Finding Pride

by Jill Sanders

  She walked towards the back and opened a heavy wood door into a small room that she imagined would easily fit a double bed and two nightstands. Turning to the left, she walked into a small bathroom with no toilet or tub. There were places for them, but they hadn’t been installed yet.

  Yes, there was a lot of potential here. It took her almost an hour to go through all five cabins, each one larger than the one before, until finally she reached the fifth and final cabin. It was not only the largest, but the least completed. Its windows and porch overlooked the beach. A short walk down a hill and across a small field of sand covered in tall green grass and you would be down at the water’s edge.

  The last two cabins were unpainted, and the floors, trim, and doors still needed to be sanded and stained. None of the cabins had appliances. Where the first three cabins were small with only a front room, a small bedroom, and a bath, the last two had two bedrooms, good-sized bathrooms, and small kitchenette areas. The countertops and cabinets needed replacing or sanding.

  Yes, she could definitely see why her brother wanted to start a business renting these out. The buildings were made to have families, friends, and lovers enjoy them. Standing on the front porch of the last cabin, she imagined honeymooners having a romantic dinner out here, or a family eating a picnic after a day at the beach. She imagined them playing volleyball in the field on the way to the beach. She could envision a few picnic tables along the path, all painted to match the brightly colored doors her brother had taken the time to paint.

  Her brother’s dream was slowly becoming her own.

  ********

  A few days later, for the first time since arriving, she stood in the kitchen making her own dinner. Thank goodness there had been several cans of tomato soup in the pantry and a bag of frozen vegetables in the freezer. She even found an unopened box of Wheat Thins. Not only was this one of the more elaborate meals she knew how to make, but one of her favorites. She had enjoyed having people stop by and visit the last few days, and she knew they meant well, but she had missed the quiet of being alone.

  After setting a bowl and a plate of crackers down on the white tablecloth, she enjoyed her quick meal, thinking how peaceful it was. Could she really get used to strangers coming and going around here? She had a skittish personality, but she hadn’t always been like this. For most of her life with Matt, she hadn’t been scared. She knew people were generally good and it appeared that the people of Pride took care of each other.

  As she finished rinsing her dishes, she saw Lacey’s sedan drive up and park in front of the garage. Going to the back door and opening it, she waited for her friend. When Todd stepped out of the car instead, she tensed slightly. Forcing herself to put a smile on her face and relax, she welcomed him.

  “Hi, Megan. I hope you don’t mind, but I needed to pick up some paperwork from your brother’s office. While I was here, I figured I would take a look at the downstairs bathroom sink. Lacey said she noticed that the handle was loose the last time she was here.” He grabbed a toolbox from the back of the car.

  “Oh, I don’t want to bother you. I’m sure I can figure it out myself.”

  “It’s no trouble. I helped Matt install that sink less than a year ago. If you’re busy, I can come back later,” he said, looking up the three stairs at her.

  She realized she was blocking the back door and quickly moved aside. “No, I’m sorry, please.” She motioned him in.

  “It will only take me a few minutes and then I’ll be out of your way.” He headed down the hall towards the bathroom.

  She walked into the living room and placed another log on the fire. She paced in front of the fireplace, feeling tense and uneasy as she waited for him to finish up.

  After about ten minutes, she sat down and picked up the book she had started earlier that day. She knew she shouldn’t be reading a Stephen King book, especially with her nerves, but she just couldn’t put it down. She’d always loved a good scary story. Probably her brother’s doing.

  Just then the floor board behind her creaked and she jumped once again.

  “I’m sorry,” Todd said with a reassuring smile. “I was going to tell you that I was done. I’ll be heading out now.”

  She couldn’t, just couldn’t, look him in the eyes again, so she bent over to pick up the book that she’d dropped. Instantly, she winced from the pain. The bruised muscles that ran from her shoulders to her lower back were flaring up again. Gasping, she reached out for something, anything, for support.

