The Single Mom's Second Chance

by Jessica Keller

  “Just like that?”

  “Claire, you deserve more in this life than I could ever give you. The least I can do is honor your wishes.”

  It was strange, how much could be accomplished when tension breathed down their necks like a pack of wolves. Claire kept her eyes off her painting as much as she could and tried to focus. Evan had his laptop open and took notes as they brainstormed. They settled on hosting a 5k walk/run with a bake sale at the end.

  Evan paused over his keyboard. “We could do something like a doughnut-eating contest at the finish of the race.”

  Claire scrunched up her face. “Right after running? People will throw up.”

  He folded his hands behind his head and tossed his feet onto his desk, leaning back. “Which would be quality entertainment.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “I’m joking.” He let his feet fall back to the floor and the chair righted again. “Well, not about the doughnuts. Pastries aren’t a laughing matter.”

  Claire tapped her temple. “I’ll tuck that nugget away for future reference.”

  He barked a laugh and moved back over to his keyboard. “I know a guy who owns a bakery in Shadowbend. I’m pretty sure I can get him to donate everything so it wouldn’t eat into our costs. The contest could be open to anyone, not just runners from the 5k. That way, it makes our event more appealing to a broader audience.”

  Claire jotted “doughnuts” onto the pad of paper she was working on. “Talk to your guy. If he’ll do it for free, why not?”

  “Let me make sure my notes are right and then I’ll email them to you. No arguments. If I know you, that sheet of paper you’re working on will become a crumpled ball at the bottom of your purse within the next hour.”

  She ripped the page off the memo pad and folded it four times. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

  “Okay.” He squinted at the glowing screen. “I’m in charge of talking to my friend Miles at the police department about approval for the racecourse, and you’re calling the organization that times these things to see if there’s anything else we need in order for this all to be official.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  He pointed at her even though his focus was fixed on the computer screen. “You’ll call your mom’s country-club friends and get a list of donors started for the bake sale, and I’m going to make calls to the church ladies for the same reason.”

  This was the Evan that his followers from high school had never seen—studious, organized, ready to take on the world for good. The popular kids had wanted to peg him as the handsome jokester or the ladies’ man, but he’d never truly been those things. He was an all-in kind of guy. When he built something or helped someone, every cell in his body was dedicated to that purpose. Right here in his office, bent over a project, was the real Evan Daniels.

  Inches away...the Evan she’d loved still existed.

  And that was the most painful part. This moment. The realization that had just stabbed through her was why she hadn’t wanted to return to Goose Harbor.

  She had to get out of here. “You forgot something on the list.” Her voice carried a false cheerfulness she didn’t possess at the moment.

  Evan poised his fingers over his keyboard. “I’m ready. Hit me with it.”

  “You missed the part where it’s late and we have to build snowmen tomorrow.”

  The community email blast penned by Mr. Banks had announced that they would kick off the mayoral competition with the first test beginning at noon in the square. He’d called it a snow festival, even though she and Evan building snow sculptures was the only preplanned event.

  Evan nodded and closed his laptop. “Our creativity on display for all to see.” He eased around the desk and held out his hand to her. “What are you making?”

  She feigned being busy with her purse so she could politely ignore his gesture as she rose. “That’s a well-guarded secret.”

  He buried his hands in the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt and glanced at the clock. “Oh, wow. It’s past ten thirty.”

  “What? Alex should have been to bed hours ago.”

  Evan followed her out of the office. Laura and Alex were both snoring in the living room, light from the television screen casting shadows over their faces. A movie with talking animals played in the background. No doubt Laura had searched the display until she found something age appropriate for Alex. Claire made a mental note to thank her for being so thoughtful tonight. There were a million more exciting ways she could have spent her Saturday night. Maybe Claire would pick the teenager up a gift card for one of the local shops.

  Soft breaths whooshed out of Alex’s parted lips. His brow, which was bunched with frustration so much of the time, was completely relaxed. Claire’s fingers twitched; she itched to smooth back his hair. Kiss his temple. Whisper that he was her son and she loved him, that he never had to fear being unwanted or rejected ever again.

  “I hate to wake him.” She worked her lip between her teeth.

  “Don’t.” Evan held up a hand and shuffled forward. He bent and lifted Alex, immediately making for the door. “Grab his coat,” he whispered. “See if you can get it on him without waking him.”

  Evan held Alex as Claire slipped his arms into his down jacket. Should she zip it up? She decided against it, fearing it would cause him to stir. Next she grabbed her coat and tugged her heavy boots on before turning back to Evan. “You don’t have a coat on or shoes.” Ugh. She sounded like such a mom. Evan was a grown man. She added, with slightly less authority in her voice, “At least let me help you step into some boots.”

  “I don’t want to trip.”

  She opened her mouth to protest.

  “I’ll be fine,” Evan said.

  In only socks?

  Grown man, Claire. Let him be.

