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And he thought he’d been so careful at hiding his reaction. He shifted his weight, not sure how to answer. Any apology would only lead to explanations he was eager to avoid at all costs.
“You took me by surprise, that’s all,” he finally said.
“A mysterious stranger emerging from your distant past?”
“Something like that. Sixteen seems like a long, long time ago.”
She nodded solemnly but said nothing. After an awkward moment, he headed for the door again.
“Anyway, I’m sorry if I seemed less than welcoming.” It needed to be said, he decided. Apparently, she was going to be his neighbor and he disliked the idea of this uneasiness around her continuing. That didn’t make the words any easier to get out. “You caught me at a bad moment, that’s all. But I’m sorry if I gave you the impression I didn’t want you here. It was nothing personal.”
“I must say, that’s a relief to hear.”
She smiled, warm and sincere, and for just an instant he was blinded by it, remembering the surge of his blood every time he had been anywhere close to her that last summer.
Before he could make his brain work again, Sage walked up carrying one bulky box.
“What do you have in these, for Pete’s sake? Did you pack along every brick from your old place?”
Julia laughed, a light, happy sound that stirred the hair on the back of his neck.
“Not bricks, but close, I’m afraid. Books. I left a lot in storage back in Boise but I couldn’t bear to leave them all behind.”
So that hadn’t changed about her. When she was a kid, she always seemed to have her nose in a book. He and her brother used to tease her unmercifully about being a bookworm.
That last summer, he had been relentless in his efforts to drag her attention away from whatever book she was reading so she would finally notice him….
He dragged his mind away from the past and the dumb, self-absorbed jerk he’d been. He didn’t want to remember those times. What was the damn point? That stupid, eager, infatuated kid was gone, buried under the weight of the years and pain that had piled up since then.
Instead, he left Sage and Julia to talk about books and headed back down the sweeping Brambleberry House stairs. On the way, he passed Anna heading back up, carrying a suitcase in each hand. He tried to take them from her but she shook him off.
“I’ve got these. There are some bulkier things in the U-Haul you could bring up, though.”
“Sure,” he answered.
In the entryway on the ground floor, he heard music coming from inside Anna’s apartment. Through the open doorway, he caught a glimpse of her television set where a Disney DVD was just starting up.
Julia’s twins must have finished playing and come inside. He spotted Julia’s boy on the floor in front of the TV, his arm slung across Conan’s back. Both of them sensed Will’s presence and looked up. He started to greet them but the boy put a finger to his mouth and pointed to Abigail’s favorite armchair.
Will followed his gaze and found the girl—Maddie—curled up there, fast asleep.
She looked small and fragile, with her too-pale skin and thin wrists. There was something going on with her, but he was pretty sure he was better off not knowing.
He waved to the boy, then headed down the porch steps to the waiting U-Haul.
It was nearly empty now except for perhaps a half- dozen more boxes, a finely crafted Mission-style rocking chair and something way in the back, a bulky- looking item wrapped in an old blanket that had been secured with twine.
He went for the rocking chair first. Might as well get the tough stuff out of the way. It was harder to carry than he expected—wide and solid, made of solid oak—but more awkward than really heavy.
He made it without any trouble up the porch steps and was trying to squeeze it through the narrow front door without bunging up the doorframe moldings when Sage came down the stairs.
“Okay, Superman. Let me help you with that.”
“I can handle it.”
“Only because of your freakish strength, maybe.”
He felt his mouth quirk. Sage always managed to remind him he still had the ability to smile.
“I had my can of spinach just an hour ago so I think I’ve got this covered. There are a few more boxes in the U-Haul. Those ought to keep you busy and out of trouble.”
She stuck her tongue out at him and he smiled at the childish gesture, with a sudden, profound gratitude for the friendship of those few people around him who had sustained him through the wrenching pain of the last two years.
“Which is it? Are you Popeye or Superman?”
“Take your pick.”
“Or just a stubborn male, like the rest of your gender?” She lifted the front end of the chair. “Even Popeye and Superman need help once in awhile. Besides, we wouldn’t want you to throw your back out. Then how would all our work get done around here?”
