Broken Barriers (Barriers Series Book 4)

by Shirley, Sara

  I turned back to the lake. My eyes roamed around from the boats to the marina. I caught a glimpse of a woman, who appeared about my age, wearing a baseball cap and a black tank top paddling her kayak onto a small sandy beach in front of a large bungalow across the bay. A woman who apparently bore just as much turmoil in her own life as I did in mine. And yet without even meeting me, she saw within my soul that I was broken in places. With a simple act of unselfish kindness, she brought a smile to my face. My mind rattled with different questions about her, but only one stood out more than the others.

  Was she the one who could finally put all the broken pieces back together again for me?

  I didn’t know the answer to that question right now, but I sure as hell was going to try to find out.

  Sleeping in was not an option the next morning, not when I had a toddler staying with me. It was as though I was back at boot camp training, and the drill instructor came in at zero five thirty in the morning to get the recruits ready for the day. Only this time the drill instructor was my nephew.

  Dean came barreling through my room before the sun was even above the mountains. The damn birds weren’t even awake yet, but he was ready to go. Damn kid reminded me of those toy cars—the ones you pulled the wheels backward and then BAM! The minute you let go it flew across the room. That was Dean.

  I was already slightly awake after having another minor flashback in my sleep. When I awoke a while before that, I flicked on the bedside lamp. It cast a warm glow in the room instead of the dreaded darkness. The good thing was that the flashbacks weren’t occurring every night anymore. Fact was, the haunting images were starting to fade, and memories of the fun times we’d shared were filtering in. I’d take that as a small victory in the “adjustment” department.

  Dean’s tiny hands kept smacking against the side of my bed until I paid attention to him. I heard Josh in the kitchen brewing coffee and laughing. I moaned in protest while I pulled the sheets further over my head. Dean grunted and squealed between the smacks. As he stood there bouncing and gnawing on his fingers, drool crept its way down his arm, and I cringed as I watched him. I was not getting bath duty again. Hell no. I already had the pleasure of that job last night while Josh cooked dinner out on the grill. More squeals and laughter bounced off my walls. Surely, any small wildlife animals that wanted to create a Zen-like morning for me were hiding at that moment. It was obvious I wasn’t going to sleep in any longer, so I gave in to Dean.

  I got even, though. Dean thought I wasn’t aware of his presence next to the bed. I played it off really well, just barely peeking my eyes out from under the sheet. Then I finally struck. I rolled over quicker than a gazelle in the wild and roared like a tiger at him. The soft morning light crept into the room, and it was now bright enough to see his face. He was standing there stone cold and silent. No laughter. No screeching. Nothing. His eyes softened, his lip quivered, and I watched as the waterworks flowed. Clearly, I was not nearly as experienced with kids as I thought. The morning went south, fast.

  Josh strolled in seconds later with a sippy cup filled with juice and a plush gray stuffed rhino, and all was right with the world again. Well, that was until he told me that we were all out of coffee, and then I nearly killed him.

  I had zero coffee, and I was grumpy as all shit because it was way too early to be up on a weekend. Dammit, this was way too early to be up period. Josh tried to feed me some shit about trying to be in his shoes and how I could never cut it as a cop. I wanted to refute that he’d never cut it as a Marine, but I kept my mouth shut. Instead, I agreed on all fronts that the hours he worked sucked in general, but guaranteed they wouldn’t run out of coffee. Ever.

  Thankfully, trying to find parking in downtown Wolfeboro at eight o’clock in the morning was not an issue. I pulled my Charger across from the tavern. At this hour, only a few people were out on a Sunday. A couple of older women jogged by. They easily carried on a conversation and politely waved as I passed them on the sidewalk. Another older gentleman with a long gray beard and red suspenders stretched over his protruding belly was walking his chocolate lab. He tipped his hat hello as he walked across the street and made his way down the boat docks.

