For the Love of Pete

by Sherryl Woods

  “We’ll rescue you,” Ashley promised.

  “I’ll bring Jessie by and the two of you can go sledding,” Melanie suggested, referring to her energetic stepdaughter. “That’ll put some color in your cheeks.”

  “It’s cold out there.”

  “Please,” Melanie commented. “Compared to Boston, this is practically tropical. Besides, you used to love sledding.”

  “When I was eight,” Jo muttered.

  “Okay, if that doesn’t appeal to you, we can all sit here in front of the fire and drink hot chocolate and eat s’mores,” Ashley said, her tone soothing, as if she sensed that Jo was about to come unglued on them. “Or Maggie can bake. The whole house will fill up with all these wonderful scents, just the way it did at home when Mom made us cookies on snowy days.”

  Jo knew they would all be on her doorstep first thing in the morning tomorrow and every day after, unless she put a stop to it right this second. If she ate as many cookies as Maggie was likely to bake, she’d be a blimp by spring.

  “Okay, enough,” she said firmly. “Don’t listen to all my grumbling. You can’t turn your lives upside down for me. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. If my thoughts start getting too dark and dreary, I can always go for a walk.”

  “Of course you can. And there are a few things around this place that need to be taken care of,” Ashley said briskly. “Since I was the last one here, I’ll make a list of the stuff I never got to do. In fact, I’ll make a couple of calls first thing tomorrow and try to line up the right people to come by. You’ll just have to be here when they show up.”

  “I can’t afford to spend a fortune on repairs,” Jo reminded her. “Until Mike needs me for something, I’m on an unpaid leave of absence. My boss was generous in agreeing to keep the job open for me.”

  “Generous, my ass,” Ashley retorted. “You’re the most talented person he has.”

  Jo grinned at her. “Thanks, big sister, but you’re not only biased, you don’t know a thing about landscape design.”

  “But Mike does,” Melanie chimed in. “And he says you’re good. Don’t worry about money, Jo. You’ll have all the work you want while you’re here. You just have to speak up whenever you’re ready.”

  “And in the meantime, don’t worry about the repair bills,” Ashley said. “We’ve pooled money to get this place fixed up. Melanie got the rooms painted and worked on the garden, Maggie made improvements in the kitchen.” She shrugged. “I didn’t do much, since Josh was teaching me to relax, so I’ve chipped in for the work that still needs to be done. All the bills will come to me. You’ll just need to supervise.”

  Jo regarded them with bemusement. “Why waste any more money on this place? You all have your own homes now, and Mom hasn’t been here since Grandmother died except to see you. Why spend a fortune to fix up Rose Cottage?”

  “It’s not a fortune. We’ve all agreed Rose Cottage needs to stay in the family, which means it’s sensible to keep it in good repair,” Ashley said. “And it’s yours for as long as you want it.”

  “Thanks,” Jo said, her voice choked. Until she’d actually gotten here, she hadn’t realized how much she missed her big sisters. Right this second, it didn’t even matter that they were gathered around her in Rose Cottage, the site of her first painful love affair. “You guys are the best.” She sniffed and brushed away a traitorous tear.

  “Don’t start bawling now,” Maggie scolded, handing her a tissue. “Or we’ll have to stick around till you’re finished and we’ll wind up being snowed in. Much as you love us right this second, I doubt you’re up for a slumber party.”

  Jo forced a misty-eyed smile. “True.” The last thing she wanted was to give her sisters too much time to cross-examine her. “Go, while you can. And call me when you get home, so I won’t worry that you’ve skidded off the road and landed in a ditch.”

  Relieved by their acquiescence, she stood in the doorway watching until they were out of sight, then sighed heavily. The ground was almost covered with snow already, and there was no sign that it was stopping. It was a little like a winter wonderland, she admitted as she stared toward the Chesapeake Bay.

  Once, when she’d been starry-eyed and in love, she had thought this would be the place she’d spend the rest of her life. Now it felt more like a beautiful prison.

