Читать книгу Hometown Reunion - Lisa Carter - Страница 13
ОглавлениеWith more than a little reluctance, Darcy went inside the shop again with Shirley. Jax turned from the display kiosk. At his feet, Brody was stuffing a child-size Osprey backpack with everything within reach.
Jax tried taking hold of the pack. But scowling, his son hugged the lime-green bag to his chest.
“Brody likes to zip things,” Jax murmured. “He was just playing. I’ll put everything back where it belongs.”
“It’s your store. You can do what you want.” She motioned to the backpack Brody clutched. “I like lime-green, too.”
Jax shot her a glance. “I remember.”
She ignored his overture. “Are you going on an expedition, Brody?”
Lips set in a thin line, Brody unzipped the bag. One by one, he removed the items he’d stashed, holding them up for her inspection. Cords, a pair of waterproof gloves, and carabiners. Which he clicked open and shut.
She smiled over his head to Jax. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a budding outdoorsman.”
Uncoiling a notch, he gave her a tentative smile.
Shirley took hold of the little boy’s hand. “You two should get to work. Since Brody’s packed his gear, we’ll take a stroll around the square. Take in the sights.”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “That should take about five minutes.” She helped Brody slip the pack on his back and tighten the straps.
“True.” Shirley headed for the door. “But I also need more experience with little ones before I head to Florida this afternoon.”
Darcy spent the next thirty minutes familiarizing Jax with shop merchandise and the online accounting system.
At a flicker of movement on the sandy beach outside, she looked up and saw Shirley giving Brody a beginner lesson on entering and exiting a kayak. The ecoentrepreneur didn’t know much about children, but when in doubt, she fell back on what she did know. And Shirley knew kayaking.
Brody was too cute in his navy blue crocs, his legs straddling the child-sized kayak.
And with Jax engrossed in perusing the company website, she took her first good look at Brody’s father. As lanky as ever, tall like all the Pruitt men. Corded muscles rippled along his forearms.
He’d fulfilled the physical potential of the boy she’d once known. Always handsome with his brown hair and melted-chocolate eyes. Problem was, back then he knew it. He knew just how to use his charm and good looks to his advantage.
The clean, pleasing aroma of his soap teased her nostrils. Her pulse jumped. She jolted at Jax’s voice.
“How do you schedule the outings?”
The faster she updated Jaxon Pruitt on the business he’d bought out from under her, the faster she could return to her own life. Clicking the mouse, she showed him how to access the booking calendar.
“We offer one- to three-day kayaking expeditions, in addition to half-day trips. Anything from day-tripping to navigating the entire hundred-mile length of the Seaside Water Trail. From the tip of the peninsula at Cape Charles north to Chincoteague.”
“Aunt Shirley did this by herself?”
Darcy shrugged. “After high school, I came on full-time. We worked in tandem on the water. But in the last few years, I’ve led the paddle groups while Shirley coordinated details at the shop.”
Jax ticked through the website tabs. “Where do clients overnight on multiday expeditions?”
“For the more adventurous, we pitch tents on the barrier islands. Others prefer accommodations at B and Bs we’ve established relationships with, like the Duer Inn.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Of course, you’ll need to teach paddle school before every excursion. And memorize the chart routes.” At his dazed look, she stopped. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yeah.” His shoulders drooped.
At the uncertainty blanketing his features, a begrudging compassion filled her. “It will get easier, Jax.”
His gaze cut to hers. “Will it?”
Darcy’s breath hitched at his bleak expression. “Like riding a swell, it’ll come back. You’ll catch up.” Her heart pounded. “I’ll help.”
“I need all the help I can get.” His gaze shifted to the window. “Brody likes you.” Jax’s eyes dropped to the keyboard. “He’s been so closed-off since his mother died. I’d begun to think he’d never—” His voice choked.
The Jax she remembered wasn’t given to displays of emotion.
She closed the laptop. “Brody is a sweetheart. It’s entirely my pleasure to know your son.”
Giving Jax time to recover his self-control, she went over the list of gear presented to clients after booking an excursion.
He shuffled through a folder he’d brought with him. “I’ve been thinking about a new marketing strategy to lure in more locals. What if we—”
“Not a good idea.”
