He blinked. Did he imagine the words, or had the band affected his hearing?
She stepped onto the grass and looked up at him. “Unless you’ve eaten already.”
“No, let’s do it. But you have to let me buy.” He released her hand against his will.
“That sounds like a date.”
“If you’re not comfortable with that, we’ll say it’s a celebration of your new position. Or a town board member officially welcoming you as a permanent resident.”
They walked toward the food vendors. “Very slick. I’ll take you up on it, however, since I owe you a date after the baseball practice fiasco.”
Blake palmed the small of her back. “You don’t owe me anything. I understand.” The unplanned gesture felt completely right and didn’t seem to bother Olivia, so he went with it. All the way to the vendor offering giant tenderloins and loaded nachos.
They ordered and Blake paid while the women secured a table.
Blake met up with them and dug into his sandwich. “How’s your barbecue, Mrs. Hudson?”
Sauce coated the woman’s fingers. Blake handed her a napkin and grinned when she refused it and licked her fingers instead. “Cliff makes better.”
Now Mrs. Hudson reached for the napkin.
“Who’s Cliff?”
“My grandpa,” Olivia said. “According to the journal I told you about, they used to camp a lot. Grandpa would slow cook barbecue over a fire. He made his own special sauce.”
Mrs. Hudson gazed into the distance, her eyes unfocused. Remembering. Or trying to, it seemed.
“Sounds good. Wish I’d have had the opportunity to sample it.”
Olivia sipped her soda. “Me, too.”
Fifteen minutes later, when he and Olivia were down to the last few bites of their meal, Mrs. Hudson still hadn’t come out of her daze. Olivia placed her hand over her grandma’s and gave it a little shake. “Grandma, are you going to finish your sandwich?”
Mrs. Hudson blinked. Then she turned toward Olivia with the saddest eyes Blake had ever seen. She pushed her food away.
Olivia’s forehead wrinkled. She reached across the table and tucked the sandwich back inside its foil wrapper. “We’ll save it for later.”
Blake unfolded his legs from under the picnic table and gathered his trash. “Are you going to the fireworks tonight? They’re setting them off at Middle River.”
She looked at Mrs. Hudson. “I don’t know. I think I’ll take her home for a nap and see how she is later.”
Blake dropped his mess into the trashcan. “I’ll be there if you decide to come. I’ll save you ladies a spot.”
Olivia nodded. She helped Mrs. Hudson up from the table, steadied her, and threw away their trash. “I’ll text if we decide to come.”
The women started to walk away. Blake still had no idea why Olivia had left her former life to start a new one here, but he was grateful she had. Stone Harbor was better with her in it. He was better.
“Livi?” he called.
She turned, one hand still wrapped around her grandma’s arm.
Blake swallowed a lump of emotion he wasn’t about to name. “Welcome home.”
22
We’re here.
Olivia sent the text and stepped from her car into the humid evening air. They still had at least thirty minutes before the sky would be dark enough to see fireworks. She smoothed the silky yellow shirt hugging her waist, brushed her fingers through her hair. An awful lot of fuss for a guy she wasn’t interested in being more than friends with. She met Grandma by the trunk. “Ready?”
“My purse.”
Olivia lifted the tote of drinks Grandma called a purse. “I’ll get it.” She rested the strap on her shoulder.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming message.
Meet me at the shelter house.
Olivia could make out the roofline in the distance. The challenge would be to get through the sea of strangers all scrambling for a good spot. Grandma didn’t like crowds, but Blake had promised to save them an area away from the mass.
They maneuvered around a group of cyclists walking their bikes on the path, taking them closer to the cart selling florescent necklaces. Grandma angled toward the merchandise. “Have.”
Olivia followed. “We need to find Blake before the fireworks start.”
“Have.”
Biting back a groan, Olivia fished in her purse for cash. Three families stood in line ahead of them. She craned her neck around a dad with a toddler on his shoulders and scanned the merchandise list. Four-ninety-nine! For one necklace? She looked around the darkening landscape. Neon necklaces everywhere.
