The Coldwater Warm Hearts Club (24 page)

“With deviled eggs?”

“No, with much fancier entrées. It was a chance for foodies to learn to make a signature dish and spend some quality time in the kitchen with their partner, too. The taste, the aromas, the texture of the food—when you get right down to it, cooking is pretty sensual.”

“Is this the voice of experience?” Jake said as he handed her a tea towel to dry with.

“Me? No. My friend Shannon dated a guy who was really into the culinary arts for a while,” she said as she dried a bowl and stretched to place it back into Jake's neat cabinet. “Bradford Endicott wouldn't be caught dead cooking. He was never about doing anything for himself if he could pay someone else to do it.”

She wondered if Bradford had burned through all the money he'd stolen already. Given the lavish lifestyle he was accustomed to, it wouldn't take long. Last she'd heard, his family had cut him off. He might well end up having to do things for himself. If he didn't come back to the States to face indictment, it would serve him right if he was reduced to washing dishes for the rest of his miserable life in some third-world beanery.

Somehow that image pleased her even more than picturing Bradford in an orange jumpsuit.

“Lacy, you're not still hung up on him, are you?”

“On Bradford? No.” Even if he appeared before her in sackcloth and ashes, she had no interest in rekindling anything between them. And she certainly wouldn't trust him with her heart or her money any farther than she could throw him. “That chapter of my life is over and done with.”

“Good.”

While he made short work of the rest of the bowls, Lacy wondered what it would be like to do dishes beside Jacob Tyler for the rest of her life. It wasn't the glitzy world of high design she'd imagined for herself, but if the warm glow in her chest was any sign, it was a future with real appeal.

He pulled the stopper out of the sink and then caught up her hand. “Let's let the rest of these bowls air dry in the drainer and head up to the roof. It's getting dark. The marina is going to have a fireworks display to kick off the boating season. My roof is a perfect place to watch them.”

He took her hand and led her up a narrow set of stairs. Because the Town Square was built on a little rise, the park and Lake Jewel spread out below them to the northeast. In the deepening twilight, Lacy saw that Jake had spread out a blanket for them sometime earlier. A trail of loose rose petals led to it. The blanket was raised up from the decking by a couple of inches, far enough to suggest there was a foam pad under it for comfort. A handful of throw pillows were scattered over the blanket. A bottle of something sparkling was cooling in an ice bucket beside two stemmed glasses.

“You've been planning this for a while.”

“Be prepared. That's my motto.” He gave her the three-fingered Boy Scout salute.

“What makes me think you were never a scout?”

He took her hand and they sank together onto the blanket. “I'm not planning on being one tonight.”

“That,” she said as he bent to kiss her, “is something I'm counting on.”

 

—from the Methodist church bulletin

 

 

 

L
acy and Jake tumbled onto the blanket, mouths seeking, hands caressing. It felt so good to lie beside Jake, to be surrounded by his warmth, his strength.

Just kisses,
Lacy promised herself.

Even so, her body thrummed to peak awareness. His every touch, every low groan—they moved her to her very core. She hadn't had a makeout session like this for far too long. Of course, she hadn't felt like this about a guy in . . .

Bradford had been more a business decision, a merger, than a relationship. She'd been caught up in the glamour of his family name and prestige. The last time her heart had been engaged was eons ago, before she left Coldwater Cove for the first time.

But not even the “Summer of Daniel” came close to this.

She'd tried not to care about Jake. Really she had. She'd guarded her heart every step of the way, but there he was, firmly in the center of everything that made Lacy herself. All the empty places inside her, all the hurts, all the hopes, all her aloneness—he filled up every one.

And she ached to fill up those lonely places in him, too.

Jake rolled her over onto her back and, despite her best intentions, the night was about to spiral out of control.

Then the first screaming rocket exploded over Lake Jewel. Jake jerked away from her, chest heaving. He scrambled to his knees, thrusting her behind him.

Wild-eyed, he looked over his shoulder at her and ordered her to stay down. Then he turned back to Lake Jewel, where fire dripped from the sky and reflected up from the black water. It looked like fiery stalactites and stalagmites meeting in the dark. What must it seem like to Jake's combat-bruised psyche?

“It's OK, Jake.” She sat up and stroked his shoulders in small comforting circles. Although he was in a confused state, he was trying to protect her. “We're not in any danger. We're home. Look, there's the marina barge floating in the lake. That's where all this noise and flashing light is coming from.”

A Roman candle began spewing into the night from the deck of the barge.

