Bisky got a phone call and walked over to the far corner of the room to take it. Sunny grabbed Gemma’s arm. “I’m worried about Mom.”
“Why?” Gemma studied her.
“She had a week to herself. She used to, you know, go out and have fun, but now...”
“Now she just focuses on you?” Gemma smiled at Sunny. “You’re a sweet child to care so much about her, but she’ll be fine.”
“But,” Sunny said, her eyes filling, “I’m growing up, and I’ll go away to college, and who will take care of her then?”
Funny that Sunny thought she took care of her mother rather than the reverse. “Your mom’s pretty resourceful,” he reminded her.
“And she’s strong and smart and beautiful. If she wants companionship, she’ll have it. Male or female.” Gemma hugged Sunny. “Listen, I’m going to take off,” Gemma said. “So glad you’re happy with your new space, Sunny. Bisky,” she called to her cousin, who’d just ended her phone call, “thanks for all your hospitality and for giving me the opportunity to do this.”
“Thank you! It’s perfect!” There was more hugging, and then Gemma started down the stairs.
She was leaving. He might never see her again. “I’ll walk her out,” he told Bisky.
She narrowed her eyes, studied his face for a minute and then nodded. “Sunny and I will be up here,” she said. “Go.”
* * *
GEMMA STEPPED CAREFULLY down the stairs, since her eyes were blurry with tears.
She was so happy for Bisky and Sunny. The satisfaction she felt at what she’d created—what they’d created—made her certain that starting her own interior design firm was the right thing to do. Homes helped families, and she wanted to help people have the perfect home.
She had to admit, she wanted a perfect home and perfect family for herself, but it wasn’t going to happen. She’d tried and failed. Failed as a wife, and lost her chance as an adoptive mom.
Fang slept in a sunny spot by the window. She picked him up and made her way out to the car, but when she opened the door of it, there was Isaac behind her.
And that was what would make it really hard to leave. She loved it here, and she cared for Isaac a lot, but it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t feel the same.
The bay breeze was cool, the sun sparkling brightly on the water. She looked out across it and then turned to face Isaac. “Thank you for everything,” she said. “That was a great project to do.”
“It was,” he said. “But Gemma...” He reached out and pushed back a lock of her hair.
He was going to kiss her goodbye. Just like he had before. It had rocked her teenage world and she’d never gotten over it.
“I wish you wouldn’t go,” he said.
She turned away and set Fang down into his little dog seat on the passenger side of the car. She had to avoid Isaac’s kiss. Maybe then, she wouldn’t be so sad.
“Gemma.” He said her name forcefully, so forcefully that she turned back to face him. He was so handsome, and his eyes were so warm.
She felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Yeah?” she managed to say.
“Gemma, I mean it. Don’t go. Stay and let’s see if we can make something of this.”
His words soothed a sore, aching part of her heart, but she still felt insecure. “Your aunt said it. I’m not your kind. I won’t fit in.”
“You fit in perfectly. You fit perfectly.” And then he was pulling her close and tucking her against him, and they did fit perfectly together.
He lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was epic. Of course, because it was the last.
After a moment, she pulled away. “I can’t stand it,” she said. Tears pressed at her eyes, but she wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t let herself cry.
“You can’t stand...what?” He looked puzzled, hurt.
“I can’t stand for you to kiss me and leave me feeling so much when it’s never going to work.”
Fang barked behind her. She needed to get on with her drive, with her life. The trouble was, the life she was going back to seemed cold and desolate.
Isaac took her hands and held them firmly. “I just want you to explain,” he said. “Okay, you’re going to leave, but why? What is it? You don’t like it here? You don’t want to get involved with a man who’s middle of the road in looks and success and income?”
He thought he was middle of the road? “Don’t you see, Isaac, that I’m an outcast?”
He tilted his head and studied her, so closely that she felt self-conscious and looked away.
He touched her face, let his hand tangle in her hair. “No. I don’t see that.”
“Then you’re not looking.”
“I am looking. I see a woman who’s stronger in the broken places. A woman who’s gone through things and has scars, sure, but who’s more beautiful for all she’s been through. A woman who’s creative and funny and yeah, different, but different is good.”
She gulped in a breath. “I want to believe you, but...” But she’d heard the reverse for most of her life, first from her family, and then from the husband they’d picked for her.
“I can make you believe if you’ll stay and try,” he said. “Stay and try.” He held out his arms, but he didn’t come closer. It was up to Gemma to decide.
She hesitated. There would be adjustments to make, efforts to fit in that might or might not work. A business to start.
A relationship to try, to take a chance on.
Back home there was... Familiarity? The comfort of knowing where she fit in, even if it wasn’t a good place?
She looked at Isaac’s strong, open face, his warm eyes. Yes, everything inside her said all at once, and she stepped forward.
Fang barked as they kissed again, and then Bisky and Sunny came out of the house. “You’re still here!” Bisky sounded happy.
“I think...” Gemma said. “I think I’m going to stay in Pleasant Shores for a while.”
