Reluctant Housemates

by Linda Barrett

  Rachel watched the youngsters make their way to the locker room, helmets under their arms. She watched each face as the boys trotted by. “Damn it,” she whispered.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Jack.

  “Two of them were part of the hallway ruckus yesterday. They needed a real attitude adjustment.”

  “Schroeder seems like a nice kid. Don’t borrow trouble. Maybe it was just an incident. A small incident.”

  “I hope so.” But she wouldn’t count on it. Winning gave players a high, and friends put them on pedestals. Football gladiators sparked the admiration of everyone, especially when they triumphed in their hundred-yard arena. It was a lot for a kid to handle and still keep his feet on the ground.

  Music sounded, and Rachel turned toward the field again. “I forgot about the halftime show.”

  “So you weren’t a cheerleader?”

  She eyed him. “Give me a break. I was too tall, too gawky and way too unpopular to bother even if I had been interested.”

  “So I’ve heard,” he said.

  Rachel froze. For a moment. Then pasted a grin on her face. “Then for once, the gossip is true. Whatever stories you hear about me from Mrs. Drummond and others are absolutely true.”

  She turned away, needle-like daggers piercing her heart. The pain was so unexpected, she lost her breath for a moment. Jack hadn’t seemed the type to linger for gossipy tidbits.

  “I believe the stories now only because you say they’re true.”

  She blinked quickly, the pain dissolving. “You’re very sweet,” she said softly, echoing his earlier words. Pivoting toward him again, she met his gaze, and they both began to laugh.

  “What a lovely sound you two make,” said another voice. “Laughter is like music. Soothes the soul.”

  Rachel glanced at her mom, who was walking toward them.

  “Hi, Pearl,” greeted Jack. “I absolutely agree with you about that.”

  “Good. I hope you’ll also agree to have dinner with us next Sunday,” said Pearl. “It’s Rosh Hashanah, and unless you’re going home to be with your family, we’d love for you to join us.” She looked at Rachel. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

  Rachel’s eyes narrowed. Rosh Hashanah was the Jewish New Year, definitely a family time and the beginning of the holiest days of the calendar. But she didn’t trust her mother. Her matchmaking mother.

  “Mom, you’re putting Jack on the spot here. He may have other plans—”

  “But I don’t. I just spoke with my mom yesterday. My folks were invited to visit their close friends in Rhode Island for the holiday, but they wouldn’t go until they knew my plans. I told them to have a good time, that I was all set. And now I am.” He shook Pearl’s hand. “Thanks very much. I appreciate the invitation.”

  Pearl beamed at Rachel. “See, Rachel. He’s new to town, and it’s the High Holidays. He shouldn’t be alone when he can be with us and have a nice home-cooked meal.”

  Jack actually looked pretty happy about it, thought Rachel. Must be the food. “I hate to burst your bubble, my starving friend, but if you’re thinking it’s a quiet intimate family dinner, forget it.” Rachel glanced at her mom. “How many this year?”

  “Oh, all the usual suspects, but I guarantee plenty of food. Look, there’s Dad. I’ve got to run. Frankly,” she added in a low voice, “I like basketball better.”

  “Of course you do,” said Rachel. “Your grandson’s on the team!”

  Pearl chuckled and left with a wave. Rachel just shook her head. “She’s very obvious, isn’t she?”

  “She’s obviously a very nice lady who knows when a single guy could use a home-cooked meal.”

  “If that’s supposed to be a hint, you can forget it,” replied Rachel. “I’ve been living on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches myself. No time for culinary efforts.”

  “I know what we can do about our dilemma,” said Jack. “That is, if you’re game.”

  Uh-oh. If he was going to invite her out for dinner, she’d have to turn him down. This time around, she was not going to provide any fodder for gossip at all. Of course, Jack would think she was a coward. But…she mentally shrugged her shoulders. So be it.

  “So what do you say?”

  Huh? Jack seemed to be waiting for an answer. “Would you…ah…mind repeating the question?”

  He raised a brow, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Does that mean nose-in-the-book, nose-to-the-grind-stone Rachel Goodman was actually daydreaming? You sounded like one of the kids.”

