Читать книгу Lakeside Family - Lisa Jordan - Страница 9

Chapter One

Josie had spent the past ten years trying to forget Nickolas Brennan existed. And now she needed him more than ever.

Hard to believe after all this time he worked less than two hours from where she lived.

She climbed out of her car, slammed the door and pulled her wool coat tighter. Flipping up the collar to ward off the chill slithering down her spine, Josie slid her purse over her shoulder and trudged through the slushy parking lot toward Twain Hall. The aged brick building, which housed the English department, crested a small knoll with a familiarity to the campus as worn leather patches on a tweed blazer.

Freezing rain stung her cheeks as she waited at the corner for a snow plow to lumber past, leaving a trail of salt on the icy blacktop.

She’d give up her family’s secret Italian doughnut recipe to be lying on a tropical beach somewhere. Anywhere. Didn’t matter as long as sun, sand and surf were involved. And she and Hannah could build sand castles that withstood the constant crashes of life’s harsh realities.

Someday.

She hurried across the street and stared at Twain Hall, with its arched stone doorway and faded redbrick exterior. Evergreen shrubs lipped the building. Two stout trees guarded the wide steps, their bare limbs hunching over the sidewalk, bearing winter’s burden.

No going back now.

Passing through the double doors, she paused to wipe her wet feet on the nubby industrial mat. The scent of disinfectant scorched her throat. Varnished wood molding, walls painted the color of aged parchment and gleaming tile floors greeted her. Photos in heavy wooden frames of men and women wearing stern expressions eyed her from the opposite wall as she passed by. Was Nick’s picture among them? She didn’t stop to check.

Upholstered chairs clustered around a circular table dotted with Starbucks cups where a small group of students gathered. Several balanced open laptops while leafing through textbooks and scribbling in notebooks. One guy lounged with his stretched-out legs crossed at the ankles and head back. His snores bounced off the frosted windows.

A woman, who appeared to be a little older than the other students, sat away from them, but watched with a wistful expression on her face. Josie caught her gaze and smiled, totally understanding how it felt to be on the outside of the circle.

While her friends had shopped for homecoming gowns and pedicures, Josie had bought maternity clothes and put together a nursery. Forget about graduation. Too humiliated to return to school, she had begged her father to homeschool her during her senior year. Her diploma came in the mail.

Josie shelved the memory and focused on her reason for being on campus. She followed the signs to the office and nearly choked on the floral perfume that saturated the air.

A young woman with straight salon-highlighted hair and wearing a black-and-silver Linwood Park Knights hoodie stood behind a counter, texting on her cell phone. Seeing Josie, she closed her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her skinny jeans. “May I help you?”

Josie closed her fingers around the scrap of paper with Nick’s office address, gripping it as if it were a lifeline. “I’m, uh, looking for Dr. Brennan.”

“He’s not in.” The girl, probably a work-study student, pulled out her phone as if to say their conversation was over.

Not so fast, honey.

She should’ve called. But she couldn’t risk him refusing to see her. He had to say yes. Had to.

Josie peeled off her turquoise leather gloves and shoved them in her coat pocket. “Do you know when he will be back?”

“He has class on Monday at eight.” She blew a pink bubble and popped it, not even bothering to look up from her texting.

She couldn’t wait until Monday. She needed to talk to him now.

Josie gripped the edge of the counter and fought to keep her voice calm. “Is there a way to reach him?”

“Leave him a voice mail, I guess.”

“I really need to talk to Dr. Brennan.” Josie cringed at the desperation seeping into her voice. She paused a second to regroup. “If I leave my number with you, would you call him and ask him to contact me as quickly as possible?”

“I guess.” Again, she didn’t bother looking up from where her thumbs danced across the keypad.

Josie balled her hands to keep from reaching over the counter and snatching the phone out of the girl’s hands. “You guess? Listen, honey. Talking with Dr. Brennan is about the last thing on my want-to-do list for today, but my daughter’s life depends on it. So, how about if you stow your phone along with your snotty attitude and try to be a little helpful?”

Campus Barbie rolled her eyes. She closed her phone and shoved it into her back pocket. She flashed a toothpaste commercial smile. “How can I help you?”

If she didn’t need to see Nick so badly, she’d tell the girl exactly how she could help. But Hannah depended on her.

