by Liz Talley
“Hey,” she said, pulling out the old-fashioned wire chair that was shaped like a heart. Oh, the irony. “What are you eating?”
Jenny spooned another bite of custard into her mouth and moaned. “Egg custard. I swear this stuff has crack in it. I’m getting another one. You want?”
“Nah,” Eva said. “Just grab me a coffee. Oh, and hell, an oatmeal cookie. Here’s some money.”
“Save it,” Jenny said with a wave, striding to the counter. No one else was there. Sunday afternoon wasn’t a jumping time for a bakery, but Patty Shoemaker opened it from one o’clock to four o’clock each Sunday for cookies and ice cream. She claimed her father used to take her for long drives each Sunday afternoon, finishing it off with an ice cream, so she wanted all kids to have the chance for that memory.
Today she’d have to settle for being the go-to spot for two single gals who needed sugar to deal with heartache.
“Patty says it’s on the house for one of Magnolia Bend’s bravest.” Jenny set the plate in front of her. Eva waved a thank-you to the older woman and then bit into the homemade deliciousness. After pizza last night, waffles for breakfast and now the cookie, surviving Jake would likely net her a few extra pounds.
“So what’s up with you?” Eva asked her friend.
“Nothing much. Jamison French asked me out,” Jenny said, dipping into the fresh custard. “I hesitated because I thought he was into you.”
“We only went out a few times. He’s a nice guy but he wasn’t for me. I like them rough around the edges.”
“I know,” Jenny teased, with a quick lift of her lips. “So what should I know about Jamison?”
Eva hoped Jenny hadn’t called to pick her brain about Jamison. She was so not in the mood. “He doesn’t sweat, his breath smells like cinnamon and he has a set of rules for dating. Didn’t even try to kiss me on the first date.”
“Reeeeally?” Jenny said with a devilish grin.
“You kissed him?” Eva laughed.
“Oh, I did more than kiss him, but that’s a story for another day. A really kinky story. Those prim and proper guys always fool you.” Jenny’s eyes danced as she dove back into her custard. “But I didn’t ask you here to talk about Jamie and his really talented hands. I have a scoop on your Jakey.”
“Scoop?” Eva’s heart leaped at the thought of any gossip involving her…and Jake. No one should have known about them. They’d been surrounded by only birds, squirrels and silent cypress trees.
“So I was at Ray-Ray’s Thursday night and I overheard Jake and Clint getting into it.”
“Like a fight?”
Jenny nodded. “Mmm-hmm, and it was over you.”
“Me?”
“Clint was cold as ice. Just frosty. And Jake was himself, all smiles when he entered.” Jenny jabbed a spoon at her. “I’m not a big gossiper but since this was about you, I felt I should retell it.”
“Of course.” Eva unconsciously leaned closer. “So…”
“Well, I couldn’t hear everything, but the gist is Clint told Jake to stay away from you.”
“Stay away from me?”
Jenny nodded eager as a golden retriever with a tennis ball in its mouth. “Yeah, and he was terrible to Jake. Said you were too good for him and that Jake would only hurt you. Said Jake should be unselfish for once in his life. Can you believe?”
Eva swallowed hard and nearly choked on a crumb of cookie. She went into a coughing fit, and Jenny thumped her a little too hard on the back. “Wait, wait, I’m okay.”
Patty sat a glass of water down in front of Eva and she gulped it, coughed once more and said, “Are you shitting me, Jenny?”
“I know. Clint sorta looked sexy being all protective like that. I’ve never seen him be so commanding. So is he into you, or something?”
Eva ignored that question. “What about Jake? How did he act?” Hope and anger simultaneously grew inside her. She knew something had to have happened. Knew it.
But why would Jake chuck all they’d had because of Clint? Was Jake playing at martyr?
No. He was a moron.
The man had let Clint apply his trademark tool of guilt to hammer the lid on anything Jake felt for Eva. That dumb-ass thought he was saving her from himself.
And Clint?
How dare he presume to know what she deserved or didn’t?