  She felt like one at the moment.

  “How about coming out with me tomorrow on The Wanderer? We’ll catch our dinner, I’ll get some work done, and we’ll have fun.”

  She was tempted. Very tempted. A day on the ocean sounded wonderful. Fishing, swimming, relaxing. There would be very little probability of them being seen and becoming an item for speculation. On the other hand, there was always a chance—a big chance—of making another mistake. Another kiss that she’d think about for days. “At what wee hour of a Saturday morning had you intended to start out?”

  He eyed her carefully. “For you, boss, we’ll go late. How about…hmm…six?”

  She appreciated his humorous tone, but six? “How about seven?” she countered.

  He grinned. “Sold.”

  Suddenly suspicious, she put her hands on her hips, her foot tapping the ground. “You set me up again, didn’t you?”

  His eyes sparkled. “Now, you know a gentleman never tells.” She refused to feed him the next natural line. Was he a gentleman? She had her own ideas about that. Was she immune? No. Was she going to spend the day with him, anyway? Yes.

  “And a lady doesn’t keep a gentleman waiting,” said Rachel. “I’ll be ready at seven.”

  “Good.”

  THEY DIDN’T REACH THE marina until almost seven-thirty, after stopping at the Diner on the Dunes to pick up sandwiches and drinks. Rachel had shown Jack the fruit and bottled water she’d taken to share with him. Woman food, he’d thought, glad he’d placed the to-go lunch order with the diner.

  The docking area of the marina looked like a floating outdoor parking lot. All sizes and types of boats gently rocked in the water. Some boats were outfitted for serious fishing with captain and mate chairs elevated; some craft existed purely for pleasure, both motor and sailboats.

  “I guess we’re not the only ones wanting to spend a day on the water,” said Rachel, following Jack along the pier.

  Jack scanned left and right. “It’s September in New England. How many more days of good weather do you think we’ll have? No one’s going to miss taking advantage of a sunny sky. Especially not those two.” He waved at the couple in a nearby boat. “Morning, Chief. Morning, Dee. A great day to be out.”

  Next to him, he heard Rachel mutter under her breath. “Darn it! Just my bad luck.”

  “Well, look who’s here!” said Chief O’Brien, standing up to greet them. “Jack’s got a different Goodman with him this time. Traded David in for Rachel. Good choice, my man.”

  “Hush up, Rick,” said Dee, standing at his side. “You’ll embarrass her.”

  Jack glanced at Rachel’s flushed face, then saw her square her shoulders and look the chief in the eye. “No phone calls, Chief. You hear? I don’t need every ROMEO at the diner making us a topic of breakfast conversation. I’m just helping Jack with his work, and that’s all. This is a business trip—sort of.”

  The chief’s brows rose to his hairline. He turned to his wife. “Who are these people, honey?”

  “Never saw them before in my life,” she replied on cue, before winking at Rachel. “Come on, Rick. We’ve got things to do.”

  As the older couple refocused on their chores, Jack heard the chief say, “Seems to me I’ve been in this situation before—with Sam’s boy, Matt. He had a dozen red roses for Laura, and when he saw me—poor boy—his face turned as red as the flowers. I promised not to say a word.”

  “And look how well that turn
ed out….”

  Their voices faded as Jack and Rachel continued along the pier. Rachel looked straight ahead.

  “Small towns can have their disadvantages,” remarked Jack offhandedly.

  “I keep reminding myself about the lack of privacy,” said Rachel, “but it’s a losing battle. It really is, especially for someone who was born here. Everyone knows everything or will know it in five minutes or less. Grrr…”

  “I like the personal space here, the location. The beach. I touch down in cities when I have to, but give me a coastal town any day.”

  “Do you go out there all year round, Jack?” Rachel asked, nodding at Pilgrim Bay, which led to the ocean. “Even in winter?”

  “If I want to be paid, I do!”

  Was that a frown on her face?

  “It’s dangerous work,” she said softly, confirming his impression. “Even for a pirate.”

  He knew that only too well.

  “I’m careful,” he began. Then shut up as her words registered. “What? What did you call me? A pirate?”

