“Hey, that was a secret.” Janey grinned at Dixie and leaned down to hug Gretchen too. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” But Gretchen held on for an extra moment, so glad to see such familiar faces. Janey wore her park ranger clothes, her high hiking boots, and her dark hair back in a ponytail. Her son, Jess, almost a spitting image of her except for her late husband’s blue eyes instead of Janey’s dark ones, lifted his hand in a wave. Gretchen caught sight of a spot of powdered sugar on the boy’s sweatshirt, and smiled at him.
“So Drew ran home to shower,” Janey said. “He said he’d be back by ten or so. He’s planning to stay the day and then grab the kids at three.” She put her arm around Jess’s shoulders. “And then he’s taking you guys out to the lavender farm, so be good.”
“Are you sure he—?”
“Don’t even ask,” Janey said, her eyes turning sharp. “I’ve known Drew Herrin my whole life, and you can’t find anyone better to entertain kids for an afternoon.”
Gretchen wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, but she didn’t protest again. Drew had been fun to hang out with in the summers she’d spent here. She didn’t know him very well now, though. But she didn’t really have any other options. Janey had to work. Gretchen herself couldn’t get out of bed. Which made her life increasingly difficult when Dr. Harris walked in and said, “Oh, we’ve got a crowd in here. Good morning, everyone. I’m here to take Gretchen on her first walk.”
Chapter Seven
Drew looked at himself in the mirror and could admit he appeared exhausted. Sleeping in a semi-sitting up position could do that. And that recliner was the most uncomfortable chair he’d ever sat—or tried to recline—in.
Janey was taking the kids over to see Gretchen this morning, and Drew cleaned up his beard so it was nice and neat. He wasn’t sure what he’d do all day in the hospital room with Gretchen, but he wanted to look his best whatever he did.
Showered and shaved, he stepped into his kitchen. His brother liked to call it a science experiment gone wrong, and his mother had labeled it a laboratory more than a kitchen. Drew didn’t mind their teasing. He could make sandwiches and pour himself a bowl of cereal despite the three electric ice cream makers and the two hand-operated ones taking up most of the counter space.
Next to the three notebooks where he’d kept detailed facts and figures of all of his recipes, his trials, his successes, his failures, he picked up a pen. He’d spent part of last night before he’d been able to drift into a shallow, uncomfortable sleep brainstorming flavor combinations.
Lavender had a sweet, floral, and soapy flavor, and he’d paired it with other sugary things like honey and white chocolate. But last night, as he’d done something he hadn’t thought he’d do anytime soon—holding hands with a pretty woman—he’d thought about going sweet and sour. Maybe savory. Maybe all three.
Augustus had won with lavender and white chocolate once. Drew had taken that idea from the other man, actually. He’d won with lavender and blueberry, but Drew detested blueberries in anything but muffins, so he’d bypassed that particular flavor combination. And the last time Augustus had won, Drew had been in Medina. He couldn’t bear to know anything about the man, as Augustus was a direct line to Yvonne, and Drew hadn’t been able to deal with anything remotely related to her while he was in Medina.
Because she was the entire reason he’d left Hawthorne Harbor. Yvonne Hammond—Augustus’s daughter—had refused to help Drew with his recipes, which suited him just fine. Her family owned one of the biggest lavender farms surrounding Hawthorne Harbor, and sometimes one of them sat on the judging panel. To protect them both, she’d kept herself out of that part of Drew’s life.
“So…” He tapped the pen against the counter and reached for the top notebook. Flipping to a clean page, he wrote lemon and then below it orange before drawing two question marks. He’d made sherbets before, and his favorite was actually raspberry. He added that to the list and made plans to get over to the year-round farmer’s market in Seattle so he could get the orchard and vine-fresh fruit he needed to make the citrus purees and extracts.
A plan started to come together, much more than his tired mind could grasp onto last night. But with the sweet lavender, the rich cream, and the zesty citrus, he’d need something to cut through it.
