Need You Now (Love in Unknown)

by Lunsford, Taylor M.

  "Can I help you?" Micah asked, not knowing what else to say. Why him? Why did the weird stuff have to happen during his shift?

  The bride turned to him, pushing a lock of her short, slightly curly red-brown hair behind her ear. Her hazel eyes appeared distracted and a little haunted. "Yeah, sorry. Um, do you have a restroom I could use to change in? Five hours in this dress is four hours too many."

  Micah leaned over the tall bakery display, taking in the yards of snowy white fabric. He didn't know much about wedding dresses, but this one looked fairly typical. Big poofy skirt made of some sort of frothy net-like material. The strapless top, covered in shiny beads, dipped around breasts not much bigger than the cupcakes in the display beside him. He honestly didn't know how it was staying up. The only thing besides her make-up that said she wasn't headed to a church was the oversized bag slung over one bare shoulder.

  "Yeah. It's just down the hallway. Only door on your right." He gestured to his left. "Although you and your dress might have problems fitting in there at the same time."

  A watery chuckle escaped her lips. Her blue-green eyes sparkled a little, remnants of tears making them a little red. "I'm sure I'll manage. The sooner I escape, the better."

  He watched her walk down the black and white tiled hallway, the only noise breaking the afternoon silence the sound of her skirt rustling and high heels clicking. Part of him really wished someone else would walk in to tell him he wasn't crazy. Unfortunately, his mother had volunteered to sit with Jax after their baseball game that morning. He felt better when she took the afternoons off; she’d recovered from her health scare last year, but the last thing he wanted was for her to have a relapse. Things moved slowly at Carr's Cakes on weekend afternoons. Mornings bustled with life and energy as people stopped in for donuts and kolaches, but afternoons passed by too slowly for him.

  He stepped into the back to check on a batch of cupcakes he’d put in earlier for Jax. His son took any loss pretty hard, but he’d missed a fly ball that lost them the game, which made it that much worse. Hopefully, the cupcakes would brighten his mood.

  When Micah returned to the front, the bride was standing awkwardly between the counter and the door. She'd replaced her dress with jeans and a flowery blouse. She still wore what he guessed were her wedding shoes, white high-heeled numbers that looked like they could poke a man's eye out. The splotches of make-up were gone, but her hair still fell in tousled waves around her face. Bulkier than when she went into the bathroom, it looked like she'd stuffed her dress into a big ball in the bag slung over her shoulder.

  "Hi," she said, her voice soft and nervous.

  He nodded. "New in town?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Of course she was new in town. For some reason, he didn’t want her to leave just yet, so he’d resorted to small talk.

  "Yeah. Just drove in." She shifted uncomfortably. Whoever she was, something left her pretty rattled. Women like her didn't just show up in Unknown, Texas for no good reason.

  He crossed his arms, leaning on the counter. "You got a place to stay?"

  "Oh." A startled look crossed her face. A cute face, he thought. Pretty, but not beautiful. "No, but I'm sure I'll find a hotel once I get my bearings. Thank you for letting me use your restroom."

  Before he could say anything else, she hurried out the door as quickly as she came in. Curious, he started to follow her. He stopped just outside the front door and watched her drop the tote bag in the back seat of a shiny BMW convertible before she continued to walk down the block. He lost sight of her as she crossed to the other side of the town square. He had no clue who the woman was. For all he knew, he'd never see her again. But she’d definitely made his boring Saturday a little more interesting.

  #

  Each step Cady Saunders took stole a large chunk of her feet, but won her back a little bit of her self-respect. Bridal shoes were made for dancing, not walking along the sidewalk of a small town. At least she managed to get out of that awful dress Jeremy's mother bullied her into buying. Jeremy. God, she didn't even want to begin to think about her fiancé —ex-fiancé— right now. She'd driven five hours from Dallas to get away from him and his family. And hers, to be honest.

