Mr. G puckered his lips. “Love her like she was one of my own. Known her long enough for her to be my own. Great girl.”
Jeremy mulled that over. Although he glanced over, the old man stayed fixed on the road. Was there a warning issued in those words? Or was he just being paranoid? “I'm looking forward to getting to know her better.”
A moment of silence passed and he hoped he'd satisfied the man's unspoken questions. Jeremy was ready to let the uncomfortable subject drop.
Then, “You take good care of her, and behave yourself, now.”
A smile popped onto Jeremy's face. “Yes, sir. I sure will.”
They arrived at the north gate. Jeremy jumped out and opened it, then closed it again after Mr. G drove the rig through. He half-expected the old guy to take off without him in his haste to locate his favorite girl. But he didn't. Jeremy hopped into the truck again and off they went, bouncing so heartily that he wondered if he'd need a trip to the chiropractor after all was said and done.
Emma and Apple waited right at the spot Jeremy thought they'd be. Apple stood with her injured leg bent, in no apparent distress. Mr. G went right to the horse and bent, gently running fingers over the leg. Emma waited expectantly for a verdict. He straightened slowly, patted the horse's chest and said, “Yep, she's lame.”
“Poor baby. I shouldn't have taken her out today,” Emma said in a rush. “I shouldn't have put two people on her and I shouldn't have taken her down there.” She pointed to the entrance in the trees to the rocky path.
Mr. Grieder came closer and pulled her into a hug. “Hush, now. There were no signs. She's been fine. It's sort of like starting your car. Every day it starts fine. One day, it won't start. The battery's dead. It happens. We'll call Doc Weaver and he'll take care of her. Don't you worry.”
Emma squeezed him and nodded. They worked together to coax Apple into the trailer. Once back to the barn, Mr. G called the vet, who came out on an emergency call. He treated her the best he could, with wraps and medication. Apple was getting a vacation. Rest and relaxation till she felt better.
It was 2 AM by the time Emma dropped Jeremy off at his house. She started to open her car door.
“No, I don't want you walking out there in the dark.”
She smiled and sat back in the seat. Jeremy leaned in and ran his fingers under her hair at the base of her neck. Her soft strands felt like silk cascading over his hand. He watched for invitation in her eyes and seeing it, he placed his lips on hers, slowly brushing them, side to side. She gasped and he deepened the contact, extending it to a long, passionate exercise that caused his heart to explode. The kiss lasted forever, and yet, not nearly long enough. He broke contact and pulled back slightly to look at her. Her eyes were closed, her skin was flushed and her hands waited restlessly in her lap. But not for long. She reached for his face and without opening her eyes, she pulled him back. This time, she ran her tongue over his lips. He opened his mouth and they began a whole new adventure.
He wanted to lose himself in the moment, and yet he was afraid that if he did, his hands would betray him and he would take a step that would destroy their budding relationship. He needed to take this slow. He couldn't be greedy. He needed to put her needs in front of his own.
So, he forced his hands to stay in the vicinity of her face, her hair, her neck. It was enough, he told himself. More than he deserved, but he would willingly accept. When their passion slowed, he ended their intimacy by placing one more kiss squarely on her lips. “You are so beautiful, Emma.”
Her happy beam rewarded him. “And you're a great kisser,” she replied.
He smiled in wonderment. “You must bring out the best in me.”
That pleased her. “Look, I'm sorry for such a late night. Hopefully you won't be yawning all day tomorrow.”
“I'll be okay. But what about you? Don't call your interview subject by the wrong name.”
“Don't slice off a finger with one of those power tools.”
“Ouch.”
She laughed, then quieted, looking at him intently. “Good night, Jeremy.”
“Good night, Emma.” On his way to the front door, she drove off and it occurred to him he hadn't asked her for another date. Dang, he had to get up to speed on this dating stuff.
* * *
Jeremy managed to wait a few days before calling Emma. He didn’t want to seem over-eager, even though the amount of time he spent thinking about her proved he clearly was. “I'd like to take you out to dinner.”
