Love's Stormy Gale (Heartsong Presents)

by Lynette Sowell

  He silenced her with a gloved finger on her lips. “I did pray for your dad’s health, and for your family, but what I wanted to talk to you about was our relationship. Olivia, you’re beautiful, intelligent, strong—”

  He leaned closer, his mouth moving closer toward hers. She pulled away. “No, please don’t.”

  Frank stepped back. “What is it? Did I move too quickly? I know, I probably shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.”

  “I—” Olivia sighed.

  “It’s all right. I apologize.” A frown clouded his features to match the day. “We should be heading to the restaurant anyway.” Frank turned back for the car.

  They lunched at an elegant inn farther inland, leaving the smell of the sea behind them. The potatoes and clams in Olivia’s chowder looked delicious but seemed tasteless. Then her stomach ached while she and Frank poked through an antique store on the way home.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Although his mood remained somber, he touched her elbow in concern.

  “My stomach is acting up.” Olivia felt queasy.

  “We can go now if you’d like.” Frank held up an old picture of a mother and child. “Isn’t this a great picture?”

  Olivia’s jumbly stomach stilled itself for a moment. “It’s beautiful.” The gilded frame held a reproduction of a Mary Cassatt painting of a young mother, who looked very much like Maggie, holding a small child and bathing her little feet.

  Olivia looked at the price. “This is impractical, but Maggie would love it.” She bought the picture before she changed her mind. “Now I’m ready to go if you are.”

  They headed along the shoreline road, Olivia keeping silent for most of the trip. No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she couldn’t replace her affection for Jonathan. It wasn’t fair to Frank either.

  “Frank…” She wanted to find the right words. “I don’t know how to say this.”

  He didn’t take his focus from the road. “Take your time.”

  “I’m sorry, but…” She inhaled sharply. “I can’t see you anymore. I mean, we shouldn’t go out. I wasn’t trying to lead you on.”

  Frank nodded slowly. “I was wondering if this might happen.”

  “There’s someone else—”

  “Jonathan Barrotta.”

  “I was trying hard to forget him. And you’re a wonderful, kindhearted man.” She felt as if she were rubbing salt in Frank’s wound.

  A muscle worked in Frank’s jaw.

  “I know there’s a special someone for you, Frank. I don’t know what the Lord has in store for me, but I can’t…I can’t forget about Jonathan. I’m sorry.” Olivia sighed.

  “We’re still friends, though, right?” His warm gaze met hers.

  “Yes, we are.”

  “I’ll be all right. This is my fault, trying to make more of what should only be a friendship.” Frank downshifted as they headed into downtown Fairport. The dwindling sunlight broke through a few clouds.

  Please, Lord, show me the light in this bleak situation. I feel terrible about hurting Frank. Forgive me. And I can’t just run back to Jonathan. Not if I can’t get over this fear.

  *

  Jonathan knocked on the Sheas’ front door. When Jonathan had explained about Isadore over the phone, Sam asked him to come right away.

  Belinda Shea opened the door. “Hello, again, Jonathan.” Her designer pantsuit looked out of place covered with an apron. Jonathan followed her to the living room, where Sam sat in his recliner, breathing into a little plastic piece that attached to a box by some plastic tubing.

  Sam lifted the mouthpiece from his lips. “Jon, sit down and we’ll talk in a few.” He replaced the mouthpiece and slowly inhaled.

  “Coffee, Jonathan?” Belinda called from the kitchen.

  “Sure.”

  Sam shifted to a more upright position in his chair. “Now, you say Isadore’s come down with the flu and he’s not pulling his pots in?”

  “Yeah. And plus, his boat’s out of commission for a while. He rammed the Isabella. She’s okay, except for her engine.”

  “Okay. Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Sounds like you’re in a bit of a pickle yourself. Do you still have a crew?”

  Jonathan sighed. “I will, once I get the engine either repaired or replaced.”

  Sam nodded and appeared to think for a moment. “And here I am, housebound.”

  “I hope you’ll soon be feeling better.” Jonathan accepted the cup of coffee from Belinda. “Thanks, um, Mrs. Shea.”

