C01 Take a Chance on Me

by Susan May Warren

  She closed her eyes, hearing her words to Ivy. God may be silent, but He’s never absent.

  If only she believed it.

  IF HE WERE A SMART MAN, Darek would call Ivy, tell her that he’d made a terrible mistake.

  The log split where his ax cracked it, and the pieces fell off the block into the sawdust and pile below.

  He’d been charmed by Tiger’s lopsided, sticky smile and lost his head a little.

  He set another log on the block, stepped back, and swung.

  What did he think—that she’d step into his life with her bright, cheery smile and suddenly they’d be a family? Tiger would have a mother and everything would feel right and whole?

  The log split, flipped off of the block, landing in the pile.

  Darek should stop this before somebody—like Tiger—got hurt.

  He picked up another log and balanced it on the block.

  “Sheesh, Dare, last time I checked, we were just having a little campfire, not burning Rome.” Casper came up behind him wearing an Evergreen Outfitters shirt, the sleeves torn off, and carrying two cans of Coke. He handed one to Darek. “Mom sent this out.”

  Darek put down the ax and worked off his gloves. Woodchips layered his sweaty skin—he needed a shower before Ivy arrived. He’d called her yesterday at the courthouse, leaving a message with her secretary giving her directions to the resort.

  Could he possibly hope that she hadn’t received it?

  Darek took the Coke, pushed back his baseball hat, and wiped the cold can across his forehead. Closed his eyes.

  When he opened them, he found Casper tossing the wood into the wheelbarrow. Oops, he had chopped more than he’d realized.

  But once he’d gotten going . . .

  Casper leaned against the wheelbarrow. “What’s eating you?”

  Darek shook his head. Setting down his soda, he slid on his gloves and picked up another log.

  “Dude, seriously. We have enough wood for the winter. Last time you chopped with such a frenzy . . . well, you and Felicity got married about six weeks later.” Casper lifted an eyebrow.

  Darek made a face. “I made so many mistakes with her. Starting with getting her pregnant.”

  Casper took a sip of his Coke.

  “It was so unfair to her. I didn’t want to marry her—and she knew it. But what could we do?”

  “I don’t recall Mom and Dad saying you had to get married.”

  “It felt like the right thing to do.”

  “Did you love her?”

  Darek sank his ax in the wood block. “I don’t know. Maybe. We had fun together. But that summer—well, I’d heard she’d been hanging around Jensen, and . . .”

  “You went after her because you didn’t want him to get her.”

  Darek picked up his Coke and finished it, then tossed it in a nearby garbage can. “Move so I can wheel this to the fire pit.”

  Casper stepped aside, and Darek grasped the handles of the wheelbarrow. He felt his brother’s eyes on him as he started to push it.

  “Okay, yes. Probably I wanted to win. He had this huge house, the boat, his fancy Mustang.”

  “So you thought you should have the girl.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Except you weren’t prepared for what that meant.” Casper finished his own Coke, tossed the can in a recycle bin beside the path. “Move over. I got this.”

  Darek relinquished the wheelbarrow to his brother.

  Crickets chirped in the forest as they walked along the path, through the heat trapped between the trees. His feet crunched on thick, dry needles, tinder to a fire if a blaze ever started.

  It was days like this that raised the hair on the back of his neck. All of Deep Haven County could go up in flames with one careless camper or a well-placed lightning strike.

  “You miss firefighting.”

  He glanced at Casper.

  “It’s the way you pick up the needles and break them, testing their moisture levels. And the way you watch the sky. You miss it. The adventure, the hunt for fire, the battle.”

  He and Casper had that in common, at least. The love of adventure. Being four years older than his middle brother had always seemed to distance them. Casper and Owen were a better fit—especially with their love for hockey. Darek hadn’t loved the game, just played it because he didn’t like basketball. He did love the ice, the cold frost on his face on a crisp winter day.

  Shoot, he just loved being outside, the world in his grasp.

