Home to the Harbor--A Novel

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Home to the Harbor--A Novel Page 31

by Lee Tobin McClain


  Margie Duncan drooped a little, her mouth pulling down in a slight frown. That look had become one of her few signs of discontentment. She’d been a model patient in the four weeks she’d been at the facility, recovering from a fractured hip. “I’m so sorry for making a fuss. I just felt a little funny when I got up a bit ago. You’re probably right about being anxious. And I can’t wait to get home to that silly dog.”

  The same silly dog who had wrapped a leash around Margie and tripped her as she went down the front steps of her house a month ago. Avery smiled past the worry she felt for her patient. As a supervising RN, worry was a big part of her job.

  “You don’t have to apologize, Margie. That’s what I’m here for. Also, you could have your daughter bring Dudley in for a visit. I won’t tell.”

  “Could I really?” Margie’s face lit up at the mention of her poodle.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  From the door, Laura cleared her throat. “About the visitor...”

  The last thing Avery wanted was a visitor. Especially a male visitor. The only man she could think of was Tucker Church. They’d been on a few dates, nothing serious. She doubted he would visit her at work, especially since she’d made it clear they were just friends and would remain friends. Avery doubted she would ever be at a place in her life where she let someone be more than a friend. It seemed trite to say but she was content with her life as it was. She had a job she loved, people in her life whom she loved and she was building the home she’d always dreamed of. Why complicate things?

  Fortunately, Tucker, as a friend, knew her and her past. He knew her heartaches and her secrets. That made it easy to explain to him why she wasn’t keen on new relationships.

  “You’d best get out there to your visitor,” Margie encouraged.

  Avery winked at the older woman. “Guess I have to go see who this amazing visitor is and what they need with me. What does it mean, all hat and no cattle?”

  Margie laughed at that. “That means he looks like he might be a cowboy but he’s probably never seen a cow in his life. I bet he has a pair of shiny boots that ain’t ever kicked up the dirt, and a hat that sits on top of his head like a city feller.”

  “Gotcha.” She turned to Laura. “Do we know why our cattle-less visitor is here?”

  Laura smirked a bit. “Community service. He said the law grabbed him on his way into town and gave him an ultimatum. Jail or community service that he failed to serve eleven years ago.”

  “Eleven years ago?”

  “Yeah, I guess they aren’t aware of the statute of limitations. Nevertheless, he said he’s here to work off his service and Mr. Davis told him to see you, that you would oversee his time. Forty hours, just ten hours a week.”

  “Wonderful, just what I need. I don’t have time to babysit a city feller who broke the law nearly a dozen years ago.”

  “Avery Hammons, please come to the front desk. Avery, please come to the front desk.” A male voice, not one of their staff, called over the intercom.

  “Who was that?” Avery asked, leaving Margie’s room, Laura hot on her heels.

  “My guess is that would be our man, Mr. All Hat. Can we keep him? Please tell me we can keep him.” Laura practically gushed and she wasn’t typically the gushing type.

  Avery hurried down the hall of the west wing of the facility, turning a corner and then stopping so quickly, Laura nearly ran into her. “Oh no!”

  The cowboy leaned against the counter, the intercom phone in his hand. One corner of his mouth hitched up as he nudged his hat back a smidge. “Honey, I’m home.”

  No, no, no. Avery stood there in the center of the hall, caught in a nightmare in which Grayson Stone was the star. He was the one person who could—and would—shake up her life and ruin everything. It was what he’d always done. What he did best. He knew how to make her feel beautiful and worthless, all at the same time.

  She shook her head, wanting, needing to wake up and have him gone. She closed her eyes, said a quick prayer and opened her eyes slowly.

  “I’m still here,” he drawled with a slight chuckle as he set the phone on the desk and straightened.

  Yes, he was still there. All six feet, lean athletic build of him. He grinned, as if this was all a big joke and he wasn’t pushing her life off its foundation. Life had always been a joke to Grayson. The spoiled son of a judge and a pediatrician, he’d always been given everything he ever wanted or needed. He was her exact opposite. She’d been serious, studious, determined to change her future. She had wanted to prove that a kid from Dillon’s Trailer Park could become something, someone.

  Grayson was her kryptonite.

  Eleven years. Had he thought of her even once in all that time? Going by the lack of phone calls, return visits to Pleasant, or even a card, she guessed he hadn’t given her a single, solitary thought. He hadn’t thought about Pleasant, about her, about that summer.

  She had thought about him. Every. Single. Day. And not always pleasant thoughts.

  Since her return to town six months ago, she had been working on her relationship with God, seeking a closer walk. But this made her question everything. Why now? Why did Grayson have to show up here just when she finally had her life on track? She had a plan. She had a path forward.

