Take a Chance on Me (4 page)

One hundred hours and he’d be free; he could leave Deep Haven and never look back. Maybe keep driving all the way to California or Mexico, where he could change his name and leave his past in the dust.

On top of the hill over the town, Jensen resisted the urge to glance out the passenger window at the scattering of lights that made up Deep Haven. Eyes, watching him, blinking, accusing.

He kept his gaze on the road, slowing as he took the truck around a curve carved through the granite, where the shoulder disappeared. His hands slickened and he caught himself holding his breath.

He couldn’t wait to leave. But to do that, he’d have to find a few more places where he could go, hat in hand, begging for hours. Deep Haven seemed determined to keep him from fulfilling his community service, especially lately. Volunteer jobs had fizzled to ten hours a week and some places, like the after-school tutoring program, had turned him away.

Apparently the fact that he had graduated from college and managed two years of law school didn’t matter to the English teachers struggling to teach their sixth graders to read.

No, if the citizens of Deep Haven had their way, he would have been their first public stoning.

He turned south where the road split around Evergreen Lake and took the paved road to the end, pulling in to the gated community of Pine Acres. The electronic gate and pass card could probably be considered overkill, but his father had promoted safety for the vacation homes when he jumped into the world of property development and created the luxury vacation community, and he kept his word. At least to the residents of the community.

As Jensen drove through the gates, he noticed that deer had snacked on the currant bushes by the entrance. He’d have to reshape them, maybe spray. A bulb was out on the automatic entry lights, and he spotted a tree down along one of the wooded drives. He’d come by tomorrow on the four-wheeler and clean it up.

He had to mow, anyway, and finish painting the Millers’ garage—a project his father thought might fill time and create some goodwill. After all, the Millers were one of his father’s largest clients in the Cities with their string of cinemas.

Jensen crawled into the driveway of his father’s massive vacation home and parked the truck outside. As he got out, the stars created a canopy of brilliance, innocent and bright. They felt so close he wanted to reach up and touch one. The wind hushed in the white pine and birch, the poplar and willow that surrounded the property.

Motion sensor lights flickered on as Jensen moved toward the service door, blinding him for a moment. Then he let himself into the darkness of the garage and didn’t bother to turn on the lights, toeing off his shoes and moving from memory up the stairs to the great room. At the top, moonlight streamed through the grand windows that overlooked the lake, waxing the wood floor with light. The ceiling rose two stories, trapping the silences of the grand house, and the place smelled of the walleye he’d cooked
for lunch in butter and dill. He dropped his keys onto the granite countertop and opened the double-door stainless fridge, peering inside for something. Anything.

Grabbing a root beer in a tall bottle, he twisted off the cap and padded out to the deck.

The lake rippled in the darkness, fingers of light feathering over the surface. He could barely make out Gibs’s light next door, trickling through the woods and across the sandy beach. He should check on the old man. A canoe lay moored on the sand, evidence of a recent visit by his granddaughter, Claire. How she loved to canoe the length of the lake.

Jensen didn’t mean to stalk, but he loved watching her. And what else did he have to do, really?

Across the lake, almost directly from Pine Acres, the lights of the Evergreen Resort main lodge blazed.

Once upon a time, he and Darek had been the kings of Evergreen Lake.

He set his root beer on the railing and dug out his harmonica.

The sound echoed across the lake, long and twangy, Johnny Cash’s “Cry! Cry! Cry!” Maybe it was a little indulgent, but tonight, he couldn’t help it.
“You’ll call for me but I’m gonna tell you, bye, bye, bye . . .”

He listened to the last of the sound lingering as he finished. It was so easy, sometimes, to just close his eyes, lose himself in memories. The heat of the sun on his skin, the taste of trouble in his laughter. Standing on the bow of the canoe, his feet balanced on the edges. Claire and Felicity on the seat in the middle, and at the stern, facing him, similarly balanced, stood Darek.

Jensen had seen that sparking of challenge in Darek’s eyes as he said, “You can’t knock me off.”

“Watch me.” Jensen gave the canoe a playful jerk.

Felicity squealed. The summer had turned her hair a rich, luscious blonde, and with her skimpy bikini, he could barely keep his eyes in his head. She faced him, grinning, and he wondered if she could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

Claire grabbed for her side of the seat, and he caught her gaze on him. She always made him feel a little naughty, even when he wasn’t thinking anything he shouldn’t. Then again, he supposed that’s what a missionary kid was supposed to do. Make you behave.