  Todd was next to her in a second. “Easy,” he murmured. “Did you hurt your neck? Here now, let me see,” he said, walking her backwards towards the couch. At the same time, he took a light hold on the neckline of her baggy shirt to reveal her slender neck.

  “It’s nothing, just…” Megan tensed again and started to pull away, but his hands remained lightly on her shoulders.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. Let me help you. Your shoulders must be sore, carrying the weight of that cast around all day,” he said in a soft voice, holding her steady. “I want to help you. Trust me.” She turned slightly and looked up into his eyes. Seeing his concern, all she could do was nod in reply.

  He lightly tugged her shirt to the side, exposing her neck and half of her right shoulder. She heard his gasp, and looked back over her shoulder at him. When she saw the raw emotions flash across his face, she tensed.

  Pulling away, she backed up until the backs of her legs hit the couch. “I…I’m sorry.” She moved farther away. He walked over to her, and she became trapped in his eyes. She felt like her feet were glued to the floor. She could no longer see hurt and anger in his eyes, only concern.

  ********

  Todd closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths to calm himself. When he had looked down at Megan’s skin, he’d been shocked. He had expected her skin to be a soft creamy color just like her lovely neck, but it was covered in deep purple and green bruises that crossed her shoulders. Reaching out with just his fingers, he gently played them over her neck and shoulder, like whispers on her skin.

  Getting in control again, he masked the emotions that had played across his face. He wanted to rip apart the person who had hurt her. Knowing he had to keep his emotions under control for her sake, he kept them tightly tucked inside. She’d turned around and not taken her eyes from his face. He could tell she was waiting for his next move.

  He slowly pulled the large shirt from her shoulders. Pulling it over the cast gently, he bunched it up and tossed it on the couch. When she started to object, he cooed to her, “Let me look. I won’t hurt you, just let me see.”

  Pushing the light strands of her white tank top aside, he exposed more bruised skin. He lightly took her shoulders in his hands and turned her around so he could view her back.

  She leaned her head farther down, exposing all of her neck to him. The bruises started at each shoulder and went below her shirt. He could see deep purple and blackish-green skin through the light material. Large, ugly, bruises ran down the back of both of her arms.

  After about a minute of silence, he stalked from the room, leaving her alone facing the fire.

  When he came back in, her eyes were fixed on the floor and he could see tears streaming down her soft cheeks. Then he looked down at what her eyes were fixed on.

  “No wonder you’re on edge, reading this,” he said, picking up the discarded book.

  He stood in front of her with a book in one hand and bottle of dark liquid in the other. She kept her head down, looking at his hands.

  Dropping the book on the couch, he put his fingers under her chin and pulled her face slowly up until their eyes met. “Here now, don’t,” he said wiping her tears away gently.

  “I’m sorry…” she started to apologize.

  “Don’t, please. Will you let me help you? This will help with the sore muscles and bruises.” He held out the bottle, letting her see the label. “Trust me, I’ve had plenty of both.” He smiled a little.

&n
bsp; Megan nodded.

  “Come on then, sit down here.” He pointed to the couch.

  She followed him and sat at the edge of the couch with her back to him.

  “Lay down, Megan,” he said softly.

  He lifted her shirt to the point that half of her back was exposed. She heard him take a deep breath and she tensed again.

  “No, don’t. It’s alright,” he said.

  She could smell the ointment as he warmed it in his hands. He started working on her shoulders first, the muscles screaming from the contact.

  “Take deep breaths,” he said in a soothing voice, relaxing her tension. “When I was about thirteen, I decided I was man enough to help break one of my dad’s horses, Thunder, an Appalachian. It had been terribly mistreated before we got ahold of him. I snuck into his pen one day, thinking I would just jump right up there, and we would be best of friends.” He chuckled. “Well, everything was going fine until my dad came running out of the house screaming. The horse took one look at him and bucked me right off. I flew over the fence and landed backside down in the blackberry bushes. I can still remember my dad’s face as I went flying.” He chuckled a little, but continued to rub slowly. “He tore those bushes out the next day and sold the horse to a farmer.” He laughed to himself again. Even after all that, his back hadn’t looked as bad as hers did now. His smile faded.