  She held the door open and he followed her out. A hiss passed from his lips when he stepped into the yard. The cold bite of winter prickled against her cheeks. She could only imagine how freezing Evan’s feet must be. The snow would soak through his socks instantly. She unlocked her car and held the door open for him as he set Alex into his booster seat. Claire slid forward so she could reach and buckle him in. When she turned around, Evan was still behind her, one hand resting on the top of her car and the other slung over the open door.

  She glanced back at Alex. “He’ll get cold.”

  Without a word, Evan slipped his arm around her waist and drew her out of the door opening. With his arm circling her there was no comfortable place to put her free hand other than his chest. Despite the temperature and his lack of a coat and shoes, Evan was acting as if he wasn’t chilled at all. In fact, the intensity in his gaze sent warmth curling through Claire. He closed the car door but kept his hold on her.

  Dim light spilled from the large front windows of his house, enough to show his beautiful green eyes, which were only a breath away from hers. Searching her face. What was he looking for?

  “Do you still paint?”

  Of all the things for him to ask her right now...

  Claire had loved art and once dreamed of becoming an artist, opening a studio in town. Evan had encouraged her passion for drawing and painting, but her parents had berated her for wasting time on something so frivolous. Hardly anyone made a living from art.

  She swallowed hard. “Not since...not in a long time.”

  His face contorted for a second. Maybe from standing in the snow without shoes on. Served him right.

  “Why do you care?” Claire whispered. A stiff wind caught her hair and sent it dancing around them.

  As if he was mapping out a long journey or searching the sky for an undiscovered star, Evan’s gaze traced from her hair to her eyes to her lips, and back to her eyes. “The world was richer when you did.”

  “Painting doesn�
�t—”

  “When you’re doing something you love...” He shook his head and let his arms slip away. “Take care, Claire-bear.”

  Then he was gone, leaving her with nothing but an old nickname that tore her heart in two.

  Chapter Seven

  The crowd gathered in the square to watch the snow sculpture competition was easily three or four times bigger than Claire had expected, especially when the snowfall was taken into consideration.

  At some point while they were all sleeping the skies had opened and dumped even more snow onto their little section of the world. The drive to church was somewhat treacherous, but now that it was later in the day the public works crews had all the roads cleared.

  Board members had set up roped-off areas on either side of the square, one for Evan and one for Claire. The only rule was that the snow sculptures had to be ready for judging by six that evening.

  Some people had brought sleeping bags or wore snow pants, signaling that they were in for the long haul. Once again, Claire had to admit that the board and Evan were both right—as ridiculous as the competitions were, the people of Goose Harbor needed this distraction.

  A troop of school-aged entrepreneurs sold hot chocolate, three flavors of coffee and a few tea options from a card table near the gazebo, and Jenna and Toby Holcomb, along with their daughter, Kasey, were working through the crowd with boxes of cinnamon doughnut holes, freshly made at the industrial kitchen at their apple orchard. Despite it being Sunday, many of the shops along the square were open.

  With two large throwaway cups in her hands, Kendall picked her way through the crowd toward Claire. She handed her one. “Vanilla rooibos latte. From Kay’s Kitchen.” Kendall jutted her head to indicate the diner that had only recently opened. “I know you love the coffee at Tradewinds, but this stuff is amazing. Trust me.”

  “As long as you promise this thing has caffeine in it—” Claire jiggled the cup “—I’m happy.”

  “Then drink and be happy, my friend.” Kendall took a long sip of her latte and smacked her lips. “So what’s the plan here?”

  Claire sighed as she examined the gigantic mound of snow one of the public works trucks had dumped into her taped-off area. The heat from the cup warmed her hand. “Build a snowman, I guess. I mean, how hard can it—”

  A round of applause cut off her words. The largest concentration of people were gathered around Evan’s area, blocking the sight line. Kendall craned her neck to get a better view.

  “Are they seriously applauding his arrival?” Claire gaped at the crowd.

  Kendall shrugged. “This town loves that man.”

  “Oh, come on, let’s just go over there.” Claire playfully smacked her friend in the arm. “I should scope out my competition, anyway.”

  Evan was unloading tool after tool from the bed of his truck. Three plastic garbage cans, a few plastic totes, an ice-fishing auger, five different shaped saws and a shovel... In spite of the temperature, he wasn’t wearing a coat. Instead he had on work jeans and heavy boots and what appeared to be three or four layers of long-sleeved shirts. The sleeves on each were rolled in a way that looked effortlessly stylish. While everyone else—including Claire—waddled around like fluffy T. rexes in their large puffer coats.

  “Oh, brother.” Claire spun around and marched back to her snow pile. Evan knew how to put on a show, how to play to an audience. No matter what she did today, he would outshine her. That was his way. He did it without trying.

  What she wouldn’t give for a thimbleful of his confidence.

  But they were different. Evan didn’t have to navigate his life or weigh other people’s attention based on what they could use him for. He wasn’t a pawn to be played for personal gain like she’d been. He was judged and liked for who he was—his own merits, his personhood. He had never had to struggle with trying to live up to impossible standards.

  What must that be like?

