Aaron Under Construction

by Marin Thomas

  The death of her mother and brother had gutted her emotionally. She didn’t have the stamina for a relationship with Aaron. She didn’t have anything left inside her to give. But explaining would only lead to heartache, because he’d do everything in his power to heal her. To make her whole again. But he couldn’t. No one could. And she refused to put him through that—she’d rather he walk away angry right now than walk away hating her later.

  Forcing herself to make eye contact, she insisted, “We should stop seeing each other.”

  “What!” His shout smacked the walls and bounced off with a force that made Jennifer step back.

  “A relationship between us wouldn’t work in the long run.”

  The muscle along his jaw pulsed with frustration. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. After several seconds, he shook his head. “Okay.”

  A fierce pain gripped her chest. Had she misread his feelings for her? “You’re okay with breaking up?”

  “No. But I’m okay to talk rationally about this without blowing up.” His gaze warmed as he studied her face. “I’m sorry about the outburst. You caught me by surprise.”

  She waved off his apology.

  “Can we backtrack?” At her nod, he added, “Worrying about anything long-term is premature, don’t you agree? We’ve barely shot out of the starting gate and already you’re saying we lost the race.”

  She didn’t have the courage to confess that she couldn’t forgive herself. That no matter how she yearned to, she didn’t have the strength to pursue her own happiness. This stubborn man could do better than her. Deserved better than her. “I can’t trust you, Aaron,” she lied.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I realize I haven’t been truthful with you about my past. You know I’ve never worked construction before.”

  “Could have fooled me.” She smiled, aching to comfort him.

  “I can explain everything—eventually.”

  “Doesn’t matter, Aaron. We’re too different.”

  “I assumed you didn’t have a problem with me being white.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then—”

  “We’re from such different backgrounds. I don’t have any idea what line of work you were in before you hired on with my crew, but you must have made good money to buy the entire twentieth floor of that building.”

  “I’m not a drug dealer. You have to believe me, Jennifer. I’d never do anything illegal.”

  “I do believe you.”

  “Then give me the opportunity to prove myself. Help me, Jenny. Help us. Tell me what to do to win your trust.”

  The lump in her throat made it impossible to swallow.

  “Let me get better acquainted with your family,” he insisted.

  The last thing she wished for was for him and her father to spend time together. If her family became attached to Aaron, she wouldn’t be the only one hurt when things ended between them. “That’s not a good idea.”

  Ignoring her protest, he asked, “Does your dad have any hobbies?”

  “Aaron, really I don’t think—”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry, Jenny. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Instead of reassuring her, Aaron’s smile made her stomach turn somersaults.

  AT 5:00 A.M. the Sunday-morning sky began to lighten as Aaron sat in his truck at a red light three blocks from the Alvarado home. This past Friday after he’d left Jennifer at the site, he’d phoned her father and had invited him to go fishing. He hoped Mr. Alvarado could help him win over his elder daughter; if not, at least offer a few words of wisdom. At first, he’d declined the fishing invitation, but after some fast talking on Aaron’s part, Jennifer’s father gave in and agreed to today’s outing.

  The green arrow lit up and he turned left down Third Street, then parked the truck along the curb. He fought to keep from grinning at the sight of Jennifer’s father sitting on the top step wearing a pair of knee-high rubber boots and an old-fashioned orange life vest that appeared as though it had been in someone’s garage since 1940.

  “‘Morning,” Aaron greeted as he strolled up the sidewalk.

  “Buenos días, Aaron.” Mr. Alvarado nodded and the array of fishing hooks attached to the hat tinkled like a wind chime.

  “Nice hat.”

  “Delia buy for me when she hear you take her papa fishing.”

  Smart girl, that Delia. Aaron examined the hooks and spotted a beer opener in the shape of a shark head. “Have you ever fished before, sir?”

  “No, I never fish.” He lifted the cooler next to his thigh, then descended the porch steps.

