by Laura Scott
“We shouldn’t do this,” Carla whispered.
Jesse tried not to sigh. “Why not? I care about you, Carla.”
She pushed away from him. “Like you did the blonde?”
“I told you I barely remember her.” He tried to keep the edge from his tone. “I know it’s my fault. I mentioned getting together over homecoming, then never followed up on the invite. And I can admit, I went a little crazy those early weeks of college. Madison is known to be a party school. But it wasn’t long until I turned my back on all of that. I buckled down and worked hard to maintain my grades. I graduated with honors.”
“I know, and I’m happy for you.” Carla hunched her shoulders and turned to stare out over the water. “I just don’t think we should rush into anything.”
He wasn’t sure what she meant by that. Did she not feel the same way toward him as she once did? His heart squeezed in his chest, and he wondered if this was how Carla had felt watching him with the blonde he couldn’t even remember.
Especially when he hadn’t even followed through on his invite to have her come up for a visit. No wonder she was so upset with him.
“Carla, I don’t want to rush you, but tell me this—how much of your resistance is because you don’t care about me the way you used to versus your mother’s deep hatred for every one of the McNallys?”
She didn’t answer for a long moment, still staring off at the sunset. “The letter your dad wrote to Lucy should help my mother back off and get over some of her hatred toward your father, but if you want me to be honest with you”—she paused, then turned to face him—“it’s me. I don’t want to be hurt the way I was before.”
He wanted to kick his younger self in the seat of the pants all the way to Kalamazoo. “I’m sorry I hurt you. That was never my intention.”
Her smile was sad. “But the end result is still the same.”
A flutter of panic curled in his belly. “Please, Carla, give me a second chance. I am not the same irresponsible guy you spent the summer with nine years ago.”
“And I’m not the same naïve girl,” she responded. “I have Cassie’s future to think about. Any relationship between us will have an impact on her, and I don’t want her getting her hopes up that we’re going to be some sort of cozy family.”
Since that was exactly what he wanted, he held his tongue and tried to help her understand. “I don’t want to hurt Cassie either. Or your mother for that matter. I just want a chance with you.”
“I think you’re letting the heat of summer cloud your judgment,” she said on a sigh. “Right now, you’re off work and have all day to spend with me and Cass packing picnics, taking boat rides. But this isn’t reality, Jesse. Once you’re off traveling for work and I’m still managing the store, you’ll see that all of this”—she waved an impatient hand—“isn’t real. Just like our summer together nine years ago wasn’t real.”
“It was real to me.” The minute the words left his mouth, he wanted to call them back.
“You stopped calling, stopped writing, and didn’t return my phone call at the beginning of October.” She ticked the items on the fingers of one hand. “And when I came to visit you as you’d mentioned, you weren’t there for me because you’d moved on. That is the reality, Jesse. Not the young love we once shared, but the harsh aftermath.”
Meaning leaving her pregnant and alone with a baby daughter.
“We were young,” he agreed. “And I was selfish, focused only on my future.” A degree Carla hadn’t been able to obtain, which really bothered him. “But that’s what I’m trying to say. I’m not that same guy. And I like to think that if I’d known about Cassie, I would have stepped up and taken responsibility.”
“Yes, well, that’s all water under the bridge.” She glanced past him to where the McNallys were still gathered beneath the gazebo. “We should get back. It’s getting late, and I have to work early in the morning.”
“Okay.” He agreed, because really, what choice did he have? Carla wasn’t on vacation the way he was, which sort of proved her point. This idyllic time they had wasn’t how things would be every day in the future.
Just the thought of flying home to Chicago on Sunday filled him with dread. He wasn’t ready to go. To leave. Spending time away from Carla and Cassie would be unbearable.
As they strolled back to the B&B, he thought about contacting his partner again. Brian had been relieved when Jesse had fixed the Trojan horse virus that infected their software. But he hadn’t been as thrilled to hear of Jesse’s plan to relocate to McNally Bay. Brian had pointed out all the issues Jesse was already aware of, that traveling out of a smaller airport wouldn’t be nearly as convenient as Chicago and that they still needed to meet monthly to go over their operating income statements.
