“—it may help give us some closure.”
Georgie reached the clear view of the Sound, and a cool breeze pushed against her, causing her to stop. Her heartbeat hammered. “I’ll let you know what I can.” The promise was a scary one, but part of Georgie felt obligated to this woman, would always feel obligated to this woman. “I’m sorry, Sister Hudson.”
Sister Hudson sniffled. “Well, we must forgive.”
Georgie’s entire body went cold.
“Good-bye, Georgie. We wish the best for you.”
“Bye,” Georgie whispered, then hung up. She stared at gray nothing.
I’m sorry, she’d said. Meaning she was sorry for their pain, sorry for their loss, sorry for their confusion.
Well, we must forgive.
We must forgive you because we blame you. We must forgive you because that’s what we’re supposed to do.
The words echoed around her.
“They blame me,” Georgie whispered to the blurry space in front of her. She wiped at her tears before they dropped. No way was she going to lose it here because of that woman. Her fists clenched, and her heart hurt like it was too big for the cords lashed around it. A painful thud began above her right eye, and she pressed there. Great. The headache.
She’d liked the possibility that Ian understood, that image of Peter helping Ian see her, that she could maybe let go of the guilt over his death. Over everything. She’d found a measure of peace. It may not have helped things with Jace, but it was something. And in one cold phone call, that peace had cracked like a dropped mirror.
Georgie looked down at her phone and typed a text to her mom.
She called. She wanted to know if I had the ring. I’m fine.
She didn’t know how long she stood there between woods and shore, but an eagle cried somewhere, and she blinked. Numbly, she resumed her walk home. She had to pull herself together for Faye and Tru. And work.
Move forward, Georgie. Keep moving.
* * *
Jace hesitated over his phone. He’d been working hard in the kitchen, throwing himself into the food preparation like he hadn’t in weeks. It helped him focus, almost forget that Georgie was right there working as hard as he was. Almost. And the kitchen was running with precision.
He’d submitted the recipes to Reuben, and Saturday morning he would prepare each dish again so Reuben and the assistant cooks, Haru, Joanie, and Caleb, could sample and say yea or nay. He hadn’t asked for Georgie’s help yet, and he knew he should. A lot of the credit went to her. He just couldn’t bring himself to ask. He had one day to gather all the ingredients and make a plan.
When she’d hinted that she was just playing around, toying with him, part of him knew it was only a show. He knew she was being defensive. But part of him recoiled. Some of the humiliation and resentment that Brenna had caused had resurfaced, and he struggled to shove it aside. It was a high price to pay, avoiding the things that might bring rejection simply to avoid rejection.
He sat outside on his break, finding himself winded after the busy dinner rush. He drew in a deep breath and blew it out.
He read the text from his sister again.
Know you’re busy. Call me when you can. It’s about Dad.
The text was from his oldest sister, Cassi. She and Addy still worked at the diner. Cassi acted as assistant manager, and her husband, Dan, often took over the books for Jace’s mom when she wasn’t feeling up to it.
Jace hit call back and waited.
“Hey, little brother. How’s big-city life?”
Jace looked out over the darkening pines toward the darker waters of the Sound. “Quiet. What’s up?”
“I’m worried about Dad,” she said, cutting the small talk in true Cassi style. “Something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean? Is he sick or something?” Jace clenched his fist and opened it, then clenched it again. His dad was getting older. He’d always worked himself hard. He was coming up on sixty-seven years and hadn’t slowed down at all.
“No, not like that.”
Jace relaxed a bit. “Then what is it?”
“He’s driving everyone crazy. He scowls; he yells. He snaps at every little thing, and it’s having an effect on the whole place. The waiters skirt around him; the kitchen is sullen. It’s making the diner a miserable place to work. Dan won’t even come in anymore.”
Jace chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Cassi asked, clearly annoyed that he wasn’t taking her seriously.
“Nothing.” He sobered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just know what that does to a kitchen. I’m sorry. What can I do?”