  At least she could leave it when it got to be too much, she reminded herself. If she managed to plaster a cheery smile on her face each time she saw her sisters, eventually they’d relent and let her go home. Until then, she’d lay low and pretend that she’d never even heard of Pete Catlett, much less loved him enough to let him break her heart.

  Pete’s answering service relayed the message that there were some loose and rotting boards on the porch at Rose Cottage, along with a plea that he get to them first thing in the morning if at all possible. The service hadn’t said who’d called, though his guess was Ashley.

  Damn, he thought, his mind immediately going back seven years to the summer when Rose Cottage had been like a second home to him. Maybe even more like the first real home he’d known. Mrs. Lindsay had had a soothing temperament, especially compared to his mother’s quick flashes of irritation.

  And, of course, there had been Jo with her huge blue eyes, scattering of freckles dusted across a pert nose and a mouth that had tempted him from the first time he’d seen those lush lips curve into a shy smile.

  They had shared so many hopes and dreams that summer. He’d been so sure that in a few years they’d find a way to be together forever. He’d made a lot of promises that he’d had every intention of keeping.

  Then he’d made one stupid, idiotic mistake in the first weeks after Jo had gone back to Boston, and his life had been sent in another direction entirely.

  He’d wanted to blame Kelsey Prescott for getting pregnant, but the one thing he’d vowed to do the moment his father abandoned him and his mom was to be responsible. He’d sworn he would never walk out on a child of his, not even if he wasn’t in love with the child’s mother. He’d find some way to make it work. In his head, if not his heart, he’d accepted that he was every bit as responsible for that baby’s creation as Kelsey was.

  And he’d tried doing the right thing. Lord knows, he’d tried. But Kelsey had felt trapped and angry from the very beginning. She couldn’t seem to let go of her bitterness the way Pete had tried valiantly to do. Nothing Pete had done could make up for the fact that she’d had to give up her dream of moving away to someplace more exciting than the rural area where they’d both grown up.

  For five years, he’d fought a losing battle to keep her and his son, but now she and Davey were living in Richmond and Pete hardly ever saw his boy, except for the occasional weekend or holiday visits or a few bittersweet weeks each summer. In the end, things had turned out exactly the way he’d sworn they wouldn’t, with him separated from his son. Had he been able to see into the future, maybe he would have done things differently. Maybe he and Jo could have found some way to work past the stupid mistake he’d made and the two of them could have been there for his son, giving him the kind of stable family he certainly didn’t have now.

  As it was, Pete had never had the courage to face Jo. He’d known she would never understand how he could claim to love her, then have sex with someone else a few weeks after she’d gone. Hell, he didn’t entirely understand it himself, except that he’d been young and stupid and living in the moment. At twenty, he’d been more attuned to his hormones than his brain. He’d actually tried explaining that to Jo’s grandmother, but even though Cornelia Lindsay hadn’t said a single harsh or accusing word, the disappointment in her eyes had only compounded his sense of shame. He couldn’t bear the prospect of seeing that same disappointment in Jo’s eyes, so he’d stayed silent and let others break her heart with the news.

  Over the last year, he’d seen people coming and going at Rose Cottage. He knew that, one by one, Jo’s sisters had come there, fallen in love and married. All were now li
ving in the area, but he hadn’t caught the first glimpse of Jo.

  Feeling awkward and ill at ease the whole time, he’d even done some work for Ashley and her new husband, Josh Madison, but the subject of Jo had never even come up, eventually convincing him that Ashley didn’t know about the betrayal. As clannish as they were, he’d supposed they all hated him on Jo’s behalf. It had been a relief, in a way, to know that she’d kept silent, though it worried him some that she apparently hadn’t even turned to those closest to her back then. Still, his guilt ran deep.

  Even after that reassuring encounter with Ashley several weeks back, he dismissed the message he’d received this morning. He told himself it was because he was swamped with work. Now, though, he had no more excuses. On his way home, he ignored the churning in his gut and drove to Rose Cottage to take a look at what needed to be done.

