He didn’t hear much after the word sexy as heat seemed to crawl up his skin.
“Can we see the pictures?” Will asked.
“Sure. I’ve already picked a couple of my favorites.”
She sank onto one of the benches set out around the garden center and his nephews clustered around her, Charlie on her lap and the other two peering over each shoulder as she showed them pictures on the camera’s screen.
Cooper couldn’t look away from the picture she made, tanned, glowing, happy.
“That’s a good one of Uncle Coop,” Ryan said with a grin. “He looks like Captain America with dark hair in that one. Show him.”
Olivia dutifully held up the camera. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see from his angle, so he had to move until he was standing right behind her, close enough to smell that apple shampoo.
He never should have danced with her, damn it. What had he been thinking? He would have been fine, if he had never made the mistake of holding her in his arms.
Right now, he wanted to reach under that messy bun and kiss the back of her neck.
He stepped away quickly, before he could do something absolutely stupid.
“Looks like a regular guy buying plants to me.”
“I think they’re perfect. I have a feeling Rosemary will love them, too. I’m sending them to my phone now so I can edit and upload them.”
“So we’re done here?”
“I think so.”
“Right on time,” he said as he spotted Melody approaching them.
“Hi, Mom!” Charlie said, beaming at her from Olivia’s lap. And why wouldn’t he be?
“Sorry about that, guys. I was helping Mr. Cragun with his order. His huge, five-figure, more-than-I-make-in-six-months order.” She looked exuberant, as if she wanted to start dancing among the aisles of flowers.
Olivia fist-bumped her, which resulted in all the boys holding up their fists, too. “Good job, Mel! You win the sales associate of the day.”
“Is that really a thing?” Melody asked. “Because if it’s not, it should be. And I should definitely win it.”
“It is today. Way to go.”
Olivia’s enthusiasm was genuine. She was a good friend to Melody and sincerely seemed to want to help her regain some of the confidence that had been gutted by that bastard Rich Baker.
“Way to go, Mom,” Charlie said, clearly not knowing what they were talking about but not wanting to be left out.
“Thanks, kiddo. It was pretty cool. I can’t wait to see the landscaping job he’s doing down the coast. It sounds spectacular.”
She looked over the wagonful of plants. “Wow. You obviously found some good things for the firehouse garden.”
“Yeah. I think we’re all set.”
“For your information, you’ve already got twenty likes in about thirty seconds,” Olivia informed him. She had uploaded something already? Apparently. Her smile of delight left him more than a little uncomfortable.
“Well, people obviously are bored tonight.”
“Either that or I take really great pictures and know what human interest angles people will love.”
“That’s so cool,” Melody exclaimed.
“We’re going to be celebrities,” Will said, puffing out his chest.
Olivia laughed and it was like the sun bursting through dark clouds after a rainy day, full of light and joy and hope. Something stirred in his chest and he wanted to stare at her all day.
“You’re already celebrities, as far as I’m concerned,” she said. “But now the rest of the town can see how awesome you guys are.”
“Now the only thing left to do is plant them,” Melody said. “I’m working in the morning, but maybe I can come over when I’m done and help you put them in the ground.”
“We can help, too,” Charlie offered.
“As long as you think that will get us more likes,” Ryan said, with a worried look.
“Here’s a little free advice, kid,” Cooper said. “You should never be worried about how many likes you’re getting but on the life you’re creating.”
“You should put that on a T-shirt,” Olivia said.
“Yeah,” Will said with a mischievous grin. “Then we can put it up online and I bet you would get a million likes.”
Cooper laughed and tugged down Will’s baseball cap so it covered his eyes. One of the best things about coming back to help Melody had been getting to know these boys as individuals. He had always stayed in touch with emails, text messages and video calls, but interacting with them every day brought an entirely new dimension to their relationship. He loved Will’s boldness and his funny sense of humor, Ryan’s overriding sense of concern for his mother and brothers, Charlie’s infectious joy in life.
“Maybe I will make T-shirts. And you can be the first one to wear one.”
“Okay,” Will said. “As long as Olivia takes my picture and puts it online.”
“You got it,” she said with a smile that again made Cooper want to kiss her.
“Come on,” he said instead to the boys. “Let’s go pay for these before the place closes or we might have to spend the night sleeping in the rows between the plants.”
“I happen to know the family who runs the place,” Olivia said. “I bet somebody would at least cover you with dirt to keep you warm.”
All the boys giggled at that and even Cooper couldn’t hide his smile. It slipped away when he caught Melody gazing between him and Olivia with growing speculation in her eyes that sent sudden panic flaring through.
Oh no. If Mel had any idea that he was interested in Olivia, that they had shared a heated kiss after her birthday party, she would be thrilled and would do her best to throw them together at every opportunity.
He had to figure out a way to head her off. While he wanted his sister to focus her attention on something besides her divorce and her sleazy ex-husband, he did not need Melody to decide to meddle and matchmake between her brother and her best friend.