  Cool morning fog sent an instant chill across my neck. I pulled the hood from my zipper-down sweatshirt over my messy damp hair and glanced around for the coffee shop. Everett said it was downtown, so it had to be here. Finally, a small hanging wooden sign over a doorway at the end of the street caught my eye. Trouvaille: Coffee, Confections, and Gallery were all printed in pink and white lettering over a black damask backdrop. Soft lights from inside caught my attention as I crossed the street.

  A handwritten chalkboard sign that hung on the door read Come on in. We’re open. I grabbed the brass door handle, pulling it toward me as I walked into the shop. A small bell over the door rang before I closed the door behind me. My senses were immediately on overload as the freshly ground coffee instantly changed my mood. A couple of people chatted at a table by the front window, but other than them, I was the only other person in the place.

  The floors were old, worn, wide plank wood, and the walls were covered in soft pale hues of cream colors. From front to back, framed photographs of all sizes decorated the walls. What appeared to be secondhand mismatched furniture was randomly placed. Each coffee table contained a fresh bouquet of colorful wildflowers in a small vase and a stack of used paperbacks with curved covers clearly from being read by many patrons over time.

  In the back of the store a large chalkboard was mounted over the order station, the menu all written in different colored chalk. A small wooden bar area with four high-top chairs sat at the window on the other side of the front door overlooking the street.

  Soft acoustic music filled the room as I made my way to the back of the shop toward the freshly brewed steaming pots of coffee. A smile formed on my face as I looked at the glass display case and noticed the chocolate drizzled croissants amongst the platters of other pastries and cupcakes. Glass-covered platters on the top of the case housed the muffins that caused my mouth orgasm the other morning along with baskets of baked breads and cookies. My stomach growled at the assault on my senses as I pulled my hoodie off my head and brushed my hair back.

  The moment I was standing at the register I heard some clattering of pans. “I’ll be right with you,” a voice called from the back, and suddenly a face appeared in the doorway. She stared at me for a split second before a gentle smile spread across her lips. She removed a black mustache printed apron with pink frills from her waist and tossed it to the side before walking in my direction in a pair of denim capris and a white tank top with a blue scarf around her neck. Her black ballet flats softly padded against the floor. She leaned one hand onto the counter and rested the other on her cocked hip.

  “You finally found me,” she said, tapping her orange painted nails on the wooden counter. “It’s about time. I was starting to think you kept getting lost, but when Everett said he told you about my gift baskets, I thought for sure you’d have come down sooner.” She giggled, and I couldn’t stop staring.

  My mind quickly tried to think of anything to say, but I was just too spellbound by the fact that she’d been waiting for me to come in to see her. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve had family staying with me and totally lost track of time.” Of course, my mind instantly remembered that it was just yesterday morning when Everett found out about the baskets. He said he wanted to go out with Cole a while ago, but for some reason, I was hit with a strange feeling that perhaps those two knew each other more than he let on. Or maybe they didn’t and I was just overreacting. Yeah, that was it.

  Cole pushed off the counter and reached around the register to pull a postcard from the stand. She flipped it over and began writing something on the back before handing it to me. “Here, now you have no excuse for getting lost when you come pick me up for dinner this week.”

  After taking the glossy postcard, I turned it over. On the front was the Trouvaille log
o, but on the back, she wrote:

  COLE PORTER 253 BAYSIDE DRIVE. CALL THE CELL NUMBER BELOW IF YOU GET LOST. DINNER WED. NIGHT @ 6. DON’T BE LATE.

  I glanced up and saw her standing with her arms crossed and a simple look that told me she wasn’t kidding around.

  “So, I guess we’re having dinner on Wednesday at six?” I asked before she pulled a band off her wrist and began running her fingers through her long hair until it was neatly up in a ponytail. I folded the postcard and stuffed it into the back pocket of my jeans.