The line moved quickly, but when it came Grandma’s turn to choose which color she wanted it was like trying to pick a favorite scent in a candle store—she had to examine each one.
“The pink would look nice on you.” Olivia handed the vendor a ten-dollar bill, ready to be on their way.
“Two.” Grandma plucked another pink necklace from the container.
“I think one is sufficient.”
“Two. You.” Grandma handed the other necklace to Olivia.
The vendor smiled.
“Keep the change,” Olivia grumbled.
They continued to the shelter house. The soft glow from inside lit Blake’s familiar form standing by the water spigot, hands in his shorts pockets, handsome as ever in a gray T-shirt that rested flawlessly over farm-sculpted brawn. Stubble that hadn’t covered his cheeks that morning shadowed his face as he smiled. “I was about to send out a search party.”
She willed her hormones to calm down. “Sorry, we had a detour.” She held up the necklace.
Blake’s gaze flicked to Grandma, who was proudly wearing her new purchase. “Ah. I found a place further down from the blast site. Hopefully, the noise won’t bother her as much. You think she’s up for walking?” He glanced at his watch.
“We’ll manage.”
He led them to a little knoll facing the bank. As promised, the area wasn’t nearly as congested. Hundreds of blankets spread across the grass below them, occupied by families and couples.
Blake stopped at a spread of quilts. A can of bug spray and an empty cup rested on the grass beside them. He unfolded a lawn chair and set it beside the quilt. “I brought this for Mrs. Hudson. Thought it might be easier on her than the hard ground.”
Warmth spread through her chest. Even she hadn’t thought of that. “Thank you.”
He guided Grandma onto it. Grandma patted his hand. “Bradley.”
Blake winked.
With two blankets, Olivia didn’t need to sit right next to Blake, but after slipping off her sandals, she did anyway, curling her knees to her chest and folding her arms around them. At the bottom of the hill, sparklers flashed in a circle of children chasing each other.
Blake bumped his elbow with hers. “How’d you do today?”
“We brought in more revenue than we have on a single day in the last five years. We still have a lot of catching up to do, but the new cake service is going well. And once I get the Wi-Fi and furniture in the nook, I think more locals will spend time there.”
“I have a truck. Let me know when you’re ready to pick up your furniture.”
“You’ve done so much for us already, Blake. I can’t keep relying on you.”
“Yes, you can.” The deep timbre of his voice dropped on his last word.
She shivered. There was no end to the man’s kindness, and she often found herself wanting to curl up in it like a heated blanket. She leaned a little closer. “Why didn’t you have a booth today?”
“Nothing’s ready yet. I’ll start harvesting in about a month. I have a booth saved at the Machias Blueberry Festival in August.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“It is. You should come with me.”
Maybe she would. Though it was hard to plan ahead when she was still living from one day to the next. Each day brought its own challenges. Not only with Grandma’s care,
but with taking her life back. Loneliness was a hard enemy to beat. She’d not only lost her family and her home, but she’d also lost her future. A murdered dream with someone she’d thought loved her.
Being with Justin was nothing like being with Blake. Justin had always been content in their relationship, which had not been digressing but hadn’t grown either. Justin had never pushed her, never challenged her, never expected much from her at all. Blake nudged her, in his quiet and good way, to expand.
She’d loved Justin. Had since childhood. It was only natural that when they’d started dating their senior year and continued throughout their four years of college that they marry. But practicality didn’t equal love. Now she wondered if what they’d shared had ever amounted to real love at all.
Spending time with Blake both eased her smothering loneliness and made it worse.
A loud boom rent the air. Multi-colored fireworks burst into the night sky. They sizzled away, and others took their place. The water on Middle River lay smooth as glass, reflecting a mirror image of the pyrotechnics.
