Finding Home (20 page)

“Cindy?”

She snapped back to attention at Scott’s query. “What?”

“Could you shut the door?”

From his tone, she had a feeling he’d asked her more than once.

Averting her head to conceal the sudden rush of warmth to her cheeks, she complied.

“How come your face is red, Mom?”

So much for hiding her embarrassment.

“Must be the wind. It’s gusty up here.” Barbara’s inflection was matter-of-fact, but the twinkle in her eyes when Cindy turned back suggested she’d deduced the real reason.

Fortunately, maneuvering up the ramp required all of the older woman’s attention. The going was slow, and she was puffing as they arrived at the top.

“You okay, Gram?” Scott fitted the key in the lock.

“Out of shape...is all.” She grimaced. “And to think I used to play fetch...with Toby in the backyard.”

“Give it time. You’ve progressed a lot even in the past week.” Scott pocketed the ring of keys and spoke to Jarrod. “Why don’t you tie Toby’s leash to the railing while we peek inside? Then we can walk him around the site a bit. Ladies...” He stepped aside and ushered them in.

Barbara shuffled in first, and Cindy stayed close behind, poised to reach out if she stumbled. But they all made it inside without incident. Once they gathered in the center of the short aisle, they stood in silence as they took in the re-created space.

Extraordinary
and
inspiring
were the words that popped into Cindy’s mind.

Starfish Bay Chapel had been lovely when she’d first attended services here. Reverend Tobias had lavished the structure and grounds with love, and watching it decay after his death had been heartrending. But now...

She gazed at the original wooden pews, fewer in number but polished to a satiny glow. The large window in front, intersected with gold art glass in the shape of a cross, offered a sweeping view of the sea and sky beyond. She recognized the original pulpit, the brass chandeliers, the decorative molding at the top of the arched windows that lined the side walls.

It was the Starfish Bay Chapel she remembered but in miniature.

She stroked a hand over the back of a pew, the finish smooth beneath her fingers, the smell of fresh paint lingering in the air. “This is wonderful.”

“I agree.” Gram gripped the walker and urged it forward. “You can feel God’s presence in this place. I wouldn’t mind sitting a spell, if you all can spare the time.”

“Fine with me. I can give Jarrod a tour of some of the equipment on the site while you soak up the ambience.”

Her son’s eyes widened, and Cindy telegraphed Scott a silent thank-you. Not only would that gesture make amends for their rocky start, it was every little boy’s dream—getting up close and personal with heavy equipment. Best of all, she didn’t have to worry about his safety. Scott would watch out for him.

Scott smiled and winked at her. Message received.

“Seriously?” Jarrod continued to stare at Scott.

“Yes. As long as you promise to stick close.”

“I promise. Can I take Toby?”

“No problem, but keep a tight grip on the leash. He’s used to being fenced in, and he has a tendency to take off in wide-open spaces.”

“I’ll hold it real tight.”

“Cindy? Would you like to come?”

“Don’t be silly.” Barbara waved the notion aside. “Does she looked dressed to be traipsing around in a dirt pile? She’ll ruin those pretty shoes. I’m sure she’d much rather stay and keep me company.”

“I think I’m staying.” Cindy smiled at Scott.

“Okay. We won’t be long. Let me help you get situated, Gram.”

Once the older woman was settled, Cindy sat beside her in the pew.

Scott dropped a hand on Jarrod’s shoulder and started for the exit. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Don’t hurry on our account.” Barbara waited until the door closed behind the duo and smiled at Cindy. “Boys and their toys. Scott’s always liked working around heavy equipment, and if Jarrod’s a typical boy, my guess is he’s going to eat this up.”

“He is a typical boy, and there’s no guessing involved. He’ll love it.” Cindy shifted sideways and rested her arm along the back of the pew. “At least it will be more pleasant than their first encounters here.”

“Encounters, plural?”

Apparently her assumption that Scott had told his grandmother all about both trespassing incidents had been wrong.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” Cindy stalled, trying to figure out how to downplay the unpleasantness without telling a fib. “Jarrod came out here twice. Scott gave him a talking-to the second time and warned him to stay away.”

“Hmm.” Barbara gave her a keen look. “I have a feeling
warned
is too mild a term. He probably blew up.”

The corner of Cindy’s mouth quirked and she lifted one shoulder. “He does have red hair.”

“True. But it’s more than that.” Barbara examined the front window, where the afternoon sun had gilded the imbedded art-glass cross, giving it a shimmering incandescence. “Did he tell you about his hand?”

“He just said he injured it on a job site.”

Only the muted crash of the surf on the rocks below and a distant yip from Toby intruded on the silence that followed.

Finally, Barbara sighed. “Well, I’m not one to tell tales out of school, but I can’t see the harm in sharing a bit more of the story with you.”

Cindy knew she ought to demure. If Scott wanted her to know his history, he’d tell her. But she
was
curious. So tamping down the guilty niggle in her conscience, she remained silent.

“Four years ago, Scott’s company had a problem with vandalism on a construction site. The signs pointed to some sort of gang initiation. They beefed up security at night, but the kids kept getting in—and getting bolder. They started showing up during working hours, too.

“One day Scott spotted a young teenager fiddling with some equipment near a storage shed. He took off after him, and the boy ran into the middle of the construction site. He tripped and fell into a ditch in front of an excavator. The operator didn’t see what had happened, and the kid was crushed. So was Scott’s hand when he reached in to try and yank him out.”

Cindy closed her eyes. After a traumatic experience like that, it was no wonder he’d gone ballistic when he’d found Jarrod at The Point. “Did the boy survive?”

