A Hero Comes Home

by Sandra Hill

  “She did not.”

  “Well, she probably meant Daddy, too.”

  Jake was heading toward town now, with the three boys. Sally had asked him to come to the shop this afternoon so that she could get his advice on something. He couldn’t imagine what expertise he would have regarding a bakery, but he was trying to be helpful. Besides, she might be wearing a baker’s apron over shorts and a tank top that would make it look as if she was wearing the apron and nothing else.

  Did I mention how horny I am these days?

  When they got to the bakery, Jake planted the three boys at a window table with one monster cookie and a mini carton of orange juice each, warning them, “If any one of you moves, there will be no video games tonight for all of you.”

  “Aw, geez!”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “How long do we hafta sit here? What if I hafta pee?”

  He gave them a look, one he’d perfected over the last week or so, and they immediately zipped up.

  He found Sally in the kitchen where she was talking to her assistant baker, José, who gave Jake a wave. She wasn’t wearing an apron (Darn it!), just an OBX T-shirt and yoga pants. He’d developed a particular affection for yoga pants in the highly amped testosterone quicksand he waded through these days. (Yeah, aprons and tight jeans and bikinis are flags in that quicksand, too. Aaarrgh!)

  “What’s up, Sally?”

  “I need your advice about something. Come with me.” She led him out the back door and into the gift store next door, which seemed to specialize in scented candles based on the myriad aromas that assaulted them. “Hey, Alma,” Sally said, “this is my husband, Jacob.” To Jake, she said, “Meet Alma Vemeer, the owner of this shop.”

  Jake shook hands with her and they exchanged a few words, mostly the usual “Thank you for your service,” and him remarking on how nice the shop looked and how he remembered when it had been a Bell Cove fixture that specialized in nothing but kites.

  Finally, Sally asked Alma, “Do you mind if I show my husband around?”

  There wasn’t much to see. It was pretty much the same size as Sally’s adjacent bakery, including the front shop and kitchen, except in this case, it was all one space.

  Jake was confused. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

  “The square footage. If that wall were knocked out, imagine what a great space would be created. I’ve been thinking about expanding into more breakfast and lunch fare, light things that utilize what I already make, carryout types of things for people headed to the beach or to take back to an office. Like fried eggs on bacon croissants in the morning. Gourmet egg salad on toasted sourdough bread. And at lunchtime, oh, so many possibilities! Ham and imported Swiss cheese with stone-ground mustard on pumpernickel swirl rolls. Individual baguettes filled with chicken salad, heavy on the crunchy grapes and walnuts.”

  “You make me hungry just describing those.”

  She smiled.

  He loved when she smiled at him like that. He wished he could make her do it more. But he was about to rain on her parade. “It wouldn’t just be a case of taking down a wall, though, would it? You’re talking a bigger kitchen and additional appliances. More display cases and counters. Seating. Painting. Flooring. Windows. Doors. Lighting.”

  She nodded. “And that’s just the start.”

  “Sally, you’re already working a huge number of hours. Can you really take on more?” What he didn’t say, but she had to realize, was that more time would be taken away from the boys. And him.

  “I would need more staff, of course, but I could move José up to head baker with me, and add two other assistant bakers. Mary Lou Tonelli, who’s been a full-time clerk, is perfectly capable of becoming manager, and then I’d hire additional staff, more in the summer than the rest of the year.”

  “You’ve really been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

  “I have.”

  “Any idea how much all this would cost?”

  She shook her head. “Alma wants to sell me her store for a hundred thousand dollars, which is probably a bargain. She’s given me until the end of September to decide before she puts it on the market. Then there’s all those additional expenses I mentioned.”

  He blinked. “Do you have that kind of money?”

  She blushed. “We don’t have that kind of money. But we do have fifty thousand for a down payment. We would have to finance the rest.”

  Okay, he got the message with that “we” emphasis. This was something she expected, or wanted, him to engage in with her. A joint venture.