She giggled. “Oh, like a date? A real date where you scrub up, put on a nice outfit, pick me up and take me to a restaurant?”
Her joke struck him speechless for a moment. If she put that much pressure on him, he was going to feel nervous. “Well, I can't promise too much scrubbing or the niceness of the clothes. But I will pick you up and take you to an actual restaurant. How's that?”
“Hmmm, will you pay the check?”
“Of course.”
Deal.” They settled on a time, and when it came, Jeremy pulled his truck into a parking spot at her complex. He slid down from his seat and located the right apartment. Emma opened the door immediately when he knocked and it gave him the idea she'd been standing just inside the door, waiting for him. Whether it was true or not, he kind of liked that.
“Hi,” she said. She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.
“Hi.” He looked around the place. It was the first time he'd seen Emma's place. It was cozy and colorful. The walls were painted an ambitious shade of royal blue, with white trim. Her couch, setting in the middle of the main room, was red; cushions strewn across it were yellow, lime green and purple. “You like color.”
“You think?” she asked playfully. “Come here.” Still holding his hand, she pulled him closer. As their lips joined, she laid her free palm on his chest.
This woman released emotions in him that were either long buried, or he'd never known before. By simply placing her hand on his chest as they kissed, fireworks exploded inside him. He placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed it.
“Want a tour?”
He nodded, unable to speak momentarily while his breathing evened and he concentrated on reducing one particular body part back to normal size.
She led him to the kitchen, a breakfast nook, down the hall to a closet containing a washer and dryer, poked his head into the bathroom, then into the bedroom at the end of the hall. That's it, just a one-bedroom apartment, but it was all adorable like her, clean and neat and reflected her love for books, horses, the beach and … volleyball?
“Did you play volleyball?” He picked up a pair of trophies, one in each hand, while studying several more like them that he left on her dresser.
“Yeah, star center at Myrtle Beach High.”
He nodded, impressed. “Nice job. Did you play in college?”
She shook her head. “My height betrayed me. You can play pretty decent volleyball in high school when you're only five seven. But college is a whole 'nother story. Those chicks are all six foot two or taller.” She shrugged. “I didn't mind. I enjoyed it, and I had a lot of great experiences on the team. Met a lot of great friends. Traveled some. But I was ready to leave it behind me. College was for studying and learning and preparing for my future.”
He set the trophies back. “Wow. You sound like you were one mature college girl.”
“I’m the first in my family to ever go to college. I was determined to do it right and not blow the opportunity.”
He nodded. “I was the first in my family, too.” Then he dropped his head, let out a breath. “But I guess we both know how that turned out.” He turned to the door.
She patted his back. “You're doing the best you can now, aren't you?”
He turned back and met her eyes. He nodded. He refused to feel sorry for himself for how his life turned out. Why would he? He had no one to blame but himself. No one did this to him. It was his decisions, his mistakes. But he wasn't about to let his past ruin his future
. Or for that matter, tonight.
“Would you like to go?”
She burst out in a grin. “Yep.” She headed for the door, then turned around and gave him an exaggerated examination, down, then up. “You scrub up well, by the way.”
He laughed and followed her out.
He'd chosen a place called Quigley's Pint and Plate. It was casual, moderately priced, but didn't scream chain restaurant. It was the only place in town with its own brewery. The menu offered a wide variety of entrees, seafood and otherwise, as well as sandwiches, burgers and salads.
On the drive there, Emma turned and looked out the back window. “Aren't you turning there?”
He shook his head. “No, why?”
She shrugged. “I just figured you'd want to go to the Seaside Inn. Their food is terrific, and you have an in with the owner.”
“Nope, not tonight. I want you all to myself, and I don't want to share you with my sister and my niece, both of whom would be torturing us all night long.” He smiled.
