She’d just seen a sign that said Welcome to Brooklyn, but her phone was dying and the GPS kept trying to send her back the way she’d come. She knew her parents were probably freaking out that they hadn’t heard from her, but she wanted to find Chase’s apartment before she called them. Besides, they were in a different time zone and probably wouldn’t be up for another hour or so.
If all the text messages and voice mails she’d ignored yesterday were any indication, her parents had told Chase she was coming. Which was exactly why she’d resisted the temptation to even listen to the messages. Her parents—and Chase—would have only tried to change her mind, and she was determined not to lose her courage. She was going to talk things out with Chase if it killed her. And it just might.
She stopped at a light and told her GPS to recalculate. She knew why they called New York “the city that never sleeps.” It wasn’t even five a.m. and already traffic was crazy. Or at least they would have called it crazy back in Cape Girardeau.
A knock on her car window sent her pulse into high gear.
An unshaven man with wild eyes bent to her window under a battered umbrella, rain funneling over the side. He motioned for her to roll down her window. She reached, without looking, to be sure her doors were locked.
“You lost, missy?” the man hollered through the glass, still making a cranking gesture. “Ya got a couple dollars to spare for a hungry stranger?”
She shook her head and inched forward, praying the light would change before the guy got aggressive. The car in front of her revved its engine and she drove forward a few more inches. Her car sputtered and died.
Frantic, she turned the key in the ignition. The car made a familiar grinding noise, started briefly, then died again. She turned the key. Nothing.
The man had his hand on her door handle now. Landyn laid on the horn and shot up a desperate prayer. She pumped the gas and turned the key once more.
The car sputtered to life and adrenaline flooded her veins. Hunched over the steering wheel, trying to ignore the man outside her window, she looked both ways. When she finally had a clear path, she pulled forward fast enough that the tires left a spray of muddy water in their wake.
The man let go of her door handle and spat a choice expletive at her. She lost sight of him in the rearview mirror, but when the light finally changed, she gunned it for all she was worth.
Her breath came in short gasps and she couldn’t seem to loosen her grip on the steering wheel. After their first few weeks learning the ropes and rhythms of the city, she and Chase had never felt unsafe in New York. But then she’d almost always been with him when they went out. Especially at night.
When her heart finally stopped hammering, she felt a stab of guilt. The guy was probably harmless, just looking for breakfast—or more likely, a drink. But still, it wouldn’t have killed her to give him a couple dollars. For all she knew, she might be in his same shoes a month from now.
She thought briefly about going back—driving through for coffee and an Egg McMuffin, finding the man, and giving it to him. She’d seen her dad do that on more than one occasion. Dad would always quote the Bible verse about entertaining angels unaware. She was pretty sure angels didn’t use the kind of language this guy had, but he hadn’t threatened her. Not really.
But two short blocks later, her guilt subsided, and she drove on in the rain, crossing the Brooklyn Bridge into unfamiliar territory. Manhattan, she knew. But Brooklyn was Chase’s turf. And the directions he’d given her to the Bedford-Stuyvesant address when he first moved into the studio were sketchy at best. Still, the GPS should have been able to find it by the address she’d punched in.
Where would she park when she got to Chase’s place? She didn’t know Bed-Stuy at all and didn’t want to have to walk very far. Maybe she should have him pick her up somewhere. And if Brooklyn was anything like Manhattan, parking space was like platinum, but at this time of morning with everyone still in bed, she’d be lucky to even find anything in the residential areas.
Chase had talked about selling his car after he moved to Brooklyn. It’d been crazy enough trying to manage two vehicles when they lived uptown. Chase maintained that in Brooklyn they could get by with public transportation. And Lord knew they could use the money the cars would bring—not to mention the savings in parking fees—but she didn’t think he’d sold his old beater yet. He was kind of attached to that beat-up old Toyota Corolla. But she was glad she hadn’t let him talk her into selling the Honda. It was nothing fancy, and it threatened not to start about half the time, but it was ten years newer than Chase’s old car.