His nostrils flared. “How about listening before you dismiss my ideas?”
She jutted her chin. “How long has it been since you’ve been kayaking, Jax?”
His chiseled features hardened. “A while. Adrienne was from Utah. She preferred to snow ski.”
“Well, here’s a little news flash for you. Nothing—including kayaking—stood still while you were spanning the globe.”
“I never said—”
“Typical Jaxon Pruitt. Always assuming he knows more than he really does.”
He gritted his teeth. “That’s not fair. Hear me out.”
“Based on experience, I know locals aren’t interested in the tours we operate. Nor, for the most part, able to pay the premium we charge.”
“Darcy, I’ve been reading—”
“Reading?” She sniffed. “If only your high school English teacher had lived to see the day.”
Jax exhaled. “Look, for this partnership to work we’re both going to have to get on board with compromise. As the new owner, I think—”
“I wouldn’t get on board with you, Jaxon Pruitt, if the ship was sinking and you were the last lifeboat available.”
“Darcy, if you’d just—”
Scraping her chair across the tile, she rose. “We’re done.”
He got to his feet. “You’d rather drown than paddle with me?” His jaw went rock solid. “Fine.”
Toe to toe with him, she glared. “Great.”
His brows furrowed. “Fantastic.”
She started for the door, her flip-flops punctuating her angry stride. “A jock like you shouldn’t use big words he doesn’t know how to spell.”
“Takes one to know one.”
She wheeled. “Did you call me a jock?”
Confusion flickered in his dark eyes. “Tomboy Darcy would’ve taken it as a compliment.”
“Tomboys grow up.” She curled her lip. “Something you should try.”
“I didn’t mean...” He growled. “Why do you have to be so obstinate, Darcy Parks? So hardheaded? So—”
She whirled toward the door. “Like you say, takes one to know one.” Never looking back, she fluttered her hand over her shoulder. “Goodbye. Good riddance. Have yourself a good life, Jaxon Pruitt.”
“Darce...”
Storming out, bell jangling, she let the slamming door frame her response.
Her and Jaxon Pruitt work together? Impossible. He was impossible. Same old arrogant jerk. She must’ve been delusional, imagining he’d acquired even a shred of humility.
She was breathing hard when she flung herself inside the SUV. Strangling the wheel, she forced herself to take a cleansing breath. Of all the people she’d ever known, Jaxon Pruitt possessed a rare ability to send her into orbit.
After cranking the key in the ignition, she pulled out of the parking lot and passed her father’s car at the church. On Saturday afternoons, he liked to practice preaching his sermon to the empty sanctuary. Reverend Parks would’ve told her she needed to pray about her attitude. Like Jax didn’t?
When she rounded the village green, one of the volunteer firefighters waved from the open bay of the station. Small town friendliness. Some things never changed. Which used to drive her crazy. But now?
There was something incredibly soothing and comforting about the unchanging rhythm of life on the Eastern Shore. As predictable as the tide. A surety in an otherwise uncertain world that, at age thirty, she’d finally learned to appreciate.
A cocoon of safety... She grimaced. Until Jaxon and his heart-stealing son had arrived.
Completing her drive-by of the square, she turned into one of the residential side streets radiating out from the green like the spokes of a wheel.
Oaks and maples arched over the street. Streaming through the foliage, sunshine splattered the sidewalk. Averting her gaze from Jaxon’s family home, she pulled into the driveway of the neighboring Victorian parsonage, her home since birth.
Such a cliché. Literally, the girl next door. After parking in the half-circle drive, she trudged toward the backyard, where Shore folk did most of their living. She was careful to keep her eyes averted from the towering tree between the Parks and Pruitt yards as she plodded up the concrete steps to the screened porch.
Darcy let the door slam behind her. It was that kind of day. “Mom?”
“In here.”
Stepping out of her flip-flops, she ventured inside the house. Her mother straightened from the oven, a casserole dish cradled in her mitted hands. Coils of steam rose from the lasagna. Mouthwatering aromas permeated the kitchen.
Agnes smiled. “I made the lasagna this morning. After talking with Shirley at the Sandpiper, I only had to reheat the pan.”