  “Call me Belinda. And you’re welcome.” She smiled and sat on the sofa.

  Sam turned off the breathing machine. “Okay. I tell you what, Jon. We can help each other out.”

  “Okay…”

  “I’ve got some rainy day money put away. And I’ve got lobster pots that need hauling in. You see to my lobsters until I can get back to work, or Isadore can work for me, and I’ll make sure you get that engine, son.”

  Jonathan blinked. “Sam, I don’t know what to say.” He hadn’t planned on asking for help, or finding himself responsible for Sam’s lobster pots. And who knew how long he’d have to work for Sam before the man could take his own boat out again? Or if Isadore would agree to help Sam again?

  To his logical mind, it seemed like he’d be wasting his time. Yet Sam needed him, and Jonathan couldn’t refuse the man in his need.

  Chapter 16

  For the past two weeks, Olivia had welcomed the work to keep herself busy, the last rush for data before the whales headed south for the winter.

  Dad regained his strength every day. Belinda had set up a small office in the entryway to conduct her business. Jonathan came around after checking her dad’s lobster pots. Olivia usually managed to find a reason to stay in her room when Jonathan stopped by the house. She would steel her heart from him. Ironic, she realized, as they puttered along in the boat, her avoidance did little to quell her fears for Jonathan.

  “Liv, hold the tiller steady!” Rusty, Olivia’s colleague, bobbed up and down as he aimed the crossbow at the humpback whale floating yards from their steel-bottomed inflatable raft.

  “I’m trying to!” Her throbbing wrists and white-knuckled fingers held the tiller on the outboard motor.

  Rusty gritted his teeth. “If I don’t get these tags implanted today, I won’t have a chance until spring. This is the last pod of whales in the area.” The tiny harpoon tipped with a small electronic tag zipped from the bow and landed firmly in the outer part of the whale’s thick skin.

  Olivia bit her lip. “You’re sure that doesn’t hurt her?”

  “She’s fine. Not much more than a pinch.” Rusty fitted another dart with a device intended to snatch a sample of the whale’s tissue.

  “Ooh. Spotter, I’m sorry.” Olivia held her breath as Rusty used the harpoon to grab a sample from the whale’s skin. The transmitter linked to a satellite would tell them where the whales went; hopefully the specimens Olivia gathered would tell them more about the mysterious life of the whales, too.

  She let Rusty take the tiller and moved to put the scrapings into glass vials. “You’re sure this is no worse than sloughing off skin cells?”

  “Don’t worry, Spotter will forgive you.”

  They puttered back to the main boat, anchored in the waters of Stellwagen Bank.

  After they docked at the institute, Olivia gathered some data files and printouts, left the plankton with a lab tech and headed home.

  Frances O’Leary’s meat loaf pan clanked against a coffee mug on the floor of the car. Olivia had meant to return the pan to Frances over a week ago, but instead it ended up traveling around town with her. She should stop at Frances’s gift shop on the way home.

  She pulled up behind Frances’s Buick, which was parked in front of the downtown store. “Here we go.” The sign on the front of the store had been turned to closed, but Olivia saw Frances cross the showroom floor to unlock the glass door.

  “Olivia, how are you?” Frances wore a guarded e
xpression as she let Olivia inside the store. Her gaze darted from Olivia’s face to the metal loaf pan, then to the floor.

  “Busy, but fine otherwise. Here’s your pan. I’ve been meaning to return it.” Olivia regarded the older woman for a moment. “Frances, would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me?”

  “No.” The word shot from Frances’s mouth like a dart. “I mean, not tonight.” She sighed deeply, as if expelling a life’s worth of heaviness.

  “Are you all right? How can I help?” Olivia asked. Part of her wanted to flee the tirade to come. Another part glimpsed loneliness in the woman’s eyes. And tears.

  “I owe you an apology.” Frances inhaled. Tears streamed from her carefully made-up eyes. “There’s so much I could say, but I’ve said so much in the past I don’t think I could make up for the pain I caused you.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Olivia began.