They arrived at Quigley's. Inside, they sat at a table by the window that offered them a gorgeous view of the ocean. They had just ordered drinks when Jeremy heard, “Fancy meeting you here.”
He looked up and saw his stepmother, Leslie, and his dad standing a few steps away, looking sheepish. “Oh, hi, Leslie.”
She turned and motioned to his dad, who stepped up and nodded.
“Leslie, Dad, this is Emma Slotky. Emma, my dad, Hank Harrison and his new bride, Leslie.”
Emma went into high gear, smiling, greeting, shaking hands and making them feel welcome. Her genuine pleasure at greeting them made him want to eat his previous careless comments about family. Not for the first time, he just sat back and observed her and thanked God that she was in his life.
“Well, son, we don't want to bother you, but we also didn't want to sit in the corner and not let you know we were here. We'll get our own table now.” His dad was backing away.
“Nice to meet you, Emma,” said Leslie warmly and turned to follow her husband.
Then Emma said, “Why don't you join us? We haven't ordered yet and the table's plenty big enough for four.”
His dad politely declined, just as Leslie was agreeing with enthusiasm. Jeremy sighed and discretely rolled his eyes at his dad.
Of course, the four dined together. His parents got to know Emma, and she got to know them too, and Jeremy had to admit that he hadn't had quite that nice a dinner in a very long time.
* * *
A few days later, Jeremy was beginning work on a large dining room table. His trio of baby furniture was finalized and delivered and the parents couldn't be happier. Well, with the furniture. The mom was now overdue and dreadfully uncomfortable, so they weren't happy about that. Hopefully that baby was on its way soon.
He worked, set up on the tarp in his backyard. His wood stock was measured, double measured and cut. He cut his notches in the right place, and he was now gluing the various pieces of the table legs together, clamping them in place to his big metal work table, to aid in proper drying. He was so engaged in his work that when his dad circled around the house and entered the backyard, he didn’t even notice till his dad said his name.
His head jerked up. “Hey, Dad.”
Hank walked over to study the pieces of wood, long and short, notched and straight. “What's this gonna be?”
“I call it a Farm House table. It's a big long dining table, probably hold ten comfortably.”
Hank nodded, looked around at a few other projects in various stages of completion. “Business good, son?”
“Yeah, it's getting there. It feels like I'm busy all the time. Which is good. Not making a mint, but I'm making ends meet.” He patted his dad on the back. “Life is good, Dad.” He smiled, knowing his dad worried about him. Dads do that, but their circumstances were so far from normal. The fact that his dad even spoke to him was a miracle, considering everything Jeremy had put him through. Their relationship was another gift from God, a gift wrought from patience, forgiveness and grace. “I'm about ready for a break. Feel like a glass of lemonade? I've got some inside.”
Hank nodded and followed Jeremy into the house. “I finished a job today and found myself with a few free hours.”
“Great. So business is good for you, too.” Jeremy pulled two tall glasses out from the cupboard and filled them with ice. Then he reached into the refrigerator and poured them full of lemonade.
“Son, things just couldn't be better.”
They took their drinks into the living room and sat, facing each other in the small room. “I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that, Dad. I suppose Leslie has something to do with that, eh?”
His old man ducked his head, found a spot on his jeans leg and scrubbed at it a little. “That woman is a blessing, that's for sure. She's just what I needed, at exactly the time I needed it. God was watching out for me, I know that.”
Jeremy nodded as he drank. He agreed with his dad's thoughts. Their story was nothing short of miraculous, and the transformation that Leslie helped forge in his dad's then-lonely, sad existence was impressive.
“You enjoy living at the beach?” The Old Gray Barn had a large part in their story — it was where they first met, it was the one piece of real estate that spoke to Leslie and helped convince her to stay here on the island instead of returning to Pittsburgh, and it was where the two of them committed their love to God and each other at a surprise wedding (surprise for Leslie). He never could quite believe his dad had the guts to pull that one off.