“You can come back and take over while we send him and mom on a Mexican cruise and maybe try to talk him into semiretirement or even selling the place.”
There was a long stretch of silence between them. She’d gone from dancing on the Lido deck to selling Dad’s pride and joy in one sentence.
“Why don’t you take over, Cass?” he asked.
The silence continued. “The old man was born in a different era, little brother. The business goes to the son.”
He picked up on the resentment in her tone. He began to argue but realized she was right. Jace had been groomed for the job from the beginning.
“Jace?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”
“He needs a break. We found them one of those last-minute saver deals on tickets. But he needs to feel the diner is in good hands before he’ll agree. He needs to spend time with mom. She’s not . . . she’s not improving anymore. They need time together. She’s asked for time with Dad.”
He swallowed hard. His mom seldom asked for anything. “What about you? Dad can’t trust you to handle things while he’s gone? Even for a couple weeks?”
She didn’t answer right away. When she did, the resentment had returned. “I can’t even offer to do it right now. School is bogging me down in homework, and we’re getting into soccer season. The boys are all over the place, and Dan’s got his hands full with several new accounts. As it is, I’m only working part-time, and that’s still enough that I’m crashing every night. If you want me snapping at everyone and running myself into the ground—”
“No.” He stopped her. “Sorry I asked. What about Kelly?” His next oldest sister, Kelly, lived an hour from his family but knew the diner and the cooking as well as he and Cassi did.
“What? Jace, she’s seven months pregnant with two little ones at home, and Rob is still in Afghanistan. Where is your head?”
He closed his eyes, feeling like a jerk. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“Nice. Maybe you should come back, if only to reconnect with your family. No wonder Dad gets so frustrated.”
Jace’s stomach knotted. “I was coming for Addy’s graduation in May.”
“You can come now.” Her tone eased. “Dad may be a grouchy, stubborn man, but you’d be a relief, Jace. He might not show it, but you’d alleviate a lot of the strain he’s is carrying around. And Mom would be overjoyed to have you back.”
Jace couldn’t argue with any of it. And Cassi knew it. “For how long?” he asked.
“Three weeks.” Her voice had picked up that certainty of winning. “Maybe more, but that would totally be up to you.”
“Yeah, right.” He paused. “Things are happening for me here, Cass. Good things.”
But suddenly all the “things” happening for Jace seemed hollow. He’d worked hard for this chance at earning Reuben’s faith. He’d worked hard to earn his own place on the island. Mrs. Feddler needed him to finish the work on the duplex. And Georgie . . . she’d needed him. At least, that was what he’d believed. The same invisible fist that had squeezed his throat when she’d rejected him returned, and he couldn’t breathe.
Cassi answered quietly. “You deserve good things, Jace. I just . . . I could really use your help right now. There might be other options. But you’re the best one. For now.”
He knew she wasn’t just saying that. “Can
you give me a couple days to think about it?”
“Of course. Thanks.”
“Yup.”
They said good-bye, and he hung up. He stared at the shapes the trees made in the dark. The low clouds that had rolled in during the afternoon wafted lazily through the highest treetops, occasionally exposing the black sky above. An owl hooted.
His motorcycle waited for him under the eaves, calling to him for a long ride. But he studied his phone for several minutes, then stood and returned to the kitchen.
Friday morning dawned gray and drizzly. Jace threw on his jacket and patted Kit on the head. “C’mon, boy.” Kit followed him out to the car he’d borrowed from John in exchange for the play tickets John was using with Rhea that night. He’d have the car back in plenty of time for the date, but Jace needed room for his groceries, and he was always grateful not to have to run errands in the rain.
“Yoo-hoo, Jace.”
Jace turned. “Hey, Mrs. Feddler.”
“Not quite the weather we need to paint the house, is it?” she asked, tickling the top of Pepper’s head so the leopard-pattern bow wiggled back and forth.
