Sunrise Point (22 page)

* * *

There might’ve been one or two down moments in their date, Tom thought. Especially at the onset in the quiet, nervous drive to Arcata, at the confession about owing someone money on the house she occupied, about how tough times had led her to the greater dreams of a solid, secure, stable life. But once the salads were done and the main course arrived, she was a chatterbox. She wanted to tell him everything about her experience in his grandmother’s kitchen, how the girls became more animated by the minute, all that she learned from Maxie about baking, from Maxie and her girlfriends about life.

“And this apple festival thing you’ve got going on,” she said.

“Maxie’s idea,” he admitted. “She convinced Grandpa to start it when my dad was a kid. Back then they drew up posters and printed flyers, took them around to businesses on the coast, nailed a few to telephone and light poles…”

“I was not even mildly prepared for what was going to happen, then when the people swarmed in, I was overwhelmed! It’s more than buying apples to them, Tom—they want to be a part of what you and Maxie do. Almost every room in the house was full of people visiting, catching up with neighbors, eating, juggling each other’s babies. Did I tell you I helped make about three hundred sachets with Maxie and her girls? She had dried apples, cinnamon sticks and cloves and we tied them into little bundles. And I can now bake cinnamon rolls.”

“You’ve come a long way since terrible coffee,” he said.

“I lied about how my father liked it,” she admitted, laughing.

“I know that now. Good fake, though.”

Although she was stuffed and he really didn’t need to eat another bite, he insisted on ordering coffee and dessert. He loved the way she relished every new taste, every luxurious bite of something that for her was indulgent. One dessert of cheesecake, two forks.

“You know what I hope? I hope you always have that sense of wonder for simple things.”

She just laughed at him. “Oh, I’m sure we’re safe there. I’m kind of hoping to have some wonder over extraordinary things someday.”

He dipped his fork into the cheesecake and held it toward her mouth. She shook her head and said, “Oh, I can’t…” But he persisted until she let her lips close over the fork. Her eyes closed again, that luxury of excellence on her tongue, and he almost got aroused. His heart pumped and so many emotions swept through him—possession, adoration, titillation, excitement. Feeding her seemed to do something for him. He tried to reason with his feelings—it was a silly bite of cheesecake! But he couldn’t wait to share that fork, to put his lips where hers had been.

He’d never felt like this before.

Soon they were walking across the square to his truck and he grabbed her hand, holding it. It was almost as though she hadn’t noticed—she was doing a recap of the meal, the ambiance of the restaurant, the added delight of a dessert she absolutely did not need. He listened with a smile; he found listening to her comforting. She had no idea how cute she was. And as they walked, he leaned down enough so that he could catch a whiff of her hair—sweet, flowery, clean.

There weren’t too many people on the square and sidewalks, but they were hardly deserted. Still, when they got to the truck, he pulled on her hand until she faced him. She looked up at him. He put one large hand on her hip and with the other, he traced her jawline with a knuckle until it was under her chin. Then he lifted her chin, lowered his head and placed a very cautious kiss on those full lips.

Yeah, he liked that.

He tried that again, and again.

She put a hand against his chest and said, “Look, I don’t want to upset Darla…”

“This has nothing to do with Darla. This is just you and me…”

“Okay, let me put this another way. I don’t want to get in Darla’s territory.”

“I am not her territory. We’re friends. Her husband…my squad…that whole thing. I’m just being supportive… .” And he leaned toward her mouth again.

“Wait! You know all the things I’ve gone through the past few years—I don’t want to just get deeper in trouble.”

“Huh? What?”

“I don’t want to get mixed up in a situation that would hurt me…like, you know, before.”

His eyes became slits. “You can’t really be suggesting that I could ever do to you and your children what
he
did to you. You know I’m not that kind of person.”

“You’re not,” she whispered. “I know.”

“It’s a kiss,” he said. “With any luck, a good kiss. I want it. You want it.”

She nodded weakly. After all, she’d made that deal with God… .

“Then can you shut up and kiss me?”

Her lips were already parted, just in case she had something more to say. To her own great relief, she didn’t. He came down on her mouth gently but it took only a second for it to become serious. Demanding and powerful and by the way she received it, it was very much to her liking. She’d been holding her breath and let it out slowly just as her arms slid up and around his neck. He tilted, moved, tongued open her lips, played around with her tongue. Then he lifted her a little bit, bringing her mouth up even with his and, incidentally, pinning her against his truck.

He should really care if people were walking by but he didn’t. All he could think about was her small body flush against his, the taste of her mouth and the fact that after all that hedging, all those excuses, she met him with passion. He heard her whimper slightly and he took it as a little victory—she wanted him, too.