“I would love to put up some follow-up photos of you guys actually planting the garden,” Olivia said. “That will definitely keep people engaged, especially everybody who is liking today’s posts, and remind them again of the fund-raiser. When do you think you’ll put in the plants?”
He sighed. “A day or two. I’m not sure.”
“Well, keep me updated so we can do another push for the fund-raiser before Saturday. Then maybe in a week or so we can put up a photo of something you or one of the other firefighters has cooked using some of the herbs you planted.”
“Sure. You can follow us all summer as we pull weeds and water and pick the tomatoes.”
“I might do that,” she said, undeterred by his sarcasm. “For now, I’ll stick with taking pictures of you planting the garden. Later, we can come up with a strategy for the rest of the year.”
He wasn’t sure if she was joking or serious. He supposed it didn’t really matter. Right now, he couldn’t seem to think beyond the fact that he would at least get to see her again in a few days.
22
JULIET
She was a lousy patient.
That was a rather humbling realization for a woman in her fifties to discover about herself but was nevertheless the absolute truth.
Juliet shifted position on the recliner where the physical therapist had returned her when he left an hour earlier.
She hadn’t been very nice to the poor man. The memory made her cringe. She should have been more cooperative. He was only trying to help her heal. Instead, she had been sarcastic and sharp, especially after he had suggested she was perhaps not giving her all to her recovery.
Something about his patronizing tone had made her want to yank his ID badge off and shove it into his flapping cake hole.
The man was two decades younger than she was and obviously fit. He
probably subsisted on only tofu and kale. He had no idea how hard these exercises were for her. She was trying her best but everything was harder. In addition to multiple broken bones, she had a serious neurological disease.
Her multiple sclerosis complicated everything, especially her confidence in herself. She hated that part, the little creeping doubts that had begun to take over.
She had always told herself she could learn to live with her diagnosis and handle her disease with grace and dignity. She had met others online who were dealing with their symptoms superbly. Many of them had been in remission for years and were using a combination of diet and exercise to stay as healthy as possible for as long as possible.
She wanted to be among that group. Many, like her, had chosen not to reveal the diagnosis, at least to coworkers and associates. Most had valid reasons. Inevitably, when someone announced they had a serious condition, the ripple effect included workplace discrimination, relationship problems, social stigma.
She still wasn’t sure if her decision not to tell Caitlin and Olivia about her condition had been correct. When she had been diagnosed four years earlier, after suspecting something was wrong for several months before that, she had been shell-shocked and told herself she needed time to come to terms with it herself before she told them. And then Olivia had been at a transitional time in her life, dating the man she would later become engaged to and starting a new job with a new apartment, and that hadn’t seemed right, either.
How could Juliet mar her daughter’s newfound happiness by telling her she had been diagnosed with MS, especially when she had still been adjusting herself?
Because she didn’t want Olivia to know, she hadn’t felt right about telling Caitlin, either. Her granddaughter had enough worries in her life and she knew Caitlin well enough to be certain her granddaughter would turn clingy and overprotective.
In her heart, Juliet knew those were simply excuses. She hadn’t wanted people to know about her multiple sclerosis because she didn’t want them feeling sorry for her.
She had found it unbearably difficult to be branded the sad young widow in town after Steve’s untimely death. She had hated the pitying looks she would see in other people’s faces, the awkward, uncomfortable gaps in conversation in social situations, the way some of her friends had dropped away because they hadn’t known what to say to her.
That pity was only magnified after Natalie’s overdose.
She could have told Olivia and Caitlin about her MS at any time in the past four years. She still wasn’t sure why she had been so fiercely determined to keep it to herself. Pride, maybe? Or was it simply habit?
Olivia didn’t need another burden to carry. Juliet knew it was hard enough for her to leave her job in Seattle to come back and help her recovery. She absolutely didn’t want her to feel obligated to move home permanently.
Guilt twisted through her. She should just tell everyone and be done with things. She wouldn’t be able to keep her MS a secret forever anyway.
If nothing else, she would at least have to tell Henry, especially if he persisted in thinking they could have some kind of relationship.
She was going to miss his friendship so dearly.
She didn’t want to think about the Henry-shaped hole that would be left in her life without him in it. He had brought so much laughter and joy these past few years.
She loved being with him, no matter what they did. Taking a walk on the beach with his dog leading the way. Working in her garden together. The quiet, simple winter evenings when she would pop a batch of popcorn and they would watch a movie with the kids.
Otis scampered over and put his front legs up on the recliner, holding his furry little face close to her. He was so very gentle around her, careful not to nudge her or wander across her path when she was using the walker or the crutches, as if he knew she was fragile right now and needed only love and support from him.
Why couldn’t Henry take a lesson from the dog? She sighed.
“Do you need to go out?”
