Christmas on the Coast

by Lee Tobin McClain

  It was the first time the two of them had been together solo, but the conversation flowed and Amber soon found herself telling Mary some of what was going on with her. “I’m wanting an adventurous life,” she lamented, “but because of my health, I have to stay close to home for a while.”

  Their drinks came and they both took long draws, and then Mary patted her hand. “I’m sorry you can’t take off traveling like you want to. But you know what Proust said? ‘The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.’”

  Mary was really smart, and it made sense that she was well-read, given that she owned a bookstore. Amber took another delicious sip. “The problem with the whole seeing with new eyes thing is that I see this hot family man, with nasty relatives and a troubled kid and problems of his own. That’s the kind of close-to-home adventure I can do without.”

  “And I’m guessing that’s exactly why Paul’s parents were questioning your presence. They can see the way he looks at you and they don’t like it.”

  “You really think he’s looking at me that way?” Amber asked, and then felt embarrassed that she’d blurted out the question. “Not that it matters,” she added. “And they’re his late wife’s parents, not his.”

  “Even more understandable they’d be resistant to you.” Mary beckoned to the waitress and ordered fried shrimp and clams for them to nibble on. “He looks at you like forbidden fruit. Tempting and way too appealing.”

  “Right? It figures.” Amber sighed. “I’ve always been that girl, the one men chase after for a fling, but don’t bring home to mama.” She shrugged. “I’ve come to terms with it. Sometimes, it’s a blessing.”

  “With as fun and funny as you are, a man would be lucky to have you in his life, and so would his mama for that matter,” Mary said. “But I can’t blame you for wanting to keep your distance. Every problem I’ve ever had came from a man.”

  Amber stirred her drink with her straw. “Yeah, they’re trouble. But of course they flock around you. You’re gorgeous.” She wasn’t exaggerating, either. Mary was model thin, with shiny white-gray hair that fell below her shoulders in waves that looked natural. She dressed simply but stylishly, mostly in white or gray, and she had that knack of adding a pop of color—red shoes, or a bright pink scarf—that made her look Parisian-chic. Her eyes were sharp and usually sparkling with a joke or a plan.

  As if to confirm her judgment, a man Amber knew vaguely, Henry Higbottom, came to lean heavily on their table. “You two ladies look lonely,” he said. “Care to sit at the bar with me?”

  “Thank you, but we’re having a confidential conversation,” Mary said quickly.

  “That’s a little harsh,” he said, but his tone was philosophical. He shrugged and turned back toward the bar.

  As he walked away, Mary added to Amber, “I know that sounded rude, but you have to be firm with him. He’s mostly interested in younger women—in fact, he probably was looking more at you than at me—but he’s also in the market for a nurse with a purse.”

  “Hmm, maybe I should look into that, given my health and the fact that lots of men are nurses now,” Amber joked. “Sorry, dark humor.”

  “Don’t apologize to me. Sometimes you have to laugh or you’ll cry.”

  That was for sure. In fact, it was pretty much Amber’s philosophy of life, these days.

  The waitress brought their food and they dug in. The seafood tasted delicious, fresh and fried and hot.

  “I don’t think a nurse with a purse is what Kirk James wants,” Amber teased, leaning back with a jumbo shrimp in her hand. “He’s a pretty active guy, and he’s always talking about you.”

  “Not interested, dear.” Mary dipped a fried clam into the Gull’s distinctly mediocre cocktail sauce. “I wouldn’t mind being friends with the man, especially since we’re neighbors, but I don’t want anything more, and he does.”

  “And he’s persistent. I mean, he tried to get you a puppy, which was dumb, but it must have taken some thought and effort on his part.”

  Mary blew out a breath with a pfft sound. “I told him I didn’t want one, but he didn’t listen. And that’s typical of men, especially of my generation. Your age-mates are better.”

