“Shh.” Poppy looked through the doorway to the parlor where her grandmother and Lucy were having a cup of tea together. “You don’t want Lucy to hear. She’ll start planning the wedding.”
“Wedding?” Heather shoved to her feet. “Okay. Poke fun at Heather time is done.”
Cindy swallowed a laugh. “Interesting choice of words.”
“Grrr,” Heather rumbled. “You do remember why we’re all here tonight?”
“Yeah.” Callie nodded with a smile. “Do you?”
“Of course I do. Which is why we’ve got to get moving. Did the General get his kolackys?”
All the cousins nodded
“Good. What about his Irish coffee?”
“That too,” Cindy added.
“And,” Callie waved her thumb over her shoulder at Poppy, “Sis asked him about his new friends on the internet, so he’s all settled in and content on the veranda off the dining room.”
Veranda? An enclosed three season area of the wrap around porch, the space had a clear view of the Point. Good thing Heather knew now that the General had discovered social media only a foreign invasion could drag his attention away. “Then here we go.” She shot her arm straight out. “Ready?”
One by one a hand dropped onto the one underneath and the group chorused, ready, flinging their arms up in the air like a football team determined to mow down the opposition. Though she’d settle for getting a reading on heart rate and blood pressure. The rest of the battle she might need to bring in heavier hitters, but she’d save Grams until she needed her.
***
“Those girls are up to something.” Lucy strained to hear the conversation in the kitchen.
Fiona couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at her cheek. If raising three daughters had taught her anything, it was that no matter how old the girls grew, at some point or other they would always be up to something.
“It has to be something big to bring Heather here for this many days.” Lucy continued rolling Fiona’s yarn into a ball. “You don’t suppose she’s hiding a man, do you?”
This time Fiona laughed out right. “I don’t think her pockets are that large.” There was no point in feeding Lucy’s matchmaking whims with what she’d seen from the parlor a short while ago.
“You know what I mean.” Setting the large ball of yarn into the basket, Lucy grabbed the empty two liter pop bottle. “Something’s up. I know it is. I can feel it in my left knee.”
And folks said Fiona was the flighty one. If Lucy’s left knee hurt it meant one thing, if her right knee hurt it meant something else. If her ears were ringing, it meant something different, and heaven forbid her palms started itching. Fiona couldn’t keep track of which was what and she was pretty sure that neither could Lucy. Though this time, Lucy was right, she just didn’t realize she was on the wrong track.
“All I know,” Fiona spoke up, “is whatever brought Heather home, it’s nice having so many of the girls here at once.” It was kind of nice having a young man around the house too. Not that they didn’t have plenty of men as guests, or friends coming to play cards in the evening, but having another man at the dinner table laughing and teasing like one of the family was a pleasant change.
“You notice the way Jake looks at Heather?” Lucy stabbed at the clear plastic bottle with a pair of scissors and cut off the top.
Fiona kept her gaze on her knitting needles, every time she dared to look up she’d lose a stitch. Besides, she didn’t want to give anything away. “Can’t say that I did.” Well, maybe had she been closer she might have, but now wasn’t the time to say anything. Not yet.
“Of all the boys that hung around here with the girls like moths chasing a flame, I remember Jake being one of the more responsible ones.”
“Yes.” Fiona couldn’t argue. He’d been a good kid and when he’d come home from the Marines, he’d done a good job of taking care of his ailing parents.
“Kept my eye on him, making deliveries to Rebecca’s cabin these weeks. Grew up good and strong.”
Fiona nodded. She couldn’t argue that point either.
“If you ask me, it’s about time one of these girls showed some serious interest in a man. It’s been too long since we’ve had little ones in this big old house.” Lucy dropped the big ball in the base of the bottle.
Carefully pausing the interaction of the knitting needles, Fiona dropped the odd shaped blanket on her lap. “I must admit, it would do this heart good to see my girls happily settled with a good man they could grow old with, and little ones once again playing on the beach.”
“Yes, sirree,” Lucy waved a finger at her longtime employer, “and I think we’ve got ourselves a live possibility here. It just so happens I boxed up some supper leftovers for Jake. Think our Heather would be just the person to run them over to him so he’ll have them for lunch tomorrow. Yes sirree, indeed. Time to reel that man in.”
“Oh, Lucy,” Fiona smiled and picked up the needles again, “it’s not a fishing tournament. The girls will find the right man in due time. You just wait and see. Pretty soon, one by one, they all start finding their soul mates.” Though she did like Jake. He had good strong roots going back to both sets of grandparents.
Lucy strung the end of the yarn through the open bottle top. “I suppose that’s what happened with their mamas.”
“Exactly. Rebecca then Virginia and right on their heels my Marissa found their men. Good men.” Still, Fiona considered, maybe inviting Jake to another card game and then Sunday supper might not be a bad idea. After all, Heather might be a brilliant surgeon and loving granddaughter, but heaven help her, the art of romance did seem to escape her. Yes, the clacking of her needles picked up speed, cards and dinner were definitely in order. And maybe those leftovers weren’t a half bad idea either.
