by Lisa Carter
Darcy showed Brody how to fold the paper napkins, and his little man toddled around the farmhouse table, setting out three places.
She knew the kayaking business, and Jax didn’t. It should be her name on the company title, not his. If it weren’t for Brody, he’d...
Jax dug into the casserole. For Brody’s sake, what choice did he have? The papers were signed. The deal was done.
And he was so profoundly grateful for this chance to come home. To have a job. A purpose and a way to provide a life for his son.
Jax spooned out the lasagna onto the plates. Darcy rigged a stack of phone books onto one of the chairs as a booster seat.
He poured milk for Brody into a small juice cup. “I’m surprised anyone uses telephone books anymore.”
She lifted Brody to the top of the stack. “Shirley is old-school.”
Jax cut the spinach lasagna into bite-size pieces for Brody. “So it was you behind the website.”
She held up a salad fork. “Can Brody use this?”
Jax grinned over his son’s dark head. “Let’s just say he gives it a good try.”
She smiled at him. A lot of firsts tonight. His pulse ratcheted.
Darcy tucked a napkin in the neck of Brody’s shirt. “He’ll get the hang of it. Like you with this single parenting thing.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me.”
She arched her eyebrow. “Confidence has never been a problem for Jaxon Pruitt.”
Gripping the fork, Brody speared a noodle.
“Uh, wait a minute, Brody.” She placed a restraining hand on his arm. “We need to tell God thanks for the food.”
Something else Jax had failed to do as a parent. His stomach tightened. But she flicked a quick smile at him.
“Put down the fork, Brody, and put your hands together like this. Close your eyes.”
His little hands folded underneath his chin. “Like Gwandma.”
Jax nodded. “Like Grandma.”
When his parents came to help with Brody’s care in the months following Adrienne’s death, his mother had taught Brody to pray. A good practice Jax had allowed to lapse. A good habit he needed to reinstate.
Brody squeezed his eyes shut. “’Kay, Dawcy.”
A smile hovering on her lips, she closed her eyes, too. “Dear Father, thank You for this day and for the food.”
Not closing his eyes, Jax studied Darcy’s face, as usual bare of anything beyond sunscreen. Her sweeping lashes lay soft against her cheeks.
“Thank You for the hands that prepared this wonderful food. Thank You for Brody.”
His son’s mouth tipped up at the corners.
She lifted her face toward the ceiling, like a sunflower seeking light. “Thank You for Brody’s daddy.”
Jax stilled.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “And thank You for bringing Brody and his dad home to Kiptohanock.”
“Amen,” Jax whispered.
She cleared her throat. “Amen, Brody. Now you can eat.”
Brody’s eyes flew open. “Ay-ay-men...”
They laughed.
Keeping an eye on Brody’s attempt to lance the lasagna and access his mouth, Jax sat across from Darcy. “The confident Jaxon Pruitt you remember didn’t quite make it back from an Afghan province.”
She handed him a plate of lasagna. “What about the commendations under fire? Jax the Invincible.”
“Not so invincible.” He paused, fork midway to his mouth. “You kept track of me?”
She stabbed the lasagna on her plate. “Not so hard with the Kiptohanock grapevine at work. You know how it is in a small town.”
“Home sweet home,” he grunted. “Where you may not know what you’re doing, but you can rest assured everyone else does.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” She rolled her eyes. “But in your case, you’ve always succeeded at everything you attempted.”
“In hindsight, too easily. Without having to try too hard.” He bent over the plate. “And when it really matters, like now...”
She laid down her fork. “You are a naturally gifted athlete. Easy on the eyes. And despite the laid-back demeanor, intelligent. You’ll be an old hand at running the kayaking business before you know it.”
His head came up. “You think I’m good-looking?”
Darcy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish on a hook. “That’s what you got out of everything I said? Good-looking cannot be a news flash to you.”
He cocked his head. “The news flash is that you think so, too.”
“All the Pruitt men are good-looking.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Though your baby brother, Charlie, is widely considered the most handsome of the bunch. Not you.”
He placed his hand over his chest. “Zing—straight through the heart.” He laughed. “I missed you, Darcy.”
She could always be counted on to give him a healthy dose of humility. Whether he wanted her to or not.
“Did you? I couldn’t tell.”
Brody reached for his cup, and she jumped up—as did Jax—a second too late to prevent a milk mishap.
Jax righted the overturned cup. “I’m sorry about what happened this afternoon. You’re right. I need to learn the business before I make changes.”
She used her napkin to mop up the spill. “I should’ve given your ideas a chance. Maybe next week—things are slow until summer cranks up—we could revisit your idea. It’s your business. You’re the boss.”
“Next week? Does that mean you’d be willing to teach me what you know?”
“Providing we can come to acceptable terms.”
Darcy took life on her terms. One of the things he’d most liked about her when they were children. Because truth be told, he was the same way. Frenemies or not, they’d always understood each other.
At least until that last summer before he shipped out to Basic. Things had gotten confusing between them.
He pushed back his shoulders. “Okay, hit me.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “When will you learn not to say things you don’t mean?”
