke the silence. “What is the Copeland?”

  A slow smile swept across Val’s face as she glanced toward the other side of the gallery. “Ryan Copeland’s the artist’s name. I always save that one for last. It’s my favorite.” She led him toward the far wall where a large painting hung.

  The picture was nearly six feet across and was of a lighthouse on a point above a small village. Wisps of fog covered the scene, and a beam shone from the top of the lighthouse out toward the sea. The waves were choppy. He could just see a ship in the distance, nearly completely hidden in the darkness.

  The scene was gloomy and forlorn, and the theme nothing unusual. Nathaniel had seen probably a hundred paintings just like this around town. He wondered what Val saw in this one. Others were surely more beautiful and cheerful. When he looked at her face, he was surprised by her expression. Her gaze moved across the canvas, and her eyes shone with a light he couldn’t put into words, but tugged at something deep inside him.

  “Not Forgotten” was the title on the plaque next to the piece, and beneath it, a price tag that left no doubt as to why this painting hadn’t been taken home by a tourist. Even one with a thick wallet.

  Val watched him with her eyes squinted. “What do y’all think?”

  His mind scrambled to think of something to say. “It’s nice. The lighthouse beam will keep the ship from crashing into the rocks. The sailors are lucky the lighthouse workers keep it running, even in the terrible storm.” He felt as though he’d feigned understanding of the piece about as well as he had during his art appreciation classes in school. He’d given a good interpretation, he was certain, although he still couldn’t see what Val loved about it.

  She looked at him through half-lowered lids for a moment.

  He got the impression she could see through his sham of an art critique.

  She pointed at the rocky cliff beneath the lighthouse. “Look at the houses. One has a glowing window, as if someone is still awake and waiting. Probably waiting for one of the sailors. Someone is hoping he comes home safely.” She looked away.

  He had to strain to hear her voice.

  “I guess that’s why this piece is so special to me. We all hope no matter how far we go, or what we do in life, someone is thinking of us. Might be because I’m so far from home, and I go days without hearing from my family.”

  “You’re not forgotten, Val.” He brushed his finger on her arm. “Not by your family, not by anyone who’s met you.”

  She pulled away her arm.

  Odd. He wondered if he had said something wrong.

  “Maybe not yet.”

  She spoke so softly that Nathaniel wondered if he’d even heard her correctly.

  Val looked at her watch and then toward the door. “I need to get going. Please tell Mr. Dunford I hope he enjoyed the art. I don’t want to bother him.” She pulled the bag onto her shoulder and waved at Abby as she hurried out the door.

  Nathaniel stared at the painting. He looked at the glowing window in the little house. That one smudge of yellow paint pulled at his heart. He thought of all the times he’d come home to his house in Boston, only to find the house dark, the children asleep and Clara out, who knows where. He’d known the feeling of being forgotten.

  But then his mind turned to yesterday when he’d returned to the cottage. Val and the children had been delighted to see him. Ruby had run to him. Val had made cookies, and even worn a new outfit. Though he wouldn’t delude himself and believe she’d worn it for him. When she saw him, her face had lit up, and the stress of a long week in court had evaporated.

  Val would leave on the light while his ship sailed home. He rolled his eyes and pushed away the trite thoughts. He felt ridiculous at getting so wrapped up in a piece of art. He rejoined Lamar who left the gallery an hour later, the proud owner of two new paintings, and a few thousand dollars lighter.

  Once he said good bye to his client, he stopped at Julie’s Sweet Shop to buy two lobster-shaped sugar cookies for Ruby and Finn and walked back to his car. He pulled onto Maple Avenue, tempted to drive out to the beach to check on Val, but instead, turned the wheel in the other direction and headed for the cottage.

  His phone rang. When he saw the name of his mother-in-law—Was she still his mother-in-law?—he almost didn’t answer. But he knew Marielle would just continue to call, and he might as well get it over with. “Hello, Cavanaugh speaking.”

  “Nathaniel, how are things going up there? How are my grandchildren?”

  “Ruby and Finn are doing well, and we’re enjoying ourselves.”

  “We wondered if the children could spend a few days with us. Lawrence and I can bring them back when we come up to Lobster Cove this weekend.”

  If Nathaniel hadn’t been at a stop sign, he might have swerved off the road. They were coming to Lobster Cove?

  “Could you bring them down Wednesday? I’m just dying to spend time with my grandbabies.”

  The pout in her voice sounded so much like his late wife’s that his stomach soured. But he knew Ruby and Finn would love to spend a few days with their grandparents. “I’ll bring them Wednesday. You’ll be coming back up here on Friday or Saturday?” That would give Ruby and Finn two or three nights. The perfect amount of time. Much more and he thought they’d get homesick.

  “Do you have someone to watch them? A nanny you could send?”