“You are?” Bisky opened her arms wide. “I’m so glad. Let go of her, Isaac. I want to hug her, too.”
“Yes!” Sunny pumped her fist. “You can keep Mom company.”
Fang whined from his dog seat, and Isaac reached into the car and picked him up. “What do you think, dude? Stay awhile and get to know me better?”
Fang barked, and they all laughed, and hugged, and Gemma cried a little, happy tears.
She’d never felt a part of things, not really. But now...
She leaned against Isaac’s chest, and he put a strong arm around her.
This, her heart said, and it came to her: this was what home felt like. This place and these people, and most of all, this man.
Finally, after a lifetime of longing for it, she was home.
* * *
Read on for a sneak peek at the next book in Lee Tobin McClain’s The Off Season series, coming this Christmas!
CHAPTER ONE
KAYLA HARRIS CARRIED a bag full of snowflake decorations to the window of her preschool classroom. She started putting them up in a random pattern, humming along to the premature Christmas music playing quietly.
Yes, it was Sunday afternoon, and yes, she was a loser for spending it at work, but she loved her job and wanted the classroom to be ready when the kids returned from Thanksgiving break tomorrow.
Outside the window she was decorating, November wind tossed the pine branches and jangled the swings on the Coastal Kids Academy’s playground.
Then, another kind of movement from the playground caught her eye.
A man in a long army coat, bareheaded, ran after a little boy. When she pushed open the window to see better, she heard the child screaming.
Heart pounding, she rushed downstairs and out the door of the school.
The little boy now huddled at the top of the sliding board, crying. The man stood between
the slide and a climbing structure, forking his fingers through disheveled hair, not speaking to the child or making any effort to comfort him. This couldn’t be the child’s father. Something was wrong.
She ran toward the slide. “Hi, honey,” she said to the child, keeping her voice low and calm. “What’s the matter?”
“Leave him alone,” the man barked out. His ragged jeans and wildly flapping coat made him look disreputable, maybe homeless.
She ignored him, climbed halfway up the ladder, and touched the child’s shaking shoulder. “Hi, sweetheart.”
The little boy jerked away and slid down the slide. The man caught him at the bottom, and the boy struggled, crying, his little fists pounding, legs kicking.
Kayla pulled out her phone to report the possible child abduction, eyes on the pair, poised to interfere if the man tried to run with the child.
One of the kicks landed in a particularly vulnerable spot, and the man winced and adjusted the child to cradle him as if he were a baby. “Okay, okay,” he murmured in a deep-but-gentle voice, nothing like the sharp tone in which he’d addressed Kayla. He sat down on the end of the slide and pulled the child close, rocking a little.
The little boy stopped struggling and lay his head against the man’s broad chest. Apparently, he’d gained the child’s trust at least to some degree.
For the first time, Kayla wondered if she’d misread the situation. Was this just a scruffy dad? Was she maybe just being her usual awkward self with men?
He looked up at her then, speculation in his eyes.
Her face heated, but she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She was an education professional trying to help a child. “This is a private school, sir,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer, maybe because the little boy had startled at her voice and was crying again.
“Is he your son?”
Again, no answer as he stroked the child’s hair and whispered something into his ear.
“All right, I guess it’s time for the police to straighten this out.” She searched for the number, her fingers numb with the cold. It didn’t seem, now, like this merited a 911 call, but she’d leave that for the police to decide.
* * *
“WAIT. DON’T CALL THE POLICE.” Tony DeNunzio struggled to his feet, the weight of his tense nephew making him awkward. “Everything’s okay. I’m his guardian.” He didn’t owe this woman an explanation and it irritated him to have to give one, but he didn’t want Jax to get even more upset. The child hated cops, and with good reason.
“You’re his guardian?” The blonde, petite as she was, made him feel small as her eyes skimmed him up and down.
He glanced at his clothes and winced. Lifted a hand to his bristly chin and winced again.
He hadn’t shaved since they’d arrived in town two days ago, and he’d grabbed these clothes from the hamper. Not only because he was busy trying to get Jax settled, but because he couldn’t bring himself to care about laundry and shaving and most of the other tasks under the general heading of personal hygiene. A shower a day, and a bath for Jax, that was about all he could manage. His brother and sister—his surviving sister—had scolded him about it, back home.
He couldn’t explain all of that, didn’t need to. It wasn’t this shivering stranger’s business. “Jax is going to enroll here,” he said.
“Really?” Another wave of shivers hit her, making her teeth chatter. Tony didn’t know where she’d come from, but apparently her mission of mercy had compelled her to run outside without her coat.
He’d offer her his, but he had a feeling she’d turn up her nose.
“The school is closed today.”
Thank you, Miss Obvious. But he guessed their presence merited a little more explanation. “I’m trying to get him used to the place before he starts school tomorrow. He has trouble with...” He glanced down at Jax, who’d leaned his head against Tony’s chest, and a surge of love and frustration rose in him. “He has trouble with basically everything.”