“Black pepper,” he announced to his ice cream making kitchen. He wrote it down and closed the notebook. As he gazed out the window his mind filled with the image of Gretchen, and he had the sudden urge to take her one of his specialty ice creams.
Anxiety cut through his stomach, nearly eradicating his idea. He hadn’t shared his creations with very many people—his mom and step-dad, Adam, and Russ. A safe lavender and honey with the paramedic crew for his birthday last year. He’d never entered the Lavender Festival’s Creation Contest, but he was determined to do so this year. He still had four months to develop and perfect the recipe he’d use to win the title.
But he could take Gretchen a taste of his white chocolate ice cream with lavender and ricotta. He had all the ingredients, and he didn’t even need to consult the notebook for the recipe. He’d made this treat so many times, he could do it from memory.
So he got out his heavy pot and measured whole milk into it. He added sugar and several drops of lavender-infused vanilla. He melted the white chocolate over a double boiler and separated five eggs while the ice cream base warmed.
He ladled the hot mixture into the egg yolks to temper them, and employed his patience while he stirred the custard until it thickened. With a scoop of ricotta in the ice cream base, he poured in the melted chocolate and added a couple of cups of cream.
While the mixture chilled, Drew went into the backyard with Blue and Chief, who wore identical expressions of joy that he’d finally come outside. “Hey, guys. Did you get breakfast, huh? Huh?” He scrubbed the dogs as he glanced toward their food bowls. Adam had come by as he’d promised and taken care of Drew’s dogs.
Now, he picked up a tennis ball and held it for both dogs to see. “Wait,” he coached. “Wait.” Blue sat first, his tongue hanging out though they hadn’t even started playing yet. “C’mon, Chief.” Drew pointed to the ground, and the stubborn dog sat. “Okay go!” He threw the ball and both shepherds tore after it. Blue, the younger, more agile of the two German shepherds, got the ball first two-thirds of the time, and he always seemed pretty proud of himself as he trotted back to Drew.
His phone rang and he threw the ball again before answering it. “Hey, Mom.”
“Drew, you sound good.”
“Why wouldn’t I sound good?” He silently cheered as Chief got the ball when Blue bobbled it.
“I thought you might be tired this morning.”
“Well, yeah, but I’m okay. Am I still good to bring Dixie and Jess out to the farm this afternoon?”
“Of course. I’ve already started the first batch of cookies.”
“First batch?” He picked up the ball and threw it again. “Mom, there’s two of them.”
“And you’re coming. And Adam is bringing Anita for dinner.”
Drew’s stomach dropped toward his boots. “Mom,” he said. “Really?”
“Really. We have people to cook dinner for.” She sounded delighted, and Drew didn’t have the heart to tell her that ten-year-olds probably didn’t like meatloaf and asparagus.
“All right.” Blue dropped the ball at Drew’s feet and sat back on his haunches, waiting with that perpetual grin on his doggie face.
“Joel and I were talking this morning.”
Oh, boy. Drew couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say next. He bent, picked up the ball, and tossed it again. Chief didn’t even go after it, but flopped to the ground several feet from Drew.
“We’d like to offer Gretchen to come out to the farmhouse while she recovers.”
Drew couldn’t even make sense of her words. “What?” His throwing arm hung limply at his side.
“Well, she’s not goi
ng to be able to live alone, not with her foot broken the way you said it was. Joel and I are here, and her flowers are right here, and we think she should come stay with us until she gets back on both feet.”
Drew had started to shake his head about the time his mom had said broken. “Mom, she’s not going to do that. She has a fiercely independent streak.”
“Well, can’t you at least ask her?”
No, Drew did not want to ask her. Gretchen would not like the idea, and he’d end up looking overeager. He wasn’t sure if Gretchen’s middle-of-the-night hand-holding was out of pure desperation not to be alone, or because the chemistry he felt with her was flowing both ways.
“I’ll think about it.”
