Читать книгу Family in His Heart - Gail Gaymer Martin - Страница 7

Nick pulled alongside the high school and watched the building. He liked to be on time. Gary had little patience and he tried not to stir up any more animosity than was necessary.

Kids were like that. They hated their parents once they reached their teens. Nick often wished he could ship Gary away to a farm and then bring him back when he’d become an adult and learned civility, patience and hopefully some love.

Fighting his son to live his Christian morals and values had gone by the wayside. Lately, Nick struggled to communicate about anything with Gary. He wondered if his wife hadn’t died would Gary be different? Jill. Her image flashed through his mind along with guilt-laden memories. He stifled the vision before it got hold of him again.

The May sun beat against the window and Nick rolled down the pane to let the breeze drift in. The earth smelled pungent as if the winter’s debris had revitalized the soil, making everything ready to grow. How often had he wished he could be revitalized that simply.

Revitalized. He pictured Rona, the woman at the restaurant. Now that was energy. She darted from one station to the next, pouring coffee, bussing tables and taking orders without a hitch—a bundle of the cutest energy he’d ever seen.

He could see her straight honey-colored hair bouncing against her shoulders, the sweep of the wave that tucked beneath her chin when she tilted her head. And those eyes, as gray as a stormy sky but with a hint of sunshine behind the clouds.

Nick snorted at his flowery rumination. What was he doing thinking of a stranger at the Harbor Inn? He needed a woman muddling his mind like he needed another belligerent son in his life. What he really needed was a housekeeper. Had he known she was looking for work he’d have told her about the job right away, stranger or not. He was desperate.

A breeze drifted in, bringing the scent of freshly mowed grass. He turned toward the school again and saw Gary meandering around the back of the building, his arm wrapped around a girl encased in the tightest jeans Nick had ever seen and a knit top that exposed more than it covered.

He shook his head, disgusted and saddened with today’s morals. As if he hadn’t noticed him, Gary leaned against a tree, nestled the girl into his arms and planted a kiss against her mouth. Nick tooted the car horn, hoping to end the public display.

At first, Gary didn’t move, then finally rolled his shoulders from the tree trunk, eased away from the young woman and ambled toward the SUV.

Nick rested his arm against the window frame and watched him amble nearer. “I’ve been waiting.”

“I’m not going home. I forgot to tell you.”

The young woman adhered to his side like a static-charged balloon. “Hi, Mr. Thornton,” she murmured.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a glance but not remembering her name—if he’d ever known it. “Gary, you should have told me. I’ve been hanging around town waiting for you. Better yet, you should have asked. What’s up?”

Gary’s face twisted to a sneer. “I’m going to Phil’s. We have some things to do.”

“What kind of things?”

“Dad, get off my back. Things.”

Nick’s body stiffened. “Please be more respectful, Gary. What kind of things? Studying?”

“Yah, studying.”

The girl snickered and nestled closer against his side.

Studying held about as much reality as cleaning his room. “It’s a school night and I’m not coming back to pick you up.”

“Phil’ll bring me home or I can spend the night.”

“No, you can’t. I want you home.”

Gary slapped the car roof. “Come on, Dad. I’m not six anymore. I’m sixteen.”

“That’s right, and when you’re twenty-one and earning your own living, you can stay out as long as you want.” Nick’s jaw tightened. “You’ll be home by nine.”

Gary scowled. “Ten.”

“Okay, ten, but no later.”

Gary drew back, lifted a hand and walked away.

Nick pondered the gesture as his son strode away from the SUV. Had it been a goodbye wave or an I-don’t-want-to-hear-this-anymore gesture.

Nick fell back against the seat, feeling the warm breeze but forgetting the fresh scent and hopeful sense of something new he’d had earlier. He and Gary had become an old argument for the past two years. The first year after Jill’s death had been one of silence. The last two had been years when silence would have been a gift.

His shoulders slumped as he pulled away. If he didn’t love his son so much, he wouldn’t care, but Gary was all he had now, his purpose for waking in the morning. With Jill gone—the word made him cringe—life had changed, and despite their rough times, his life had not just faded but died with her. He woke in the morning, ran his businesses, arrived home to be with his distant son and went to bed, wishing they’d never gone waterskiing that ill-fated day, wishing he’d never looked back at Jill.