  Amber thought of Georgiana. “Men don’t have a monopoly on being obnoxious. And Kirk’s basically a nice guy. He ended up being a big help to my sister when she needed funds for the academy.”

  “True, he did.” Mary shrugged. “Regardless of that, though, he wants more than I do. Not hard when I want nothing.” She smiled at Amber. “How about you? Are you dating?”

  “Trying not to,” Amber said. “My chooser’s broken. I never pick the right guy.”

  “We have that in common.” Mary leaned forward, suddenly intent. “So since you can’t leave the area right now, and you’re not interested in getting involved with a man, you have some time to do the project I described, don’t you? Was your ‘yes’ just to get those people’s goat?”

  Amber sighed. “I guess there’s a need for a project like that. And you’re right, I may as well try to do some good in the world while I’m waiting for my next move to unfold.”

  “Then you’ll do it?”

  Slowly, Amber nodded. “I’ll do it.”

  * * *

  IT SHOULD HAVE been a happy thing, registering Davey for prekindergarten at a highly recommended, popular program in their new town.

  Davey was certainly excited. He bounced in his booster seat all the way from the Healing Heroes cottage to the school, and when they pulled up to the Coastal Kids building next to the elementary school, he practically exploded out of the car. “Is this it? Are we late? Where’s my teacher?”

  “We’re not late. Our appointment is in ten minutes.” Clearly, Paul had made the right decision getting Davey started in school right away. He needed to be around other kids and to make new friends while they were here.

  But when they walked up to the school and were instantly buzzed in, hairs rose on the back of Paul’s neck. The secretary didn’t know him. Why wasn’t there some sort of security check?

  To test the place, he walked right past the glassed-in office, holding Davey’s hand. No one came out to stop them or check his credentials.

  “Where are the kids, Daddy?” Davey bounced on the balls of his feet, looking to the right and the left.

  “I don’t know.” He wanted to urge Davey to be quiet, wanted to focus on the place’s level of security, but he knew he shouldn’t squelch his son’s obvious joy.

  As they got closer to the big central stairway, the sound of children’s voices came from upstairs. Davey tugged at his hand. “They’re up there, Daddy. Do you hear them? Can we go see my teacher?”

  “Let’s look around here for a little bit first.”

  No one stopped them as they strolled around the downstairs area. A brightly decorated lunchroom was set up with two long, low tables surrounded by kid-sized chairs, next to a kitchen that smelled of freshly baked cookies. There was a library with shelves of picture books, a big rocking chair, and mats and pillows scattered around the floor.

  At the sight of the library, Davey did a little hop. “I like it here.”

  Paul pressed his lips together to keep from saying something derogatory. Maybe there was an explanation for the fact that anyone could walk into the place. Although he couldn’t imagine what it would be. Didn’t the school administrators know what the world was like now?

  Paul’s head pounded and sweat broke out on his forehead. “Let’s go talk to the people in the office.”

  Before they could get there, though, the front door opened again. Paul spun toward it, putting a hand on Davey’s shoulder, ready to push his son behind him. But the person entering was a colorfully dressed woman of about fifty, no more than five foot three and slender, obviously no threat. He sucked in quick, short breaths.

/>   Nothing happened. Don’t scare Davey.

  “Are you Paul Thompson?” the woman asked, approaching them and holding out a hand.

  “Yes.” He took her hand in his own sweaty one, shook it.

  “And this must be Davey.” She shrugged out of her jacket, knelt to child level and held out her hand to Davey. “I’m Miss Meg.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Davey recited as he’d been taught, shaking her hand. “Are you my teacher?”

  “No, but I can take you to see her. Let’s go upstairs.” She stood and looked at Paul. “If that’s okay with Dad. He and I can talk while you meet your teacher and the other kids.”

  Sweat trickled down Paul’s back. He didn’t want to get Davey excited about the place if it was hopelessly unprotected, but one look at his son’s eager face and he knew that had already happened. “Sure thing,” he forced out through a tight throat.

