by Nikki Duncan
“I have another project I need to work on for a few days. Can you get by the gazebo and work on the granddads’ faces and maybe the next scene? We can’t afford to lose any time. Let me know if you can’t help out.” He sighed and the shudder in it made her heart ache. How was it possible that the man could affect her through a voicemail? “I’m sorry I hurt you, Carmen. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Ryan.” She said it to herself and then replayed his message. She listened three more times, sighing each time he did at the end, before she got her cell phone and texted him.
Got your message.
Can you go? His response came so quickly she wondered if he’d been holding the phone.
Yes.
Thank you. How are you?
Good. Tired. Going to bed. Where she would dream of him stretched out at her side.
His next message took longer to come back and she could practically see him sitting in a chair thinking about what to write.
See you in my dreams. <3
His return message busted the dam that had held her tears at bay. Carmen sank into the couch with the waterworks flowing. What kind of Marine ended a conversation like that? And how was she supposed to resist him when he pulled out that kind of charm?
Chapter Six
Carmen removed the padlock from the gate and stepped through the privacy fence surrounding the gazebo before she closed the wood panel behind her. The sun shone overhead and the families milling around outside the wall laughed and yelled. Inside the wall was an unusual seclusion that still allowed her to feel a part of things.
Then she saw how much work Ryan had done, mostly without the help of his crew, and her heart trembled. Bags of rocks sat nearby. Clear buckets held rocks that had been sorted by color. The white turtleheads that formed the back border were beginning to bud and would be blooming by the parade.
Lining the turtleheads, stretching from one set of steps to the other, a horizontal row of black rock formed a line. Vertical lines delineated sections that would be individual pictures with another horizontal line forming the bottom of the frame.
The individual squares would depict the shared history of Whispering Cove and Maine. At the base of each square, the decade had been chiseled into a flat white stone and then smaller black stones had been glued in the outline. Only a few squares waited for her more artistic eye—according to one of his voicemails.
Starting with the 1950s, the first square had a large, flat stone sitting on a bed of blue mulch. On the stone, the red convertible that brought up the rear of every Independence Day parade. The first parade had been held in 1955, the same year the car had been built. She was supposed to ride in that car this year.
The 1960s was a 3-D statue of a landlocked salmon, the state fish, jumping from the water. For the statues, they’d taken smaller chunks of white rock and shaped them into the desired design, sort of like a tile pattern. The fish was mounted on a metal rod.
There was a moose, the state animal, for the 1970s and the state fossil, the pertica quadrifaria, was planned for the 1980s. The state herb, wintergreen, filled the square for the 1990s. Its smell would reach the entire area when the walls were pulled down and the wind picked it up.
Dirigo—Latin for “I lead”—was spelled out on a flat stone for the 2000s spot. It struck Carmen how fitting it was that a former Marine was the lead on the project and that the state motto was taking up the center square.
“This is going to be lovely.”
Carmen jerked and looked up to see Ruth Mitchell studying the 2010s square. It was the one that would have Byron, Errol and Harold on their bench. The bench was a rectangular stone. On the bench sat three headless men, one with a hand resting on his stone cane. Their heads and faces waited. “Mrs. Mitchell, hi.”
“Please. Call me Ruth.”
“Ruth. Are you spying for your husband?”
“Do you really think I would report back to him on how his plans are progressing?” Ruth asked with a wink. “He’s about to go mad over the fact you and Ryan aren’t speaking.”
“How does he know if we’re speaking or not?”
“He comes by every day to check up on Ryan. You’ve got that poor boy in knots.”
“Ryan?” She shook her head, hoping Ruth spoke the truth. If he was half as miserable as she’d been then life really was fair.
“He’s a better man than people give him credit for.”
“How do you mean?” Carmen had already seen his goodness, heard it. She didn’t mind hearing some more. She settled onto the ground in front of the square beside the grandfathers and began working on their faces.
“He told me one time he didn’t feel like he belonged here. Most people think he was running away when he joined the Marines.” Ruth lowered herself to the ground beside Carmen and began sorting rocks. “Truth of the matter is he was searching for himself.”
She understood that.
“Did you know he’s adopted?” Ruth continued. “At least by Mr. Alden.”
She shook her head. That was a piece of gossip no one had dropped before.
“Ryan’s mom met his father while he was on leave from the Marines. She was pregnant when he left.”
Aimee’s story had been similar. Guy comes to town, they have a fling, he leaves more behind than he planned.
“She wrote the man. He sent back papers signing away his rights.”
And that was like hers and Aimee’s life. They’d been abandoned by both parents. Ryan had been abandoned by one. That, combined with sixteen years in the military, could make anyone jaded.
“Ryan was lucky that Mr. Alden wanted to be his father. He knew that, but it didn’t keep him from always wondering if blood was what made him different.”
“Do you know if he found him?” Carmen had never tried to stop the gossip she heard, but she’d never joined in or encouraged it either. Until now.