  “You’re in for a real treat.” Aaron led the way to his truck, feeling like the Skipper embarking on a three-hour disaster with sidekick Gilligan.

  He expected the drive to Marina Del Rey to be uncomfortable at best, but Captain Fishhook relaxed in the front seat, content to stare out the windshield at the early-morning traffic.

  “Two years ago, I help repave this road,” he commented, as Aaron merged onto the San Bernardino Highway.

  “I remember the traffic tie-ups.” A couple of times, the news had reported gridlock, and several commuters had illegally pulled onto the shoulder, abandoned their cars and walked off the road.

  The older man pointed out the windshield. “We need a passenger train above the freeways.”

  Such forward thinking surprised Aaron. From the way Jennifer spoke of her father, he expected him to be an Old World kind of man, not a visionary. “Maybe the younger generation will take on the challenge.”

  As they neared the marina, Aaron turned on Fiji Way, then veered onto a road leading to a public boat launch. He’d considered taking Mr. Alvarado to his private slip, where he docked a forty-foot Caliber Cutter, but that would only raise the man’s suspicions. Aaron didn’t intend to confess his real identity or what he did for a living. Jennifer deserved to hear that from him first, not her father.

  Once Aaron paid for parking, he headed for the rental office. Halfway there he spotted the Parker 2520 ModVee he’d reserved for the day and swallowed a groan. As far as fishing boats went, the Parker was adequate, if not boring. For a moment he considered returning to the truck and using his own craft, Lady Kathleen, named for his mother.

  The first thing Aaron had done when he’d moved to L.A. to run the West Coast office was purchase the offshore cruiser. Each time his brothers had flown out to stick their noses in his business, he’d suggested taking the boat for a run. For the most part, his strategy had worked. As soon as Nelson and Ryan had cast their lines into the water, they’d forgotten the reason for their visit. But on a few occasions, his brothers had ganged up on him. Unless he’d planned to challenge the sharks in a race to the shore, he’d had to endure his siblings’ lectures.

  He motioned to the empty lawn chair outside the rental office. “Have a seat while I see to the boat.” Aaron entered the combination office-bait shop and purchased a fishing license for Mr. Alvarado, worms, prepackaged cold-cut sandwiches and beer. When he returned, the lawn chair was empty and Jennifer’s father was nowhere in sight.

  Panic gripped him as he shifted his gaze to the end of the pier and searched the water for a bobbing orange life vest.

  “You think I jump?”

  Aaron spun at the heavily accented voice and spotted Mr. Alvarado peering inside a metal bucket of dead fish several yards away. “We’re over here.” Aaron motioned to the end of the pier.

  A short time later, Aaron backed the boat away from the dock and steered toward open water. The size of the craft required them to stay within a mile or two of the marina, where the waves were relatively small. Once he traveled that distance, he cut the motor. Fishing this close to shore would be iffy at best, but he reminded himself that hooking a fish was not his main objective today. “If we’re lucky, one of us might snag a yellowtail or a calico.” When Mr. Alvarado didn’t comment, Aaron baited the man’s hook, then his own, before sitting down and settling into
a companionable silence.

  A long sigh escaped Jennifer’s father. “When you tell me why you bring me fishing?”

  Startled by the older man’s voice, Aaron checked his watch and saw that an hour had slipped by.

  “This is about mi pequeña muchacha, no?”

  Aaron knew muchacha meant girl. “Yes.”

  “You care for my daughter, no?”

  “I care for her very much, sir.” Aaron waited for a response, but none came. “Jennifer told me about your wife and son. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Gracias.” Sadness, the kind that grabs a man’s soul and never lets go, settled over his aged body. “Jennifer say you lose your mama and papa in a plane crash.”

  “Yes. I have only pictures, no memories.”

  Mr. Alvarado nodded as if he understood the good and the bad in not having memories of loved ones. “Why you bring me here?”

  “I haven’t been totally truthful with Jennifer.”

  The older man’s eyes narrowed, but he refrained from asking questions.