“I’m afraid not. But we’re supposed to get a break in the next few days. It’s ready to go. I’ve scraped and primed all I can. And I fixed that lean in the carport too.” He walked toward the bracing he’d put in place and pointed out where he’d reset the post as well. She oohed and ahhed.
“The gutters are in pretty bad shape. I’m not gonna lie. You probably want to look at replacing them within a couple of years.” Even now as he looked behind him, the rain bore testimony of his words. Water dripped, and in some places ran, from intermittent leaks along the gutter’s track. “Living here, it’s just not something you can ignore for a season.”
“Oh dear, I think you’re right. I was hoping that cleaning them out would improve them.”
“Me too. There’s a spray sealant that might be a temporary fix if you need to wait. Of course, it needs to be completely dry to apply it.”
She smiled halfheartedly. “Of course. I’ll have to look at the budget.” She sighed deeply. But then she opened her eyes wide. “Oh! The budget! I came out to tell you. I’ve had the flooring people out—I hope you don’t mind; you weren’t home—and they’re scheduled to come a week from today. Carpet, tile, everything. The appliance and heating people are scheduled too, so I’m afraid your apartment will be in a bit of upheaval all at once.”
“Appliances?” he asked.
Her eyes twinkled, and she leaned forward, holding Pepper even more closely to her floral polyester bosom. “Isn’t it exciting? New microwave, new refrigerator, and new stove—I thought you’d appreciate that, Jace—and a disposal! An entire suite. Oh!” She held Pepper up and nuzzled him in his expressionless face. “Isn’t Jace’s apartment going to be so pretty? Isn’t it, Pepper Popkins? Yes, it is . . .” She continued making kissy sounds with her dog.
Jace winced and scratched his head, suddenly wary of what all this renovation would mean. “Uh, Mrs. Feddler, I have to ask . . .”
“Yes?” She turned her attention from the dog.
“With all of these improvements . . . will you be raising the rent?” He held his breath, and she settled Pepper back onto her hip.
“Have no fear. I will give you ample notice of any changes in the rent. Don’t forget, I’m giving you credit for all the splendid work you’re doing. You’re an excellent tenant, Jace Lowe.” She turned to go into the house. “Just keep praying the rain will ease up enough to paint the place. Hate to see all your hard work sit stagnant.” The door closed behind her.
Jace looked over the leaky, scraped, not-quite-leaning-anymore structure he called home, very aware that she hadn’t answered his question.
Chapter 19
Friday night had finally rolled around, and Georgie was on her way home after a physically and emotionally exhausting day. By the last couple hours of work, she was fighting yawns and a desperate desire to curl up in bed with a big quilt and not think about the week she’d had, or the end it had come to.
She’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning over her conversation with Ian’s mother, mixed with flashes of her experience with Jace in the cooler and what she’d said to him after, and long, sad, lingering thoughts over their day at the tulip fields. The best day she’d had in a long time. Those thoughts exploded into fragments as Ian’s voice taunted her with the engagement ring. I know you, Georgie. You’re nothing without me, Georgie. It’s your fault, Georgie.
Ian’s mom. Well, we must forgive.
An idea had begun to take root as the most recent memory of the accident settled into place: the Hudson family were all off their rockers.
Of course, she’d shoved this idea in a box and put it high on the shelf next to a few others because she shouldn’t be thinking that of other people. It wasn’t right, was it? To just judge others as off-kilter because you were hurting? And who was she to call someone else crazy? Unbalanced?
It sure would make it easier to move past it all though. She shuddered at having to face another night of spinning thoughts and the wet pillowcase that came with them. Maybe her family would provide some distraction.
She entered the Silva home while the moon, or the idea of it beyond the heavy clouds, hovered above the tree line.
“Georgie’s home,” Faye called out and welcomed her with a hug. Her aunt briefly studied her. “You’re tired. I’ll get you some Tylenol for that headache.” She bustled away before Georgie could ask how she knew she had one.
“Did you bring me something?” Tru asked from the couch.
“No, Tru, not today. Sorry.”
“Mm.” She patted the seat next to her, and Georgie took it.
