Key West (64 page)

Leigh had never considered taking the ring off.

Once more she felt his unwavering attention on her.  That was it, he watched her as if she was the only other person in the world and he had to commit her to memory.

And that, she thought, was a ridiculous conclusion on her part.  He paid attention when he talked to someone was all.  That was polite and probably too rare.

Niles pushed his sleeves higher on the heavily muscled, weather-darkened forearms of a physical man.  “Is it all right if I carry on unloading now?”

“Of course,” Leigh said.  “Thank you.  But tell me how much I owe you for the gutters and the firewood.”  Whether she’d asked for them or not, both things were needed.

“Nothing,” he said airily, sweeping wide an arm.  “House warming present.  Re-warming.  This tree had to come down and I’ve already got enough wood for half a dozen winters.  Anyway, neighbors look out for neighbors.”

Refusing the kindness would sound churlish but it made her feel very uncomfortable to accept.  “Um,” was all she could think of to say.  Leigh felt iron determination under Niles’ calm manner, determination and control drawn as tight as a loaded crossbow.  It didn’t make her comfortable.

He laughed and it suited him–and made her smile.  “I reckon I scared you.  That was dumb.  I should have thought of that possibility and come to the door to introduce myself,” he said.  “Sorry about that.  But let me get back to unloading.    Then I’ll stack it.”

“Oh, no.”  She shook her head.  “No such thing.  Leave it on the ground and I’ll do it.  I’m tougher than I look and I need the exercise.”

“Stacking wood is a man’s job,” he said, showing no sign of realizing his own reminder that she was alone now.  “You’ll have plenty to do giving the house a good clean.”

She dithered but said, “Well, thank you, then.”  At another time she would have told him a woman could stack wood perfectly well.  Today she didn’t mind having a man do something for her.

She only glanced over her shoulder once on her way back and he was already making the first layer of wood in the lean-to.  Gabriel would never send anyone untrustworthy and  Leigh decided she liked having Niles there, doing ordinary things and making the place feel less empty.

Chapter 2

Blue striped mugs and matching plates lined shelves built into a kitchen alcove no more than two feet wide.  A heap of clean silver-plate flatware worn dull by use remained atop the small chest fitted below the shelves.  And white pottery canisters, complete with yellow duck knobs, stood in a cluster on a scrubbed wood counter beside the speckled green enamel sink.  One side of the sink was chipped all the way down to dark metal.  Everything was exactly the way it had been when Leigh Kelly last left the kitchen–with Chris at her side.

More than eighteen months ago.

Everything was the same?  No, everything had changed.  Leigh was alone now, had been for what felt an eternity.  She and Chris would never again run into this house, breathless after chasing one another around outside, and race for the kitchen to make hot chocolate or pour a glass of cold wine.

But she would start over.  She would learn to remember Chris without wanting to cry.

She took the carnival glass vase from the center of the round table and filled its pencil wide well with water.  With the New Year firmly settled in, the deep cold of winter turned the ground to stone.  The only thing in bloom outside was a hardy Fuschia bush, but she had picked a short branch with a few vivid red flowers that would do just fine.  Whenever she and Chris came here, the first thing she had done was to put a flower in the vase, sometimes a purple Cosmos, or a Snapdragon in summer, a couple of leggy Impatiens in fall.

Chris’s chair was left pushed out from the table and he had forgotten to take his scarred leather bomber jacket from the back.  He had only used the coat up here and kept it on a hook in the broom closet.

Leigh’s eyes stung again and she blinked.  The brown leather felt so soft beneath her fingers.  The inside of the collar was darker where it had rested against his neck over a number of years.  She touched the collar, picked up a sleeve and squeezed the knitted band at the wrist in one fist.

The jacket was cold but she could see Chris wearing it and striding along the beach below the bluff, laughing up at her.

Blinking didn’t hold back tears this time.

This was breaking the promise she had made herself–already.  It was okay to feel nostalgic and even a bit choked up, but there could be no falling apart or letting the terrible hurt take over once more.

She fumbled in her pockets until she found tissues and pressed them to her eyes just as they completely misted over.  The pain in her throat was as much from fighting for control as struggling not to put on the coat and go curl up with the tears until she fell asleep.

