Angels Landing

by Rochelle Alers

  “No. I was bringing something to your classroom when I heard you talking with Miss Dean. That’s all I heard before I waited at the end of the hall for her to leave.”

  “You couldn’t have been more than six.”

  “I was seven, Gram.”

  Corrine removed her hands from her apron, clasping them in front of her. “And you waited all this time to tell me this, Jeffrey?”

  Jeff took a sip of the warm brew, staring at his grandmother over the rim of the mug. Corrine Jefferson Hamilton’s life was measured in numbers. She’d graduated high school at fifteen, married her high school sweetheart at eighteen, graduated college at nineteen, gave birth to her only child at twenty, became a grandmother at thirty-eight, and was widowed at forty. A former teacher and elementary school principal, she was the only one on Cavanaugh Island who called him Jeffrey. To everyone else he was Jeff, Sheriff Hamilton, or Corrine Hamilton’s grandbaby boy.

  “I didn’t say anything because at that time I’d felt as if I was in the way and also a burden on you.”

  “What do you mean by ‘in the way’?”

  “There was talk, Gram. Folks used to say it was a shame that you’d raised a child and then you had to turn around and raise your grandchild when you had the chance to remarry after Grandpapa died. Some said I was standing in the way of your happiness, while others—most of them—praised you for your selflessness. It wasn’t until I was older when I realized that if you’d wanted to remarry, then you would have.”

  Corrine walked to the table in the corner of the eat-in kitchen and sat down. She traced the design of the hand-stitched embroidery with her fingertips. “I did what I had to do, Jeffrey. Your mother died giving birth to you, and there was no way I was going to let you go to some foster home or let some strangers adopt you. Not when I still had breath in my body. I didn’t marry Mr. Hawkins because I found out later that he was as mean as a junkyard dog whenever he drank. Your gramps never raised his hand or his voice to me, and I wasn’t about to involve you in a situation where that may happen. Even if I would’ve put up with it, I know you never would once you got older.”

  Jeff sat opposite Corrine. Placing his hand over hers, he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “No one will ever hurt you, Gram. Not while I have breath in my body.”

  Eyelids fluttering, Corrine blinked back tears. “Drink your coffee, and take care of the lawn. I’ll have breakfast ready for you when you’re finished.”

  Leaning over, he kissed her cheek. “I’m going to pass on breakfast this morning because I’m meeting somebody for lunch.”

  “Who is she? It is a she, isn’t it?”

  He smiled. “Of course, it’s a she.”

  “Who, Jeffrey? Do I know her?”

  “No, you don’t know her, but there’s no doubt you’ll hear about her before the sun goes down.”

  Reversing their hands, it was Corrine’s turn to squeeze her grandson’s fingers. “I guess I can wait for the rumor mill to start working overtime.”

  Kara had just come out of the bathroom when she heard soft knocking on the bedroom door. “Good morning, Mr. Todd.”

  The groundskeeper stood in the hallway outside her bedroom. He was the complete opposite of his wife in looks and personality. Tall, light-skinned with a face covered with freckles, and his once reddish hair now liberally sprinkled with gray, he spent most of his day landscaping the many acres that made up Angels Landing, sitting on the riding mower and pruning trees.

  Mr. Todd crushed a battered straw hat between his large hands. “The sheriff is here to see you, Miss Kara.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. Please call me Kara,” she reminded him. The man was old enough to be her grandfather, yet he’d insisted on calling her Miss Kara.

  Mr. Todd’s solemn expression didn’t change. “As I said, the sheriff is downstairs.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Todd.”

  A hint of a smile tilted the corners of his full lips. “And you can call me Willie.”

  Kara plucked the navy-blue pashmina shawl off the back of the armchair, looping it around her neck, then picked up her handbag. “I can’t do that, Mr. Willie.” If Mr. Todd had spent his life in the South, then he knew children were taught to address older people by miss or mister, regardless of first or surnames.