The sunlight blurred against the hood of his SUV and he brushed the tears away with the back of his hand. He’d lost the sense of family. He’d become alienated from his son. Time to make changes. He needed to do something about his relationship with Gary. What, he didn’t know, but he hoped the Lord would guide him. He and Gary had to come to an understanding, at least a tolerable existence, and Nick knew he had to live again.

A voice sounded in his head—Rona Meyers, a feminine powerhouse. Maybe he could learn something about life from her. He’d seen those stormy eyes tinged with the hint of sunny hope. He needed hope and he definitely needed energy.

The late afternoon sun streaked across the lake as Rona exited the Harbor Inn the way she’d come in that afternoon.

She headed for her car, then stopped and looked back at the brick-red clapboard building with wide windows, letting reality sink in. She worked here.

The difference between Harbor Inn and the last café she’d worked struck her. Walking on the plank floor all day at Harbor Inn had been easier than the typical city-diner slab floor covered by tile or cheap carpet. Harbor Inn had a homey feeling. People knew people. They talked and joked. And if she needed anything right now, it was a sense of home.

She ambled past her car, drawn by the lulling roll of the lake. Small fishing boats lined the harbor along with private speedboats to carry passengers from the mainland to their homes on the islands—thirty-six islands, she’d learned from Bernie when he’d accepted her application and taken a minute to talk.

Pausing a moment, Nick Thornton’s image settled over her. He lived on the large island across the stretch of water. The distant homes looked lovely, large rambling houses with large boathouses, many two stories with rooms for guests. This kind of life she’d never experienced and never would.

She grasped her shoulder bag and crossed the street, heading toward the white building near the water, the marina’s office, where people could gather information and perhaps book a fishing trip. Beyond the office, a white gazebo stood in a small patch of grass closer to the water, too small for a bandstand, but it added charm to the landscape.

Lake water and fish scented the air, a vital smell that made her feel alive. Rona leaned against the gazebo and drew in a deep breath as she regrouped her courage and reminded herself why she came to this town in a little hook of land in the upper peninsula.

Wondering what life might be like across the rolling blue water, she turned back and headed for her small sedan, but before she opened her car door, she noticed a grocery store across from the Harbor Inn. Her cabin didn’t have a kitchen, but she could use some cereal and she could store milk in her cooler until she found something more permanent.

She veered across the street and headed inside. She gazed around the store sizing up what they had to offer. Cereal and milk for breakfast, a bag of chips and a six-pack of orange pop would serve her for now. She’d had a good meal at the inn and tomorrow she’d make more definite plans.

Rona paid the clerk, then stepped outside. Pressing the remote, she heard the comforting click of the locks. She shoved the grocery bag inside, then gave the lake a final look.

Her heart jigged a moment when she saw a broad-shouldered man with wind-tossed hair drive past her. His bristled jaw and solid features assured her. Nick. Rona followed his SUV with her eyes. When the road ended at the harbor, he turned left along the piers and boathouses.

Though feeling like a stalker, Rona climbed into her car and followed, curious as to where he was headed. Holding back, she saw him slow up and turn into a grassy area. She waited and soon he strutted from behind the cabins and crossed the street.

She rolled forward, seeing him march along the pier and stop in front of a good-size speedboat.

Nick untied the front ropes, then stepped into the craft and removed the back moorings. He vanished inside the cabin, and in a moment, she heard the motor hum and saw the boat head into the lake.

Her curiosity growing, Rona rolled closer to the pier and put her sedan in Park. She followed the wake of the bow as Nick headed to the big island. Nick steered along the shoreline, then rounded the bend. Marquette Island. It had to be.

She could picture his home, like him, manly and sturdy, but the image caused her to pause. He hadn’t worn a ring but he could still be married. He had a son. She lowered her gaze, mortified that she’d been ogling a man who might very possibly have a wife.

Rona shifted into gear, turned around in the nearest driveway and headed back to Highway M-134, determined to keep her curiosity under control.

The motel appeared ahead. Hardly a place to call home, but she would make the best of it until she had the chance to find a rental she could afford. The job offer at Harbor Inn had been a gift from God.

God. She and God had been estranged for a long time. All her life she’d believed that the Lord guided her steps, but the day her brother duped her into giving him a ride had been the day she figured God might guide other people’s plans but He’d allowed Satan to guide hers. Where had her fortress and shield been that day?

The remembrance shot through her and she didn’t want any part of the recollection. Her life had nearly ended that day, and instead of struggling with it, she preferred to pretend it hadn’t happened. That’s why she’d moved away.

