Love Inspired November 2014 #2 (28 page)

Diane placed a stack of smaller notices on the counter. “And these are flyers for you to stuff in customers' bags along with their purchases.”

“Thank you. I'll make sure we use these.” Ethan picked up the poster, removed a roll of tape from the drawer and headed to the window.

“I think this is going to be our best Square Fair ever. I'll have three racks of clothing from my boutique out front, and everything in the store will be marked down twenty percent that day. You'll have to come by and shop.”

Nicki would love nothing more. “I'm hoping I'll be too busy myself to leave the store.”

Diane touched her arm. “Well, you must slip away and see all the precious baby clothes I'm putting out on the sidewalk. You won't want to miss these deals for that little princess of yours.”

“I'll try my best.”

Diane leaned in close. “I'll put back several things for you to look at. You can come in on Monday. I'll honor the sale price for you.”

“Thank you. That's very sweet.”

Jacqueline stretched out her hand. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Angie Durrant said a reporter from the
Clarion-Ledger
newspaper in Jackson is coming down to do a feature about the Square Fair. And she said one of the local TV stations will be here to cover the events that day.”

Diane clasped her hands together. “Praise God. This will raise so much money for our shelters.”

Nicki's hope soared. She'd counted on the sidewalk sale to shore up the store's bottom line, but with the added publicity, she was beginning to think it might mean a real turnaround.

She approached Ethan as soon as the women left. “Did you hear what they said? The fair is drawing people from Jackson and probably the surrounding areas like Madison, Brandon and Clinton. This could be the answer to my prayers.”

Ethan replaced the tape in the drawer, then rested his elbows on the counter. “I hope so. I know how much you want this store to survive.”

She sighed and laid her hand over his. “It has to. My parents are depending on me. I know I can't count on the sidewalk sale to save Latimer's, but it could give us a big boost.”

Ethan touched his finger to the tip of her nose, making her smile. “Not unless we get this new floor plan together in time. I'd better get back to work.”

Nicki smiled as she watched him go. Without Ethan's help and support, she would be floundering. He kept her focused and moving forward. She was starting to depend on him more and more. But she had to be careful not to depend on him too much. Her goal was to rebuild her confidence and regain her belief in herself. Gathering up the pieces of her brokenness was harder than she'd expected. But she refused to give up. Though there were moments when leaning on Ethan's broad shoulders was very tempting.

* * *

Rain postponed painting the shelves for the next two days, but Friday dawned clear and warm, and Ethan managed to get caught up. The delay had cut into his work on Nicki's apartment, so he called in reinforcements. His buddies from the PTSD group arrived the moment Nicki drove off after work.

Tearing down the wall between the living room and kitchen was a bigger job than Ethan wanted to tackle on his own. Fortunately, Joe and Bobby both had construction experience. The job was completed without any complications, but it was past midnight and they still had to clean up.

Ethan pulled the six-pack of soda from his fridge and started back to the apartment across the hall. He tossed one to each man.

Ron caught his with a frown and a pointed stare. “This is it? We get one soda for all this work?” The others chuckled.

Ethan grinned and tossed another can over to Stan. “I fed you pizza and those chocolate-chip cookies from that lady you're always talking about.”

“Miss Edith.”

Joe tilted his cap back with a frown. “Right. This is supposed to be a service project, remember?”

“Since when is helping out a pretty lady a service?” Bobby tossed a grin over his shoulder.

Stan nodded in agreement. “Yeah, if you ask me, this project is all about Ethan getting that pretty lady to live across the hall from him.”

Ethan ducked his head to keep the guys from seeing the blush on his cheeks. He was worried that having her near him all the time would be dangerous. She already scrolled through his mind like an endless slide show.

Bobby nudged Ethan's shoulder as he walked past. “Yeah, I think the only service being done here is helping Ethan score points.”

Ron moved to his side, a quizzical look on his face. “Are they right? Do you care for this woman?”

“We're friends. Coworkers. Nothing more.”

“Have you told her about your PTSD?”

