by Irene Hannon
Scott dropped a hand on Jarrod’s shoulder and started for the exit. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Don’t hurry on our account.” Barbara waited until the door closed behind the duo and smiled at Cindy. “Boys and their toys. Scott’s always liked working around heavy equipment, and if Jarrod’s a typical boy, my guess is he’s going to eat this up.”
“He is a typical boy, and there’s no guessing involved. He’ll love it.” Cindy shifted sideways and rested her arm along the back of the pew. “At least it will be more pleasant than their first encounters here.”
“Encounters, plural?”
Apparently her assumption that Scott had told his grandmother all about both trespassing incidents had been wrong.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” Cindy stalled, trying to figure out how to downplay the unpleasantness without telling a fib. “Jarrod came out here twice. Scott gave him a talking-to the second time and warned him to stay away.”
“Hmm.” Barbara gave her a keen look. “I have a feeling warned is too mild a term. He probably blew up.”
The corner of Cindy’s mouth quirked and she lifted one shoulder. “He does have red hair.”
“True. But it’s more than that.” Barbara examined the front window, where the afternoon sun had gilded the imbedded art-glass cross, giving it a shimmering incandescence. “Did he tell you about his hand?”
“He just said he injured it on a job site.”
Only the muted crash of the surf on the rocks below and a distant yip from Toby intruded on the silence that followed.
Finally, Barbara sighed. “Well, I’m not one to tell tales out of school, but I can’t see the harm in sharing a bit more of the story with you.”
Cindy knew she ought to demure. If Scott wanted her to know his history, he’d tell her. But she was curious. So tamping down the guilty niggle in her conscience, she remained silent.
“Four years ago, Scott’s company had a problem with vandalism on a construction site. The signs pointed to some sort of gang initiation. They beefed up security at night, but the kids kept getting in—and getting bolder. They started showing up during working hours, too.
“One day Scott spotted a young teenager fiddling with some equipment near a storage shed. He took off after him, and the boy ran into the middle of the construction site. He tripped and fell into a ditch in front of an excavator. The operator didn’t see what had happened, and the kid was crushed. So was Scott’s hand when he reached in to try and yank him out.”
Cindy closed her eyes. After a traumatic experience like that, it was no wonder he’d gone ballistic when he’d found Jarrod at The Point. “Did the boy survive?”
“No. Scott was consumed with guilt for months after the incident. He kept berating himself for not being quicker, for not just yelling instead of giving chase. And he was angry with the boy’s parents, too. They were both successful businesspeople, absorbed in their careers, who ignored their children. That really struck a chord with him.”
“Why?” The question was out before Cindy could stop it.
Barbara gripped the edge of the seat as a spasm of pain tightened her features. “I’m sorry to say my son and his wife were the same way. They never had time for Scott or Devon, which is why we brought them out here as often as we could. Scott was left on his own during his early years, and kids look for acceptance where they can find it. Unfortunately, some turn to gangs. Scott might have ended up getting in with the wrong crowd, just as the boy he chased did. He’s never had much sympathy for parents who neglect their childrearing duties, and his tolerance level dropped to zero after that tragic episode.”
Another mystery solved. She’d noticed the quick glance he’d flicked at her briefcase that first night in the Orchid, when he’d confronted her about Jarrod. Had watched his lips flatten in disapproval. He must have assumed she, too, was a mother who neglected her children.
Considering the rough start they’d had, it was amazing their relationship had progressed as far as it had.
As the silence lengthened, Barbara leaned closer and touched her hand, her expression concerned. “Was that more than you wanted to know, my dear?”
“No. To be honest, it explains a few things.”
“I hoped it might. Scott’s never been one to foist his problems on anyone else, but when you care about someone—” she arched an eyebrow and paused for dramatic emphasis “—it’s important to share the good and the bad with them.”
Barbara had slipped back into matchmaking mode.
But she was also getting tired. Cindy had been so absorbed in the woman’s tale she hadn’t noticed the weary droop of her mouth or her fading color.
It was time to bring this outing to an end.
“You know, I think I’ll round up those two.” Cindy rose and stepped into the aisle. “They could get carried away with all that equipment and leave us sitting here for hours, and I’m ready to call it a day.”
“Excellent idea, my dear. I’ll have a chat with the Lord while you’re gone.” The woman settled back in her seat and let her eyelids drift closed.
Cindy walked down the short aisle and exited into the sunlight. She scanned the construction site, spotting Scott and Jarrod in the distance, intent on examining some mammoth piece of equipment she couldn’t identify.
Rather than call out to them, she crossed the expanse, sidestepping ruts and beams and ruing the film of dust collecting on her new leather flats. She’d have a polishing job tonight.
As she drew close, she tuned into the conversation.
“...was really worried about me after Dad died. Sometimes she’d hold me so tight I thought I was going to suffocate, but it made me feel better, too, you know?”
“Yeah. Hugging is one of the best ways to let someone know you care about them. And your mom loves you a whole lot.”