She pulled in front of her log cabin and dug into her bag for the key. Logs seemed to be the popular building material in the area. It made sense; Nick had mentioned his family were loggers and she realized logging still provided jobs for many workers. Too bad she wasn’t a strong, outdoorswoman. Logging could provide her with a good income.

Nick had been on her mind since she’d met him. When he’d slid the newspaper in front of her, she decided at first it had been because he knew she wanted a better job than being a waitress, but when she saw the housekeeper ad, she wondered if he’d been interested in hiring her.

She questioned her good sense. The man didn’t know her. She could be a thief or an addict…anything. Why would he consider her?

She couldn’t imagine living in a house on an island, a big house with lovely furniture and at least some luxuries. Housekeeper? Could she handle a job like that. Why not? She’d cleaned many houses—her parents, her own when she’d been married, and then the variety of apartments she’d called home for short periods of time. Housekeeping as a job would hardly pay better than the waitress job. Still, it offered a room. Wondering why she’d let her mind wander to the ridiculous, she stopped herself from second-guessing.

A long, lonely evening lay ahead of her when she stepped inside the single square bedroom with a small bathroom. One glaring overhead bulb hung from the ceiling and a single lamp sat on the nightstand where she placed her purse and room key. She pulled open the brown-and-green plaid curtains to let in the five o’clock light. Night still came early in the north and she longed for long summer evenings.

She tossed the potato chips on the dresser along with the box of cereal, then checked her cooler for ice. Low. She’d need to add some cubes from the motel’s stash until she could buy a bag.

Sinking into the only easy chair, Rona looked around the room with its dark walls, mass-produced paintings and thread-worn towels beside the sink. What would it be like to live in one of those lovely homes on Marquette Island or any island for that matter?

She twiddled her thumbs, wishing she’d picked up a magazine and the newspaper. She needed to find a place to live. The TV remote lay on the nightstand. She pointed it at the TV. Snowlike fuzz dotted the screen. She pressed another button and a news program brightened the room. The newscasters appeared to have orange-colored skin.

Forcing herself to watch, she sank back into the chair, but the distorted colors and unfamiliar names and places left her feeling even more alone.

Why had she come here? She could have lost herself in a big city somewhere else. She’d had reasons to run away. They made sense to her, but making the move had been harder than she realized. At home she had a couple of friends and a father who’d spent most of his lifetime drunk. It hardly seemed worth sticking around the Detroit area and dealing with her brother again for them. Her brother had hurt her—disappointed her—too many times.

Yet she loved him. They were kin and she knew that should mean something. To him, it meant someone to rip off and manipulate. At least being home meant memories of her mother and the familiar, as bad as it had been sometimes.

She snapped the off button and picked up the ice bucket. Outside, she located the motel’s ice supply, filled the container and returned to her room.

What would people who lived on the island be doing? She couldn’t see the water from the highway motel, but she tried to imagine. Nick was probably sitting in front of the TV watching sports or the news while waiting for his wife to prepare dinner. She glanced at her watch. Maybe they’d eaten already. She pictured a cozy nook with a white tablecloth, the family chatting over dinner.

Maybe Nick wasn’t married. He needed a housekeeper, so possibly he was single, raising a son alone. Did he cook dinner or live on frozen meals as she so often did?

Enough. She shot from the chair. She’d rather work the night shift at the restaurant than spend the evenings alone. She paced the room, looking outside at the occasional car that shot along the highway. Goaded by her boredom, Rona thought of Shirley Bailey and tried to remember where she lived. She couldn’t just drop by without calling.

With a purpose in mind, Rona headed to the motel office. The woman she’d seen earlier greeted her as she entered.

Rona smiled and leaned against the counter. “Do you have a local telephone book I could use?”

“Certainly.” The woman reached into a niche below the desk and brought up a scrawny book that caused Rona to grin.

“Thanks,” she said, opening the cover. This time Rona couldn’t control her quiet chuckle. The book covered not only Hessel, but Cedarville, Rockport and other small cities nearby. She located the Hessel section and scanned the B’s. Bailey. Samuel Bailey. Shirley still used her husband’s name in the directory. Rona had tried to forget her husband’s name as soon as she could.

She dug into her purse for a pen and paper and jotted the number on the back of her grocery receipt. With thanks, she slid the book toward the woman and stepped outside.

