by Deb Kastner
Besides, as she’d told Chance on the night of their date, she was not the type to back away from a challenge—even if the trial in question was the hardest she’d ever faced in her life.
How was she going to go on with this evening pretending nothing was bothering her, when the dull ache in her stomach and the throbbing pain in her head was a constant reminder otherwise?
It was getting dark. There was that, at least. Hopefully none of the family would be able to read her expression. Hopefully she wouldn’t burst into tears.
Fortunately for her, no one locked their car doors in Serendipity or she would have had to make a big production over locating a set of keys. As it was, she simply opened the passenger door and pretended to look for something.
Heavenly Father, I know You sent me here for a reason, and I know You won’t give me more than I can handle, Lord. Please, please help me to be strong in my faith and rest in Your power. This burden feels too heavy for me to carry.
Phoebe closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, a long, cleansing breath. Her prayer had been the reminder she needed to buck up, turn around and go back to face Chance and the Hawkins family.
God had sent her here to Serendipity for a reason—maybe just not the reason she wanted. She would have to rely on the Lord to get her through.
STATUS UPDATE: PHOEBE YATES: God has sent me here to Serendipity for a reason. I have to believe that. But acknowledging it and living it are two different things, and I’m not so good at the second part.
JOSEPHINE HAWKINS MURPHY: And I am thanking God that He did send you to us, dear. I don’t know what we’d do without you.
Phoebe took longer than Chance had expected getting whatever it was that she’d forgotten out of the car. He was about to go look for her when she suddenly reappeared.
It took him only a matter of seconds to sense that something was wrong with her. She was smiling—or at least attempting to—but it was forced and wooden. Her hazel eyes were glassy and unfocused.
“You okay?” he asked, concern making the rasp in his voice even more pronounced. He wondered if she might be ill. She certainly looked it.
He stood to his feet and reached for her elbow in order to steady her.
She brushed his hand away. “I’m fine.”
Chance didn’t believe her. From the way her voice changed in pitch, he doubted whether she believed it herself.
“Here. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you some water.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, but she allowed him to lower her on to one of the lawn chairs. He quickly dug in the cooler for an ice-cold bottle of water, twisted the top and handed it to her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again. He couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that something was wrong with her.
“Of course,” she insisted. “So when do we start the fireworks? When I was walking back, I noticed that some of the other families are already giving it a go.”
“We’ll start as soon as Aunt Jo and Lucy get back. I’m sure it won’t be long now.”
As if on cue, Lucy ran up, followed by Michael.
“Dad,” she asked, out of breath, “can Michael do fireworks with us?”
His first inclination was to say no, that Michael needed to do fireworks with his own family, but then he caught the hopeful gleam in his daughter’s eyes and wasn’t so certain anymore. His gaze flashed to Phoebe, who silently gave him her advice—just the hint of a nod.
“I suppose it will be okay.” His breath left him in a rush as Lucy launched herself into his arms. “If it’s okay with Michael’s family,” he added.
Lucy grinned and hugged him again. “We already asked. They said it was okay with them as long as you said it was okay.”
So he’d been manipulated. Go figure. He’d done the same thing to his own parents when he was a kid.
Aunt Jo sauntered up, her satisfied smile indicating she’d heard most if not all of the conversation—and that she approved. Her T-shirt of the day was Land of the Free, Home of the Awesome, and she’d threaded her already bright red hair with blue and white ribbons—in her unique, somewhat excessive Aunt Jo style.
His glance moved to Phoebe. She apparently also approved of his actions. Her true, genuine smile had returned, and Chance felt an immediate sense of relief.
Talk about killing three birds with one stone. He’d managed to make every female in his family happy with a single sentence. It was a novelty for him, since usually anything he said only managed to get him into hot water.
“Why doesn’t everybody fill up their plates before we get started on the fireworks?” Aunt Jo suggested.
Everyone agreed, and the next few minutes were spent talking and eating and laughing. Phoebe’s mood appeared to have lightened up, for which Chance was thankful. Whatever had been bothering her before didn’t seem to be troubling her now.
Michael and Lucy sat on the edge of the blanket, while the adults took the lawn chairs. Chance silently, and hopefully offhandedly, observed the young couple. Lucy was talkative and flirtatious, while Michael seemed to be carefully studying his food and not saying much.
Probably nervous, if he were to guess. In other circumstances Chance might not have interfered, but he didn’t even try to mistake Phoebe’s meaning when she leaned over and nudged him in the ribs.
Make the poor kid comfortable.
Chance cleared his throat. “So, Michael, what are you doing this summer while you’re out of school?”
Yet another comment that earned him instant approval from the ladies. He could get used to this. And once he had Michael talking, the boy lost some of his rigidity.
Before long the food was finished and the plates and utensils put away. It was nearly dark now. Chance reached for the bag of fireworks he’d brought along.
“Do you want to start with sparklers or a fountain?” he asked, digging around in the bag to see what he had available. Celebrating the Fourth of July was as much a family tradition as it was a town ritual. For as long as he could remember, it had always been his job to pass out and light the fireworks. He pulled out a long-stem lighter he kept around just for this occasion.
