by Skye Taylor
“You live here now,” Jake answered patiently for the twelfth time.
Celia peered at Jake appraisingly. “What is wrong with the house you grew up in?”
“It’s too big for us now. This will be much easier to take care of.”
“Oh, that’s so good of you to think of. I really don’t care for housework very much.” Celia ran her hand along the bare surface of her dresser. “Where are my pictures?”
“They’re right here.” Zoe lifted a canvas tote onto the bed and took out the first newspaper-wrapped frame. She handed it to Celia and reached for a second.
“Are you sure she’s going to be okay?” Jake whispered in a worried voice.
He was suddenly so close she could feel the heat of him and sense the tension and worry. Zoe continued unwrapping framed photos and handing them to Celia. If she turned around right now, she knew she’d fling her arms about him and hug him in reassurance. And it would have nothing to do with her overwhelming desire for him to close his arms about her in response. Nothing at all!
Ha! Who was she fooling?
Porter had called on Monday as promised. And she’d listened to his renewed urging to accept his proposal for Molly’s sake if not for her own. Zoe had said little but pictured Jake folding baby clothes during the entire conversation. Yesterday hadn’t been any better.
Maybe if she didn’t see Jake for a few weeks, this aching need to be close to him would fade, and the idea of being married to Porter would seem less daunting. It was what she should do. Time her visits to Celia when Jake was at work or at the fire station. Stop sitting on her porch gazing at Jake’s house, hoping he would just happen to see her there and come over to chat. And stop the wishful thinking and get serious about Porter’s proposal.
Her father would be pleased if she married Porter. He’d be happy to have her back in Wilmington again, too. Closer to his sphere of influence. Close enough to act as his hostess again whenever he wanted to entertain. Close enough to be used again, came the unbidden reaction to that last thought. Zoe ground her teeth.
“What are you thinking about that has you looking so grim?” Jake dropped onto the bed and looked up at Zoe. She made the mistake of looking at him, and the earnest concern in his soft gray eyes lanced right into her heart.
“My father!” Zoe replied, hastily looking away. She handed Celia the last of the photos and folded up the tote.
“You looked like you wanted to hit someone. I’m glad it’s not me. What’s your father gone and done now?”
Zoe’s shoulders slumped. He really does care. Like Bree cares. Like my brothers care. But it’s not enough. I want it all.
“Nothing. Not really. I was just . . . well, never mind.” She pasted a smile on her face and turned to face Jake again. “Is everything in from the truck?”
“It is. What needs doing next?”
“Hang all the things in that suitcase in her closet. The hangers are in a box somewhere.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jake got off the bed and started rummaging through the half-unpacked boxes.
Celia had taken the photo of Martin and carried it to her rocker where she sat humming softly to herself as she touched the faded face. Zoe had come to the conclusion that Celia’s first love had been the older brother, rather than the younger one whom she’d eventually married. She rarely spoke of Richard anymore, and her entire focus seemed to be on Martin. Perhaps the teenage crush Celia had confessed to had been very much more than that, but Celia had been too young to catch Martin’s eye. Only now that both Richard and Martin were long dead, and Celia’s mind had returned to the distant past, she was free to express her feelings for the gallant young soldier she’d pined for so futilely.
Zoe considered the strange coincidence that she and Celia had both had fallen irrevocably in love with a man who hadn’t even been aware of their feelings. Celia had gone on to marry someone else. She’d had children by him and from what Jake had told Zoe, been happy with Richard. But she’d never forgotten her love for Martin. Zoe wondered if her life would be like Celia’s. If she married Porter because he was the father of her child, would she find some level of happiness in life, yet secretly dream of Jake and pine for what might have been for the rest of her days?
Trying to banish her unhappy musings, Zoe grabbed another suitcase and opened it on the bed. Then she pulled out the drawers in Celia’s dresser and began arranging her things exactly the same way they’d been before she’d taken them out of the dresser just a couple hours earlier. It was important that as much of Celia’s world remain the same as possible, and Zoe had carefully taken note, not just about how her clothing had been arranged, but where each photo had sat on the dresser top.
She glanced over her shoulder and noticed that Jake had apparently taken a similar mental catalog. Celia had a decided preference for lining all her clothes on hangers by order of color, her favorites to the right, the least favorites on the left. Jake had hung all Celia’s blue garments together on the right hand side of the closet. Next to them were green things, and now he was putting a yellow blouse on a hanger. She smiled at the thoughtfulness she’d come to know he was capable of. Marsha had been a fool.
Finished with his task, Jake gathered the remaining hangers and dumped them back into the box. Then he changed his mind and put a few of the extras on the rod.
“Done,” he announced, sliding the closet door shut.
His timing was perfect. Lunch, Zoe knew, was served at twelve thirty, and a staff member would show up soon to escort Celia to the dining room for her midday meal. It would be a good chance for Jake to take his leave of her. Zoe knew it was going to be hard for him.
Almost as if she’d conjured the young man up with her thoughts, a lanky, dark-haired man wearing a maroon tunic and a winning grin showed up at the door. “Ready for lunch, Mrs. Jolee?”
Celia looked up from the photo of Martin and frowned. “I should go home for my lunch.”