No.  This was her new beginning.  Choosing to return to the area known as Chimney Rock Cove and the house called Two Chimneys (because of the two fireplaces, one on either side of the same room) might take more guts than to go to a fresh, strange place, but in time she would be glad of the familiarity.

And she had not really had any choice but to return to see how she did here.  The power of remembered happiness would eventually pull her back anyway.

The baggage she had brought in, one suitcase, still stood just inside the front door that opened into a well-worn and cozy living room where she and Chris had spent hour after hour.  She had left the case there when she heard Niles Latimer but if she decided not to stay she wouldn’t have far to carry the bag back to her car.

The only sound was the distant pounding of the waters in Saratoga Passage onto the driftwood-strewn beach beneath the bluff in front of the house–and the thump of Niles Latimer’s logs.  These and some loud sniffing from Jazzy, her Sheltie, Yorkie mix.  Jazzy didn’t settle until he had explored every corner and cranny of new digs.

Jazzy was seeing the house on Washington’s Whidbey Island for the first time.

Chris never met the dog.

Leigh tapped a foot, summoning up the energy she was famous for.  It had been on the rocky beach below the cottage that she met Chris for the first time.  She had come by chance, looking for a retreat.  A pin in a map was her guide to Chimney Rock Cove, but from the moment she saw the place it seemed familiar and she wanted to be there.  Chris was the clincher.

Sometimes she had been convinced it wasn’t the pin that brought her to Whidbey Island, but fate—not that she believed in fate.  Or did she?  Even the air in the place felt different and colors took on their own fresh brilliance.

Now there was a job waiting for Leigh at Gabriel’s Place, a bar and grill in a forested setting a few miles south of Langley.  She found the help-wanted ad in a discarded newspaper at a Seattle coffee shop and called on impulse before she could change her mind.

Gabriel Jones had interviewed her on the phone and told her she was hired.  Just like that.  Of course she knew him from the times she and Chris had eaten at the restaurant north of the little stone house Chris’s grandfather had built almost entirely with his own hands.

As soon as she had hung up the phone from speaking with Gabriel about the job, and to make sure she didn’t find an excuse to back out, Leigh gave notice at Microsoft and took her software engineering skills north to the island she had tried to stay away from in case she couldn’t deal with the memories.  But after all, thanks to Chris, she owned the house and land at Chimney Rock, and knew the area intimately.  And she didn’t care if designing a web page for a local bar and eatery, getting the accounts computerized and generally trying to drag the place out of the red was a huge step down from what she was trained to do.

The measly pay would cover expenses, not that she cared about that either, and she wouldn’t be the first woman to be way overqualified for a position.

This was where she had been happier than at any other time in her life and sadness had become so old.  She was ready to laugh again, to make a friend or two maybe

She was talking herself into this.

Perhaps she was succeeding.  The least she could do was see how she did spending a night alone in the house.  She filled her lungs with crystal air and shivered at the tingle that whipped over her skin.

Time to pick up and make a life again, that’s what she had told herself, many times, until she finally got the message and knew she was right.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang.  She picked it up on the fifth ring, figuring someone didn’t intend to leave her alone until she answered–not that anyone was supposed to know she was here.

“Hello.”  The wintry evening snapped cold outside but she could see a steel blue moon rising beyond the windows, even with all the lamps switched on.

“You okay?”

Leigh didn’t recognize the voice.  “Who is this?”

“Gabriel Jones…at Gabriel’s Place.  I’ll be there in an hour or so.  I picked up a few groceries for you.  Enough to get you started.  Sorry to be so late coming.”

Of course it was Gabriel.  Who else would it be?  Puffing air into her cheeks and holding it, Leigh tried to think coherently but failed.  She wanted to tell him not to come, didn’t she?  Yes, definitely.

“I’ve got a couple of phone numbers for your neighbors just in case you need to call someone,” he said.  “You can always reach me if you’ve got a problem.”

She and Chris had only come up on weekends and she didn’t recall ever talking to a neighbor.  The nearest house, which must belong to Niles Latimer, was built farther south on a piece of land that jutted out to the water’s edge beneath the bluff.  Chris said he didn’t think he would like it there when the tide was in and water lapped around concrete bulkheads built to protect the foundation of the cabin.