Ethan placed his cordless screwdriver in his toolbox, avoiding his friend's probing look. “No. She doesn't need to know about that. She wouldn't understand.”

“Ethan, whether your relationship develops or not, you need to get that out in the open. You know that.”

Loud banging on the outside door halted the discussion.

“Dover police. Open up.”

Ethan exchanged puzzled looks with his friends before hurrying out to the back door. A uniformed officer stood in the glow of the landing light, one hand resting lightly on his holstered weapon. “What's the problem, Officer?”

“The problem is no one is supposed to be on the premises. Care to tell me what you're doing here and who else is with you?”

“Yes, of course. Come in. My friends and I are fixing up the apartment for the owner.”

The officer—Captain Ty Durrant, according to his name tag—looked skeptical.

“Is that so? Well, when I called her, she didn't know anything about it.”

Ethan's heart sank. “You called Nicki?”

“It's my job to notify business owners when there are trespassers on their property.”

Footsteps on the wood floors drew the cop's attention. His stern expression eased into a smile as he looked past Ethan. “Ron. What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing. Guys, this is Captain Durrant. Stan Arnold, Joe Ford, Bobby Edmonds and Ethan Stone. He lives here.”

“Oh, you must be the new assistant Nicki took on. Sorry to interrupt your party, but when I drove by and saw all the cars and the lights, I called Nicki and she didn't seem to know anything about it.”

Ethan ran a hand through his hair. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Sorry. But with all the robberies going on, it's my job to question anything that looks out of place.”

“Any leads on that?” Ron asked.

“A few.”

“Hey, I hear congratulations are in order.”

Ethan watched as a huge smile appeared on the cop's face, and he stood a little taller.

“Yeah. It's great news.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Don't know yet. We'll find out next week.”

The sound of the back door opening drew the men's attention. Nicki rushed toward them, stopping in her tracks and staring at Ethan. “What's going on? Why are all these men here?”

She glanced at Ty, who smiled and gestured to the men. “Seems they were working on a project and didn't bother to tell anyone. If you're okay with this, I'll be on my way. I'll leave the explanations to you, Stone.”

She nodded, but Ethan could see the fear and puzzlement in her eyes. He'd messed up. He could only pray she'd understand. He should have told her what he was doing instead of trying to surprise her.

“Someone tell me what's going on.”

His friends drifted back to the apartment, allowing them privacy. He wasn't sure if he was grateful or irritated. He could use some backup.

“Ethan. Tell me what's going on.”

* * *

Nicki stared at Ethan, waiting for some explanation. After getting Ty's call, she'd raced over here, horrible scenarios swirling around in her mind. Had the robbers hit the store? Had Ethan tried to stop them and been injured? Why were there so many cars out back? She didn't recognize any of them. She turned to Ethan once more.

Ethan took her arm and led her to the second apartment, where the men were gathering up tools and equipment. The place looked different somehow, but she was too upset to process that now.

“I suppose I'd better introduce you. These are the guys from my prayer group at Hope Chapel.”

Ethan rattled off names, but Nicki was too befuddled for any of them to register.

“I asked them here to help me finish up.”

“Finish up what?”

He motioned her deeper into the apartment, gesturing with one hand. As she stepped into the living area, she gasped. The outdated apartment had been transformed. The mauve carpet was gone, revealing wooden floors polished to a shine. The hideous borders along the ceiling were gone and a fresh coat of pale green paint made the room warm and soothing.

“It's for you and Sadie.”

Finished collecting their tools, the men filed out with nods to her and smiles directed at Ethan. Nicki looked around the space again, unable to find words to express her surprise. She turned to Ethan. “You did this for me?”

“I know how important it is to have a place of your own.” He broke eye contact and moved farther into the room. “We're not done painting. I'll finish that tomorrow. Then you can move in whenever you're ready. Sadie's room is done.”

Happy anticipation flew through her. Inside the small second bedroom, she pressed her fingertips to her lips, overcome with joy. The room was the perfect shade of pink. She could already see where the crib would go. “It's beautiful. Sadie will love this.” She looked at Ethan, who was leaning against the doorjamb watching her, a pleased smile on his face.