  Working his way up and down her battered back, he wondered what had happened to her. Had Matt know anything about this? No! He was sure his friend hadn’t known what his sister was going through. Matt was a lot like him; he would have wanted blood it he had known this was happening to someone he cared about—or, for that matter, someone he hardly knew.

  Todd felt some responsibility where Megan was concerned because Matt wasn’t here to do it. After all, Matt had been his best friend for the last four years. Matt had helped him deal with the loss after his father’s death and the responsibilities that came along with having a younger brother and sister who relied on him. Iian had just turned eighteen and Lacey had been twenty, but there had been plenty of responsibilities he’d had to deal with when he’d taken over the family’s businesses.

  “Tell me about Boston,” he said, trying to get her to relax under his hands. She was small, and the muscles in her back were knotted and twisted. The bruises ran further down her back to below her pants, but he stayed well above that line.

  He could tell that she was starting to feel more comfortable; the ointment was warm, and his hands were warmer. He could feel her muscles relaxing one at a time. She started telling him about Boston, where she and Matt had grown up.

  Matt had been born here in Oregon, but she’d been born in Maine almost fifteen years later. When she was two, their parents had moved to Boston so their dad could start his own law firm there. He’d always been very strict with his children.

  His hands were slowly soothing away all the aches, and he could feel her relaxing into them. Electrified was the best word to describe how he felt around her. He had felt connected to her from the first glance and had chalked it up as a good, wholesome dose of lust. Nothing wrong with that, right?

  She was beginning to mumble as she told him about her old job in Boston. Her words were starting to slur together, then she said, “Tell me about yourself, your family. Lacey said you own a restaurant.”

  “Yes. The Golden Oar has been in our family for several generations. Lacey and Iian really run the place now. I run our other business, which my dad started, Jordan Shipping. Actually, your brother was my business partner,” he said, stroking her neck. “We have a small fleet of ships that go to every continent.” As he continued to tell her the details of his company, he heard her breathing slowing down and becoming shallow. Then, she was asleep.

  Shifting lightly, he grabbed the quilt off the back of the couch and covered her from neck to toe. He banked the fire, made sure the front door was locked, and walked out the back one, locking the dead bolt with the set of keys Matt had given him.

  On his drive home, he couldn’t get the bruises and marks on her back out of his mind.

  “What am I supposed to do with your sister?” he asked as he drove home. He didn’t expect Matt to answer, but he felt better for trying.

  Tomorrow he would have to call an old buddy, a private investigator who lived in New York. Todd needed some answers and he knew Mark was the one who could get them for him.

  Chapter Four

  Megan settled into a schedule over the next few days, usually waking up early to work around the house or out in the yard whenever the weather permitted. She was trying to clear a patch of yard so she could plant a small garden. At least once a day, there was a Jordan over at the house. Yesterday, Lacey had brought another batch of her cinnamon rolls. She had stayed around to chat for over an hour. Megan was becoming accustomed to the company dropping by and felt, really felt, like part of something bigger.

  She found the little grocery store in town quite enchanting. The plump owner, Patty O’Neil, whom she’d met at Matt’s funeral, always talked her ear off about the town and everyone in it.

  Usually she didn’t mind, but today she felt trapped there, listening to the woman as she stood at the register. All of her items were bagged and paid for, but she could think of no polite way to get away trapped there listening to the woman with no real polite way out. She could imagine her double chocolate macadamia nut ice cream melting by the second. She even thought about dropping the groceries and running. There really wasn’t a lot of food in the two small bags, since she and cooking didn’t really mix.