  “Yes, I do. For years and years, I’ve prided myself on being a Christian woman. A pillar of the church. No matter what came my way, I’d emerge with my head held high. And then I lost Robby and blamed you. I talked about you almost every chance I had. When you left, I was glad. I hoped you’d never come back. That way you couldn’t remind me of my pain.

  “Then you came home this past summer, and I felt like I’d lost my son all over again. But—” Frances drew yet another ragged breath “—it’s not your fault, Liv. I tried so hard to hold Robby tight and make sure he was okay that he slipped through my fingers anyway. The Bible study I attend has been learning what real trust in God means. And I see I haven’t. Not really ever.”

  Olivia laid a hand on Frances’s arm. “I forgive you. I won’t hold the past against you.” Now she was crying, too. “I know you’re lonely, and I’m sorry, too. I should have tried to love you after we lost Robby, and I pulled away.”

  “We both did.”

  “Please, we should get together for coffee one night. Life has been rather interesting lately.”

  Frances smiled, and Olivia noticed its loveliness. “I think I’d like that. Oh, one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t let your fear keep you from missing out on a blessing.” Frances gave Olivia a quick hug. “We can’t control many things in our lives, but we know someone who does.”

  Olivia nodded. “Thanks.”

  “I mean it. Think about it.”

  *

  “Stay for supper, Jon.” Belinda placed another plate on the table without waiting for Jonathan’s answer.

  “Well, since you’re twisting my arm, sure.” His stomach rumbled at the smell of stew. And Olivia’s mother had made enough for a small army, judging by the size of the stockpot on the stove.

  Sounds from the front of the house told Jonathan that Olivia had arrived home from the lab. He braced himself for her reaction to his presence. For two weeks he’d been hauling in Sam’s lobsters, with an occasional hand from a fellow lobsterman. Either Olivia made herself scarce when he visited Sam, or she would be gone. Jonathan reminded himself to be patient.

  Frank Pappalardo didn’t sit with Olivia in church anymore, a fact that hadn’t escaped Jonathan. Yet she still showed no inclination to be anything more than friends with Jonathan.

  “Hi, I’m home.” Olivia stopped short of the dining room. “Jonathan, hi.” He saw her note the number of plates on the table.

  “Supper’s ready. You two dish up your stew, and I’ll get your dad’s bowl.” Belinda moved through the tiny kitchen with familiarity. Jonathan saw Olivia’s expression turn into a thundercloud. Her mother took a tray to the living room.

  “How are things?” Jonathan gestured toward the living room with his head.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Olivia spooned some stew into a bowl. She lowered her voice and continued. “I go back and forth between wanting to rage at her, and other times I want to know what it’s like to have a mom. The coward’s come home. But then, that’s just what I did.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “For Dad’s sake, I go with the flow.”

  He rested a hand on her shoulder. “You look tired.”

  “I am.” A line formed between her brows. “Rusty told me to take some time off, to work on my thesis. The pods are leaving for the winter, so all I have to do is study data and write until spring. Plus, be available if a school wants to schedule a presentation.”

  “So, you’ll be home, then?”

  “That’s the idea. I can be near Dad. He still thinks he’s Superman.” They moved to the table; Belinda, Jonathan supposed, had decided to remain in the living room with her husband.

  “Yeah, he’s pretty super to lug those pots in by himself. One false move, and he could be over the side with one of those heavy wire pots taking him to the bottom. And I thought I had a hard job!” Jonathan’s arms throbbed from pulling in the lobster pots. He needed to pick up some liniment on the way home.

  Olivia frowned. “Yes, it’s dangerous to work a lobster boat alone.” She nibbled some of her stew, then played with the spoon. “That’s why I want to help you.”

  “Help me?” Jonathan crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  “I want to pilot Dad’s boat while you pull in the pots. We can get the job done more quickly and safely than someone going it alone.”

  “Liv, I don’t need your help.”

  “I can’t study all the time, and I can’t rattle around the house all day.” She hissed the words across the table at him. “Besides, I’ve…” She stopped and slumped back in her chair.

  “You’ve what?” Jonathan leaned forward in his chair.

