Читать книгу His Small-Town Family - Lorraine Beatty - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Ethan shook the hand of Reverend Stoddard, uttered a few polite phrases and stepped outside into the Sunday morning sunshine. Two different sermons today had provided plenty of spiritual strengthening. He’d attended Peace Community’s early service, eager to hear Jim Barrett preach. Then after a quick cup of coffee and a sweet roll at the Magnolia Café, he’d crossed the park and attended the late service at Hope Chapel. He’d enjoyed both services, but if he was going to join the PTSD group that Jim had referred him to here, he needed to support the church. That meant attending Hope Chapel on a regular basis.

As he took the steps down to the sidewalk, someone called his name. He looked around to see a giant of a man coming toward him, hand outstretched and a friendly smile on his face.

“You’re Ethan Stone, aren’t you? I’m Ron Morrison. Jim Barrett told me about you.”

He nodded and shook the man’s hand. Ethan stood an inch over six feet, but Ron’s bulk made him feel short. Ron ran the only PTSD support group in Dover. “How did you know who I was?”

“Jim Barrett gave me a good description. Besides, I know the look.”

Ethan smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

Ron gestured toward the sidewalk. “Why don’t we go over here and talk, if you have the time?”

Ethan fell into step beside him until he stopped at a dark blue Silverado parked at the curb near the end of the block.

Ron pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Ethan. “We meet every Wednesday night in a room off the church gym. It’s not a large group. We average around five men, sometimes up to eight or ten. There’s no pressure to talk or share. You do that when you’re ready, or not at all. I just wanted you to know you’re welcome, and we’re here if you need us.”

The card had Ron’s number and the church’s office number. He’d made a lot of progress in the past ten months. The flashbacks were under control, even though they still lurked in the dark edges of his mind, and it had been months since he’d had a nightmare. But he also knew ongoing support was vital. Paul had taught him to take it one step at a time. Face one fear at a time. He planned on following his friend’s advice. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Ron shook his hand. “We’re all in this together. Don’t forget that.”

Ethan crossed over into the lush park surrounding the courthouse, his gaze taking in the charming nineteenth-century town. Dover, Mississippi, was exactly as Paul had described. From the town square with its majestic courthouse, bandstand and giant live-oak trees, to the charming brick buildings lined up on each side.

April in Mississippi was a riot of color. Pink, red and white azalea bushes and colorful vines exploded from every corner. His photographer’s eye automatically began composing the perfect angles to capture the spring display. But he didn’t have a camera anymore and he wouldn’t ever again. He’d spent his entire life with the lens between himself and the real world. No longer.

“Afternoon, sir.” A soldier dressed in camouflage fatigues strolled passed, nodding a greeting.

Every muscle in Ethan’s body tensed. Caught off guard, the steel gate holding back his memories shook violently, allowing pieces of the darkness to slip through the cracks. He fought to maintain emotional control and keep his anxiety at bay.

The Lord is my shepherd. The twenty-third psalm had been his anchor during recovery. Slowly the emotional storm in his chest eased, and he started back down the sidewalk.

It had all happened too quick. One minute he had been taking pictures of the soldiers on patrol and locals at the neighborhood market, his lens focused on a mother and infant who had stepped into the frame. The next, fire and debris had rocked him off his feet. He’d continued shooting, keeping the lens to his eye, but the image that emerged shredded his soul. The mother and infant who had been standing near the market were lying on the ground.

Something in his soul had died in that moment.

The next thing he remembered was waking up in a hospital with shrapnel in his arm, a concussion and his emotions churning inside his gut like a tornado. Ten months later, here he was, still trying to get past what he’d seen, vowing to never take another photograph again.

After stopping at Filler-Up-Burgers, a charming old gas-station-turned-restaurant, Ethan returned to his small room at the Dixiana Motor Lodge on the edge of town. The old-style motel was right out of a 1940s postcard. Small cabins laid out in an L shape were connected by a common roof and separated by narrow openings for parking a car. The interior provided all the modern conveniences, though the decor was a throwback to another era. After only a few days, however, the room was starting to close in on him. He’d have to find an apartment or a house to rent now that he’d gotten a job and was committed to remaining in Dover. Maybe he’d ask his new boss for some suggestions.

He was looking forward to work tomorrow. Working at Latimer’s would give him a purpose and cover the service part of his rehabilitation. Ron’s group would provide the talking. Both were important keys to managing his PTSD. The service part he embraced. The talking, not so much. But as much as he hated to admit it, talking did help. With the Lord’s help, he’d learn to open up more, letting go of the fears one memory at a time until the past no longer had a stranglehold on his mind.

