by Siera London
Chapter 11
Two days ago, Hank had been the happiest man in the state of California. Now, he stood over a gaunt Kelby while she uploaded her resume onto multiple hiring boards. The kitchen counter was littered with interview books, printer paper, and sample letters of recommendation. Bradford had gotten into her head, especially since Mrs. Glatt refused to consider Kelby’s success with the children. Hank had a plan, if he could get Kelby to focus on something other than relocating, maybe they could discuss it. By the dark shadows under her eyes and the crease in her forehead, it didn’t look promising.
"Kelby, stop worrying,” he said for the hundredth time. Circling his arms around her and the chair, he dropped a kiss to her loose curls. “I can take care of us and your sister’s tuition.”
Hank had been working since his high school graduation. He’d kept his expenses low and his investments steady. The side jobs he and Luke tackled together were more lucrative than some people’s full-time job.
"I know you can, but you're not responsible for my sister. I am,” she said, voice insistent. “Our father entrusted that money to me, and I foolishly let a man take it from my hands like candy from a toddler.”
She needed to forgive herself; Tiffany had.
“Actually, toddlers are pretty strong and very stubborn.” He grabbed the chair back and spun her to face him. Gripping her shoulders, he pulled her up and into his arms. He crossed the floor in three strides, dropping to the couch with her across his lap.
“Kelby, you’re not leaving.” He tucked her head beneath his chin. “You explained the situation to Tiffany and she’s willing to help cover the cost of her tuition.”
"I don’t want that. My father worked his whole life, saving for our future, and I—,”
“So you’d rather leave me and Elliott?” Her head shot up, clipping his chin.
“Ouch,” he said, rubbing at the tender spot.
“Sorry,” she winced. “My choice is to stay with you, but—”
"No buts. I’m fighting for us. You do the same. I know honoring your father’s wish is important, but you’re not alone anymore. Guys like Bradford think they have the advantage. He doesn’t. I don’t scare easily, Kelby. So, he can’t run me off. In fact, print me a copy of your resume and let me take it to the university. I have some connections.”
She looked skeptical.
"I feel sick about this. Seriously, my stomach has been in knots all day."
He studied her features, looked her over from head to toe. “You sure that's all it is?"
"Yes," she touched his cheek. "Now who’s worrying?"
"I’ll continue to do so when my woman talks about leaving our home."
"Our home?”
"Yes, I want you to move in."
"Hank, people are already talking about us."
"Let them talk. I'm happy. Happier than I've been in years."
"Me too."
"I love you, Kelby."
“I know,” she sighed, rubbing his chest. “You could just take my mind off this,” she gave a mischievous grin.
He wasn’t deterred.
“Give me the resume, trust me to take care of you. And, I’ll do that too,” he whispered giving her bottom a squeeze. She was used to taking care of herself. But Hank had waited his whole life to find a wife who would love Elliott as her own. Kelby had filled that role without him asking. It had been second nature for her to give of herself.
“Hank,” she began.
He stopped her with a kiss. Her lips were soft and eager, her taste sweet with summer honey and vanilla. Kelby had cared for his son in the classroom, and now she’d brought love to their home.
He gave her a wink. “Would your dumpling lie to you?"
“Never,” she whispered.
“Then, let’s tell the mayor to kiss our—,” Kelby parted her legs and straddled his hips. He never finished his sentence.
Epilogue
Kelby hung her head in dismay as Elliott rubbed a comforting hand over her back for the third time. With both hands on her knees, she pushed to an upright position. Hank, down by the water, his green waders held up by suspenders, looked over his shoulder, watching her. Her body responded. Would she ever be able to control herself when he was near? She hoped not.
“Kelby why you keep gagging?” he asked.
Luke and Shiloh looked on from beside her. Hank had invited them for a fishing excursion, Kelby’s first-and quite possibly her last. Smells, especially, natural and earthy ones, had been flipping her stomach for weeks.