  “Yeah, I guess. I’ll never forget that day I walked into our apartment, about two weeks after we got married. There was a message from my pal Jed from the Jude County Hotshots, and they needed me for a fire. Felicity looked at me like I had said I was going to war. Then she cried; I packed and left. Didn’t see her again for three months.”

  “The Colorado fire, right?”

  “Montana. The Colorado fire was the next June. Tiger was about three months old. That time I was gone until September.”

  They’d reached the beach area, where their father, long ago, had created a fire pit with benches that circled it. It looked out over the lake, where the afternoon sun turned the water to a rich sapphire, a few boaters spraying diamonds into the sky. He could smell barbecues and hear laughter trickling across the lake.

  Almost on reflex, his gaze went to Jensen’s place. No barbecue there; it looked uninhabited.

  Casper parked the wheelbarrow and Darek began to load wood into the pit, creating a tepee.

  “I didn’t want to come home. I didn’t miss her—didn’t even miss Tiger. He was just this nuisance to me. I had my plans. I wanted to be a fire manager. And I didn’t care that Felicity hated it. I was a real prize back then.”

  “I remember,” Casper said, starting to unload the rest of the wood in a neat stack to one side.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not proud of it. The worst part is, the last thing she said to me was ‘You’re so selfish.’ And . . . I was.” He looked at Casper. “I was. I can’t believe I seriously considered letting the Holloways have full custody of Tiger. I nearly walked away from him. Now he’s my entire life.”

  “So you’re not a selfish jerk anymore. That’s a good thing.”

  Darek’s encounter with Nan Holloway rushed back at him. Maybe he still was. He stuffed birch bark and woodchips around the base of the fire tent. He’d leave it there until tonight, when they were ready to have their campfire. Then they’d head to town, where they’d watch fireworks over the harbor.

  Casper had finished emptying the wheelbarrow. “So why the mountain of wood?”

  “Because I hardly deserve a second chance with a woman.”

  “What woman?”

  Darek got up, brushing off his hands. “The woman who bought me the other night.” He made a face. “That came out wrong. I mean, at the VFW fund-raiser. Her name is Ivy—she’s the new assistant county attorney.”

  “Does she know about Felicity . . . and Jensen?”

  He frowned, shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Why would she? I told her my wife had died, but frankly, I don’t want to go back there. I’m trying to move on. To build a new life.” Or at least considering it. “I saw her at the grocery store, and she was . . . she was nice. And good with Tiger. I guess something took possession of my brain and I asked her over tonight.”

  Casper raised an eyebrow. “To hang with the family?”

  “I know. What was I thinking?”

  “I think you’re either partaking in some self-sabotage or you really like her.”

  “I don’t know her well enough to really like her.”

  “After tonight, you will.” He clapped Darek on the shoulder. “You might be surprised. This could be a good thing. A fresh start. You aren’t the guy you were five years ago. Take a chance, Dare.” Casper gave him a smile. “So she’s a looker?”

  Darek let his memory roam over the woman he’d seen at the VFW, then at the grocery store, trying to decide which version he liked
better.

  “Yeah. She’s got this pretty red hair, green eyes, a smile that could knock the wind out of a guy—”

  Casper was shaking his head.

  “What?”

  “You’re right. You don’t deserve her. I think you need to introduce her to me.”

  Darek grinned and reached for him, but Casper danced away.

  “You know, I bet she’ll take one look at me and forget all about you anyway, Dare.”

  “You think so.”

  Casper took off running.

  “Yeah, you’d better run, punk!” Darek yelled after him, grinning.

  Take a chance.

  Okay. Maybe it was time to leave the past behind, start over.

  He stopped in at the lodge and found his mother tossing together fruit in a giant watermelon-boat salad. Tiger sat at the counter, working on a flag coloring sheet she’d downloaded from the Internet.

  “I’m going to take a shower. Can you keep an eye on him a little longer?”

  “Tiger and I are doing great. And Gracie should be home soon to help with the potato salad, so take your time.”