But on days like this, with the sun streaming down his back and both girls smiling up at him, he didn’t care about behaving.

Just winning.

Jensen jerked the canoe hard, and Darek’s arms windmilled. He nearly went over but found his balance and stamped his foot, making the canoe lurch the other direction.

Jensen caught himself and jerked it back, this time fast, hard, and—

Darek leaned into it, and suddenly Jensen found himself in the air. The chill of lake water swept away his breath, and he kicked hard to right himself.

He found Darek’s hand reaching for him when he came up. Jensen took it. And yanked.

Darek flipped over his head and into the lake. He came up sputtering, then launched himself at Jensen. They wrestled until they both hung on the side of the canoe, breathing hard.

“Let’s take your dad’s boat out, get some dinner down at the Landing,” Felicity said as Darek reached for her. She swatted him. Glanced at Jensen. “Please?”

“Sure.”

Claire reached out and helped Jensen into the canoe. Darek climbed in after him and they paddled back to shore.

Thankfully, his father wouldn’t be back until the weekend to grouse about the boat. Claire and Felicity met him in sundresses and they picked up Darek across the lake, then motored down to the outside grill and restaurant, Jensen’s knee propped on the diver’s chair as he guided the boat.

“Faster, Jens!” Felicity said, so he pushed up the throttle. Darek frowned, his eyes darkening, but Felicity was laughing and Jensen could feel it in his chest.

Her laughter always felt sweetly dangerous, like if he hung on too long, it might burn him. He could still hear her sometimes, in the darkness across the lake. Taste the memory of that curious summer when he had her all to himself, feel the texture of her kisses. What a fool he’d been, gobbling up the idea that if he did it right, she might belong to him. Believing that he even really wanted that.

Because she’d never belonged to him. Not then, not later.

He opened his eyes, staring into the night, at the lights across the lake, pressing into the darkness.

He should have remembered that Darek Christiansen always won.

IF THIS WAS HIS
“Welcome to Deep Haven” face, Ivy would hate to see what his grumpy side looked like. The man had all the warmth, all the friendliness, of a pinecone.

Sadly, for a moment there, down at the beach, with the waves cheering her on, she thought they might become friends. Thought she saw a crack in his nasty demeanor.

Darek Christiansen, Deep Haven tour guide, at your service, milady.

Right.

She should have asked for her money back after all. Or donated straight to the EMS department instead of giving in to this farce of a . . . what? Date?

Maybe she should have taken him up on his offer of yard work.

Most of all, she couldn’t believe she’d barely met this guy and he was rejecting her already.

He had taken off the soft top of his Jeep and now sat with his arms folded, mouth grim, waiting to be released from his captivity.

She had the great urge to call it quits and ask him to take her home. But, well . . . the
view
. It glued her to this spot above Deep Haven. “I can’t believe we only drove five miles and yet we can see the entire town, practically tuck it into our hands.”

“We’re on Pincushion Mountain overlook. Teenagers like to make out here.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly the information she’d expected to hear.

“It looks as if Deep Haven fell into a bowl, spilling out toward the lake.” Indeed the lights cascaded down the mountain like a sparkling river toward the blackness of Lake Superior, the lighthouse the final pinprick against the night. Pine fragranced the air, country music twanged from the radio, and despite the chill creeping under her jean jacket, it seemed a night for romance.

Ha.

Ivy got out of the Jeep, walked to the edge of the cutoff.

“Careful. It’s a straight drop down.”

I can take care of myself,
she nearly said. Had been doing just that for about three decades now. But she didn’t want to cause a fight.

“How long have you lived here?” she said, not looking at him. A boat, a single point of light, traveled out on the lake.

“I was born here. Grew up here.”

“Made out here?” She couldn’t help it and turned to see his reaction. “Oh, c’mon, you were the one who brought it up.”

He had his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes on her, narrowed, enigmatic. “Fine. Yes, of course. I was a Deep Haven boy.”

That was more like it. She walked back to the car, slid into the seat. “What is your favorite place in town?”

He lifted a shoulder, but she didn’t let him off the hook. She knew how to wait out a confession. Finally he glanced at her; then, “I live on a resort on Evergreen Lake. A boy’s playground with woods and wild animals and a pristine lake. It’s all rocky beach and marsh except for one piece of property at the end that bumps up next to ours. Right there sits an overhanging oak tree with an old rope tied to one of the branches. I spent every summer swinging from that tree or boating on the lake, most nights in front of a campfire, roasting marshmallows.”

Look at that. More than a three-word sentence. “That sounds magical.”