So flipping presumptuous of him to meddle in her love life. Of course she’d never told Jake his friend had suggested something more with her. Jake wouldn’t have known that Clint’s words were motivated by jealousy as much as his supposed concern. Like always, Clint had manipulated Jake.
“I gotta go, Jenny,” Eva said, pushing back from the table.
“But what about your coffee? You didn’t drink it.”
Eva stilled, pressing her hands onto the table. “Tell me about Jake afterward.”
“Oh, well, he didn’t stay. Matt sat down for a few minutes and chatted with him and then Jake, looking like he lost a puppy, got up and left. So is there something going on between you and Jake? Like romantic?”
Eva bit her lip. “Well, to be honest, I had hoped. We’d been flirting with the possibility we were made for each other, but then Saturday night he didn’t show up for the dinner we’d planned. He blew me off.”
Jenny smiled. “Yeah, I can see you two being right for one another. Jake’s that kind of guy, you know. He’s looking for something. Oh, sure, he’s stomped around this town, hooking up with women, talking a big game, but all that happened to him after that accident has just eaten away at him. People don’t see it, but I do. I guess sometimes the same kind of people recognize in others what they know lies in themselves. Jake’s been hurting for a long time, but maybe he’s been waiting on that door to crack so he could slip inside to you.”
Eva felt gobsmacked by Jenny’s observation. But as soon as her friend had uttered those thoughts, Eva was certain Jenny had nailed Jake…not in that way…but in his psyche. Jake had been masking his guilt and pain by donning a mask of sunny indifference.
And Clint had erased it as if it was a chalkboard. One swipe of guilt had taken away Jake’s chance for happiness.
Eva’s chance for happiness.
Eva grabbed Jenny’s hand. “Thank you for telling me what happened. I needed to know that.”
Jenny squeezed her hand. “I didn’t know you felt that way about Jake. But with that in mind, I think you have some work to do, friend.”
“And that’s why I don’t have time for coffee. I’ll see you later, and until I figure this out, don’t say anything to anyone, okay?”
Jenny pretended to zip her lips and then she picked up Eva’s remaining cookie. “Go get your happy, girl. I’m gonna finish this cookie before I go rock Dr. French’s world again. Making a man mewl like a kitten is powerful stuff.”
For the first time since yesterday, Eva laughed. Jenny had just given her hope. First, she was going to Clint’s to kick his ass seven ways to Sunday. Then, well, she’d have to pick up Charlie. But come Monday when she and Jake reported for their shift, Mr. Beauchamp was going to find out that letting everyone dictate who he is and how he feels was as stupid as jumping off a cliff with no parachute. No matter what, a person shouldn’t be defined by what others expect him or her to be. Jake expected to be unreliable because everyone told him he was.
God, men were stupid.
But maybe she was, too.
She could be grasping at straws in thinking that Jake wanted more…but then again she knew Jake. She’d been his friend and the woman who loved him for over three years.
All she had to do now was prove to him that he was worthy of her love.
*
EVA COULD TELL Clint knew something was up because for the first time in over a year, she’d shown up sans cookies or muffins.
“Eva,” he said, reversing his chair and allowing her to come inside the rustic yet contemporary lake house. “What a nice surprise.”
“Hey,” Eva said, stepping into th
e large hearth room. Mounted ducks flew over the stone fireplace, and skylights brought in lovely natural light. “Is your father here?”
“No, he’s in town picking up some things. What are you doing here? Not your usual day to visit us.” He maneuvered so he faced the large floor-to-ceiling wall that overlooked the lake. The water was choppy and though it was far, she could see the clearing where she and Jake had made love. A pair of binoculars sat on a small nearby table, giving her a sickish feeling in her stomach. Had Clint watched them make love?
It was a creepy thought, but how else would he have known about them?
“Good, because I needed to talk to you. Privately,” she said.
“Is this about our conversation last weekend? Have you given some thought to my question?”
“No.”
He lifted his eyebrows but said nothing.
“This is about you and Jake,” she said.