  “You catch on pretty quick, Drew Daley…even for a Marine. Everett came by here after he left your place yesterday, wanting to know why he doesn’t get gifts on his deck. Long story short…he wanted us all to get together for dinner. I told him I had a better idea, so he’s making good with a friend of mine instead. It’s just you and me, unless for some reason you are scared I might poison you or something.” She winked and chuckled. “I’m assuming you didn’t just come in to see me at this hour of the morning, so what can I grab for you? It’s on me. I kinda know the owner.” She winked again as she backed up, pulling two clean coffee cups off the counter. If someone watched this exchange between us, they’d say we probably had known each other for months, even years. She chatted with me as though we were old buddies. It was strange. Even stranger, I felt the same thing the other night at the bonfire.

  “I’ll excuse the snarky Marine comment since you’ve been leaving me care packages and are offering me free coffee.” I propped my palms onto the counter, watching her. “French Roast, black, no sugar.” She turned, and I watched her bend down to grab a white serving tray from under the counter. I caught a small glimpse of the top of her black lace panties peeking out from under the waistband of her capris.

  “You enjoying the view from back there?” Cole asked as she poured the coffee into a tall black cup. My mouth dropped open as she laughed before turning to look at me over her shoulder. She obviously knew I was checking out her ass since I was standing there silently not denying it. Wondering how she knew, I rubbed the back of my neck. “Stainless steel equipment…they are just like mirrors. Don’t worry. You aren’t the first.” Cole grabbed a pot of hot water and a teabag from the shelf. She handed me the tray with both cups and a small kettle filled with steaming water. “Go sit at one of the tables. I’ll be over in a second. You want something to eat, too?” My mouth watered as I tried not to stare at the blueberry muffins literally inches from my reach.

  As I sat on one of the fabric seats, placing the tray onto the coffee table, I looked up to see her at the glass counter pulling a scone from a small tray inside. “I’ll have one of those muffins you made the other day.” She removed the glass top and pulled a muffin out. She smirked as if she knew eventually I’d ask for one. As she grabbed the food, my eyes drifted along the wall at the framed photographs. They were all from the local area. Some of landscapes and some of people. I saw one of the old man who had just passed me on the street. He was sitting on his boat on the water, staring at his dog while he held his fishing pole over the stern, waiting for something to bite.

  “You like that one?” Cole asked as she settled in the seat across from me. She placed the small plates of food in front of her and removed the chamomile teabag from the wrapper. She poured the steaming water over the tea and steeped the teabag around the water in her cup. As she placed the kettle back onto the tray, she leaned back and glanced at the picture on the wall. “That’s Marty and Cocoa. They live around the block. He’s one of the locals here, too. Comes in every morning for his coffee and paper before heading out on his boat. I actually took that photo last summer while out on my kayak.”

  “Oh, yeah. I actually just passed him on the street. Wait, did you say you took that photo?” I asked and stared at all the others along the wall. “Did you take all of these?” I waved my finger around the room.

  “That I did.” Cole smiled proudly at me. “You could say it’s a second hobby, but it’s an additional income for me if someone comes in and buys one. Plus, just knowing that someone out there has something of mine in their home—that is one of the most amazing aspects of it all.” Her eyes beamed as she talked openly about her travels and visions behind the lens of a camera. “One day, hopefully, a major gallery will find one of my photographs display worthy.” She slouched back into the cushions. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that would feel like. To have big city people critiquing something I saw as worth capturing.” She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “One day…and when that day comes, another dream of mine will have come true.”

  “Wow. You really are passionate about everything, aren’t you?” I didn’t try to make that sound as though it was a bad thing, but it had me thinking. What did I have to be passionate about? What if Cole were to ask me anything right now about what inspired me or what hobbies I did that allowed me to grow as an individual? Jesus…I literally had nothing. My life was so void of inspiration it was no wonder I hadn’t fallen into a dark place yet. I sensed she was about to ask that question, but our eyes met. I quickly brought my lips to my coffee cup and glanced out the windows toward the marina.