Darcy glanced at the kitchen clock. “Kind of early for dinner.”
Her mother placed the hot dish in a padded, insulated carrier. “Not by the time you take this out to Shirley’s house for Jaxon.”
“Oh, no, I’m not.”
Agnes cocked her head. “Shirley left those boys with only milk in the fridge and cereal in the pantry.”
Hands raised, Darcy stepped back. “One of those boys is a combat veteran. He can fend for himself.”
“But Jaxon always loved my lasagna.”
Darcy gave her a brittle smile. “Since nobody’s seen him in fourteen years, maybe it’s the only thing he loved about his hometown.”
Her mom’s denim-blue eyes softened.
Darcy stiffened. She knew the look. The kill-her-with-kindness approach. She must not weaken. She must not...
“I don’t think that’s true, Darcy.” Her mother shifted to her I’m-so-disappointed-in-you look. “And what’s more, I don’t think you believe that, either.”
“Jax can buy his own groceries. He can fix his own dinner. He doesn’t need our help.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Agnes’s mouth quirked. “Jaxon will have his hands full getting settled into his new home tonight. Think of his son.”
Adorable Brody Pruitt was the last person she wanted to think about. No, that wasn’t true. Brody’s father was the last person she wanted to think about.
Her mother gestured next door. “With his parents out of town, they probably haven’t had a decent meal yet.”
“Jax looked just fine to me.”
“Did he now?” Her mother’s eyes twinkled.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Darcy bit her lip.
Agnes placed a container of pimento cheese into a wicker basket. “They’re both too skinny. Especially Brody. He’s a growing boy. He needs to eat.”
Darcy folded her arms. “Why don’t you take it to them?”
“Your father would want to make sure Jaxon and his little orphan son were properly welcomed home...”
It was all Darcy could do not to roll her eyes at the word orphan. But being the dutiful daughter she’d always been, she didn’t. PKs—preacher’s kids—never behaved disrespectfully.
Then her beloved mother played her last, most effective card.
“I guess when your dad returns...” Agnes placed a bunch of bananas in the basket. “Although your father usually tries to rest before his busiest day of the week. But we could drop everything... Head out there...” She emitted a long-drawn-out sigh.
Darcy thrust out her hand. “Just give me the basket, Mom. I’ll take it out there, already.”
Her mother beamed. “How nice of you to offer.”
Darcy snorted. Not only unladylike, but also very unPK.
Her mother’s unique blend of strong-armed gentleness would have made her a superb peace negotiator. But perhaps as a pastor’s wife, that’s exactly what she was—navigating the not-always-serene waters of Kiptohanock life.
Agnes removed a pie from the refrigerator. “Shirley tells me you still need to brief Jaxon on the map route for the upcoming excursion.”
“How did you—?” Darcy glanced at the old-fashioned landline phone hanging on the wall. “You and Shirley were pretty sure of yourselves, weren’t you, Mom?”
“By now, Shirl’s probably on her way to the toll plaza at the bridge.” Agnes smoothed her apron. “Don’t be angry. I felt confident you’d do the right thing. As you always do.”
That was her. Boring, dutiful Darcy. PK extraordinaire.
Her mother plucked a loaf of bread off the countertop. “Besides, don’t you think it’s time you confronted this thing between you and Jaxon?”
Mouth gaping, eyes wide—with horror—Darcy drew up. “There isn’t a thing between Jax and me.”
Her mom arched her eyebrow. “Then what’s the big deal in helping him for a few months?”
Darcy’s heart raced. “The big deal is...” She threw out her hands. “No one seems to understand that I’m the wronged one here.”
Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “Tell me the truth. Why are you so afraid of helping Jaxon?”
Darcy sucked in a breath. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“No, my dear brave girl.” Her mother touched her arm. “You’re afraid of yourself.”
She jerked free. “That’s not true.”
“I think your father and I made the nest too cozy. But that’s no way to live, honey. It’s time to venture out. Test your wings and fly.” She placed her palm against Darcy’s cheek. “Don’t lock your heart away from the possibility of a new life.”
Was her mom right? Was she afraid to reach for more? “Shirley told you about me moving to Florida?”
