The Coldwater Warm Hearts Club (22 page)

“What's not to like?” Lacy grinned at him. “I guess I should admit that Effie and I are warming up to each other slowly. She actually curled up on my lap the other day.”

“I'll be darned.”

“And I didn't have a single sardine in my pocket.”

“Well, that's progress,” Jake said. “Maybe it's just the difference between cats and dogs, but Speedbump is more eager to please. It's like he realizes he's got a good thing going and doesn't want to mess it up. Almost like he's been granted a miracle.”

Lacy took a sip of her tea.

“You know, it was kind of like watching a slow-motion miracle the other day, the way you and the Warm Hearts Club stood up for Lester Scott in court. Do you think he'll realize he's been given a good thing, too?”

“I hope so,” Jake said. “He's got thirty days in the tank to think about it. The miracle will kick in if he's able to meet the judge's demands. Lester is carrying a lot of baggage. This isn't going to be easy for him.”

“I suppose not,” Lacy said. “But being homeless is no picnic either. A place to live, work, and do some good for somebody else in exchange for staying sober. That seems like a good trade.”

“From the outside looking in, it does,” Jake said. “But who knows how it looks to Lester?”

“My uncle Roy—he's the real writer in the family—always says everyone has a secret and if you only knew it, it would break your heart,” Lacy said. “I wonder what Lester's is.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, as if he knew more about Lester's baggage than he'd said.

“Well, he did lose his family all those years ago,” Jake said.

“That's gotta hurt,” Lacy said. “Especially since it was his own fault as far as I know. Daniel never wanted to talk about it.”

Jake's knuckles whitened around his tea glass. She really shouldn't have brought up Daniel.

“The past is the past and nobody can change it,” Jake said. “All we can do is the best we can from one moment to the next.”

Lacy studied Jake's profile. He was a strong man. And his strength wasn't just physical, though it was hard to ignore his well-muscled arms and broad shoulders. There was a strong spine of moral toughness in him.

Who knew he was also wise? He was right. The past was already written. What would happen in the future was a result of the present, so “now” was all anyone really had.

“Since Lester has no choice but to stay sober for the next thirty days,” Jake went on, “maybe it'll help him believe his future can be different.”

“Do you think people ever really change? Deep down, I mean.”

Jake gave her a thoughtful look. “It depends on what kind of creatures you think we are. If we're just a product of heredity and environment, no one can be held accountable for their actions. We're only living machines, doing what we're programmed to do. But I believe people are more than genes and geography. We have free will. We are who we are because of the choices we make. If someone decides to change, they can.”

“Is that your way of reminding me you've changed? That you're not a player anymore?”

He grinned at her, his dimple in full force. “That wasn't what I was thinking about, but I like that your mind is heading in that direction.”

Her insides in full flutter, she looked away. No doubt about it. Her brief “Jake time” in fifth grade had not inoculated her from the power of the real thing.

“We can't force Lester to change,” Jake continued. “Nobody can make that decision for someone else. All we've done is put him into a situation where it'll be easier for him to make good choices. That's the hope anyway. When it comes right down to it, whether this thing succeeds or fails is up to him.”

“Looks like in thirty days, we'll find out which way he's going to go.”

Jake downed the rest of his tea in a long gulp. “Good thing we don't have to wait that long to find out if that oil did its job. Back to the salt mines.”

He stood and led the way back to the garage.

The chair looked terrific, the wood as warm and lustrous as the day the piece was made. Lacy showed Jake the fabric she'd chosen for the cushions, a crisp geometric pattern in shades of blue.

“I found an upholsterer who can do up the existing cushions in this material by next Saturday,” Lacy said.

“Mom's going to love it. How'd you know blue is her favorite color?”

Lacy shrugged. “Blue is beachy and fresh, so it's perfect for a lake house. We'll pair it with a yellow throw and pillow to make it even cozier. Besides, blue is my favorite, too.”