  She swallowed hard. “I’ve missed you. And I’ve been wrong to avoid you.”

  He allowed a smile to spread across his face. “So you have missed me. I was beginning to think I’d come down with a contagious disease.”

  “No.” She shook her head. Olivia met his eyes, a determined expression on her face. “Frances O’Leary taught me not to let unforgiveness eat me away inside.”

  “Yet you want to pilot the boat to get away from your mother.”

  “Yeah, I’m contradicting myself, I know. I’m taking this one step at a time.” Olivia’s eyes were full of hope. Something passed between them, and Jonathan wanted to at least take her hand. She still loved him; that much he knew. If she needed to get out of the house, he couldn’t deny her the chance to be with him.

  “All right. If your dad doesn’t mind, then I’ll come by for you in the morning.” When she looked at him like that, how could he tell her no?

  Chapter 17

  “I’ve got to go to Boston for a few days on business,” Belinda announced on a Friday morning in mid-November. She wore one of her tailored suits, her hair swept back into a sleek knot at the back of her head.

  Good. Olivia gulped down some coffee and prepared some extra for the big thermos. I could use a break from the mothering. I feel like I’m suffocating.

  “Okay.” Olivia nonchalantly clomped along in an old pair of boots to the mudroom closet. Dad probably had some extra work gloves stashed somewhere. She needed to find them soon; Jonathan would arrive at any moment. Her heart sang and she reminded herself she had nothing to be nervous about.

  “I was making sure you’d be around for your father this weekend. I don’t think I’ll be back until Monday night or lunchtime Tuesday.” She shuffled through some papers in her leather case.

  “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.” She waved Belinda away with assurances, and tried not to sigh with relief when her mother’s sedan disappeared down the street.

  Her father was reading the paper when she came into the living room. “Hey, Dad. How’s it going this morning?”

  His gray hair hung limp from a recent shower, but he had a sparkle in his eye she hadn’t seen in months. “I’m doing okay. I’m worn out from the trip up and down stairs, but I’ll get there. Jonathan’s coming by for you?”

  “Yes.” Olivia went for her coffee cup on the kitchen table. “Hopefully we’ll get a good price at
the market.”

  “Hope so. The season’s over at the end of December. Six more weeks before we shut down ’til April.” Sam laid the paper on his lap.

  Olivia nodded. “I think it’s wonderful what you’re doing for Jon. Helping him get that engine he needs.”

  “He’s a good man, Liv. He’s smart, a fast learner. Wish I could talk ’im into going into business with me.” She felt her father’s probing gaze follow her from the living room.

  “He’s got his own boat, Dad.” She had resigned herself to that fact. Worry had caused her to volunteer to help him. Was she making a mistake?

  A firm knock sounded on the door before it opened. Jonathan entered the living room. “Hey, Liv, you ready? G’morning, Sam.” He wore several layers of clothing topped by a wool plaid jacket.

  “Morning, son. Take care of my girl and my boat.”

  Olivia grabbed the thermos, then passed through the living room. “Dad!” Her face had probably bloomed red.

  “Gladly, Sam.” Then Jonathan winked at her.

  *

  Jonathan kept quiet as he steadied himself against the boat’s movement. The Lindy moved parallel to the shoreline, headed toward the buoys marking Sam’s lobster pots. Olivia’s gaze was fixed on the dark gray water, her cheeks spotted red from the cold.

  “I forgot how freezing it is out here.” Her puffs of breath were snatched by the wind.

  “Yeah, we’ll be soaked through by the time we get home, even with these rubber waders.” Jonathan eyed the bulky sweater Olivia wore. The waders bloomed out around her hips. It was all he could do not to take her in his arms and warm her up with a long-ago promised kiss. Yet their summer closeness seemed a distant memory. At least now she wasn’t avoiding him.

  “Here’s one, right?” Olivia downshifted the boat into an idle.

  “That’s it.” He studied the numbers on the marker. “You remember well.”

  She grinned for the first time that morning. “Dad would bring me out sometimes when I begged him. He taught me to drive the boat.”