The Wishing Season (A Chapel Springs Romance Book 3)

by Denise Hunter

  He got out, lowered the tailgate, and tossed her a smile that curled her toes. “I see how it goes when I’m gone.”

  “Hey, I made us lunch.”

  “All is forgiven.” Abandoning the mulch, he joined her on the porch.

  He practically inhaled the sandwiches and chips. She reheated apple dumplings left over from yesterday’s brunch, then they went back to work in the yard.

  An hour later a bead of sweat trickled down her back. Her back ached, her arms burned, and since when was it eighty degrees in April?

  “I’m starting to wish for winter again,” she said. “I’m about ready to call it a day.”

  Cole lowered the full wheelbarrow to rest nearby. “Then you’d have a half-empty restaurant and be fretting over money.”

  A retort was stolen from her lips when he whipped off his shirt. A sheen of sweat covered his muscled torso. His biceps bulged as he lifted the wheelbarrow and dumped the load.

  Maybe another hour or two.

  They worked in companionable silence, PJ stealing glances when he wasn’t looking. She caught sight of the scar on his shoulder as he turned toward her, and she remembered wondering about it months ago. About four inches long, it ran down the front of his shoulder toward his heart.

  He dumped the last load under a nearby shrub and grabbed a rake to help her spread it.

  “How’d you get the scar?” She nodded her chin toward his shoulder when they stopped for a water break.

  Something flashed in his eyes, and she wondered if she shouldn’t have asked. She doubted it was from a fall from a tire swing or a best friend’s dare.

  He lowered the water bottle and capped it. “The car accident—something flying loose. Never did find out what it was.”

  She hadn’t realized he’d been in the car too. “The one that took your family?”

  His jaw flexed. “Yeah.”

  She’d thought maybe he’d been abused in foster care. This was almost worse. A constant reminder of the day he lost his family. The day he’d become the sole survivor at the tender age of twelve.

  “How’d it happen?” she asked softly. “The accident . . .”

  He picked up the rake and worked mulch around the base of a dogwood tree. “I don’t like talking about it.”

  “Sometimes it helps.”

  His muscles flexed as he pulled the rake. A drop of sweat ran down his temple.

  She remembered how painful it had been when her brother had died. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

  His eyes bounced off hers. “I know you do.”

  “It’s worse when it happens suddenly, I think. There’s no time for good-byes, no time to say, ‘Hey, I know I’m a pain in the butt sometimes, but I really love you.’ I hope Michael knew that.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  “Was it like that for you?”

  He reached for another pile, spreading. “Not exactly.”

  “I can’t even imagine losing my whole family. It’s probably why you’re so strong. You’ve survived so much.”

  “I’m no hero, PJ.”

  “You are to me.”

  He gave a wry laugh, shook his head.

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit. What you’ve been through would’ve broken most people. And here you are, all these years later, not only thriving but helping others.”

  His jaw flexed. “Stop.”

  “It’s true. I had no idea how good I had it growing up until I met you. I see these kids you’re helping, what they’ve been through, and it makes me thankful. It makes me want to give back too. You inspire me.”

  He stopped suddenly and impaled her with a look. “It was my fault, all right? I don’t deserve your admiration. I don’t deserve anything.” He reached for another pile, spreading the mulch fast and furiously.

  “What do you mean, your fault?”

  He kept working, his eyes fixed on the ground, as he jabbed at the mulch. The rake caught on a root, and he yanked until it turned loose.

  PJ set a hand on his sweat-slickened arm. “What happened?”

  His arm flinched under her touch. He stopped, breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell rapidly. His eyes were pinned to the ground.

  She longed to soothe away his pain. To bring peace to his tormented soul. “What is it, Cole? You can tell me anything.” She wondered if he’d ever talked about it with anyone or if he’d kept it bottled up inside all this time.

  He swallowed. “Two weeks before the accident, I found out my dad was having an affair.” He stopped. His nostrils flared.

  She squeezed his arm, waiting patiently for him to continue.

