by Casey Dawes
Rick came into the living room. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen while I make lunch?”
She gestured to her makeshift bed. “You’ll have to wheel it in.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“The doctor said bed rest. That’s how we’ve been coping with it around here.”
“Can’t you at least get out of it before I wheel it in?”
Sarah sighed. “Can you give me a hand?” She reached up and Rick took her hand to help her.
They stood for a brief moment before Rick leaned in and kissed her.
Nothing.
His lips were moist and clammy. Whatever spark there had been was gone. Could they get it back?
She forced herself to respond and when they broke, Rick smiled. “That’s better.”
She was a fraud.
The chaise bounced against the wall as Rick pulled it down the hall. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s awkward.”
“That’s okay,” she said, glancing at the thin scratch in the wood. Hopefully, Hunter would be able to cover it up.
“Your throne, madam,” Rick said with a flourish of his arm.
She smiled, sat, picked up her crocheting, and began to rip it out.
Rick bustled around the kitchen, pots and pans clanging. “When did you say you were getting the kitchen redone? It could really use an upgraded dishwasher to save on washing pots and pans.”
“I’m bringing the kitchen up to code, but I don’t think it’s going to be the gleaming, state-of-the-art place you have in mind. Not in the budget.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course. What is your budget? Where are you getting the money?”
“My dad left me a trust fund and I’m using that. Don’t have the numbers right now.” And I’m not sure I’d tell you if I did. His question bothered her, like an itch between her shoulder blades that she couldn’t quite reach.
“Well, the kitchen’s the heart of the inn, you know, so this is the best place to spend your money.”
Sarah finished pulling apart the blanket and began to rewrap the yarn in a ball. “I’m not sure I agree. People are going to come here for an experience. Food’s part of it, but not everything. The gardens, the appointments in the rooms, the service — those are just as important.”
He put down the pot he was holding and faced her. “That’s not what we planned, Sarah. We were going to create a destination restaurant with a few rooms, not an inn with a few meals.”
“But this inn isn’t set up that way.”
“Well, then, we need to change it around.”
If she could have stalked out of the room, she would have. “This is my inn, Rick. I made my decision after you told me you wanted nothing more to do with me or our child.”
“I thought we were over that. I’m trying to make amends and you’re not giving me a break.”
“I am giving you a break by even seeing you.” She took a deep breath. She needed to bring this conversation down a notch before they had another big explosion. “But I had to make decisions at the time with what I knew — you, the chef, weren’t in the picture.”
By Rick’s clenched jaw, Sarah knew he was trying to get his emotions under control, too.
“I see. But what becomes of our plans if we get back together?” He pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table.
“What do you want for our future?”
“Same thing I always wanted — make a destination restaurant.”
“Then what?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. You think about these things too much. I thought that was a big enough goal.”
“What about a family?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Well, I seem to be getting that fairly soon now.” He put his palms on the table. “Look, Sarah, I’m not a plan ahead kind of guy. I know what I want to do next, but then?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I want to be open to opportunity. Sail the Pacific in a boat, open the first sustainable restaurant in Kenya, whatever.”
“Tough with a family.”
“Sarah, you and I never talked about kids before this. I’m an only child. So are you. Why do we need a lot of rug rats under foot? One baby will be fine. She — or he — will learn to adapt. Any more?” He shook his head. “That’s nowhere in the cards for me.”
Until that moment, Sarah hadn’t thought about the type of family she wanted. She thought of Alicia, also an only child, who wanted to be closer so their children could grow up together. Maybe she’d been so busy running away from Costanoa that she hadn’t stopped to figure out how to get what she did want.
“Oh,” was all she said.
“Sorry to disappoint you.” Rick stood and went back to cooking.
Sarah picked up the crochet pattern, hook, and yarn. Consulting the directions one more time, she began to create a chain for the first row. As she looped the yarn, she realized she was as rudderless as Rick was.
Chapter 16
“How are we getting this in here?” Paul asked Hunter a few days later.
Hunter examined the secondhand gas stove Mandy had managed to snag at the auction and visually measured at the back door to the kitchen. They’d already eliminated the front door as a possibility. Too much chance for damage.
“I think if we take off the doorjamb, we can just squeak it through.”
“If you say so, boss.” Paul grinned at Hunter.
Hunter smiled back, glad he and Paul were getting along so easily. Moving anything was a pain, and doing it with a partner who wasn’t able to cooperate made it a bigger problem.
Carefully, Hunter removed the door and the pieces surrounding it.
“Good thing Sarah can’t see this,” Mandy said from the kitchen.
“She sleeping?” Hunter asked.
“Yes. She seems to be doing a lot of pondering and writing in her journal and I think she’s worn herself out.”
“What’s she thinking about?” Paul asked as he maneuvered the final bit of the stove into the kitchen.
“What every woman thinks about — men.” Mandy cracked an egg into a bowl. “Omelets okay for lunch? The neighbor’s hens have been laying and they’re drowning in eggs.”