“Me and Jake?” His voice sounded incredulous, but she could tell he knew what she meant. “What about us?”
“You know what this is about. Don’t play dumb. Too many people overheard you in Ray-Ray’s. Did you think I wouldn’t hear the rumors?”
“I didn’t care if you heard the rumors. I meant what I said. Jake has no business messing with you. He’s used goods.”
“Used goods? Why? Because he’s slept around? This isn’t the Victorian Age, Clint. Men and women do have sex outside of marriage, quite frequently, in fact. So don’t cast that judgment on him. Not even his own father does that.”
Bitterness etched Clint’s strong jaw. “Oh, I see. It’s too late. You’re already smitten with the great Jake Beauchamp. Fine. Go ahead and try a go with him. You’ll see too soon nothing will come of it.”
Eva set her hands on her hips and glared at Clint. “So you think you can manipulate everyone around you, huh? What, you sit up here on your high horse and plan how you can manipulate people using past mistakes against them?”
“You think that’s what I do?” Clint’s self-righteous smirk disappeared. Target hit.
“Seems like it. You love to lord the fact you were handicapped in that accident over Jake. You’ve chained him to you with guilt, and the thing is, he loves you.”
“No, he doesn’t. He feels obligated. Think I don’t know that?” Clint said, his voice sad. Like he wished it wasn’t so.
“Maybe he feels obligated, but he shows up. He stayed here and shows up for you every week. If the shoe were on the other foot, would you do the same?”
“But it’s not,” Clint said softly. “The shoe is on my foot, and I live with that every day. I live with the colostomy bag, with strange nerve pain, with the fact I can’t do what Jake does. I can’t pick up women, swagger around and sweet-talk everything in a skirt anymore. I live with that shoe on my foot every day. So if Jake feels guilty, good. He should.”
Eva shook her head. “How can you live like that? How can you hold him in your palm like that and squeeze so hard?”
Clint sat a stone, unmoved.
“But this time you didn’t merely manipulate Jake, you manipulated me. You didn’t think this would affect me? That I wouldn’t hurt because of your selfishness?”
“My selfishness? Because I think Jake will hurt you? Because I think being with him is an exercise in futility? I spoke to him on your behalf.”
“I never asked you to. You had no right.”
“Maybe not, but sometimes one has to do things for his friends for their own good. Like you do for Charlie.”
“Oh, my God. You really believe what you did was right.”
Clint shrugged. “Jake will chew you up and spit you out. Make no mistake of that. He can’t be happy.”
“Because you won’t let him. You enjoy using his guilt against him. What does that make you, Clint?” Eva walked over to the man who she’d only thought of in the best of terms until now.
Clint had shown so much good humor and determination in facing his disability. They’d spent many days of the week in the gym working toward his being able to compete in parasports. They’d even planned a trip to Houston for one of the runs. She’d visited him here in this very house, sharing details of her childhood, funny stories from the firehouse. She’d always thought Clint her friend.
But maybe not.
He wanted her for something more than friendship and when he couldn’t have her, he made sure that the one person she wanted, the one person she truly loved, wouldn’t give her a chance.
Clint was a messed-up dude.
He looked up at her now. “One day you’ll thank me.”
“Not today. Probably not tomorrow. Likely never.” Then she turned and walked out of the room.
“Oh, come on, Eva. Don’t leave like this.”
She turned around, coming back with long, angry strides.
“Did you watch? Did you spy on me and Jake?”
Clint narrowed his eyes. “And if I did? You pretty much dropped your sanity when you dropped that dress.”
“You did!” She jabbed a finger at him. “Do you know how sick that is?”
“I stopped watching when I saw what was happening. I’m no glutton for punishment or pervert. So, no, I didn’t watch you screw my best friend.” He pressed a button and rolled toward the ramp that took him to the upper level of the split level.
“You’ve said your piece. You can see yourself out,” he said, before disappearing into the inner recesses of the house.
