Lakeside Sweetheart (13 page)

Chapter Thirteen

F
riday morning. Vanessa yawned and glanced around the house. She still had a long way to go, but things were shaping up. She had another week until the church rummage sale and her estate sale. Then she'd be forced to fling the doors of this home open to the public.

And watch part of her life go out the door. But maybe that was for the best. Rory had kissed her Wednesday, and then he'd told her he was sorry, just up and walked away. She hadn't slept much in the last couple of nights.

So what did she do now? He'd made her care and now he couldn't deal? Or had he stopped things before they went any further because he didn't want to hurt her? Or watch her leave?

They'd hit a snag. And she thought she knew what that snag was all about. He was reliving his past, too. A past that involved loving and losing another woman. Vanessa figured that if she hadn't come along, he'd have stayed trapped behind that brilliant facade for the rest of his life.

“My turn to minister to you, Preacher.”

But right now, she had to finish up things here. The busywork would help her sort through her feelings for Rory much in the same way she'd sorted through her own secrets for the last few weeks. In the meantime, she hoped he'd come back around.

“So not fair. So wrong.” Vanessa shook her head, determined to stop mumbling and get on with things.

He'd been patient with her. She would do the same for him.

Staring at the big, cluttered kitchen, she wished she'd cleared out this room already. But when she'd started, she'd crashed and burned out on the sidewalk with Rory watching her. That day, she didn't know him well enough to tell him her fears and concerns or why she'd become so upset. She wasn't sure she could tell him anything more now either. But this kitchen represented so much of the struggle between Vanessa and her mother. The silent meals. The shouting matches. The clashing of dishes. The burned food. The lost hope. This would be another hurdle. One more thing to clean up and tuck away.

And then she'd have to tackle the last bedroom. Her old bedroom. She had a lot to overcome before she put this house on the market. Up until now, Vanessa had believed all of her nightmares were holding her back. But it was more than that now.

Vanessa thought about Rory and how he'd tried to open up to her the other night. And he'd kissed her. That first kiss had left a lasting impression on Vanessa, like an imprint that marked her as cherished and special. They'd kissed several times, there in the rickety old glider, until he'd bolted like a forest animal on the run. Rory brought her the kind of security and comfort she'd only hoped for in her dreams. Now, he needed to feel that same kind of security. Or did he already?

“What are
you
afraid of, Rory?”

How could she ever forget Rory and his kisses? Could she make him see that he needed her as much as she needed him?

Because daydreams had replaced a lot of her nightmares. Daydreams of being with Rory, which seemed impossible. So here she stood, wondering what to do next.

Maybe she should ask Rory how to handle all of these mixed-up, scary feelings. Marla had urged her to do that from the beginning. As a minister, he was bound to keep what she told him between them, and he'd listened to a lot of her rants already.

But as a friend, as a man she was attracted to, he should be the last person she needed to confide in. He had opened up to Vanessa about his past until the kissing had taken over and stopped the soul sharing. Then he'd practically run away screaming. But she needed to hear everything about him, good and bad. She needed to be honest with him, too.

Rory had become too important to her, even after she'd fought against her growing feelings for him.

Giving up, she called Marla. “Rory kissed me.”

A soft squeal and then a giggle. “This is interesting.”

“Yes, but he took himself back across the street after he kissed me. Couldn't get away fast enough.”

“Did you two fight?”

“No. We kissed. A lot.” Vanessa sipped on her bottle of water while she stood at the big window and stared over at the church. “I...I finally gave in to all these feelings and now...he's hiding out over there in his sanctuary.”

She heard a cash register dinging. Marla was at work. Vanessa wished she had a cupcake.

“Have you talked to him since the kissing session?”

“No.” Vanessa turned away from the window. “No. I'm giving him time to think about things.” Then she took a deep breath. “So you don't know what happened? In his past?”

Marla didn't speak for a minute. Then Vanessa heard, “Thank you, Mr. Houston. Give Miss Becky a hug for me.” A customer. Marla's Marvelous Desserts stayed busy.

“I should let you get back to work,” Vanessa said, the image of white icing covering rich chocolate enticing her.

“No. I'm on my way back to the office,” Marla replied. “Now, I can talk without my gossip-loving staff listening in.”