Tension drained out of his muscles and Jake slumped down on the blanket beside her.

“It's just fireworks,” he said so softly he might have been talking only to himself. “I knew they were coming tonight. I should have been ready for them.”

“Well, I think I was distracting you a little bit.”

“Give yourself some credit.” He offered a lopsided smile. “You were distracting me a lot.”

“You're pretty good in the distraction department yourself.” She gave him a thorough once-over. His eyes were back to normal now. His breathing had settled into a smooth rhythm. “Is the flashback over?”

“It's over, but that wasn't really what you'd call a flashback. It was more like, well, I just become hypervigilant sometimes.”

“What's that?”

“It means I'm on high alert for a threat, whether there's one there or not,” he explained. “You're not going to nag me to see somebody about this again, are you?”

She was tempted, but if he saw a therapist only to please her, all the counseling in the world would be useless. “You're a big boy, Jake. I trust you to make a good decision for yourself.”

“Well, that's not good. If a girl won't nag a guy, it's a sure bet she doesn't give a flip about him.”

“You're so wrong.” She palmed his face and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. Tenderness made her eyes well up. “I actually give two flips about you.”

“That's a relief. I was beginning to think I was losing my touch.” He leaned back on his palms. “But I'm still ahead. I give seven or eight flips about you.”

Was that his backhanded way of telling her he loved her?

Before she could ask him to explain what he meant by seven or eight flips, he grinned, splayed his legs before him, and patted the space between his knees. “Come here. I'll be your lawn chair while we watch the rest of the light show.”

She slid into the space and leaned back on his chest, resting her arms on his muscular thighs. “You make a wonderful lounger.”

“Just call me your La-Z-Boy.”

Then they went silent while the fireworks from the marina's barge lit up the night sky. The crowd gathered along the lakeshore below
ooh
-ed and
ahh
-ed as each explosion became more spectacular. Occasionally Jake's arms tightened around her, especially after the screaming whiz-bangs and cherry bombs went off, but he didn't have any more moments when he lost track of what was really happening.

As the finale of pinwheels, Roman candles, and bursting shells faded and the stars came back into bright focus again, Lacy decided she could help Jake deal with his PTSD. She could calm him whenever he had an episode. If she knew what to watch for, maybe she could even help him prepare for a flashback.

If she was stalling about committing to a relationship with him, it shouldn't be because of this.

Maybe she shouldn't stall at all.

As Jake's heart thumped against her spine, she wondered why she had. It had nothing to do with him, she decided. Jake was a great guy.

It was about her need for control.

Her life had descended into chaos in Boston. She'd felt so helpless when Bradford ran off and left her to deal with the mess of his embezzlement. If she didn't get mixed up with another guy, she'd never be at someone else's mercy again. Her hand would be firmly on the helm of her life.

But Jake wasn't Bradford.

Even in the middle of a flashback, his first instinct had been to protect those around him. She could trust him.

She
should
trust him.

“Jake,” she said softly.

“Hmm?” He bent to nuzzle her neck.

“I was thinking you should come to my place for supper tomorrow night,” she said. “And bring Speedbump with you.”

“I thought you said Effie would kill him.”

“I was exaggerating.” She hoped she was. “Anyway, if you and I are going to be together, our animals need to learn to get along.”

Jake gave her a squeeze and kissed the crown of her head. “You want us to be together?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice at first. Then she whispered, “But I think we should go slow.”

“Slow is good. I'm a patient guy. I've wanted you since the day you walked back into the grill, but it's taken me a while to convince you. Slow is kind of my wheelhouse now,” he said. “Speedbump and I will be over tomorrow as soon as I get the Green Apple closed for the night.”

“Effie and I will be looking for you,” she said, relaxing back into him. “But we'll keep a sharp eye on that cat. Just in case.”

* * *

Fortunately, Effie the Unsociable only felt the need to box Speedbump's ears with her velveted claws once. After that, the dog was respectful of her personal space and they reached a fragile interspecies truce. Now that their pets were getting along, or at least tolerating each other's presence, nothing kept Jake and Lacy from seeing each other every evening.

Either she came over to his loft or he joined her at her place for dinner and a movie in. Jake was pleased to discover that they were both Trekkies and neither of them understood what had possessed Fox to cancel
Firefly
. Sometimes for a change, they went out to catch the late show at the Regal, where they necked like teenagers in the back row.

