Driftwood Lane (12 page)

Sixteen

Meridith pedaled the bike down the lane. Her shallow breaths drew in salt-laden sea air. She was glad it was Friday. The kids would be home all weekend, and she could try some of the books’ suggestions for coping with grief. She’d read on the beach all morning, had lunch at the Even Keel Café, but now it was time for the kids to return from school.

Even though Jake’s demeanor had relaxed as the week waned, there was still a stiltedness to their conversation. He was all business now.

And that’s just the way I want it
. Meridith turned onto Driftwood Lane. Leaves were coming in on the trees, hiding the skeletal branches. A carpet of purple crocuses bloomed at the base of a mailbox. In the next yard, a line of daffodils edged the drive. Not yet blooming, their pale buds stretched over tongues of green leaves. Spring was underway, and she was ready. Ready for more time outdoors, ready for sunshine and golf. Ready for school’s end when she could return to her home, to Stephen.

With her three siblings in tow. She envisioned Stephen meeting the crew at the airport.

Hi, honey, here we are, your ready-made family of five
.

She tried to picture his reaction and failed.

Well, of course she couldn’t. She hadn’t told the man yet.

When she reached Summer Place, she turned into the drive, skirting Piper and Jake’s dirty truck, then pulled into the garage beside the Galaxie. According to Mr. Thomas, the old car had been willed to the kids’ uncle, along with T. J.’s tools. She was sure he’d be delighted, if he ever called.

She set the kickstand, entered the house through the front door, and checked the voice mail. No customers, but Max’s teacher asked her to call back.

A scraping sound across the room startled her. Jake emerged from the fireplace grate. Soot covered his hands and streaked his cheek.

“Want to come look?”

Her mind still on the message from the teacher, she approached the fireplace. Jake made room on the hearth.

“See these cracks? Crumbling mortar, loose stone. Feel this.” He reached for a river rock, and she touched it.

He placed his hand over hers and wobbled the rock, but she barely felt the movement for the jolt that went through her at his touch.

She jerked her hand away.

His eyes scanned her face, which grew warmer by the second.

She studied the blackened rocks as if mesmerized by them. “So the, uh, loosened rocks caused it to smoke?” Was that her squeaky voice?

“Right.”

She still felt his touch on her hand, though it was now cradled safely in her lap. She ran her other palm over it and felt the protrusion of her ring.

Stephen. Wonderful, steady Stephen.

She still felt Jake watching her. She was probably glowing like hot coals by now. Confound it.

“So, you can, uh, patch it or something?”

“Or something.”

She wondered if the amusement in his tone was caused by her question or the fact that she’d ripped her hand away as if he’d jabbed her with a poker. She flickered a glance at him, but it stuck and held.

The amusement slid slowly from his face, replaced by something else. Something that made her stomach feel as if it contained a batch of quickly rising dough.

You just had to look
. Heat radiated off his arm, inches away, and flowed over her skin. She could smell the faint scent of pine and musk.

She looked away. Told her heart to stay put. Deep breaths. She sucked in a lungful of his woodsy scent.
Ix-nay on the eath-bray
.

Meridith jumped to her feet and put distance between them.

Jake cleared his throat, then leaned into the grate. “Don’t see any daylight.”

Back to business. “That’s good, right?”

“Not if you want to use this thing. Flue’s blocked. Debris or bird’s nest, could be anything.”

“You can fix it?”

He pulled out of the grate, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sure.”

Meridith hated how unsettled she felt around him. And the faulty fireplace only prolonged his presence. Why did he have to make her feel this way? Why did she have to keep reminding herself this was business?

“Can you draw up a separate bid?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She gave a nod, then returned to the phone to where she’d jotted Mrs. Wilcox’s number and waited for her heart to get a grip. Thank God he couldn’t read her mind.

She dialed Mrs. Wilcox, and the teacher picked up on the second ring.

“Thank you for returning my call, Ms. Ward.” The teacher’s voice was young and soothing. “I know Max has been through a trauma, and I’ve been keeping my eye on him, talking to him, giving him extra attention.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your concern.”

“I thought he was doing okay until today.”