  “I walked in on him and another woman—he never saw me.”

  “Did your mom know?”

  Cole shook his head. He started raking again, and her hand fell.

  “We were taking a long trip to visit my mom’s friend. I didn’t want to go. My dad was driving, and I was arguing with my mom, irritated with Noelle. It was all so stupid. So selfish.”

  Her heart ached at the pain on his face.

  “I was mad at my mom, and I wanted to hurt her. I told her about the other woman. My dad glared at me in the rearview mirror. I can still see that look. My mom started questioning him, and they argued. I don’t remember what happened after that. I guess Dad took his eyes off the road for a minute. He went over the center line—at least that’s what they told me. There was another car coming over the hill.”

  An ache opened up inside. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

  His hand tightened on the rake. “I’m the one who’s sorry. If it weren’t for me, they’d still be alive.”

  “You were only twelve.”

  He shook his head, continuing to pull and spread the mulch in quick, angry movements. “My sister . . . I was supposed to protect her.”

  She grabbed his arm, stopping him. She waited until he looked at her. His eyes were haunted, the skin over his face stretched taut.

  She wanted to go back in time and wrap her arms around his twelve-year-old shoulders and tell him it wasn’t his fault. He’d had fifteen years of heaping blame on himself, and her words felt as futile as a drop of water on a raging fire.

  She took his face and turned it toward her. “Maybe no one’s ever told you, but it wasn’t your fault, Cole. You were a child. Accidents happen, and sometimes nobody’s to blame.”

  He stared back, something flickering in his eyes. Denial, maybe. Reluctance to believe.

  “If the same thing had happened to Zac or Josh, what would you tell them?”

  His eyes darted away. She tightened her grip on his face until he looked at her again.

  “What would you tell them?”

  He blinked twice, those long lashes, so boyish, fluttering over his pain-stricken eyes. He swallowed hard.

  “You’d tell them it wasn’t their fault. Because it wouldn’t have been. You were a child, and you did a childish thing. That doesn’t make you at fault. Your family loved you. They wouldn’t want you drowning in guilt.”

  Her hand fell away as he went back to work. PJ wondered if anything she’d said was making a dent in that stubborn heart of his. God, please help him. What a terrible burden to live with all these years. Heal him deep inside. Release him.

  She knew what guilt felt like. Her relationship with Keaton had her drowning in it. Only all these months later was she finally starting to see that it was Keaton who was to blame. Her only crime had been naïveté.

  “I guess we’ve both been blaming ourselves for something that wasn’t our fault,” she said.

  The only response was a quick glance and a tight smile. He didn’t believe it yet, but she prayed he would in time.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  THE SMELL OF GRILLING BURGERS WAFTED THROUGH PJ’S parents’ backyard the following Friday. Twilight had fallen, and the white twinkle lights in the landscaping were like a thousand fireflies lighting the night. A mild breeze brushed PJ’s arms as she folded them o
n the picnic table.

  Her dad manned the grill while Grandpa stood nearby. They were no doubt talking about the early planting and the likely yield from this year’s corn harvest.

  Her eyes drifted to the court, where Ryan and Cole had teamed up against Beckett and Daniel. Cole had been reluctant to come. PJ wondered if it was too early to bring him here, but she sensed he needed family. Needed a place to be accepted, a place to call home.

  The week had been rough on him, with the notice of his arrest in the newspaper. The grapevine had been even more effective at spreading the word, and she’d received concerned calls from all of her family. She’d dodged the specifics about Keaton. But Cole had been notified today that Keaton was dropping the charges. Maybe his dad didn’t want the publicity, or maybe Keaton didn’t want his wife to know he’d been here. PJ didn’t care so long as Cole was off the hook.

  “Okay, so what exactly happened Sunday?” Madison set Ava down, and the little girl toddled to her grandma, arms up. “Your ex-boyfriend came to see you at your booth, and Cole was there? Did he get jealous or something?”