  He also got another message. She was asking if he was going to be around long enough to see something like this through.

  But holy shit! A business loan of upward of a hundred thousand dollars? “And that big of a loan doesn’t scare you off?”

  “No. Well, a little bit, but if the figures play out the way I think they might, it doesn’t seem like too big of a risk.”

  Was this the same woman who’d lived with a malfunctioning fridge for a year because she didn’t want to finance a new one? Debt had scared her.

  “Sally, I know nothing about bakeries. I can’t see myself kneading dough and selling baked goods.”

  “What do you see yourself doing?”

  He winced. That was blunt.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Anyhow, all I’m asking at this point is whether you can investigate all this for me. Maybe hire an architect like Gabe Conti to draw up some plans. Look over my accounts and project how much additional income there might be. Whether the whole idea is economically feasible. You don’t have to be an expert to do that.”

  He sensed a trap. Either way loomed a misstep. If he said, no, he wasn’t interested, she would take it personally. The repercussions would be more than “no sex.” On the other hand, if he said yes, would he be making a commitment he was unready for?

  “I’ll try, Sally,” he said finally.

  She actually got tears in her eyes and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you. You are a godsend.”

  He wasn’t sure about that. But he took her hugs wherever he could get them.

  The two of them went to gather the boys, who were looking suspiciously innocent as they sat waiting for them in the shop. Jake’s father called just then from his cell phone out on the boat to say that he and Old Mike were heading in early, having had a particularly good day fishing, including a huge yellowfin tuna, which he thought the boys might like to see them unload. Yellowfin tuna weren’t nearly as valuable as bluefin tuna, which were highly regulated and made famous by that TV show Wicked Tuna, but they were still good eating. And impressive-looking.

  Sally agreed to come with them.

  As they drove toward the marina in his truck—he and Sally up front and their sons in the back on a bench seat—the boys chattered on, as usual, mostly about the upcoming weekend excursion planned by PopPop and Old Mike. (Vana Gustafson had supposedly bowed out, thank God! Something about a blind date to go shagging. The dance, not that other.) Somehow this grandfather/grandsons bonding experience on the water had become a fact without either Jake or Sally having given permission.

  But then Matt asked the question that had been niggling at the back of Jake’s mind for days (Can anyone say testosterone quicksand?), “Daddy, what are you and Mommy going to do when we’re gone all weekend?”

  Chapter 12

  The gamble: knowing when to fold them, when to walk away, or, what the hell, when to stay . . .

  PopPop and Old Mike picked up the three boys at four p.m. on Friday afternoon. They’d been packed and ready to go since nine, checking and rechecking to make sure they had all the magnetic board games handed down through the generations of Dawsons that could be played in the wind and motion of a boat out on the open seas—such as, checkers, backgammon, cards—and enough live bait to feed a small nation of hapless fish. They looked adorable with the red OBX baseball caps and the mini fishing vests, which also served as fl
otation preservers in an emergency, that Jake had purchased for them at the town mercantile. Joe’s mutt Goofus sat on the front seat between him and Old Mike, eager to be out on the boat, too.

  By the time her father-in-law’s packed pickup truck left the driveway with the kids yelling goodbyes out the back seat windows, Sally was exhausted. But not so exhausted that she didn’t notice the smoldering expression in her husband’s eye. He’d been looking at her like that a lot lately.

  And, boyohboy, did he look good himself these days! With the little extra weight he’d gained, the tan he was perfecting being in the sun so much with the boys, and his genetic hotness, the man was pure temptation. Instead of detracting from the eye candy package, the patch added an extra element of edginess to his attraction.

  “Do you want to go out to eat tonight?” she asked.

  He shook his head and continued to stare at her as they walked toward the back porch.

  “You’re not hungry?”

  “Oh, I’m hungry.”