He knew when he was defeated. With a sigh, he picked up the other end. They had another minor tussle about who should walk backward up the stairs but he won that one simply by turning around and starting up.
She didn’t let him gloat for long. “I understand you know our new tenant.”
His gaze flashed to hers. Uh-oh. Here comes the inquisition, he thought. “Knew. Past tense. A long time ago.”
The words were becoming like a mantra since she showed up again in Cannon Beach. A long time ago. But not nearly long enough. Like a riptide, the memories just seemed to keep grabbing him out of nowhere and sucking him under.
“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Sage pressed as they hit the halfway mark on the stairs. “And those kids of hers are adorable. I can’t wait until Eben and Chloe finish up their trip to Europe in a few weeks. Chloe’s going to be over the moon at having two new friends.”
“How are the wedding plans?” he asked at her mention of her fiancé and his eight-year-old daughter. The question was aimed more at diverting her attention than out of much genuine interest to hear about her upcoming nuptials, but it seemed to work.
Sage made a face. “You know I’m not good at that kind of thing. If I had my way, I would happy with something simple on the beach, just Eben and me and Chloe and the preacher.”
“I guess when you marry a gazillionaire hotel magnate, sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”
“It’s still going to be small, just a few friends at the ceremony than a reception later at the Sea Urchin. I’m leaving all the details to Jade and Stanley Wu.”
“Smart woman.”
She went on about wedding plans and he listened with half an ear.
In a million years, he never would have expected a hippie-chick like Sage to fall for a California businessman like Eben Spencer but somehow they seemed to fit together.
Sage was more at peace than he’d ever known her, settled in a way he couldn’t explain.
She was one of his closest friends and had been since she moved to town five years ago and found herself immediately drawn into Abigail’s orbit. He loved her as a little sister and he knew she deserved whatever joy she could find.
He wanted to be happy for her—and most of the time he was—but every once in awhile, seeing the love and happiness that seemed to surround her and Eben when they were together was like a slow, relentless trickle of acid on an open wound.
Despite knowing Julia was inside, he was relieved as hell when they reached the top of the stairs and turned into the apartment.
“Oh, my Stickley! We bought that when I was pregnant with the twins. I know the apartment is furnished but I couldn’t bear to leave it behind. Thank you so much for carrying that heavy thing all that way! That goes right here by the window so I can sit in it at night and watch the moonlight shining on the ocean.”
He set it down, his mind on the rocking chair he had made Robin when she was pregnant with Cara. It was still sitting in the nursery along with the toddler bed he had made, gathering dust.
He really ought to do something with the furniture. Sage would probably know somebody who could use it….
Not today, he thought abruptly. He wasn’t ready for that yet.
He turned on his heel and headed back down the stairs to retrieve that mysterious blanket-wrapped item. When he reached the U-Haul, he stood for a moment studying it, trying to figure out what it might be—and how best to carry it up the Brambleberry House stairs—when the enticing scent of cherry blossoms swirled around him.
“It’s a dollhouse.” Julia spoke beside him in a low voice and he automatically squared his shoulders, though what he was bracing for, he wasn’t quite sure.
“My father made it for me years ago. My…late husband tried to fix it up a little for Maddie but I’m afraid it’s still falling apart. I really hope it survived the trip.”
So she was a widow. They had that in common, then. He cleared his throat. “Should we take the blanket off?”
She shrugged, which he took for assent. He unwrapped the cord and heard a crunching kind of thud inside. Uh-oh. Not a good sign. With a careful look at her and a growing sense of trepidation, he pulled the blanket away and winced as Julia gasped.
Despite her obvious efforts to protect the dollhouse, the piece hadn’t traveled well. The construction looked flimsy to begin with and the roof had collapsed.
One entire support wall had come loose as well and the whole thing looked like it was ready to implode.
“I’m sorry,” he said, though the words seemed grossly inadequate.