  She didn't know where she meant to go when she left the church, but Unknown, Texas was as good a place as any. She'd pointed the car south and kept going until she couldn't stand to be in the car— a car her fiancé insisted she buy because it "sent the right message"— anymore. She was done with the rules and the veiled comments telling her how she "should" act given the position she was "lucky" to have. She had to escape from the unsettling turn her life had taken and the sleepy little town appealed to her. It looked so…Mayberry/Stars Hollow-ish. Every red brick storefront on the square stood neatly at attention, cheerful little signs beckoning patrons in. Most of the doors stood open in deference to the May sunshine and customers trickled in and out.

  She made it to the opposite corner of the square from the bakery she'd started at before the screaming of her feet became too much. Why hadn't she thought to pack a change of shoes? When she left the bridal suite, all she’d thought about was grabbing the clothes she wore to the church and getting the hell out of there before they could stop her.

  As she crossed the street, she spotted a bookstore. Unlike most of the shops, the door was shut, but the lights were on and she could see an older man sitting at the counter. Unable to go on, Cady pushed open the door. Near the front of the store her eyes settled on what looked like heaven to her. An overstuffed, flowery armchair. It was a little stained and well-worn, but at that moment she didn't care. She just wanted to get off her feet. She collapsed into the chair, sighing in relief.

  "You gonna buy something?" A gruff voice startled her out of her reverie. She looked over at the man behind the counter. He looked to be in his mid-sixties. He had a shock of snow-white hair on his head. A dark plaid shirt stretched across his barrel chested torso. A wild looking white beard sat even with the collar of his shirt. The sour expression on his face was definitely not meant to welcome a potential customer.

  "I might." Cady knew how to handle grumpy old men. Academia was full of them. The university she worked at was run by men even more crotchety than this one.

  The man glowered at her. "Not right to come in and sit in a man's chair unless you're going to buy something."

  "Well, once my feet stop screaming and crying, I might browse your selection." Cady rubbed her foot, trying to massage away the knife-like stabs of pain. "I left home pretty quickly and I can't go too long without a good book on hand."

  He eyed her suspiciously, coming around to lean against the front of the counter. "You got one of those fancy new e-reader things?"

  "The university I worked for bought one for me to save money on paper, but I still prefer a good old-fashioned book." Cady took in the ambiance of the store. Dark wooden shelves lined every wall and stood in neat rows in the most of the open space of the store. Faded navy carpet showed the familiar paths customers strode in search of a new adventure. It was everything you would expect a small town bookshop to be, but it lacked the welcoming spirit she felt from the rest of the town. But then, so did the owner. "You have a lovely store."

  "Been in the family for over a century." Pride glimmered in his dark blue eyes. "Not that many people bother with books these days."

  Cady raised her eyebrows. "Well, I'm certainly glad I found it when I did. So are my feet."

  "Never understood why women wore those damn fool stilts. A man likes a woman he can look down at, not up." The man made a harrumphing sound, crossing his arms across his broad chest. "Where'd you come from, anyway? Too young to be one of those tourist types. They all come here for small town charm and antique shopping."

  Cady chuckled, dropping back against the chair. "I didn't voluntarily wear these, trust me. I came from…" She paused, trying to decide how much to say. "I came from Dallas. I didn't really plan any sort of destination. I just stopped here."

/>   She couldn't explain it. The second she hopped in her car at the church she went on autopilot. The only thought in her head at that moment had been 'escape.' Get away from these people. From this life. From Jeremy and his mother and their ridiculous expectations. Find someplace where they would never look for her and where she could find herself. Reclaim her independence. Use her sabbatical and figure things out away from everything. She wanted something refreshing and uncomplicated. No more academic politics, no more high expectations. Just a simple life. Unknown seemed to fit the bill.

  "You planning on staying?" The hard expression on the man's face didn't change, but Cady could have sworn he sounded hopeful. For all his bluster, he was probably a lonely man.

  Cady sighed. "I can't go back to Dallas. I haven't really made any decisions yet. I guess I'll just find a hotel for the night and take things a step at a time."