Heading for her car, she pulled the cell phone from her shoulder bag, then leaned against the sedan and pressed in the Bailey phone number.

Nick stepped onto his dock and moored the boat. He looked up the incline to the house—the lonely house. Though he and Gary seemed like strangers, his son made noise and sometimes had breakfast or dinner with him. He wished he knew how to talk with Gary. They were like two islands connected by a drawbridge that had risen and never came down again.

He wondered if all parents of teenagers felt like he did. He barely knew Gary’s friends anymore. He didn’t bring them home and avoided talking about them, and the ones he knew from church had faded from Gary’s life. Nick didn’t even know the girl his son had wrapped in his arms at the school.

Facing that things had to change, Nick drew in a breath and headed inside. The pervading trees blocked the lowering sun except for the living room and the dining room. He snapped on a light to brighten the gloom that surrounded him.

The kitchen sink still held their cereal bowls from the morning. Nick rinsed them and slipped the bowls into the dishwasher. He drained coffee from the carafe, cleaned the used grounds and made a fresh pot. The silence pressed against his ears except for the soft groan of the water warming in the coffeemaker.

He sank onto a kitchen chair, his mind drifted to the sunny diner in Hessel and the intriguing woman he’d met. Nick had seen more sparkle in her eyes than he’d seen in years.

Yet beneath the glint of curiosity and humor, she’d been wary. He sensed it. But why wouldn’t she be? He’d been a stranger who invited her to sit with him and then talked in circles.

Nick should have asked her if she’d consider a housekeeping job. He called it that, but he needed someone in the house for more than housekeeping. Nick longed for someone to bring life to his home as well as keep the dust bunnies from multiplying and taking over. Most of all he wanted someone to keep an eye on Gary.

His past housekeeper, Angie, had decided to move to a big city, as she’d called it. He chuckled. If she thought St. Ignace was a big city, wait until she laid her eyes on Bay City or Saginaw.

Rona, he guessed, had come from the city. Maybe even Detroit. She had that look about her, and he heard concern in her voice about finding work and getting settled in the small town. Hessel’s population was even smaller than Cedarville where Gary’s high school was located.

The thought reminded him of his difficulties with Gary. Cedarville, that was the problem. He knew people in Hessel, but not as many in Cedarville. He didn’t have as many connections there. Maybe he could get involved in some way. The idea rattled in his head. He had so little time. How could he get involved?

The scent of coffee aroused his senses. He rose and filled his favorite cup, then ambled into the living room where he could look out at the lake. Shades of gold spread across the water; he watched the changing sky for a moment, then headed for the family room and caved into the recliner. He leaned his head against the cushion and looked through one of the windows beside the fireplace. The flowering trees and the darkening leaves reminded him that summer was almost here.

He looked away from the pleasant view as his mind headed toward his problems. What could he do to make a difference in his and Gary’s lives? He couldn’t go on like this. He had businesses to run, responsibilities to handle and now a son who appeared to hate him. He closed his eyes, hoping God would send him a message, anything to give him a hint of where he’d gone wrong.

When he opened his eyes, he saw her picture on the mantle. Jill. Her face laughing into the camera. He’d lived with the other side of Jill as well, the brooding side. Studying the photo he noticed Gary looked like her. He only had Nick’s light brown hair and maybe a similar smile, the smile he hadn’t seen much lately.

Nick rose and lifted the framed photograph. Each time he saw it, guilt knifed his heart. He slid it into the small secretary desk drawer. He didn’t need to be reminded of what he’d done. Life had moved on and Jill was in heaven, happier than she could have ever been on earth. He knew that for sure.

The sun had faded and Nick snapped on the light and ambled to the kitchen. Too weary to make dinner, he tossed lunch meat on two pieces of bread, took a big bite and headed back to the recliner.

By the time he’d settled back and tilted the chair, the sandwich had vanished. With a final sip of coffee, Nick closed his eyes, mulling over possibilities. He had batted zero finding a housekeeper. He just needed to be direct and see if Rona would be interested. At least he’d have one thing off his mind if she accepted.

Rona shifted in the comfy chair, feeling good to be here again in the Bailey’s cozy home.

“For a minute there, I didn’t recognize your name when you called.” The elderly woman grinned. “But then I remembered you were the little blond girl with straight hair and bangs.”