“Oh, man,” he whispered.

He went back for more, covering her mouth with almost dangerous intentions. If he didn’t get a handle on this, he’d be a little out of control and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that feeling with a woman. Knowing this was where it was going to end, he forced himself to let go of her, to let her slide back onto her feet, to find some stupid thing to say to excuse it all. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he came up with.

“It wasn’t bad at all.”

“Thank you. I mean for the kiss, not for the compliment. If you can call not bad a compliment.”

“I hope you’ll be careful with my feelings,” she said, surprising him. “It wouldn’t be good for either one of us if I fell for you.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning down and smiling against her lips.

“Pretty sure. Should we get going and relieve Maxie of her babysitting?”

“If you wanted me to, I could take you somewhere private. For more kissing,” he suggested.

“Tom, I should go get my kids and get them settled in bed, because I have a long night ahead. I’m going to spend half of it thinking about what a wonderful evening I had and that fantastic kissing and the other half hoping I haven’t made a big mistake.”

He smiled at her and kissed her nose. “I hope you get some sleep, Nora. Because I’m taking you to the pumpkin patch tomorrow.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “And come Monday morning, I’ll be waiting for the glass slipper to show up at my door.”

Tom could tell that his grandmother wanted every detail of his date with Nora. She was practically vibrating with her need to know. But Tom wasn’t talking. Nora assured her that they’d had fun and the most delicious food imaginable. “Of course not better than anything that comes out of your kitchen, Maxie, but I have to admit, it was a wonderful treat. So—are we all meeting at the pumpkin patch?”

“I’m picking you up, Nora,” Tom said.

“Oh. So, Maxie, are you riding with us?”

“Thank you, darling, but no—I’m going on my own steam. I may not be ready to leave when you are or I might want to leave earlier. I like having my own wheels.”

“I understand,” she said with a laugh.

“I’ll help buckle in the girls,” Tom said. “I’m going to carry Berry. You get the baby. And I’m going to follow you home to carry them inside.”

“Don’t be silly,” Nora argued. “I can manage. It’s too much trouble for you.”

“It’s a couple of miles,” he said.

“Three-point-four,” she informed him. “I know. I’ve walked it.”

“That’s why I intend to drive it,” he said, tapping her cute little nose.

It was always an ordeal, transporting children, especially sleeping children. It required a committee. There were not only the kids, but a port-a-crib to collapse and stow in the trunk, supplies to gather, seat belts to fasten. It wasn’t until Tom pulled up behind her that he realized he’d never been inside her house before.

He was pleasantly surprised—it was spotless and the furniture was perfectly nice. Holding Berry against his broad chest, her head on his shoulder, he whispered, “This is very nice.”

“New,” she said. “Compliments of Jed.”

“He should get upgraded to Dad pretty soon—furniture, supplies and the offer of a college education.”

She chuckled and said, “Bring Berry to my room and put her on the bed. Carefully.”

Tom stepped into the only bedroom and was a little startled to find only a mattress on the floor and a very old and weathered chest of drawers. But the bed was perfectly and meticulously made up and there was a soft, thick area rug under it.

“You need a bed frame,” he told her in a whisper.

“It’s not a priority right now,” she said. “Besides, until Jed brought the port-a-crib, we all slept together and it was safer for the kids, mattress on the floor—if one of them rolled off, they didn’t get hurt. Just lie her down, Tom, and take Fay for me so I can go get the crib.”

“I’ll get it,” he said, gently lowering Berry to the bed.

After everything was accomplished, children settled, she was walking him the ten steps to the door. He turned toward her. “This is nice, Nora. A good little house.”

“Thank you. With the help of Jed and neighbors, it’s been possible to do a lot with a little. Thank you, Tom. It was such a nice night. I’ll probably never forget it.”

He leaned down to her and gave her a brief kiss on the mouth, just a peck. He wanted much more from her, but just couldn’t tempt himself further. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon—will that work?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll bring a couple of lawn chairs and a blanket for the yard at Jilly’s. You’re in charge of kids’ stuff, and round up some things for Fay to play with on the blanket.” And then he went home to face Maxie, who had her game face on, sitting in front of the TV, not asking questions. Now, two things about this were suspicious. One—she wanted the details but didn’t want to ask and give herself away. And two—by this time in the evening she was always nodding off in the chair. Tom would usually jostle her and tell her he was going to bed.

“I have nothing to say about the date,” he informed her.

“I didn’t ask,” she told him.

“Then we understand each other. I’ll be up early, giving the orchard some time before going to Jilly’s farm.”

“And I’ll be up early because I can’t help it,” Maxie said.