  Snow still clung to the trees and lay several inches deep on the front steps. Even though the snow was undisturbed by footprints, there was smoke curling from the chimney. A light was burning in the living room, and another shone brightly in the kitchen.

  Pete sat in his car and debated whether he ought to drive right on. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face any of the D’Angelo women, not at Rose Cottage. He’d only been able to work for Ashley because the job had been at Josh’s home. He knew that stepping through this door would strip away the scab on an old wound.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” he finally muttered. It was a job. No big deal. They’d probably rented the place to some stranger. There was nothing here to be afraid of. Chiding himself for his cowardice, he strode to the front door and knocked.

  When the door swung open, he wasn’t sure who was more stunned, him or the pale woman who stared at him with sad, haunted eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” he and Jo said in a chorus.

  He tried for a smile. “Sorry. I had a call to come by about some needed repairs. I had no idea you were here. Frankly, I can’t believe you called me.”

  She regarded him with bewilderment. “I didn’t. What repairs? Ashley said something about making a few calls, but I had no idea she’d done it. We never even went over her list of what needs to be done.”

  “Whoever called said something about some loose and rotting boards on the porch.”

  “It was dark when I got here. I didn’t notice.”

  “You just arrived, then?”

  She shook her head. “Last night, actually.”

  “And you haven’t been out all day,” he said.

  She regarded him with suspicion. “How do you know that?” she asked, a surprisingly defensive note in her voice.

  “Settle down, darlin’. Nobody’s been tattling on you, at least not to me.” He gestured toward the steps. “The only footprints out here are mine.”

  Her temper deflated at once. “Sorry,” she said stiffly.

  He hesitated, then forced himself to ask, “Would you prefer I send someone else over to check out the porch? I could have someone come by in the morning. Your sister obviously didn’t know that calling me would be a problem.”

  Indecision was written all over her face. She looked so lost, so thoroughly miserable, that Pete wanted to haul her into his arms and comfort her, but he no longer had that right. Once she would have slapped him silly if he’d tried, but something told him that whatever had sent her fleeing to Rose Cottage had wiped away that feistiness and strength.

  “No,” she said at last. “You’re here. I don’t want to try to explain to Ashley why I sent you away. I’ll flip on the light so you can take a closer look.”

  Pete nodded. “Thanks.”

  A moment later, the light came on, and then the door firmly shut. He tried not to feel hurt at being so plainly dismissed and locked out, but he couldn’t help it. Once he’d been warmly welcomed in this home. Once he’d been joyously welcomed by this woman. Having that door close quietly in his face was as effective as any slap. The message was just as clear: Jo would tolerate his presence as long as there was a job to do, but she wanted no further contact with him. Her reaction was only what he deserved, yet it rankled.

  He spent a few minutes surveying the porch, determined that it needed to be totally replaced since half measures would only delay the inevitable. He made a few rough calculations on the notepad he always kept in his pocket, then knocked on the door again.

  It took a long time for Jo to answer, and when she did, it was obvious she’d been crying. Her pale skin was streaked with tears. Pete’s heart turned over at the sight.

  “What?” she asked impatiently.

  Forgetting all about the porch for the moment, he asked, “Jo, are you okay?”

  “Nothing a little time won’t cure,” she said. “Or so they say. Personally, I think that’s a crock.”

  He heard the unmistakable bitterness in her voice and concluded she was referring to something recent, though it could just as easily have had something to do with his betrayal all those years ago and a wound he’d caused that had yet to heal.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and risked another rejection. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No, and certainly not with you,” she said flatly. “What I want is to be left alone.”

  He knew he should take her at her word, but how could he? She looked as if she were on the verge of collapse. What were her sisters thinking, leaving her alone like this? Ignoring her words, he brushed right past her and walked inside the cottage, determined not to go until there was more color in her cheeks, even if anger at his presumption was what put it there.