Small hurdles in his opinion. Brian needed to know that his traveling days were going to be far less than they had been. If Jesse could swing it financially, he’d prefer to cut his travel time in half.
Brian wouldn’t like it, but too bad.
A few years ago, they had talked about the possibility of bringing another employee into their company. Clearly, the time to do that was now. Their services were still in high demand, and there would be more than enough income to go around.
With a sense of relief, he decided to broach the subject with Brian as soon as he returned to Chicago.
Taking action, doing something positive was the best way to prove to Carla how much he still cared about her.
How much he loved her.
It took all of Carla’s willpower not to sprint back to the gazebo, sweep Cassie in her arms, and hightail it out of there as fast as she could.
Too much. It was all just too much.
Jesse’s kisses had a way of messing with her mind. She couldn’t think rationally around him, and she needed to keep a cool head.
She’d told herself she wasn’t going to be sucked in by his charm and charisma the way she had nine years ago. Yet one kiss and her resolve had drifted off over the lake like an early morning fog.
“Hey, Cass, it’s time to go,” she called as they reached the gazebo.
“Aw, Mom, we’re just about to make s’mores! And the fireworks are going to be starting soon.”
She sighed, having forgotten all about the fireworks. And she should have anticipated dessert.
Jemma looked distressed. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you first, but the grill is still hot enough to roast marshmallows. And the fireworks will start at dark.”
“It’s fine. Sure, we can stay long enough for you to make a few s’mores and watch the fireworks.” Just what she needed, more time to sit beside Jesse.
“Thanks, Mom!” Cassie and Trey both had found long sticks to use for their marshmallows, and her daughter was helping her young cousin with putting them on the end of the stick. “Okay, now come stand by me, Trey. Not too close, it’s going to feel hot.”
Watching her daughter care for Trey was humbling. It only proved what she’d already known, it wasn’t much fun being an only child.
“She’s a good kid,” Jesse said softly. “You did a wonderful job raising her.”
The job wasn’t over by a long shot, but she appreciated his comment. “Thanks. And you need to know my mom helped me out a lot. She helped with childcare when Cassie was young, gave me a job at the store.” She sent him a sidelong look. “Something you need to keep in mind. Cassie is a well-adjusted kid primarily because of my mom’s support.”
Jesse nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sorry to hear about your dad’s passing. What happened?”
She hesitated. “Heart attack.”
Jesse winced. “I’m sorry. I’m sure that wasn’t easy for either one of you.”
“It wasn’t.” And that was the biggest understatement of the decade. This wasn’t the time or the place to talk about exactly how and when her father had died.
“See, then when the marshmallow is golden brown, we put it on the graham cracker and square of chocolate lik
e this.” Cassie showed Trey. “Then we make a sandwich.”
“Yummy,” Trey said, reaching for a s’more.
“Careful, it might still be hot.” Cassie handed the first s’more to Trey, then made one for herself.
The fireworks began a short while later. They all moved out from under the gazebo so they could watch the display high over Lake Michigan.
Sitting on the grass with Cassie between them was bittersweet. She was glad to share this with Cassie but wished her mother could have been there, too.
As soon as the fireworks ended, with a rousing round of applause, Carla stood. “Okay, Cass, it’s time to go.”
“Aw, Mom, I want to stay.” The familiar stubborn glint flashed in her daughter’s eye. “Trey is still up, and he’s younger than me.”
“I can bring her home later,” Jesse offered.
“No.” She glared at him for a moment, silently warning him to back off. “I’m sorry, but it’s time to go. Thank Aunt Jemma, Uncle Garth, Aunt Jazz, and Uncle Dalton for the party.”
Cassie glared at her for a moment, then relented. “Thank you for the party,” she said. “I’m so glad to know I have aunts and uncles and a cousin!”