Josie pulled out a business card, scribbled her cell phone number on the back and slid it across the counter. “He can reach me at this number—day or night. Please contact him and have him call me as quickly as possible.”

The girl took her card and nodded toward an older woman wearing a navy suit sitting at a computer with a phone cradled on her shoulder. “I’ll give it to Irene. I have to head to class in ten minutes.”

Josie forced a smile of thanks and strode out of the office, her leather boot heels clicking against the tile. She headed for the front door, passing the row of framed staff photos, then paused. Scanning the faces, she searched for Nick’s. Had he changed much in the past decade?

There. Bottom left. Out of all the photos, he was the only one smiling. Glare from the overhead lights reflected off the glass, blocking a good look at his face. She glanced over her shoulders. Seeing no one in the corridor, she stretched on her tiptoes and pulled his picture down.

With one shoulder leaning against the wall, she stared at his face, turning back time to her junior year when he’d meet her at her locker, sling an arm over her shoulder and walk her to class. After classes, they’d hang out in the school newspaper office and work on the Ridgefield Review.

She traced a finger over the glass covering the one-dimensional image of the only man she loved enough to hand over her heart. He returned it in pieces before he left for college, claiming it was for the best.

Yeah, for him.

“I don’t think those are to take.”

A deep voice corded with humor startled her. She hadn’t heard anyone walking behind her. Heat scalded her throat at getting caught staring at her past.

She jerked away from the wall and stretched to hook the frame back on its anchor. The picture caught on the nail. She dropped her hand only to watch the slow-motion descent of the frame smashing to the floor.

“Oh, no!” She crouched and picked up the frame. Cracks webbed from corner to corner, covering his face. A piece of the wood broke off and skittered across the floor. The man trapped it under his polished black loafer.

Josie wanted to pull her coat over her head and scurry out of the building. Unfortunately life taught her that running from her problems solved nothing.

She stood, refusing to make eye contact with the guy until her face no longer resembled the strawberry smoothie she’d sucked down that morning. Gripping the picture, she turned to face him.

And nearly dropped the frame.

The man standing in front of her with hair the color of her finest Columbian roast and chocolate-drop eyes

crinkling around the edges like her homemade snickerdoodles mirrored the image pressed under the cracked glass. And that smile. It could melt the frosting off her homemade éclairs. For a second, the warmth in his eyes made her feel safe.

Instead of a black-and-white Ridgefield Panthers letterman jacket and jeans, he wore a black suit, white dress shirt and blue-and-green diamond-patterned tie. The lanky boy she had fallen in love with over ten years ago had matured into a man who had the potential to break her heart all over again.

“Nick.” His name came out as a gasp. Her heart raced.

“Yes, but most of my students call me Dr. Brennan.” He took the frame from her hands and shook his head. “It’s official. I’ve cracked.”

Didn’t Campus Barbie say he was out?

“I’m, ah, not one of your students.” She swallowed back the rest of her words. She couldn’t blurt out her reason for coming. Not here in the middle of the hall. She pulled out her gloves and slowly slipped them on, hoping to warm her suddenly chilled fingers.

“Oh, sorry. I just assumed you were a student. Do you make it a habit of removing pictures from walls?”

Was he laughing at her?

“What? No. I just...” What could she say? She wanted a better look at the man who broke her heart? A better look at the man she desperately needed to save her daughter’s life?

He glanced at his watch then the door, as if he had to be someplace. “I was just kidding. I’ll take this back to my office and get it fixed. I need to head out to an appointment. Watch out for falling photographs.” He walked backward a few steps, sent her another one of those dazzling smiles, then rotated on his heel to head back to his office.

“Wait.” She hurried to catch up with him, trying not to let the fact that he didn’t recognize her weigh down her heart.

Nick stopped and turned. His eyes swept over her. He stiffened. She saw the second recognition lit the lightbulb inside his head. A slow smile spread across his face. “Josie Peretti.”

Her stomach shimmied. Only Nick could make her name flow like melted caramel.

“You look amazing.”

“Thanks. Listen—”

“I’d love to stay and catch up, but I really must run. I’m late for an appointment.”

She fished through her purse for another business card, took ten precious seconds to scrawl her cell phone number on the back and thrust it at him. “Please call me after your appointment. It’s important. Please.”