“I don’t. His mother told him everything she knew, but I’m not sure if Ryan met him, or confronted him if he did.” Ruth shook her head and passed Carmen a handful of stones. “Whatever he did or didn’t find, Ryan’s a strong man with a steady core of beliefs. He may not be easy to get to know, he doesn’t allow many people in very far, but if you can get past his walls I think it’ll be worth it.”
Curiosity bubbled inside. She wanted to know what he’d found and what had made him return to Whispering Cove where the gossip mongers could have another go at him, but he deserved to tell her those answers himself if he ever decided she was worth it. Of course, they’d have to be talking for that to happen.
Carmen remembered hearing about Mr. Alden tangling with a mower and losing, but she didn’t know how bad it was. “He’d have stayed in the Corps if Mr. Alden hadn’t gotten hurt, wouldn’t he?”
“To hear Mrs. Alden tell it, Ryan aggressively sought assignments that would get him higher ranks. If a promotion was available he went after it.”
“So yeah.”
Ruth nodded. “He’d have been a lifer and kept climbing the chain.”
But he’d given up his dreams to help his family. Nothing about that was hard to understand or love.
“Ryan has good reasons for his guards.” Ruth chose more rocks and passed them to Carmen. “You have that in common.”
Carmen had seen that guard drop. How deeply he felt couldn’t be denied by anyone who knew what he’d given up for the sake of his family. The new understanding pinpointed the mysterious pull she’d felt to him.
“You think no one notices,” Ruth said, “but a few of us have.”
It unsettled her that Ruth had seen through her. The right response didn’t come easily, so she concentrated on the rock work and said nothing.
Ruth filled the silence. “You’re a traditionalist, Carmen. That’s obvious from this design. You’ve studied our history while trying to find your part in it.”
“Why can’t I just like Whispering Cove enough to want to know about it?”
“You can, but you’re a more
complex woman than that. You were lucky in that you found a steady foster home, but that family never became yours and you weren’t allowed to know your own history. Naturally, now that you’ve found a place to plant some roots, you want them to have a deeper meaning.”
Ruth knew more about her than Carmen would have thought. While it was a little annoying, it was also part of Whispering Cove’s charm. If people took the time to learn her secrets it meant they cared. Of course, by that logic, that she was asking questions about Ryan meant she cared for him. How much though? And why?
What was it about the man that made her want to be with him even when he was pissing her off?
“Well,” Ruth said, placing another bundle of rocks in Carmen’s hand. “It’s my afternoon to spoil my grandbaby. I really love what you’re doing here. You should be proud. And don’t give Ryan too hard a time. He’s one of the good guys.”
Ruth walked away, leaving Carmen to work and think back on all the messages Ryan had left on her voicemail. Wanting time alone with her thoughts, she pulled the iPod and earbuds from her pocket. With her country music cued up, she arranged and rearranged rocks until they took the shape of faces.
Dolly Parton came on, demanding to know why he had to look so good. Carmen bopped in time with the music, singing loud and no doubt off key and not caring in the least.
Dolly faded away, leaving room for Faith Hill to move in with “This Kiss”. The emotion she put into the lyrics about a man’s kiss resonated with Carmen. Ryan had made her feel that free with his kisses. Free enough that when Shania Twain kicked off “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” Carmen had never connected more with a song.
She was body dancing while working with rocks. The sun beat warm on her shoulders and cheeks. It was the first time she could remember that she felt completely safe to be herself and not worry about other people. In the seclusion of the town square, uncaring who might hear, she rocked out.
Better than anything else, she wasn’t relying on Aimee or Kendall to fill the spare moments of her life. By the time the next song came on, Carmen was doing more body dancing and head bopping and off-key singing than she was rock work.
Pushing to her feet, with her eyes closed, she held the iPod in one hand and waved the other in the air over her head. Maybe it was the strong women singing about the men who’d inspired them or the things they’d felt or wanted to feel in their life. Carmen was inspired by an inner peace she’d been missing since Aimee left town.
She kicked off her shoes and with the soft grass tickling her feet she moved with the beat as she went to get another round rock to make the second face. Her feet were moving so fast, she opened her eyes, but not soon enough. She moved too close to the pile of rock bags and before she could correct herself, her heel hit a bag. Falling backward, her iPod flew from her hand and jerked the earbuds out of her ears. Her ankle twisted and her hands, practically of their own accord, moved back to catch her.
Suddenly, strong arms came around her from behind and stopped her descent. Her shoulders and head rested against a lean, hard chest. Electricity sparked along her spine. Her insides tingled and tightened and she knew who’d rescued her.
Craning her head, she looked back. Ryan was holding her securely and smiling broadly. “Carmen.”
“How long have you been here?”
His smile danced a jig in his eyes. Oh God. He’d seen her dancing and heard her singing. Heat flamed her cheeks and it had nothing to do with the sun.
Since he was behind her, he was looking at her upside down, which somehow made it seem more ridiculous when he kissed her forehead. “Just for a few songs.”
A few songs. She’d only listened to a few songs. He’d been there for almost the whole time.
“You’ve got some nice moves, Woman.”
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people, Gunny.”
“A hurricane could have snuck up on you.” He helped her straighten and turned her to face him.