  Blushes became her. The pink glow on her cheeks, the shine in her eyes. He saw them both before she turned away and lifted her face to the morning breeze. She was as lovely to him as the morning itself. His body stirred in agreement. Maybe this outing wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

  IT WAS EASY TO SEE that Jack loved his boat and wanted to show it off. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he asked, extending his hand to Rachel as she climbed on. “Welcome aboard The Wanderer.”

  She searched his face for a moment. “The Wanderer,” she repeated quietly. “Very appropriate, I think.”

  Then she put her hand in his and felt his strength in the fingers that held hers, his strength and his warmth. She glanced up at him towering about six inches above her. For the first time in her life, she actually felt petite. A strange experience for her, uncomfortable in some ways, but nice in others.

  “Thanks,” she said, letting go of his hand once she was on board and on her own two feet again. “How about a tour of this lady?”

  In Pilgrim Cove, everyone put out to sea sooner or later. Rachel’s folks always had a skiff; nowadays her dad and brother co-owned a comfortable fishing boat. She was familiar with most kinds of pleasure craft, and recognized Jack’s as being a sports cruiser, built more for comfort and accommodation than for speed.

  “I’ll guess she’s thirty feet long with a nine-foot beam,” said Rachel as she scanned the craft.

  “On the nose,” replied Jack with an admiring grin. “Originally made to sleep six, it offers the comforts of home.”

  Rachel didn’t doubt the truth of his statement as she placed her beach bag on the rear bench seat, realizing she’d have plenty of room to stretch out and doze if she wanted to.

  “That bench seat flips up and over so you can face aft and fish. I’ve got rods on board. And this forward bench seat slides to create a sun pad if you want to catch some rays. Not that I advise it. Too much sun is harmful.”

  Next, she followed him to the lower deck. “Wow,” she said, slowly studying the galley. It was nothing less than a full-service kitchen, with a half-size refrigerator built in, a large sink, microwave and two burner cook-top. The cabinetry had dark wood accents, and recessed lighting glowed from above.

  A microscope was bolted on the countertop near the sink, and cabinets and drawers lined the walls beneath.

  “I enlarged the galley to get more counter space and a storage area for my work, so I had to give up room in the cabin,” explained Jack. “That’s why she doesn’t sleep six anymore. But don’t worry, I didn’t give up the head—it’s fully enclosed.”

  “And I appreciate that!” A real bathroom on a boat. True luxury.

  Next, Rachel peeked into the cabin where cushioned benches lined the walls and provided plenty of storage underneath. She turned to Jack, who seemed to be waiting for her reaction. He didn’t have to worry about that. “I am speechless. She’s not just beautiful, she’s gorgeous! Now I understand why you’re always away.”

  The Wanderer was his real home. Not his home-away-from-home. He must he have invested a small fortune in the boat, and he obviously loved her. His voice warmed when he spoke about her, and Rachel had seen him stroke her railings as though stroking a lover’s skin.

  She kept her thoughts private, but the implication of what she saw was plain. Jack Levine was the proverbial rolling stone. Or, in his case, perhaps a rolling wave, never remaining on shore for more than a visit. Always looking for the next tide out to adventure. A wanderer.

  “What’s wrong, Rach?” asked Jack, concern lacing his voice. “You look so sad all of a sudden.”

  She pasted a smile back on. “Not sad. Just feeling the good vibrations on this rowboat.”

  He laughed at her joke and stepped into the galley with their lunch, chatting about his work. Rachel leaned against the counter, relieved that he had accepted her glib answer.

  “It’s certainly not a real lab, but it serves the purpose,” said Jack, stowing their sandwiches in the fridge. He winked at her. “Normally, I put fish specimens in here for safekeeping until I can transport them to the lab.”

  “Where would that be?” she asked.

  “MIT for this project,” he replied. “But it depends on who’s contracted me. I go to Woods Hole, the Boston Aquarium and a variety of research and academic institutions from Canada in the north to Florida in the south.”

  His words confirmed her impression. He never stayed in one place too long. “What else do you sample besides fish?” asked Rachel, starting to become interested.