Paul’s advice had been spot-on. Dover was the perfect place to find himself, to start fresh. Nothing here would drag him down into the darkness. He knew without a doubt that the Lord had brought him here to begin again.

All he wanted now was someplace quiet and peaceful to make a fresh start. He wanted roots. Permanence. He’d lost himself on a dusty street in Afghanistan, and he’d come to Dover to find out who he was now and where he would go from here.

* * *

“Good morning.”

The deep baritone with the husky rasp sent an unwelcome tingle along Nicki’s nerves. She didn’t want to notice Ethan Stone. Not as a man, anyhow. Only as an employee. A much-needed and efficient employee. One who arrived on time on a Monday morning, ready to work.

“Hi.” She glanced up to find him standing on the threshold of her office, that lopsided smile softening his chiseled features. It would be easier to think of him as someone who worked for her if he weren’t so handsome. So capable and so disturbing. Thankfully he was a man of few words who went about his job with efficiency and determination.

He looked more intriguing today. The stubble did little to hide the strong square jaw and high cheekbones below those beautiful brown eyes. He wore an unbuttoned red cotton shirt over a white T-shirt and dark jeans that hugged his legs. He was the image of strength and dependability, two things she needed right now.

She’d learned the hard way not to depend on anyone but herself. She’d teach her daughter that lesson early. The only thing she needed to depend on now was that Ethan would hang around long enough to help her get the new layout in place. She was holding out hope that Gary’s findings wouldn’t drastically alter her plan to remodel Latimer’s.

“Would you like me working back in the stockroom today?”

For some reason, she had a hard time seeing Ethan working in a stockroom, even though he’d worked there all afternoon on Saturday. He looked more suited to the outdoors. She could easily see him leading a safari or heading up some archaeological dig or maybe even exploring jungles. She brushed the fanciful thoughts aside. “Uh. No, actually, I have some sales I need to set and fixtures I want moved.”

He nodded. “Point the way.”

Nicki stood and came around her desk. She’d anticipated Ethan stepping back out of the doorway to let her through. Instead he stepped farther into the office. They collided in the doorway, wedged together. Nicki found herself with her hands pressed against his chest and with Ethan’s hands grasping her upper arms. She refused to meet his gaze, but she couldn’t ignore the warmth under her palms or the solid mass of his chest as it rose and fell beneath her hands. She held her breath, forcing herself to focus.

“Uh, the display window.” She pushed past him into the hall, taking with her the lingering scent of soap and musky aftershave. She made a mental note to keep a safe distance from Ethan Stone.

“First, I want to dismantle this window display. Then these smaller shelves down here need to be taken apart and stored. You can put the merchandise in the back for now. I want two gateleg tables placed end to end right here. You’ll find them in the stockroom near the furnace.”

Ethan stood beside her listening intently, hands resting on his lean hips. “Having a sale?”

“Yes. A ‘Get a Jump on School’ sale. All this old merchandise has got to go.” She turned to find his lopsided grin in place. Like before, it warmed his dark eyes, but this time she was close enough to read the glint of appreciation in his gaze. For her? Silly thought. She took a step back only to snag her jeans on the corner of one of the old aluminum shelves. She tilted backward. Ethan’s strong hand clamped on to her arm. She grabbed his other arm to steady herself, acutely aware of the muscles beneath her hand. Quickly, she let go and straightened. What was wrong with her today? When had she become such a klutz? “See why I want these things out of here?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Moving to the wooden checkout counter positioned deep inside the store on the east wall, she tapped it lightly. “I’d like to move this counter closer to the front door.”

Ethan hunkered down, tapped the wood, examined the base, then stood and did the same on the other side. “I think it’s only screwed down. It shouldn’t be too hard to move it. It’ll leave some ugly scars on the floorboards though.”

“Can you do that? Move it, I mean?”

“Yes. But are you sure you want to?” He stood brushing dust off his hands. “Putting it closer to the door might create a congestion problem on busy days. The customers coming in are going to be forced to move around the ones in line.”

He was right. Nicki’d been thinking only of the aesthetics, not the practicality. Her poor judgment at work again. She bit her bottom lip. “I’ll think about it. Let’s leave it for now.”