His smile was as endearing as the detailed voicemails he’d left. Sometime in the last week, with only space and knowledge that he was working on her design, the anger he incited had faded. Looking up, she searched his face and eyes. He was humored, obviously, but he also seemed lighter than he had before. Free. Like she’d just been feeling.
Holding on to the peace, she chose a path other than arguments. “Well, thank you for saving me.”
“Anytime.” He pulled his hands away.
She stepped back to pick up her iPod and her ankle buckled beneath the weight. Ryan caught her again, this time sweeping her fully into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, not that she thought he’d drop her, and enjoyed being carried to the bench in the gazebo.
“You’re different today.” She sounded winded, yet she wasn’t sure it was because of the dancing.
“So are you.” He set her on the bench, lingering a moment before releasing her. He sat by her feet and lifted her injured ankle. “You should be more careful when you dance on a worksite. You shouldn’t dance on a worksite.”
“You’re right.”
His brows were lifted when he raised his head to look at her. “Who are you, and what have you done with Carmen Smith?”
The fun, joking Ryan was a charmer. It would be nice to have him around longer. Curbing the desire to make a smart-assed remark, she smiled. “Didn’t she tell you she’s a twin? Yeah. There’s a fun one who likes music and dancing and an argumentative one who takes offense to everything and everyone.”
His lips curled as he rubbed his thumbs over the top of her foot. “Well, as much fun as that other twin is, I find myself in a mood for you.”
“Ryan.” Serious thoughts tumbled through her mind with all the joking ones flitting away. She didn’t want to argue and she didn’t want to brush over what could be an important moment. She just didn’t know what she wanted to say.
He moved her ankle from side to side, flexed it and turned it. “I think you’ve just sprained it, but you should have Dani or Jon take a look at it. And stay off it until you do.”
“I walked here, and I stand on my feet all day at work.”
“Then we’ll go see the doctor now.” Ryan said nothing else and left her no time to argue as he stood.
Whatever his next plan was, Carmen placed her fingers against his wrist, halting him. “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “I’d do the same for anyone else.”
She shook her head. She seemed to do that a lot with him. “Thank you for the work you’ve done here and for the daily messages telling me how it’s going. I’m sure a part of you would have been happier to write me off entirely.”
“Honestly?”
She nodded.
“You’ve been a challenge from the first moment.” He knelt beside her and exhaled a heavy breath. “But I’d rather fight with you every day than not talk to you at all.”
Her heart sighed. No one had ever said anything sweeter and she’d never wanted to kiss a man more than she wanted to kiss Ryan. Leaning in, she moved wrong and a stab of pain shot from her ankle into her leg. She winced and reached toward the offending pain.
Ryan turned his back to her and patted a hand on his shoulder. “Hop on.”
“What?”
“I’m taking you to the doctor.”
“You want to give me a piggy-back ride to the clinic?”
“My crew has my truck.” He glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were narrowed in challenge. “Would you rather I carry you like I did from over there? I’m sure the town gossips would love to create stories for that one.”
Byron, especially. “Like a piggy back is any better?”
“Carmen, I’d give my sister or any little kid a piggy-back ride. Being carried is something you save for someone else.”
Someone cherished. Ryan didn’t say it, and it might not have been what he was thinking, but it’s how she’d felt when he carried her. It was a feeling she’d like to experience again. He was right, though. She didn’t want to give Byron t
he satisfaction. “Can you grab my shoes before we go?”
He did as she asked and even slipped one of them on her non-injured foot. Turning in front of her, he again patted his shoulder. She stood on her good leg and wrapped her arms around his neck. Standing, he lifted her up and hooked his arms under her legs.
His body, strong and warm and hard beneath her, was not personal. His hair brushing her temple as she held on to his neck made her want to bury her hands in the silky locks. It was all very chivalrous that he didn’t want her walking, but if he thought for a moment it was less personal, he was sorely mistaken.
Chapter Seven
Ryan had waited, worried more with each passing minute, while Carmen was in with the doctor. If she’d gotten more than a sprain on his worksite he wouldn’t have forgiven himself. Though her injury had only been minor, he still felt responsible.
He walked with her, ready at every moment to catch her if she dropped a crutch, until they reached her apartment. She’d wavered a few times and each time he reached for her, wanting to carry her instead of watching her struggle.
He helped her get inside and settled onto the couch, plotting a way to stay and take care of her. He’d stepped into the quicksand of her appeal on the beach, sunk deeper with their argument and then deeper still when she cut his hair. Kissing her, carrying her to her room with every intention of going all the way, had pulled him down more. He hadn’t thought he could sink further, but then they’d gone a week without speaking.
Absence might make some hearts grow fonder. It had him bordering on obsessive stalker to the point that he timed his days with hers, going for coffee before heading to the site just so he could watch her pass. He found a reason to go by the hardware store at least once a day just so he could catch a glimpse of her in the salon’s window.
All of it had been a tease to his senses. Then he’d stepped through the gate of the site. And it wasn’t sunk or captivated or interested he’d felt. He had been, blatantly and unavoidably, lost.