“Sparklers!”
Chance laughed. Maybe not so surprisingly, it had been Aunt Jo who’d spoken. She was almost as excited over doing fireworks as the kids were.
“You want one?” he asked Phoebe.
She shook her head. “I’ll just watch, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” He grinned at her. “But don’t be surprised if Aunt Jo has you up and waving sparklers before the night is through.”
“I’ve been warned,” she said with a chuckle.
Chance pulled three multicolored sparklers out of the bag and lit them simultaneously. Then he stepped back to watch as Aunt Jo and the teenagers dashed around, laughing and waving their sparklers in the air. He lit three more just before the first ones petered out and handed them off to the small group.
“You’re sure you don’t want one?” he asked Phoebe again.
She nodded. “Quite.”
When the second batch of sparklers was done, Chance set up a fountain.
Lucy yanked at his sleeve and pulled him aside.
“Michael wants to light the fountains,” she whispered.
“What? No. I’ve always done the fireworks.”
His gut twisted into a heavy knot. He knew Lucy didn’t mean it that way, but he felt like she was just bumping him right out of her life. The next thing he knew, she’d be asking if Michael could carve the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner.
“I just want him to feel included,” Lucy pleaded, her green eyes wide. “Please, Dad?”
No, no and no, his mind echoed, but he found himself nodding, partly because he knew refusing Lucy’s simple request might put another barrier between them, and also because Phoebe, who’d clearly been eavesdropping on the whole conversation, was mouthing the words say yes at him.
“I guess it’s all right,” he conceded gruffly. “As l
ong as Michael is extra careful with the fireworks. They aren’t toys, you know.”
“He’ll be safe,” Lucy assured him, snatching the lighter from his hand. “You’ll be right there watching him.”
And so he would be. His role in the family might be shifting as Lucy grew older, but that didn’t mean he was fading off into the sunset, even if that’s what it felt like sometimes.
He was a Hawkins. Lucy was a Hawkins. And in every way but one, so was Phoebe. But he was fooling himself if he even considered the possibility that the final line could ever be crossed.
Selfishly, he wanted her with him always. But since he’d rededicated his life to the Lord, his perspective had changed. No more simply looking out for number one to the exclusion of the rest of the world. He needed to learn to put others’ needs before his own. Starting with Phoebe.
Most especially Phoebe, because he loved her. He cringed inwardly when he remembered she’d as good as told him she was leaving.
And why wouldn’t she? She had a vibrantly successful career in New York and she was no doubt anxious to get back to it. He couldn’t ask her to stay in this boonie town so far from what she knew as civilization and give up the fast-paced lifestyle she was used to.
He paced around a bit. He was uncomfortable and unsettled in his thoughts, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself now that he was no longer needed to light the fireworks.
“Sit down, Chance, dear,” Aunt Jo requested. “You’re in the way.”
Leave it to Aunt Jo to tell it like it was. He chuckled and slid to the ground on the blanket, stretching himself out like a large cat.
He still felt awkward. Alone.
“Phoebe,” he said in a low voice meant only for her. He reached for her hand. “Come down here and sit with me. It’s the best place to watch the fireworks.”
Her brow rose, but she slid off her chair and onto the blanket, sitting stiff and unyielding completely across from him.
“That’s not what I had in mind,” he whispered when the rest of the family was busy preparing another fountain. He patted the ground next to his chest. “Come sit with me.”
Gold and red sparks shot up with a zinging flare. It was enough light for Chance to see the expression on Phoebe’s face. She looked like she was choking on a chicken bone.
Surely it couldn’t be as bad as all that. It was a simple request and innocent enough, but Phoebe looked panicked, her gaze darting back and forth between Aunt Jo and the teenagers and then back to him again.
So that was the problem. She had an issue with public displays of affection, at least where he and his family was concerned. Maybe that was how it was where she came from, but here in Serendipity, folks acted on what they felt. And even if, in the end, it amounted to nothing, he wanted—needed—to show Phoebe how he felt.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he growled, wrapping his arm around her waist, tugging her forward until her back was against the hard wall of his chest.
There, that was better. Now he could really enjoy the fireworks, privately acknowledging that the real fireworks were going off in his heart.
Chapter Fifteen
STATUS UPDATE: PHOEBE YATES: It’s time for me to leave Serendipity now, and my heart is breaking. These six weeks have meant more to me than I could have possibly imagined when I arrived. It didn’t just change my perspective—it changed my life.
He changed my life. ‘Nuff said.
JOSEPHINE HAWKINS MURPHY: Perhaps not enough has been said. Not at all.
Phoebe had almost finished packing. She’d laid out her clothes for the trip tomorrow and put the rest in her suitcase. Aunt Jo had insisted she leave early from the café so she could get her things together. As reluctant as she was to go, Phoebe had eventually given in. People usually did when Aunt Jo was on one of her stubborn streaks.
Walking out of Cup O’ Jo was one of the hardest things Phoebe had ever done in her life. She had so many memories stored up in her heart, from the first time her gaze had met Chance’s, to the indescribable satisfaction of seeing her simply baked pastries lining the once empty case, to the way most of the café’s regular patrons had stopped in to say their personal goodbyes.