“Her mom's room is ready, too.”

Brushing past him, she crossed to the master bedroom, smiling at the fresh, inviting feel of the room. Light from the arched windows would flood the room in the daytime. Happiness and surprise bubbled up from inside. “I never would have believed that the apartment could look like this. How long have you been working on it?”

Ethan shrugged. “Not that long, really. Taking out the wall in the kitchen took the longest. I needed help with that.”

“Does my father know about this?”

“All done with his approval.”

She faced him, her heart so full of appreciation she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “Why did you do this?”

“You're under a lot of pressure. You deserve a place of your own. This seemed like the best solution.”

“Thank you.” Tears welled up in her eyes. This kind, thoughtful man had gone out of his way to provide a home for her and Sadie. The depth of his consideration was almost too much to grasp. How could she ever tell him how much his gesture meant to her? Getting out of her parents' home was exactly what she needed. Impulsively, she hugged him. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, but he didn't hug her back. She looked up into his face, his brown eyes a warm chocolate color. In that instant she realized she wanted to kiss him. He must have read her thoughts because as she inched closer, he took her shoulders in his hands and held her still.

“Don't. Unless you mean it,” he whispered.

What did he mean? Did he want the real thing? If so, did that mean he had feelings for her? She held his gaze, rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. His dark eyes warmed.

“It's late. You'd better go home.”

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I'll never be able to repay you for your kindness.”

He trailed a finger along her cheek. “Just be happy. That'll be more than enough.”

Chapter Eight

N
icki watched from the upper landing of the back stairs of Latimer's Sunday afternoon as Ethan and Jerry Gordon unloaded the final pieces of furniture from the bed of Jerry's truck. Finally, she had a place of her own. Her own kitchen, her own space. Her own life.

Debi appeared at her shoulder. “Jerry figured four trips to get everything moved from your mom's, but it only took three.”

“They're good. Maybe they should start their own moving company.”

Debi nodded. “It sure would be safer than being a cop.”

Nicki watched Ethan carry the rocking chair with the same ease he did boxes and fixtures in the store. He glanced up and caught her eyes, sending a rush of warm embarrassment into her cheeks. She went inside to make sure the space was clear for the chair. She found herself searching Ethan out, stopping to watch him as he worked. She told herself it was because she was interested in the work he was doing in the store. Truth was, she couldn't ignore him.

Thanks to Debi and Jerry's help, they'd accomplished the move in an afternoon. But having Ethan moving about her place had created too many opportunities for them to bump into one another. So much so, they'd quit making apologies and turned it into a running joke.

“Do you have everything out of your car?” Debi came toward her from the kitchen.

Nicki nodded, looking away from Ethan as he disappeared down the hall with the rocker.

“Okay, well, we need to go, then. Jerry's mom has the kids and he's on duty tonight.”

Nicki gave her friend a hug. “I can't thank you enough for all your help and the use of the truck.”

Jerry walked in with two plastic bags. “That's the last of it.”

After warm goodbyes, Nicki closed the door and glanced around at the chaos that was her living room. It was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. All it needed to be perfect was Sadie. Sounds coming from the small bedroom reminded her that Ethan was still here.

She stopped in the doorway, watching as he assembled Sadie's crib. He double-checked it, making sure everything was secure. The gesture was so sweet and thoughtful it left a strange lump in her chest. It would be so easy to care for him. He was always waiting to help, but never pushing, always giving her space to make her own decisions, but happy to offer a different idea when needed. She could easily imagine him as part of her life, offering a shoulder to lean on and a hand to hold at the end of the day.

He stood, giving the crib one last tug before turning and smiling. “I think Sadie should be safe in her bed.”

Nicki smiled. He always thought of others first. She'd forgotten how nice that was. “She's going to love it. Thank you for helping me move, Ethan.”

“Jerry and Debi helped, too. You're blessed to have such good friends.”