His mother grunted, but Drew simply couldn’t commit to asking Gretchen such a thing. “Her foot might not even be that bad,” he said. “The doctor wanted to do more x-rays this morning.” He turned back to the house. “Look, Ma, I gotta go. I’ll see you this afternoon, all right?”
He hung up, refilled the dog’s water bowls and threw the ball one last time before heading inside and switching on two of the electric ice cream makers. He poured the chilled base into the machines and let them work their magic.
By the time he showed up at the hospital, it was a bit past ten. Gretchen sat in the recliner with her foot propped on the bed.
“Hey, look at you.” He smiled at her and set the temperature-controlled bag containing the ice cream on her rolling table. She had great color in her face this morning, and she’d braided her hair. “Have you been up and walking?”
“Yes.” She moaned and rubbed a spot on her knee. “It’s horrible.”
He chuckled. “Well, it keeps the blood moving to the injured areas. Have you gone in for the extra tests?”
“They’re going to come get me in a few minutes.” She yawned and ran one palm over her eyes.
“I brought you something that might tide you over.” He reached into the bag and removed the plastic container of ice cream. His heart bobbed against the back of his throat. He was really going to share it with her. Ask her for her opinion on the recipe. Reveal that he dabbled in ice cream and dreamed of winning the town’s Lavender Festival Creation Contest.
What would she think? For some reason, her opinion was extremely important to him. Yvonne had always expressed that he could win, but she’d never initiated any conversations on the topic. She’d never asked him how his recipes were coming.
“It’s white chocolate lavender ice cream with ricotta.” He popped the lid and handed the container to her.
She took it without looking at it. A flirtatious glint entered her eye. “And where did you get this?”
“I, uh, made it.”
“You made it?” She accepted the plastic spoon he passed to her.
“Yeah, I made it,” he said with more confidence. “This morning.”
She finally tore her eyes from his and looked at the ice cream. “I didn’t know someone like you knew what ricotta was.”
“Someone like me?”
She waved her spoon in the air like a wand. “You know, with all those muscles and whatnot.”
Drew had no idea why he couldn’t have muscles and make ice cream, but he put a smile on his face and said, “Give it a try. I want to know what you think.”
She took a bite without hesitating. Only a moment later, her eyes widened. “Wow, Drew. This is fantastic.” She scooped herself another taste.
“Are you just saying that?”
“No.” She ate more of the ice cream. “You should sell this stuff.”
He basked in her compliment. But pretty much everyone in town had bottled, bunched, or baked lavender into something, packaged it, and was trying to sell it. He didn’t want to throw his hat into that ring. He just wanted to give some validity to his mad scientist hobby he’d been nurturing for the past six years.
“Time for the x-rays.” Roxy stepped into the room pushing a wheelchair in front of her. “Oh, hey, Drew.” If she thought it strange to see him there, she didn’t say so.
“I can take her over,” he said.
“Yeah?” Hope entered Roxy’s face. “We were slammed in emergency this morning, and I’m so behind. If you could take her to radiology, that would be amazing.”
Drew’s curiosity jumped. “Slammed in emergency?” He took the chair from Roxy.
“Three people got burned when the hot oil splashed at the bakery this morning. A mother who sliced all the way to the bone when a glass broke while she was washing it.”
“I didn’t hear any calls.” Drew pulled out his phone like they’d be there now.
“Everyone drove themselves in.” Roxy turned to leave. “She needs to be there in fifteen minutes.”
“We won’t be late.”
Roxy left, and Drew turned to face Gretchen. She’d polished off all the ice cream and was licking her lips. Drew’s face flamed with enormous heat, and he glanced away. “So, can you get from that chair to this one on your own?”
“Better not risk it.” She scooted to the edge of the chair, and he put his hand under her arm. Supporting her, he helped her transition from one chair to the other by pivoting on her good foot. She groaned as she sank into the seat.
“When’s the last time you had pain meds?” He checked the end of her bed for her chart, but it wasn’t there.
“This morning.” She sounded tired, and Drew was glad she didn’t have to walk over to radiology. He pushed her onto the elevator and pressed the button for the bottom floor.