***
“Now isn’t this a pretty picture.” The General’s gaze skipped from one granddaughter to the next.
Heather knew exactly how a raw recruit must have felt. “This will only take a few minutes.” She reached for her grandfather’s wrist only to have him yank it back with more force than she’d expected. And she had anticipated a good deal of resistance. Maybe she should have had Jake stick around.
“Now General,” Cindy maneuvered herself to her grandfather’s other side, “you know how much we love you.”
“Yes.” Sitting on the floor, Poppy rested her hand on the older man’s knee. Her sparkling green eyes leveled with his, silently pleading her case.
For a few seconds, Heather spotted the softness in her grandfather’s eyes. Not that she believed the General had a favorite, but it was fair to say his youngest grandchild’s always sweet demeanor seemed to be his weakest link.
Unfortunately, the kink in his armor sealed up as quickly as it had opened. “You can show me how much you love me by believing me when I tell you I am perfectly fine.”
“Okay.” Heather crossed her arms. “Then why did you go see the doc?”
“Who told you that?”
“You did.”
The General’s bushy brows buckled together. Heather knew the exact second he remembered his slip on the phone the other day. “A checkup at my age is a perfectly normal thing.”
“Then humor me.” Heather put the stethoscope in her ears.
All she’d had time to do was blow her warm breath on the end before the General had patted Poppy on the head and pushed to his feet. “That will not be necessary, I am perfectly fine. I am also calling it a night.”
“General.” Callie positioned herself closer to Heather. “It will only take a minute, sir.”
Flanked on Heather’s other side and successfully blocking the General’s exit, Violet lifted her chin and stared into her grandfather’s eyes. “Please let Heather practice on you like she did when she was a kid.”
Behind the General, Cindy almost spit with laughter. No doubt the visions of the buzz cut muscleman general, bigger than Goliath to all of his grandchildren, wrapped in layers and
layers of toilet paper after having been bandaged by Heather flashed through her mind and everyone else’s. Even the General’s hardened stare seemed to soften.
The cousins had done their best to put forth a united front, but the second his gaze hardened again, Heather knew that stethoscope wasn’t coming another inch closer to her grandfather’s chest.
“Good night ladies.” Easily maneuvering around Violet, with two dogs on his heels, the General marched out of the room.
A rhythmic chant of left, right, left, right played silently in Heather’ head with the old man’s every step. “I’ve only got a few more days. We’re going to need a better plan.”
Lily stepped out from behind Cindy. “Maybe next time I should try rum cake for dessert. With extra rum.”
“Next time,” Heather blew out a breath, “maybe we really should call in the SEALs for backup.”
Cindy stood beside her. “Not sure that would help.”
No, Heather had to agree. Jake was right. No military man wants to argue with a general. Jake. The mere mention of the man’s name set her lips to humming again. And wasn’t that a whole different problem she didn’t need?
***
Living alone in the home he’d grown up in had never bothered Jake. Until now. Suddenly the house seemed very big—and very empty. Sitting alone at the kitchen table he stabbed at a piece of blueberry pie. His neighbor had baked it for him when he helped her till over the end of season soil in her vegetable garden. His mind wandered back through the years to times when the kitchen table was crowded with family friends. His mom loved company. In some ways she reminded him of Mrs. Hart. Oh, his mom was more practical and less worldly, but she loved fussing over and caring for people. After a couple of days at Hart House, he was beginning to realize he liked people too. Or maybe, one people in particular.
The ding from the doorbell snapped him out of his thoughts. Glancing up at the kitchen clock, it was an odd hour for visitors.
“Just a…” His words trailed off at the sight of Heather on his front porch. “Hi.”
Stretching out her arm, she handed him a paper shopping bag. “Lucy sent leftovers from dinner tonight. She’s convinced if you don’t have them for lunch tomorrow you’ll wither away.”
“If only Lucy knew.” He laughed and stepped away from the door. “Come on in. I was just having dessert.”
“Oh well, I don’t want to take up your time. It’s late.” Heather hesitated at the threshold, her gaze scanning the room.
“It’s not that late. I’d love some company.” She stepped into the house and he closed the door behind her. “Do you like blueberry pie? I have some apple too and there’s probably a cherry in the freezer.”
Her gaze continued to study the furnishings. “Um, yes I do, but I’m still full from dinner and Lily’s desserts.”
“I see. Well, let me put these in the refrigerator.” He waved for her to follow him into the kitchen.
“I have to admit,” she trailed after him, “this wasn’t what I expected.”
“Excuse me?” He kept an eye on her as he opened the refrigerator and shifted a few things around to make room.
“I was going to say the living room, but now your refrigerator is a bit of a surprise as well.” Her forehead pleated in thought. “You didn’t cook all this, did you?”
Closing the fridge door, he shook his head.
“And the doilies and blankets on the sofas and tables, those aren’t your mother’s, are they?”
He shook his head again.
Nodding, she turned to look at the living room. “Not much, huh?”
“Excuse me?”
“You told me that you don’t help neighbors all that much.” She waved her arm at the sofa and loveseat. One draped with the quilt Mrs. Hanson had given him last winter and the other with an afghan Mrs. Porter had knit. “I’m getting a different picture here.”
