by Donna Alward
He swallowed around the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. “Thank you.”
“And I just started painting again. So just so you know, giving me access to the lighthouse actually means a lot. There were times I thought I’d never feel that passion again, but here I am.” She spread her arms wide.
She didn’t say that he’d get there too. Didn’t give assurances that all he needed was time. Simply said that it meant a lot to her. He appreciated that more than she could know. He’d just about had it with the well-meaning but empty platitudes.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice rough.
There was a pause while he searched for the right way to say goodbye. She shifted her weight to her other hip and then smiled again. “Okay, so I’d better go. Have a good day, Branson.”
“You too. And thank you for the peace offering.” He attempted to smile back and saw her eyes widen. Wow. Did he really smile so rarely that it came as a complete surprise?
“Okay...bye, then.” She took a step backward, then gave a little wave before turning away from him and heading across the lawn toward the bluff and the red-and-white sentinel standing guard.
He shut the door, then went to his den. The broad expanse of windows gave him a perfect view, and he watched as she picked her way over rocks and bumps, her footsteps sure and light. She pulled out her camera and started snapping, and after a while put it away and pulled out a sketch pad. A half smile on his face, he shook his head as she picked a large rock for a seat, plopped herself on it and started to draw.
Then he sat down and opened his laptop. Stared at the screen for a few minutes, then opened his browser.
He wasn’t quite ready. But for the first time since losing Jennie and Owen, he felt that someday he might be.
* * *
Jess hadn’t planned to stay at the Sandpiper so long, and when Tori offered up her boathouse as an alternative place to stay, Jess snapped it up immediately. The building was adorable, with a warm and welcoming red door, tons of natural light, the coziest of galley kitchens and a single bedroom. The bunk beds inside had a small double on the bottom and a single on the top, so she put her clothes in the tiny dresser and made herself comfortable on the mattress with the cheery comforter sporting nautical designs in navy, red and white.
According to Tori, she and Jeremy had considered making it a vacation rental. But they were waiting to do that since Tori’s time was taken up with being a brand-new mom. Jess stared up at the bottom of the bunk above her and let out a happy sigh. She’d take this over a hotel room any day.
After a twenty-minute nap, she got up and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. While it was steeping, she looked around the tiny living room and examined the light sources. Sketching wasn’t a big deal. If she wanted to paint, she had different requirements for light and space. A few adjustments and she’d moved some of the furniture, pushing it closer to the wall. The wicker rocking chair found a new home on the sweet white-railed porch, and she wondered if Tori would be amenable to taking out the coffee table altogether. Then it would be just about right.
But she wasn’t ready to start painting yet. Today she’d started some preliminary sketches that she liked but wasn’t crazy over. Carrying her tea, sketch pad and pencils, she went to the porch and sat in the afternoon sun, sipping and contemplating. She turned the page over and started something different. Just the very edge of the lighthouse intruded on the right-hand side of the paper; and then, just to the left of center, she started moving her pencil, beginning an outline of a man, hands in his pockets, staring out to sea.
There was something captivating about him. She wanted to say that it wasn’t because of his celebrity, but now that she knew, it kind of was. She’d read one or two of his books...figured he’d released something like ten now, maybe a dozen. Mysteries and procedurals, where she couldn’t wait to turn another page and was afraid to at the same time. She admired a brain like that, so willing to wander into the darkness and face it unflinchingly, and with such detail. Now, having met him, and knowing he was grieving, she had another impression. In all his books, there was still a thread of hope through them. The bad guy always got what was coming to him. The main characters always came through with a happy ending.
He didn’t get his happy ending, though. She knew how that felt. Broken hearts, crushed dreams. Jess had never quite had the family she’d always wanted. And as she made sweep after sweep on her pad, she saw the outline of a broken man coming through.
She didn’t notice the time until the sun went behind the trees, dimming her light. She’d been working for hours, and she tilted her neck, working out a creak. With a sigh she picked up her phone and checked her messages. There was one from Tori, inviting her up for drinks later. She checked the time...inviting her for drinks in twenty minutes, to be exact. She’d worked throughout the late afternoon and what normally would have been dinner. She went inside, closing the red door behind her, and opened the fridge. She wasn’t about to have drinks on an empty stomach, so she took out a container of hummus and nibbled on some crackers and veggies. Her hair was tucked in a bun and held there with a pencil, but she didn’t really care. It was Tori and Jeremy, and they seemed like the most laid back people she’d ever met. On went her flat sandals, a quick smooth over her flowy skirt, and she was off along the gravel path to the main house.
Branson’s car was in the driveway and she hesitated, wondering if Tori had asked him to join them. They’d made peace yesterday, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for couples drinks and a social call where he was concerned. She nearly turned back when Tori’s voice called her name. She couldn’t turn around now and pretend she hadn’t heard. Her careless hair and slightly wrinkled skirt would have to do. And she could fake her way through small talk, couldn’t she?
“Hi!” she called out, skirting the house and heading to the backyard patio. Clearly this was where the action was in the Fisher house. She shivered; it was only May, and she hadn’t thought to bring a sweater.
