A Mother’s Heart
Sweet Hearts of Sweet Creek #6
Carolyne Aarsen
Chapter 1
“Emma, we’re leaving in ten minutes,” Claire called out from the kitchen, loud enough for her daughter, hiding in her bedroom, to hear.
Claire grimaced at the sandwich she wrapped up, aware of the irony of making her daughter a PBJ when, at the coffee shop she owned, she had healthy spinach and feta wraps, turkey and goat cheese sandwiches and yogurt cups with organic granola.
But Emma loved her PBJ. And she loved them on very unhealthy white bread and because Claire was tired of having her very healthy lunches return uneaten, she gave in. With the litany of other complaints Emma had tossed her way about school - complaints about her not having a father while all the other kids did - Claire had chosen to pick her battles.
“Emma. Are you coming?” Claire called again, snapping the lunch box shut and slipping it in her daughter’s backpack. She walked out of their tiny kitchen apartment and listened.
Nothing. No giggle from her daughter pretending she was lost. No whine from their dog, Mooch, wanting to go outside.
Panic kicked in and Claire struggled to push it down; the endless burden of being a single parent clawed at her.
She told herself to relax. That little stinker had slipped outside again.
Claire grabbed her jacket, purse and Emma’s backpack and rushed to the front door, despite her attempt at self-comfort. She locked the deadbolt of the apartment, giving the door an extra pull to make sure the wonky lock worked, making yet another mental note to talk to the landlord about it. She hurried down the stairs and shoved open the metal back door.
As soon as she stepped outside, she heard Mooch barking and Emma calling out.
But Emma and Mooch weren’t in the dirt-packed yard of the apartment building and, as Claire glanced at the opening in the fence between the apartment and the neighbor’s house, her heart sunk.
Emma and their dog were in Mrs. Blatchford’s yard. Again.
Trouble was, their dear, elderly neighbor hadn’t lived there for over half a year, choosing to rent the furnished house out.
However, the previous occupants had moved out three weeks ago, much to Emma’s dismay. The family had a little boy close to Emma’s age, and they always played together. Now that he was gone, Emma would slip into the yard and play on the swings and slide on her own, talking to herself as if she had a friend with her. Claire had caught her doing this before, and it broke her heart. Emma should have a sister, like Claire had. Someone growing up alongside her.
But that wasn’t happening soon.
Never, if Claire had her way. She had learned too well the dangers of counting on a man to make family a priority. Andy had taught her that lesson all too well.
Just as she was about to walk around the fence dividing the properties, Emma’s cry rang out. Claire’s mothering instinct kicked in. No time to go the right way. She ducked through the small gap in the decrepit wooden fence, thankful she could make it through, then her eyes skittered over the yard.
Emma stood by the swings she loved, sobbing her little heart out. Claire dropped her purse and the backpack and rushed to her daughter’s side.
And as she did, she noticed a man in the far corner of the yard, hanging on to Mooch’s collar, restraining their over-exuberant lab. The man was tall and lean with brown hair. Easy on the eyes, but his face was creased with lines of irritation. A new renter? For the past few days Claire had wondered who owned the unfamiliar truck which was parked beside the house.
“Honey, what’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?” Claire dropped to her knees in the long, damp grass. She checked Emma’s face and her neck, looking for bruises or bumps or worse, blood. She seemed okay.
Emma’s sniffed, settling down as Claire pulled her close.
“I’m not hurt. But that man is being mean to Mooch,” she cried.
Claire glanced at “that man”, who struggled to keep his hold on their dog.
“I was inside the house and I saw your dog digging in the flower bed,” he explained, holding onto the collar, answering her unspoken question. He had a deep voice. Resonant. His t-shirt strained over broad shoulders and muscled arms. Claire fought down a flicker of appeal, forcing her mind back to the current situation. “I tried to stop him,” he continued. “That’s when I saw your little girl playing on the swing. She started crying, and the dog was barking.”