Once, they'd hit the Opera House when the big band was playing and after a jerking two-step that had them laughing together, Jake managed a creditable waltz with her. Holding her on the dance floor—any excuse to hold her, for that matter—made him thank God all over again for getting him out of Afghanistan. Even if he'd had to leave part of his left leg behind.

Days turned into weeks and the rhythm of Jake's life turned into the steady thump of counting the minutes until he could see Lacy again. When they weren't working, they were inseparable.

Jake even talked her into going to Wednesday-evening chapel with him. Twilight was giving way to deepening night as they walked back toward the Square after the service. Lacy was quieter than usual.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

“They're worth more than that.”

Jake fished a quarter out of his pocket and offered it to her. The rest of his cash had been dropped into the collection plate. “This is all I've got on me.”

“Better keep it, then. Looks like ice cream is on me tonight.”

“Fat chance.” He still had his debit card. Call him old-fashioned, but he wasn't about to let Lacy pay for anything when they were together. “Did you mind going to the service with me?”

“Not too much. Not as much as I thought I would.”

“But you were uncomfortable.” Sitting beside him in the pew, she'd been fidgety and her left knee had jittered through most of the short homily. But before and after the service, everyone had greeted her with hugs and smiles. “You grew up in that church. Why does it bother you to be there now?”

“It's not the church. It's me,” she said. “It's been so long. I got out of the habit of going when I was back east.”

“Not cool enough for you?”

“Wow, that doesn't make me sound shallow at all.”

She stuck out her tongue and pulled an adorable face at him. He didn't know how she managed it, but Lacy even made being snarky seem cute.

“But maybe you're right,” she admitted. “I was all about fitting in then and none of the people I knew in New England had much of a spiritual life—except for Shannon. She's Wiccan, but don't go thinking she worships the devil or anything like that. Shannon is good people. She'd give me a kidney if I needed one.”

“So you weren't tempted to try the religious flavor of the month with your Wiccan friend?”

“No. Like my dad always says, I'm as independent as a hog on ice. Not going to church, or giving any other religion a try, was more about wanting to do things for myself instead of relying on someone else to help me.”

“Someone like God.”

“Yeah, Him or any of His close friends.” She cast a glance and a smile up at him. “When I first came home, I had this weird, oh, I don't know, caricature, I guess, of church people in my mind.”

“You thought we were all holier-than-thou bigots and homophobes.”

“Something like that.”

“I understand why you might think so. That's the rap we get, and sometimes we deserve it. We don't always live the love we're supposed to,” Jake said. “The problem with the church is that it's just chock full of sinners.”

She laughed.

“Most of us know that about ourselves,” he said, “but sometimes we forget.”

“I don't think you're a sinner, Jake.”

“That's because you can't read my mind.” He stopped and hugged her close.

“I might surprise you.” Lacy stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

She was right. He had wanted a kiss. “Good guess.”

“A safe one. You're a guy, after all.”

But Jake wanted more than a kiss. He wanted everything with Lacy, every day, every night—all night—for the rest of his life. He just hadn't worked up the courage to ask her yet.

“But back to church people,” Jake said as, still holding hands, they started walking toward the ice-cream shop again. “Have you changed your mind about them?”

She nodded. “However nosey the church folk in Coldwater are about the lives around them, the nosiness really is motivated by caring. I'd sort of forgotten that part of living in a small town.”

“I know what you mean. When I came home from Afghanistan, it felt like I was being invaded at first, what with everybody interested in everything going on with me and my new leg,” Jake said. “But then it started feeling good to know I wasn't alone. I was connected. I had lots of people pulling for me. Praying for me.”

“It's hard to turn your back on people who care about you, isn't it? Most folks are so wrapped up in themselves, it's a total surprise to have someone invest their energy in you and your troubles for a change.” She leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked. “Since I came home, I've been blown away by the unexpected kindness of this town—church people, my coworkers, the Warm Hearts Club, even total strangers. And I've learned that I'm not as independent as I thought I was.” She started walking slower. “I've really made a mess of myself.”

“You don't look like a mess to me.”

“Well, I am. Like a duck, calm on the surface, paddling to beat thunder underneath,” she said. “And I wouldn't mind being on the Methodist prayer chain so much anymore.”

“Have you got a request you'd like put on the chain?” he asked, concerned.

“I probably should, but it's something I hate for anybody to know about.”

He understood that. Pride still kept him from going to that free mental health clinic at Bates College. Somehow, saying that he had a problem with flashbacks out loud to someone with a degree on their wall would make it more real. He knew it was false pride, but he hunkered behind it anyway.