He laughed. In the old days, she’d always managed to make him laugh. Most of all, at himself. “I meant hit me with your terms.”
She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I’ll teach you what I know about the business, but after Labor Day I’m leaving the Shore to run Shirley’s operation in the Keys. You’ll have three months to get up to speed, but after that you’re on your own.”
Just when he returned, she was leaving? The sunshine girl headed to the Sunshine State. But she’d offered him an olive branch. A truce in their long-running battle of hostility.
“You were gone a long time.” She settled into her chair. “Why didn’t you ever come back?”
“I was nineteen the first time I deployed, Darcy.” He took a deep breath. “Somewhere along the way, I got lost.”
“Lost how?”
His shoulders rose and fell. “Let’s just say I’ve been as far from Kiptohanock as you can find yourself and still be on the same planet.” He looked away. “These last few days since leaving Salt Lake City, I’ve asked myself if it was possible to fit into small town life again. But for Brody’s sake...”
She placed her palms flat on either side of her plate. “It’s because of Brody that I know you’re going to make this work, Jax.”
He frowned. “You’ve got more faith in me than I do in myself right now.”
“You are the king of don’t quit, Jaxon Pruitt.” She smirked. “Obnoxiously so. You’ll rise to the occasion. You always do.”
“Somewhere in there I think there was a compliment.” He ran his fingers through the short ends of his hair. “A very hidden compliment.”
Darcy tilted her head. “And here’s something
else I’ve learned about small towns like Kiptohanock.”
He took a swig of sweet tea, as much as anything to give his hands something to do. “What’s that?”
“Sometimes small towns are so out in the middle of nowhere that you have to get lost to find them.”
He gnawed at his lower lip. “You’re saying even lost, I’m right where I should be?”
“Small town life lesson.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “I won’t charge you for that one. But I’ll expect to receive my paycheck as usual at the end of the month.”
“Duly noted.” He rested against the chair. “I never realized until I left how much I’d miss this place.”
“For born heres—” she placed her hand over her heart “—it becomes a part of us.”
“I took being within sight and sound of the water for granted. It’s who we are in the deep places. Over there I lost the best part of myself.” He fiddled with his silverware. “But if you don’t mind me asking—”
“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”
“Why are you leaving, Darcy?”
“The longer I’ve stayed—maybe I’ve overstayed—the more lost I feel.” She averted her eyes. “Perhaps it’s time for me to see if there’s more out there.”
“Does more have to be out there? Not here?”
Her gaze returned to his. “I thought you’d understand, Jax. We’re both all-or-nothing people.”
“You want to know the real reason I didn’t return until now?” His heart drummed in his chest. “I didn’t think there could ever be a place here for me again.”
“But you’re home now, Jax.”
“Am I?” He studied her. “Will you forgive me, Darcy?”
His question was about so much more than what had happened this afternoon.
She looked at him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Can we get back to being friends?” He thrust out his chin. “We were friends, Darcy. Once.”
“Trust might be trickier than merely coming home.”
Jax tightened his jaw. “A chance is all I’m asking.”
His son pushed off from the table. “Pie?”
Bolting to his feet, Jax grabbed for the sliding phone books.
She caught his son underneath his arms. “Whoa, there, Brody Pruitt. What’s the rush?”
His mouth and chin were covered in red sauce. “Me Bwody Pwoo-it, Dawcy.” He raised his sauce-encrusted hands.
She kissed a clean spot on the top of his head. “Yes, you are. And what you are is a big mess.”
Brody threw back his head and belly-laughed.
“You know, Jaxon Pruitt, you have an irresistible son.”
He polished his knuckles on his shirt. “Like father, like son.”
“You wish.”
Smiling, he cut Brody a sliver of pie while Darcy made a valiant attempt to restore a semblance of cleanliness to his son.
After dessert, she took out a small plastic bottle from the shopping bag. “Bubbles, Brody. Let’s go out back.”
She guided him down the deck stairs to the tree-studded, sloping lawn. The meandering tidal creek glistened like multicolored jewels in the rainbow hue of the fiery sunset.
Darcy handed Jax a large bubble wand. “This one’s for you.”
Brody quivered with excitement. She dabbed the tiny stick in the solution. And pursing her lips, she blew across the wand.
A single bubble hung suspended before a soft breeze off the salt marsh lifted it into the air. They watched as the bubble rose higher and higher until it disappeared over the trees.
“Oh, Dawcy...” For the first time since Adrienne’s death, Brody smiled.
Darcy’s eyes welled and cut to Jax. His eyelids burned. She understood what this moment meant.
“Thank you, Darce.”
As soon as he said the old nickname, he remembered how she hated it. Yet old habits died hard. Like old loves?
But this time, a smile flitted across her lips. “You’re welcome, Jax.”
His son bounced, a human pogo stick. “Mow, Dawcy. Mow.”
“Sure thing.” She blew another bubble.
Brody’s arms reached above his head.
She motioned. “Go get it, Brody.”