Vanessa took in some air and then rushed on. “So you do know something?”

“No. I only know that he served at a small church near Crestview before he enlisted in the army and went through training to become a chaplain.”

“Did he serve over there with any of his current buddies?”

“No,” Marla said. “They all met here, remember. He was army and Alec and Blain were marines—even though I called Alec Soldier Boy when we first met, but now that's our special joke with each other. And Hunter, well, no one talks much about what Hunter did. Some kind of black ops, maybe.”

Vanessa realized she had a lot to learn about Rory's friends. But she needed to learn more about him first. “He said he'd loved someone and it ended badly.”

“Preacher?” Marla seemed as surprised as Vanessa had been. “He's never mentioned that around me. Are you sure?”

“I know—hard to believe. Yes, that's what he said. I think he's buried his feelings so deep, no one can find them. Not even him.” Vanessa turned back to the window. “And now that I'm here and he kissed me...well, something is sure bubbling to the surface. But he's having a hard time. He pushed me to open up, and I'm getting better at talking about my life and now he's the one who's clamming up. Or shutting down. Or whatever you want to call it.”

“I'm glad you're here,” Marla said. “You sound stronger every day and, well, we've all been praying for Rory to find a soul mate, someone to love him. He has so much love to give. It sounds as if you and he have something, Vanessa. Don't give up on him. Don't give up on yourself either.”

“I believe he cares,” Vanessa said. “And I'm beginning to care about him. More than I want to care. I don't know if I'm worthy of his love.”

“You are,” Marla said. “Rory needs you, and God wants you to feel worthy, too. You and Rory could be so wonderful together.”

After they talked a few more minutes, Vanessa hung up, more confused than ever. But maybe Marla was right. If God had a plan for their lives, she prayed He'd reveal it soon. Because it would be so hard to fall for Rory and then have to leave him.

* * *

“What's up with you?”

Rory turned from the porch railing and the view of the full moon hanging over the bay to find Hunter Lawson propped up against a door frame at the AWOL camp house, his face in the shadows.

“I'm admiring the moon,” Rory replied to Hunter's question. “What's up with you?” And did he really want to hear the answer to that question?

“I'm wondering why the man who planned this grand bachelor party is staring up at the moon. We've got pizza and wings, cold drinks and old movies. And you promised games.”

Hunter rarely said more than one-word comments and now this. The third degree?

“It's all there,” Rory said, turning to shove past Hunter's stoic stare. “Hey, Blain, want us to help you make a wedding dress out of toilet paper?”

Blain Kent stayed on the couch but lifted one dark eyebrow. “I think I'll have to pass on that one, brother.”

Rory grinned. “Barbara said that's what they do at girlie bridal showers. Just asking. We could make you a duct-tape tuxedo.”

Alec got up to get another slice of pizza. “What are we supposed to do at bachelor parties, anyway?”

“Not what they do in Vegas,” Rory said, nodding toward the movie they'd been watching. “This is a regular get-together before Blain here goes off the market. Same as we do every week but with more feeling.”

Hunter grunted. “Two down and one to go.” He pointed his can of soda toward Rory. “'Cause I'm thinking you've got it bad, man.”

“You left yourself off that list,” Rory retorted.

“I don't have any aspirations on that account,” the Okie replied in a steady, sure voice.

Blain and Alec glanced at each other and then back to Rory.

“Do
you
have aspirations, Preacher?” Blain asked, his dark eyes now full of interest.

“I aspire to turn up the music on this party,” Rory said. He'd been looking forward to this for a while now, and they'd planned it a week before the wedding since Blain had a lot going on next week. But his heart wasn't in it. And he could tell that his buddies could tell. He wanted this to be a festive, joyous night, since the wedding would be the Sunday after the rummage sale.

Next weekend. Vanessa might leave after that.

Or she'd probably go sooner, after the way he'd left things the other night. The way he'd left her.

“Let's go for a boat ride,” Alec said, getting up to throw away his paper plate. “Full moon. Nice wind. Good for the soul.”

Rory watched Alec. The limp he'd sustained due to being injured while he'd been deployed a couple of years ago was just about gone. Even the scar on Alec's face was less noticeable now. But Rory knew some scars never went away.

