Harbor Nights (11 page)

“You're too big.”

“You're too small,” he countered right back. The heart of their problem was in the open now. Norah didn't like big men for some reason he was almost afraid to know about, and he was uncomfortable around little, petite women. He felt awkward and clumsy, which he knew he wasn't, but it didn't change how he felt.

He knew exactly when the awkward feeling had developed—in his senior year, when he'd finally had the famed Porter growth spurt. His girlfriend that year had been a cheerleader who was five foot, five inches tall. In September, he'd had a good two inches on her. By the time May rolled around and they went to the prom, he had towered over her, making them both feel awkward trying to dance. Kissing gave him a crimp in his neck, and he was always watching his feet.

Over the years, he'd learned to fit smoothly into his body, but Norah's lack of height brought back all his old insecurities. “You got something against big men?”

Norah hesitated for a moment too long. He saw the spark of fear in her eyes before steely determination won out over it. “In general, no.” Norah's chin rose a fraction of an inch. “You got something against short women?”

“In general, no.” He couldn't resist teasing her back. He wanted to see her smile.

The corners of Norah's mouth kicked up. “Fine.”

He nodded. “Fine. Now that we have that settled. . .”

“Yes?”

The caution in her eyes tore at his heart. Norah had lied. She was still leery of big men, even though she was putting on a very brave front. He wanted to ask her out for dinner, something better than pizza this time, but he held his tongue. He didn't think Norah would accept, and then the rest of the afternoon would be spent with an awkwardness between them. That was the last thing he wanted. Norah needed more time to get used to him. To his size. “Where do you want the recliner? Over there?” He nodded to the only logical space facing the portable television in the room.

“Please.” Norah picked up a lamp and set it on the end table next to the couch. “I can't thank you enough, Ned. Without you, I'd still be struggling to get the bookcases into the house and up the stairs.”

“No problem.” He walked over to her desk and wrote down his cell number. “Next time you or your mom buy something big, heavy, or just awkward, call me. I'll stop by on the way home from work and bring it in for you.” He knew his father or even Matthew would be more than glad to help Norah or her mom, but he wasn't going to leave their numbers. He wanted Norah to call him.

Norah glanced at the sticky note he stuck to the center of her desk. “Thanks.”

Ned could tell by the way she wouldn't look at him that she was the one now feeling uncomfortable. “The room cleans up pretty well.” Of course, if he had to spend any more time in it, he'd suffer from claustrophobia. He much preferred his office or even his living room with its large screen television and roaring fire in the winter.

Norah glanced around the room. “I guess you can say it's cozy.”

Now that all of the furniture was in place, there wasn't anything left for him to do. “Well, I better get going. The grass isn't going to cut itself.”

“Have I been keeping you from cutting it?”

“Nope. Did mine this morning.” He gathered up the last two empty boxes. “Figured I come over and do my parents' yard since they are away this weekend.”

“Anybody ever tell you you're sweet?”

He tried not to cringe. “Sweet, huh?” The kiss of death to any romantic relationship. He didn't want to be sweet. Nice would have been better. Sexy, the ultimate. “I think my Aunt Beatrice called me that when she pinched my checks when I was about five.” He carried the empty boxes downstairs and stacked them on the back porch where Norah had piled all the other trash.

Norah followed him out onto the porch. “Thanks again, Ned.”

“You're welcome.” He really wanted to stay, but he couldn't think of an excuse. Norah's grass had been recently cut, and the flower gardens were shaping up nicely. “See you around.” He stepped off the porch and headed for his parents' garage.

“Ned?”

He turned around. “Yeah?”

“Your Aunt Bea is a pretty good judge of character.”

He chuckled all the way to the garage. Aunt Bea had married a con artist who had taken her for just about everything she owned. The story had a happy ending though. Aunt Bea had fallen in love with the prosecuting attorney, and they had been married for over twenty-five years now.

 

 

“So you really don't mind taking care of Zsa Zsa for the day?” Joanna looked at Norah, who was lying across Joanna's bed flipping through a garden magazine. The Pomeranian in question was weaving her way in and out of Joanna's feet, getting all excited thinking she was going somewhere. Today, the dog was staying home.

“I already told you, Mom, that I didn't.” Norah tossed the magazine aside. “You and Karl have a great time in Bangor checking out all the competition.”

“We aren't checking out the competition.” Joanna frowned at herself in the full-length mirror. “I just mentioned to Karl that I wanted to see other galleries to see how they are set up, and he offered to take me into Bangor where there are a couple.” Did the off-white slacks make her butt look big? Maybe she should change back into the navy.

“Karl sounds like a very nice man.” Norah reached over the side of the bed and picked up Zsa Zsa.

“Would you like to come with us? Karl wouldn't mind.” She slipped on her shoes and studied the whole effect in the mirror. Not bad for a middle-aged woman.

“No way am I playing third wheel on my mother's date.” Norah snorted. “Besides, who will watch Princess here?” She flicked a finger at Zsa Zsa's blue bow.

“It's not a date.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Norah laughed and indulged the dog by rubbing her belly. “Believe me, Karl thinks it's a date.”

“How would you know? You've never met the man.” Joanna picked up a lightweight cardigan and her purse. She was ready to go with five minutes to spare.

“Am I going to meet him this morning?” Norah seemed curious.

“Of course you are. What did you think? That he would sit out front and blow the horn till I came out?” Joanna wondered what her daughter was going to think of Karl. His first impression was somewhat disarming. With his loud shirts, long hair and beard, and sandals, one definitely got the wrong impression of him. “You know he's an artist, right?” Norah was going to flip when she saw the diamond stud earring in his ear.

“Yep, the one who does the wood sculptures down at the gallery.” Norah noticed her hesitancy. “Why?”