“Why do women think so much?” Paul asked. “Just go after what you want. That’s my motto.”
Hunter glanced up in time to see Mandy stare at Paul with an expression between a glare and curiosity.
So that’s what’s up.
He’d caught an undercurrent of feeling between the two, but hadn’t been able to figure out what it was until now. “Just go after what you want.” Hunter’s thoughts drifted to Sarah and their aborted date. His feelings hadn’t died, but he’d kept them hidden.
He’d wait until Sarah made her decision. It was the honorable thing to do.
What a crock. Defending the country was supposed to be honorable and he’d seen what that had led to.
Paul and Hunter maneuvered the new stove to the middle of the kitchen and put the door back together.
“Now what?” Mandy said.
“Now we pull out the old stove and figure out what I need to do to get the new one hooked up.”
“Not until after lunch.”
“Am I invited?” Elizabeth walked into the kitchen from the front hallway.
“Sure!” Mandy gave Sarah’s mother a brief hug. “Got lots of eggs.”
“Where’s Sarah?” Elizabeth asked.
“Sleeping,” Hunter said. “She said she wanted someone to rouse her before lunch.” He added. “If you want to get her up, that’d help us out. Paul and I have to pull the stove out.”
“Not until after lunch! Geez!” Mandy said. “Go clean up, get Sarah’s chair in here, and set the table.”
Hunter saluted. “Yes ma’am.” He and Paul went out the front hall, but not before he caught the once-over Elizabeth gave him. She still didn’t like that he was living in the inn; that was evident.
Maybe he should find somewhere else to live.
No. If Sa
rah chose Rick, he’d bow out, but not until then. He’d only met the man once, but Hunter didn’t trust him. In the military he’d learned to size up men quickly.
Besides, there’d been the kiss in the hospital.
I still have a chance.
Since he’d moved into the inn, his PTSD episodes were diminishing, another reason to stay a little longer. Whether it was being in his old home, living around Sarah or working in wood most of the day, he didn’t know. But he didn’t want to change anything until he became more secure.
Within minutes they were all back in the kitchen. Sarah walked into the room, her mother close behind her. “Stop shadowing me, Mom. I’m okay. I spend all day in bed. Trust me.” She gestured to the people around the table. “Do you think they’d let me get up even if I wanted to?”
Elizabeth chuckled and glanced around the room. Once again, her gaze fell on Hunter.
He was going to need to do something about her suspicions.
After lunch, while the others were cleaning up under Sarah’s supervision, he approached Elizabeth. “Can you come outside with me for a moment? There’s something I want your advice on.”
She studied him for a moment. “Okay.”
He led her out the front and into the garden that was coming into shape under Gertrude’s talented hands.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Elizabeth asked.
“Why don’t you have a seat.” He gestured to one of the unearthed cement benches.
Elizabeth glanced at it and sat. He plunked himself down next to her.
“I don’t think you like me much and I’d like to know why,” he said.
“Well, you don’t mince words, that’s for sure,” Elizabeth said and smoothed her slacks.
“So?” he said.
“I don’t have a problem with you.” She regarded him. “I don’t think it’s appropriate that you’re living here with Rick still in the picture.”
Hunter was quiet for a minute, the whisper of brush in the breeze and chirp of starlings the only interruption. How could he explain?
“I know you think that parents should stay together no matter what for the sake of the children,” he began.
She nodded. “Unless one of them is abusive or addicted, or something like that. If they elected to have children, they should stand by them.”
Hunter twisted his fingers together. He wanted Elizabeth’s respect, but he’d have to tread carefully. “My parents stayed together. My dad forced my mother into it, threatening to take me away and leave her penniless, but they stayed together.”
“Sounds like abuse, to me,” she said. “We sometimes forget that verbal abuse is just as damaging as physical abuse. It must have been hard for you.”
No wonder Sarah respected her mother. “Yes.” He gestured toward the house. “This house used to be my folks’. When I got out of rehab, I learned it was for sale, and I came down to buy it using a VA loan. I wanted a place to feel safe.”
“But Sarah beat you to it.”
“Yeah.” He dropped his gaze to his hands, uncertain where to go with the conversation.
Elizabeth’s foot began to tap. “Your last name is Evans, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “I seem to remember something about your dad … and your mom. Oh — ” She broke off. “I’m not sure I should tell you this. They’re only rumors.”
“I’m sure I already know. My dad was cheating on my mother like crazy and she had an affair, or started to, when he found out.”
Elizabeth said, “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but we’re getting distracted. Rick hasn’t abused Sarah in any way, so don’t you think you should give them a chance?”
“I am.” He clenched his fist. “I leave when he’s due to show up and keep my relationship with Sarah above board.”
“But you’re living here.” Elizabeth’s voice had an edge to it.
“So is Mandy. Sarah and I are well-supervised.”
“Do you love her?” Elizabeth asked.
He was startled by the question. “Love never crossed my mind. It’s too early to know that.”
Liar.
Elizabeth smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. When the time is right, it seems to happen quickly.”