“Okay, a boat ride.” He nodded. “That was next on the agenda anyway.”

Blain got up and finished his drink and then poked Rory in the chest. “And while we're out there, maybe we'll hold you under until you tell us what's on your mind.”

An hour later, they sat rocking in Alec's sleek boat, the moon laughing down on them while a balmy breeze moved over the blue-black, soothing waves. So far, so good. They hadn't dunked him yet.

Hunter sat off to the side with his legs propped up, looking back at the shore.

Blain and Rory sat opposite each other on the wraparound seats while Alec stayed at the helm.

“Are we having fun now?” Rory asked.

“Yep.” Hunter didn't even turn around.

“More fun than a kangaroo on a trampoline,” Blain replied.

Rory decided this was a good place to lay it on the line. “I kissed Vanessa the other night.”

“An aspiration if ever I heard one,” Alec said through a grin. He twisted around on his seat. “So why aren't we celebrating?”

Rory rubbed a hand down his face. “I enjoyed kissing her. Too much.”

“Is there such a thing as too much kissing?” Blain asked. “I sure hope not.”

Alec sat still. “Go on, Preacher.”

“I think I'm falling for her, but we have a lot to work through.”

Blain and Alec both lifted their drinks in a mock toast.

“Been there, got married,” Alec said.

“Been there, about to get married,” Blain added.

“Never been there. Ain't gonna happen,” Hunter said into the wind.

Rory loved their dry wit. “I was married once.”

The boat stopped rocking.

Hunter turned around.

The moon became a spotlight.

Alec twisted away from the wheel and came back to the stern. “Say that again.”

Rory couldn't take back the confession, so he went on. “I was young. Just out of seminary. About to start my career at a small-town church. We were happy. And then I was alone and I struggled and then because I was so angry, I joined the army and thought I'd take out my frustrations. And we all know how that went. I found my calling again, but I'm still alone. And I feel guilty for kissing one woman when I can't let go of another one.”

“What happened?” Blain asked. “I mean, to the first woman.”

Even now, Rory couldn't say the words. “Life happened.”

He left it at that, and his friends left him to his silence.

Finally, Hunter grunted. “It's always something, man.” But he touched Rory on the arm before he turned his face back to the sea.

Alec moved back to the cockpit and cranked the boat, and they listened to her purr for a few seconds. “I suggest you take advantage of those kisses, my friend,” he said over his shoulder to Rory. “Don't run away from a second chance. Turn back toward her and fight. You're a fighter, Preacher. But you have a different weapon than most. You are more of a warrior than anyone I know.”

They went silent again for a few minutes.

Blain nodded and let out a hoot. “Well, since I'm the one about to turn toward the woman that
I
love, how about we take this baby for a spin and see what she's got?”

Rory finally grinned, and strangely, he felt better. “Let's go.”

Hunter grunted again. “Glad we had this chat.”

And they were off into the night, laughing and talking about all the things they rarely talked about. Including women.

When they slowed at the marina, Alec cut the engine again.

And Rory finally told them the story of his young wife and her death.

Chapter Fourteen

H
e was giving her the space she needed, and now she missed having him around. Saturday and Sunday had come and gone. A long, silent weekend that Vanessa had tried to fill with work and cleaning up. She'd planned to attend church Sunday, hoping she'd hear some words of wisdom from the man she'd come to admire as a minister and as a friend. She felt so alone here in this big, rambling house. Instead, she'd gone for an early-morning walk around the lake, and then she'd come home and talked to her lawyer on the phone and processed more shipping instructions for some of the items she would be keeping.

Exhausted, she'd curled up on the big sofa early in the evening, hoping to get some sleep. But that hadn't worked. So she'd stayed up late last night working on the photos for her website. Now she was exhausted and cranky. Monday morning had never looked or felt so bad.

She glanced at her mother's journal lying on the big plank dining table. What if what she needed to hear was inside that journal? Why couldn't she open it?

Because the truth might be in there and Vanessa wasn't sure she was ready for the complete truth. It seemed too intimate and invasive to read her mother's journal and hear Cora's innermost thoughts. Her mother's accusations could be there, inked beside what they had for dinner and what she was wearing on her latest date. Vanessa couldn't bear to view the horror of her time in this house with Gregory Pardue, all spelled out in black and white. And yet, she needed to sit down and read the whole thing.