  Okaaay. Feeling suddenly awkward, she found herself rambling. “Two whole days without my boys! I don’t think I’ve ever been away from them for that long. Well, there was that time I went to a bakers’ convention in Myrtle Beach, but that was just overnight. Without them to care for, even with the bakery, there will be all that extra time.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” he remarked enigmatically.

  “Actually, there’s enough food in the fridge to feed an army.” Friends and neighbors throughout Bell Cove had been dropping off quick-fix meals and sides for days now. Ham and other meats, potato and macaroni salads, including Vana Gustafson’s infamous Norse potato salad with salted herring. Fresh garden tomatoes. Pies, cakes, breads. Did they forget she owned a bakery? Even a bottle of wine from Father Brad at Our Lady by the Sea Church. “You’d think it was a funeral or something. Do they think you and I are going to starve if we don’t have the kids and your dad and Old Mike to cook for?”

  He shrugged, though a grin twitched at his lips.

  “In fact, without the boys here, I have no idea what I’ll do with all that extra time.”

  Jake chuckled. He apparently had ideas.

  They were on the porch now, and Jake leaned against one of the thick tapered square columns that supported the roof.

  She leaned against the column on the other side of the steps, folding her arms over her chest, just in case a certain part of her anatomy revealed something embarrassing.

  He folded his arms over his chest, too, but in his case, it was more a lazy attitude of cat versus mouse.

  “You could take care of me,” he said softly.

  “Do you need care?”

  “In spades.”

  She arched her brows. “Are you in pain?”

  “Always.”

  “Would it help if I massaged your leg?”

  He made a low choking sound before replying, “That would be a start.”

  “I have some scented bath oil.”

  “Even better.” He smiled.

  And Sally melted a little bit more.

  The answer to whether they were going to have sex or not was a foregone conclusion. Nothing that had been discussed. Just something understood. There was no doubt in Sally’s mind that Jake wanted it. She sure as sugar did.

  Sally wasn’t sure when she’d decided to give up her resolution to have a firm commitment from Jake, a clear-cut idea of their future together, before starting a sexual relationship. In some ways, it was like her reasoning for expanding the bakery business, taking on a huge loan. A risk. At some point, days ago, she’d decided to gamble that she and Jake had enough assets, enough promises of return on investment, to jump in headfirst. Yeah, they had a checkered P & L relationship statement, but nine years of marriage and three children had to count for something.

  The big question, the big elephant looming between them, was love . . . or lack of love. Had that all-consuming love at first sight died?

  She didn’t know. She felt raw, exposed. If he’d come back a few months after his last deployment, she might very well have given him his walking papers. That’s how disillusioned she’d been with her marriage. Now? She wasn’t sure.

  As for Jake . . . she hadn’t heard any expressions of undying love on his part, either. Unlike his old cocky self, overconfidence personified, he seemed equally unsure of himself. He’d even been willing to let her go. Hadn’t he told her in so many words that she could have an affair with another man, as long as she did it discreetly? The clueless ass! Does he know me so little? Sex as a widow was one thing. Adultery was quite another.

  The thing was, Jake didn’t talk much at all. About the things that were important. Maybe if she understood what he’d been through the past three years, she could bridge the gap between them.

  Would sex provide that bridge?

  It appeared that she was about to find out.

  Jake pushed away from the column and moved the three steps closer to her. Tipping her chin up, he said, “Honey, I’m home.”

  And it was as if the last few weeks, the last three years, were wiped out. A new start.

  Home is where the heart is, and other body parts, too . . .

  “Thank God!” Sally said and leaned into the palm of his hand.

  Jake’s heart swelled in his chest at that mere gesture. He assumed she was responding to his remark about being home.

  “So? Are we going to do this thing?” he asked.

  She nodded, and there were tears in her eyes, turning them from chocolate to misty caramel. He didn’t think they were tears of sorrow. More a surfeit of emotion.