  “Ah, now, come on, Avery, that isn’t the greeting I expected from you.”

  She stared at him, unable to speak. Grayson Stone always managed to jerk the rug out from under her. He had a way of turning her inside out. He’d been doing it for as long as she could remember. Probably since kindergarten, when he’d given her a daisy and then tossed a spider on her as she bent her head to smell the flower.

  “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” he asked. He wore his customary grin, one he probably practiced in the mirror.

  Mad was an understatement. He’d left town without warning, without a goodbye. He’d made promises, then left her sitting at Tilly’s Diner, waiting for him to show up.

  She studied him, looking for a hint of insecurity. Anything to tell her he might be a little unsure, a little bit sorry. Was there a hint of regret in his brown eyes? Had she seen a flash of something, maybe remorse, on his face just before he pasted on that too-flashy smile?

  If he could pretend the past didn’t matter, so could she. It might not be easy, but she could do it.

  “Why would I be mad at you, Grayson?” she said, like it was all water under the bridge.

  “Oh, no reason I can think of, darlin’.” He grinned and winked, not at her but at Laura, who stood nearby.

  “Why are you here?” Avery asked. Her heart faltered at the one answer that made sense.

  But he couldn’t know. She told herself to breathe deep and stay calm.

  He pushed away from the desk and she was reminded why he’d always been able to take her breath away. Because he was tall and powerful but he didn’t steal the room. He moved with an athletic grace. His dark brown auburn hair, combined with suntanned skin and coffee-brown eyes that took on a hint of the forest with flecks of green and gold, were a lethal combination.

  Her gaze dropped to his fancy polished leather boots. A giggle worked its way up. Mr. All Hat and No Cattle.

  “Do you have an office?” he asked in a voice that no longer teased.

  “Yes.” She pointed down the hall. “Second door on the right.”

  He led the way. She drew in a breath and followed, ignoring the questioning looks of her coworkers.

  Grayson Stone was home. Avery should have known this day would come like a thief in the night, taking her by surprise, upending everything she’d been trying to do right with her life.

  She just didn’t think it would come so soon.

  * * *

  Grayson followed Avery into her office. The sign on the door read Supervising RN. The room was barely big enough for the desk, bookcase and utilita
rian gray filing cabinet. His attention shifted back to the woman he sure hadn’t thought to see again. Ever. He especially hadn’t expected to see her here, today. Her green eyes had shot daggers at him when she’d come around the corner of the hallway and spotted him.

  He smiled, thinking about that look she’d given him. With her long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing teddy bear scrubs, she had certainly looked all sweet and nurse-like. But the look she’d given him had carried a pretty specific message, and it had been anything but sweet.

  He shouldn’t have expected anything more from her. They’d been frenemies for a long time.

  Since kindergarten. He cringed at the memory of tossing a spider in her pale blond hair. Yeah, that hadn’t been his best move.

  Maybe if he apologized and told her he’d changed, she might forgive him. For the spider, for high school, for the way he’d left town years ago. He’d done a lot of people wrong, including Avery. But the decision to leave Pleasant had been made for him.

  In the tiny office she slid past him, a soft shoulder nudging his, the scent of clean soap and lavender shampoo wafting in the air between them. She didn’t appear to be in a forgiving mood. Sliding out her chair, she pushed a framed photo out of his line of sight and switched into professional mode, suddenly acting as if they didn’t share a past.

  He took the chair shoved in the corner of her office. His attention strayed to a plant on her desk. Its leaves were wilted and begging for water.

  She sat across from him. “Why?”

  He shifted his attention back to Avery. He somehow summoned up a smile even though he felt like a fifteen-year-old version of himself, sitting in the principal’s office waiting for his dad to come pick him up.

  “There are a lot of answers to that question. Where do you want me to start?” he asked without smiling, since she didn’t appear to be in the mood for humor.

  “Why are you at my place of employment? We can start with that.”

  “I might have run my car over the flower beds and brick sign before I left town.”

  “Who does that?”

  He raised his hand. “That would be me. My last night in Pleasant might not have been my best. I left a trail of destruction all the way to Springfield where they finally caught me and threw me in jail. I went before a judge who decided I needed to pay for my crimes and to have a change of scenery.”

  Change of scenery. That left out a lot of details, but what was he supposed to say to her? Should he start with an introduction, the way he had in countless meetings over the past eleven years? Perhaps show her the coin he carried in his pocket, the one he sometimes had to reach for, to remind himself that it felt good to be clean.

  “I didn’t know,” she said, the words not meaning all that much. Of course she hadn’t known.

  “My dad was pretty good at keeping family secrets.” Grayson shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.