Didn't the Bible have a verse about the truth setting you free? Vanessa suddenly wanted to be free. She needed to be free if she wanted a chance with Rory, didn't she?

Touching a hand to the thick, worn journal, she shook her head. “Not yet.”

She'd open it tomorrow after she got back from Kandi's house. Wanda had called her and set a time for her visit with Kandi. “And dinner,” Wanda had added. “We'd love to have you stay and eat with us.”

The last thing Vanessa wanted right now was to sit down with a big, rowdy family and eat a meal. But saying no would be impolite. The Peppermons were a wonderful couple who truly sacrificed for the sake of helping children in need.

She reminded herself that if she'd had someone like that in her life growing up, she might be a different person today.

You do have someone like that now.

You have Marla and Alec and Aunt Hattie and Marla's parents. You have the Peppermons and Miss Fanny and you have Rory
.

But she wouldn't have Rory or any of the other people who'd befriended her once she left here. She'd go back to New Orleans, and she'd be okay. She had friends there, and she had her work to keep her occupied.

But now that she'd experienced Millbrook Lake with different people, in a different time, she knew being okay—just okay—wouldn't ever be good enough again. Nor would working day and night. Nice, but not amazing.

That about summed it up. This place had turned into something amazing. She could almost be happy here. But she couldn't stay here, of course.

She'd miss the lake and kayaking, the ducks quacking and the seagulls cawing. She'd miss watching sailboats glide by or hearing speed boats charging along or children laughing in the park and dogs barking in return. Miss Fanny calling to her across the way, always with a smile and a kind word of encouragement and the beautiful music when the church choir was practicing. She'd miss the sweet smell of flowers and the earthy smell of the lake.

She'd miss that little white church across the street and the man who took care of everyone but himself.

I could be the one.

I could be the person who takes care of Rory
.

No. Bad idea. Vanessa started digging through cabinets and dragging out old cookware and aged baking dishes. She'd never been one for settling down, married with children.

She wasn't maternal enough. She didn't want to turn out like her mother. She didn't want to bring a child into the world because she knew firsthand that little children weren't always protected in this world.

You'd never be like that
.
You'd be a good mother
.

She could tell herself that all day long, but Vanessa would never believe it.

Gregory Pardue had told her something she'd never forgotten. “You're just like your mother. A big tease. A big dreamer. You aren't fit to be anyone's girlfriend or wife. You should plan on being alone all your life because no decent man will want you and you certainly won't be able to take care of any children.”

He'd spouted all of those ugly things to her after he'd tried to molest her, in her room, here at this house.

A man of God, trying to molest his wife's only daughter.

Vanessa sat in the middle of the kitchen floor and stared at a scratch mark on the old cabinet door. And like all the pots and pans and old dish towels spilling out of the cabinets, her memories came tumbling out, cluttered and chaotic, cloying and stifling, much in the same way this house was beginning to stifle her with its secrets.

But she looked up and saw a brilliant ray of sunshine hitting on an old wall plaque that she'd never noticed before.

And her heart stopped and started beating in a fast-moving lift that echoed with each pulse inside her head.

“He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.”

Psalm 147, Verse 3.

The tiny little square plaque had been varnished to a bright luster, but the black words were written in calligraphy on a stark white piece of canvas. Vanessa had no doubt that her mother had made this little sign and hung it there.

Her mother, who had never darkened the doors of a church. Even when she'd been married to a man who claimed to be a minister.

Vanessa got up and grabbed the plaque off the wall and held it close. Then she turned it over and saw the initials on the back.

CDT. Cora Donovan Tucker. Cora had created this after she'd married Richard Tucker.

Her mother had died alone and brokenhearted in a nursing home. But she'd been brokenhearted long before she became ill.

“Everyone left you,” Vanessa said. “We all abandoned you.”

Vanessa sat down and cried, the little plaque held tightly to her heart. Then she put the plaque back in its place and turned to find her mother's journal.

“I think it's time to clear away the real clutter, Mama.”

The clutter that had to have been documented in this journal. Vanessa knew she needed to read this journal, good and bad, in order to heal her own broken heart.