  He landed a kiss on her cheek, then headed out to his cabin. Overhead, he heard a peal of thunder. Maybe they wouldn’t have a campfire tonight. But that was okay—they’d congregate on the veranda at the picnic tables near the grill. Maybe their guests would swing by for the root beer floats his mother promised them. Casper would probably regale them with some recent diving adventure story, and Grace would add in a tale about a tourist down at Pierre’s. Darek would wrap Tiger in a blanket and the tyke would fall asleep on his lap, or maybe Amelia’s, and . . . and then he and Ivy would watch the fireworks.

  Maybe the chaos of his family was too much for a first date.

  But he was a package deal, so she should know that from the start.

  He showered, shaved, and pulled on a clean T-shirt, a pair of cargo shorts, and sandals. He debated, then added some of the aftershave his mother had gifted him at Christmas.

  He was returning to the lodge when he spotted a car in the gravel parking lot, something unfamiliar. A red Nissan Pathfinder.

  Darek slowed, pushed away the strangest twinge in his chest, and entered the lodge through the deck.

  There she stood, leaning over the granite counter, a crayon in hand, helping Tiger fill in the red stripes of his flag. She wore a lemon-yellow sundress, a pair of beaded sandals, and her hair was gathered into a messy ponytail. Flag earrings dangled from her ears.

  Ivy looked up at him and smiled, a sweetness in her beautiful eyes.

  Right then, everything stopped. His breathing, his heartbeat. His words.

  This was it. Everything he wanted, right here. A fresh start with a woman who didn’t know him, didn’t know his past.

  His last, and best, chance.

  Darek had no idea what kind of paradise he had here.

  The Christiansen family owned the most gorgeous swath of two hundred acres in northern Minnesota. The resort sat on the shore of a glorious lake, and a woodchip path edged by rocks wound through the property, connecting twelve log-sided cabins, all with freshly painted red or green doors, a spray of impatiens in the window and deck boxes. They all faced the view, Adirondack chairs on the decks perfect for reading a book or listening to the loons at night.

  A lodge house featured a giant stone patio with a built-in grill and picnic tables under a pavilion, and beyond that, a trail led down to a point where a campfire ring suggested long conversations while sparks flickered into the night.

  “It’s beautiful, Darek,” Ivy said as she walked with him. He’d given her a tour, pointing out places where he’d played as a child, trees he’d climbed, the rope swing. She pictured him as a teenager, swinging out over the water.

  What might it be like to grow up in one place, to see your history every time you stepped outside?

  Tiger would have that. He ran ahead of them on the path, chasing a yellow Lab.

  “What’s the dog’s name?”

  “Butter. Actually it’s Butterscotch. My father got the dog for my mother after she lost a baby.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, it was after Amelia, a surprise pregnancy. Of course, a dog’s no substitute for a child, but Butter seemed to try. She followed my mom everywhere. She’s about fourteen, and we live in fear that she’s not long for this world.”

  The dog ran up to them, holding a slimy ball in her teeth. Darek pried it out but only tossed it down the trail. Butterscotch waddled after it.

  “This is an amazing place to grow up.”

  “That’s the bulk of our business—return guests who spent their childhoods here and want to share it with their children. Too bad the kids aren’t interested in their parents’ legacy.”

  She looked up, troubled by his words. “Why not?”

  “They want the conveniences, the excitement of life plugged in. They don’t yet realize what they’re missing.”

  “Which is?”

  He smiled at her. “Evergreen Resort, of course.”

  She laughed, and when Butterscotch returned, Ivy bent down and rubbed the dog behind the ear.

  “Oh, she likes you.”

  “No. All dogs like this. You just have to know where to rub.”

  “Dogs, kids. You have hidden talents.”

  “You learn to adapt when you live out of a suitcase,” she said, letting the dog go.

  He frowned as they came up to the patio.

  His father, John, manned the grill, flipping burgers and brats. Definitely the patriarch of the family, he was a tall man with broad shoulders under a brown plaid shirt, rolled up to the elbows, a baseball cap over his shaved head. John had the kind of smile that would have made a little girl want to call him Daddy.

