Straight on Toward Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

  “Me too,” Emma said. “This town contained all my good memories, the ones that were ripped away when my father left.”

  “But they didn’t really go away,” Layla said. “And your dad still loved you.”

  “I don't see how he could have,” she said, the stab of guilt eating at her gut. “I was really horrible to him. Maybe Reece Casings is right to hate me, too.”

  “Oh, I don’t think he hates you,” Layla drawled. “Not after the way I saw him looking at you at the Harvest Festival.”

  “He wasn’t looking at me—”

  “Don’t even try to deny it,” Layla said in an ‘oh please’ tone. “The man looked like he wanted to take you right there on the table amidst all the pies.”

  “Layla!” she gasped, sure her cheeks would catch on fire.

  Layla’s chuckle was pure evil. “I’m just telling you what I saw. Now, I couldn’t see your face last night, but I’m willing to bet you would not have minded if he had.”

  She’d almost begged him to take her then…and then today.

  Emma’s blood heated as she recalled his body pressed against her in the office. “He came by here this morning.”

  “Yeah?” Layla turned, interest lighting her eyes. “What did he say?”

  “He didn’t actually say very much.” He’d been too busy kissing her into submission to talk.

  Layla’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh…you kissed him!”

  “I—”

  “You did!” Layla clapped and then threw her arms around Emma. “Oh, that’s so great!”

  Emma goggled at her. “How is it great?”

  “Because you like him, and I know he likes you, and now maybe you’ll both stop being stubborn and admit it,” Layla cried.

  “I don’t like him. He’s annoying and judgmental and…”

  “Hot and protective and makes a good living…and did I mention he’s hot?”

  “Layla, come on I’m not—” She shook her head.

  Layla leaned closer. “Is he a bad kisser?”

  “What?”

  “Was it sloppy or too wet? Did he not know what to do? He is good looking, but he also seems a little straight-laced. Maybe he’s just a boring kisser?”

  “He’s not boring,” Emma ground out. If he were any better, she would’ve gone up in flames, leaving only an outline of ash scorched into the office door.

  Layla grinned. “So…it was good?”

  Emma groaned and dropped her head back. “Yes…yes, it was…” There weren’t really words to describe those few moments with Reece.

  The grin turned a bit salacious. “Okay, more than good. So he’s hot, he wants you, and he revs up your engine, so to speak. What’s the holdup, then?”

  Emma covered her face. “It’s impossible. We’re impossible. He’s like some kind of pseudo-uncle for the girls, and—”

  “All the better,” Layla said. “You already know he loves them, and those girls obviously adore him.”

  “Yeah…they like him more than they like me.”

  “Only because they know him better,” Layla said.

  Emma winced. “Thanks, that’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

  Layla slung an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “You knew it was going to take time to build a relationship with them,” she said in a supportive fashion. “I think you’ve made a lot more progress than you realize. The way you went after Tammy-Lynn at the festival was a thing to behold, and I know Paige noticed. Everyone did.”

  “Paige has always been easier to deal with, but Imogene is—”

  “A very scared and confused teenager who’s just lost her parents,” Layla reminded her.

  “I know, I know,” Emma groaned. “I’m trying to be the adult, but it’s hard.”

  Layla squeezed. “It’s going to get better.”

  “How do you know that?” Emma grumbled with a gusty sigh.

  “I just do. You care, and those girls care, even if they don’t realize it yet.” Layla’s expression turned salacious again. “And you’ve got the super-hot lawyer on the hook.”

  Emma shot her friend a death glare. “I do not have Reece on the hook.”

  “You could if you’d stop being such a wimp.”

  “I am not a wimp,” she sputtered as outrage flooded through her. “Take that back.”

  “Prove me wrong then,” Layla goaded. “What have you got to lose?”

  What did Emma have to lose? How about everything?