“How 'bout that?” Jake put an arm around her shoulder. His closeness was more intoxicating than Baileys in her dad's coffee. “Both my best girls like the same color.”

Best girl. Jacob Tyler's best girl.
It was the answer to many a Coldwater Cove maiden's prayer.

She just wasn't sure it was the answer to hers.

Not that she didn't care about him. She did. Too much, in fact.

But even if she opened up enough to let Jake in, how could she trust her feelings? After all, something very like this had steered her to Bradford Endicott, and look how that turned out.

 

—Marjorie Chubb, captain of the Methodist prayer chain

 

 

 

B
y the time Jake and Lacy reached the public park on the town-side shore of Lake Jewel, the blankets of hundreds of late-lunch picnickers dotted the green around the gazebo that doubled as a band shell. The park looked like a living patchwork quilt.

The air smelled of freshly cut grass. Jake drew in a deep lungful. Spring was his favorite time in Coldwater Cove. It was still too early for the humidity of high summer, but warm enough that every bush and tree had burst into full flower. Azaleas and lilacs, dogwoods and Bradford pear trees ringed the park. Best of all, the sunny weather had encouraged Lacy to rush the season and bare her long legs in a pair of shorts.

The community band assembled in the gazebo and started warming up with squeaks and squawks and snippets of Sousa marches. Under the shade of a live oak, Jake picked a spot to spread out a worn blanket about halfway between the gazebo and the lake. That way they'd be close enough to hear the band once it started playing in earnest, yet not so close as to be bothered by the honks and caterwauling of the tuning up now.

“Kind of makes you want to break out the old kazoo, doesn't it?” he teased.

“It was a clarinet, not a kazoo,” Lacy corrected. “And no. You don't want to hear me play it anymore. You'd have to move this blanket all the way down to the lake if I was in the band.”

“That's OK. I'd rather have you on the blanket with me anyway.”

Of course, they didn't have the blanket all to themselves. Speedbump was there. He was on a leash, but the little dog didn't test its limits. After playing with Fergus all morning, Speedbump was content just to curl up on a corner of the blanket. While Jake helped Lacy unpack the picnic basket, his unlikely version of man's best friend nodded off with a wuf-fling snore. Instead of running in his sleep, paws churning like most dogs' did, Speedbump's tail started thumping while his eyes were still shut tight.

“I've seen plenty of dogs chase rabbits in their sleep, but never one that wagged his tail,” Lacy said. “He must be a happy little guy.”

“They say dogs take on the attitudes of their owners.”

“Are you trying to tell me you wag in your sleep, too?” Lacy said with an ornery grin.

He couldn't tell if she was making fun of him or flirting, but either way, Jake didn't care. Just being close to her made him happier than he'd been since he'd returned from Helmand province.

Lacy's picnic was a feast. In addition to the fried chicken, the picnic basket held half a dozen deviled eggs, carrot and celery sticks, and a crisp apple apiece along with chips and salsa. For dessert, there were a dozen peanut butter chocolate chip cookies that looked soft and chewy, just the way he liked them.

Before Jake popped one of the deviled eggs in his mouth, he sent a silent prayer skyward.

His iffy relationship with Lacy had survived a botched attempt at bringing her dinner when she was moving in, a disastrous day at the lake house, and a dog bath that ended with a kiss that made him grateful to be a man. For some inexplicable reason, the same kiss had sent her running. He didn't think he'd get another chance with her if today also went south.

Then the flavors of the egg burst on his tongue and he forgot all about how the date was going.

“Oh my gosh, what's in this?”

“Those are my mom's three-cheese deviled eggs.”

“A plate of these on a bed of watercress would make a great summer special for the grill. I gotta have the recipe.”

“No can do.” Lacy shook her head. “It's a family secret.”

“So you know it?”

“Of course. All the Evans women do. A girl isn't considered fully grown till she's learned to make three-cheese deviled eggs. It's a family tradition.”

“Right up there with
not
cleaning fish?”

“Exactly.” She nibbled a heavenly egg, too. “The secret recipe is held in as high regard as the family motto.”