“Well, ma’am, today you are invited to dine with us,” the young man told her in an upbeat voice. “We are having cheesecake for dessert, and I’ve heard that’s your favorite.”
“Did you hear that, Jake? They’re having my favorite, and I’m invited.”
Jake gaped at Celia in surprise. Then his face sobered, and Zoe could see the battle he fought with his emotions. He held out his hand to his mother-in-law and helped her from the chair. Gently he removed the photo of Martin and replaced it on the dresser.
“I’ll meet you outside,” Zoe mumbled and grabbed her purse and a bundle of totes before hustling past the attendant and out the door.
She would give Jake his privacy. She knew if he broke down, she wouldn’t be able to resist comforting him. But right now she didn’t think she could deal with the feelings that would flood through her if he enveloped her in his embrace. She was way too emotional. So was Jake. What a maudlin pair they made.
She didn’t have long to wait. Jake showed up before she’d even had time to buckle her seat belt. He tossed the suitcases into the empty truck bed and hiked himself into the passenger seat. He handed her the keys then stared out the window, his eyes averted from her gaze.
Zoe put the key into the ignition. “She’s going to be okay, Jake.”
“I know,” Jake said in a husky voice. “It’s me that’s falling apart.”
Zoe put the truck in gear and backed out of the space before she could do something stupid. “You’ll be okay, too. You’ll be over here as often as you want, and I’m sure you’ll find she’s busy as a beaver keeping up with her new social life.”
“She won’t need me.”
Zoe was shocked at the raw, bare pain in Jake’s voice. She yanked the truck over into the first empty parking space she came to and put it into park. She reached across the cab of the truck and pushed the overlong bangs off Jake’s forehead, the
n touched his averted cheek with the tips of her fingers. “She’ll always need you, Jake. Just not in the same way.”
“She called me Jake,” he said, still struggling to maintain his composure. He stared out the window for another long moment before turning to face her. His eyes swam with tears. “She remembered . . . it was . . . me.” His voice broke.
Zoe gently brushed away the tears Jake probably didn’t even realize were running down his face.
Jake knew he’d given up his right to find solace and comfort from her, but at the moment, he wanted desperately to pull Zoe into his arms. It was a measure of her generosity that she’d come with him today at all, never mind expecting her to let him cry on her shoulder. He wished she were going home with him, not to fill the void left by Celia, but because there was a huge hole in his life where Zoe belonged. A hole he hadn’t known was there until he’d pushed her away.
With effort, Jake pulled himself together. “Sorry.” He backhanded the residue of tears out of his eyes and off his face. “It was supposed to be Celia breaking down, not me.”
“You know, Jake. I’ve seen the look in Celia’s eyes when she talks about Richard or Martin. She loved them both. Maybe Martin a little more than anyone ever knew. But she loved them both with all her heart. And she loves you just as much. She has the same happy smile in her eyes when she calls you Jake as she does when she thinks you’re Martin. So whenever you go to see her, she’ll be looking at you with that smile and remembering how good it feels to love and be loved. It won’t matter what name she calls you by. And it won’t matter that you aren’t there every minute. So much of her happiness is in her memories now, and she has those even when you can’t be there.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
But now that Zoe put it into words, he knew what she meant. He knew the bright smile that lit Celia’s face when he came in from work, or even just in from working in the yard. And he knew that so long as Celia favored him with that smile when he went to visit her, the connection between them would still be there.
Zoe put the truck back in gear, glanced over her shoulder, and then pulled out into the street. “You’re lucky.”
“Lucky how?” Jake gazed at Zoe’s profile, thinking how much luckier he’d be if he hadn’t messed things up between them. If Zoe’s mysterious visitor hadn’t shown up last Sunday and Jake still had a chance to fix the biggest mistake of his life.
“You have two mothers.” Zoe darted a sideways glance at him, then turned back to the road. “I haven’t had a mom since I was twelve. I’d give anything in the world if I could jump in the truck and go visit my mom any time I liked. Or call her on the phone. You’ve got a godmother who loves you, too. Even when she’s being difficult.”
Jake thought about the mothers in his life. The woman who’d given him life, bandaged skinned knees, and helped him with his homework. Who’d put up with his teenage arrogance, stood by him when he’d gotten into trouble, and applauded every achievement, however small. She was only a twenty-minute drive away on the other side of the bridge.
He thought about Celia and how she’d adopted him into her home and family without ever condemning the reason for it. She’d treated him better than he’d deserved and loved him as if he’d been her own son, rather than her son-in-law. Even Aunt Catherine with her inevitable criticism and endless advice was always there at the other end of the phone whenever he called. And if he had an emergency, she’d respond in an instant. Complaining about it maybe, but she’d be there and always had been.
He glanced across the width of the truck at Zoe’s profile and felt overwhelmed with chagrin. He had three mothers, and she had none. And he’d been acting like a spoiled brat just because he couldn’t keep things the way he wanted them to be.
“Thanks for giving me a kick in the butt to remind me.”
Zoe snickered. “You’re welcome. But if I really give you a kick in the butt, it’ll be for being stupid. Not because you’re going through a difficult time and you just needed a shoulder to cry on a little.”