  Emma continued with her kitchen renovation, even after Layla went back to her office. Eventually, the sounds of cast members arriving reached Emma’s ears. She went out to greet her mother and Paige, who had come together. Imogene was working on a school project at a friend’s house, which meant Emma didn’t have to run home to take care of her sister…not that Imogene would welcome the notion that she needed babysitting. Despite the temporary truce, Emma was under no delusion that everything would be smooth sailing from here on out.

  Emma might have stayed to watch, but Grayson Kendall had a strict rule about anyone not in or connected directly to the show hanging around during rehearsals. He claimed it gave the cast bad mojo or something. She didn’t really understand the reason for the edict, but perhaps it was another one of those quirky theatre superstitions. She didn’t feel like going home, which would only lead to uninterrupted time to think about Reece Casings.

  Was she acting like a wimp when it came to him, as Layla had claimed?

  Why yes…yes she was…and with good reason.

  Needing a bit of fresh air after being cooped up in the kitchen all day, Emma went through the back door that led to a small alley behind the theatre. She spotted another smaller building about ten feet away. Layla had pointed it out as the shop where Noah worked on sets or anything else needed for the theatre. She’d even mentioned something about sanding bathroom stall doors in there late one night.

  Bright lights were on, which meant Noah must still be working. Emma hesitated and then walked toward the shop. She found him standing in front of a fireplace mantle, brushing on a dark wood stain. Somehow, Noah must have sensed her presence, because he turned his head.

  “Hi…” Emma said, hesitating in the doorway.

  He smiled. “Hi Emma…how are things going in your kitchen?”

  “Good, I was just taking a break and stumbled on your lair.”

  A low, rumbling chuckle filled the shop. “You make it sound like I’m building torture devices in here or something.”

  “Certainly not torture devices.”

  Emma wandered closer to get a better look at the mantle and immediately realized he’d done a magnificent job. Even with only a small portion stained, she could tell it was a work of art.

  “Wow, this is beautiful.” Emma ran a hand along the top where he had yet to apply the stain. “Did you really do all this?”

  He nodded. “Been working on it for a few weeks. It’ll be the centerpiece of the living room set.”

  “Has Grayson seen it?”

  “Not yet. I want to finish it so he can get the full effect,” Noah said. “I like the way it turned out.”

  “You should.” Emma grinned at him. “Who knew you were such an artist?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know that I qualify as an artist. You haven’t heard me sing and my painting skills are horrible. I’m having the art teacher at the high school come in to take care of that part.”

  “There’s all kinds of art,” Emma said. “For example, I am an artist in the kitchen.”

  “I believe it.” Noah winked at her. “I sampled all of your pies the other night at the festival. They were sinful.”

  Emma laughed and clasped her hands together. “Oh, I like that. Like I’m corrupting your taste buds.”

  “Those pies might have spoiled me for anyone else’s.” Noah turned to the little table by his side and then presented her with a small brush. “You want to help finish this baby?”

  Emma did, but she hesitated,
biting her lip. “I don’t want to mess up your beautiful mantle. I’m good in the kitchen, but not so much with carpentry or painting.”

  “It’s pretty hard to mess up when you’re staining,” Noah said, putting the brush in her hand. “You just swipe it on and make sure to get a good coating into all the nooks and crannies.”

  “If you say so.”

  Emma dipped the brush into the can of stain and started coating, amazed by how utterly transformed the wood became. It was like she was bringing the set piece to life, going from black and white to Technicolor.

  “This is so cool,” Emma said in a hushed voice, as if she might break the magic spell by speaking about it aloud.

  “I think I like staining most of all,” Noah said, working his brush into a corner with precise flicks of his wrist. “It’s like the wood is becoming what it was meant to be all along.”

  She flicked a glance toward him. “You’re a philosophical carpenter, I see. Do you have other similar deep thoughts when you’re out here carving away?”