  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. No way would he leave Val in the clutches of Marielle Lassiter. Just the thought of how the woman would treat her made Nathaniel want to keep Val as far away from his mother-in-law as possible. His kids were a different story. Their grandmother would treat them well—dote on them—for short spells at a time. She’d want to bring them downstairs to show them off to her bridge club or Lawrence’s golf buddies and then send them back to play with the nanny. She would spoil them for a few days, and they’d be on their way. They were her grandchildren, after all, and she should have them visit. The Boston Agency he’d used before will have a competent caregiver.

  “I’ll find someone.”

  “Perfect. We’ll see you Wednesday.”

  Chapter Seven

  Val was so lonely she thought she’d cry. She’d never in her life spent so much time by herself. Two days ago, Nathaniel had taken Ruby and Finn to Boston. They were due back tomorrow, but the time had crawled by.

  She’d been to the beach and a few galleries in Bar Harbor, rented some movies, and read a few books. Mrs. Spencer had come out to clean the house, and Val followed her around like a puppy. The silence in Couthy Cottage was so heavy she thought she could take a bite out of it. She’d definitely been alone too long and decided to stop feeling sorry for herself. S
he’d do what all southern women did.

  Val headed into town, to the grocery mart, in search of comfort food. She perused the aisles, looking for anything that reminded her of home. Finally, she made her purchases, and then returned to the cottage with bags full of groceries to start cooking.

  She found a country station on the radio in the kitchen and turned it up, chasing away the silence with the sweet tones of George Strait. She mixed cornbread, mashed potatoes, made coleslaw, boiled macaroni, and while she was waiting for the oil to heat, started breading the steaks. A blop of egg dripped onto her foot.

  Val cursed and hopped to the sink, turning on the faucet with her forearms since her hands were covered in the thick breading mixture, and stuck her foot—flip-flop and all—under the water. She stretched her arm toward the dishtowel, wishing she’d grabbed it before putting her foot in the sink. She glanced up and saw the towel Nathaniel extended toward her.

  A smile pulled at one side of his mouth.

  Heat flooded Val’s face. “Mr. Cavanaugh, you’re not supposed to be home until tomorrow.” She turned off the water and dried off her foot as gracefully as she could under the circumstances.

  “Most of the office took tomorrow off, and I didn’t particularly care to spend the day with my…children’s grandparents. Sorry if I interrupted.” He gestured toward the food preparation. “Are you expecting someone?”

  Val returned to the stove, placing the steaks in the hot oil and then washing the floury paste off her fingers. “You shouldn’t apologize for coming to your own house. And no. I’m not expecting anyone.”

  “You have enough food here to feed a small country. Are you telling me you made all of this for yourself?” He lowered his head and moved his gaze from her to the enormous mess in his beautiful kitchen.

  “Unless y’all care to join me.”

  The other side of his mouth lifted. “I’d love to.”

  “Then go change out of those nice clothes. I should have all this ready in about twenty minutes.” Val turned down the music and hurried to put the dirty bowls and dishes into the sink.

  Moments later, he returned wearing jeans and a button-down shirt and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “Anything I can do to help?”

  Val wished he wouldn’t watch her with such an intense gaze. She bent over to pull the cornbread out of the oven and felt her skin heat again. Is his shirt the exact blue of his eyes? “No. Just sit on down. I’ll be right over. Why didn’t I wear my new skirt today?

  Nathaniel carried some of the dishes to the table. “Dinner smells good. What southern delicacy did you make tonight?”

  She pulled a bottle of the local Lighthouse Lager he liked so much out of the fridge and used it to point to the dish he was holding. “That there’s some possum I scraped off the road.”

  Nathaniel blanched and looked down at the chicken fried steak.

  Val took the plate from him and set it on the table then swatted at his chest. “I’m teasing. I don’t think y’all even have possum up here. I got everything at the grocery store, so don’t ya worry now.”

  He twisted his lips in a smile and shook his head. He pulled off the cap of his beer and took a long drink.

  Val watched as he ate, nervous when he’d try a new dish and relieved at the look on his face when he told her how much he liked everything. The comfort food did exactly what it was intended to, giving her that feeling of well-being that comes from fried food and good company. “I searched for turnip greens, but the Lobster Cove grocery mart doesn’t have the same produce as Winn-Dixie.”

  “I don’t know how you eat like this and stay so small.” He leaned back in his chair and finished his drink, then went to the fridge for another.

  While Val cleared the plates, he tied a dish towel around his waist like an apron and rolled up his sleeves. Clean up took only twenty minutes, and they moved out to the porch. Crickets chirped and the waves crashed on the cliffs. The hour was much later than their usual time on the porch, and the night was fully dark.

  “How was Boston?” Val asked.

  He shrugged and settled back into the chair. “You don’t want to hear about hours of meetings, going over briefs and depositions. Boston was all a whole lot of the same.”