  He knew how that felt. The time for “Should we?” or “Shouldn’t we?” or “What if this?” or “What if that?” or “Maybe we should wait” was long past. The time for going for the flow of emotion was at hand.

  Tugging her closer, with both hands on her hips, he leaned down to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and went up on tiptoes to meet his kiss and kiss him back.

  It was sweet.

  So sweet.

  And then it was hot.

  He sighed into her open mouth.

  She groaned.

  The kiss went on and on, a reshaping and relearning. His hands roamed her back and shoulders and behind. Her hands cupped his face, holding him in place.

  Finally, he drew back and looked at her. Her lips were moist and parted. Her eyes half-lidded with arousal.

  “Come,” he said, taking her hand and leading her inside.

  When he locked the kitchen door behind them, she arched her brows in question. “We don’t want any friends bringing goodies to just walk in,” he explained.

  She giggled.

  Lord, he hadn’t heard her giggle in a long time. Years, maybe.

  She had to help him up the steps as he leaned on her shoulder, refusing to go up backward on his ass at a time like this. Which of course led to them stopping every other step to kiss and pet. Once, when she accidentally, or perhaps not so accidentally, brushed her hand across his erection, he almost tipped over backward. After that, there was no more stopping. Still, it took them fifteen minutes in all, to get from bottom to top, Jake figured.

  In their bedroom, Sally turned down the quilt and sheets, then stood watching as he pulled his T-shirt over his head, toed off his athletic shoes, then shrugged out of his briefs and shorts, all in one swoop.

  “You are so beautiful,” she said.

  “I am not!” And that was the truth. He was too thin, and covered with scars, and bent in places he shouldn’t be.

  “Yes, you are, Jacob.”

  He touched the eye patch and held out his one leg to display the vicious marks of damage.

  “They make you more attractive.” She raised a halting hand when he was about to disagree. “Really. They do.”

  Okay, if his broken body made her more amenable to sex with him—hell, if it turned her on, who was he to argue?

  “Your turn, baby,” he said and waved a hand
for her to get naked, too. Meanwhile he arranged himself on the bed, propped by two pillows, to watch. He put a third pillow over his lap because, frankly, his hard-on was becoming rather embarrassing. Well, not embarrassing so much as distracting. To him, anyway.

  “Is that an order?”

  “Definitely an order.”

  She gave him a sharp salute. “Yes, Captain, sir!” Then, with a wicked gleam in her eyes, she kicked off her sandals one at a time. One landed on the bed next to him, way too close to vulnerable territory. Good thing he’d had the foresight to cover himself. He lobbed it back at her. The sassy wench caught it with a laugh and tossed it aside, over her shoulder.

  Then, still being sassy—did he mention he loved when his wife became Sassy Sally?—she moved to the bottom of the bed and turned her back to him. She was wearing a loose sundress with wide shoulder straps. She dropped one strap, slowly, then the other, holding the dress up in front with both hands to her chest. Without turning around, she asked, “Is this what you had in mind?”

  “Not even close.”

  She dropped the dress to puddle at her feet and just stood for a moment, letting him take in her nude form from behind. Then she wiggled out of her bikini panties. She had the cutest butt, leading up over the curve of her hips to a narrow waist. She glanced over her shoulder and asked, “Better?”

  “We’re getting there.” Then he added, “Man, you’ve still got a perfect heart-shaped ass.”

  “You and your heart-shape nonsense!”

  “Turn around now. Slowly.”

  She did, and he inhaled sharply. He always did when looking at his wife. She wasn’t so cocky now. Instead, she looked downward, not meeting his eyes. She’d always been insecure about her body, apparently still was. Yeah, she was average in height and build, and she was far from voluptuous, but who wanted that? Her breasts were a little bigger, and she had light stretch marks on her belly, from three pregnancies. Pregnancies which he’d caused. So, in a way, they were his marks on her. Yeah, convoluted macho man thinking. In any case, Sally set the bar for perfect womanhood in his mind.