Agnes fiddled with a tray of deli meat and sandwich rolls.
Darcy blinked. “How long have you and Shirley been planning this ambush, Mom?”
“Shirley came to us with the decision to sell the business to Jaxon.” Her mother gave Darcy a small smile. “A decision with which your father and I agreed. We see a lot of Shirley in you.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Shirley has built a successful business.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being independent. But at this point in her life, her choices have left her lonely. Your father and I, we want more for you.”
“Dad is in on this, too?”
“Your father wants to see you happy.” Moisture filled Agnes’s eyes. “God—via Shirley—has given you another opportunity.”
“So you’d both be okay if I move to Florida?”
Her mother gave a slow nod. “If Florida will make you truly happy.”
Almost Shirley’s exact words.
“Did moving to the parsonage make you truly happy, Mom?”
Agnes gripped the basket handle. “It did.” But her mouth tightened.
They were Harold Parks’s second family. Thirty-five years ago, his first wife and son had tragically died in a car accident. Something Darcy’s father never spoke about. Her mother, either.
His replacement wife. His runner-up family. Like Darcy with the Florida business. And she was tired of feeling like the runner-up, the consolation prize.
Did her mother know that every August 14 her father visited the tiny cemetery outside town?
“I’m not like you, Mom. Not everyone wants to be a wife and mother.” She lifted her chin. “I’d never be happy at the beck and call of the entire village.”
Her mother straightened. “Maybe not. But pursuing your dreams doesn’t have to exclude loving relationships.” Her forehead puckered. “Don’t waste this chance or this summer, Darcy. For your own sake, sweetheart. Please.”
“Your kind of happiness won’t work for me.”
“But Darcy, suppose this summer is about more than kayaking?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Her mother flipped the basket lid shut. “Life is a journey. Like love. And you never know what might lie beyond the next bend.”
Darcy huffed. “Better paddle harder. I think I hear banjos.”
Her mother—pastor’s wife, former social worker and everyone’s favorite friend—crinkled her eyes at Darcy. “If nothing else, be kind to a lonely little boy who’s lost his mother and everything he ever knew.”
Bull’s eye. The chink in Darcy’s armor. Despite being an only child—maybe because of being a lonely only—she loved children.
And so fifteen minutes later, she stowed the basket in the SUV. Her mother waved from the front lawn.
Darcy told herself she was doing this only for Brody. She couldn’t get the image of his sad face out of her mind, and thoughts of the withdrawn little guy lay heavy on her heart. Getting an idea, she made a quick detour north on Highway 13 to the dollar store.
The vibe between Jax and his son continued to gnaw at her. Back in the car, she ventured off the main road toward Shirley’s wooded farmhouse, situated on an isolated neck of the inlet.
Was her mom right? Was this summer about more than merely keeping a business afloat? Turning off Seaside Road, the SUV bounced across the rutted drive.
On the football field, Jax had possessed a daring recklessness. Like each of the overachieving Pruitts—Ben the Annapolis grad, Will the firefighter, dad and brother Charlie deputy sheriffs—fear had never been a factor for Green Beret Jax.
But now? A memory arose in her mind of an incident that had happened a few years ago, after the hurricane tore through Kiptohanock.
A golden retriever had floundered in the harbor off the jetty. In the dog’s eyes she’d beheld the same expression she’d glimpsed in Jax’s face this afternoon when he gazed at his son. Despair and an overwhelming fear.
Steering the SUV through the grove of trees, she winced at the memory of that day. Losing strength, the retriever had appeared about to go under. Just like Jaxon Pruitt?
Disturbed by the comparison, she gripped the wheel. She’d dived into the churning water without hesitation to rescue the dog. And kept the retriever afloat long enough for a Coastie to jump in and get them both to safety. Later, the owners had gratefully reclaimed their pet.
Was that what God wanted her to do with Jax and Brody? Get them to a safe place? Was this summer about keeping them afloat until they gained a foothold of trust with each other? At stake was Brody’s relationship with his dad.
As to her own continuing proximity with Brody’s widowed father? Darcy released a slow trickle of breath. This wouldn’t end well.
Because where Jaxon Pruitt was concerned, it never had. Not for her.