  It was like coming home. The paint was fresh and there were a few unfamiliar touches, but essentially it had hardly changed from the way he remembered it. It was warm and cozy with the fire blazing, the chairs covered with a cheery chintz fabric, the walls decorated with delicate watercolors of the Chesapeake Bay and one or two of the garden right here at Rose Cottage. Jo’s grandmother had painted them. What they lacked in expertise, they made up for in sentiment.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked briskly, heading for the kitchen as if he had a perfect right to do so. “I haven’t and I’m starved.”

  Jo hurried to catch up with him, then faced him with a stubborn jut to her chin. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “You can’t barge in here and take over, Pete.”

  “I just did, sweetheart. How about some soup?” he asked cheerfully, opening a cupboard to find it fully stocked with everything from chicken noodle to tomato soup. “Seems like the right kind of night for it. It’s cold and raw outside.”

  The suggestion was greeted with silence. He took that as a good sign.

  “Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches,” he decided, after checking out the contents of the fridge. “Your grandmother used to fix that for us all the time. Is it still your favorite?”

  “I’m not hungry, and you need to go,” Jo insisted, trying to reach around him to shut the cabinet door without actually touching him.

  “I have time,” he said, deliberately misinterpreting her objection and making it impossible for her to succeed in thwarting his actions. “Sit down. I’ll have it ready in no time.”

  He began assembling the ingredients for their makeshift dinner with quick, efficient movements, finding pans where they’d always been, bowls and plates in the same cupboard. He was pretty sure the flower-trimmed plates had the same chips he remembered.

  “Ah, you’ve already boiled water,” he said, noting that the teakettle on the stove was still hot to the touch. “Teabags in the same place?”

  He didn’t wait for a response, just kept on making the meal, flipping the sandwiches as the bread turned a golden brown, stirring the soup. This was Davey’s favorite meal, too, so Pete had become something of an expert.

  He took heart from the fact that Jo hadn’t blown up and insisted that he go. At the same time, it was telling that she apparently didn’t have the strength to fight his obviously unwanted presence. Eventually, she simply sighed and sat down.


  “So, what brings you to Rose Cottage?” he asked as he set the soup and sandwich in front of her.

  She stared at the food, then scowled at him. “I don’t want this and I don’t want to make small talk, especially not with you,” she said with a bit more spirit.

  “I get that,” he said. “But the food’s hot and I’m here, so why not make the best of it?”

  She frowned. “Were you always this annoying?”

  “Probably,” he admitted. “You tended to see the good in people. You probably overlooked it.”

  “Must have,” she muttered, but she picked up her spoon and tasted the soup.

  Pete felt a small sense of triumph when she swallowed the first spoonful, then went back for more. When she picked up her sandwich, he did a little mental tap dance. The food—or her annoyance with him—was putting a little color back into her cheeks. She didn’t look nearly as sad and defeated as she had when he’d first arrived. He would have put up with a lot worse than what she’d dished out to see that change in her.

  When she finally glanced his way, she asked suspiciously, “Who really called you to come by here? Are you sure you didn’t make the whole thing up?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t say for certain who called. The answering service took the message. You said Ashley had told you she was going to call someone, so I assume it was her.”

  “But you?” she asked skeptically.

  He grinned. “My number’s in the book, so why not me? Besides, I did some work for her and Josh a while back. They were happy with it. Unless you filled her head with a list of all my shortcomings since then, it makes perfect sense.”

  “I’ve never even mentioned your name to her.”

  “Then what’s the big deal?”

  “I think you know the answer to that.”

  “It’s a coincidence, Jo, not some big, diabolical conspiracy I worked out with your sister. Trust me, I have more than enough work to keep me busy—I don’t need to drop in on unsuspecting people and beg for little nuisance jobs like this. I got a call. I came by to check things out. That’s it. Till I saw the lights and the smoke coming from the chimney, I had no clue anyone was staying here.”