Otis gave her a look she clearly interpreted as an affirmative answer. Taking him out had become her biggest exercise during the day, the one time she made a concerted effort to use the crutches. He was trained to use a puppy pad but seemed to like a certain patch of grass in one corner of her yard.
It was good for her to have to move, even when it was hard. All the literature Dr. Adeno gave her said she should change positions at least every forty-five minutes.
She carefully went through the ordeal of standing up with the walker, then laboriously headed through the kitchen to the back door. As slowly as she moved, it was a good thing the dog seemed to have a patient bladder or there would be accidents throughout the house.
The pain had eased over the past week. It was always there but more like a dull throb than the piercing agony of the previous week.
She had become good at ignoring it and she was more grateful than she could say that she had spent the past four years since her diagnosis building muscle tone. If not for that, she feared she would have suffered a far more debilitating injury.
Otis was eager to go out, dancing around in front of the door.
“Give me a minute,” she told him. With the crutches under her arms, she reached to open the door and he was out into the fenced backyard in a flash.
The words of the PT seemed to ring in her ear, that the harder she pushed herself, the sooner she would be able to return to her life.
She wanted to be back at work. She missed the garden center so much, she ached. The doctor had said maybe if she felt strong enough, she could return to part-time work after another week or so. With that in mind, she pushed herself to walk back from the kitchen at the rear of the cottage all the way to the front door. Still feeling good, she opened the front door, thinking she would sit out on the porch to rest for a moment before she had to go let the dog back in.
Outside, the afternoon was glorious, with high puffy clouds in an otherwise spectacularly blue sky. She breathed in the sea air and listened to the gulls wheeling and diving, then began to make her way to one of the porch chairs.
She made it to the chair, then started to shift her weight so she could back down into it. She knew in an instant something was wrong. One of the crutches caught on an all-weather area rug she had put out here and started to slide in the wrong direction.
Her balance was off. She didn’t know if it was the MS or the crutches or the hip injury. She only knew she was going down and wasn’t going to hit the chair.
She shifted at the last minute so her other hip took the brunt of the fall to the porch floor. Pain still smacked her hard, stealing her breath and bringing tears to her eyes. Shocked and dazed, she gave in to the tears and the pain as bruises that had begun to fade from her original fall off the ladder reminded her they were very much still there and still sore.
Gradually, she knew she was going to have to get up. She couldn’t lie here on the porch in a crumpled heap all afternoon. Especially not when Otis was beginning to bark in the backyard to come in and would be wondering why she was leaving him out there.
She shifted positions and only then did she realize what a fix she was in.
She couldn’t possibly lift herself from the ground in her current state—not when she couldn’t put her full weight on her left hip.
Shoot. What was she going to do? She didn’t want to call Olivia. Her daughter still seemed convinced Juliet needed someone here all day with her and this would provide fuel to her argument. Caitlin was in school. She couldn’t call her. Maybe one of Juliet’s friends could come by. Or she could call Cooper and have him send one of his cute firefighter friends over.
She reached inside the pocket of her sweater for her phone and had the horrifying, sickening realization that she must have left it beside the recliner earlier, when she got up to put the dog out. Now what? If she couldn’t call for help,
she simply would have to get up on her own. She could not spend the afternoon here, with pain still throbbing through her.
She was trying to twist herself into a position so that she could use the chair behind her for leverage when she heard a vehicle pull up. An instant later, Henry was racing toward the porch, a horrible look of fear on his features.
“Juliet! Good Lord. What are you doing? What happened?”
Though it had only been maybe five minutes since she fell, it felt like forever. She sighed, mortified that, of all the people in town who might have driven by and seen her predicament, Henry had to be the one who came to her rescue.
“Don’t make any jokes, but I really did fall and couldn’t get back up.”
“I’m afraid to move you. Should I call the paramedics? Did you hurt anything?”
“Only my pride. Who knew I had any left? I didn’t have my phone to call for help and was just trying to figure out how to get back up on my own when you pulled up. I just need a helping hand.”
In answer, he reached down and lifted her effortlessly, pushed open the door and carried her inside.
“Bed or chair?”
“Wheelchair. It’s in the kitchen. Thank you. But you don’t have to carry me. I can walk.”
Kind of.
“Be quiet,” he ordered, and carried her through the house to the wheelchair, where he lowered her down with a tenderness that made her throat ache.
“How long were you on the floor?”
“Not long. Maybe five minutes. I got yelled at by the physical therapist today for not pushing myself hard enough, so I decided to go a little farther on the crutches.”
“Why isn’t someone here with you?”
“I don’t need a babysitter. For the most part, I’m able to get around. I can get in and out of my chair, the bed, the bathroom and can go into the kitchen for something to eat. Olivia checks on me during the day and usually sends someone from the garden center over, too. I knew if I waited out there long enough, someone would come.”
The Sea Glass Cottage Page 22