“It’s not your fault. I was afraid it wouldn’t survive the trip. Oh, this is going to break Maddie’s heart. She loved that little house.”
“So did you,” he guessed.
She nodded. “For a lot of reasons.” She tilted her head, studying the wreckage. “You’re the carpentry expert. I don’t suppose there’s any way I can fix this, is there?”
He gazed down at her, at the fading rays of the sun that caught gold strands in her hair, at the sorrow marring those lovely features for a lost treasure.
He gave an inward groan. Dammit, he didn’t want to do this. But he was such a sucker for a woman in distress. How could he just walk away?
He cleared his throat. “If you want, I could take a look at it. See what I can do.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you.”
“You didn’t ask,” he said gruffly.
She sent him a swift look. “No. I didn’t.”
“I’m kind of slammed with projects right now. It might take me awhile to get to it. And even then, I can’t make any guarantees. That’s some major damage there. You might be better just starting over.”
She forced a smile, though he could see the sadness lingering in her eyes. Her father had made it for her, she had said. He didn’t remember much about her father from their summers in Cannon Beach, mostly that the man always seemed impatient and abrupt.
“I can’t make any promises,” he repeated. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful. Thank you so much, Will.”
Together, they gathered up the shattered pieces of the dollhouse and carried them to his truck, where he set them carefully in the back between his toolbox and ladder.
“I’m happy to pay you for your time and trouble.”
As if he would ever accept her money. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s see if I can fix it first.”
She nodded and looked as if she wanted to say something more. To his vast relief, after a moment, she closed her mouth, then returned to the U-Haul for the last few boxes.
Chapter Four
Between the two of them, they were able to carry all but a few of the remaining boxes from the U-Haul up the stairs, where they found Sage and Julia pulling books out of boxes and placing them on shelves.
“You’re all so wonderful to help me,” Julia said, gratitude coursing through her as she smiled at all three of them. “I have to tell you, I never expected such a warm welcome. I thought it would be weeks before I would even know a soul in Cannon Beach besides Abigail. I haven’t even started teaching yet but I feel as if I have instant friends.”
Sage smiled. “We’re thrilled to have you and the twins here. And I think Abigail would be, too. Don’t you think, Will?”
He set down the boxes. “Sure. She always loved kids.”
“She was nothing but a big kid herself. Remember how she used to sit out on the porch swing for hours with Cara, swinging and telling stories and singing.”
“I remember,” he said, his voice rough.
Color flooded Sage’s features suddenly. “Oh, Will. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t, Sage. It’s okay. I’d better get the last load of boxes.”
He turned and headed down the stairs, leaving behind only the echo of his workboots hitting the wooden steps. Julia turned her confused gaze to Anna and Sage and found them both watching after Will with identical expressions of sadness in their eyes.
“I missed something, obviously,” she said softly.
Sage gave Anna a helpless look and the other woman shrugged.
“She’ll find out sooner or later,” Anna said. “She might as well hear it from us.”
“You’re right,” Sage said. “It just still hurts so much to talk about the whole thing.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Julia said quickly. “I’m sorry if I’ve wandered into things that are none of my business.”
Sage glanced down the stairs as if checking to see if Will was returning. When she was certain he was still outside, she turned back, her voice pitched low. “Will had a daughter. She would have been a couple years younger than your twins. Cara. That’s who I was talking about. Abigail adored her. We all did. She was the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen, just full of energy, with big blue eyes, brown curls and dimples. She was full of sugar, our Cara.”
Had a daughter. Not has. An ache blossomed in her chest and she knew she didn’t want to hear any more.
But she had learned many lessons over the last few years—one of the earliest was that information was empowering, even if the gaining of it was a process often drenched in pain.
“What happened?” she forced herself to ask.
Sage shook her head, her face inexpressibly sad. Anna squeezed her arm and picked up the rest of the story.
“Cara was killed along with Will’s wife, Robin, two years ago.” Though Anna spoke in her usual no- nonsense tone, Julia could hear the pain threading through her words.