“Oh yeah. That old place is special and the view can’t be beat. Leslie loves it. She'll wake up early before school and walk the beach every morning. Sometimes I'll join her, sometimes not. But she never misses a day. It's like her fuel to start her engine.” He chuckled. He leaned forward and patted Jeremy on the knee. “Say, we really enjoyed meeting Emma the other night. Nice girl, son, really nice girl.”
A feeling of embarrassment swept over him and he didn't know why. He was a grown man, and most grown men had relationships with women. But he'd been taken out of commission for so long, he didn't know how to deal with it. “Yeah, she sure is.”
“Pretty, too.”
Jeremy nodded. “And a good writer.”
“Yep.”
Both men sat in silence. It seemed their discussion of the new woman in Jeremy's life had ground to a halt and neither of them had the emotional depth to dig any deeper. And neither really wanted to. The acknowledgement was enough.
Hank finished his lemonade and got to his feet. “Well, good to see you, son. Glad things are going well.” He put his hands on Jeremy's arms and pulled him in for a hug. “Don't be a stranger. Why don't you bring that little girl over to the house one night for dinner? Leslie loves to cook.”
“Will do, Dad. Thanks. And thanks for stopping by.”
Jeremy watched Hank drive away, then went back to work.
* * *
A few days had passed and his conversation with his dad still weighed on his mind. His dad was a wise man, a fact sometimes forgotten because his words were few. Jeremy took after him in that way. Neither of them spoke that much, but that didn't mean they weren't thinking. Or feeling.
As he leaned over his latest project, getting into a rhythm, sanding back and forth, his mind focused on his dad. When his mom had died, Hank was lost. Understandably so. They'd been a team for so long, and she'd died such a painful death with leukemia. He'd watched the love of his life dwindle away, the life seeping out of her, till he was left alone. His new life left him with all the same problems — unpaid medical bills, disappointment in the mistakes of his only son, a failed business, inability to make ends meet — but now, without the woman who knew him better than anyone and provided that support system that all people need.
Ten quiet, lonely years went by. While Jeremy spent his time behind bars, trying to repent for his crimes, Hank spent those same years in this tiny, shabby bungalow, alone. Sure, Marianne did her best
to include him in her family activities, let him know how important he was to her, Tom and Stella. But life had pretty much been sucked dry of happiness and love for his dad.
Until one day he met Leslie. She caught his eye, his interest, his trust. She wasn't looking for love, and neither was he. But somehow, love grew between the two of them, despite bad timing and broken hearts. And now, look at them. In love, enjoying their life together, sharing their families with each other.
Jeremy stood and wiped a hand over his brow. The sun was particularly bright today for a late November day at the beach. Putting down his sander, he realized what he had to do. Not all important tasks in life were pleasant, and he was sure this one wouldn't be. Didn't mean it wasn't the right thing to do.
He went inside and showered, dressed in fresh clothes and jumped in his truck. The drive to Myrtle Beach passed quickly as he ran through his mind what he wanted, needed to say. He checked the address he'd written on a yellow post-it until he made his way to a quaint reddish ranch house with a carport on the side. He parked on the street and as he walked up the driveway to the front door he couldn't help noticing the shabbiness of the exterior.
The door opened after three doorbell rings. He'd just about given up. Mr. Slotky stood inside, staring at him through the screen door, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Yeah? Who are you? What are you selling?” The man's words slurred and he reached a hand up to rub his forehead.
“Mr. Slotky, could I talk to you for a moment, sir?”
“Who? Who is it?”
Jeremy was well aware that if he came out with his name now, he'd never get inside the house. Mr. Slotky would slam the door in his face, and rightfully so. He needed to somehow delay the introduction until he could get in and share his message.
“Could I come in, please? I'm not a salesman. I have something important I want to talk to you about.”
The man studied him through slightly glazed eyes, then amazingly, opened the door. “Just because you're not a salesman doesn't mean you're not selling anything. You look awful familiar and I have a suspicion of who you are.”
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 35