“You son of a bitch,” Eva whispered under her breath, tears pricking her eyes. She walked out for the second time, this time slamming the door because it felt good.
She’d thought he’d admit he’d been wrong to approach Jake about her. She’d hoped he might go to Jake and say he’d been presumptuous, but instead Clint had remained stonily convicted he’d done the right thing.
And that pissed her off.
Because she was a grown-ass woman who didn’t need anyone to guard her from anything. It also proved Clint didn’t know the first thing about her. She had never needed protecting…especially from her own mistakes.
God, men really, truly were idiots sometimes.
She climbed in her car and called Abigail to tell her she was on her way.
*
COOPER PLATT WAS more than happy to switch shifts with Jake, and the chief didn’t seem to mind, either. So as of ten o’clock Monday morning, Jake was officially a member of A shift. Which meant he didn’t have to work on Monday, which meant he had more time to stew over the crappy thing he’d done to Eva. Which blew. Because he really didn’t want to sit home reliving their horrible conversation.
Thankfully, Abigail called and asked him for some help. To make ends meet he often took on small repair jobs, relying on the skills his father had taught him as a youngster. As the baby of the family, he hadn’t been called on much to lend a hand around the house, until all his siblings had left for college and there was only him to help Dan measure boards and refinish old furniture. Ironically, he found comfort in a hammer and nails, so while many firemen made up for the pittance of a salary by doing lawn service, he hung up a shingle for handyman. Of course he got a couple of calls from lonely ladies who implied their pipes needed cleaning, but for the most part he’d earned a reputation as a guy who could do small projects for a good price.
Abigail had used him a lot in the restoration of her bed-and-breakfast. The main house was beautifully restored, and thus, Abigail had moved on to the small cabins that had once been slave cabins…and more recently had been used as a sort of commune for artists. Abigail had been working to restore the neglected row of cabins so they could be used by guests. She’d been really picky about salvaging all she could from the original structure in order to preserve one of the only plantations with standing slave cabins. The first cabin would not be for guests, but rather a historical tour for visiting classrooms and tourists. Turning something that carried pain into something that could educate meant a lot to Abigail.
So he hopped in his tru
ck and drove out to Laurel Woods, painfully aware he could take a brief hike and reach Eva’s house through the woods. The thought made his heart ache but he ignored it. After all, this would be his lot in life for the foreseeable future.
He parked and trudged out to the cabin and found Abigail wearing a pair of rubber boots, some cutoff shorts and an old softball team T-shirt that had seen better days a few years back. Her hair was held back in a bandanna.
“Finally,” she huffed, carrying a bucket of worm-eaten boards to a small area where a planer sat. “Look at these and see if any of them can be saved. I’m thinking if we run them through this puppy—” she slapped the machine “—we can salvage them.”
“Hello to you, too,” he drawled, shrugging out of the long-sleeved button-down shirt he’d thrown on that morning. The first chilly day of the fall had arrived, and for about one hour he had been chilly. In typical Louisiana fashion it was now once again near eighty degrees.
“Oh, sorry. How are you this morning, Jake?”
“Shitty. And you?”
Abigail smiled. “I’m getting married in two months to the man of my dreams, Birdie got an A on her pre-algebra test and I’m booked for the next three weeks.”
“So shitty, too, huh?” he drawled.
Abigail rolled eyes that matched their mother’s. “I’d ask why you were such a grumpy goose, but I’m afraid of the answer.”
Jake shrugged and took the bucket, eyeing the boards inside. “Let me run these through and it will tell us if any of the flooring is worth saving.”
“I’ll rip out the others,” Abigail said, walking back to the dilapidated cabin. “Hey, Margaret Stein told Hilda she thought it was embarrassing that I wanted to capitalize on these cabins. She said it was insensitive to race relations. Do you think that’s true?”
Jake looked at the run-down cabins. “I never thought about it.”
“I never thought about it, either, but then I did and I kept thinking about how families lived here and even though their lives were horrifying, they mattered. These cabins were the only places they could escape to…maybe I should tear them down and not worry with it.”