He raced after the bubble. Buoyant on the wind, it eluded his grasp. She blew bubble after bubble as Brody gave chase. His son laughed and laughed. As if making up for lost time.
Happiness. Peace. Contentment. Always just out of Jax’s grasp, too. Eluding him all these years.
“Watch this, Brody,” she called.
Brody wheeled.
She nudged Jax. “Bend a little and close your eyes.”
He obliged, and she leaned closer. Close enough for him to feel her breath on his face as she blew gently across the small wand.
A bubble tickled his eyelids and danced like a frolicking ladybug across his skin. A caress. A whisper. A promise?
Brody clapped his hands. “Me, Dawcy. Me.”
“You can open your eyes, Jax.”
So he did. Her own eyes hooded, she touched her finger to the cleft in his chin. Just for a second before she moved to his son.
Brody chuckled when the bubbles brushed his shuttered eyelids. “Me do you, Dawcy.”
Keeping hold of the bottle, she let Brody dip the stick into the liquid.
“Cwoser, Dawcy. Cwoser.”
Jax rubbed his forehead. “He has trouble with l’s, too.”
Crouching to Brody’s height, she clamped her eyes shut. And flinched when what she got from him was more spit than bubble.
“Way to take one for the team, Darce.”
She shoulder-butted him. “Your turn, soldier.”
“At your peril, Darcy Parks.” He stepped back, yanking the large bubble wand from its sheath.
“Ooh...” Brody’s eyes rounded.
Brandishing it like a saber, Jax smiled, slashing the air between them. She smiled back at him.
And he knew she remembered childhood escapades involving pretend pirates in the tree house. Zorro and intergalactic warfare, too. They’d made it up as they went along. Like now?
He whirled, loosing a giant bubble blob. Brody cackled with sheer delight.
Darcy ran toward the creek. “Catch it, Brody!”
The toddler raced after her as fast as his small legs allowed. He stumbled, but she was there, sweeping him into her arms.
Jax’s heart caught in his throat.
For the first time, he thought he might’ve found a way to bridge the gap. The answer to a prayer he’d been too afraid to voice. Could it be that with Darcy’s help, he might’ve found the way home for both of them?
Chapter Four
On Mondays, the shop was closed. A well-earned rest for employees who spent the weekend guiding kayaking tours. Usually Darcy slept in on her day off. Mondays—not Sundays, though she’d never tell her minister father—were her favorite day of the week.
She hadn’t seen Jax since Saturday night, nor did he appear at church. But Monday morning, despite sleeping fitfully, she came fully awake at 6:00 a.m. Wired, restless, vaguely uneasy.
Darcy lay in bed, watching the first beams of light filter through the dormer window. She’d lived in this house as long as she’d been alive.
Mondays were also her father’s well-earned day off. The day he chose her and her mom over the rest of his congregation. In the summers when she was out of school, they’d spent the day as a family doing fun stuff.
During the school year, she still remembered the special thrill of getting off the bus at the square and walking the last few blocks home with the Pruitt clan.
Her steps quick with anticipation, she knew her father would be waiting for her at the base of the tree house. He’d push her on the swing, and they’d spend a bliss
ful hour together. She loved to swing, trying to touch the sky.
“I’m a swing kind of girl!” she’d call, pumping her legs as hard as she could go.
“And I’m a swing kind of dad,” her father would say back.
On the swing, she could fly. Feeling free and light, she broke the bonds of gravity and soared into the wild blue yonder.
Being so energetic, she must’ve wearied her more sedentary parents. No wonder they were content for her to play with the Pruitt pack next door.
A Kiptohanock native, her father had become pastor of the church with a wife and a young son in tow. The wife and son Darcy never knew. Because if they’d lived, Harold Parks would never have married her mother, and Darcy Parks wouldn’t exist.
She gazed at the ceiling. It was strange to think of herself as not existing. And equally strange to contemplate why she lived and yet her father’s other child had not.
Over the years, she’d thought a lot about her brother. Would she and Colin have been friends, like the Pruitt siblings? Perhaps the two of them would’ve gone fishing. Hunted for seashells on one of the barrier islands.
Would he have been bookish like their father? Or athletic like her, who took after nobody on either side of the family? Truth was, dead little Colin Parks had fit in better with her father than she ever would.
She flung back the thin sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Enough of that. Not given to melancholy, her perennially cheerful mother had raised her to be the same. Darcy was far more comfortable with doing something rather than just being.
Careful to avoid the pine floorboard that creaked, she quietly dressed lest she awaken her parents. Sunday was her dad’s busiest day, and on Mondays he needed his rest. He continued to maintain the pastoral duties of a much younger man.
Standing at the kitchen sink eating a banana, she watched the sun rise over the treetops. No lights shone from the Pruitt house, but Everett Pruitt’s charcoal-gray SUV sat in the driveway. Jax’s parents must’ve arrived home last night.
Brody was too little for kayaking. Jax would need his parents’ help with Brody when he was working.
The Pruitts had always been great neighbors. Darcy loved Jax’s mother. Gail Pruitt, a busy RN with five rambunctious children of her own, always made room at the table for one more—the lonely only PK.