“He just looks like an artist, that's all.” Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. “Can I ask you a question and get an honest answer?”

“I'm not sixteen, Mom. You can't ground me if you don't like the answer, so shoot.”

“What do you think of me dating?” There, she'd said it. She was dating Karl James. In no way could anyone construe this just as friends having lunch in the back booth at Krup's. She wanted her daughter's approval, but more importantly, she wanted Norah to see that she was fine. She was moving on with her life. That it was okay to move on.

“I think it's sweet.” Norah grinned. “Now, don't get me wrong. I haven't met him yet, but if you like him, that's all I need to know. I trust your judgment.”

“You do?” That was something she'd been hoping to hear.

“Of course I do.” Norah sat up on the bed and plopped Zsa Zsa in her lap.

“Do you believe me?” She sat down on the comfortable reading chair she had placed in her bedroom and stared at her daughter. Norah was a beautiful woman, and it wasn't just a mother's prejudiced opinion. She just wished her daughter wouldn't dye her hair that bright a color of red. Norah had gorgeous naturally brown hair.

“When haven't I?”

“The day I told you I'd stayed with your father all those years because I loved him.” She knew her daughter hadn't believed those words then, and she doubted she would believe them now. “Your father was a very good man ninety-nine percent of the time.”

“Yeah, he's great. He only smacked his wife around one percent of the time.”

Joanna cringed at the truth. “Yes, he did.” They had gone over this before and probably would go over it again. “Your father only got that way when he drank.” Of course, during the last years of their marriage, Vince had been drinking more than normal. It had been a terrible time in her life.

“Why didn't you leave him the first time he hit you?” Norah looked at her, and tears filled her eyes. “It was because of me, right?”

“Never.” She needed to make her daughter see the truth. “I love you, Norah. Make no mistake about it, I would have walked and have taken you with me if he had ever raised a hand to you. You weren't the reason I stayed. I stayed with your father because I loved him.”

“Until the night I happened by and caught him smacking you.” Norah blinked back the tears. “The night he turned around and hit me because I was trying to protect you.”

“With that one blow, Vince killed whatever love I still felt for him. He knew never to touch you.” The nightmares about that night had finally stopped plaguing her. Vince had hit his own daughter. He had done the unforgivable. There had been no going back after that.

“But did you really have to attack him like that, Mom?” Norah managed a small smile. Time was finally healing that wound.

“He smacked you so hard you fell down.” She gazed at her daughter's cheek and could still picture the black and blue mark his hand had left. “It was well worth the broken collarbone just to clobber him over the head with that lamp.” She wasn't a violent person by nature, but something had snapped inside of her when Norah had hit the ground. No one, and she meant no one, laid a hand on her child. It didn't matter that Norah had been twenty-two years old at the time; she was still her baby.

Even today, she had a hard time believing she had smashed one of her good table lamps over her husband's head, but it had been the closest thing she could grab. Vince hadn't appreciated the headache and had given her a shove. She had ended up hitting the wall and cracking her collarbone. By the time she had shaken the stars out of her eyes, Norah had been on the phone to the police.

The neighbors had had a great show that night. She hoped they had enjoyed it because she never spent another night in that house. After a trip to the emergency room, Norah had taken her back to her apartment. Life, the selling of the house, and the divorce had all happened from there.

“Norah”—she leaned in closer and cradled her daughter's hands in between her own—“not all men hit women.”

“Some do.”

“Most don't.” She squeezed Norah's hands and felt the rings her daughter liked to wear. “I need for you to stop feeling guilty. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about. I willingly and freely stayed with your father. It was my decision, and I was an adult at the time.” She didn't know how else to express herself to Norah. Her daughter was carrying around a heavy burden of guilt. For some reason, Norah thought she should have been protecting her mother all those years.

“What will you do if a man ever hits you again?”

Was Norah afraid she would go right back into an abusive relationship? She knew that some women did, but she wasn't some woman. “Pray that the first object I pick up is heavy enough to do some damage, and then call the police and press charges.” If she could find the courage to press charges against her husband of twenty-five years, she could do it to anyone. “You don't have to worry about that, sweetie.”

Norah gazed into her eyes for a long moment. She wasn't sure what her daughter saw there, but whatever it was, it seemed to satisfy her. “Okay.” Norah smiled. “So you like this Karl guy?”

The sound of the doorbell ringing caused them both to jump. Joanna stood up; reached for her sweater and purse, which she had placed on the end of the bed; and chuckled. “Let's just say he's different.”

Norah followed her out of the bedroom. “How?”

“You'll see.” She tugged at her blouse and glanced in the mirror by the front door. This was as good as she got. She opened the door and smiled at Karl. “Come on in, and meet Norah.”

Karl James stepped into the living room.

She could tell that he not only had dressed up for the occasion, but that he was also nervous. Karl had on a nice pair of khakis and another Hawaiian shirt that had only tans and green palm trees, and he was actually wearing shoes. “Karl, this is my daughter, Norah.”

“Hi, Norah, your mom is always talking about you.” Karl reached out a hand.

Norah shook his work-roughened hand and grinned. Her mother was dating a Jerry Garcia look-alike! No wonder Ned had wanted to know if she had met Karl yet. “Nice to finally meet you, Karl.”

She glanced over at her mother who seemed anxious and winked. Her mom relaxed and smiled back. “You two behave yourself up in Bangor today.”

Karl glanced between mother and daughter. “You could come with us if you like. There's plenty of room.”

“Thanks, but Zsa Zsa and I are planning on spending a relaxing Saturday at home.” The dog wiggled and squirmed in her arms until Karl reached out and lightly scratched her behind an ear.

“If you're sure.” Karl glanced over at Joanna. “Are you ready?”

“As I ever can be.” Joanna seemed hesitant. “Are you sure you'll be okay?”