His frown deepened as the tone of his voice grew defensive. While Claire was upset her daughter was crying she knew Emma should not have trespassed.
Even though Claire would soon buy the property, if this guy was renting the place, it was technically his property; her daughter was trespassing and so was their dog. His annoyance surprised her, however. Most renters didn’t care much about the yards. Or flower beds. Especially not male renters. Especially not someone who would be moving out when Claire purchased the house.
“Mooch is so sad,” Emma wailed. “That man has to stop choking him.”
Still confused, Claire released Emma and her daughter ran over to Mooch, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around the dog’s neck. Mooch whined and pulled, his head bobbing as he struggled to get loose from the man’s grip.
She could see the man was about to let Mooch go.
“Wait,” she called out, running toward them. Mooch was still a pup. A large and exuberant pup who would easily drag Emma across the yard.
Claire reached Mooch and Emma just as the man released his hold on the collar. Claire grabbed for the dog but was tripped up by Emma, who struggled to hang on to Mooch. The dog spun around to lick Claire, pulling her around and sending Emma flying. Claire tried to reach her but the dog knocked her over.
And as they tumbled down in a flurry of legs and arms, Claire fell against their new neighbor.
He caught her by the shoulder, spinning so she landed on top of him. She lay there a moment, stunned. Then, realizing she was lying on top of a stranger, Claire struggled to her feet.
Mooch must have thought they were playing and jumped on top of them and Claire went down again.
Finally the guy got to his knees, taking Claire up with him as she fought to regain her balance. For a moment they kneeled, facing each other.
Up close he was even better looking. Thick lashes framed deep brown eyes shadowed by a frown, his mouth unsmiling but appealing. Stubble shaded his strong jaw and his thick hair was awry. Claire felt a wayward desire to straighten it.
She shook it off, pulled herself free and got to her feet just as he caught Mooch again. Emma stood beside them, her head tilted to one side.
“So, lady, could you please get control of this critter?” he said to Claire, the irritation in his voice justified but still a tad annoying. Technically, it wasn’t her fault.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said, breathless now as she brushed her pants, looking with dismay at the streak of dirt down the front of them and her once-white shirt. She looked back up at him, her cheeks on fire.
“Is Mooch okay?” Emma asked.
Thanks for the concern for your poor mother, Claire thought.
“Mooch is in trouble,” Claire said firmly. She turned back to their neighbor. “I’ll take him now.”
The man blew out a sigh then shoved his hand through his hair, messing it even more. “Just hang onto him. I don’t want him to get away again. He’s done enough damage.” Claire took Mooch, and as their neighbor walked over to the corner of the yard, her heart sunk.
Mrs. Blatchford’s flower bed was now a mound of dug-up dirt, some spread out over the lawn.
Bricks from the edging had been torn out and the remains of hollyhocks, lilies and various other plants littered the rest of the bed. Mooch had done a real number on it.
Claire had helped Mrs. Blatchford plant many of those perennials because some day the house, the yard and this flower bed would be Claire’s. She and Mrs. Blatchford had drawn up an Agreement for Sale giving Claire first dibs at buying this house. Then Mrs. Blatchford, in her generosity, had also given Claire six months to pull a down payment together.
All summer Claire had watched from her apartment window which overlooked part of the yard, as the flowers bloomed, creating an ongoing display of color and beauty that Claire enjoyed from afar, knowing that soon she could look out of the kitchen window of the house and see it up close.
It had taken her the full six months to save most the money she needed for the down payment. The last few thousand would come when her cousin paid her for her deceased husband’s irresponsible choice of a sport’s car.
“I’m sorry about what Mooch did,” Claire said to the man who still looked annoyed.
She didn’t blame him. She was annoyed, too. One more thing for her to fix up once she bought the house.
He nodded, then frowned as he held her gaze. “You look familiar. Didn’t your parents own the hardware store in town?”