  “Oh, sediment and mud samples from the bottom of the ocean. I’ve taken sediment from the Charles River in Boston to see if it matches the Pilgrim Cove samples. Don’t know yet, but if its positive, it would mean chemical pollution such as lead, chromium and mercury has made its way over.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t sound very appetizing.”

  “But knowledge is power,” he replied. “With the information we gather, we can figure out how to go about restoring a healthy marine environment. And that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Polluted oceans affect everyone.”

  “Is that what you’re teaching in class?” Rachel asked. If Jack could infuse his students with his own enthusiasm, he’d make a lasting impact on them.

  “That’s the single most important idea I want them to walk away with.”

  She had no quarrel with his statement, and as she followed him back up top, she made a mental note to visit Jack’s class during the week. Plan books couldn’t tell the whole story by a long shot. Hopefully, Jack would make science come alive for the students.

  He untied the ropes that held The Wanderer to the dock, and slid into the seat at the control console. His actions were precise and confident. With his hand on the ignition, he turned to her. “Ready to go?”

  “Let ’er rip.” She took the seat across the aisle from him, stretched her legs in front of her, her arms along the back, feeling totally safe and comfortable. As though she’d been there a hundred times before.

  The engine came to life, and Jack steered the boat slowly out of her slip, away from the marina, and followed the shoreline of the peninsula from the bay side to the Atlantic side.

  Rachel stood and walked to the forward rail, her eyes on the open sea. Sunlight glinted on the small breakers, making a million patterns of dazzling light. The horizon stretched forever. She felt a smile cross her face, a bubble of excitement fill her.

  “It’s positively awesome!” she said, twirling toward Jack, her enthusiasm matching her words. “I’d almost forgotten how beautiful it is out here.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Beautiful?” he finally said. “Go look in a mirror! I’ve never seen you so relaxed. So full of joy. Look in the mirror and see what I see.”

  Her legs felt weak, and she sat down again quickly. Unless he’d taken acting lessons, the man was sincere. “Why are you saying such things, Jack? You don’t ha
ve to give me compliments. I’m an average, everyday woman. And that’s okay with me.”

  Jack glanced at her, then studied his charts and slowed the engine. He steered the boat as if looking for a particular spot. “There’s nothing ordinary about you, Rachel,” he finally said. He turned the key and silence filled the air.

  “Don’t you think it’s time to let it all go?” he asked softly, twisting in his seat to look at her. “Adolescence is over. That was then. And this is now. You’re not the same awkward kid you were. In fact, you’re one of the most coordinated, graceful people I know, smart, ambitious and one hell of a beautiful woman besides. You’ve got the whole package.”

  Her mouth opened, but no words came forth. Never a game player, never a bar-hopper, and definitely not a Sex and the City type, she was hopeless at repartee. Was there even a clever retort to such a comment?

  She didn’t need to say anything, however, because Jack wasn’t finished.

  “I’d kiss you right now and never stop, but I have the advantage.” He looked at their surroundings. “Where could you run if you wanted to?”

  Running away was the last thing on her mind. Running her fingers through his thick, wavy hair—now, there was a thought.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JACK FLIPPED A SWITCH on the console. “I’m lowering the anchor here to take some water samples, and then we can swim.”

  She didn’t reply, and he wondered if she’d heard him. No matter. He had to keep busy, had to keep his mind off Rachel Goodman. The day suddenly loomed long and difficult.

  He opened the bench seat to get the equipment he’d need. In less than two minutes he’d slipped test tubes into their holders along a twenty-foot pole he’d assembled earlier.

  He hoisted the apparatus and carefully slipped it down into the water, trying not to create any disturbance so that his samples would accurately reflect true conditions at each level.

  Jeez! He was making a big production about a procedure he could do blindfolded. Which proved he was desperate for distraction. He hadn’t looked at Rachel for at least…thirty seconds. Turning to remedy that situation, he was in time to watch as she removed her blouse, then her shorts, and stood silhouetted against the morning sun in a white bathing suit that clung to every tempting curve. He couldn’t move. He forgot to breathe. Like an angel, she was illuminated in a halo of light.