  But she really did want some of that ice cream. The way it was going, she was going to have to drink it instead of savoring it slowly like she’d dreamed.

  “So that’s how Robert became sheriff. Quite the young gun he was back then until he settled down and married Amelia…” Megan had zoned out during most of the conversation. “That’s Betty, poor dear. Lost her Henry last year,” she said, nodding out the window to a small older woman walking towards the store. Megan recognized her as one of the ladies who’d stopped by the day after her brother’s funeral.

  “Hi, Betty,” Patty said as the woman walked in the double doors. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Oh, my arthritis is acting up again, but I’m doing fine. Hello, Megan. We really weren’t introduced the other day. I’m Betty Thomas. I help out at all the church events. Kind of the coordinator, if you will.”

  “Betty bakes some of the finest cakes in all of Oregon,” Patty said. “She brought her angel food cake with the chocolate frosting to your place last week.”

  “Yes, it was very good. I think I had two pieces,” Megan said.

  “We’re so glad you’ll be staying on. You know, we have weekly prayer meetings at my house. I do hope to see you there,” Betty said.

  “Well, the thing is, I’m not Catholic,” Megan said with a weak smile. She didn’t want to get into the fact that she hadn’t completely made up her mind to stay, yet.

  “Oh,” they both said in unison, sounding rather put out. “Well,” Betty said recovering, “that’s alright. You could come anyway. It must be hard moving in with that hurt arm. How did you say you broke it?” There was an awkward silence that filled the room, and both women leaned ever so slightly forward.

  Megan looked around the store and saw four other women standing behind her in line, their buggies stacked with forgotten melting items, and no one seemed to mind. They were all ears; she could imagine them holding their breath, waiting for the scoop.

  “We had a bad ice storm in Boston a few weeks back, and I fell outside my apartment. The Jordan’s helped me move in. They’ve been very helpful the last few days.” The statement flew from her lips faster than she had wanted. She was sure that the false news of how she broke her arm would spread around town before nightfall.

  “Well, now, I remember Matt saying that you were married. Is your husband still in Boston?” She was getting the feeling that Betty wa
s not only the best baker in town, but the best gossip as well.

  She looked from woman to woman, not wanting to take this conversation any further, feeling trapped and starting to feel light-headed from hunger. She’d gone to the store in the first place because her house was empty of food.

  When she felt like she would pass out from hunger, she looked outside the windows and saw Lacey walking towards the building, her small form traveling remarkably fast.

  “There you are!” Lacey said after swinging the door wide. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” She looked at Megan and Patty and the other women in line, all of whom quickly looked away and went about their business. “We better get going or you’re going to be late.”

  She was saved! She could have kissed Lacey for rescuing her. Lacey grabbed one of her bags and walked out the door without even so much as a “Hello” to the other women.

  “I really need to learn how to do that,” she said, walking behind her and trying to catch up.

  Lacey chuckled and put the bag into Megan’s trunk. Then she reached over and took the other bag and set it down. “It’s easy. You’ll get used to everyone around here. You should just ignore the gossiping bunch. If you don’t know by now, Betty Thomas is one of the biggest in town.”

  “After what just happened in there, I can believe it.” They were both laughing as they turned and saw the women looking back at them through the glass.

  “You know, maybe you can clear something up for me?” Megan asked.

  “Shoot,” Lacey said.

  “Miss Gossip in there mentioned the bed-and-breakfast, and it got me thinking about Matt. I know my brother, and I just can’t see it. Do you know why he wanted to do something like that?”

  Lacey had a questioning look on her face.

  “Megan, your brother was not only really excited about opening the bed-and-breakfast, he had serious plans to convince you to move out here and help him. Maybe this is something we can talk about when your ice cream isn’t running out of your bag,” she said, holding up a small paper bag with chocolate running out the sides. “How about I swing by after my dinner shift. I’ll bring dessert, since it appears your ice cream is now soup.”