Georgie leaned into Tru and rested her head on her shoulder. She smelled like Dove soap and Snickers bars.
“Hard day?” Tru asked.
“Yeah. Hard week.”
Tru made an exasperated sound. “You got a little holiday right in the middle of it with your man.”
“Tru—”
“Okay, okay . . . your man-friend. Holy Hannah, you gotta be so touchy about something so simple.”
“It’s not simple,” Georgie argued.
“Yeah, I know. ’Cause you were hurt. And we’re not supposed to talk about it.”
Georgie lifted her head, and Faye appeared with a glass of water and the medicine. She thanked Faye and swallowed the pills. “You can talk to me about my injuries. I don’t mind.”
“I’m not talking about getting that kind of hurt,” Tru said.
“Tru—” Faye’s voice had a tone of warning in it.
Georgie looked between them both. “What kind of hurt do you mean?” Tru looked down at her folded hands, and Faye held the empty glass up to the light as if to inspect it for cracks. “Okay. Fine.” Georgie pushed herself up from the couch, wincing as the headache briefly intensified.
“Where are you going?” Faye asked.
“I’m tired. I’m going to my room so you two can talk about my injuries all you want.” It was an ungrateful, petty thing to say, but she was feeling petty and ungrateful. And awful and worthless.
“Like heck you are.”
Georgie turned as Tru stood and placed her hands on her hips. The TV had been turned off, and the room had become significantly silent. Tru pointed to Faye accusingly. “She said we had to be careful with you because that boy who died in the accident was hurting you. He was hurting your heart. He was hurting your spirit. And for some reason, all we can talk about is your headaches and your broken ribs and your outsides. Well, it seems to me that we’ve talked a lot about those things, and those things have almost healed. You can’t even see your scar anymore, barely maybe. And you get your headaches sometimes but not all the time like before.” She turned to Faye. “What if we talked about her inside hurts? Her heart and her spirit. Like we talk about in church? She has a spirit in a body, and if that boy hurt her spirit—I don’t care if he died, and do
n’t you be mad at me—if he hurt her spirit, then if we talk about those hurts, maybe they’ll heal faster too. That’s all.” She crossed her arms and set her jaw in stubborn insubordination.
Faye’s arms flopped at her sides in defeat, and she shook her head. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. We’re just doing what we think is best. Guessing, really.” She wiped her nose with her apron. “Tru’s right in some ways—”
“In a lot of ways,” Tru corrected her.
Georgie barked a half laugh, half cry.
Faye shook her head. “Tru, Georgie is talking about her heart and her spirit. With the therapist.” She turned to Georgie. “Right, honey? That’s a private place. It’s safe.”
“And she’s talking to Jace too,” Tru added.
Georgie’s head snapped up. “Why do you say that?”
Tru opened her eyes wide. “Well, who wouldn’t? I’d tell that man anything. Excuse me, that man-friend.”
Faye put her entire hand over her face and sighed.
Georgie looked to the ceiling, shaking her head. Faye moved to say something—most likely apologetic—and Georgie put out her hand. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice peculiarly strong considering how shaky her emotional state was. “Really, it is. I don’t want you tiptoeing around me anymore. Maybe I needed that at first—I did need that. But I don’t want it from you anymore. Any of you. If I’m supposed to get stronger . . .” She thought of the phone call with Shannon Hudson. “Even when things are still so crappy—sorry, Faye, crummy—I think I’d just as well have you ask, ‘Hey, Georgie, how’s your spirit doing today?’ as have you ask how my headache is.” She managed a smile through the wave of emotion pushing through her.
She turned to Tru. “I am talking to the therapist, and it’s good. And yes, that boy did hurt me, and he died, and you don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t know him. I did. And it’s a shame he died.” She drew in a breath and wiped at an escaped tear. “But I’m learning some good things. And some hard things. But important things, I think, so that maybe one day I’ll look back on all this and see . . . why . . .”
Kisses in the Rain Page 24