Sweet Waters (17 page)

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Authors: Julie Carobini

BOOK: Sweet Waters
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Wind with an agenda greets the night, its gusts tossing the loose shutters over and over against our cottage's outer walls. The racket unnerves me, rattling my already shaky emotions. It's just a dinner date, and yet I'm drawn to this man whom I hardly know in a way that's so very different from with Trent. Trent and I, well, we were compatible and comfortable, everything I'd always thought a good relationship should be. We'd come to expect certain things about each other, and those things—like Friday night dinners at the Dexton Café and Sunday afternoon bowling—were my weekly lifeline. Now as I think about the stirrings of anticipation over my date with Josh, I wonder if that old lifeline was actually a crutch.
I roll my shoulders and take another peek into the mirror. After much debate, the girls talked me into wearing the shapely and ubercomfortable denims I'd bought, despite the fact that I nearly fainted at the price. Suddenly it all became very clear: my bum never had a chance in bargain jeans. Although the girls rooted for the clingy blue halter, I opted instead for the sleeveless in lavender sateen. Hey, a girl's got to know when to be decisive. That's what Eliza always says. Besides, depending on how things go, that halter just may find its way out of my closet one day.
The bell rings and Mel answers the door. Josh's tall frame fills the doorway as she backs up to let him in, and I step across the room, not quite used to the heels I borrowed from my younger sister. When Josh's eyes light up, I'm won over—although truly, it would have taken much less than that.
“Hi. I'd like you to meet my sister, Mel.”
He offers her a hello, and she looks him over thoroughly. “You kids behave yourselves.”
He winks. “I'm not making any promises.” Both his mouth and eyes greet me with a smile. He leans close, as if intending to greet me with a kiss. My eyes flutter.
His voice is low, deep. “You look . . . you look incredible. Ready to go?”
I nod as he offers me his arm, and whisks me past the girls, down the steps, and quickly into his truck. In that brief moment, the wind undoes every bit of effort I'd given to my hair. The relaxed bun slides down the side of my head and hangs there in an unforgiving knot. As Josh slides into the driver's seat, I work quickly to repair the damage.
He turns to me, his eyes watchful. Nerves have taken hold of my breath, and I can't speak. “Here, let me help you.” With a quick and deft hand, he reaches past me, gently brushing my cheek with a warm touch. In one motion, he removes my clip, then carefully loosens the bound strands until they rest on my shoulders. The moment's suspended, and Josh's gaze travels over my face until he finds my eyes. “There.”
I lean against the seat, soaking in the newness of this sensation. Palm trees bow in the wind, and a swath of fuchsia jets across the evening sky. Josh's voice folds into the silence.
“I haven't seen you in over a week. Tell me what I've missed. Have you had a chance to tour the area much?”
“No, not really. Between my job at the inn and Mel's arrival, there hasn't been as much extra time as I'd thought. Oh, but I went to church on Sunday.”
He turns to me, his eyes finding mine before looking back to the road. “Coastal Christian?”
“Yes. Mikey introduced me to his mother and sister.”
Josh exhales. “His father wasn't there?”
“No, he was sick, Mikey said.”
“Poor guy's been battling an immune disorder. He's been really sick lately.”
“He said it so nonchalantly. I had no idea his father was
that
ill.”
“It's tough on the family, but they're faithful.”
“That's so good. He's their husband and father, so of course they should stay faithful to him, no matter what.”
Josh rubs his chin with one hand, his other still securely on the steering wheel. He glances at me. “Loyalty has its place, but I just meant that they're faithful to God, despite how bleak things have been for them.”
The truck slows as we turn into a parking lot just off the road that borders the sea. Josh's comment about Mikey's family stays with me, as we pull into a spot and he switches the engine off.
Was Josh implying that going to church is a sure sign of someone's faithfulness to God?
Because if that were true, no one in the Sweet family would be considered faithful. I've never thought all that much about church or religion, but I've believed, ever since Daddy died, that he's looking after all of us . . . from somewhere. I couldn't stand to think otherwise.
Josh opens his door and holds it there while leaning toward me. “I'll come around and get you.” As he makes a dash through the barreling wind for my side of the truck, I resolve to push aside anything that would dampen an otherwise enchanting evening.
Once inside Moonstones, I fluff my hair while we wait to be seated. Josh watches me, his gaze taking in my newly relaxed hairstyle. I haven't worn my hair down in public in . . . well, I can't recall the last time. Josh's hand finds the small of my back as we follow the hostess to a row of booths on a raised platform for better views of the ocean. She seats us in the one farthest from the open walkway, and I make a mental note to thank her on the way out.
“Ah. Finally.” Josh rests against the seat back.
Despite the setting sun, we're close enough to see whitecaps on the water. “What a beautiful view. You picked the perfect place—thank you.”
Josh takes a quick glance at the stunning sea and wrinkles his nose before turning his attention back to me. “It's all right.”
“All right? It's amazing! More beautiful than I imagined, and certainly more than I ever remembered.”
His wide grin gives him away.
“You're teasing.”