  “There are so many rumors,” Jade said. “It’s hard to know fact from fiction.”

  “Cole was defending me. Keaton wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  Mom scooped up Ava. “Keaton’s such a nice young man. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.”

  “He’s from Indianapolis?” Jade asked.

  “You remember,” Madison said. “She was dating him last spring, and they broke up before graduation.”

  “Why was he in Chapel Springs?” Mom asked.

  PJ shrugged. “I guess he wants another chance.”

  “And you’re not interested?” Mom asked.

  “Mom, I’m with Cole now.” If her mom knew about Keaton’s marriage, that would put an end to all this, but PJ would rather serve Spam and Velveeta sandwiches at The Grille than tell her.

  “Honey, if Keaton was only talking to you, then why did Cole feel he had to get violent? I’m a little concerned about his reaction.”

  “Mom, Keaton’s been calling and texting me for months—harassing me. Remember when I changed my number back in December?”

  “That’s the reason?” Jade picked up Mia and handed her a Cheerio.

  “He’s written letters and sent me flowers and just wouldn’t leave me alone. Cole knew I was upset about it.”

  “Well, maybe he’s pressing too hard,” Mom said. “But Cole’s the one who got arrested.”

  “The charges have been dropped.”

  “Has he talked much about his childhood?” Madison asked. “Some of those kids have pretty dark backgrounds.”

  PJ shot her a look.

  “Well, they do.”

  Madison smelled Ava’s diaper and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, I think this one needs to be changed.”

  “And some of them are just victims of their circumstances,” PJ said.

  The guys on the court high-fived each other as the game came to an end.

  “Cole’s been nothing but good to me. He’s a good man.”

  “Oh, honey, we’re not saying he’s not. We’re just concerned about you. His first reaction was violence. Doesn’t that at least put up a red flag?”

  PJ stood, gathering Ava from Madison’s arms. “I’ll change her.”

  She needed a few minutes to herself. She wished for once they’d just believe in her. They’d be quick to understand Cole’s reaction if they knew how Keaton had deceived her—but it would only reinforce their notion of her naïveté.

  Cole passed the hamburger platter to PJ’s brother and started on the potato salad. Good cooking ran in the family, apparently. He’d already helped himself to seconds.

  The chatter was loud and happy with at least four conversations going on at once, broken by “Pass the potatoes, please” and “Would you hand me the salt?” The twins added liveliness, squealing and laughing from their high chairs.

  He’d been worried about their reception of him after last weekend’s unfortunate event. He’d been snubbed by a bank teller and warily eyed by a grocery store clerk. But PJ’s family seemed friendly enough. He still sensed some resistance on her mother’s part, but maybe that was just the way Mrs. McKinley was toward all her children’s suitors in the beginning. He would earn her trust. PJ was worth fighting for.

  At the beginning of the meal, they’d quizzed PJ on the restaurant’s performance. When she gave an honest report, Ryan offered to look over her financials to see where she was falling short. Her dad had brought up the kitchen fire twice, a sore spot for PJ since she’d been working the stovetop where it started. Her mom subtly questioned her expensive Valentine’s ads in the Gazette, never mind that it had been a very profitable weekend for the restaurant.

  PJ’s smile had grown tighter with each question. Cole knew they meant well. It was obvious they loved her and wanted her to succeed, but they had no idea how demoralizing their quizzing was. Each dig at her self-confidence wounded him. Twice he nearly said something, but then PJ squeezed his leg and he bit his tongue.

  Besides, after Mrs. Simmons had called him this week, he didn’t think she had anything to worry about. Word of his arrest had spread all the way to Colorado. She’d asked for the details and seemed to be reserving judgment, but he was no fool. He was supposed to be a role model for the foster kids. A bright light in the community. And even though the charges had been dropped, his arrest would remain on his record. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret standing up for PJ.