“Growing up on a resort in a small town has its merits.”

“I suppose you know everyone in town.”

He shrugged again. “I know enough.”

Ivy leaned her head back, tracing the stars, the glorious Milky Way. “I’ve always wanted to live in a town like Deep Haven. Someplace quiet and safe. Where everyone knows your name, and your neighbors greet you in the grocery store.”

“Is that what you want—to be greeted in the grocery store?”

“Maybe. And for the coffee shop barista to know my regular order. For the librarian to call me when my favorite book is in and the mailman to know me by name, maybe come in for coffee.”

“My mailman is named Dennis, and he’s never come in for coffee once in twenty years.”

“I want to have memories. Live someplace where I belong. Where I could stay, forever.” She hadn’t meant all that to spill out, to sound so desperate. But he clearly didn’t appreciate what he had.

“Military?”

“No. Just . . . not the ideal childhood. I was a foster child.”

“Sorry.”

Ivy closed her eyes. “You can’t live in the past. Your life is what you make it.” She sat up, then turned. “Take me there.”

“Where?”

“Evergreen Lake. I want to see this rope swing.”

But he didn’t move, his face going a little white. “I can’t. I’m not . . . Well, I just can’t.”

Oh. “So . . . what do you do? Are you a lumberjack like that other contestant?”

She meant it as a joke, but he didn’t look amused. “I work at the resort as the maintenance man.”

“Carrying on the family business, huh?”

Darek stared at her for a moment. “It’s getting late,” he finally said, pulling out his phone.

Huh. She wasn’t sure what she’d said, but yes, she’d wasted enough time with bachelor number one.

“Oh no,” he said, dialing. “I must have muted the ringer. I didn’t even hear—Mom, I just got your message. What—?”

He fell silent, something stricken on his face. Then, “I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and turned the key in the ignition. “I gotta take you home.”

Ivy reached for her buckle. “What’s the matter?”

He turned, bracing his arm atop her seat. “It’s my son. He’s in the emergency room.”

Son? Darek
was
an eligible bachelor, wasn’t he? Her gaze flickered to his left hand. But he didn’t wear a ring, so maybe he was divorced. “What happened?”

“He fell off the top bunk. I don’t know . . .” The wheels screeched as they headed out of the overlook.

She reached for the roll bar. “Who was with him?”

“His grandmother.” They pulled onto the highway. “My mother. She’s freaked out.”

Where was the boy’s mother? “How old is he?”

His hair rippled in the wind, both hands bracing the steering wheel. “Five.” His voice sounded choked, panicked. “He’s five.”

She pressed her hand to his arm. “Go straight to the hospital. I can find my own way home.”

He glanced at her, and she saw it again, that chink in his personality that hinted there might be a flesh-and-blood man under there. “Really?”

“Of course.” She squeezed his arm. And for a second, he looked down at her grip. Back at her.

Then he swallowed and glanced away, back at the road. “Thanks,” he said. Or she thought that’s what she heard in the roar of the wind.

She let her hand fall away and held on. When they pulled up to the Deep Haven hospital—a decent size for a community of less than two thousand—he parked illegally in front of the entrance and scrambled out.

Of course he didn’t wait for her, but she could take care of herself.

Especially around hospitals. How many times had she curled up in a vinyl chair for the night while they worked on her mother?

The ER canopy lights illuminated the entry and the doors slid back as Darek charged inside. Stone columns and the pristine linoleum flooring, muted beige walls, suggested a recent taxpayer-funded update. Ivy followed on his tail, intending to ask at the nurses’ desk for directions back to her apartment or even to call a
cab. Did they have cabs in Deep Haven? The desk was empty, the nurses probably occupied with their patient.

Across from the desk, an emergency room bay held two beds, one of them cordoned off with a curtain.

Darek plowed right up to a cluster of women standing vigil in the middle of the hallway. The older woman—Ivy would guess she might be Darek’s mother—had bobbed blonde hair and smart red glasses, her arms folded over her chest as if trying to hold herself together. One of the girls, maybe his sister, had her blonde hair tied up in a hairnet and sported a short-sleeved black shirt with a Pierre’s Pizza logo emblazoned on the breast. The other looked younger, maybe even in high school, petite and brunette. She wore a pink tie-dyed T-shirt, low-hanging sweatpants, flip-flops. Her pink toenails looked freshly painted.

Ivy had correctly pegged them as family judging by the way Darek lit into them. In fact, the entire county might be able to hear him.

“Where is he?”