“What happened?” Meridith leaned on the check-in desk, listening intently.

“There’s an event tomorrow night, Shining Star. I’m not sure you’ve heard. It’s a parent-child talent show we’re trying this year. I’m coordinating it.”

“No, I hadn’t heard.”

“Well, I’m afraid I goofed. I printed the list of participants without checking it, and—well, Max is on there. He and his mother had planned a ballroom dance presentation.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” Poor Max. She wondered if he’d been thinking about it all week.

“The list was posted for participants to see the dress rehearsal order today. I heard some kids being cruel to Max at recess. I handled the situation, and the other boys are being appropriately disciplined, but I’m worried about Max.”

Meridith closed her eyes, aching for the boy. “Thank you for letting me know and for handling the situation.”

“Max was noticeably upset through the afternoon, and when I removed the list from the wall, I saw he’d marked out his and Eva’s names. In fact, he scribbled through the names so hard it left a hole in the paper.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I tried to talk to him after school, but there wasn’t much time before he had to catch the bus. I just wanted you to know.”

Meridith thanked her, then hung up. She felt so bad for the little guy. So helpless. All those books she’d read had nothing about this sort of thing. How was she supposed to know what to do?

“Everything okay?” Jake’s voice cut into her thoughts.

The screech of brakes announced the bus’s arrival.

“Fine.” Or would be. Eventually.

When the children scrambled through the door, she caught sight of Max’s mottled face and red eyes. All the books had recommended helping children express their feelings, so maybe she could start there.

After she greeted them, she asked Max to follow her into the dining room while Noelle and Ben disappeared upstairs.

Max plopped into a chair, the weight of his body sagging downward. Someone had written on his pale arm in ink, though she couldn’t read it upside down.

“Max, Mrs. Wilcox called and told me what happened today.”

His eyes flashed at her. “Toby and Travis are stupid morons.” He crossed his arms.

She’d expected sorrow, not anger. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He looked down at the table. “No.”

Okay, now what? The books said children need affection when they’re grieving. Not her strong suit.

She set her hand on his tense arm. “I’m sorry about the talent show.” Did the words sound as awkward as they felt? She was no good at this touchy-feely stuff.

Max blinked rapidly. Maybe she’d said the wrong thing. Maybe she was making it worse. But she was doing what the books recommended.

She tried again. “Were you looking forward to it?”

Max sniffed, then nodded his head. In the next room she could hear the squawk of the flue opening.

“How did you learn to ballroom dance? That’s quite an accomplishment for a boy your age.”

“My mom taught me.” He glanced at her. The anger had faded from his eyes. “I’m pretty good.”

“I’m not surprised.” She liked the way he’d perked up. It was good to see his confidence emerging. Too bad he couldn’t showcase his talent for tomorrow’s audience. She was certain it would be beneficial.

“Is there anything else you could do for the show? What other talents do you have?”

Max shrugged. “Nothing, really.” His feet shuffled under the table. “’Cept being a goalie and building boat models, but I can’t do those for a talent show.”

“Is there some other kind of dance you could do?”

“It’s too late to come up with a new dance. The show’s tomorrow. Besides, it’s for a parent and their child.” His eyes pulled down at the corners, and he ducked his head.

“I wish I could help, but I don’t know how to ballroom dance. I guess it wouldn’t be the same without your mom anyway.”

His head lifted. Hope sparkled in his eyes. “You could learn.”

“Oh, I—I think it would take longer than a day, Max.” Meridith laughed uneasily. “Especially for me.”

His head and shoulders seemed to sink. “I guess you’re right. I only know how to lead, and I don’t know how to teach it.”

“I know how.” Jake appeared in the doorway, filling it with his broad shoulders and tall frame. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“He could teach you!” Max’s eyes widened. He looked back and forth between Jake and Meridith.

“Oh,” Meridith said, “We couldn’t ask—”

“I’m offering,” Jake said. “I can be here bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Max’s dimple hollowed his cheek.

“No, I—you don’t understand, the show’s tomorrow night, and I’m a bad dancer.”

Jake leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms. “You said you wanted to help.”