  She stood up and began to wander around the store. The front window sported a few brightly colored flyers for town events. A plain white sign with simple black lettering stood out from the others. Help wanted: Personal Assistant. Housekeeper. Must be willing to clean house, cook, help run a bookstore and Not. Complain. Chatterboxes need not apply. See Finn McBride.

  "Is this yours?" she asked, pointing to the sign. It was hidden just enough that most people wouldn't see it. Was this a real ad?

  He held out his hand. Cady shook it, keeping her grip as firm as his. "Finn McBride."

  "Dr. Cady Saunders."

  Bushy white eyebrows rose in surprise. "Doctor, is it? Not a medical doctor, I hope. We already got a female one of those runnin' around town."

  "No." She shook her head, dark curls falling in her eyes. Sexist old men were familiar. "I have a PhD in children's literature."

  Finn snorted. "Didn't know you could get such a degree. Guess that means you know your way around books."

  "Yeah, I guess you could say that." A smile tugged at her lips as she mentally tried to calculate the amount of time she'd spent in book-filled rooms over the course of her life. With professors for parents, she sometimes thought she'd been born navigating stacks of books.

  "Can you cook? Keep a house tidy?" Finn asked. Cady wondered if he'd been a detective at some point in his life as he fixed her with a penetrating stare, willing answers out of her. She knew better than to let him see any hesitation on her part.

  She crossed her arms, cocking her head to one side. "I never said I was interested in the position."

  "You wouldn't have asked if you weren't," he countered. He eyed her up and down in grudging acceptance. "I assume an educated woman like yourself can still put a decent meal on a table and make sure a house looks presentable. Job's yours if you want it."

  Cady's mother would be furious if she found out her daughter was a glorified housekeeper and cook. The daughter of one of the foremost feminist scholars doing domestic work? Unthinkable. And just what she needed right now. "What's the pay?"

  "Room and board. Fifteen dollars an hour when you work in the store. Thirty percent discount on any book in the store. Take it or leave it."

  At the university, she made a good deal more than that. But part of uncomplicated meant getting rid of "Dr. Saunders" and letting Cady have a chance to do something she might actually enjoy. She needed to spend a while doing the opposite of what everyone told her to do for all of these years. "I'll take it. But on a trial basis," she added. "My situation is a bit…unpredictable at the moment. I'm figuring things out as I go."

  "Understood." Finn nodded, satisfied. "I spent many a day not knowing what I'd be doing the next. You got things? Clothes and such?"

  Cady thought back to the two suitcases in her car. Mostly stuff she'd planned to wear on her honeymoon in Italy. "Yes, although once I get settled, I'll probably ask my friend to send the rest of my clothes and books. My car couldn't hold most of it."

  In truth, she hadn't known that morning she would need more than her two suitcases. Suitcases she packed for the honeymoon she should be getting ready to embark on. Yet it didn't seem odd to her at all that she would rather be in this dingy bookstore than sitting in first class with Jeremy Channing. She'd chalk this up as another sign that she'd made the right decision when she ran down the aisle earlier that day.

  #

  Early Saturday evening, Micah let himself into the old Victorian where he'd grown up, sending up a thankful prayer that it didn't look like a hurricane had blown through. Eighteen months should have been long enough for everyone to settle into a routine, but Jax occasionally wreaked havoc on the house and its contents. Jax. His son. In quiet moments, it still surprised him that he was a single parent, raising his six-year-old son in his hometown. He missed his old life as a New York pastry chef, but he wouldn't trade his son for all the kitchens in New York.

  Barely a minute after the kitchen door closed behind him, Micah set aside the small bakery box he carried and caught an energetic bundle of movement as it barreled through the room at top speed. "Hey, Jax. Did you behave for Grams?"

  The little boy wiggled, his dark hair tickling Micah's chin. "Let me go, Dad." Dark eyes scowled up at him when he wouldn't release his captive. Boney limbs dug into his stomach.

  "Slow down, buddy," Micah laughed. "I'll free you once you say hi and answer my question."