“I know. I used to be afraid she might die, too.” Her son lowered his head and kicked at a clump of dirt. “When I had nightmares, she’d come in and lay with me until I went back to sleep. It was kind of crowded, but she said she didn’t mind because she was lonesome in her bed anyway. I don’t think that was true, though. Dad was gone so much, she was probably used to sleeping by herself. But maybe she needed a hug as much as I did, you know? And the nightmares finally went away.”
Now she didn’t feel as bad about letting Barbara fill her in on Scott’s background. He might not be pumping her son, but he was listening to every word Jarrod said. Just as she’d listened to Barbara.
Eavesdropping, however, was a no-no.
She drew back a few feet, out of range of their quiet conversation, and called out, “Hey! Are you guys about done?”
They turned in unison, and Toby did a happy prance, perhaps hoping the arrival of a new person would signal action rather than boring discussion.
“I think your grandmother is getting tired.” She drew closer, stopping a few feet away from Scott. “We might want to head back.”
“We were wrapping up anyway.” Scott sent her a speculative look, as if he was wondering whether she’d heard any of his conversation with Jarrod. She did her best to maintain an impassive expression.
Jarrod tugged on her hand. “Mom! He let me climb into the driver’s seat on that!” He gestured to a nearby steam shovel.
“With close supervision,” Scott added.
“I’m certain of that.” Cindy rested her hand on Jarrod’s shoulder. “Did you say thank you?”
“Yeah. Twice. And he showed me his office, over there.” He pointed at a construction trailer.
Scott grinned. “My home away from home.” He gestured toward the chapel. “Shall we?”
They started across the work zone, dodging construction paraphernalia and ruts, Jarrod and Toby charging ahead.
“Be careful!” Cindy cupped her hands around her mouth.
“He’s fine. There’s nothing dangerous between here and there. But Gram was right. This place wasn’t designed for those shoes. Watch your step.
” Scott fell in beside her and took her arm.
It was a polite gesture. Nothing more. She knew that.
Yet his touch made her think of his comment about hugs.
And yearn for one of his.
She faltered, and for one brief moment she was tempted to turn toward him and step into his arms.
As if sensing her thoughts, he tightened his grip on her arm. She looked over at him, and the conflict in her heart was reflected in his eyes.
Her breath lodged in her throat.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
They slowed to a stop. The world around her ceased to exist, except for the tang of salt on her lips and the muffled crash of the surf and the warmth of the sun on her face.
“Hey! Are you guys coming?”
At Jarrod’s question, reality crashed back over her.
Scott dropped his hand. Stepped back. Cleared his throat. “We’re right behind you.”
Taking his cue, Cindy moved forward again. Telling herself to breathe.
But just when her lungs were about to kick back in, Scott took her hand and twined his fingers with hers.
This wasn’t a polite gesture, meant to protect her from stumbling.
This was a deliberate message. A testing of the waters.
And she had a choice to make.
She could pull back. Play it safe. Follow the prudent path.
Or she could follow the example of Elijah and Emma and embrace the possibility of love—despite the risk.
The steeple of the chapel soared toward the sky ahead of them, and she lifted her gaze to the heavens, asking for guidance.
No message appeared in the clouds. No voice whispered in her ear. But as she followed the course of a gull drifting on the air currents, held aloft by an unseen but powerful force, she decided to follow her heart and place her trust in another powerful, unseen force.
With a gentle squeeze of her fingers, she signaled her acceptance of his touch.
And when she looked over at Scott, the warmth in his eyes seeped into the deepest corners of her soul, chasing the numbing chill away.
He didn’t release her hand until they reached the chapel. And ten minutes later, when he delivered her and Jarrod back to the gallery, he took it again as he walked them back to their car.
“So who’s going to watch Toby while you’re in San Francisco this week?”
Once again, Jarrod’s question interrupted them...but this time Scott didn’t release her fingers.
“I’ll ask my neighbor.”
“We could watch him. Couldn’t we, Mom?” Jarrod tossed the question over the hood as he circled around toward the passenger-side door. “I’m off school Friday, and I could play with him all day. We could keep each other company while you’re at work.”
Scott glanced at her. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“You know, it might work out fine. Having Toby around would keep Jarrod occupied—and hopefully out of trouble. When are you leaving?”
“Early Friday. I could drop him off on my way to work Thursday morning before Jarrod leaves for school. He’d be okay in the basement for the day.”
“Let’s plan on it then.”
“Great. I get back around noon on Saturday. What time’s the wedding?”
“Eleven. There’s a luncheon afterward. We should be home by three.”
“I’ll drive up later in the afternoon to pick Toby up. Why don’t I treat you to dinner, too?”
He was asking her out on a date. A real date.
Was she ready for that?
When she hesitated, he spoke again. “Jarrod’s included, of course.”
Better. Having her son along would allow her to dip her toe into this dating thing—and let her back out more easily if she got cold feet.
“Okay.”
“I’ll call you this week.”
He waited while she climbed into the car, then closed the door behind her. Once she was settled, he leaned down to speak across her to Jarrod.
“See you later in the week, buddy.”