Feeling queasier than usual, she pulled off onto a relatively quiet street and parked under a tree. Rain pelted the windshield as she reentered Chase’s address in the GPS. It seemed weird to be thinking in terms of his address, his apartment, his car. They’d been “we” and “us” almost since they met. But then, she wasn’t the one who’d forced them apart.
She flipped her phone over in her hand. She’d been determined to surprise Chase. To knock on his door and say, “We need to talk.” If she was honest with herself, she’d had visions of him pulling her into a tight hug, begging her to forgive him, promising he would make everything right again.
It was almost six a.m. now. She didn’t know what his new schedule looked like, but if she waited much longer he might leave the apartment. And then what would she do? The few friends she knew well enough to call for help would be at work by the time she got uptown, and besides, she did not relish the idea of driving across the bridge in this rain—or even through the tunnel.
No, it was time to call. She checked the street and sidewalks outside the car, made sure the doors were locked, and that there wasn’t another panhandler waiting to scare the stuffings out of her. Then she dialed her husband.
13
Landyn? Finally.” Chase sounded more relieved than circumstances warranted. “Where are you?” Or maybe he was just angry.
“I’m here. Why? Is everything okay? You’ve talked to my parents, haven’t you?”
“What do you mean, you’re here? Where?”
“In New York. Where do you think? I’m here, in Brooklyn—”
“Just great.” He sighed.
“What? This stupid GPS doesn’t seem to recognize the address you gave me. I think I’m in Brooklyn. I came across the bridge anyway . . .” She peered up through the windshield trying to find some landmark that would help him give her directions to his apartment. “I just turned off Atlantic Avenue. There’s a Chase Bank and a CVS.”
“You just described every other corner in the borough and—” Another sigh. “Landyn—”
“I just turned off on a side street. It’s a deluge here. I can hardly see two feet in front of me.”
“Okay. Listen to me. You said you came in across the bridge? Which bridge?”
“Brooklyn.”
“What? Why’d you go that way? That’s way out of your way.”
“I didn’t know,” she whined. “It’s pouring rain, Chase! I can’t see anything—”
“Okay, calm down. Let’s see . . .” It sounded like he was studying a map. “You want to get back on Atlantic and head east.”
“I can’t even tell which way is east. How far am I from you?” She was near tears again. And beyond exhausted. “Could you please just come and get me?”
Dead silence.
“Chase?”
“You haven’t listened to your messages yet, have you?”
“You mean Mom’s freaking-out call-us-this-minute texts? They didn’t want me to come in the first place but—”
“Landyn, shut up and listen for a minute.”
Her heart did a free fall. “Why? Is everything okay? Chase?”
“Landyn . . . I’m in Cape.”
“Cape?” Her hopes sank. He couldn’t be serious. “Girardeau?”
“Yes, Girardeau. If you’d ever answer your phone you’d know that. This is ridiculous! Why didn’t you return our ca
lls? Your parents have been worried sick. We’ve all been—”
“Wait . . . My parents are there?”
“I’m at their house. They picked me up at the airport last night. We’ve been trying to get hold of you ever since. What on earth are you doing in Brooklyn?”
Landyn rested her forehead on the steering wheel, on the verge of tears. “I came to talk to you.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “You ever hear of a phone?”
“Oh, Chase. What am I supposed to do now? I’m exhausted and I’m sick—” She caught herself. “I’m so hungry, I’m sick.” Why hadn’t she thought to bring that box of saltines she’d kept by her bed at Mom and Dad’s?
“Listen, I’m going to talk you through to the apartment. The super can let you in. I’ll call him when you get close. I think there’s a carton of eggs in the fridge and some milk that’s not too out of date. You can eat something and get some sleep, and we’ll figure out how to get you back here whenever you wake up.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Cape, Chase? This is crazy!”