She and Blake stretched their legs in front of them. The night heat brought out the scent of his cologne, the same sea spray and sunshine aroma she’d detected in his room the day she’d toured his house. She was comfortable with Blake now that they’d spent so much time together. However, fireworks on a hot summer night brought a level of intimacy to their relationship that made her pulse rush, despite telling herself—repeatedly—to remain on firm ground.
Blasts of white filled the sky. A dog barked in the distance to her right, drawing her attention to the elderly couple sitting not ten feet away. “Is that Mrs. Campbell and Arthur Greene?”
Blake followed her finger and smiled. “It is.”
Olivia sat, stunned. The couple sat side by side in lawn chairs, Eugenia’s head nestled on Arthur’s shoulder. Olivia hadn’t seen either one since the day at the beauty shop. When had the couple reconciled? Who had made the first move? The sky’s display no longer held Olivia’s attention. She stared at the couple, dumbfounded.
Love endureth all things.
Maybe somehow, some way, it did.
A warm touch, calloused yet gentle, skimmed the top of her hand. Though she couldn’t pull her teary gaze off the older couple, she turned over her palm to meet Blake’s. He linked their fingers together. Her chest burned with an unfamiliar sensation. Painful. Yet awakening. She glanced down at their entwined hands, terrified and in complete awe. His thumb rubbed hers. She swallowed.
Hopeth all things.
~*~
October 1955
The day our Jonathan was born. Headstrong, opinionated, and independent from the moment he took his first breath. Look at those ruddy cheeks. The set of his jaw. Oh, but I was a proud papa. Despite all your fears, the ones that had you apprehensive about having babies at all, you were a proud mama.
Fear is debilitating. It keeps us from experiencing so many things. We cling to fear because we think it keeps us safe, when what it really does is robs us of possibilities. Blessings.
See what you would’ve missed if you’d have continued believing you’d be a terrible mother? “For God hath not given us a spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” II Timothy 1:7
You’re a great mother, Elizabeth. I know you’re in a dark place right now, hurting and scared. I am too. But let fear go. I need you. Jonathan needs you. What happened isn’t his fault. He needs his mother. Needs to know you love him.
Let fear go.
23
Olivia couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time she called her mother.
Curling her legs behind her on the couch, she covered them with a blanket. The only light in the room came from the muted television where Mr. Smith Goes to Washington played in silence. Sheer curtains rustled from the breeze of the open window. At eight o’clock, Grandma and her new companion, Sydney, were tucked in bed, allowing Olivia at least an hour of free time before she made her way upstairs.
She scrolled through her phone contacts and tapped on her mother’s name, pressing a hand to her stomach. This shouldn’t be difficult. The two of them had rarely agreed on anything in the past—clothes, friends, careers. Olivia doubted her decision to remain in Stone Harbor would be any different.
The muffled hum of several voices bled through the line. “You mean I get to talk, actually talk, to my daughter? No emails? No texting?”
Here it was. The familiar disapproval. “I know it’s been a while. I’m sorry for that.”
“You’ve called three times in six months. Counting this one.”
True. And each time, Mom had spent at least an hour relaying every ugly detail of her father’s infidelity, every argument between them, and every possession they were fighting over in court. Each time when Olivia hung up the phone, she sat in stunned silence as the walls closed in around her, the security of her life slipping further away.
“I’ve had a lot going on, Mom. Grandma’s stroke complicated things. I’ve had to work hard to keep the bakery from going bankrupt. Grandma had appointments, and I’m working with the other merchants to boost tourism.” Why was she defending herself? She’d done nothing wrong.
“That’s a lot for someone who’s only there temporarily…”
The last word hung in the air like the blade of a guillotine.
Olivia closed her eyes, as if that would lessen the blow. “I’m staying. Permanently.”
A pause. “I wondered how long it would take you to tell me.”
Olivia pulled the blanket up to her chest, the comfortable breeze suddenly becoming chilly. “You knew?”
“Of course, I did. Your father and I still talk. It’s just a lot louder and usually includes our lawyers.”