  He stepped aside. “You should leave now. The sheriff isn’t a very patient man.”

  Kara glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. It was 11:45, fifteen minutes earlier than when Jeff had promised to pick her up. “Please let him know I’m coming down.” She waited until Mr. Todd left, then followed him, he taking the back staircase and she taking the one that led to the front of the house.

  Her pace slowed as she stepped off the last stair. Jeff stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the paintings of former owners of the house that had given the town its name. He looked a little sinister dressed in black: slacks, sweater, and jacket. Facets of light from the massive chandelier shimmered on his smooth jaw and dark brown skin. There was something about Jeff that was so masculine, virile that she found swallowing and breathing difficult.

  “Good morning.” Jeff turned at the sound of her voice. He stared at her as if she were an apparition. “Is there something wrong?” Kara asked.

  Jeff blinked, his gaze moving slowly from her face to her feet. Kara appeared quite the chic, urban sophisticate. “No, Kara. Everything is fine.” He closed the distance between them while extending his hands. Kara placed her hands on his outstretched palms, he leaning down to kiss her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

  Kara glanced down at the navy-blue wool gabardine pantsuit and matching patent leather pumps with a sturdy four-inch heel. “Thank you.” Her head popped up. “I hope I’m not too overdressed for lunch at Jack’s.”

  Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, Jeff gave her a reassuring smile. “No. If anything, you’ll bring a little class to the joint.”

  She pulled back, but he tightened his grip on her much smaller hand. “I’ll go up and change into something less businesslike.”

  “Please don’t. Our lunch will be a combination of business and pleasure.”

  Jeff didn’t want to tell Kara she was like a breath of fresh air. The ponytail was missing, and in its place was a sleek hairdo, parted off center to frame her face, the blunt-cut ends falling inches above her shoulders. A light cover of makeup accentuated her best features: her eyes and lips. His gaze lingered on the curve of her mouth outlined in a soft orange-brown shade.

  “Pleasure?”

  “The food at Jack’s is pleasure personified. You don’t believe me, do you?” he asked when she gave him a skeptical look. “I know you have good restaurants in New York, but they can’t compare to Jack’s.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Okay, Big Apple skeptic, let’s go find out.” Jeff led Kara out of the house and to his parked car. He released her hand, seating her in the low-slung, silver two seater.

  “Nice, sexy little car,” she crooned.

  He hadn’t thought of the Miata as sexy but practical for his lifestyle. In essence, it was a bachelor’s car. His grandmother had accused him of being selfish when he’d first purchased the two seater, but after he’d taken her into Charleston for a test-drive, she changed her mind. The only thing Corrine complained about was that it was too low to the ground and she much preferred her four-door Camry. Jeff wasn’t certain how much longer she would continue to drive, leaving that decision up to her doctors. What he wanted was for his grandmother to remain independent for as long as possible.

  “Thank you,” Jeff said to Kara as he slid in behind the wheel.

  “It smells new.”

  The engine of the Mazda MX-5 Miata roared to life when he pushed the Start Engine button. “It is. I picked it up from the dealer a couple of months ago. My last car was eighteen years old, and I used to work on it whenever I came home on leave, but then after a while, I was unable to replace the parts, so I sold it for scrap.”

&nbs
p; “Did you give it a proper farewell?”

  Throwing back his head, Jeff laughed, the rich sound bouncing off the roof inside the small vehicle. “To be honest, I couldn’t look when the tow truck driver hooked it up and drove away.”

  There was a comfortable silence as he continued in an easterly direction toward the Cove, Jeff more than aware of the woman sitting less than a foot away. Everything about her screamed big-city sophisticate: coiffed hair, pantsuit, shoes, and the pearl studs in her ears. He’d told a little lie when he said she wasn’t overdressed because it’d been awhile since he’d gone out with a woman like Kara. It wasn’t that the women on the island didn’t dress up, but those who were stay-at-home mothers or shopkeepers tended to be more casual.