“I don’t like hospitals,” she said so quietly, he could barely hear her.
“No?” Drew eyed the huge elevator, which could hold two rolling beds and the people needed to push them. “I spend a lot of time here, so I don’t mind it.”
“When Aaron was in the accident that took his life…” Her voice drifted into nothing, and the atmosphere in the elevator turned charged and awkward.
“Car accident?” Drew cleared his throat, torn between whether he should’ve asked or not. But the simple truth was he wanted to know. He wanted to support Gretchen in everything, and the strength of his fledgling feelings surprised him.
Gretchen studied her hands and nodded. “He’d stayed late to finish some work, which honestly, wasn’t that abnormal.”
The elevator opened and Drew eased her into the hall, moving slowly so she had time to talk before they arrived for the x-rays.
“I often went to bed alone, but I never woke up alone. When I did, I knew there was something wrong.”
“I’m so sorry, Gretchen.”
“The police didn’t find his wallet in the glove compartment because it was smashed completely in. Aaron was in surgery for hours and hours.” She glanced left and right, and Drew suddenly wanted her to stop talking. The tight pain in her voice caused his chest to squeeze uncomfortably.
“The other driver had fallen asleep,” she continued. “Crossed the center line, and hit Aaron head-on.”
Drew pressed his eyes closed. He wouldn’t have wanted to be summoned to that emergency scene, despite what he’d thought about having a more exciting day at work. He had nothing he could say to her, and thankfully the door to radiology loomed.
He put his hand on her shoulder with only a few steps to the department, and she reached back and patted his fingers. Electricity roared through him, and he had to believe she could feel the current too.
“Gretchen Samuels,” he said upon entering radiology.
“I can take her.” A woman stood from behind the desk.
“Wait.” Gretchen looked up at him with a face full of fear. “You’ll be here when I get back, right?”
He smiled at her, hoping to convey as much comfort as possible. “Right here.”
She nodded, and Drew passed her over to the radiology nurse. He tucked his hands in his pockets and watched Gretchen disappear down the hall. His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his pocket, using it as the distraction he needed from his confusing feelings about the
girl he used to spend summertime with in rows of lavender.
His heart lurched for a whole new reason. Because the text was from Yvonne Hammond.
Hey you! I’m going to be back in town for a few days next month and wondered if you wanted to get together.
Get together?
Drew looked up, shocked to know he still had Yvonne’s number in his phone and utterly baffled as to why she’d want to get together with him. They hadn’t spoken in three years. Not a text. Not a written note. Nothing.
So why was Yvonne texting now?
Chapter Eight
Gretchen slept after her appointment in radiology, and Drew left her snoozing to go get the kids. Jess pulled open the door and climbed into the cab of Drew’s truck first, saying, “Hey, Drew,” like they were old friends.
“Hey, there.” He grinned at the easy-going nature of the boy. Janey had done a great job of raising him on her own after her husband’s death in a ferry fire. Drew had been one of the first on-scene, but the scuba cops had done the bulk of the work in getting survivors back to land, where Drew and his crew could then work on them. If Drew remembered right, Jess had been a baby when his father had died.
Dixie climbed up after Jess and pulled the door closed. She didn’t say anything, and Drew wondered what was bothering her. He wasn’t sure how to ask, so he put the truck in gear and headed toward the farm.
“Your mom’s asleep, so we’ll go see her after dinner,” he said, glancing over at the girl. Dixie barely nodded.
The elementary school sat south of Main Street, so he took the central vein out to the Lavender Highway that led north. “You guys want to stop and get a snack?” Duality came into view, and Drew’s mouth watered.
“Sure,” Jess said. Dixie said nothing.
Drew’s heart kicked out an extra beat as he turned into the parking lot. Everyone piled out, and Drew positioned himself next to Gretchen’s daughter. “What’d you do in music today?” he asked.
“We didn’t have music today.”
Hawthorne Harbor Box Set Page 6