“No. Scott was consumed with guilt for months after the incident. He kept berating himself for not being quicker, for not just yelling instead of giving chase. And he was angry with the boy’s parents, too. They were both successful businesspeople, absorbed in their careers, who ignored their children. That really struck a chord with him.”

“Why?” The question was out before Cindy could stop it.

Barbara gripped the edge of the seat as a spasm of pain tightened her features. “I’m sorry to say my son and his wife were the same way. They never had time for Scott or Devon, which is why we brought them out here as often as we could. Scott was left on his own during his early years, and kids look for acceptance where they can find it. Unfortunately, some turn to gangs. Scott might have ended up getting in with the wrong crowd, just as the boy he chased did. He’s never had much sympathy for parents who neglect their childrearing duties, and his tolerance level dropped to zero after that tragic episode.”

Another mystery solved. She’d noticed the quick glance he’d flicked at her briefcase that first night in the Orchid, when he’d confronted her about Jarrod. Had watched his lips flatten in disapproval. He must have assumed she, too, was a mother who neglected her children.

Considering the rough start they’d had, it was amazing their relationship had progressed as far as it had.

As the silence lengthened, Barbara leaned closer and touched her hand, her expression concerned. “Was that more than you wanted to know, my dear?”

“No. To be honest, it explains a few things.”

“I hoped it might. Scott’s never been one to foist his problems on anyone else, but when you care about someone—” she arched an eyebrow and paused for dramatic emphasis “—it’s important to share the good
and
the bad with them.”

Barbara had slipped back into matchmaking mode.

But she was also getting tired. Cindy had been so absorbed in the woman’s tale she hadn’t noticed the weary droop of her mouth or her fading color.

It was time to bring this outing to an end.

“You know, I think I’ll round up those two.” Cindy rose and stepped into the aisle. “They could get carried away with all that equipment and leave us sitting here for hours, and I’m ready to call it a day.”

“Excellent idea, my dear. I’ll have a chat with the Lord while you’re gone.” The woman settled back in her seat and let her eyelids drift closed.

Cindy walked down the short aisle and exited into the sunlight. She scanned the construction site, spotting Scott and Jarrod in the distance, intent on examining some mammoth piece of equipment she couldn’t identify.

Rather than call out to them, she crossed the expanse, sidestepping ruts and beams and ruing the film of dust collecting on her new leather flats. She’d have a polishing job tonight.

As she drew close, she tuned into the conversation.

“...was really worried about me after Dad died. Sometimes she’d hold me so tight I thought I was going to suffocate, but it made me feel better, too, you know?”

“Yeah. Hugging is one of the best ways to let someone know you care about them. And your mom loves you a whole lot.”

“I know. I used to be afraid she might die, too.” Her son lowered his head and kicked at a clump of dirt. “When I had nightmares, she’d come in and lay with me until I went back to sleep. It was kind of crowded, but she said she didn’t mind because she was lonesome in her bed anyway. I don’t think that was true, though. Dad was gone so much, she was probably used to sleeping by herself. But maybe she needed a hug as much as I did, you know? And the nightmares finally went away.”

Now she didn’t feel as bad about letting Barbara fill her in on Scott’s background. He might not be pumping her son, but he was listening to every word Jarrod said. Just as she’d listened to Barbara.

Eavesdropping, however, was a no-no.

She drew back a few feet, out of range of their quiet conversation, and called out, “Hey! Are you guys about done?”

They turned in unison, and Toby did a happy prance, perhaps hoping the arrival of a new person would signal action rather than boring discussion.

“I think your grandmother is getting tired.” She drew closer, stopping a few feet away from Scott. “We might want to head back.”

“We were wrapping up anyway.” Scott sent her a speculative look, as if he was wondering whether she’d heard any of his conversation with Jarrod. She did her best to maintain an impassive expression.

Jarrod tugged on her hand. “Mom! He let me climb into the driver’s seat on that!” He gestured to a nearby steam shovel.

“With close supervision,” Scott added.

“I’m certain of that.” Cindy rested her hand on Jarrod’s shoulder. “Did you say thank you?”

“Yeah. Twice. And he showed me his office, over there.” He pointed at a construction trailer.

Scott grinned. “My home away from home.” He gestured toward the chapel. “Shall we?”

They started across the work zone, dodging construction paraphernalia and ruts, Jarrod and Toby charging ahead.

“Be careful!” Cindy cupped her hands around her mouth.

“He’s fine. There’s nothing dangerous between here and there. But Gram was right. This place wasn’t designed for those shoes. Watch your step.” Scott fell in beside her and took her arm.

It was a polite gesture. Nothing more. She knew that.

Yet his touch made her think of his comment about hugs.

And yearn for one of his.

She faltered, and for one brief moment she was tempted to turn toward him and step into his arms.

As if sensing her thoughts, he tightened his grip on her arm. She looked over at him, and the conflict in her heart was reflected in his eyes.

Her breath lodged in her throat.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

They slowed to a stop. The world around her ceased to exist, except for the tang of salt on her lips and the muffled crash of the surf and the warmth of the sun on her face.

“Hey! Are you guys coming?”

At Jarrod’s question, reality crashed back over her.

Scott dropped his hand. Stepped back. Cleared his throat. “We’re right behind you.”

Taking his cue, Cindy moved forward again. Telling herself to breathe.

But just when her lungs were about to kick back in, Scott took her hand and twined his fingers with hers.

This wasn’t a polite gesture, meant to protect her from stumbling.

This was a deliberate message. A testing of the waters.

And she had a choice to make.

She could pull back. Play it safe. Follow the prudent path.