  “What was the change of scenery?” she asked.

  “They sent me to California where I eventually went to work for my uncle’s contracting business.”

  “I hope he made you work until you had blisters on your hands.”

  He held up calloused hands. “See for yourself. I’ve spent the past eleven years working hard and learning a lot of life lessons, compliments of my uncle Edward.”

  “And now you’re home?”

  “For a couple of months. I’m here to help get my dad resettled on the farm. He’s been in rehab in Springfield since his stroke in January. They sent him home at the beginning of May and I got here as quickly as I could.”

  “I wondered where he’d gone after selling the house in town.”

  “Springfield. He and my mother moved to Springfield. After she passed away, he moved into a retirement community. But now, because he’s sixty-five and had a pretty serious stroke, he wants to be here, in the town he considered his home for most of his life. Since they sold our house in town, he’s moving to his old family farm.”

  She shuffled papers on her desk, ignoring him. That gave him a moment to study her, to study the cubbyhole she called her office, and to wonder about the photograph she clearly didn’t want him to see.

  “What am I supposed to do with you?” she finally asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ll be here five hours a day, two days a week for the next month.”

  “I’d rather you not be here at all. Why don’t we call it good and you leave?”

  “You want me gone?” He winked as he said it.

  “California, you said? I’m sure it’s nice there in the spring.”

  “Yes, central coast. Perfect weather every day. Unfortunately, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll leave in July at the earliest. And thanks to you, I’m more determined than ever to repay my debt to society,” he said with a grin, then winked at her, enjoying the way a flush of pink crept into her cheeks.

  He couldn’t remember a time that he hadn’t loved that blush of hers. Even as a kid he’d been smitten by the flush of pink that had swept through her cheeks at the slightest hint of bashfulness.

  This new adult version of Avery was a bit more confident than when Grayson knew her, and seemed to compose herself in a matter of seconds. “Fine, I’m sure we can find something for you to do around here. You can report in the morning...”

  “Mornings won’t work. I’m at the old homestead and there are livestock to feed.” He used the term livestock loosely. She didn’t need the whole truth. “I also have to make sure my dad eats breakfast before I head out.”

  “Could you at least be here by ten?” she asked.

  “I can be here at ten.”

  She nodded and walked out of the office, leaving him to follow behind. He stood, giving the room one last look, trying to learn something about the woman she’d become. The wilted plant, a bookcase of medical books, a metal filing cabinet circa 1980, didn’t tell him much. He wondered if she’d ever married. He hadn’t looked at her ring finger.

  He reached for the photo she’d pushed aside when she’d sat down at her desk.

  “Put that down. You have no business going through my personal belongings.” She stood in the doorway, her face pale, her brilliant green eyes a stark contrast.

  Moving quickly, she grabbed the framed picture before he could even touch it.

  “What are you hiding, Avery?”

  “I’m not hiding anything,” she said with a tremor.

  His gaze dropped to her hands, still clutching the photograph. No rings. Maybe she’d been widowed? Divorced? If he’d kept in contact with old friends, maybe he’d know more about her life.

  The frozen expression on her face told him she wouldn’t give him any answers, not today. And he didn’t deserve any. He didn’t deserve secrets or confidences, either.

  As a kid he’d been entitled and spoiled, never understanding the differences in their lives. She’d been a pretty loner in hand-me-down clothes who had spent her time studying. That last summer in Pleasant, he’d come home from his first year of college and he’d taken a good look at his childhood nemesis and he’d seen her, really seen her.

  Even then she’d been too good for him. She was too smart, too studious and too kind. He would have broken her heart. Looking back, he realized he probably had broken her heart. He’d sure broken her trust.

  “Stop thinking about the past,” she told him as she moved away from her desk and pointed to the door.

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “You always have been,” she said simply. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He walked away, more unsure of himself than he’d ever been in his life. As he turned the corner, he glanced back in time to see her smile soften slightly as she glanced at the photo she held in her hands. A photo that, a moment later, she slid behind a framed certificate on top of her bookcase.

  Okay, she had her secrets and
he had his. They were even. The thought should have kept him from wondering. He should have been able to walk out the door of the center into the warmth of late spring, believing what he’d told himself—that her story didn’t matter.

  Except it did matter. A lot. He didn’t fully understand why, but he needed to know her secrets. He needed to know what she was hiding from him.

  Copyright © 2021 by Brenda Minton

  ISBN-13: 9780369703569

  Home to the Harbor

  Copyright © 2021 by Lee Tobin McClain

  Second Chance on the Chesapeake

  Copyright © 2021 by Lee Tobin McClain

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  For questions and comments about the quality of this book,

  please contact us at [email protected].

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