“They were crossing the street downtown in the middle of the afternoon when they were hit by a drunk tourist in a motorhome,” she went on. “Robin died instantly but Cara hung on for two weeks. We all thought—hoped—she was going to pull through but she caught an infection in the hospital in Portland and her little body was too weak and battered to fight it.”
She wanted to cry, just sit right there in the middle of the floor and weep for him. More than that, she wanted to race down the stairs and hug her own precious darlings to her.
“Oh, poor Will. He must have been shattered.”
“We all were,” Sage said. “It was like a light went out of all of us. Will used to be so lighthearted. Like a big tease of an older brother. It’s been more than two years since Robin and Cara died and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him genuinely smile at something since then.”
The ache inside her stretched and tugged and her eyes burned with tears for the teenage boy with the mischievous eyes.
Sage touched her arm. “I’m so glad you’re here now.”
“Me? Why?”
“Well, you’ve lost someone, too. You understand, in a way the rest of us can’t. I’m sure it would help Will to talk to someone who’s experienced some of those same emotions.”
Julia barely contained her wince, feeling like the world’s biggest fraud.
“Grief is such a solitary, individual thing,” she said after an awkward moment. “No one walks the same journey.”
Sage smiled and pressed a cheek to Julia’s. “I know. But I’m still glad you’re here, and I’m sure Will is, too.”
Julia was saved from having to come up with an answer to that when she again heard his footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, he came in, muscles bulging beneath the cotton of his shirt as he carried in a trio of boxes.
He had erased any trace of emotion from his features, any sign at all that he contained any emotions at all. Finding out about his wife and daughter explained so much about him. The hardness, the cynicism. The pain in his eyes when he looked at Maddie.
She had a wild urge to take the boxes from him, slip her arms around his waist and hold him until everything was all right again.
“This is the last of it. Where do these go?”
Her words tangled in her throat and she had to clear her throat before she could speak. “The top one belongs in my bedroom. The others are Simon’s.”
With an abrupt nod, he headed first to her room and then to the one down the hall where Simon slept.
He returned to the living room just as the doorbell downstairs rang through the house.
“Hey, Mom!” Simon yelled up the stairs an instant later. “The pizza guy’s here!”
Conan started barking in accompaniment and Julia rolled her eyes at the sudden cacophony of sound. “Are you sure about this? The house was so quiet before we showed up. If you want that quiet again, you’d better speak now while I’ve still got the U-Haul.”
Sage shook her head with a laugh. “No way. I’m not lugging those books back down the stairs. You’re stuck here for awhile.”
Right now, she couldn’t think of anywhere she would rather be. Julia flashed a quick smile to the other two women and Will, grabbed her purse, and headed down the stairs to pay for the pizza.
Simon stood at the door holding on to Conan’s collar as the dog wriggled with excitement, his tail wagging a mile a minute.
Her son giggled. “I think he really likes pizza, Mom.”
“I guess. Maybe you had better take him into Anna’s apartment so he doesn’t attack the pizza driver.”
With effort, he wrangled the dog through the door and closed the door behind him. Finally, Julia opened the door and found a skinny young man with his cap on backward and his arms full of pizza boxes.
She quickly paid him for the pizza—adding in a hefty tip. She closed the door behind him and backed into the entry, her arms full, and nearly collided with a solid male.
Strong arms came around her to keep her upright.
“Oh,” she exclaimed to Will. “I didn’t hear you come down the stairs.”
“You were talking to the driver,” he answered. He quickly released her—much to her regret. She knew she shouldn’t have enjoyed that brief moment of contact, but it had been so very long…
She couldn’t help noticing the boy she had known now had hard strength in his very grown-up muscles.
“I thought you said the trailer was empty,” she said with some confusion as he headed for the door.
“It is. You’re done here so I’m heading home.”
“You can’t leave!” she exclaimed.
He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t?”
She held out the boxes in her arms. “You’ve got to stay for pizza. I ordered way too much for three women and two children.”
“Don’t forget Conan,” he pointed out. “He’s crazy about pizza, even though all that cheese is lousy for him.”