She called Rory. “Will you come over? I...I need your help.”

He immediately agreed. “Of course. Give me five minutes.”

Rory was a decent man. He would help her deal with this. She needed to remember that. It could never work between them, no matter how much her heart ached with each day that passed. But he could help her right now, in this moment, when she needed him the most. And when it was time for her to go, she could go with his kindness and his kisses embedded in her memories.

Good memories replacing bad ones. She'd have that at least.

“I'm out for the day,” Rory told Barbara as he hurried out of his office.

“Did someone die?”

He turned and shook his head. “No, but I think someone is having a crisis of faith. I have to go.”

“I hope everything works out for her,” Barbara said, guessing who that someone had to be. “Sending prayers to cover both of you.”

“Thanks.” He could use those prayers. He'd certainly been doing some serious soul searching himself. But right now, he hurried across the street to Vanessa's house and knocked on the door. After his full disclosure on the boat the other night, his friends had encouraged him to tell Vanessa everything.

Now Rory prayed for the courage to do that.

She opened the door in a slow, cautious way, one hand hiding her face from the late morning sun. Rory took one look at her and pulled her into his arms. “What's wrong?”

She burst into sobs and pulled back, trying to wipe at her tears in a frantic way. “Everything. I... I...need to get out of this house.”

“I know just the place,” he said. “Do you trust me?”

She bobbed her head and took on a gritty, determined expression.

“I'll get my truck.”

She nodded again. “I'll meet you out front.”

Rory ran back across the street to the garage apartment and quickly cranked his old truck. Soon he was parked in the driveway of Vanessa's house. When Miss Fanny came out on her porch and waved to him, he waved back but didn't go over to talk to her.

Instead, he ran up the steps to Vanessa's house. She opened the door before he could knock again. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She had a big tote bag with her, and she held something else in her hand, too.

Her mother's journal.

“Where are we going?” Vanessa asked Rory a few minutes later. She'd stopped crying, but her eyes were red rimmed and swollen.

“A special place,” he explained. “It's private and secluded. No one will bother us there.”

She nodded and watched the signs. “I haven't gone anywhere outside of the city limits since I got here. Sorry I fell apart, but I...I needed to get out of that house for a while.”

He took one of her hands in his. “Understandable since you've been sorting and cleaning for three weeks now. And you haven't cried a lot in all of that time.”

“Has it been three weeks?” Her surprise turned to resolve. “I have to get this done.”

“Are you in such a hurry to leave?” he asked, wishing she wouldn't go at all. Wishing he hadn't left her sitting there the other night.

“Not so much now.” She gave him a watery stare. “I need a couple of hours away from that place, and then I'll get back and finish up. I only have the kitchen and a couple of other rooms left.”

But she'd need more than a couple of hours, Rory thought. He'd stall her all afternoon. She also needed rest, and she needed to let go and mourn.

When he pulled the truck up to the rustic square beach house that sat high up on pilings near the waters of the big bay, Vanessa glanced around and then back to him.

“What place is this, Rory?”

“We call it AWOL,” he said. “This is the camp house I own with Alec, Blain and Hunter.”

“I thought no women were allowed here. That's what Marla told me once.”

“Darlin', we seem to be breaking that rule a lot lately. It's okay. We're only allowed to bring very special women out here. Alec brought Marla here and Blain brought Rikki here.”

He almost added that they'd gone on to become couples and...they were making lives together now. But Rory didn't think Vanessa was ready for that. He wasn't sure right now if he was ready for that either. But he did owe her the truth, at least.

He got out and came around to open her door. She turned to stare up at him. But her question was somber. “Do you think I'm special?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said. Then he kissed her on the forehead. “I think you're amazing.”

She didn't move. She sat there staring up at him, her eyes clear now. “I'm not all that amazing.”

Rory hugged her close. “Let's get you inside so I can feed you and pamper you and...listen to you.”

Vanessa reached up a hand to touch his face. “You really are a true minister, Rory.”

He nodded. “Thanks, and I'm thinking that today I'll certainly be earning that title, right?”

She dropped her hand away. “Yes. You're exactly what I need today.” Then she took his hand and followed him up the path to the house.