  “Jennifer has suspected from the beginning that I’m not a construction worker by trade. She’s correct in her assumption. I’ve never worked construction before becoming a member of her crew.”

  “To lie is no good.”

  “I have my reasons for not divulging the truth, reasons I can’t go into right now. But I assure you I’m not involved in anything illegal or shady. My intentions are not to hurt your daughter or your family, Mr. Alvarado. Working this construction job has to do with fulfilling my grandfather’s wishes.”

  “Your intentions toward mi hija come from el corazón?” He thumped his chest.

  “Yes, my intentions come from the heart. I have feelings for your daughter that I’ve never had for any other woman. She’s feisty, warm and loving, and I’m determined to keep seeing her. I want our relationship to have a chance…for us to have a chance to discover if we have a future.”

  “You bring me here—” he swept his hand toward the ocean “—because you wish for my blessing?”

  “Yes and no.” Aaron shoved his fingers through his hair, agonizing over the appropriate words so that he wouldn’t offend the man. “Jennifer insists our backgrounds are too different to make a relationship work. I believe she’s lying. I haven’t been straightforward about my past, but I’ve promised to explain everything soon.” He shrugged. “I don’t believe trust is the issue. There’s another reason she doesn’t want to give us a chance.”

  Mr. Alvarado shrugged. “What you want me to do?”

  “I care very deeply for your daughter, Mr. Alvarado. I wouldn’t have dragged you out here if I wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure your daughter cared for me in the same way. Tell me how to convince Jennifer to give our relationship a chance.”

  The older man stared thoughtfully at the water. “I think mi hija scared.”

  “Scared of what?” Aaron asked.

  “She say she no trust you?”

  The conversation was becoming more muddled by the second. “Yes, Jennifer said she doesn’t trust me.”

  “My daughter no trust herself.”

  Jennifer didn’t trust herself? Now, what the heck did he mean by that? For a while, only the squawk of the California gulls flying overhead filled the air. Then Mr. Alvarado shouted, startling Aaron from his daze.

  “¡Un pescado, un pescado!”

  Aaron spied the other man’s fishing pole bend toward the water. “Fish! You hooked a fish!” With Aaron’s coaching, Mr. Alvarado reeled in the catch. “Congratulations.”

  “What the fish name?”

  “A calico. I’d guess a five-pounder. Perfect size for supper.”

  “I no like fish.”

  Aaron glanced up in surprise. “You don’t?”

  He shook his head.

  This is your lucky day, pal. Aaron removed the hook, then tossed the creature into the ocean.

  After the fish swam away, Mr. Alvarado returned to his seat and selected a prepackaged bologna sandwich from the cooler. “Beer?” he offered, holding up a small can.

  “Sure.”

  Mr. Alvarado ate in silence, obviously a man of few words. Several minutes passed, then Aaron asked, “What do you mean…Jennifer doesn’t trust herself?”

  “Mi hija blames herself for her mamá ‘s and her-mano’s death.”

  “I suspected as much. But Jennifer had no reason to believe her fiancé was a black-hearted monster.”

  “I know this. You know this. But here—” he again thumped his chest “—she know only sorrow and pain and she punish herself.”

  Aaron rubbed his face, wrinkling his nose at the fish smell clinging to his hands. “You’re certain she doesn’t believe I’d hurt her or your family?”

  “No. She lie so you go away. She not think she deserve to be happy.”

  “But Jennifer, more than anyone, ought to be happy.”

  “That is why I come fishing. For nine years mi hija sad. Maybe you are the man to make her smile.”

  Aaron wished he had as much confidence in himself as Mr. Alvarado had in him. “How do I convince her to move on with her life?”

  “This I cannot tell you.”

  Aaron had received Mr. Alvarado’s blessing to pursue his daughter, but he had no idea how to go about doing that.

  “Mi hija mucho stubborn.”

  “I believe she inherited her stubbornness from her father, no?”

  Mr. Alvarado grinned. “It will not be easy to win her.”