“Knowing my kids, I’m sure he’ll be able to sneak far more than is good for him.”
The scent of him reached her, spicy and male and far more enticing than any pizza smells. “I still have too much. Please stay.”
He gazed at the door with a look almost of desperation in his eyes. But when he turned back, she thought he might be weakening.
“Please, Will,” she pressed.
He opened his mouth to answer but before he could, the door to Abigail’s apartment opened and Maddie peeked her head out, looking tousled and sleepy.
“Can we come out now?” she asked.
“As long as the dog’s not going to knock me down to get to the Canadian bacon.”
At Maddie’s giggle, Julia saw a spasm of pain flicker across Will’s features and knew the battle was lost.
“I really can’t stay.” He reached for the doorknob. “Thanks anyway for the invitation, but I’ve got a lot of work to do at home.”
She couldn’t push him more, not with that shadow of pain clouding his blue eyes. Surrendering to the inevitable, she simply nodded. “You still need to eat. Take some home with you.”
She could see the objections forming on his expression and decided not to take no for an answer. Will Garrett didn’t know stubborn until he came up against her.
“What’s your pleasure? Pepperoni or Hawaiian? I’d offer you the vegetarian but I think Sage has dibs on that one.”
“It’s not necessary, really.”
“It is to me,” she said firmly. “You just spent forty- five minutes helping me haul boxes up. You have to let me repay you somehow. Here, I hope you still like pepperoni and olive.”
His eyes widened that she would remember such a detail. She couldn’t have explained why—it was just one of those arcane details that stuck in her head. Several times that last summer, they’d gone to Mountain Mike’s Pizza in town with her brother and Will always had picked the same thing.
“Maddie, can you hold this for a second?”
She gave the box marked pepperoni to her daughter, then with one hand she opened it and pulled out half the pizza, which she stuck on top of the Hawaiian.
He looked as if he wanted to object, but he said nothing when she handed him the box with the remaining half a pizza in it.
“Here you go. You should have enough for dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning as well. Consider it a tiny way to say thank you for all your hard work.”
He shook his head but to her vast relief, he didn’t hand the pizza back to her.
“Mom, I can’t hold him anymore!” Simon said from behind the door. “He’s starving and so am I!”
“You’d better get everyone upstairs for pizza,” Will said.
“Right. Good night, then.”
She wanted to say more—much more—but with a rambunctious dog and two hungry children clamoring for her attention, she had to be content with that.
Blasted stubborn woman.
Will sat on his deck watching the lights of Cannon Beach flicker on the water as he ate his third piece of pizza.
He had to admit, even lukewarm, it tasted delicious—probably a fair sight better than the peanut butter sandwich he would have scrounged for his meal.
He didn’t order pizza very often since half of it usually went to waste before he could get to the leftovers so this was a nice change from TV dinners and fast-food hamburgers.
He really needed to shoot for a healthier diet. Sage was always after him to get more vegetables and fewer preservatives into his diet. He tried but he’d never been a big one for cooking in the first place. He could grill steaks and burgers and the occasional chicken breast but he usually fell short at coming up with something to go alongside the entree.
He fell short in a lot of areas. He sighed, listening to the low rumble of the sea. He spent a lot of his free time puttering around in his dad’s shop or sitting out here watching the waves, no matter what the weather. He just hated the emptiness inside the house.
He ought to move, he thought, as he did just about every night at this same time when the silence settled over him with like a scratchy, smothering wool blanket.
He ought to just pick up and make a new start somewhere. Especially now that Julia Hudson Blair had climbed out of the depths of his memories and taken up residence just a few hundred yards away.
She knew.
Sometime during the course of the evening, Sage or Anna must have told her about the accident. He wasn’t quite sure how he was so certain, but he had seen a deep compassion in the green of her eyes, a sorrow that hadn’t been there earlier.
He washed the pizza down with a swallow of Sam Adams—the one bottle he allowed himself each night.
He knew it shouldn’t bother him so much that she knew. Wasn’t like it was some big secret. She would find out sooner or later, he supposed.