  “You said you saw Marty?” Cole questioned. I turned as she curiously watched me from her seat. “You know, other than Cocoa, he really only has the locals here. His wife passed away a few years ago, so he just enjoys the company. You should talk to him sometime. He was in the Army. Vietnam, I think. He used to talk for hours with…” Cole’s expression abruptly grew dejected, and the effervescent girl I was just talking to vanished. She appeared to silently shake off whatever was going on in her head, and I had to wonder if this had anything to do with her past. Everett said it was her story to tell. I knew she was not there yet. Who would be? We had only just met. I felt at ease around her, but I didn’t think I could honestly tell her my story yet, either. We were two lost souls with a past that continued to haunt us. Maybe that was why our connection seemed so strong.

  I shifted in my seat to face Cole again. As I reached forward to place my cup of coffee down, she did the same with her cup of tea. We both got comfortable in our seats, and I finally took in the entire atmosphere of the place. I was more or less sitting in a house instead of a coffee shop. Everything from the secondhand sofas to the framed pictures that had a story behind them was soothing, and it all seemed to have made her happy.

  An idea suddenly came to my mind, and I hoped I was right in my assumptions about Cole. We wouldn’t be laughing later if we continued dwelling on her past and my future. She picked up her tea again and took a sip. “I’ll certainly make it a top priority to introduce myself to Marty in the next couple of days, but you have to promise me one thing.”

  Cole lowered her cup from her lips and leaned forward to the table, picking off a piece of scone in the process and popping it into her mouth. “Keep talking…” She eyed me cautiously as she sank back into the sofa.

  “I’ll introduce myself to Marty, if instead of going out to dinner on Wednesday, you allow me to come over and cook for you.” I sensed her getting ready to most likely veto my idea, so I quickly continued my bargaining. “But, you have to show me how you make those blueberry muffins.” I pointed to the muffin on the table. The sugar crystals on top taunted me again.

  Cole tapped her finger on her chin as she contemplated the idea. Seconds ticked by, and just as I thought she was about to say no, she slid forward and extended her hand. “All right, Mr. Daley, you have a deal.” I leaned forward with a mischievous grin on my face. I took her soft hand in mine and was ready to agree to the deal until she stopped mid-shake. “But! On one condition.”

  “I’m open to negotiations. What’s the condition?” I was amazed how quickly the lawyer in me wanted to come out and play, but I immediately put all that away. That was for another time and place, if ever again.

  “I, Cole Porter, get to choose the movie of the night, and you cannot say no to it.”

  “What’s the movie?” I asked, thinking the worst pos
sible scenario. I mentally ran through a million different chick flick titles in my head.

  “Nope, not telling. You’ll have to wait and see.” Cole remained firm in her deal. I wrinkled my brow in suspicion. My lips pressed flat as I scrutinized her facial expression, but she gave nothing away.

  “Hmmm…” I took a deep breath. My decision was made long before this moment anyway, but I had to see if I could get her to reveal anything else. No such luck. Damn woman should have been a poker player.

  “Deal.” We began shaking hands again, and her smile returned with excitement in her eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, but it will totally be worth it to see how you make those muffins.”

  Cole sipped her tea again and said something that got muffled by the cup. I could have sworn I heard, “Sucker better like Pitch Perfect.”

  I tried to figure out why on earth Josh left me with Dean. Alone. I was no expert in babysitting kids. I fucked up at least two diaper changes and had crying toddler boogers wiped all over my T-shirt after Josh had been gone only an hour.

  Sam made sure I listened to her explicit orders not to put the fear of death into her son again. Evidently, Josh spilled the beans about my morning wake-up call yesterday. Her specific words involved something along the lines of “If my child comes back home with any long-term damage, I will send Mom and Dad up to the lake.” I laughed. She didn’t, and the last thing I wanted was to have my parents coming up to check on me.

  I did find it amazing that this child had managed to get into just about everything in the house. There were toys scattered in every corner, and I was pretty sure a G.I. Joe figure was floating in the toilet bowl. Pots and pans had been pulled from the lower cabinets and left strewn on the kitchen floor. I attempted to keep up with the chaos for about fifteen minutes, but after that I parked my ass on the sofa and threw on the TV. There was some movie on that seemed to keep his attention. Women in skimpy bikinis. Finally, the kid spoke my language. There was hope for me yet.