“Still do,” Claire said, puzzled as she struggled to remember him.
“Sorry. I used to live here,” he said, pointing to the house. “I’m Nik. Nik Austen.”
His name sounded familiar but as she tried to place him, something else he’d said registered.
“Used to live here? In this house?”
“For a few years.”
Claire scoured her memory and a hazy picture emerged of a tall, gangly boy with unkempt hair and a ripped shirt walking up the sidewalk of the house.
The house Claire, Tess and her parents used to live in. The house that held Claire’s fondest memories. The house she hated leaving behind when their family moved to a larger, more modern home on an acreage just out of town.
After her family moved, Claire would bike down her old street from time to time, taking the long way home from school, just to make sure the new owners were taking care of the house she so yearned to return to.
The new house was all angles and glass and metal and, even worse, often echoed with the angry voices of parents arguing over a purchase, she realized later, they couldn’t afford. This house, with its dormers and bay windows and porches front and back, had been more of a home to her than the new one.
“That’s right. But you never went to school here, did you?”
“I was home-schooled by my foster parents,” he said, his voice taking on a cold, hard tone.
His comment reminded her of the wild stories the boys at school made up about him because they seldom saw the kid living in Claire’s old house. They said he was crazy. Maybe even a murderer. That’s why he never came to school. Whenever anyone did see him, he looked untidy and angry.
Then, after a couple of years, the family sold the house to Mrs. Blatchford and moved away. Nik and his odd family faded from everyone’s memory.
“And now you’re back?” Claire asked.
“Yeah. For a while. I guess if I'll be your new neighbor I should introduce myself,” Nik said, his mouth curving into a half-grin that belied the previous tone of his voice. His smile enhanced the shape of his mouth and created an appealing fan of wrinkles around his incredible brown eyes.
Claire shook off her reaction, realizing she hadn’t returned his courtesy. So she took his hand, hers engulfed by his. “Sorry. I’m Claire. Claire Donnel — sorry — Kruger.” Though she’d been on her own for five years, her married name still slipped out at times.
“Good to meet you,” he said. “So you and your husband live next door in the apartment?”
“My daughter and I do. My husband passed away a year ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” Nik said.
“Don’t be. You didn’t know.” Claire waved off his apology, stifling a flare of shame at her evasive answers. It had been difficult returning to Sweet Creek as a single mother, abandoned by the man who felt he ‘had’ to marry her when they found out she was expecting Emma. Claire thought she was in love, so she had agreed. But as soon as Emma was born, Andy couldn’t deal with it all and left. Now that her ex-husband was dead she felt she could pass herself off as a widow.
“So you’re only here for a couple of weeks?” she asked, feeling the need to be at least a little neighborly even as Mooch tugged on his collar and Emma lingered, swinging her purse around.
In ten days, Claire would sign the final Purchase Agreement on the house and take it over. She was surprised that Devon Grey, Mrs. Blatchford’s son, agreed to such a short-term rental.
“I’m here to connect with my mother and sister. See how it goes."
Another memory solidified.
“Nik Austen. You’re Cory’s brother. Joyce’s son.” Cory, her friend and part-time helper at Coffee Creek Cafe, had been over the moon excited when her fiancé, Matthew, had found Nik. All her life Cory had lived in the hope that the brother her mother gave up for adoption would come back into her life.
And now, here he was.
“Have you seen Cory yet?” she asked. “I know she was gone for the weekend.”
“We’re meeting tonight.” He sounded evasive and Claire understood that finally seeing his biological mother would be difficult for both him and his mother.
“We should go, Mommy,” Emma said.
“Of course.” She had lingered long enough. “I hope you enjoy your stay in Sweet Creek and again, I’m sorry about what Mooch did to the flower beds.”
Nik shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll get Devon to knock some off the selling price for the damage.”
Claire almost gave him a polite smile and turned to leave but what he’d said caught her attention.
