Redemption

by Rebecca Sharp

  I nodded and swallowed over the lump in my throat. I needed to stop reading into every concerned touch and caring gesture. I needed to, or my heart was going to end up with a confession of its own.

  “Nice to meet you,” Mick grinned.

  “See you around, short-stack,” Miles tacked on, leveling me with his own nickname.

  Ash let out a low growl and Miles’ intrigued smile only grew.

  What I wouldn’t do to be a fly on that new drywall over the next few hours…

  “Good morning!”

  The friendly exclamation came barely a second after the welcome bell signaled my entrance into Ocean Roasters.

  “Hi.” I flashed a shy smile at the brunette standing behind the counter.

  Her cheerful eyes were framed by large glasses and her long brown hair was plaited down the back of her skull in a French braid to rival Rapunzel.

  As I walked up to her, I glanced around the coffee shop which, as the sign outside indicated, had been around for over a century. It felt familiar—and not just because I’d been in here a few days ago looking for Ash. There was a sense of communal nostalgia which seemed to bleed from the dated furnishings, worn fabrics, and numerous photos.

  It felt comforting. Warm. Even to an outsider.

  “I’m Eve,” the barista introduced herself with a sunny smile. “You must be Taylor!”

  My step shuffled ever so slightly. “I am… How did you know?”

  “Oh, crap!” she exclaimed. “Sorry, I’m not a stalker. Larry told me Ash had a guest, and then when Ash stopped in the other day, I asked him about it, you know, because we used to work together, so I figured I’d get the scoop—” She broke off with a small shake of her head. “Sorry.”

  I laughed and relaxed against the counter. “It’s fine. I am Taylor, Ash’s guest. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “So nice to meet you,” she beamed back. “And I love your hair, by the way,” she gushed and my fingers instinctively went to my short, wavy locks. “I wish I could pull off short hair. I do a ton of yoga, which makes this old thing”—she pulled her braid over her shoulder—“a huge pain in the butt, but I’ve just never looked good with short hair.”

  I chuckled as she shook her head.

  “Contacts and short hair… Both just not made for me.” She sighed with exaggerated resignation before her eyes popped wide and back to me. “I’m so sorry. I’m totally rambling.” She adjusted her glasses again. “What can I get you?”

  I glanced to my stomach. “Decaf. Something decaf, please.”

  “Not a problem.” She winked and set to work on my drink. “So, you’re a friend of his from Tennessee?”

  “His sister’s.”

  She nodded. “So, what are you up to today?”

  I sighed and glanced outside. “Not too much,” I confessed. “I wanted to help Ash with his restaurant, but I’ve been barred from the premises because of the baby.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah… I was told to get some coffee and a fritter.” I shrugged. “I guess I’ll take a look around town. I’m going to be staying… for a little while, at least… and I’m nowhere near maternity leave, so I’m going to see if there is anywhere looking for part-time help.”

  “We are.” Her smile bloomed as she set my mug of steaming, dark liquid in front of me.

  My mouth parted. “Really?”

  I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Ash about it, figuring I would help him with his business until I couldn’t and then look for something else. I just hadn’t expected that day to come so soon.

  “Absolutely!” She clapped her hands together. “It’s just Larry and me now. Although, my sister, Addison, runs a recovery house for women, Blooms, so I may have a few girls from there willing to help out, but we could totally use you!”

  Excitement bloomed in my chest. I wanted to do something—to give back—somewhere. And if there was any place Ash wouldn’t take issue with me working at, it was here, where he’d worked, too.

  “Use her for what, Eve?” an age-worn voice rasped from the back room a second before Larry, the old man and owner who’d I’d met the other day, appeared.

  Unlike most men his age—I assumed seventies though I had a feeling it was more like eighties and he just looked really good—Larry had a full head of perfectly combed gray hair, tan skin, a strong jaw, and a full smile of straight teeth (when he chose to reveal them.)

  Eve patted a hand on his shoulder. “Taylor is looking for some part-time work, so I offered if she wanted to help out here.”

  His gaze focused on me from behind narrow frames.

  “I’d think you have your hands full over there, Taylor,” he drawled slowly.

  I took another fortifying sip and replied, “I was just telling Eve how I can’t help Ash with the restaurant right now because it’s not safe for the baby.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the restaurant,” he informed me without missing a beat.

  Oh. He meant Ash.

  I caught Eve’s small smile in my periphery.

  Well, I did have my hands full with Ash.

  My hands… and a lot of other parts of me…

  “Do you want to work here?” he asked bluntly, moving on from his loaded statement.

  I couldn’t say that working in a coffee shop had been the first thing that came to mind. Honestly, and ironically, my first thought was to head to the church and see if they needed help with any of their charity programs.

  But instead, I surprised myself by saying, “I do.”

  I felt comfortable here, even though I had no clue what to do. I felt welcomed. And, selfishly, the thought lingered in the back of my mind that Ash had worked here, with these people, so maybe they could give me more insight into the good man who was guarding his own secret.

  “Well then, you’re hired.” Larry went on with matter-of-fact gruffness. “Eve can show you the ropes.”