  Civilizing Jaxson took most of Micah's patience and a good deal of his mother, Emma's too. Lena, Jax's mother, had let the boy run wild from what Micah could tell. Now he and Emma were having to undo five years of absentee parenting with a mix of love and Southern strictness. Even a year later, they were still trying to find their way.

  "Hi, Dad," Jax said, huffing in exasperation. "I was good for Grams, I promise. Can I go now? I need to get back to my game."

  Micah gave the boy a tight squeeze before releasing him. His video game. All the boy ever wanted to do - when he wasn't on the baseball field - was play one of those stupid games. It made connecting with the boy difficult for all of them. They'd missed the first five years of the boy's life. Seeing him plugged into a little device with a bright screen made Micah feel like he was still missing out on every day interactions.

  "How are you, sweetheart?" Micah looked up to see his mom coming into the spacious kitchen. The first thing he'd done when he moved back home was insist that she let him update the kitchen. Both of them loved cooking and baking too much for her to argue about keeping things the way they were. The big bay window at the front of the room filled it with airy light, brightening the creamy yellow walls. Pictures of Micah and his sister, Melody, with Micah's best friends, Gage and Caine Maddox, dotted the shelves around the walls of the kitchen. More recent pictures of Micah and Jax had been added alongside photographs from Melody's wedding to Caine last fall.

  Micah bent down to kiss her cheek. "How long did he spend on that Nintendo thing today?"

  "Too long, probably." She shook her head, pushing back a few strands of light grey hair that strayed across her face. "But he had a rough day, so I decided not to fight with him over it. And don't give me that look. I did the same thing when you were his age."

  Micah snorted. "I didn't spend all my time plugged into video games."

  "No you didn't." His mother patted his cheek. "You spent all your time covering yourself and my kitchen in flour, making the most disgusting things I've ever tasted."

  The side of his mouth quirked up a little in a small smile. Those smiles were still few and far between, but they were becoming more frequent than they had been when he first came home. The stress of her illness and the custody battle still weighed on his shoulders. "Only because you and Dad wouldn't let me use the bakery kitchens and Mel wouldn't share her Easy Bake oven."

  His mother sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out her laptop. No doubt she was on the blog "Merna's Matches." When the local newspaper collapsed, the gossip column lived on in blog form. Any news worth knowing in Unknown made its way onto the blog. Emma enjoyed keeping up with people, as long as her family wasn't the main topic Merna foll
owed. Last summer, you couldn't visit the site without seeing a constant stream of speculation about Melody and her relationship with Caine Maddox.

  Merna posted weekly on Unknown's most eligible men and who they were seen with. Now that Caine Maddox, the oldest son of the town's founding family, had been taken off the market by Mel, Merna turned her attention to his brother Gage and, to a lesser extent, Micah. He hated the damn thing and he was sure they had plenty of fodder today.

  While he went through the motions of preparing a simple meal of burgers and homemade potato chips, the bride kept popping into his mind. Living in New York for ten years, he'd grown used to strange people in strange clothes showing up. But in Unknown, Texas, women didn't run around in wedding dresses outside of churches or the country club ballroom. Especially not women from out of town. For the first time since he gained custody of his son, Micah found himself curious about a woman. She’d probably already left town, going back to the poor guy she left at the altar. Still, it was nice to know fatherhood hadn't turned him into a monk.

  He trooped up the narrow back staircase to his childhood bedroom. His son lay sprawled on his stomach, bare feet idly kicking against the Texas Rangers bedspread Micah bought when they first moved in. "Jax, time for dinner, bud."

  "Do I have to?" Jax whined, his eyes never leaving the screen of his handheld game.

  Micah rolled his eyes. Weren't little boys supposed to be bottomless pits? Jax rarely came to the dinner table willingly. "Yes, you have to." He gave his son enough time to close out his game before scooping him up and tossing him over his shoulder.

  "Why do you always make me eat dinner?" Jax asked, giggling a little as he propped his elbows against Micah's back.

  "Because it is part of being a dad, champ. You want to grow up and be the next Jeter, you have to eat three meals every day." Micah carefully made his way down the stairs, keeping a firm grip on the little legs.