  “How large is Cavanaugh Island?” Kara asked, breaking into his musings.

  “The entire island is about eight square miles.”

  “If it’s that small, then why is it divided into towns?”

  Jeff met her eyes for a second. Sunlight coming through the windshield had turned them into large pools of green and gold. “There were rumors that Thomas Cavanaugh, whom many suspected was a pirate, used the island as his home base. He and his band of men would lay in wait in the marshes and fire on merchant ships moored off the coast. Although British authorities could never prove he was responsible for the dastardly acts, they forced him to give up his claim to the island when he was impressed into their navy. Others came seeking their fortune in what had been the American colonies, and they were awarded land grants for their service to the king.”

  “Why is the house called Angels Landing when the town is also called Angels Landing?”

  Jeff shifted into a lower gear as he approached the newly built road connecting Angels Landing with Sanctuary Cove. “Now that’s a long story.”

  “Remember, Jeff, I’m not leaving tomorrow.”

  He laughed again. “It definitely won’t take a week to tell, but I want to warn you that it has everything to do with your people.”

  She went completely still. “When you say my people, are you talking about the Pattons?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it something I don’t need to know?”

  A beat passed. “There’s an old Gullah saying that ‘you can’t know where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve come from.’ ”

  “Are you saying I’m Gullah?”

  “If you’re Taylor Patton’s daughter, then yes, you are Gullah.”

  Kara closed her eyes. “I still don’t want to believe the man I thought to be my father for all these years isn’t.”

  “That happens to a lot of us.”

  She opened her eyes. “Us?”

  “I never knew my father,” Jeff stated in a strained tone. “I wouldn’t know him if I met him on the street. But it’s different with you because you don’t have to share DNA with a man for him to assume the role as dad.”

  “The man I call Daddy is awesome.”

  “That’s all that counts, Kara.”

  He maneuvered into the parking lot at Jack’s Fish House, pulling into the last space. The lot was filled with pickup trucks belonging to the fishermen who came to the restaurant for the luncheon specials. There were also out-of-state license plates belonging to snowbirds that came down to spend the winter on the island.

  “Is the lot always this crowded?” Kara asked.

  Jeff realized Kara had asked a lot of questions because she was trying to sort things out for herself. Some he could answer, and others she would have to uncover on her own. He’d grown up not knowing his mother or father, yet he’d never felt disconnected. He didn’t remember his grandfather, but the stories Corrine told him about her beloved husband and photographs she’d saved of him made Malachi Hamilton come alive in Jeff’s imagination.

  “Most of the time. By twelve thirty nearly all of the fishermen on the island come for lunch, then around five or six it’s the dinner crowd.”

  Kara gave Jeff a tender smile. “Well, Gullah man, you promised me a wonderful lunch, so let’s go.”

  Jeff opened his door, planting one spit-shined, booted foot on the ground, then turned and smiled at Kara over his shoulder. “It appears as if I’m not the only Gullah here.”

  She ran an imaginary line down the middle of her body. “Only half.”

  His smile grew wider. “One drop of Gullah blood makes you Gullah.”

  Waiting until he came around to assist her, Kara tilted her chin. Jeff’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “Do you speak Gullah?”

  He shook his head. “But I do understand it.”

  “I was hoping you’d give me a crash course. Sometimes Mrs. Todd will lapse into dialect, and it takes a while before I realize what she’s saying.”

  “My grandmother could teach you, but a week isn’t long enough for you to pick up even the simplest phrases.”

  Kara wrapped her arms around her body to ward off a gust of cold wind coming off the ocean. “I’m staying more than a week.”

  Jeff stared wordlessly as if he couldn’t believe what she’d said. He replayed her statement over and over in his head. “You’re staying longer than a week?” She nodded. At that instant he didn’t know whether to shout like a crazy man or kiss Kara. Twenty-four hours ago he hadn’t known she existed. But now it was different. David had told him she wasn’t married, yet that still didn’t mean she wasn’t committed to someone back in New York.