  “Thank you.”

  Well, if that wasn’t the easiest job interview I’d ever had.

  “Oh, this will be so great. It’s just been me for like two months now and, before that, it was only Ash, so it’ll be awesome to have another girl here.”

  “I should warn you, I have no idea how to work that thing.” I stared at the espresso machine behind her.

  “Pavi?” The machine had a name? “Oh, I can teach you that.” She chuckled. “Come on, let me give you the official tour before I send you on your way for one of Josie’s muffins. Whoever suggested them was absolutely right; they are little bits of heaven in every bite.”

  Taylor

  “Hi, Taylor. It’s your mother…”

  I looked down at my stomach, my mother’s voicemail fading against the voices in my head.

  I loved this baby, each day more than the last, but it would be a lie to say there wasn’t at least one moment out of the day where the vestiges of my upbringing made me feel ashamed of my situation.

  It had nothing to do with being strong—even strong people felt guilt.

  And it had nothing to do with being Catholic.

  You should be skinnier, reality TV said.

  You should have more curves, tabloids of the Kardashian’s whispered.

  You should be able to have a job, raise your kids, keep a perfectly clean house, full social life, exercise, and have a healthy relationship with your husband, social media insisted.

  You should be married before having sex or having a baby, religion reminded me.

  Whether it was Facebook or the Holy Book, guilt was universal.

  It stared back at us when we looked in the mirror and reminded us of all the areas we fell short and all the ways we were less…. Less than perfect. Less than acceptable. Less than loved.

  Guilt was like intoxication. It didn’t matter what kind of drug or which kind of alcohol was used, they all distorted reality until you no longer saw who you really were.

  A fat teardrop landed on the face of my phone as I stared at my reflection in it.

 
My mother’s voicemail had been short. Guilt doesn’t mince words.

  I wondered how long it would be until I heard from my parents. I hadn’t told them I was coming out here, afraid of the conversation it would spark.

  “Why are we just finding out, arriving to an empty house, that you’ve gone out west on vacation? Don’t you think you should have mentioned it? I had so many events planned with women from the church. I thought it would be good to cleanse you of the sins I’m sure you were exposed to while on that… tour.”

  She said tour as though it had been a VIP exclusive journey through Hell itself.

  “Hey.”

  I yelped as my phone clattered to the floor and I jumped up from the bed.

  Ash stood in the bathroom doorway, wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist. I’d thought he was still outside working, but I must just not have heard him over the washer and dryer running in the closet right in front of me.

  “Sorry. Hi.” I grunted as I bent forward and retrieved my phone. “I didn’t hear you in there.”

  I could foresee the single bathroom situation becoming a problem. Well, any situation that involved Ash in a towel felt like an act of terrorism on my nerves. An unexpected attack that completely destroyed me.

  Towel terrorism.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him in a towel before. There were plenty of times I’d seen Ash in various states of undress when I used to stay over with Blake. But the crush of a girl was a whole different ballgame than the desire of a woman—and this woman had wanted her best friend’s brother for far too long.

  “Shaving,” he muttered as he took a few steps toward me. “What’s wrong?”

  I set my phone to the side like the voicemail made its judgment infectious. “Nothing.” My fingers knotted in my lap.

  He just stood there. Waiting.

  I sighed. “My mom just called and left me a voicemail. It’s not a big deal.”

  “What did she say?”

  I pursed my lips and looked up at him, noticing a spot just underneath his bottom lip where a drop of blood pooled where he must have cut himself.

  Without thinking, I pushed off the bed, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand along the way, and reached up and wiped the drop off his skin.

  Without thinking how close it brought me.

  Without thinking how intimate a gesture it was.

  His nostrils flared and I saw the domino of the way his jaw tensing tipped down over the muscles in his neck and onto his chest.

  I jerked my hand back, relieved when no more blood appeared. “Sorry, you were bleeding.”

  “I see that,” he replied with a low rumble, wiping his hand over his chin. “What’d she say?”

  I shrugged. “The usual.”

  “And California of all places… Taylor, they are loose with their morals out there. I’m just so shocked and disappointed. I sincerely hope you are going to church at least twice a week, and that you call or just come home soon. I have a list of good, Catholic men for you to meet. You’ve waited far too long to settle down.”

  His eyebrows rose like golden arches.

  “I didn’t tell them I was coming, so of course she’s upset to come home and not find me there.”

  “You mean upset that she doesn’t get to parade you around as the Bible’s poster child?” he retorted.

  I managed a brief smile. “And the fact that I came out to California…”

  He sucked in a mocking breath. “Seventh Circle of Hell right here.”

  That managed to draw a laugh—but the laugh loosened the tear that had been trying to hang on from the corner of my eye.

  “Don’t worry about her, okay?” He grabbed a tissue and brought it to my face, gently capturing the tear. “Don’t call her back. Don’t deal with her until you are ready.”

  My lips parted when the warm pad of his thumb brushed against my skin, dispersing a warm spray of sparks along my cheek.