  “Oh, you can get almost religious when you’re molding a piece of wood into something else entirely,” Noah said, the corners of his mouth tilting up. “Too bad it isn’t as easy to mold people in the same way.”

  “Wouldn’t that be cool?” Emma would mold Imogene and Paige into people who actually liked her. She could mold Reece Casings into a less scintillating man who wouldn’t assault her senses with such ease.

  Or she could stop thinking about him entirely. Thinking about Reece Casings made her hot and bothered. She didn’t want to be hot for him and certainly didn’t need the bother. Her life was complicated enough just trying to raise her half-sisters.

  Emma went back to dragging the brush along the right side, the stain covering more and more of the natural wood. “I think you’ve done a great job with the mantle, but I hope Grayson Kendall isn’t driving you to work all night,” she said, seeking a distraction from dangerous thoughts.

  “You’re working pretty late, too,” Noah pointed out.

  “I’m used to it,” Emma said. “A Chef’s hours are naturally long. Besides, I’d just be going home to an empty house if I left now.”

  “Me too.”

  He said it was such finality. Emma at least had her mom and sisters around to distract her from dangerous thoughts. Noah didn’t seem to have anyone.

  “So, what are you avoiding by hiding out in this shop?” Emma asked.

  “Mostly my own company.”

  He said it with a melancholy smile that made Emma’s heart twist in sympathy.

  “I’m sorry.” Emma wasn’t exactly sure why she wanted to offer him sympathy; she just had a feeling Noah Johnson was a man in a lot of pain.

  She wondered at the demons that plagued Noah Johnson. Was he running from something? Here was another young, good-looking man who had shown up in Shellwater Key for seemingly no purpose. He didn’t have family here. He was working at The Paradise, which probably couldn’t afford to pay him much.

  A notch formed between his eyes as Noah frowned. “For what?”

  “I’m sorry for whatever keeps you up at night.” Part of her wanted to ask what drove him to avoid his own company, but she didn't feel like she knew him well enough.

  A slight smile, this one filled more with amusement than sadness listed his lips. “Thanks. I think being in Shellwater Key and working at The Paradise has been good for me.”

  “Really? I keep waiting to feel like that.” Emma wasn't sure she would ever truly feel like Shellwater Key was home again.

  Noah stopped staining and lowered his brush. “Oh, I think you already are, and maybe that scares you,” he said, his gaze direct but also full of warmth and understanding. “After what you did at the Harvest Festival I’d say you’re a lot more invested than you may realize.”

  “What I did?” Emma echoed, turning to face him more fully.

  “The Mamma Bear routine you pulled with Tammy-Lynn Jennings,” Noah said.

  “Oh that.” Emma dropped her head back and groaned. “I can’t believe I threatened her.”

  “You were protecting your cubs,” he said. “It’s what a mother does.”

  “But I’m not a mother,” she said automatically.

  He chuckled. “You are now, Emma Bertram, so get used to that feeling of constant tension and worry. It never goes away.”

  A shudder went down her spine at his words. Was she starting to act like a mother? She had jumped in to defend her sister without hesitation. She’d wanted to take a swing at Tammy-Lynn. Mostly, she’d hated seeing the look of devastation on Paige’s face. The cloud of doubt that she might not be talented after all. Did that caring mean she was morphing into a mother?

  “How did this happen?” she whispered in the suddenly silent shop.

  Noah’s eyes filled with compassion. “Your father and stepmother died.”

  The reality of her situation slammed into her once more, and Emma released a sharp breath. The image of those twin caskets being lowered into the ground flashed through her mind, and she had to close her eyes to block out the devastating truth. “Right…how could I forget?”

  She heard shuffling feet, and then Noah touched her shoulder. Emma opened her eyes—a water bottle filled her vision.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to be so blunt,” he said, eyes filled with regret.

  Emma took the bottle and drank several swigs, thankful that the cool liquid soothed the guilty churning in her gut. “It’s all right.” She took several deep breaths, until the ache subsided somewhat.