  He didn’t know what it was that drew him to Kara other than she was different than any of the women on the island. She was a transplanted Southern girl who wasn’t reticent when she’d accused him of interrogating her, yet underneath the feigned tough-girl exterior, she was a vulnerable woman whose very existence had proven to be a lie.

  Their eyes met, and he smiled. “I’ll introduce you to my grandmother. She was a teacher for forty-five years, and I know she’d like nothing else better than having you as her student.”

  Kara’s expression changed. It stilled, becoming serious. “I can’t impose on her like that.”

  Wrapping an arm around her waist, Jeff led her out of the parking lot toward the restaurant. “I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I thought it was an imposition. If it will make you feel more comfortable, you can ask her yourself.”

  Opening the door, he held it for Kara, watching her reaction as she walked inside the restaurant where the cuisine had become legendary throughout the Lowcountry. Tantalizing and mouthwatering aromas filled the air as the waitstaff pushed their way into and out of the kitchen’s swinging door, trays laden with dishes piled high with lunch orders.

  Kara’s eyes were as large as silver dollars. “Oh my…” Her words trailed off when a waitress placed platters of fried chicken, catfish, biscuits, red rice and sausage, collards and chitlins on the table of six diners who’d tucked napkins under their chins.

  “Did I not tell you?” Jeff whispered in her ear when she leaned back against his chest.

  “If that’s lunch, then what are they going to eat for dinner?” she asked softly under her breath.

  “I don’t know.”

  The waitress beckoned to them. “Jeff, there’s a table for two near the side door. If you don’t want to sit there, then you can wait for an empty one.”

  Jeff lowered his head, pressing his mouth to Kara’s ear. “Do you want to wait?”

  “No!”

  Her reply was so emphatic that he was hard-pressed not to laugh. Resting a hand at the small of her back, Jeff directed her to the table. As if on cue, the entire restaurant fell silent, all eyes directed at them. He knew most of the locals were either curious or shocked to see him bringing a woman into Jack’s. In fact, they hadn’t seen him with a woman since he’d returned to the Cove to live. Whenever he ate at the restaurant, it was usually alone, with his deputies, or his grandmother.

  “Damn, Jeff! She’s hotter than a bushel of peppers!” boomed a male voice.

  Jeff never broke stride. “Watch your mouth, Bossier. And you will respect the lad
y, or I’ll lock you up for disturbing the peace!”

  A few guffaws and titters followed his warning. Those who didn’t laugh knew he never issued idle threats. Jeff seated Kara, then came around the scarred oak table hewn from massive tree trunks. “What’s the matter?” he asked when she looked at him, a strange expression on her face.

  “Does this usually happen whenever you bring a woman here?”

  Leaning back in his chair, he gave her a long, penetrating stare. “No, it’s happening because I don’t bring women here. The exception is my grandmother.”

  “What about your wife?”

  His eyebrows flickered slightly. “I don’t have a wife.”

  It was Kara’s turned to lift her eyebrows. “What about a girlfriend?”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  She angled her head. “I know this is a little personal, but do you like women?”

  Jeff smiled, flashing his teeth. “I happen to love women.”

  “But you don’t date local women,” Kara said perceptively. Her question was a statement.

  He nodded. “Not from the Cove, Landing, or the Creek.”

  “What’s wrong with them, Jeff?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Kara repeated. “There has to be a reason why they don’t appeal to you.”

  Propping an elbow on the table, he rested his chin on his fist. “Do you want me to set up a session where you can analyze me?” He knew he’d embarrassed Kara when a rush of color darkened her face. “I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly. “That was uncalled for. Will you forgive me?”

  Kara stared at something over his shoulder. Her eyes were now a deep green. “I’ll think about it.”

  Reaching across the table, Jeff grasped her hand, tightening his grip on her fingers when she tried pulling away. “I’m really sorry, Kara, for not answering your question.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t know why, but I’ve never been attracted to the girls on the island.”