He leans forward, leaning on crossed arms. When he looks up again at me, those eyes dancing, I think I might just melt into the booth. “So, tell me. What do you remember about Otter Bay, Miss Sweet?”
A busboy serves us water, and I take a sip, along with a cool breath. “So much, yet so little really. I remember my dad taking me to the tide pools, and my mom standing on the cliff—probably corralling Mel.” My laughter is light. “I'd hoped to find our old house, but it's long gone. It looks like someone razed it, bought the lot next door, then built a mansion across both properties. Progress, I guess. But I still remember the feel of the street—that's one of the reasons I was so excited by the location of our rental. We lived over on Pelican Place, and it's got a similar incline to the one on Fogcatcher.”
“No family out here?”
I shake my head.
“Or old friends?”
I begin to shake my head again, but slow myself when I remember Burton, and unfortunately, Peg. Our waiter appears, ready to recite the heady list of specials of the night. “May I get you started with something from the bar?”
Josh gestures to me. “I'm happy with water for now. Thank you.”
Josh orders himself a Coke, and after our waiter leaves, it's my turn for questions, and I opt to shift subjects. “Do you like fighting fires?”
“No one's ever really asked me about it that way. People usually either treat me like a saint—or a pyromaniac.” One corner of his mouth quirks when he smiles. “I'm kidding, but to answer your question, it's a rush—facing fires head on. I don't like the fact that danger happens, but I wouldn't be doing this kind of work if I didn't love it. Besides”—he gives me a teasing wink—“the uniform works for me.”
A picture forces its way into my mind. He's bare-chested except for those thick-strapped fireman suspenders, grinning and camera-ready like he's Mr. August. I laugh nervously. “I'd have to agree.”
“I like a woman who's not afraid to be honest.”
“Are you ready to order?” Our waiter reappears, serves Josh his soda, and listens to our orders without writing down a thing, just like on
Quartz Point.
Who knew that in real life, waiters memorize orders? I'm beginning to think I've lived a sheltered life.
Menus gone, I lean forward. “I met Beth at your church last week.”
Josh glances away, ultimately making eye contact with his water glass, his mouth suddenly grim.
When he doesn't respond, I continue. “It's okay. Holly told me about the fire at Beth's house and how you . . . saved her. I've never met a true hero before.”
Josh looks up. “I'm
not
a hero. I just followed my instincts, and thankfully, she got out.”
“Holly says you were the only one around, and if you hadn't dashed into that house then . . . oh, the thought terrifies me. That baby could've lost his mother, but you—”I shake my head—“you changed the course.”
“I just did my job. Nothing heroic about it, just excellent timing. You're right, though, that it could've been more tragic. Terribly. Not something any of us likes to think about.”
I straighten. “Sorry . . . I didn't mean to bring up bad memories.”
His lips curl into a smile. “Getting back to you, there's got to be someone around who lived here back when your family did. One of these days you'll run into them, although chances are you've changed some.”
“I've heard I was somehow more adventurous. Hard to believe.” I laugh, but it bothers me not to tell him that there are at least two people in town who knew my family. I haven't even talked much about it to the girls, but I've wanted to protect them from the ugliness. Nor do I tell him that, if Mel hadn't showed up when she did, I may have packed up Camille and myself and headed home.
Josh sits across from me, his collared shirt open several buttons below his neck. I look away. Missouri would be one lonely place right now. Josh's words cut through my wayward thoughts.
I like a woman who's not afraid to be honest.
Maybe he's the one objective person I can share my secret with, the one who's able to help me figure out how to restore my father's name.
“You know when you asked if we had any old friends still here? There are a couple of people who've, um, told me they remember us.”
“Really? Who? Maybe I know them.”
“Well, one is a man from church. Burton Sims? He stopped by the inn the other day and introduced himself.”
Josh grins. “Burton's a good guy. I bet he guzzled a load of that free coffee, didn't he?”
I smile through my trepidation. “As a matter of fact, yes. He did.”
Josh nods. “He's one for the coffee and donut room at church. When service is over—or even before it begins some days—you'll find him there. That's great. I bet he can fill your head with stories.”
I feel a squirm coming on. “Well, actually . . .”
A woman who's about as tall as she is wide appears at our table, her cheeks flushed red, like a jar of cranberries. Her neat ponytail brings out my envy. “Let's see, you're the Caeser,” she says to me. “And you would be the soup . . . oh, hey there, Josh. I didn't realize I'd be serving your order.”
“Hi, Therese. This is Tara Sweet. She's new to town.”
Therese shoves a chubby hand toward me, nearly knocking me in the chin. She giggles, then offers me a hello. “You two look amazing together, like one of those tourist postcards that says ‘Come to Otter Bay and you'll look as good as these two.'”
Josh groans. “More likely it says, ‘How'd this beautiful woman get stuck with the likes of this guy?'”
I blush.
Therese swipes a hand at him. “Aw, Joshua. You're much too hard on yourself. You're not
that
ugly.”
This time I crack up.
Josh shakes his head and gives her a mock evil eye. “Therese's a friend of the family—or actually, she
was
a friend.”
Therese tosses a napkin at him. “Speaking of them, how
is
your family? They all well? The mayor enjoying his retirement?”

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