“Mi-iss Kelby,” five-year-old Shiloh stammered, her little pigtails bobbing as she spoke. “I could hug you like daddy hugged Mi-iss X-enobia.” Kelby breathing through her nausea turned wide eyes on a red-faced Luke. When had he been alone with Xenobia? An occasion her friend forgot to mention. “Or…or I could rub your tummy. Dad says it helps you be quiet and go to bed.”
Hank grinned. “Luke, breathe buddy. tt, why don’t you bait Kelby’s hook? That might help with her green gills.”
“Yes, sir.”
Moments later the fishing pole disappeared from her hand. Elliott’s adept little fingers grabbing a dirt-covered wiggly rope-like creature for her line. They’d been camped out on the banks of the American River since sunrise. Tiffany arrived in Endurance tonight and Hank wanted to impress her only family with a fresh grilled trout. Kelby had been craving red meat, but she didn’t mention that to Hank.
“Hank,” she called, wiping the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand, “I think I’ll make another trip to the port-a-potty and then catch up with my social media.”
Seems she and Xenobia had made quite a splash on N2U. Gordie had posted about the wedding, the deconstructed potato salad, and Hank’s country boy ass-kicking threat. Kelby had received several private messages requesting the recipe.
“Wait a minute,” he said, placing his rod in the portable rod holder. “I’ll help you climb up the embankment.”
She shook her head. He’d been especially attentive these past two months. Honestly, Kelby hadn’t done much, besides help with the repairs to her house and sleep. The renovation project had been more involved than Hank anticipated. Rotten wood, old pipes, and outdated wiring had Hank packing her bags and moving her few suitcases to his place. Elliott enjoyed their days together as a family, but Hank, he anxiously waited for their bedtime as lovers.
“I’m not helpless, just slow.” But she had put on a few pounds.
August fast approached and Kelby would start her new position as an early education professor at the University of California, Endurance. Hank still carpooled in with Luke for now, but the conversations would change with her in the backseat.
Hank swooped her up off her feet. “Nope. You’re mine and you’re pregnant.”
Kelby’s hands flew to her belly. “What?”
He laughed. “You’re the teacher. Do the math, woman.”
Was it even possible? She had tried for a year to conceive during her marriage. “I don’t want to hope. What if—“
Hank sobered. “You happy?”
She would be ecstatic if it were true. “Hank, I might not be.”
He grinned.
“You are, Kelby.” Using his thumb he tipped her head back, and looked into her eyes. “Answer me, you happy?”
She circled her arms around his neck. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, dumpling.”
“Then let’s get married.”
She sucked in a breath, believing what both her parents had wanted for her and Tiffany would come true.
“You’re serious?”
“As the last leg in the four-hundred-meter race. Besides Elliott, you’re the best thing to happen in my life.”
“Stay at the house with me and Elliott. We’ll fix up your place and then you decide where we’ll raise our family.”
“You’d do that for me?” He rolled his eyes heavenward, and she giggled.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “All
out of love for you—yes.”
She’d married the wrong man and stayed out of obligation to Tiffany and her dad’s memory. This time she would say, I do, all out of love.
“Yes, I’ll marry you, Hank.” He chuckled, and she grinned. “I love you, Dumpling.”
Second Chance Christmas
Second Chance Christmas
The Bachelors of Shell Cove
SIERA LONDON
ABOUT THIS BOOK
ZARI OKORO NEEDS A MAN. A not so friendly wager between sisters has the elementary school teacher scrambling to get a date to Christmas dinner or risk forfeiting her last paycheck of the year. With a cancelled eConnection date, a raging tropical storm at her heels, and a police mandate to seek shelter, Zari is running out of options.
Aron Walters has loved Zari since he laid eyes on her three years ago. When Tropical Storm Sebastian blows her into his pharmacy, he is thankful for the Christmas miracle that brought her to his doorstep. As the clock ticks closer to midnight, how will Aron convince Zari he’s worth the gamble a second time around?