Not that he had anything to hide, but pretty much only he and Tom, and the folks they helped, knew just how much he did for the elderly and veteran community. He was darn fortunate to have a successful business that allowed him time and affordable supplies to do his share giving back. “I may have helped out a bit more here or there.”
One eyebrow shot up. “A bit?”
“A bit.” He nodded.
Her gaze studied him long and hard. “Is the coffee still warm?”
“You bet.” He could feel the smile pressing against his cheeks. “Sure I can’t talk you into some pie?”
“Not unless you want to roll me out of here. Being around Lily, I’ve been in perpetual sugar overload.” She watched him pour the black liquid into an old Bruins mug.
“How do you take it?”
“Regular.”
He nodded, and quickly added milk and sugar before handing it off to her. “It’s not as good as what Lucy makes, but it’s a close second.”
She wrapped her fingers around the mug. “Compared to what I’m used to I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.”
Rather than take a seat they stood side-by-side, backs to the counter. He liked standing close to her. Maybe a little too much. If only her life wasn’t in another city.
“I understand why you do it.”
He tightened his grip on his own mug. “I suppose you do. Fixing an old woman’s kitchen sink or building a wheelchair ramp for a former Marine isn’t quite the same as life-saving surgery, but the looks on their faces when I’m finished is worth everything.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” She raised her gaze from the mug to meet his. “What you do can be as much of a lifesaver as what I do.”
His heart rate kicked up a notch. Memories of their earlier kiss urging his hands to slip around her and pull her close. The warmth in her eyes drew him in like the proverbial moth to a flame. He wasn’t sure who shifted to face each other first, or when either of them had set their mugs on the counter. “Heather,” he whispered.
“Jake.” His name came out soft and low and completely irresistible.
Good, bad, or crazy idea, it didn’t matter anymore. In a flash, he’d pulled her against him and his mouth brushed against hers. Slowly, softly—perfectly.
Her arms snaked around his neck, her fingertips dancing along his skin, and his heart slammed double time against his rib cage. How he wanted to pull her closer, tighter. Not even the ringing sound could bring him to let go of her.
Ringing?
The bell tone sounded again and she retreated a step, her hands slipping to his waist and sliding away. “I have to answer this.”
His forehead dipped and he sucked in a steadying breath. “Of course.”
Turning her back, she slipped out of reach and slowly made her way into the living room. “Dr. Preston here.”
Breathing in and out slowly to still his heart, he didn’t know whether to thank the person on the other end of the line for stopping him from doing something they’d both regret in the morning, or strangle them.
Her free hand pinching the bridge of her nose, she nodded and responded something he couldn’t quite hear.
From her stiff stance, he had a feeling whatever was happening on the other end wasn’t good and could very easily be a matter of life and death. The brutal reality of what this woman did for a living smacked him in the chest.
“I’ll check in tomorrow.” Heather blew out a sigh and slowly slid her phone into her back pocket.
“Something wrong?”
She sighed. “Maybe. I did a delicate surgery a few days ago. I left instructions to inform me of any changes. Heart rate and respiration are elevated. Could be nothing. But if it is, I’ll be on my way back to Boston sooner than later.”
“I see.” For some inexplicable reason, pride bloomed deeper and stronger than if he’d been the one to save the patient’s life.
“I should probably get going.” She smiled tentatively.
Reluctantly, he bobbed his head. “Of course.”
Sucking in one more deep breath, he flung the front door op
en, and stepped to one side.
Heather crossed onto the porch and turned to face him. “Goodnight.”
“Night.” He didn’t dare move.
She took a step backward. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
He nodded. “Still have to paint.”
“Oh, yes. That’s right.” Still smiling, she spun around and hurried off to her car.
At the sight of her car zipping away from the curb, an odd sense of loss took up residence in the pit of his stomach. He should probably get used to it. A few more days and she’d be hurrying off for good.
Chapter Eleven
“Since there isn’t anything that needs painting here at the shop,” Tom looked from the painting supplies piled near the back door to his boss, “I’m guessing you’re not sticking around this morning.”
Jake’s head whipped up from the last tidbit of paperwork he needed to complete before escaping for the day. “Davey will be here in about another half hour. Wants to put in some extra hours, see if he can get some more savings for next semester.”
Tom nodded and Jake knew the man was thinking something else. Something he wasn’t ready to say.
“Spit it out.” Jake tossed the pen on the desk.
Lips pressed tightly in a thin line, Tom nodded more to himself than anyone in the room. “You know I’m as willing as the next guy to help a neighbor in need.”
Jake dipped his chin in curt agreement. For as much as Tom occasionally razzed him over all the homemade casseroles in the freezer, the doilies covering every wooden surface at his house, and the knit blankets scattered and stored in every room and closet, Jake knew Tom had done his share of good-neighbor repairs not only in Lawford, but in surrounding communities as well. There were plenty of veterans who needed a leg up.
“Well,” Tom continued, his hand clutching the back of his neck, “you’ve been out helping every day this week.”
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