“Yeah, well, I could ask you the same thing. And what are you thinking, driving sixteen hours straight through? That’s just insane.”
“I didn’t drive straight through. I stopped and slept for a little while.” Not to mention stopping forty times to use the bathroom. But she wouldn’t tell him that, of course. “I’m fine. I just want to get to your apartment.”
“I know. We’ll get you there. Has the rain let up at all?”
The incessant downpour continued to rattle the roof, but she cleared away the fog from the driver’s side window with her sleeve and looked out. “Not really, but it’s starting to get light outside now. I think I can drive if you’ll talk me through it.”
He started to rattle off instructions, but she stopped him. “Chase, wait . . .”
“What?”
There was so much she needed to say to him. And to her parents. But now wasn’t the time. “Never mind,” she said. “Just—get me to your place. Please.” The tears came then. If this child she was carrying ever did this to her, she— Well, she’d only be getting what she deserved.
* * *
Chase clicked off his phone and turned to face Grant. But Grant didn’t miss the huge breath Chase blew out first, and the white-knuckled grip he had on the edge of the marble countertop. The kid’s face was gray as an elephant, too. Grant wasn’t sure whether it was fear or longing he saw in his son-in-law’s expression, but in that moment he was convinced of one thing. Chase Spencer still loved their daughter deeply. And he’d done an admirable job coaching her through what sounded like a very tense situation.
“She made it to the apartment. The super let her in,” Chase explained—unnecessarily, since Grant and Audrey had been hanging on every word of his conversation with Landyn.
“Ray’s a good guy,” Chase said, leaning against the pantry cupboard across from where Grant stood in the inn’s kitchen. “He’ll make sure she’s safe. She was practically falling asleep while I was talking to her.”
“Crazy girl,” Grant muttered. “I don’t envy you having to keep her in line for the rest of your life.”
Chase’s jaw jutted out and he swallowed hard. “I hope I get that chance, sir.”
“You’ve got to be starving,” Audrey said, springing into action the way she did when new guests arrived. “Did you sleep okay? Let me fix you some breakfast. You like sausage?”
“Cold cereal would be fine.”
“Nonsense. Let me make you some eggs. I’m cooking for guests in a few minutes anyway. But you don’t have to be social,” she said quickly. “You can take a plate up to your room.”
“You don’t—”
Grant gripped his son-in-law’s shoulder. “First rule of the Whitman family, son. Don’t turn the lady down when she offers you breakfast. Why do you think she hounded me until I built this inn for her? The woman lives to feed people. Let her feed you.”
“Thanks. I—appreciate you guys putting me up. And putting up with me.” Chase’s grin made him look like the kid he was.
“Why don’t you go on up and shower, Chase?” Audrey pulled a frying pan from a slot in the custom designed cupboard, already in full hostess mode. “I’ll have breakfast ready in fifteen minutes and then you can go back to bed if you want. If you had as restless a night as we did, I know you’ll want to.”
Chase nodded. “You got that right. And Landyn will probably sleep till noon. Maybe we’ll all be thinking a little clearer after a few hours of sleep.”
Grant rolled up the sleeves of his chambray work shirt, wondering if this young buck was insinuating that he wasn’t thinking clearly. He chose to reject the notion, but said, “Unfortunately, I’m thinking clear enough to know that if I don’t get the mowing done this morning, it won’t get done at all.”
“Don’t fall asleep on the mower.”
“Audrey, seriously. Have I ever fallen asleep on the mower?”
“Not that you’ve told me about, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”
Chase cleared his throat. “I think I’ll head up for that shower now.” He turned to Audrey. “Could you tell me where to find a towel?”
“Towels and washcloths are in a basket on the chair by the shower. You can just put stuff in the laundry chute in the hall when you’re done. I’ll have bedding to do up later today anyway.”
Chase thanked her and trudged up the stairs to Landyn’s old room that Audrey had assigned him.