  His feelings for her had grown exponentially the past several weeks. She smoothed out his jagged edges. She was his first thought in the morning and his last thought before bed. The one he wanted to spend every free minute with. The one he wanted to pull into his arms and never let go of. He was beginning to wonder what he’d done before she’d come into his life, waving a ceramic planter and singing off-key.

  “She’s got you all twisted up, eh, boy?” PJ’s grandpa said.

  Cole realized he’d been staring at the man’s granddaughter, probably with the moony eyes of a grade-schooler high on his first crush.

  “Stop that, Grandpa.” A delicate flush bloomed on PJ’s cheeks.

  “Young love . . . It was just like that for your grandma and me.”

  “That’s not true,” Madison said. “You weren’t even in love when you married.”

  “Their love grew out of friendship,” PJ told Cole, then she fixed a look on her grandpa. “After the wedding bells.”

  “And then she had me all twisted up—like I said.”

  Cole shifted on the bench. He wasn’t even used to having these feelings, much less discussing them at a table full of the woman’s family.

  “How’s the new house working out, Ryan?” Beckett asked. He finished off his burger, wiping his chin with his checkered napkin.

  Cole wanted to hug the guy.

  “All unpacked.”

  Madison shot him a look.

  “Okay, mostly unpacked.”

  “His walls are as barren as a desert.” Madison poked her husband in the side. “Like someone else I used to know. And he still has sheets up on the windows.”

  “That sounds familiar.” Jade traded a look with Daniel.

  “Honey, I said I’d help you with all that. I’ll come over Sunday and see what we can do. There are a lot of walls to fill up in that big old house.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You know what you need, Ry?” Madison said. “A dog. There’s this cute basset hound at the shelter, two years old, had all his shots, and he has the sweetest chocolate brown eyes.”

  “I love basset hounds,” PJ said. “Those big floppy ears. You should definitely get him, Ry.”

  “Or a cat,” Jade said. “He could always get a cat. Our neighbor’s just had a litter. You want one?”

  “He’s allergic to cats, remember?” Mrs. McKinley said.

  “Oh yeah.” Jade pressed her lips together. A snicker squeaked out anyway.

  “Y
eah, yeah, laugh it up,” Ryan said.

  “What is it?” Cole asked.

  Beckett shrugged, the only other one who seemed not to be in on the joke.

  Mom gave Jade a disapproving look. “When he was eight or nine, he had a crush on the little girl across the street—”

  “Tallulah Franklin,” Madison said.

  “She was a pretty little redhead, and Ryan was head over heels.”

  “Mom sent him over with a pie, and he thought he’d impress her by teaching her cat a trick. Only by the time he got home, his face was beet red.”

  “He had an awful rash all over his face and chest, and his eyes were so swollen, poor guy.”

  “She said he looked like a Play-Doh head, and the name kind of caught on,” Madison said. “He never went back, and that was the end of the Ryan and Tallulah saga.”

  Ryan frowned. “Thanks for the recap. I don’t want a dog or a cat. I’m not home enough to take care of a pet.” His eyes swiveled around the table. “So don’t be getting any cute ideas for my birthday.”

  “How about a bird?” Mom said.

  “Or a bunny,” Jade said. “They have cute little twitchy noses.”

  Ryan scowled. “No pets.”

  PJ’s mom set her napkin on her empty plate. “So, Cole, tell us a little about you. What was life like before Chapel Springs?”

  Ryan looked heavenward. “Thank You.”

  “I was working in Fort Wayne for a home improvement company for the past several years.”

  “He was a crew manager,” PJ pitched in. “That’s how he knew so much about renovation.”

  “How’d you get into construction?” Mr. McKinley asked.

  “My foster father did home improvement on the side. I worked with him during the summers.”

  “Did you have any foster brothers or sisters?” Mrs. McKinley asked.

  “I did. Mostly they came and went, but I’ve stayed close with one of them.”

  “Her name’s Lizzy,” PJ said. “She’s coming to live at the house in a week when she turns eighteen.”

  “Oh, that’s great,” Madison said. “It’s terrific what you’re doing for those kids.”