  Ingrid, Darek’s mother, directed traffic. She wore a green sleeveless blouse, a pair of black jean capris, her blonde hair held back by a headband, like some sort of fifties housewife.

  Ivy’s mother had looked ancient and worn from the day she gave birth to her, it seemed. Her last memory of the woman had been at the foster care offices, relief drawn into her mother’s face as she said good-bye.

  Grace, the blonde daughter from Pierre’s Pizza, stirred the potato salad, wearing a white chef’s apron. Amelia, Darek’s youngest sister, snapped photos of the activity, capturing the image of Tiger jumping off the deck railing into Darek’s arms.

  “Careful, pal. I might not have seen you. What if I didn’t catch you?” he said, swinging the boy up on his shoulders.

  “Daddy, you’ll always catch me!” Tiger raised his arms high, towering over them.

  Casper, who’d ridden in on his motorcycle, looked no more tame tonight than when she’d seen him at the hospital. He came over and gave the kid a high, high five. Tiger laughed.

  The air smelled of burgers, rich and thick, and with the exception of an occasional rumble in the sky, nothing could mar this perfect Independence Day celebration.

  That was, if Ivy didn’t screw it up. Don’t be overeager. She kept rolling that mantra through her head as she smiled, laughed, listened. She wanted to drink it in, try to understand their expectations before she cracked open the door to her life.

  Fourteen different foster homes did that to a person. Yes, she wanted them to like her so much she could taste it.

  She’d thought she was past this.

  “I’ve got to run down to the fire pit. I’ll be right back,” Darek said, putting Tiger down.

  He left her as Ingrid came through the sliding-glass door holding a giant Tupperware bowl of Grace’s potato salad. “Ivy, could you grab the pitcher of punch that’s on the counter?”

  “No problem,” Ivy said and ducked inside to grab the punch. She added it to the table of goodies, then returned for the cups.

  “Smile!” Amelia snapped her picture just after she turned.

  “Oh. I wasn’t ready.”

  “I like the impromptu ones best.” She turned the camera around. “See how
cute you are?”

  In the shot, Ivy wore a strange, unfamiliar smile, and it raised a lump in her throat.

  She set the cups on the table and watched Darek come up the trail from the fire pit. “I put jugs of water out, just in case something happens and the wind takes the blaze out of our control,” he said to his father, who nodded.

  But she couldn’t help asking, “Why? It seems like it’s going to rain.”

  He looked at the sky. “I don’t know. It’s been thundering for an hour, but the air doesn’t feel like rain. It just feels sharp. Like flint.”

  “Darek has Spidey senses when it comes to reading the weather for fire hazard,” Casper said, waging a thumb war with Tiger. He let Tiger pin his thumb. “Oh, you got me!”

  Tiger erupted into giggles.

  “Dare used to be on the Jude County Hotshot team,” Amelia said, capturing the tussle with her camera.

  “What’s that?”

  “The United States has a number of specialized hotshot teams around the country whose job it is to fly in and assist the local population fighting wildland fires,” Darek said, opening a bag of potato chips, stealing one, and then dumping them into a bowl.

  “Darek was training for a fire management position,” John said. “Someone hand me a serving plate.”

  “Scared me to death to see him on the news—or pictures of him. All covered in soot, wearing a bright-orange Nomex helmet, looking as if he’d walked through hell.” Ingrid held the plate as John slid juicy burgers onto it. “I felt better when Jens—” She cut herself off, smiled. “Never mind. Should we pray for dinner?”

  Darek shot a look his mother’s direction. Then he bowed his head.

  Ivy closed her eyes as she listened to John bless their dinner. She’d lived with many families who shared this tradition, but listening to John’s voice as he asked for God’s blessing on their day and food seemed . . . well, not at all like a tradition. But as if he might truly mean it.

  They amened like a football team, announcing it together, and then Darek handed her a plate.

  He put his strong hand on her back and nudged her toward the serving table as he leaned close and spoke into her ear. “We eat big and fast here. I’ll run interference for you.”