  That was an understatement. Jennifer was the most mulish, tough, prideful woman he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. “Nothing worthwhile is effortless.”

  “It is good to hear you speak like this. Now we quit fishing.”

  Chuckling, Aaron prepared the boat to return to the marina. Two hours later, he parked the truck next to the curb outside the Alvarado house. Jennifer stood on the front porch scowling, hands on her hips, and chin high in the air. He wondered how long she had been waiting for them.

  “My daughter look like an angry hen.”

  No kidding. Aaron waved out the window and smiled. Jennifer’s scowl deepened. “I enjoyed our trip, Mr. Alvarado.”

  “You wish to talk, okay. But no more fishing.”

  “What do you enjoy doing?” Aaron asked.

  “Next time we go bowling.”

  If Mr. Alvarado assumed there would be a next time, then he must believe that Aaron was going to stick around in his daughter’s life for a while, anyway. “All right. Next time it’s bowling.” They got out of the truck and Aaron lugged the life preserver up the sidewalk.

  His heart ached for the anger, wariness and anxiety flashing in Jennifer’s brown eyes. Today she wore her hair in a ponytail that swished across her back when she shifted from one foot to the other. She wore shorts and a T-shirt—red to match her anger.

  “I’m going to take a nap,” Mr. Alvarado announced when he got to the top step. Jennifer opened her mouth, but her father patted her cheek and said, “Be nice, hija, and leave me to sleep in peace.”

  Mouth pressed into a thin line, Jennifer scowled at her father’s retreating back. As soon as the screen door banged shut, she spat, “He hates fishing.”

  “He was a good sport.”

  “Did you buy him that stupid hat?”

  “No. Delia did.”

  “Am I the only one who wasn’t told you were taking my father fishing?”

  “Jennifer, I didn’t mean to go behind your back—”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Okay, I admit, I didn’t tell you about today because I figured you’d try to stop us from going.”

  “You have no business involving anyone in my family with our relationship.”

  Man was she ticked.

  “No harm done, Jenny. Nothing but a friendly fishing trip.”

  “Right. And I’m supposed to believe all you two did was exchange fish stories?”

  “We spoke of other things.”

  “Such
as?

  “You.” Underneath her stiff posture, Aaron saw fear in her body. Fear that his outing with her father had popped the comfortable, safe bubble she’d lived in for the past nine years. Intending to lessen her distress, he held out his hand. “Walk with me?”

  Hesitantly, as if the movement caused her great pain, she slipped her hand into his. He clasped her fingers and led her down the block, in no rush to begin a conversation. When touching her hand wasn’t enough, he curled an arm around her waist and tucked her against his side.

  “I like your father’s sense of humor.”

  He expected a sarcastic reply, but she surprised him with her thoughtful response. “I imagine you wonder what kind of man your father was.”

  “More now than ever. I’d like to believe my father had a sense of humor.” He slowed his step. “And that he’d loved me as much as your father loves you.” When she didn’t comment, he added, “Your father wants what’s best for you, Jenny.”

  “Papa doesn’t realize what’s best for me. Only I know.”

  “You’re not giving him enough credit. He’s a wise man who understands more than you realize.”

  Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, she faced him. “Exactly how personal did your talk with my father get?”

  “Pretty personal. I assured him that I cared very much for you. He offered me his blessing to continue seeing you.”

  Her complexion paled. “And what did Papa say when you told him that I didn’t intend to keep seeing you?”

  He studied the light at the intersection up ahead, then admitted, “I didn’t mention that.”

  “Aaron, I—”

  Right then his cell phone, clipped to the waistband of his shorts, rang. They stopped walking while he answered the call. “Aaron Smith.” After a few curt replies he snapped the phone shut. “I have to go.”

  Her posture relaxed, and for some odd reason that hurt. “Is anything wrong?” she asked.

  He couldn’t confess that her brother had created havoc in his company. “C’mon, let’s return to the house.” They strolled in silence and stopped when they arrived at his truck.