Nick glanced at the card, then tucked it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

Josie’s shoulders sagged as he disappeared into his office. Would he follow through? The Nick she knew once upon a time was always true to his word. She had no idea who he had become.

But it had to be enough.

Okay, God, you opened the door. Please push him through. For Hannah.

Heart thrumming, she hurried back to her car and unlocked it with the remote. As soon as it chirped, she wrenched the door open, hurled herself behind the wheel and slammed the door. She drew in several deep breaths.

If it weren’t for Hannah, she’d walk away and not look back. But it didn’t matter what skeletons the past held, she needed to dig them up to save her daughter’s life.

* * *

Her phone rang constantly when she barely had time to breathe, but when she wanted...hoped for a call, it remained silent.

With her back pressed against the stainless-steel counter, Josie pulled her phone out of her pocket, checking for the hundredth time to see if the ringer was turned up, or if a call had come in but she’d missed it.

Volume was fine.

No calls.

Focus on something else.

She sighed, shoved the phone into her pocket and pulled on two pink pig-shaped oven mitts before reaching into the oven for the browned blueberry muffins. She set the pan on top of the stove next to a cooling apple pie. Sweet sugar scents danced with the spicy cinnamon. Reaching for the baking sheet lined with rows of scooped chocolate chip cookie dough, she slid it in the oven, closed the door and set the timer.

Agnes Levine, her assistant manager, breezed through the swinging kitchen door, leaving a fragrant trail of perfume behind her. With mugs dangling from her ringed fingers, she balanced a stack of plates and set them in the dishpan next to the sink. “Dining room’s cleared, Sugar Pie.”

“Thanks, Agnes.”

Agnes pulled the apron over her head and hung it on the hook by the industrial-size stainless side-by-side refrigerator. “No call yet?”

“Not yet. Guess I’ll have to call the department on Monday. I can’t afford to drive all the way out there again.” Josie filled the deep sink with soapy water and added a splash of bleach.

“You think Sorority Sally passed on the message?”

Josie’s lips twitched at Agnes’s nickname for the student in Nick’s office. “Campus Barbie? I hope so. We’re running out of time.”

“How’s Hannah doing?”

“Same. Tired, but still keeps smiling.” Josie pulled on a pair of yellow gloves and stuck her hand in one of the glass mugs. She stared out the window at the smudged sky of mauve hues blended with lavender and gray. The same colors as Hannah’s bruises.

Agnes leaned a hip against the sink and cupped Josie’s cheek. “How’s her mama doing?”

Josie’s eyes drifted to the suds in the sink, watching bubbles rise to the surface of the dishwater and pop. Kind of like her dreams. “Praying for a miracle that seems out of reach.”

“Where’s your faith, girl?”

“I think it’s stored in a shoebox in my closet or some other place where I’d need a step stool to reach it.” She attempted a smile, but the muscles in her cheeks refused to cooperate.

Agnes wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “See, that’s the great thing about faith—the more you need, the bigger it grows. That little ole mustard seed turns into a mighty tree. Takes some watering, though.”

Did tears count?

Josie closed her eyes. Her daughter’s face with the dark circles and blotchy cheeks swam behind her eyelids. God, you work miracles. Please give one to Hannah.

Agnes rinsed the rest of the dishes and stacked them to dry. “You need to get out of here and go home to that sweet child.”

“I have a few more things to do. You go ahead. I can finish up here.”

The timer dinged.

Agnes reached for the oven mitts. “I’ll take care of these. You do what you gotta do, so we can both get out of here.”

As Agnes removed the batch of cookies from the oven and transferred them to the cooling rack, Josie headed into the dining room to close out the register.

Her shoulders sagged as she stuffed the receipts and cash into the bank bag and tried not to let today’s lack of customers discourage her. All businesses had slow days, right? She blamed it on the weather. Or at least she hoped that was it. She couldn’t afford to close her doors like other small businesses in the area had done in recent months. She needed the insurance for Hannah’s medical bills.

Shadows of the flames from the electric fireplace crawled up the ice-blue walls and reflected off the framed prints of European cafes. She flipped the switch. The flames flickered, then died out.

“Sugar Pie, I’m outta here.” Agnes wrapped a designer scarf around her cinnamon-colored curls like an old Hollywood movie star. Long and leggy, the transplanted Texan had a heart the size of Dallas.