After Nicki pointed out a few more changes she wanted to do quickly, Ethan went back to the stockroom, and she went to check on Sadie. After her talk with her mother the other night, Nicki had harbored some doubts about hiring Ethan without properly vetting him. Her confidence in her ability to make good decisions was fragile, and her mother’s comments had stirred her insecurities like the blades of a blender. Now Nicki knew she’d made the right choice. Ethan was capable, handy and willing to follow her direction.

Nicki tiptoed into the small room off the office, which she’d transformed into a mini nursery, to check on Sadie and found her sleeping soundly. She never tired of watching her little daughter. Gently, she stroked her downy soft hair, listening to her sweet baby breaths. Her heart swelled with a love so strong tears threatened to burst forth. How was it possible to love one small person this much?

Back at her desk, she checked on the store bank account. Her dad had followed through. The account balance now showed a healthy total. There was enough to pay the outstanding bills and make most of the changes she wanted to do. Of course, it all hinged on what Gary found in the books.

Movement drew her attention to the doorway as Ethan walked past, carrying a bulky gateleg table in each hand. He carried them as if they were nothing more than sheets of cardboard, though the muscles in his upper arms attested to their actual weight. She had to drag the things step by step whenever she wanted to move them. Having a strong man to help around the store would be a blessing. Charlie had been a faithful employee, but he was a slightly built, thoughtful man who would rather help the customers than wrestle the boxes in the stockroom.

A few minutes later, Ethan stopped in the door, tapping lightly on the frame to get her attention. “The tables are up.”

“Thank you. I’ll show you where the other things are in a moment.”

He nodded. “I didn’t see a time clock or a sign-out sheet anyplace. How do you want me to keep track of my hours?”

“Oh. We use the honor system. Arrive at nine unless we’ve made other arrangements. An hour for lunch. Leave at six. Same with overtime. You tell me what you worked, I’ll pay you for it.”

“You must have had trusted employees in the past.”

“I did.” She hoped that she could trust him, as well.

His eyes warmed again, and the corner of his mouth moved. Without a word, he patted the door frame lightly and turned away, only to turn back again and catch her gaze. “You can trust me, Ms. Latimer.”

“Nicki. You can call me Nicki.”

He smiled. “Nicki it is.”

Nicki blinked, unable to look away. He’d smiled. A heart-stopping, knee-weakening, melt-your-insides smile that created deep creases at the corners of his mouth and revealed strong white teeth made more dazzling against his tanned skin. She swallowed through the sudden dryness in her throat, feeling dazed and warm all over.

He disappeared down the hall, and she released a pent-up breath, fanning herself with her hands to ease the heat in her cheeks. A moment later, she heard the thump of a box landing on the floor and the whiz of a utility knife slicing through tape. A sense of confidence washed through her—something she hadn’t felt for a very long time. She’d made a good decision hiring Ethan. Hopefully it was the first of many more. If she could collect enough good decisions, maybe they would bury the one horrible one she’d made when she’d married Brad.

* * *

Ethan rolled his shoulders, wincing at the twinge. His back was sore, his neck ached, and his legs were protesting the stooping and lifting he’d done all morning. But he felt better than he had in months. Honest work. Simple work. And nothing to trigger a memory from his past. All in all, it had been a good morning.

He wasn’t sure what had triggered his small flashback yesterday. Perhaps seeing the soldier or anxiety over joining a new PTSD group. Thankfully he’d been able to hold off the images. This time.

He could hear Nicki in the front of the store, her voice warm and pleasant as she waited on a customer. She had a way of making each person feel that their business was appreciated. He was going to like working here. He liked working for Nicki. She was a confident, capable woman. Yet there was also something fragile about her, as if her determination and confidence could shatter at any moment. Nicki Latimer was an interesting combination of strength and softness.

Her vulnerability triggered his protective instincts, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. And noticing an attractive woman made him feel human again. He’d spent too much time trying to survive. It was nice to experience normal reactions again.

Ethan pried the shipping label from a small box, turning to glance at Nicki as she strode into the stockroom and went to the storage closet. Sliding the blade back into the box cutter, he watched as she rummaged through the shelves a moment, then pulled out a new lightbulb, shut the cabinet and reached for the four-foot folding stepladder leaning against the wall.

She smiled over her shoulder, holding up the bulb. “Light’s out in my office.”

“Need some help?”

“No. I can do it myself.”

He watched her walk away, lugging the awkward stool, her shoulders squared. The defiant tone in her voice piqued his curiosity. Maybe he should keep an eye on her. He wasn’t comfortable with her climbing an old step stool without someone to steady it.