“OK, I'll bite. What's the Evans' family motto?”

“‘If a little is good, a lot is a whole bunch better,'” she said in an exaggerated English accent pronouncing the last word as if it was “bet-tah.” “My mom believes too much is never enough.” Then her face scrunched into a frown. “Since I'm a minimalist, I'm not doing so well with that, am I?”

“Whatever you're doing, keep it up. I think you're really something special, Lacy,” he said in all seriousness. “Everything you do. Everything you are.”

“Careful, sir,” she said, as if determined not to take his compliment seriously. “If you hope flattery will get you a deviled egg recipe, you are destined for disappointment.”

“It's not flattery if it's true.”

She chuckled. “Most guys use sweet talk to get a girl into bed. I've never had to defend the virtue of a deviled egg before.”

Jake leaned toward her. “Is that your way of saying you'd like to sleep with me? If that's where this is headed, I'll give up on the recipe in a heartbeat.”

“No, no, I didn't mean that.” Her lips said no, but judging from the way her cheeks flushed and her pupils widened, she was thinking about tumbling into bed with him. Lord knew as soon as she mentioned it, it was all he could think about. “I was just trying to impress upon you how seriously my family takes its secrets.”

“OK, so we'll take going to bed together off the table for now.” Jake was disappointed by her sigh of relief, but they were still talking, still spending time together. He'd live to fight that battle another day. At the moment, it was time to focus on those eggs. Jake rubbed his chin. “But tell me, is there anything that would convince you to teach me how to make your family's soon-to-be famous eggs?”

“Hmm . . . I don't know. What did you have in mind?”

He fought the urge to admit the idea of taking her to bed still occupied most of his brain. And all of a certain part of his body. “How about if I name the dish after you on the Green Apple menu?”

Lacy frowned. “If anyone's name is on it, it should be my mom's.”

“Done.”

“Now, wait a minute. I didn't mean for you to think the Evans family eggs can be had for a nod in the Green Apple's menu.” She cocked her head and gave him a searching look. “We're not that cheap.”

“Never thought you were.” Jake helped himself to another egg, willing his body to settle. “But it seems to me you've already agreed to share the secret with me. All we're dickering on now is your price.”

“What price can you set on the best deviled egg recipe on the planet?” Lacy's blue eyes teased. “In addition to naming the dish after my mom . . . maybe I'd trade a secret for a secret. Back at my folks' house, I told you everybody had one—a secret that would break your heart if only you knew it.” She cocked her head at him. “What's yours?”

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “I don't have any secrets.”

“Oh, that's right. You're a regular item on the Methodist prayer chain, so your life is an open book.”

Jake laughed. “It was when I first came home from Afghanistan. I've been lifted up by the prayer chain in the past, that's for sure. And I needed it every time, but I don't think Marjorie and her gang are as worried about me as they used to be.” He gave his prosthetic calf a slap. “I'm doing pretty good with my ‘bionic' leg now.”

Of course, he still hadn't been in a relationship with a woman since he'd returned from Afghanistan. His confidence had taken a beating, but he was working on it. That had to count for something.

Lacy's expression went suddenly serious. “Does the prayer chain know about your flashbacks?”

Jake shook his head. “You're the only one who knows about them.”

“Me and that other vet you talked to, you mean.”

He nodded. He hadn't exactly unburdened himself to Lester that day. Jake had done more listening than talking, but Lester was the only other person besides Lacy who'd ever caught him having a flashback, so at least the old man knew about them.

“Maybe you should try that new clinic at Bates College, too,” she suggested. “They might be able to help. Why don't you see what they can do for you?”

“Is that your tactful way of telling me I'm nuts?”

“No, just pointing out an option for you that wasn't there before. But setting that aside, you can forget about getting my deviled egg recipe with a secret I already know.” Lacy met his gaze steadily. “The day I first came home, you told me you'd been married once. What happened with that?”

Jake flinched. It had been months since Kim had even crossed his mind, but now the whole screwed-up mess flooded back into him.