“You still there?” Gabriel said.  He had one of those deep, vibrating voices that sounded like he would sing baritone–and as if he smoked.  Leigh didn’t know about either.  She did know he was an ex-football player who was imposingly huge.

“You don’t have to do all this,” she said.  But she couldn’t be rude.  “I’d be very grateful for the groceries but you don’t need to bother with anything else.  It’s all fine here.”

“I’m not checking the electricity,” Gabriel said.  “Niles will do that.  He knows all that stuff.”

“We already met.  The power seems fine.  Thank you, both of you, for getting the gutters clean and the wood in.”

Leigh tried to ignore Jazzy who was scratching the front door.  The dog should not need to go out again.

Gabriel cleared his throat.  “Good.  Wanted to make sure I told you how glad I am you’re here.  I couldn’t believe my luck when you took the job.  It’s real different from what you’re used to.  Could be a breath of fresh air for you.  Different air anyway.  The pay’s not much but by the time you’ve started bringing in more customers—and I know you will--I’ll be able to afford more.  You do know all your meals are found.  That’ll help.”

She didn’t know how to answer.

“Anyway, Leigh, give yourself a few days to settle in.  Start here when you’re ready.  I’ll be over with the groceries.”

Leigh opened her mouth to say she intended to begin work tomorrow but Gabriel said, “Bye,” and hung up the phone.

The scratching continued, and an uncharacteristic whining.  Leigh made her way back from the kitchen and through the living room with its assortment of slightly sagging armchairs covered with a fabric resembling tartan carpet in shades of rust and green.

She let Jazzy run outside where he only went as far as the edge of the weathered gray porch and sat with his head raised, sniffing. The fringes of blond fur on his ears and above his eyes, stood straight up in the breeze.

The open door let in a whiff of air off the water.  Very little about the house had been changed since Chris’s grandparents’ time.  He had liked it that way and Leigh still did.

She wasn’t ready to climb the stairs to the loft yet.  That’s where they had slept and felt so cocooned and isolated in their own world–safe in each other’s arms and in their love.

Leigh did look up at the patchwork quilt draped over the loft railings.  Even that was grungy-looking.  Many months of neglect had coated the whole place with dirt but cleaning would help her adjust and keep her mind busy at the same time.

A while later the downstairs had begun to feel the way Leigh liked it.  She had tied her hair back with a scarf and rolled up her sleeves and the legs of her jeans.  Sweating from physical labor helped ease the tension.

Illuminated by the yellowish porch light, buckets of dirty, sudsy water made a river through mud near the porch.  Leigh wiped her face on a sleeve.  The house smelled clean.  Within days it would be its old shiny self.

She heard the powerful engine of Niles Latimer’s truck start.  By the time she got to the kitchen door his taillights were disappearing through the canyon of firs as he drove up the track leading to the road.  Leaving him alone like that for hours without as much as the offer of some coffee stank.  She had been so preoccupied she got used to the sounds of him working and now she was sorry he had left.  He had been there a long time.

She grabbed a flashlight and stepped outside the door.  The woodshed was full and extra logs stood in piles covered with tarpaulins.  The whole area was raked free of debris and he had pulled out the jungle of weeds from behind the shed.  No wonder he had spent a lot of time there.  She would take him some cookies or a pie, or both, and write a thank-you note.

“Neighbors look out for neighbors.”
  His voice came to her clearly, and the vision of a vibrant man with steady, amazingly blue eyes.

Loneliness could become a dangerous companion.

Losing herself in work again was the best way to shut out unwanted thoughts.

Darkness became complete and milky mist rose off the water to curl up over the bank. Seat cushions from the chairs had been vacuumed and stood propped on the porch to air out.   If she didn’t bring them in they would get damp.

Followed back and forth by Jazzy, she hauled in the cushions and replaced them.  The bookshelves were dusted, including the books, and the crystal birds Chris had inherited and liked had all been washed in ammonia until they sparkled.  Every table had been polished, the big Oriental rug vacuumed and the wooden floors washed.  Leigh had done the dark boards on her hands and knees.