“Thanks for covering for me today, Agnes.”

“Anytime. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” She winked, blew Josie a kiss and then headed out the front door.

Rusted Christmas bells hanging from a tattered ribbon—drooping with age and faded from sunlight—jangled against the glass as Agnes pulled the door closed behind her. Leftover from the previous owners of the old Baker’s Hardware. Josie considered replacing them with shiny, polished bells when she redid the place. But they added charm, character. They reminded Josie of what used to be.

Things were different now. A fresh start. New paint covered the scars, the imperfections.

The trendy coffee shop on the corner. A new beginning.

Her blends and fresh baked pastries whetted appetites more than a block away. Pride or ego didn’t tell her that. Her bank balance suggested, for once in her life, Josie had made a right choice. Business would pick back up again. It had to.

She’d give it all up, every drop and crumb, to have her daughter healthy again.

Bells from the old stone church down the street rang out the seventh hour, each note reminding Josie she needed to get moving. Hannah needed her.

The bells above the front door rattled again, startling Josie from her thoughts. A quick glance at the clock showed she was five minutes late in closing and had forgotten to turn the sign.

A man stepped through the door, closing it behind him. Dressed in a brown bomber jacket, cream cable-knit sweater and khaki cargo pants, he looked as if he had stepped from the pages of an Eddie Bauer catalog. The only thing missing was a pair of Ray-Ban aviators.

“I’m sorry, but I’m just about to close.” Josie headed for the door to flip the sign to CLOSED, but when the man turned and smiled, her footsteps stalled. “Nick. You c-came.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Hope you don’t mind a visit instead of a phone call. I have to admit seeing you at the university surprised me. It’s been a long time.”

She nodded, wishing her voice wasn’t clogged in her throat like a spoonful of peanut butter.

His long legs ate up the distance between them in a few strides. He reached for her hands, held her at arm’s length and gave her a once-over. “Wow, you look incredible.” He glanced around. “Owning a coffeehouse agrees with you. Decided against being a travel journalist, huh? Dreams can change.”

She pulled her hands away and clasped them behind her back. She couldn’t afford to let his charm soften her heart. She had a responsibility to Hannah. “Motherhood has a way of doing that.”

“You have a child? You and your husband must be very blessed. Congratulations.”

She jerked back as if she had been slapped. “Congratulations? Seriously?”

“Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry. I just assumed...”

He rubbed his earlobe and stared over her shoulder.

“You’re acting like you have no clue.” She moved to the nearest table, straightening the chairs and centering the votive candles.

Nick gripped the back of one of the chairs. “Should I have known? I haven’t been back to Ridgefield since graduation. How long ago did you leave?”

“Couldn’t shake the dust from your boots fast enough, could you?” She snatched a Family Circle magazine off the couch and dropped it in the large wicker basket next to the fireplace.

Nick leveled her with a direct look. “What’s going on here, Josie? Let’s try again. It is good to see you.”

“Is it?” She glared at him, then headed behind the counter for a cloth and bottle of sanitizer.

Nick released the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What did I do to make you so angry?”

Josie spritzed sanitizer on the table. “You didn’t call, Nick. Not once. Not even when...not even when she was born. You weren’t there.” She scrubbed at the coffee ring embossed on the table, then threw down the rag. No use. The scar remained.

“But we had broken up.” He took a step toward her. “What did you expect?”

Josie held up a hand, and he stopped. “I expected you to be responsible.”

He held up his hands, palms to the ceiling. “Responsible for what? I’m so lost a GPS couldn’t bring me back to the starting point.”

She dropped onto the couch in front of the fireplace and massaged her forehead. “I needed you.”

Nick rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Just tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Two years ago, my daughter, Hannah, was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia.”

Nick sat on the matching chair across from her. “I’m so sorry.”

“She went into remission, but the leukemia has come back. Now her doctor is recommending a bone marrow transplant. I’ve been tested, but I’m not a match. Testing her other parent is the most logical choice right now.”

He shot her a puzzled look. “What does that have to do with me?”

Josie jumped to her feet and planted her fists on her hips. “Are you seriously this clueless, Professor? Choosing not to be a part of your daughter’s life doesn’t disqualify you from being her father.”