It was all Grant could do not to stop Chase and press him with questions—about his job situation, about the rift between him and Landyn. Grant was eager to hear Chase’s side of things, and he suspected talking to him might reveal that Landyn’s perspective was a bit skewed. There were always two sides. And when a man and a woman were involved, they were often two very different sides.
It struck him that the silver lining in all this might be that they would finally get to know Landyn’s husband better—as an adult—without her around. But their challenge in these next few days would be keeping Landyn’s secret from the father of her baby.
He only hoped he and Audrey would still be pulling for the marriage to survive by the time they got the other side of the story.
* * *
The studio apartment smelled of paint and turpentine. And pinewood from the frames waiting to have canvas stretched on them. Landyn inhaled deeply. It smelled of Chase, too. She imagined him being with her here on a rainy autumn day in New York. And to her surprise, she realized she missed him. A lot.
She’d forgotten how much she loved the city. Brooklyn had its own sounds, its own flavor, but it was still New York.
After Raymond, the building super, let her into the apartment, she’d showered, then crashed on the futon for four hours. She’d tossed and turned, trying to shut off her mind. But she had her second wind now. She’d seen a little deli a couple of blocks up the street and decided to go get something to eat.
The super had given her a spare key to the fourth-floor studio—on threat of death if she lost it—so after slipping her tennis shoes on, she locked the door behind her and headed down the stairs. The super was in the entryway on a ladder, changing out a fluorescent light bulb.
“Sure didn’t sleep long for somebody’s been up all night drivin’.” His thick accent—a quaint blend of Brooklyn and Italy—made her feel right at home.
“I guess I was hungrier than I was sleepy.”
He steadied himself with one hand on the top of the ladder and patted the potbelly hanging over his belt. “I love me some shut-eye as much as the next guy, but I’d be right there with you on the hungry. Ya know where you’re goin’?”
“I thought I saw a deli up the street a ways.” She pointed.
He raised a bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrow. “That’s right, and it’s pretty good, but if you know what’s good for ya, you’ll keep on walkin’ two blocks past the deli. There’s a little hole-in-the-wall barbecue joint. Be
st brisket and beans on the continent. You like barbecue?”
Her stomach did a belly flop at the mere thought. “How about breakfast? Is there someplace close that’s still serving breakfast? Maybe just a bagel and some eggs?”
“Eggs and bagels what ya looking for?” He shook his head like she’d just made a grave mistake. “Then you were right the first time. It’s the deli you want. But you’re gonna be sorry you missed out on that barbecue. Don’t say I didn’t try to steer you right.” Raymond looked down at her from his perch on the ladder,shaking his head. But she didn’t miss the glint in his eye. He studied her then—for a second too long.
“What?”
He looked away quickly and busied himself putting the cover over the newly installed fluorescent tubes. “Chase never said he was married, that’s all. Not till he asked me to let you in to his place.”
Her face must have revealed her thoughts because Raymond scrambled off the ladder and came to stand in front of her. He put a hand on her forearm. “No, no, it ain’t like that. He never had women up here . . . Nothin’ like that. Chase’s a good guy. I have a sense about these things. In here—” He tapped his temple. “But he’s a talkative guy too. And you’re a pretty lady. I woulda thought he’d’ve mentioned you.”
“We’re sort of—separated right now.”
His eyes went wide. “Separated? No, that’s no good. Chase’s a good man. You gotta work it out. You both too young to be callin’ it quits.” He shook his head and tsk-tsked like an old woman. “How long you been married?”
“Six months. Almost seven now, I guess.” She wondered if this last month even counted, and hung her head, feeling like more of a failure than she had when she’d told her parents.
Raymond blew a raspberry. “That’s crazy. No. You’ll make it right. You’ll figure it out.”
She wanted to ask him how he was so sure. Especially when Chase had never mentioned he was married.
Home to Chicory Lane (9781426796074) Page 9