“Thanks again for letting me climb on that stuff today.”
“No problem.” He transferred his attention to her, his eyes mere inches away, his breath warm on her cheek. “I’ll look forward to Saturday.”
He stood before she could answer, but as she watched him walk away, her response echoed silently in her heart.
Me, too.
* * *
“I think Mr. Walsh likes you.”
Cindy choked on the bite of turkey sandwich she’d just swallowed. Groping for her glass of water, she took a long swallow.
“It’s okay with me if you guys get married.”
The water went down the wrong way and she began coughing.
“Mom? Are you okay?” Jarrod half rose, his face registering alarm.
She waved him back into his seat and grabbed her napkin as she continued to cough.
He sank back, watching her worriedly until she stopped hacking.
Once she could breathe again, she took a tentative sip of water. One crisis averted.
Now on to the next one.
Resting her elbows on the arms of her chair, she clasped her hands at her waist and tried for a calm, conversational tone. “Where did that come from?”
He shrugged. “I saw him holding your hand this afternoon.” He lifted the top piece of bread on the second half of his sandwich and lathered on more mustard. “Nate held Lindsey’s hand in the redwoods the day they took me hiking, and they’re getting married.”
“Honey, just because people hold hands doesn’t mean there’s going to be a wedding. Mr. Walsh and I only met a month ago. We didn’t even like each other very much at the beginning. You didn’t like him either.”
“Yeah, but we were wrong. He’s nice. And if he was around all the time, we wouldn’t be so lonesome.” He took a big bite of his sandwich.
She wished it was as simple as that. How could she explain things to him without stirring up his grief all over again? She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, then gentled her voice. “Your dad hasn’t been gone all that long, Jarrod.”
He frowned and stopped chewing. “I know. And I miss him everyday. I’ll always miss him. But he’s never coming back. I don’t think he’d want us to be lonely, do you?”
No, she didn’t. Steve had never been selfish. He’d have wanted them both to be happy.
Her son, it appeared, had figured that out a lot faster than she had.
“You’re right, honey. Dad wouldn’t want us to be lonely. But it takes a long time to get to know someone well enough to marry them.”
“How long?”
Not long at all if you were Elijah and Emma. After reading the journals and letters, she’d delved into their backgrounds. They’d married two months after being introduced and gone on to raise three children during their long and happy marriage.
But that kind of rash behavior could also lead to heartache.
“I’m not sure, honey. People just know when the time is right.”
“Yeah?” He picked off a piece of crust and popped it in his mouth. “So when do you think you might know?”
Cindy pushed her half-eaten sandwich aside and stood. “I have no idea. Besides, Scott has a say in this, too. He might never like me enough to get married.”
“I think he already does.”
Her pulse hiccupped. “Why do you think that?”
Wrinkling his nose, Jarrod took another bite. “He looks at you funny. Kind of mushy. Like the people in movies do during the romantic parts, before they kiss each other. Has he ever kissed you?”
Oh, brother.
Cindy grabbed her plate and walked away from the table. “We’re just getting to be friends. It’s too soon for kissing.”
He inspected her plate as she deposited it on the counter. “Aren’t you going to finish your dinner?”
“I’m still full from that pot roast.”
The room grew silent. If she was lucky, he’d abandon the
topic.
But no. Her son had more to say.
“You know, it’s kind of scary to like somebody too much.” His voice was quiet. Thoughtful. “’Cause if they go away, it’s really hard. But I think it would be worse if you never knew them at all.”
She didn’t turn. Nor did she answer. She couldn’t. Her throat was too tight.
Jarrod, with the infinite wisdom of an eleven-year-old, had homed in on the crux of her issues, giving her plenty to think about.
Like misplaced guilt.
Debilitating fear.
The power of love to linger beyond death.
And he’d also reassured her he was ready to move on, risk or not.
The question was, did she have the same courage?
Chapter Twelve
“Did you drop off Toby this morning?”
“Yes.” Scott strolled into Gram’s room, circled behind her chair by the window and studied the in-progress seascape. “That’s coming along nicely.”
“It better be.” She cocked her head and gave it a critical scrutiny. “Janice called today to say that young couple bought my painting, and she’d like a few more to display.”
Scott grinned and faced her. “Now that’s worth celebrating.”
She waved off his comment, but excitement had daubed bright spots of color onto her cheeks. “You’re in high spirits tonight.” She set her brush down and squinted at him.
Yeah, he was. Seeing Cindy this morning, even for a few hurried minutes while he’d handed off Toby, had brightened his whole day.
Not that he was going to tell that to Gram. She needed no encouragement when it came to jumping to conclusions about his love life.
“Things went well at the site. We finished the structural steel.”
“Hmph. Never saw you that happy about a bunch of steel before. But different strokes...” She shrugged. “So now you’re off to San Francisco.”
“First thing in the morning. I’ll be in meetings all day, and Mattson wants to have dinner tomorrow night.”
“When are you picking up Toby?”
He wandered over to a chair against the wall across from her and sat. “Saturday afternoon.”
“I thought Cindy was going to a wedding.”