Straight hair and bangs. Memories swept over Rona. “That was me.” Her mind flew back to her skinny legs and scrawny body. She’d hated it then, but she looked at her rounder figure now and wished she had a little of that thinness today.

“You visited a few times with Janie, I remember.”

A few times. Yes, and the trips had always been such a wonderful reprieve from her difficult childhood. The Bailey house brimmed with sunshine, smiles and a cozy comfort she’d never known at home. Her mother tried, but her father had dashed all attempts to the ground.

“At least that’s what I recall,” Mrs. Bailey said as if questioning her own recollections.

Rona swallowed her memories. “You’re right, Mrs. Bailey. I visited numerous times. I haven’t seen Janie in years. I hope she’s well.”

“She’s fine. Lives in California with her husband and three children. Sweet kids.”

Husband and three kids. California. “That’s great.” Envy prickled along Rona’s neck, thinking of friends happily married with kids. Kids she’d never have.

“I’m so glad you called tonight. There’s nothing good on TV on Mondays.”

Rona held back a laugh. “I’m not sure any night is good, especially trying to watch anything on the motel’s TV.”

Mrs. Bailey leaned closer. “Where are you staying?”

“Up the road. Some small cabins.”

She nodded.

Rona wondered if she had heard her. “Just up the road,” she said, raising her volume.

“Those small cabins?”

“That’s right.” She’d wondered why sometimes the woman had given her a blank look. Now she knew.

“How long are you visiting?”

She’d told her earlier. Rona cranked up her volume. “I’m planning to stay for a while. Settle down here, I think.”

Her eyes brightened. “Really?” She cocked her head as if thinking. “You’ll have to drop by now and again. I don’t have lots of visitors nowadays since Sam’s gone.”

“I was sorry to hear about his passing.”

Greeted by another blank stare, Rona repeated herself, this time, louder.

“Yes, it’s been a little over a year since Sam died.” She looked across the room a moment and Rona followed her gaze but didn’t see anything particular that had drawn her attention. “Hard to believe he’s gone, except it’s lonely.”

Lonely. Rona knew that word well. “I’m sure it is. I’d be happy to stop by when I can.”

Mrs. Bailey perked up. “Good. I’ll make cookies.”

Sadness swept over Rona. She’d felt lonely when her mother died, but she’d built up a wall to protect herself. But recently that protection had failed and the same hollow feeling seemed to overwhelm her again at times.

“Are you retired?” She leaned back, her mind seeming to drift.

Don’t I wish. But when the question struck Rona, she closed her jaw and wondered if she looked that old. “I’m too young to retire. I found—”

The elderly woman’s eyes widened. “What was I thinking?” She shook her head. “I know you’re a young woman. Sometimes my mouth doesn’t check in with my brain.”

This time Rona laughed out loud. “That’s okay. Mine doesn’t either. I found a job in Hessel this afternoon at the Harbor Inn.” She told the woman what had happened.

“Doesn’t the Lord provide when we need Him?”

The Lord? Rona figured it had been her quick decision and downright luck.

“Do you have friends here?”

Friends. Rona’s shoulders lifted in a sigh. “Not really. I met another waitress today named Mandy, but she’s rather young.” Nick’s image sprang to her mind. “And I talked with a man named Nick.”

“Nick? The only Nick I know around here is Nick Thornton.”

Rona’s pulse tripped. “You know him?”

“Everyone knows Nick Thornton. He owns some big businesses around here. Even ran for city council before his wife died. Such a tragedy.”

Relief washed over her, then backlashed and the sensation rocked her. What did she have to be relieved about?

“He’s a good Christian man. If you get tired of working at Harbor Inn, you might ask him about a job. I’m sure he knows what’s happening in town.”

Her mind flew back to the restaurant. She could see Nick’s deep scowl when he said there was work if you knew where to look. They’d become silent while she waited for him to say more, but he hadn’t. “Where should I look?” she’d asked, and his answer had set her back. “At me.”

At him? Had that been what he meant, only that he knew where there were jobs? She’d hoped he’d been referring to his housekeeper position. She eyed her watch. “I suppose I should get back to the motel before I can’t find my way home in the dark.”

“Too late.” Mrs. Bailey swung her arm toward the window. “It’s already dark. You’re welcome to spend the night.”

“Thanks, but I need to get back. Anyway, I’ve been in the dark before.” Rona heard the unintentional irony of her statement.

She’d been in the dark too long, but not anymore. Never again.