He shook his head and stood. “Not for me. I’m not here to seduce your daughter, or take her away from Rick. He’s got his shot with her. It’s up to him not to blow it.”
Elizabeth stood and peered into his eyes. He held her gaze. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll trust you. For now. Now, shall we join the others?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to stay out here for a bit. Got some thinking to do.”
She smiled. “You do that.” She went back into the inn.
The gardener’s truck pulled up fifteen minutes later. Gertrude got out, all leanness and capability. If she saw Hunter, she didn’t let on. Instead, she got her gear, loaded up the wheelbarrow, and headed in his direction.
“No need to move,” she said. “I’m working over there.” She gestured toward the far corner.
He laughed, but stood anyway. “If you come across an old tree house, it’s mine.”
“You used to live here?”
He nodded. “A long time ago.”
She stared at him unblinking. “Ah,” she said and pulled loppers from the wheelbarrow. Without looking at him she asked, “Was it bad? When you got your leg destroyed?”
“Bad enough.” He walked closer to her. “Sarah said your name is Gertrude, right?”
Gertrude nodded. “She’s a sweet girl, Sarah. The boyfriend is another matter. Self-centered.”
Exactly Hunter’s assessment.
“How’s your mother?” Gertrude asked.
“Do you know her?”
“Mmm.” Swaths of vines began to hit the ground.
“She’s not doing so well. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.” Another bunch of branches came crashing down. “Why aren’t you going after what you want? Or are you too much like your mother?”
“What do you mean? How do you know my mother?”
Gertrude dragged the vines down the path to the parking lot, dumped them, and turned to face him. “She was in love with my brother.”
Hunter didn’t say anything as she walked past him. Instead, he lowered himself onto the bench. “Is he still around?”
Gertrude shook her head and tackled another patch of vines. “Killed in a car wreck on Highway 17 about six years ago. He never got over your mother. Couldn’t understand why she gave up.”
“She was married.”
“To a man who cheated on her every chance he got.” Gertrude glared at him, her hands on her hips. “That’s not a marriage. That’s torture.”
Time to turn the tables. “What made you become a gardener?”
“I needed something living in my hands. A year after my brother was killed, my oldest daughter died of cancer, and my husband left me for a younger woman. Sounds like a bad novel. It‘s even worse living it.” She tossed a stick toward the pile. “I used to be a research chemist up at the university.”
She stopped what she was doing and walked up to him. Sticking her finger under his nose she said, “Get over what’s bugging you and grab life with both hands. Whatever happened in the war is done. You can’t change it. You can only change the future.” She walked back to the brush. “Now get out of here. I’ve got work to do.”
• • •
Over the next two weeks Hunter spent most of his days on Sarah’s kitchen and his evenings working on the hallstand at Joe’s. His friend had promised him a new job — something more to his liking — in early April. Construction season was opening up and his “winter of discontent” was coming to an end.
He concentrated on the wood under his hands, going over the piece one last time to ensure there were no nicks or scratches. He’d found an old mirror at a garage sale that he’d dismantled and used in the back of the stand. With its tarnished elegance and the distressed stain techniques he use
d, the entryway piece was looking like the antique it was supposed to emulate.
As he worked, the conversations he’d had with Elizabeth and Gertrude played through his mind. One wanted him to stay away from Sarah, the other wanted him to go after what he wanted.
Gertrude was right, life was too short. He’d seen it firsthand. But Elizabeth had a point, too. Sarah needed to come to her own conclusion. If he destroyed her chances with Rick and then things didn’t work out with him and Sarah, he’d have a hard time forgiving himself.
He shook his head. Better let sleeping dogs lie. “Joe?” He stuck his head in his friend’s surfboard workshop.
“Yeah.” Joe’s smile was ready.
“Can you give me a hand? I want to load the piece in the back of the Jeep and take it over.”
“Who’s going to help you at that end?”
Hunter grinned. “You in the mood for a little drive?”
“That’s what I figured. Let me see the finished product.”
Joe walked over to the hallstand, stroked the sides, and inspected the detail of the curved supports. “Nice work. You got any pictures?”
Hunter shook his head. “Hadn’t thought about that.”
“That’s why you have me, bro. It’s all about pictures these days — pictures and videos. The written word is an endangered species. You’ll have to hire a professional someday, but my digital camera should do for now.”
Quickly, Joe snapped a few shots and then put his camera back in his studio. “Let’s get to work.”
It took about fifteen minutes to get the piece blanket wrapped and in the Jeep.
“So I finally get to meet the mystery woman,” Joe said. “Leave it to you to fall for a pregnant woman.”
“I haven’t fallen for her.”
“Right. Any day now you should take me up on that bridge I’ve been trying to sell you.”
“Not happening, Joe. Peddle that thing, and the load you’re selling, somewhere else.”
“Ooh, testy.” Joe laughed. “Okay. I’ll wait and see.”
“I’m not ready for anyone new. Losing Lauren was hard enough.” Hunter’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knowing Joe would easily see through the excuse.