“We’re thrilled to have you, too.” Jemma pulled Cassie into a quick hug, then Jazz did the same. “I hope we’ll see you again very soon, Cassie.”
Cass looked as if she was walking the plank of a pirate ship as she came toward Carla. Really, the kid might have a career in acting based on the exaggerated drooping shoulders and sad face.
“Oh, don’t forget your salad bowl.” Jemma quickly picked it up off the table. “There isn’t much left I’m afraid, but thanks again for bringing it.”
“The party was fun.” She liked Jemma and Jazz a lot. Under different circumstances, they could easily grow into close friends. “Thanks again for inviting us.”
“You’re both welcome any time,” Jazz assured her. “Family takes care of family, right?”
Her smile was sad as she thought of her mother. And her strained relationship with her father. “Right.”
Jesse walked her and Cassie around the house to the parking area in front of the house. “Would you be willing to have lunch with me again tomorrow?”
“Um, sure.” She didn’t want to say no in front of Cassie. “At the diner?”
“No, I was thinking we’d go for a drive out of town. Have another picnic.”
She wanted to refuse but understood that Jesse’s week of vacation time was almost up. Why not enjoy it? “Sounds good.”
“Can I invite my friend Alecia?” Cassie asked. “And can we go swimming this time?”
“Sure,” Jesse agreed. Then he backtracked and added, “If your mom says it’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” A little late, she thought with a sigh. Jesse had to understand he couldn’t keep undermining her authority. Cassie was a good kid now, but those dreaded teenage years weren’t that far off.
“Great, I’ll pick you up at the store at noon.” Jesse opened the car door for her. “Thanks for coming.”
She set the mostly empty salad bowl on the back seat, then slid in behind the wheel. With a little wave, she backed out of the McNally driveway and drove home.
Cassie chatted about Trey and Goldie and how lucky her cousin was to have a dog of his own, once again putting in a bid for a puppy. Even being reminded of how she was earning money to take care of Bucky didn’t seem to distract her.
Her daughter’s mood didn’t improve once they were home. Cassie stomped off into the bathroom, muttering that it wasn’t fair she had to go to bed earlier than her not-yet four-year-old cousin. And her mother wasn’t speaking to her either, pretending to be engrossed in a murder mystery when Carla knew full well she hadn’t turned a single page since they’d come inside.
Once she’d convinced Cassie to brush her teeth and get ready for bed, she approached her mom with the phone.
“I have something to show you.”
For a moment, she thought her mother wasn’t going to respond, but she finally lifted her gaze. “What?”
“The McNallys found a letter in the attic that was written by Justin to Lucy.” She held out the phone with the letter blown up on the screen. “I think you should read it.”
Her mother stared at the phone as if it were a huge hairy spider, but curiosity finally won out over disgust, and she took the device and read the short note.
“How do you know it’s real?” her mom finally asked.
“I’ll get the original to show you, but trust me, it’s old and brittle, the ink faded on the page. Jemma found the letter tucked into the family Bible in the attic. They have no reason to lie, Mom. They didn’t know anything about Lucy or her death until they stumbled across the letter.”
Her mother thrust the phone back into her hand. “Have you told Jesse what happened to your father?”
“Not yet.” Carla frowned. “So that’s it? You see with your own eyes how much Justin cared about Lucy, but you still want to hate Jesse?”
Her mother jumped up from the chair, the book falling to the floor with a soft thud. “He’s the reason your dad is gone,” she spat in a low, furious tone. “I’m just supposed to forgive him? For everything he’s done?”
“Yes.” Carla faced her mother. “You are. Because my having Cassie isn’t all Jesse’s fault, and frankly, this ridiculous grudge against the entire family has to stop.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, young lady.” Her mother didn’t back down. “My feelings are my business.”