“Hi yourself,” Tori offered. “I’m out here grabbing Rose’s blanket. I left it out earlier. Come on inside.”
Grateful to be going inside for the visit, Jess let out a breath and held the door as Tori went in, her arms full of baby and blanket. Jeremy was at the island pouring drinks. “Hey, Jess,” he said. “Glad you could come up.”
“Jess?”
She turned around abruptly. Bran was there, at the end of the hall, staring at her. Oh, Lord. He hadn’t known she was invited. Her face heated and then together they stared at Tori, whose eyebrows lifted in an expression of innocence.
“What? Jess is staying in our boathouse so she can paint. And you haven’t been over in a week. What’s the big deal?”
Bran leveled his gaze on her. “Because you set it up, Miss Innocent.”
Great. He had no desire to be there with her. And she wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she wouldn’t have put it precisely that way. Then again, her initial encounters with Branson had demonstrated his usual manner was blunt.
Jess stared at both of them, then over at Jeremy, who cracked open a can of tonic water. “Don’t look at me,” he said, pouring the fizzy liquid into a glass.
Tori kept the innocent look on her face. “What? You guys can be civil, right? Lord, it’s not like I set you up on a blind date or something.”
Except it felt like it. Jeremy pressed a glass of merlot into her hands with a murmur of, “Humor her.” The glass of tonic and lime went to Tori. “Bran?” he asked. “What are you having?”
“That tonic will be fine. I’m driving, after all.”
Huh. That was surprising. She admired his zero tolerance attitude. “I’m lucky I just have to walk down the path,” she said, trying to lighten the awkward atmosphere. “The boathouse is perfect, Tori. I was wondering though if there’s somewhere I could put the coffee table? The living room is perfect f
or me to work.”
“Of course!” Tori sat on the sofa and Jess sat beside her, and they immediately started chatting about the boathouse, the decorations and Jess’s future plans for it. It was a good distraction from glancing at Bran the whole time, who was still looking rather hermit-like, but with a pressed shirt and his hair tucked behind his ears. The first time they’d met, she’d thought him to be in his forties, but now she thought it was probably younger. Midthirties, maybe. She tried to imagine him with a man bun and nearly laughed out loud. That wasn’t for Bran.
He was too... She frowned. Too much was all she could seem to come up with. Jeremy said something and Bran chuckled, a low, rough vibration that reached in and ignited something in her belly. Oh, no. This was not a good thing. He was far easier to dismiss as a grouchy old ogre. She didn’t actually want to like him. Or feel the stirrings of, if not attraction, curiosity. She was after his lighthouse. Nothing more. Even if she had started to sketch him earlier today.
Jeremy got up and refilled her wineglass and she settled back down into the sofa, relaxing more. She had friends, of course she did. But over the last few days she had thought back to those relationships. Some were lifers. Some had been relationships of utility, for a time only and then moving on or drifting apart. Some had been intense and brief, leaving her an empty vessel at the end. She listened to Jeremy and Branson and heard that rusty laugh again... They had been friends since they were boys. Jeremy drew her and Tori into the conversation with tales from Merrick Hall, the prep school he and Bran had attended together. Before long they were laughing, and Jessica was wondering about the third best friend, Cole, who sounded like the instigator of the bunch. How wonderful it must be to have friends like that. Like she’d been with Ana. There were times she just missed her so much.
She was just lifting her glass to take a sip when Bran’s gaze reached over and held hers. Unlike their other meetings, this time his eyes were warm and hypnotizing, his lips holding the tiniest bit of humor, slightly hidden by his beard. Her body responded; there was something untamed about him that drew her in. Which sounded silly, of course. He was anything but uncivilized. Perhaps it was just his restless energy. Whatever it was, she couldn’t look away.
Tori appeared with some crudités and crackers, and Jess averted her eyes and instead focused on fixing a cracker with soft cheese and red pepper jelly. It was delicious, and since she’d missed having a real meal at dinnertime, a welcome addition to her stomach after two glasses of wine. When baby Rose woke and needed attending, Jess felt it was time to make her excuses and head home. Tori would be wanting to settle the baby and get some rest.
Bran seemed to agree, because he stood and collected glasses from the coffee table. “Thanks for having me over,” he said, taking them to the kitchen.
“It’s good for the hermit to come out of his cave once in a while.”
Jess couldn’t help it. She snorted as she carried dirty plates to the sink. Tori grinned and Jeremy gave Bran a slap on the back.
“Hey, I get out.” Bran aimed a sharp look at Jess, a teasing glint in his eye. “I mean two days ago is a prime example.”
“Branson,” she said firmly, wishing he wouldn’t tell this story. But Tori and Jeremy were staring at them both, and Branson smiled. She really wished he wouldn’t do that. His smile was devastating.
“What happened?” Jeremy took the bait.
Jess attempted a preemptive strike. “Branson gave me a lift to the resort from the boat rental place, that’s all.” She pinned Bran with a “please don’t do it” glare.
“What were you doing at the boat rental place?”
“I’d rented a boat.”
“But what was Bran doing there?”