  “Better now?” Noah asked.

  She nodded.

  “How are things going, other than altercations with heinous women who like to stir up trouble just for kicks?” he asked.

  She let out bitter laughter. “Stormy, most days.”

  Emma set the bottle down and went back to staining, concentrating on covering every inch of wood. She thought back to the day of the festival. She’d started out the morning so filled with genuine excitement. Seeing her new oven and stove, and baking with the other women had been marvelous. Tammy-Lynn Jennings had ruined that good feeling.

  “Don’t let one very unhappy woman take the joy out of what happened the other day,” Noah said, as if he’d reached into her mind to divine her thoughts.

  “How did you do that?” Emma asked, stopping mid-stroke to stare at him.

  Noah’s head tilted like a curious dog. “What?”

  “Guess what I was thinking? Are you clairvoyant?”

  His lips twitched. “No.”

  “Are you sure?” Emma asked. “Because Layla swears you’re either gifted or maybe some kind of angel come down to save us all.”

  Noah’s laughter filled the shop. “Layla has a rather vibrant imagination. Trust me, I’m no angel. I’m just observant, and I like to help my friends when I can.”

  “Are we friends?” she asked.

  Emma realized with some shame that she had almost subconsciously avoided any encounters with The Paradise’s Set Designer/Carpenter/Handy Man. Noah Johnson’s probing, knowing gaze unnerved her for some reason. He seemed to connect with people in a way she’d never encountered. Part of her wondered if he could tell how ambivalent she was about caring for her sisters. Could he tell that every time she looked at them she still saw the broken family that had preceded their introduction into her life? Did he know that she despaired of ever forging a new kind of family with Imogene and Paige?

  “I’d like us to be friends,” Noah said. “We do work together, and I have the feeling you could use a few extra people in your corner.”

  “I think there might be too many people in my corner of the world,” Emma said. “Too many people counting on me to do the right thing and make everything better.”

  “Don’t put that burden on yourself,” Noah said. “No human source can make everything better for your sisters. Their parents just died, and no one can really take away their pain. It’ll always be with them, but you have a chance to create a
new family…if you can get past what happened with your father.”

  Emma jerked around. “Stop doing that!”

  His lips twitched. “Too close to home?”

  “Now I know why Layla finds you so frustrating,” Emma groused.

  “Layla didn’t always like to hear the truth either, but she eventually found her way. She’s working on forgiving her mother and grandmother, and she’s allowing all those new family members into her life.”

  “You think I need to forgive my father? Even though he’s dead, and it no longer matters?”

  “It matters because the resentment is still affecting you and your relationships. I’ll tell you exactly what I told Layla. Bitterness is like a cancer, and it eats away at you until there’s nothing left. Until you learn to forgive your father, and yourself for not being able to, you will always be running uphill.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  He smiled. “Getting to that place of forgiveness is never easy.”

  “You really are some kind of guru or soothsayer.”

  “No again,” he said with a soft chuckle.

  “Okay, well if you’re so smart…tell me how to reach my sisters so we don’t feel like strangers sharing the same house.”

  “I think you already are reaching them,” Noah said.

  “Really? I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, here’s one clue.” Noah leaned closer and regarded her with renewed intensity. “Tell me something…when Paige needed reassurance the other day, who did she turn to?”

  “What?” Emma asked in confusion.

  “When Tammy-Lynn made the accusation that Paige had gotten her part in the show because she’s your sister, where did she turn? Everyone was hovering around Paige, trying to comfort her, but when she wanted the truth about whether or not she was talented she looked to you. Not Grayson, not your mother, and not even her pseudo uncle, Reece Casings. She wanted reassurance from you, Emma Bertram. Think about why she chose you, and then maybe you’ll start to see that things aren’t as hopeless as they seem. In fact, you might be on the verge of a wonderful and fulfilling new life that you could never even have imagined.”