How did a man and woman married for thirty years wake up one day and decide they weren’t in love anymore? How was it easy to abandon the very principles on which they’d founded their lives? Branded on their daughter?
How was that daughter supposed to sort those shattered pieces for signs of truth?
How could she not feel as though her whole life was based on a lie?
Olivia curled her fingers into the chenille blanket. “I found a scrapbook journal Grandpa made for Grandma. I’ve been reading it, and it sounds as if something devastating happened when Dad was little. Do you know anything about it?”
Mom sighed. “For years I’ve suspected something haunts that man, but I’ve never been able to get him to open up about his childhood. He’s too focused on the future, on cushioning his bank account. And now his bed.”
For the next twenty minutes, Olivia sat, numb, watching the movie while her mother ranted over who should get the house, the vehicles, and Dad’s retirement fund.
Why didn’t Olivia, who’d been trained and paid well to put people’s broken lives back together, have the power to fix her parents?
Because she wasn’t God.
Her mother hadn’t asked to be cheated on, to be tossed aside for a younger, more voluptuous version. It wasn’t fair. A marriage took two to make it work, and both her parents were guilty of letting the marriage fizzle out. But in order for Olivia to function, to move on with some semblance of her life, she couldn’t be stuck in the middle of all the ugliness.
“Four-thirty comes quickly, Mom. I need to get to bed. If you need anything, call. Try and hang in there.”
“I’m hanging in just fine.” Her fake enthusiasm proved it. “I’m out with a few girlfriends, having cocktails. All is good!”
Cocktails? Her mother didn’t drink.
At least she didn’t used to.
Another wholesome part of Olivia’s life scrambled like liquid in a blender. Tears pricked her eyes. “Love you, Mom. Call you soon.”
After ending the call and tossing her phone aside, Olivia curled into a ball in the corner of the couch and rested her head against the arm. A soft whine sounded from the floor. Olivia lifted Sydney beside her and rubbed her chin against the dog’s silky fur
.
Olivia loved her mother with all her heart, but she’d always been a daddy’s girl. What had made him think just because she was grown she didn’t need him anymore? As thoughts of this faceless woman, days older than Olivia, tortured her mind, she buried her face in Sydney’s neck and wept.
24
Warm house. Full fields. Empty life. Though, a pretty little baker had let Blake hold her hand the other night. As middle school as that was, it was something. He’d finally scaled her wall of ice. Now to melt it down to expose all her layers.
Blake took the porch steps two at a time and went into the house. Scooby scratched at the screen door, wanting in, too. “Come on, old man.”
Scooby trotted past him and into the living room without a glance. Tired pooch. He was just as beat and ready to cool off as Blake was.
He toed off his boots and climbed the stairs to his bedroom, peeling his shirt from his sticky skin. Shower, then food.
A ring echoed through the silent house. His landline. He jogged down the steps and snatched it from the base by the couch. “This is Blake.”
“Hey, son. I’ll make this quick. I only have a few minutes until your mom gets back in the car. I’m throwing her a surprise sixtieth birthday party.”
“Um, great. Are you sure though? Women are funny about their age.”
“I feel bad for ruining her fiftieth with a heart attack, so I thought I’d throw her one this year—invite everyone we know, make a big deal out of it.”
“You had no control over the heart attack, and not celebrating her birthday was the least of her worries.”
Then his father’s words penetrated. Blake lowered onto the edge of the couch. “When you say you’re inviting everyone, I assume you mean Lucas? As much as I love Mom, I won’t be there if he’s coming.”
Dad sighed. Probably at how immature Blake’s comment sounded. “Your brother can’t make it. Madison has some fancy banquet she has to attend for work, and she wants your brother there.”
Selfish as always. “When’s the party?”
“Last minute, a week from tomorrow.”
“Wow.” Blake scratched the back of his head. “Let me know how I can help.”
How to Stir a Baker's Heart Page 13