He lifted his eyebrows and grinned again. “Come on, Jessica. It’s a good story.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Hey, you laughed at the story about my underwear earlier. Fair’s fair.”
He was right. She’d giggled at the antics of the boys at boarding school, while sympathizing with the children they’d been, finding love and acceptance among strangers rather than at home. She was going to say he’d been thirteen at the time, but she also knew Tori was not going to let them leave without him spilling the beans. She sighed and capitulated. “Fine.”
She shouldn’t have worried. It became crystal clear that Bran was a born storyteller. Tori rocked Rose in her arms and Jeremy stopped putting dishes in the dishwasher as Bran told the tale with suspense in all the right spots, a dash of humor here and there, and without making her sound utterly stupid. Even she was caught up in it, and she was the subject! He finished with, “So I gave her the car and I took the boat back to Cummins’s, and then dropped her off at the resort.”
Tori shook her head. “What an adventure!”
Jess folded her hands. “Well, all’s well that ends well. Rather than see me risk my own neck again, Branson let me take some pictures of the lighthouse, so I don’t anticipate any new nautical mishaps for a good long while.”
“You brought me food. What was I going to say?”
She laughed. “You could have kicked me off your property like you did the first day. Or ignore me altogether.”
“Ignoring you would only have made you do something crazier.”
She suddenly realized that Jeremy and Tori were watching them with amused expressions. “And on that note, I think it’s time I headed to the boathouse. Thank you both for inviting me up.”
“Don’t be silly. We’re friends now. You can stay in the boathouse as long as you need. You can be our vacation rental trial run. And the door is always open. It’s nice having you around.”
“I’d better head out too,” Bran said. “New parents need their sleep.”
He said it easily, but Jess caught a glimpse of something on his face, a tension around his mouth that hadn’t been there before. He and Jeremy were best friends. It had to be a painful reminder to see his friend happily married with a new baby, when Bran had had those things and lost them.
“I’ll be in touch about the property for Cole,” Jeremy said, oblivious to Bran’s expression. “You can help me with that if you like. Something new just came on the market that might be perfect.”
“Sounds good,” Bran said.
He followed Jess to the front door, and they waved goodbye to their hosts. She expected him to head to his car while she took the path to the boathouse, but he fell into step beside her.
“What are you doing?”
“Walking you home.”
She sighed. “It’s not necessary. I’m not in danger of capsizing on my way to the boathouse.”
“No, but you also didn’t turn a light on.”
Darn, he was right. The boathouse loomed in the darkness, and she could make out the form of the porch, but she hadn’t turned on the outside light.
“The light attracts bugs,” she explained.
He chuckled. She wished he would stop doing that. It made her insides all warm and tingly.
Their feet made soft crunching noises on the graveled path. Jess could hear the sound of the ocean shushing against the sand, and somewhere nearby, in a tall tree, an owl hooted. She sighed, loving the solitude and peace of this place. “That’s a great horned owl,” she said softly. “Who cooks for you?”
“What?”
“Listen to his call. Who cooks for you?”
The owl hooted again, and Bran murmured, “Well, I’ll be damned.”
She smiled in the darkness. It took only another few moments and they were at the porch of the boathouse. “I didn’t lock the door,” she said, “so I don’t need to see the lock. Thank you for walking me, though.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Branson?”
It sounded odd, using his first name, but after yesterday’s rescue, it hardly seemed necessary to call him Mr. Blac
k.
“Yes?”
His voice was husky in the dark. She held in a sigh.
“You are a wonderful storyteller. I was so afraid you were going to throw me under the bus in there. But you didn’t. You made it sound like some great adventure. Even I was waiting to hear what happened next, and I was there.”
“Thanks.”
She put her hand on his arm. It was firm and warm beneath her fingers. “What I’m trying to say is...don’t give up.”
Silence fell between them for a few moments, and Jess found herself looking into his dark gaze. The shadows only lent to the intimacy of the moment, and briefly she wondered if he were going to kiss her.
But then the moment seemed to pass, and she took her hand off his arm. She’d said enough, and hopefully had given him something to think about. “Good night,” she whispered, then went inside and shut the door.
CHAPTER FOUR
FOR THREE DAYS Branson watched as Jessica sketched at the lighthouse. After the first day, he left the gate open so she wouldn’t have to walk so far. He’d spent his time doing some research. Not for a book, but on the lighthouse he now owned. He wanted to know more about the history of it, and so he’d dug into Google, visited the local library and accessed the provincial archives. The lighthouse was over a century old, made defunct after World War II, and most importantly, he’d found a book from the seventies with ghost stories and local lore at the library that he found most intriguing. His lighthouse had a history, with enough mystery to have his mind turning a plot over and over in his mind.
“You are a wonderful storyteller,” she’d said. The compliment had taken him by surprise. He wasn’t even sure why he’d felt compelled to recount the incident at all; maybe to prove to Jeremy that he wasn’t the hermit everyone said he was. Maybe because he’d missed it. Or maybe just because he’d enjoyed the evening so much, and seeing the gleam in Jessica’s eyes.