“There's not all that much to tell.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Lacy shifted onto her knees. “Who was she? Where did you meet? And most importantly, why did it end?”

“You don't want much, do you?”

“Neither do you.” She popped the last bite of egg into her mouth and then licked her fingers slowly. “Talk or I'll take the secret of three-cheese deviled eggs with me to the grave.”

Jake shrugged. “Okay. Why not?”

Contrary to Lacy's cynical suspicion that the point of a date was for a guy to work his way into a girl's bed, Jake wanted to use this time for them to get to know each other better. Of course, he'd rather she got to know him through his successes instead of his failures, but Lacy wasn't giving him much choice.

“I don't want you to have to shout, so you might want to tell me before the band starts playing.” Then because he didn't answer immediately, she added, “while we're still young, please.”

“Young, huh? That was part of the problem, I guess. We were too young. I met Kim in college when I was playing football. She was a cheerleader for the team, so we did some traveling together for games. Toward the end of my freshman season, we played UNLV in Vegas.”

“So I'm guessing what happened in Vegas didn't stay in Vegas.” Lacy popped the top on her Coke and took a long drink.

“Are you telling this story or am I?”

“Proceed, Mr. Tyler,” she said in an imitation of Judge Preston's gravelly voice.

“Anyway, we whupped UNLV big time on the gridiron that year,” Jake said. “After the game, Kimberly and I celebrated the win by hitting one of those cheesy wedding chapels on the Strip.”

“So you got married, but you didn't really mean it?”

“Turns out, I did. Even if a wedding starts out as a joke, by the time you say ‘I do,' well, the weight of the whole thing hits you pretty hard. All that bit about leaving and cleaving and ‘till death do us part'—it's got to mean something.” Jacob tried a bite of the chicken, which was juicy and crispy and perfectly spiced. Here was another Evans family recipe he'd need to finesse from Lacy sometime. “The vows meant something to me anyway.”

“Not to her?”

“Oh, yeah. I think they did. At first. She had plans for us. Big plans,” Jake said. “Kim expected me to go pro after we graduated. I'd racked up record-setting yardage in my freshman season and it wasn't over yet. I already had a few agents putting out feelers. But then I took some hard helmet-to-helmet hits and had a couple of pretty bad concussions back-to-back.”

“Ouch.”

“What can I say? A three-hundred-pound nose tackle can really ring your bell. It made me pretty fuzzy-headed for a while.” Jake took a drink of his Coke. “I could have kept playing once the team doctor gave me the green light. Guys do. But with all the talk of how multiple concussions in the NFL lead to dementia and other bad stuff, I felt like I was at a crossroads. I had two choices.”

“And they were?”

“
Look
stupid by walking away from a full-ride four-year scholarship, or
be
stupid from recurring head trauma for the rest of my life,” Jake said. “Like I told you, I need to keep all the gray matter I got.”

“I'm glad you made that choice. I like the way your brain works in its present configuration,” Lacy said. “But I take it Kim wasn't in agreement.”

“Heck, no. She was furious. And she was even more upset when I joined up with the Marines. I tried to convince her it would be great for us. Depending on where I got assigned, we'd be able to travel the world together.”

It had all seemed so exciting at the recruiter's office. Once the guy found out Jake was married, he hammered away at all the benefits offered to military families—from housing to shopping at the PX to the adventure of a possible assignment to Italy or Denmark or Japan with his hot young wife at his side.

“But Kim wasn't willing to leave the university.” He'd known in his gut that was the beginning of the end, but he'd hoped they could work through it.

“She wanted to finish her degree?”

Jake shook his head. “She still had three years of partying left in her.”

“So did she ever graduate?”

“Oh, yeah, she racked up enough credits to get a BA in something while I was in Afghanistan, but she was never what you might call a scholar.” Kim's mind certainly wasn't the first thing Jake had noticed about her. He was choosier about women now. “A string of Ds can still add up to a degree, you know.”