Too bad someone hadn’t given him a kick in the butt about his relationship with Zoe before he’d screwed it up beyond redemption. That had been the stupidest thing he’d ever done—even more thoughtless than getting Marsha pregnant, and, as it turned out, with higher stakes.
The memory of that casually confident kiss he’d watched Zoe’s fancy visitor bestow on her flashed into his head.
“You had company Sunday. Before Celia, I mean.” Curiosity had been eating him up for days. The usually voluble Zoe, who chatted at length about everyone else in her life, had said nothing about the man or what he meant to her.
Zoe jerked her gaze toward Jake then immediately back to the road. She remained silent while she drove the last half-mile and turned the truck into Awbrey Circle. It was another minute before she finally answered. “Bree threw me a shower. I had a ton of company.” She turned into her driveway and pulled to a stop. “Didn’t Ava tell you all about it? It was fun, and everyone was incredibly generous. You should know. You helped fold it all.”
Without lingering, Zoe turned the engine off, then pushed her door open and slid out of the truck. Was she trying to avoid discussing the other visitor who’d come after all the women had gone? Jake was sick with jealousy, and he just couldn’t let it go.
He jumped out and turned to face her over the bed of the truck. “I saw a pretty fancy car pull up after all the ladies left. I thought maybe it was one of your brothers?”
Jake rested his forearms on the side of the truck bed and tried to act casual as she reached for her bundle of now-empty totes. He thought she flushed a little, but maybe that was his imagination.
“That was Porter Dubois.” Zoe wouldn’t meet Jake’s gaze. “He’s—he’s Molly’s father.”
Jake had been right. The way the man had kissed Zoe in that brief moment before one of them had closed the door had been pretty revealing. Jake’s imagination had conjured up a whole lot more in the way of intimacy once they were alone, even though he didn’t actually know if Zoe had welcomed Porter’s advances. Had she leaned into Porter the way she had when Jake had kissed her? Had she melted at Porter’s touch, returning his kiss with fire and sweet abandon?
Jake gripped the side of the truck so hard he half expected the metal to give under the pressure. Carefully, he relaxed his grip. “I realize it’s none of my business, but . . .” He’d made sure it was none of his business by crushing her hopes for anything serious between them. “. . . but I thought you said he didn’t want to be a father. What’s he doing here now?”
“He changed his mind.”
A red-hot flood of jealousy filled Jake’s head. Images raced through his mind. Setting up Molly’s crib while Zoe watched. Holding Zoe in his arms with her pregnant belly pressed hard against his groin. The incredible tenderness he’d experienced as he’d curved his hand around her stomach and felt her baby move. Those moments had been so sweet and so intimate. The idea of this guy Porter sharing anything like them with Zoe made Jake want to smash something. He ground his teeth in frustration, then got himself under control.
Zoe still wouldn’t look at him, so he gathered up the empty suitcases and walked around the back of the truck to stand next to her. “Took him long enough. You going to let him back into your life?” Jake did his level best to keep the jealousy out of his voice.
“I—I don’t know.” Zoe lifted her shoulders as if the weight of the world rested on them, then dropped them again and sighed heavily. “I don’t know.”
“Do you love him?”
“He’s Molly’s father.” Zoe did look at Jake then, but she hadn’t answered his question. “A girl needs a father, don’t you think?”
“Depends on the father,” Jake replied evenly.
“He asked me to marry him.”
Jake’s heart did a
nosedive into his boots. “And you said . . . ?”
“I didn’t say anything. Yet.”
Jake didn’t know if he should be on his knees begging for her forgiveness and pleading with her to consider marrying him instead, or if he should stay out of it and let her decide about Porter without complicating her life any more than it already was. It was on the tip of his tongue to say I love you. Marry me. Marry me, not this jerk Porter who didn’t know it when he had a good thing to start with.
Except Jake hadn’t known a good thing any better than Porter. Zoe deserved far better than either of them. And the fact of the matter was Porter was the biological father. If Zoe felt marrying him was the best thing for herself and Molly, she had the right to make that choice without Jake pulling her in a different direction.
“So . . . you’re thinking about it?”
“Oh, Jake. I just don’t know. I wish I knew why Porter changed his mind. I think I could make it work, if only I was sure about . . .”
“About what? His reasons?” That didn’t sound like a woman in love. But Jake wasn’t any expert in the arena of love and marriage. “Didn’t he tell you why?”
Zoe made a rueful face. “He did and he didn’t. I mean, he said all the right things. I just don’t know. I need time to think.”
“Take as much time as you need.”
“That’s what Porter said. But he calls every day to see if I’ve decided yet.”
“It won’t make any difference to Molly if your wedding anniversary is before or after her birthday in the long run. Just don’t jump into anything you aren’t totally sure about.”
“You really are a good friend, Jake. I’m sorry I lost sight of that.” Zoe put her hand against Jake’s chest for balance and tiptoed up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for the support and the advice.”
Jake forced himself not to drop the suitcases so he could pull her into his arms and turn a friendly kiss into a steamy declaration. He swallowed hard and let her step away. “My pleasure, ma’am.”