The woman frowned disapprovingly and put a finger to her lips. That was annoying. Who was she, the parenting police?
“Do you have a reason to be here?” he asked, hearing the truculence in his own voice and not caring.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I work nearby,” she said. “Saw you here and got concerned, because the little guy seemed to be upset. He still seems to be.”
No denying that. Jax had tensed up as soon as they’d approached the preschool playground, probably because it was similar to places where he’d had other bad experiences. He rubbed circles on Jax’s back. “He’s been kicked out of preschool and daycare before,” he explained. “This is kind of my last resort.”
“You know he can hear you, right?”
He raised an eyebrow. Was she really going to go there, telling him how to raise his nephew?
Of course, probably almost anyone in the world would be better at it than he was.
“Did you let the school know the particulars of his situation?” She sat down on the end of the slide, her face concerned.
Uh-oh. She was one of those women who had nothing else to do but criticize how others handled their lives. She was cute, though. And it wasn’t as if he had much else to do, either. He’d completed all the Victory Cottage paperwork, and he couldn’t start dealing with the program’s other requirements until the business week started tomorrow.
Jax moved restlessly and looked up at him.
Tony gestured toward the play structure. “Go ahead and climb. We’ll go back to the cottage before long.” He didn’t know much about being a parent, but one thing he’d learned in the past three months was that tiring a kid out with outdoor play was a good idea.
Jax nodded and ran over to the playset. His tongue sticking out of one corner of his mouth, forehead wrinkled, he started to climb.
Tony watched him, marveling at how quickly his moods changed. Jax’s counselor said all kids were like that, although Jax was a little more extreme than most.
He looked back at the woman, who was watching him expectantly.
“What did you ask me?” Sometimes he worried about himself. It was hard to keep track of conversations, not that he had all that many of them lately. None, since they’d arrived in Pleasant Shores two days ago.
“I asked if you let the school know about his issues,” she said. “It might help them help him, if they know what they’re working with.”
“I didn’t tell them about the other schools,” he said. “I didn’t want to jinx this place, make them think he’s a bad kid, right from the get-go. He’s not.”
“I’m sure he isn’t,” she said. “He’s a real cutie. But still, you should be up front with his teachers and the principal and such.”
He started to tell her to mind her own business, but he was just too tired for a fight. “You’re probably right.” It was another area where he was failing Jax, he guessed. But he was doing the best he could. It wasn’t as if he’d had experience with any other kids than Jax. Even overseas, when the other soldiers had given out candy and made friends, he’d tended to terrify the little ones.
“Telling the school the whole story will only help him,” she said, still studying Jax, her forehead creased.
He frowned at her. “Why would you care?”
“The truth is,” she said, “I’m going to be his teacher.”
He felt his shoulders slump, wondering if he’d just ruined his nephew’s chances at this last-resort school.
Don’t miss the next book in The Off Season series
by Lee Tobin McClain!
Copyright © 2021 by Lee Tobin McClain
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’ve had so much help in creating Home to the Harbor. My agent Karen Solem, and everyone at Spencerhill Associates, provides wonderful support and cheerleading.
Shana Asaro, Susan Swinwood and the fabulous art department and sales team: your hard work is so very much appreciated. Thank you!
I’m grateful to the staff of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum and to Earl Swift, author of Chesapeake Requiem, for much of the information about boating, crabbing and oystering that appears in Home to the Harbor; they’re the reason for what I got right, but are in no way responsible for any mistakes. The patrons, waitstaff and cooks at Old Salty’s restaurant in Fishing Creek served up way too much delicious local food; if my descriptions make readers hungry, they are to blame!
When the creative life gets challenging, writer friends make all the difference. The Wednesday Morning Writers’ Group, my Seton Hill colleagues and students, Sandy, Dana and Rachel: you continue to inspire me.
I couldn’t write my books without the love and companionship of my closest people: Sue, Ron, Jessie, Bill and most of all, Grace. I love you all so much.
Finally, I want to thank my readers for buying and reading my books and for your kind notes, emails and reviews. I don’t take any of that for granted, and it’s to you that this book is dedicated.
Her Small Town Secret
by Brenda Minton
Chapter One
The door to room 204 in the Pleasant Residential Care center squeaked open. Avery Hammons glanced that way but didn’t greet the visitor. She finished taking the vitals of her patient, then gave the redhead at the door a questioning look.
“There’s an incredibly gorgeous cowboy waiting for you at the front lobby. He might be all hat and no cattle, but I’d take him if I wasn’t happily engaged.” Assistant to the administrator of Pleasant Residential Care, Laura Anderson, winked.
“Gorgeous cowboy type?” Avery asked after settling her patient’s arm back on her bed. She smiled down at the woman, hoping to reassure her. “Margie, your pulse is strong and your blood pressure is better than that of most twenty-year-olds. In another month you’ll be back to walking Dudley in the park.”
Home to the Harbor--A Novel Page 30