  They followed Miss Meg up a stairway with a mural of swimming fish on one side and a shiny, red-painted railing on the other. At the top were two big classrooms. A glance told Paul that younger kids were in the left-hand one—about ten of them sat in a circle listening to a teacher talk—while kids closer to Davey’s age were in the right-hand room, set up with small tables and chairs on one end and a large open area on the other.

  Miss Meg led them to the classroom on the right, where a slightly bigger group of children, maybe fifteen, seemed to be getting organized for a game. A few words were exchanged between the fresh-faced teacher and Miss Meg, and the younger woman held out her hand to Davey, smiling at him. “I’m Miss Kayla. We’re just about to play Bluebird through My Window. Would you like to join in?”

  Davey hung back, pressing into Paul’s leg. “Can I, Daddy?”

  “Sure can.” He smiled at Davey and squeezed his shoulder. “It looks like a fun game.”

  “Okay.” And Davey followed the teacher into the roomful of kids.

  As Miss Kayla told everyone to welcome their new friend, and Davey joined the circle of kids holding hands, Paul drew in big breaths of air and let them out slowly. He was overreacting to the lack of security, or rather, his body was.

  “Oh, good,” Miss Meg said as they watched Davey, who was already joining in the simple song. “He seems to be comfortable in new situations.”

  I’m not. Paul tried to smile and listen to the woman as she described the half-day program and the option for extended care if he needed Davey to stay during the afternoon.

  In the classroom, a girl tapped Davey on the shoulder and he joined the short line of children weaving in and out of the other kids’ upraised arms, led by the teacher. He was smiling, and when a couple of kids got tangled up together—which seemed to be the point of the game—he laughed along with the rest of the group.

  Davey needed this. It was important for him to play with other kids. “I’m concerned about security,” he said when Miss Meg took a breath. After one more glance at Davey, he moved to where he could better see the stairs. “We were able to walk right in and past the office. No one stopped us.”

  “Didn’t the buzzer work?” she asked.

  “Yes, but we were buzzed in right away. No one checked IDs or frisked us.”

  “Frisked you?” She tilted her head to one side, studying him.

  Okay, so maybe preschools didn’t frisk guests. “I could have been anyone.”

  “We can go down and look at the camera system,” she said, frowning. “I’m pretty sure you were admitted because our secretary knew you and Davey had an appointment with me, but we can double-check that.”

  Footsteps came up the stairs and Paul tensed, watching. When the woman who’d been at the reception desk in the office appeared, smiled at them and went into the other classroom, his muscles relaxed a little. But his heart rate was still way up, and sweat rolled down his back.

  Miss Meg looked at him more closely. “Is everything all right?”

  He sucked in another breath. He wanted to grab Davey and leave, but some sane part of him knew he was in the grip of his illness and shouldn’t make decisions. “I’m not feeling well,” he said, and then, recognizing the immediate concern on her face, he added, “Nothing contagious, and Davey’s fine.”

  “Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down,” she said, her forehead wrinkling. “Is there someone I can call for you?”

  Was there? His in-laws had finally gone home. His friends were all back in Baltimore.

  Someone else came up the stairs and he practically exploded. Memories washed over him in waves: he’d been joking with a couple of the sixth-grade boys, his back to the door, when there’d been a loud crash. By the time he’d turned—

  “Come sit.” Miss Meg took his arm, but he flinched away, and her eyes widened.

  “Sorry,” he said. He definitely needed to get going with the counseling here, maybe even try the antianxiety meds his doctor back home had recommended. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

  She was watching him steadily. “I’d really like to call someone for you before you take your son home.” Implied in her words was concern for Davey’s well-being. “Davey’s welcome to stay and play until you get some support.”

  Who could he call? He didn’t know a soul in this town, didn’t have a phone number. Except...

  Amber had been kind the last time he’d freaked out. She’d called her cop brother-in-law, sure, but she hadn’t reported him to the authorities, nor avoided him afterward.