“Calm down, Darek. It’s just a few stitches,” the older blonde woman said, but her voice shook.

“
Stitches?
Sheesh, Mom, what happened?”

“I put him to sleep in Owen’s old bed, but he climbed up on the top bunk. I didn’t even know until I heard him scream.”

Darek made a face, something of pain. “You have blood all over you.”

At that, Ivy gave the woman a closer look. Blood smeared the collar of her shirt.

“Head wounds bleed a lot—”

“Head wound! Does he have a concussion?”

“I don’t know.”

Darek pushed the rest of the way through the crowd and pulled aside the curtain.

Ivy saw a man—probably Darek’s father for the resemblance to him, with his scowl, blue eyes, wide shoulders under a canvas jacket—holding the hand of a little boy.

A cute little boy. With curly blond hair that hung in spirals around his head and brown eyes. He wore Spider-Man pajamas, his feet bare. And blood saturated his shirt, coated his face. A nurse pressed gauze to a wound over his eye while the child fought back tears.

How well she could remember sitting in a hospital, fighting back tears.

Then Ivy’s breath stilled in her chest as the nasty man she’d spent the last hour with transformed before her eyes.

Darek moved around the gurney. “Hey there, Tiger.” He forced a smile despite the trauma in his eyes.

“Daddy!” The boy started to whimper and pulled away from the nurse to throw his arms around Darek’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder.

Darek held him tight, rocking him.

“Tiger looks just like Darek at this age,” Darek’s mother murmured. “I can’t believe I didn’t check on him.”

“It’s okay, Mom. These things happen. He not only looks like Darek, but he has his father’s wild streak.” The younger daughter slipped her arm around her mother’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Amelia. I just wish he was a bit easier to corral.” She turned to the other girl. “Grace, is your shift over?”

“No,” the blonde pizza girl said. “But when you called about Tiger, trying to find Darek, I got off. One of the other girls filled in for me. I’ll make up the hours later this week.”

“Poor Darek. Did you hear that he went for five hundred dollars tonight at the bachelor auction? Some out-of-towner bought him,” Amelia said. “Clearly she didn’t know what she was buying.”

“Oh, be nice, Amelia. Darek is a fine catch for any woman.”

“Mom, seriously. Darek is about as dark and wounded as they come. He’s never getting married again. He wouldn’t have gotten married the first time if—”

“So we’re having the party here?”

They turned at the voice, and the sliding doors closed behind a man with dark, tousled hair, sporting a leather jacket, jeans, hiking boots. He strode past Ivy, toward the family.

“Casper!” Amelia went into his arms.

He wrapped her up, kissed her on the forehead. “Hey, Sis.”

“How’d you know?” his mother said.

“I texted him,” Grace said, kissing his cheek. “And yes, I scored you some leftover pizza, although, by the way, you shouldn’t be checking your phone while on your bike.”

“I made a pit stop at the Cutaway Creek overlook to call home. Caught your message then.” He hugged his mother.

“How long do you have?”

“I leave in a couple weeks. We’re diving a wreck off of Key West.”

“Bring me a treasure,” Amelia said. She had tucked her arm into his.

“How is Tiger?” Casper asked, glancing into the room. “Dare looks like he might keel over. What happened?”

“He climbed up on your old bunk and fell off.”

“Where was Darek? Why were you watching him?”

“Darek had a date,” Grace said. She had pretty blue eyes and now they shone.

Ivy had already begun to back away, held there only by her crazy, train-wreck curiosity. Why had Darek gotten married—and where was this poor child’s mother?

“You’re kidding me.”

“He filled in for Owen at the bachelor auction. He and Eden couldn’t make it, so . . . ,” his mother said.

“Darek filled in?” Casper gave a sound of disbelief. “Oh, who is the poor girl?”

Ivy sort of liked Casper—his dark curly hair, the sense of adventure in his aura. With his talk of diving and Key West, he sounded like a modern-day pirate. Why couldn’t she have bid on him?

No. Wait. Ivy didn’t want a man who was going to leave her for some lost-treasure dream.

What was she thinking? She wasn’t in the market for
any
kind of man. Or any kind of relationship that would inevitably end and break her heart.

She edged toward the door, but not fast enough to tune out the little boy’s scream. Ivy turned and saw Darek hovering over his son, holding his hand, speaking softly to him as the doctor applied a long needle to the wound, probably to numb it. The child howled.

This was where Ivy checked out.

Besides, Darek had long forgotten her.

It was probably for the best, really. But for the first time since meeting him, she hoped that he wouldn’t.