Thank you Michele for answering your phone everyday for a month while I drafted this story. To Marilyn, Janet, and LaDonna, my first novella is a reality because you gave up a portion of your Thanksgiving holiday to read my manuscript and provide feedback. To Trevor Austin, thank you for your invaluable critique. Aron and Zari’s story is better because of you. To Rebecca Martin, you are a wonderful editor and a dear friend.
To my readers–
I’m forever grateful for your continued support. Thank you for sharing in this writing journey with me.
To my loving husband–
Thank you for always having my back. I adore you.
Preface
Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish.
–John Quincy Adams
Chapter 1
Zari Okoro needed a man. She moved deeper in the shadows, the click of her heels muffled by moisture on the cobblestoned sidewalk. The unnatural darkness that blanketed the usually well-lit streets of Shell Cove appeared cold, but the north Florida coastline rarely surrendered its warmth, even during a storm. If not for the rain pelting her face and the howling winds, the December evening would mirror any other day. A snapping sound rent the air and she froze as the palm trees lining the historic district yielded their strength to the will of Mother Nature. Shielding her face, Zari ducked as a garland-wrapped Christmas wreath tore away from the glass panel of Nana's Bakery and came hurdling toward her. How appropriate that a symbol of the sacred holiday would deal her a deathblow. Gripping the only thing she carried, Zari tucked her red sequined clutch underneath her arm, poor protection against the torrential storm. Glancing down at the metallic gold band around her wrist, the watch face read seven o'clock. She had five hours left to find him.
A police cruiser pulled along side Zari and stopped. The vehicle granted a temporary reprieve from the wind gusts. The slow grind of the passenger side window's descent was faint against the clanging of holiday bells attached to the lampposts. Steadying herself, she leaned forward, both hands gripping the car's doorframe for balance.
"You're a teacher for goodness sake. Do I have to lecture you on the dangers of ignoring tropical storm warnings a second time? Unless you have a life-threatening emergency you have to stay off the streets."
Zari appeared healthy, but her heart still held the shrapnel of love's betrayal. In a sense, this was an emergency–of the emotional sort. Her inability to secure one date in the past four weeks did little to mend the tattered organ.
"Zari, you are putting yourself at risk."
At the censure in Officer Bishop Carder's tone a thought occurred to her. If she struck now, Tabia's body could be buried beneath the Old Towne Christmas tree by midnight. Why was an educator to the future leaders of tomorrow, harboring thoughts of murdering her sister? Tabia had suckered her once again into an impossible wager.
"I know," she said, her eyes darting from Bishop's to the empty streets. "I know...I just need more time to find him," she whispered under her breath. Please God, let me find him in time. The dome bells attached to the cast-iron scroll lamp post rang out three times startling Zari.
When she was a girl, her mommy would tell a story of an angel earning her wings when a bell chimed three times. Zari wondered if there was any truth to the tale. She could use a guardian angel tonight. If her mother knew of her and Tabia's bet they both would be in dire need of divine protection.
Why had Zari agreed to wager her last paycheck of the year that she would have a date? Not just a date, but a doctor. Had she agreed to get a man to Christmas dinner, then she could have picked up Hobo Hank from the bench in the municipal park, hopefully before he reached the soup kitchen. Sure her car would smell extra zesty for a week, probably two, but she wouldn't be a pauper come the New Year.
Turning, she headed for the parking lot, but before she could step off the curb, the cruiser rolled backwards blocking her path. The passenger window came down once again.
"Where are you going?" Bishop asked. Impatience colored his words. The attitude factor had gone up tenfold.
"To wait out the storm in my car," she said in a huff. She was getting off the streets, what more did he want?
"Flood waters are expected. Get inside, Zari."
She had walked from ConLee's Asian Garden at the top of the block, past ScoopsUp ice cream parlor, and stood in front of the Cat's Meow Java Hut. Every shop that she passed was either closed for the holidays or due to inclement weather. Searching the row of historic storefronts on the next corner for any signs of occupancy, she froze at the illuminated, We’re Open sign in the Baker's Old Towne Pharmacy window. Hoping Bishop had overlooked the pharmacy, she gave a cursory glance in his direction. A lump of dread formed in the pit of her stomach at his stern expression.