  And he had her phone number because she was in charge of the cottage. “I’ll make a call,” he said to Miss Meg.

  He didn’t want to get Amber involved in his and Davey’s lives, didn’t want to risk it. He was in no shape for even a friendship with a woman, definitely not a woman he was attracted to.

  But there was no one else. He took one more glance at Miss Meg, whose arms were crossed as her gaze scanned from Davey’s classroom to Paul. And then he made the call.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THAT NIGHT, AMBER pushed her plate back, admired the darkening sky through the big dining room window of the Healing Heroes cottage and rubbed her too-full stomach. “That was delicious,” she said to Paul. “You’re a good cook.”

  Paul shrugged. “Spaghetti with meat sauce isn’t exactly gourmet.”

  “And salad,” she reminded him. “Pretty healthy.”

  “Healthy dinner means dessert!” Davey pumped his fist in the air.

  Paul frowned. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t have the chance to stop at the grocery store today. No ice cream.”

  Davey’s lower lip thrust out.

  Uh-oh. “I think I can solve this problem,” Amber said. “Davey, do you like chocolate?”

  “My favorite!” He nodded vigorously.

  “Mine, too,” she said. “And I have some yummy brownies at my house. You help Dad clean up, and I’ll run over and get them.” She grinned at Paul. “See what I did there? Now I don’t have to help.”

  “Tricky.” He smiled back at her, his face more relaxed than it had been earlier today. When he smiled—when he wasn’t looking like he carried heavy weights on both of his shoulders—he was very appealing.

  And she didn’t need to be thinking about that. “Be right back,” she promised, and headed to her place.

  Paul’s softer side was a surprise, but not as much of one as getting that call from him had been. He’d sounded desperate, and she’d dropped everything and come to the Coastal Kids School right away.

  There, she’d reassured Miss Meg that she would help Paul and Davey get home and settled, and then driven them to the cottage in her car.

  Two high red spots on his cheekbones had showed Paul’s embarrassment as he’d apologized and thanked her. She’d thought that would be the end of it, that he’d probably avoid her now that she’d seen his weakness, but on the contrary, he’d invited her over for dinner as an apology.

/>   Come to think of it, the man was very skilled at apologies. First flowers, now a home-cooked dinner. Had he had a lot of practice apologizing in his life, and to whom?

  She pulled out the pan of brownies she’d made for Hannah’s care package. Like always, she’d made way too many. She loaded up a plate, covered it with plastic wrap and headed back over.

  Twilight had given way to full darkness, but the moon cast silver light across the water, illuminating the lapping waves. She paused, breathed in the fragrance of salt water and autumn leaves, that unique combination she’d only ever smelled here on Maryland’s Eastern Shore.

  Grateful. She was grateful for the natural beauty around her and the chance to share a meal with new friends. When life’s big milestones and pleasures seemed out of reach, it was best to concentrate on the small, everyday blessings.

  She tapped on the door and walked back in to find Davey on the couch under a blanket, watching a movie featuring talking dogs and cats. “Here, buddy,” she said, and handed him a big brownie. Only when crumbs fell onto the blanket did she realize her error. She hurried to the kitchen and found a napkin to spread over him.

  Paul came down from upstairs and raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You probably don’t allow him to eat on the couch, but by the time I’d thought of that, I’d already given him a brownie.”

  “They’re good, Daddy,” Davey said around a mouthful, dropping more crumbs.

  Amber winced and went for another napkin, but Paul stopped her with a hand on her arm, stepping backward until they were out of Davey’s hearing. “Don’t worry about it. I appreciate your bringing dessert, but mostly, I’m sorry about today.”

  “You more than made it up to me with that dinner.” She waved the plate of brownies under his nose. “Want to try my contribution, so I don’t feel like such a freeloader?”

  He picked one up, took a bite and nodded approvingly. “Excellent.”