“Well, I do, but I don’t see how—you know how to ballroom dance?” The notion suddenly struck her as unlikely.

“I can do more than swing a hammer.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“So you’ll do it?” Max bounced on the chair.

She hadn’t seen him this excited since she’d arrived. She looked at Jake. At his wide shoulders, thick arms, sturdy calloused hands. She remembered the look in his eyes just minutes ago and imagined herself trapped in the confines of his embrace for as long as it took her to learn the dance. Which would be about, oh, a few years.

“And why would you do this?” It wasn’t as if he owed her anything. Unless he was punching the time clock on the lessons.

“Let’s just say I was picked on a time or two myself.”

Max rubbed his hands together. “Toby and Travis, eat your heart out!”

“Now, hold on. We already missed dress rehearsals. I don’t know if Mrs. Wilcox will let us slip in last minute.”

“Call her,” Jake said.

He had all the answers, didn’t he? She spared him a scowl as she slid past on her way to the phone.

“Hi, Mrs. Wilcox? This is Meridith Ward again.” She looked over her shoulder.

Max waited, Jake standing behind him, thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets, looking all smug.

“I was wondering. If Max can get a replacement for the dance, could he still participate?”
Please say no
. “I know he’s missing dress rehearsals and—”

“That would be no problem whatsoever.” Mrs. Wilcox sounded delighted. “We’d fit him in and be glad to have him. Have you found him another partner?”

“Uh, looks like we have.”

She thanked Mrs. Wilcox and hung up, then turned to face a hopeful Max.

“What did she say?” he asked.

Meridith swallowed hard. “She said they could work you back into the schedule.” She cast Jake a plea. “But I don’t know if I can do this. I wasn’t kidding, I have no rhythm whatsoever.”

“Look at the kid. You can’t say no to that.”

Max was grinning from ear to ear.

It was Meridith’s shoulders that slunk now. Heaven help her. She winced and forced the words. “All right. I’ll do it.”

Max let out a whoop and threw his arms around her.

Seventeen

“What if potential guests stop in?” Meridith asked.

Max and Jake moved the sofa against the wall. The living room was quickly becoming a dance studio.

Jake straightened to his full height. “That happen often?”

“Almost never this time of year.” Ben unplugged the lamp and moved it aside.

If Meridith had been anxious the night before, it was nothing compared to her response upon seeing Jake at her door. His hair was damp, like he’d just stepped from the shower, and he spun a roll of blue painter’s tape around his index finger. He wore a black polo, fitted jeans, and a furtive grin. How had she gotten herself into this?

“Noelle, grab the stuff on that table,” Jake said.

Surprisingly, the girl complied. Maybe she was glad her little brother was getting his chance onstage.

After moving the coffee table, Jake rolled up the rug, Ben assisting from the other side. Only one week with a cast and he was one-handing things like he’d done it all his life.

“Be careful, Ben,” Meridith said.

She watched them prepping the room with a sense of impending doom. The thought of dancing for an audience in ten hours was almost as distressing as the thought of being in Jake’s arms all morning. Maybe ballroom dancing would be easier than she thought. It was just a few steps, and Max had learned it, right? How hard could it be?

“You know, I don’t have any music,” she said. They couldn’t dance without music, right?

Jake whipped an iPod from his jeans pocket. “I’m sure one of you kids has a dock.”

“I do!” Noelle bolted off, taking the stairs two at a time.

Wasn’t she the eager beaver.

Jake knelt on the floor, pulled a strip of blue tape, and tore it with his teeth.

“What are you doing?” Meridith asked.

“Taping off a square.”

“Won’t it mar the wood?”

“It’ll come right off.” He tossed her a look that let her know he saw through her excuses. “Are you done?”

She pressed her lips together, hating the heat that crept into her neck. She rubbed it with her sweaty palm as if she could massage it away.

By the time he finished the box, Noelle had reappeared with her iPod dock, and Jake set it up on the hearth.

“Okay, we’re set,” Jake said.

Noelle perched on the displaced sofa, leaning forward, a smirk curving her lips. “This should be good.”

Now Meridith understood why the girl had been so eager.