  She heard the bang of Evan closing his tailgate, and soon after that the crowd began to disperse, moving like an amoeba toward the shops and eating areas in search of somewhere warm to lie low for a few hours. People would be able to come and go at their leisure throughout the day to check on Evan’s and Claire’s progress.

  Kendall jogged to catch up to her. “You have to admit, he’s adorable.”

  “You do know you’re going to be related to him, right?”

  “Ew.” Kendall’s lips curled into a hilarious caricature of disgust. “I so didn’t mean it like that. And you know that! Brice is much more my style.” She did a whole-body shiver and stomped her feet, trying to get warm.

  Claire jammed her latte onto a small table that had been set up in her area and lodged a boot into the mountain of snow that she was supposed to make something out of. “The main problem with Evan Daniels is—”

  “That he’s standing right behind you.” Evan’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

  Kendall let out a low whistle and backed away.

  Claire slowly faced him.

  He flashed a full-dimpled smile. “Wait. Let me guess. Is it that I can’t reach the center of my back when I have an itch? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a fairly common problem for most humans.”

  It’s that you’re some force of nature. You can’t help people falling for you.

  Anything she’d wanted to say about him became lodged in her throat.

  Evan tugged off his glove. “I only came over to shake hands before we started. Good sportsmanship and all that.” He extended his hand.

  She took it. “Aren’t you cold?”

  He pursed his lips and wagged his head, lowering his voice as if he was sharing a great secret. “Thermal underwear. Pretty standard issue for us outdoorsmen.”

  “You’re hardly an outdoorsman.”

  Their hands were still clasped together. A camera clicked. Another.

  “I build furniture all winter long in my garage with the door cracked. That’s outdoorish.” He tilted his head, questioning.

  “Totally doesn’t count.” She jerked her chin toward his area of the square. “What’s with all the stuff you dragged from your truck? Just for show?”

  “Highly technical snow sculpting equipment.” He tugged on her hand, bringing her closer. “I watched some how-to videos online last night. We’ll see how it goes.”

  * * *

  Evan pushed his hands into his lower back and leaned against them, stretching aching muscles. His fingers were going numb, but he needed to continue working.

  Skylar Ashby stepped gingerly into his roped-off area. “Dad said to give you these.” She handed him two pocket warmers.

  He groaned with joy and slipped them into the palms of his gloves. “Thank him for me.” Evan curled his fingers into the heat. Wow, that felt good. “I was afraid my fingers were going to fall off soon.”

  She held her elbow in one hand and her chin in the other, examining his almost completed sculpture. Admittedly, he’d gone a little overboard. There was a six-foot-tall goose with its wings spread wide. He’d had to reinforce the goose’s neck and legs with planks he’d stowed in the back of his truck. Under one of the bird’s wings was a smaller sculpture of a kid sledding down a hill, and he was working on a boat for the other side but didn’t know if he’d have enough time to finish. Snow wasn’t a difficult medium for him, after working with wood for so many years. It was more like clay or dough once he added some water to it.

  “It’s not half-bad,” Skylar offered. “But I bet my dad could have made something cooler.”

  Evan bit back a smile. “Your dad is your hero, isn’t he?”

  She nodded and ducked her head a little in an uncharacteristic display of embarrassment.

  She toed at a pile of snow he’d shaved off from his sculpture. “Actually, he probably wouldn’t have built
anything as good as you. That’s your gift, not his. Maggie says everyone has one. She’s good at feeding people—not just with food. She feeds you here, too.” Skylar tapped her heart. Maggie and Kellen hadn’t been married long, but the girls’ love for their stepmom was evident.

  “My dad is better with words. How he writes songs and leads worship and sometimes what he says...it makes you feel a lot of things.” Skylar walked a circle around Evan’s sculptures, examining them from every angle. “Your gift is building.”

  She made the declaration with a certainty that caused nervous energy to race down his neck.

  “Thanks, Sky.” He coughed to clear his throat. “I like to make things.”

  “But Maggie says you can’t just use your gift for you. She says you have to ask yourself how does my gift help others? And how does God want me to use my gift? I know you make stuff for church and help people, and everyone knows you’re the one who built the ramp for the Turner family when Miss Nancy had to go into a wheelchair.”

  So much for doing things anonymously.

  His hands had thawed enough, so Evan pulled the pocket warmers out of his gloves.

  “Maggie and my dad, both their gifts change people on the inside. Dad says people are forever, so they’re what matter the most.” She popped her hands to her hips. “Do you think that, too?”

  He braced his elbows on his knees as he crouched to be eye level with her. “I do.”

  She cocked her head and pulled a face as if she was figuring out a math puzzle. “So do you build people?”

  “Nope, I think that’s God’s job.” He sank one of his hands to the ground for balance.

  “But you could build people up. That’s your gift.”

  His legs were starting to tire, so he dropped to his knees. “I guess I never thought about it that way before.”

  “I think my gift is being smart.” Skylar boxed the sides of her face between her gloved hands. “But my brain hurts now. I just used up all my smarts on you.”

  That made him throw back his head and laugh. “I’m sorry I drained all your brainpower. I must be an especially difficult case.”