"Go," he pointed in the last location she would ever consider a safe haven.
Her stomach pitched low, threatening to dislodge its meager contents. "I'll wait until you are inside."
In the not too distant past, Baker's had been a second home to her, an extension of her family. A connection she had hoped to make permanent. The last thing she would find in that pharmacy was shelter from the storm.
* * *
Aron Walters resented Christmas Eve. Not a single customer had entered the pharmacy in the past ninety minutes. His mother had called twice to remind him she didn't expect him to miss another Christmas dinner. His father had called to remind him that his mother had called twice and she better not have to call a third time. In all honesty, Aron's dark mood would cast a depressing shadow on anyone's dinner table. Thunder sounded with the boom of a firecracker, bouncing off the product-lined shelves, and his gaze flicked up to the wall-mounted television.
The news had been reporting the trek of Tropical Storm Sebastian across the panhandle for hours. Two thousand and fifteen had been the year for freak weather patterns. In May, Tropical Cyclone Ana made landfall along the Atlantic coast with winds up to sixty miles per hour. No one could have predicted another storm would occur in the offseason of the same year. He should close up shop and head home. Volunteering to serve as the pharmacist on duty, saved him from another lonely evening laid up in his condo watching ESPN reruns.
The employee's only phone rang out a festive tune. He reached across the Formica counter top and pulled it from its cradle.
"Happy holidays, Baker's Old Towne Pharmacy, how may I help you?"
The standard holiday greeting muttered for the hundredth time in the past four weeks. Thank the heavens the season of good tidings would come to an end in less than one week. The voice on the other end of the receiver had him stretching his eyes wide.
"Mr. Baker?" Theophilus Baker, Aron’s boss and owner of Baker's Pharmacy for over forty years rarely called. "What can I do for you?" He took a seat on the wooden stool behind the counter and listened patiently as the widower struggled to push the words ou
t around his oxygen mask.
"An emergency refill request from Dr. Masters?" Aron questioned, concern in his voice. Mr. Baker was nice most days, ornery everyday now that he was alone. His nurse had called Aron on more than one occasion complaining that he refused to open the door. "Do you need me to stop by your place after I close the store?"
Aron breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Baker said the medication refill was for a friend in his senior living complex.
"No problem, I'll delay closing the store since your friend is en route to pick up a prescription."
After wishing Aron a Merry Christmas the line fell silent. The last thing Aron wanted was to be called back into the pharmacy on Christmas morning. He didn't have plans outside of dinner with his family, but at the age of twenty-five he still had a hefty dose of seasonal cheer, just not for today. It was last Christmas Eve he had lost the single most important person to his existence. Twelve months later, his soul still hemorrhaged from the gaping hole her absence created in his life.
Lightening sparked across the sky filling the store with blinding white light. Aron was in for a long night. Tropical Storm Sebastian had arrived before his last customer. Alone with his thoughts he replayed the emptiness of the past year. Something had to change, but he couldn't see a future without her in it. God please bring her back to me. A bell rang three times in the distance and Aron prayed his wish would be granted.
Aron heard the chime of the front door opening a second before the store was plunged into darkness.
Chapter 2
Zari maneuvered around and across expanding water puddles in an attempt to save Tabia's sparkle fabric designer heels. She felt the steady onslaught of warm droplets pelting her bare legs before streaming between the intricate lacework of the shoes. Glancing over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes heavenward at the police cruiser stalking her down the sidewalk. Stupid eConnection date cancelled on her. That date was her last opportunity to snag a doctor for tomorrow. What kind of man cancelled after the date was supposed to have started? Less than five hours remained for her to secure the final piece in her Christmas miracle. She had to win–just this once. Instead of volunteering at the homeless shelter, Zari was well on her way of becoming a soup kitchen recipient. None of that matter this Christmas. There was more at risk than her financial well-being.