She was going to miss it here, more than she would ever be able to express. She would drop all the benefits of her fancy career in a heartbeat if it meant staying on at this café, with this family.
But Chance hadn’t asked her to stay, and she knew now he wouldn’t. She’d given him more than ample opportunity to speak his mind, if there was anything special he wanted to say to her.
She’d experienced a moment of hope when Chance had taken her into his arms right in front of his family on the Fourth of July. Surely that meant something. She hadn’t been able to pay attention to the fireworks at all, not drawn as firmly into Chance’s chest has she’d been. It had been all she could do just to breathe.
She still felt dizzy and light-headed every time she thought about being in his arms, even after three days. Her pulse roared to life every time Chance came into the room, which made cooking with him in that tiny kitchen a near impossibility.
Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was right for her to leave. If she wasn’t careful, she might just find herself blurting out her feelings, putting Chance on the spot and in the extremely uncomfortable position of having to reject her.
Anyway, what would she say? I love you and I want to stay here? Talk about awkward. It would be better for all concerned if she just kept her mouth shut and kept her feelings to herself.
“Have you seen Lucy?” Chance asked, popping his head in the doorway.
Phoebe jumped and put a hand over her sprinting heart. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t even heard him approach, not even with the squeaky boards that lined the hallway.
“You startled me,” she exclaimed.
“Sorry.” Not appearing the least bit sorry, he flashed her a catlike grin. “I was just looking for Lucy. Have you seen her?”
“No. Why?”
Chance frowned. “She’s out with Michael. I told her to be home by nine.”
Phoebe glanced at her watch. “It’s only a quarter to nine. She still has time to make it under curfew.”
His lips twisted and his brow furrowed. “Not by much. I think I’m going to wait for her in the family room. Unless you need help packing?”
“No, I’m good,” she assured him. “I just need to put away my makeup and I will be done. Maybe I’ll join you in the family room when I’m finished.”
He gave her a strained nod. “Please do. I’m not certain I’m going to handle this well if she is late. It would probably be good for you to be there to help me temper my reaction.”
Phoebe chuckled and shook her head. She felt sorry for Lucy if the poor girl broke curfew. But a few moments after Chance left, Lucy appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, good,” Phoebe said, blowing out a relieved breath. “You got home in time. Your dad is about to blow apart at the seams.”
“What?” Lucy asked, confused. “I’ve been in here since a little after eight.”
“In your bedroom?”
Lucy nodded.
“Which your father forgot to check. Or else he didn’t see you there.”
“Apparently.” Lucy’s gaze fell on the open suitcase on Phoebe’s bed. “You’re really leaving us, aren’t you?” she asked, her face falling.
Phoebe’s heart clenched and she struggled to remain calm, at least on the outside.
“Yes, honey. I have to leave.”
“But I don’t want you to go.”
Phoebe chuckled, but the sound was flat even to her own ears. “I remember a time in the not-so-distant past when you didn’t want me in this house at all. Besides, I’ve got a new job waiting for me in New York. They’re expecting me.”
“Can’t they get somebody else?” Lucy suggested, furrowing her brow in a way that reminded Phoebe of Chance. “Some other chef? We need you here.”
Phoebe smiled soft
ly and sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to her with her palm. “Come and sit for a minute.”
Lucy slid down next to her, her hands clenched on her lap and a quivering frown on her face.
“I can’t stay,” Phoebe explained gently. “This has been the best six weeks of my life, but all along we knew this wasn’t a permanent arrangement.”
“It could be,” Lucy stated adamantly.
“How is that?”
“If you married my dad.”
Whatever Phoebe had thought Lucy might say, this was not it. Her face flamed with embarrassment even as her heart filled with longing for what could not be.
“I can’t do that,” she managed to choke out.
“Why not?” Lucy asked sagely. She stood to her feet and turned to face Phoebe. “I, for one, think it’s a great idea. And I know Aunt Jo will agree with me.”
“Well, first of all, your father hasn’t asked me. And secondly—”
“So ask him.”
“I beg your pardon?” Phoebe was flabbergasted.
“Just ask him. I’ll bet he’d say yes.”
“I can’t do that,” she protested, her heart fluttering in her throat.
“Why not? You were the one who said it was perfectly fine for a girl to ask a guy out.”
Phoebe cringed. She’d never expected those words to come back to haunt her.
“That was for the Sadie Hawkins Dance,” she explained, her words pained. When she’d originally said so to Lucy, she hadn’t meant Sadie Hawkins at all. It was perfectly fine for Lucy to ask a guy out. Phoebe just wasn’t that brave. “You were supposed to be the one who asked Michael to the dance, not the other way around.”
“So be like Sadie Hawkins,” she implored. “You have to try. Think about it. Then you’d be Phoebe Hawkins. How chill would that be?”
“Very chill,” Phoebe agreed with a sigh. “But I just can’t do it. I’m sorry, Lucy.”
Lucy bolted to her feet and ran from the room, tears streaming down her face. Phoebe realized her own cheeks were wet, as well. She’d never in a million years want to hurt Lucy in any way. She’d come to love the girl like the daughter she’d never had.