He found her in her office, stool unfolded and placed squarely beneath the light fixture. The office ceiling was at least ten feet. To reach the socket she’d have to stand on the top step, and even then it would be a stretch. He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Let me do that.”

She pulled the lightbulb out of his reach, her blue eyes darkening to navy. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m perfectly capable of changing a lightbulb.”

Ethan held her gaze, surprised to see fear flash through her blue eyes. Her posture was rigid. Her jaw was set. He held her eyes a moment longer, wishing he could understand and help somehow. But right now, discretion was called for. He stepped to the front of the ladder, steadying it with both hands, and waited.

Slowly, the tension eased from her shoulders. She inhaled a deep breath and grasped the side of the ladder, bulb in the other hand. The front bell chimed, halting her on the first step. She glanced from the doorway back to him, clearly torn between completing her task and greeting the new customer.

He held out his hand. “I’ll finish up here. If that’s okay.” His offer was rewarded with a sweet smile that sent his heart on an odd roller-coaster ride.

“Thanks.”

Ethan watched her hurry away, then quickly replaced the lightbulb and returned the step stool to the stockroom. His curiosity about his new boss was fully engaged now. He wanted to know what had caused the fear in her blue eyes. Whatever it was, he’d be keeping a close eye on her from now on. She was prone to acts of recklessness.

A loud rumble from his stomach an hour later reminded Ethan that it was lunchtime. While Nicki had insisted they were on the honor system, he wanted to at least notify her he was leaving. He decided to try the deli around the corner today.

Striding out of the stockroom, he peeked in the office door. It was empty, but he could hear her speaking softly in the back room. He grinned, tugging on his earlobe. Maybe she was the kind who talked to herself. Another thing that made her interesting.

He heard her giggle before she stepped back into the office. He looked over at her, teasing words on the tip of his tongue. He froze. Blood drained from his face. His heart refused to beat. Ice filled his veins.

Nicki stood in the middle of the office with an infant in her arms. She cradled the baby against her shoulder, patting its back and cooing sweetly. Ethan recoiled at the image. His vision flickered between the woman and child in front of him and the woman and child in Afghanistan. One minute together. The next... Claws of horror pierced the back of his mind. He tried to focus on Nicki and the baby, but the image of the others on the ground—broken, torn—intruded. He was sucked back to a dusty street in Afghanistan. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move or even think.

“Oh, Ethan. I want you to meet my daughter, Sadie.”

Her voice penetrated his senses slowly like molasses dripping from a spoon. He had to get away. Now. “Yeah. I’m...lunch.”

“Ethan. Are you all right?”

Ethan looked from Nicki’s proud smile to the little child, with its bobbing fists and little head that wobbled slightly. His stomach twisted. The claws dug deeper, pulling him back. He managed a nod and stumbled back. “I’d better...”

He pivoted and burst out the back door to the parking area behind the stores, stopping in the middle and bending over, resting his hands on his thighs as he drew deep breaths into his lungs. God help me. After a few moments, he felt the panic ease. He straightened and raked his fingers across his scalp. His gaze drifted upward, landing on a white steeple visible above the row of brick buildings. The sun glinted off the copper finial, sending rays of light outward.

The Lord is my shepherd. He inhaled, reciting the psalm silently as he concentrated on taking slow measured breaths. By the time he got to Thy rod and thy staff, his heart rate was returning to normal, but his gut was still in knots. Lunch was out of the question. Being around people was impossible.

He walked to his car, climbed in and drove the few miles out of Dover to his motel room. Safely inside, he fell on the bed and tried to sort out what to do next. He couldn’t stay at the store. He couldn’t work there every day seeing Nicki and the baby. He’d go mad. All the work he’d put in over the past year would be gone.

There was only one solution. He had to quit. Today. He wanted to call her immediately and tell her, but he couldn’t walk out in the middle of the day. Not after promising her he’d be around to help her redo the store. He’d fight through the rest of the afternoon, but at six tonight he’d tell her he was done. He hated to see the disappointment in her blue eyes, but he had no choice.

He looked at Ron’s card, lying on the bedside table. He could call. Talk it out. But his emotions were too raw. He needed time to process what he was feeling. At the very least, time to calm down.

Service. He had to think of his last few hours as service. Then he could get through it. Doing for others had been how he’d gotten through it the first time. That, along with prayer and talking to Paul.

Feeling in control once more, he picked up his keys and headed back. All he had to do was make it through a couple of hours. So much for Dover being the refuge he’d hoped for.