  “I like hearing about your work. And it wasn’t the same. You and the kids visited their grandparents this week.” She crossed her arms. “Are Ruby and Finn having a good time? I miss them like crazy.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure Marielle and Lawrence are spoiling them now, but they’ll be glad to bring the children home tomorrow.”

  “I bet seeing their grandkids is good for them. They must miss their daughter terribly.”

  Nathaniel turned toward her, his face awash in shadow.

  She wished she could see his expression. “Is visiting difficult for you? Spending time with them must remind you of your wife.”

  He let out a breath. “It’s difficult, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

  “I’m sorry your loss still hurts you so badly.”

  He walked to the railing, leaning his forearms against it.

  Val thought she must have said too much. His wounds over his wife’s death ran too deep. Why did she go and make it worse? Her heart ached for the pain he was undoubtedly suffering. The crash of the waves seemed to grow louder as the silence stretched. Val had almost decided the conversation was over when Nathaniel turned to face her. She could only see his silhouette.

  He finished his drink and set the bottle on the railing. “Val, a couple weeks ago when we sat out here you told me something you’d never told anyone. I could blame the darkness, or the fact you’re a good listener, or the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in years besides Seth.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Or else I’ll blame the beer, or maybe you looking at me like I’m some sort of hero, raising my kids alone. I can’t take it anymore.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, here’s the truth.”

  Val sat still. The air was heavy, and she twisted a lock of hair. What was he going to tell her? Every time she heard him speak of his wife, she hated her resentment toward the woman. How could she feel like that about someone who was dead? And a mother besides?

  “Val, my marriage wasn’t great. It wasn’t even good.” He cleared his throat. “The relationship was eight years of hell.” He let out a ragged breath. “Clara and I met in college and got married too young. I was excited for a family. She was excited to have a fancy wedding. At first, we both wanted the same things. At least I thought we did, but as the years passed, we grew apart. Not just grew apart. We fought all the time. And when we weren’t fighting, we avoided each other. We’d go weeks without speaking. My own home became a place I dreaded. If not for Ruby and Finn, I wouldn’t have even suggested we try therapy.”

  “You did your best. Things don’t always—”

  “I didn’t do my best.” He spoke in a loud voice, smacking his hand against the railing and sending the bottle clattering onto the wooden boards. “I wanted out. Clara died the same night I served her with divorce papers. She stormed out of the house without looking back. A few hours later, two highway troopers appeared on my porch. Some hero I am.”

  Val stood and leaned against the balcony next to him. Her throat ached. “Oh, Nathaniel, I am so sorry.”

  He turned toward her, his hand on the railing. “Stop saying that. Everyone has said that to me for the past nine months. If they only knew the truth. I don’t hurt. I don’t feel anything, and that’s even worse. I took my kids’ mother away from them, and I don’t even feel sorry.”

  “But you can’t blame yourself.” Val touched her fingers on his arm. It shook. “You must see that. The accident wasn’t because of you.”

  He grabbed onto her hand. “You don’t even understand. You’re young and innocent, always happy, always helping. You saved your family, you saved Finn. I destroyed mine.” He dropped his head. “I’m a monster.”

  His tight grip was painful. Val reached for his o
ther hand, brushing her fingers down his arm until she clasped it. “If I didn’t have this job, I’d be homeless and broke. You gave me a chance to follow my dream.” She threaded her fingers through his, hoping he could see the truth in her words. That he could feel how much she meant them. “You’re not a monster. You saved me.”

  Nathaniel took a step closer, pulling her toward him. He slid his hand beneath her ear, around the back of her neck and cupped her head, lifting her face until their lips met. His other arm pressed against her back, pushing her against him.

  Val threaded her fingers into his hair, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Her knees were weak and her heart pounded. Nathaniel’s arms were strong, his lips tender, and she thought she might melt through the boards of the deck. He pulled away but she still felt her pulse in her lips. She opened her eyes slowly, savoring the moment and brushed her thumbs along his scratchy jaw line, sighing and leaning her cheek against his chest.

  Nathaniel tensed, his arms dropped, and he stepped from her embrace. “Val, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I was caught up in my emotions. I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.”

  Val’s body went rigid and her throat squeezed until she thought she couldn’t breathe. Tears stung her eyes, and she was grateful for the darkness. She knew she should say something. She should act as if the kiss had been a mistake and she regretted it, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Nathaniel’s kiss had set her blood on fire. In his arms, she’d felt like she belonged, that she’d found her other half, and she’d thought he felt the same.

  But she was wrong. Just like she’d been with Bo Callaway. She gripped the railing. She wasn’t the kind of girl a man like Nathaniel would be interested in. And the rejection stung every bit as badly as when she was in high school. She didn’t trust herself to speak and fought to hold in her sobs as she fled into the house.

  ****

  As they ran the next morning, Nathaniel could feel Seth studying him. His friend could obviously tell something was the matter, but Nathaniel wasn’t revealing anything about the night before. He didn’t understand his own feelings over what had happened between him and Val.