“So, you hate me now, too? Because I was the one who was there when Dad died. My telling him about being pregnant caused his heart attack. I was the one who tried to do CPR to keep him alive. If you’re going to hate Jesse because of the role he played, then you must feel the same way about me.”
“I’m going to bed.” Her mother pushed past her, but Carla grabbed her hand to stop her.
“This is as much about Cassie as anything,” she insisted. “Cassie is a McNally by blood. She has an extended family, including a young cousin that she’s thrilled about. Don’t do this, Mom. Don’t keep up this level of hate. It will only turn against you in the long run.”
Her mother went still, before roughly jerking away. She left the room, leaving Carla standing there feeling helpless.
Her hope of turning her mother’s attitude around was proving futile. Carla knew she got her own redheaded stubbornness from her mother, but this was ridiculous. It was as if the older woman refused to listen to reason.
Carla was so upset she couldn’t relax, much less try to go to sleep. She slipped outside and began to walk in an effort to burn off the anger, sadness, and regret.
Without realizing it, she found herself down on Main Street where dozens of people were still milling about, many having watched the firework display and were either heading home or heading to the Bombay Pub and Grill located at the west end of the street, catty-corner from Gino’s.
Someone roughly grabbed her arm, and her stomach knotted when she saw Dean Thomas standing beside her. Well, he was swaying more than he was standing, and she wrinkled her nose at the stench of alcohol seeping from his pores.
“Can’t even say hi anymore?” Dean slurred his words to the point she had trouble understanding him.
“I didn’t see you.” She tried to shake off his grasp, but his fingers tightened painfully on her forearm. “Let me go, Dean. You’re drunk.”
“Had a couple of shots at Bombay,” he admitted. More than a couple by the looks of him. Under the light from the streetlamp, she could see his eyes were red and bloodshot.
“Let me go,” she repeated, raising her voice. She wasn’t really afraid of him; there were plenty of people around. “You need to move on, Dean. Find someone else. A woman who can care about you the way you deserve.”
“I loved you, Carla.” He still hadn’t released her, and she was getting super annoyed with him. “How could you turn your back on me?”
There was n
o point in arguing with a drunk, so she tried to pry his fingers off her arm. “Let me go or I’ll call the police.”
He staggered, and the shifting of his weight caused him to lean closer. She tried not to gag at the horrible stench of his breath.
She wished Jesse was there with her to help deal with Dean. But he was back at the McNallys’ B&B.
Anger bubbled up inside her. “Get away from me!” She brought her knee up to his groin, then shoved him as hard as she could. He let her go, bending over with a low moan, then went down, hitting the cement sidewalk with a jarring thud.
“Hey, are you all right?” A woman she didn’t recognize came over to her side. “Should we call the police?”
“I’m fine.” She rubbed the spot on her forearm where Dean had clung to her, knowing she’d have bruises in the morning. “But yeah, I think we should call the police. Not only did he try to assault me, but he’s drunk and shouldn’t be driving.”
“I’m on it.” The tourist pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911.
Deputy Waldorf was there in less than five minutes. She took Carla’s statement, along with Naomi’s who was the bystander who’d come to her rescue. Hearing the same story from both of them had Deputy Waldorf hauling Dean into her squad to take him to jail.
Carla watched them drive away, glad he wouldn’t be a problem for a while.
But when he got out of jail? She shivered. If he was mad at her now, he’d likely be furious with her once he’d sobered up.
And she knew it was highly likely Dean would take his anger out on her daughter once school started in the fall.
12
Jesse woke up Friday morning, feeling depressed that he only had two more days to spend with Carla and Cassie before he needed to head back Chicago.
He didn’t want to go. Deep down, he couldn’t help feeling that if he left, he’d lose some of the ground he’d recently gained with Carla. Not to mention, he liked seeing his daughter every day.
Could he stay? He turned the idea over in his mind. Jemma had assured him the master suite in the B&B was his for as long as he needed it. The arrangement wasn’t perfect, but it was better than being a hundred miles away. Why not take her up on the offer?