And he went to bed. Where he didn’t sleep much.

* * *

Jack and Preacher shut down the bar. A sign was posted on the door—
Town Party at Jilly’s Pumpkin Patch. Strangers welcome. Food and drink available. Fun optional.
And there were directions.

They got to the farm a little early so they could set up their grills. Jilly’s sister Kelly, the chef, was in charge of the food, but Jack and Preacher were in charge of grilling. For events like this they provided big tubs of ice-cooled drinks, burgers, dogs, buns and paper products. They brought burgers and hot dogs from the bar’s kitchen, but they were happy to cook up any meat brought by picnickers. They usually put out a jar for donations rather than going through the madness of ringing up for the food and beverage, and they always made out better that way.

Kelly was going to provide the rest of the food—she’d have a regular pumpkin buffet of bisque, pumpkin cheesecake, roasted pumpkin seeds, muffins and pumpkin bread. In addition she was putting out a huge potato salad plus deviled eggs, green salad, a vegetable tray with her own special dill dip and lots of chips. People in town showed up with a variety of things—some would bring a covered dish and still others would burden the food table with their own baked goods and bowls of Halloween candy. They’d stay all day and share whatever they felt like sharing. And even though many of them had gardens, they’d probably all take home a pumpkin. Some would come in costume.

Before the crowds arrived, Hank Cooper came around the corner of the big Victorian house. Alone.

“Hey,” Jack said. “You bring any Riordans?”

“They’ll be coming. I thought maybe I could have a second. I could help you set up, if you want my help.”

“We’re ahead of it here,” Jack said. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s this. Sometimes I do unpopular things. I’m not saying that incident back at Ft. Benning—that was entirely a twenty-two-year-old mishap of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time with a wrong woman and not my fault. But I’ve had strong opinions about things here and there—like quitting oil companies I worked for because I disagreed with their practices, that kind of thing. You might not understand that—but then, maybe you’ve never seen what happens in a spill.”

Preacher started scraping the char off the grill with a spatula. “In my opinion, it is not wrong to avail yourself of what the earth provides, but it is wrong to abuse and exploit and endanger it.”

“Yeah,” Coop said.

Jack slanted a narrow-eyed look at Preacher, who always surprised him. “
Avail
yourself?”

“You know—help yourself…”

“I know what it means,” Jack said.

“So, the deal is,” Coop went on, “sometimes I get a reputation. Not always a fair one, but still. So what I do, just to make sure I can always bail myself out if I have to or get work again if I need to—I keep some records. Documentation.”

“Very smart. I keep records, too,” Preacher said, scraping.

“Get yourself in a lot of tight spots, do you?”

“I prefer to think of myself as a man of principle. So, I made a few copies of things from way back. There’s an envelope in my truck that I’d like to transfer to your truck. It might make for interesting late-night reading. It’s a record of my arrest, the results of a brief investigation, my release and honorable discharge. I did very good work for the Army, but to say the Army wasn’t sorry to see me go would be an understatement.” He gave a shrug. “It’s been said I have trouble with authority.”

Jack frowned slightly. “Why didn’t you explain that sooner? That you have the proof?”

“For starters, I didn’t know your name. I never forget a face, however. You don’t look that much different than you did fifteen years ago.” Jack stood a little taller. “Except for the gray,” Coop said, brushing his fingers through his own brown hair, right at the temples.

“And you were doing so well…” Jack said. Then he added, “For starters?”

“I kept records, but it rubs me the wrong way to have to prove myself. To anyone. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

“That pride get in your way much?” Jack asked.

“Sometimes that’s all a man’s got.”

“Well, I’d be happy to take that envelope off your hands. And can I just say, that’s a good thing you did. For Luke and for me—you might be passing through, but we’re staying here. We don’t need bad blood between us, me and Luke.”

“That’s the thing—this place is growing on me. I might sit out some time here. And we might never be friends, you and I.”

Jack gave a shrug. “Just so we’re not enemies.”

“Yeah,” Coop said, running a hand around the back of his neck. “But just so you know, you pretty much irritate the shit outta me.”

“Is that a fact?”

“You’re such a goddamn know-it-all…”

Both men looked suddenly at Preacher to find him grinning like a kid. “You’ll find that kind of comes and goes… .” He gave a chuckle. “You’ll like him better after you take some money off him at poker. He hardly ever wins.”

“Funny,” Jack said. Then to Coop he said, “Come on, let’s go get that envelope before the crowds descend.”

After tossing the envelope in his truck, Jack turned to Coop and stuck out a hand. “You irritate me, too. We might as well shake on it.”

Cooper took the hand. And he laughed.