“Knock some off the selling price? What do you mean?” Claire’s breath slipped out of her and her thoughts were a jumble of questions.
“I’m buying the place. It’s not a done deal yet, but we’re working out some kinks. Apparently there’s an Agreement for Sale in place right now but the conditions on it will run out in a week and Devon Grey doesn’t think the buyer can meet them.”
Claire’s heart thudded. Her head spun. She was the buyer Devon didn’t think could meet the conditions. She was the one who needed to meet them in a week.
“You might buy the house?” she asked, surprised at how even her tone was.
“Not buying the house. More like buying the property. It’s a great location and a huge piece of real-estate. The house is junk though. I’ll tear it down and build a fourplex if I can get the town to zone for that.”
“Tear it down?” Again, she sounded like an idiot as she processed what he said. She had to leave but she couldn’t let go of their conversation.
“Yeah. That’s what I do. Either fix up a house and flip it or do an infill. Been doing it for years.” He spoke to her like she was a rather slow child. “But this house isn’t worth fixing, so I’ll do an infill. Then I'll take the money and head out again.”
Panic clawed its way up Claire’s chest at his casual dismissal and assumption that his plans would go ahead.
She had to contact Devon Grey. Immediately.
“Mommy, I should go to school,” Emma put in, practicality taking priority over Claire’s confusion.
Claire shook off the dread clenching her stomach, pulling herself back to the task at hand. “Can you get your backpack and Mommy’s purse and bring them to the car?” she asked Emma, jerking her chin toward the bags lying on the grass by the swing set.
“I can,” Emma called out as she skipped off.
Claire turned back to Nik trying to tamp down her fear, her heart pounding. “I gotta go. See you around.” She spun around, sucking in one breath after another as she walked back to the fence.
She felt as if she had been hit in the stomach.
>
Devon had another buyer for the house. A buyer who wanted to tear it down. Why didn't he tell her?
Don’t panic. Don’t panic, she reminded herself as she slipped through the hole in the fence, her thoughts a painful jumble. A few phone calls would straighten this out.
“Mooch wasn’t a very good dog, was he?” Emma asked when they were on the other side of the fence. “I hope he’s good for Gramma when we bring him there.”
Claire closed her eyes a moment to center her spinning thoughts, turning to the next thing she had to deal with.
“He'll be fine.” She didn’t really care if Mooch behaved.
Her mother was the one who gave the dog to Emma for her birthday this spring against Claire’s express wishes. However, Mooch couldn’t stay in the apartment while Emma was in school and Claire was at work, so Mooch got to stay with Claire’s mother during the day.
“Are you okay, Mommy?” Emma asked as Claire took her purse from her daughter, rummaging through it for her car keys. “You look mad.”
“I’m fine,” Claire said, her tone short as she struggled with her wavering emotions.
“Am I in trouble for going on Mrs. Blatchford’s yard?” Emma's voice quavered.
Claire pushed her frustration aside and gave Emma a tight hug. “No, honey, you’re not. It was a mistake, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry Mooch made a mess of the flowers.”
“I am, too,” Claire agreed, stroking Emma’s fine hair away from her face and dropping a gentle kiss on her forehead. “But it’s done and maybe we’ll have to help Mr. Nik fix it up.”
“He probably doesn’t know about the lilies,” Emma agreed as Claire opened the door of the car. Mooch jumped in and settled on the blanket on the seat and Emma climbed into her booster seat.
“He probably doesn’t,” Claire agreed, waiting to make sure Emma was buckled in before closing the door.
Before she got into the car, she shot a quick glance back at the house. To her consternation, she saw Nik standing on the back deck of the house, watching her.
Right at that moment, the memory of lying on top of him in his yard flashed back. She shook off her humiliation and walked around the car, got in and drove away.
A Mother's Heart (Sweet Hearts of Sweet Creek Book 6) Page 1