  “I’ll try…” My voice was frail and flickering.

  Drawing back with a forceful clearing of his throat, Ash let his hand fall away from me, as though he realized he’d gotten too close.

  “I’m heading into town to meet Danny,” he informed me, walking over to the chest of drawers and pulling out clothes.

  “Oh.”

  Do not covet.

  Do not covet.

  “Okay.”

  Do not cry.

  “You okay here?” He looked over his shoulder. “I don’t have to—”

  “I’ll be fine.” I refused to meet his gaze. “I’m not a baby… I’m just having one.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, until you see a mouse in here.”

  “What!” With a squeal, I scrambled onto the bed. “There are mice in here?”

  By now Ash was snort-laughing at me. I didn’t know what it was, but mice were just the one critter I couldn’t handle.

  “No,” he said between laughs. “Remember that one time—”

  “Yes,” I snapped.

  Blake and I had been having a sleepover spa night when we first started high school. We bought face masks from the grocery store, complete with freshly sliced cucumbers, and whatever else we thought happened at the spa.

  We’d had our robes on and were relaxing on their couch downstairs when Ash and Zach snuck into the room and planted a dozen tiny rubber mice all over our stuff and then, announced their presence by throwing one at us and yelling, ‘There’s a mouse!’

  I didn’t know it was possible for my heart to stop and then beat so fast before.

  “You guys screamed so loud, I think you woke all of Franklin up.”

  I groaned even though I was chuckling too. “Not cool.”

  My laughter died when, instead of going into the other room to change, Ash walked back into the bathroom and only partially shut the door.

  I couldn’t see anything—but that wasn’t the point. I could if I walked over there and pushed it open… I could see him if I wanted to.

  “Anyway, how was your afternoon? Did you get a muffin?”

  “Good.” I kept my eyes down and resumed my spot on the bed, folding my legs underneath me. “I did get a muffin—with Eve, actually, who I met at Roasters. And I talked to Larry again.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He opened a drawer and pulled out some of his clothes. “How did that go?”

  “Well…” I began slowly, hesitantly allowing my gaze to slide back to him. “I might have ended up with a job at Roasters.”

  “What?” The door flung open wide.

  At least he had a shirt and jeans on now—even if those jeans were only partially buttoned.

  I cringed as he stalked a few steps toward me.

  “Why would you do that?” He huffed. “I’m going to have to talk to Larry—”

  “No! I asked for it—if I could help.”

  “What is it with you and wanting to help?” he demanded.

  “Because I just can’t sit around and do nothing, Ash,” I argued. “I won’t.”

  He crossed his arms. “I don’t think growing a baby is doing nothing.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean,” I told him. “I need to be productive. Otherwise, my mind will start making all kinds of other lists”—like all the ways I’d fallen short—“that I’d rather not think about.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “It’s just in the afternoon. And it’s not like you can stop me,” I challenged. “That is outside of your house and therefore, outside of your rules.”

  “It is outside my house, but without my truck, how are you going to get there?”

  Crap.

  I hadn’t thought that all the way through.

  “I can walk.”

  “Christ,” he swore and wiped a hand over his mouth with a heavy sigh. “I’m not trying to stop you, Tay. Just want to make sure you aren’t adding too much weight to your shoulders.”

  “It’s just going to be a few afternoons, that’s all.”

  “Well, yo
u’re welcome to take my truck, if you need it,” he offered. “I just have a meeting… community thing… on Tuesdays, so probably better if it’s not then.”

  It took me a second to respond because the way he mentioned this meeting seemed strange. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it except that he said it with almost too much information made me feel like there was something he was hiding.

  Was it Danny? But why wouldn’t he say that?

  My pulse deadened to a heavy thud. Or was it something to do with why he’d come all the way out here?

  “Thank you,” I replied before my thoughts got carried away. “I just want to have something to do while I’m here.”

  “How long do you think you’ll stay?”

  I froze.

  Until I know what’s changed about you, Ash Tyler. Until I feel safe enough to tell you about your child.

  “I’m not—”

  “Tay,” he cut me off. “That’s not how I meant it. I was just… wondering… you’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

  I nodded silently.

  “You sure you’re going to be okay?” When I looked up at him this time, he was dressed and ready to leave.

  He looked so good. Jeans molded along his legs. Gray long-sleeve tee tight against his muscles, the three little buttons in the front opened to reveal a tempting triangle of skin.

  For a second, I let myself wonder what it would feel like if the way he took care of me was because he felt something more for me than obligation to his sister’s friend.

  For a second, as I sat cross-legged in my old flannel pajamas, the front of them starting to strain against my stomach, I let in jealousy.

  “Taylor?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded frantically. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Seriously, don’t worry about your mother. Not now.”

  I smiled at him, wishing my mother was who I was thinking about. “Thanks.”

  He stared at me for another long second and I could see the debate in his eyes whether or not he should leave me right now.

  “Go,” I insisted. “I’m sure I’ve already made you late. I’m fine, really.”

  With a tight nod, he murmured goodnight and left the room and, a few seconds later, the house altogether.