“I am. But so are you. If it weren't for your prayer group, I wouldn't have this apartment.”

Ethan bent down and closed the lid on his toolbox. “Is there anything else that needs to be put together?”

Her life, but he couldn't help with that. “I don't think so.”

She followed Ethan to the door. He set the toolbox down and scanned the cluttered living room. “You sure I can't help you with some of this stuff?”

Nicki shook her head. “Thanks, but I'm looking forward to finding a special place for everything.”

Happiness welled up in her. There had been a time when she'd resigned herself to living with her parents forever. But now she had her own little oasis of privacy. Tears began to stream down her face.

“Ethan, I can never thank you enough for fixing up this apartment. It means everything to me. To have a place where I can do as I please, where no one will find fault or take control—” She smiled before continuing. “It's all because of you. Thank you for having my back, Ethan.” She smiled as an old memory surfaced. “When I was learning to ride a bicycle, my dad would steady it until I got on. Then he would let go and let me try on my own. He was always there ready to catch me, but he never interfered. Knowing he was there was enough. Like you do. I appreciate that so much.” She thought she saw a flicker of sadness pass through his eyes. Perhaps it was because he had never experienced the love of a father in his life.

“You deserve a place of your own.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers trail through the strands, sending a shiver down her arms. The look in his eyes drew her closer, but she pulled away. While she was growing to care more and more for Ethan, she wasn't sure she could handle a relationship right now. She had to concentrate on her and Sadie's future, nothing else.

Didn't she?

It was a question that was getting harder and harder to answer.

* * *

Ethan stared out his apartment window, his mind replaying Nicki's story about her father from the night before. The message was clear. She appreciated his friendship, but that was all it was. Yet when they were together, he knew she was as drawn to him as he was to her. It was why he'd warned her away the other night. He'd realized he was starting to care and he wasn't interested in a friendly kiss. He wanted her to care about him.

Which meant he needed to take Ron's advice. If he hoped for any kind of relationship with Nicki, he had to tell her about his PTSD. He'd spent all night and most of today weighing the pros and cons of opening up to her. Working together these past few weeks had created a deep bond between them. His heart was losing the battle to stay clear of emotional entanglements with her and Sadie. Telling her his situation could end all of that. She might even ask him to leave.

But not telling her could cause the same result. Nicki had hinted that her ex had been secretive, manipulative. She wouldn't be happy to know he'd hidden something like this from her.

But maybe that was for the best. The attraction between them was growing even if neither of them was willing to acknowledge it. Revealing his PTSD to Nicki would either end their relationship or push it forward. Either way, it was time to see where things were headed.

His gaze drifted to the closet in the living room, where he'd stored a box he'd found when he'd cleaned the apartment. It held personal items that he'd meant to ask Nicki about. Maybe that would be a good way to start his talk.

Retrieving the box, he carried it across the hall and knocked on her door. The smile on her face when she saw him buoyed his spirits. It took him a moment to find his voice. “I have something for you.”

She glanced at the box. “What is it?”

“Not sure. But I thought you'd better look.”

She stepped back to allow him to enter. “You can put it by the sofa.”

He placed the box on the floor between the sofa and the easy chair. Sadie was nowhere to be found, and his disappointment was stronger than he'd anticipated. “Sadie asleep already?”

“I just put her down. You can go peek at her if you'd like.”

Quietly, he made his way to the nursery and stepped to the side of the crib. Sadie was sound asleep. Little fists resting on either side of her head, tiny mouth moving as if still eating in her sleep. He ached to touch her, but didn't want to wake her.

Overcome with a yearning to take her picture, Ethan pulled his cell phone from his pocket and swiped open the camera. His heart skipped a beat as he started to aim it at Sadie. What would he see? He'd promised to never take another picture. He looked at the sleeping baby again, his heart swelling with affection. Slowly, he moved the phone until Sadie was framed in the screen. Nothing happened. All he felt was delight in seeing the little girl. He pressed the button with his thumb, capturing the image. Maybe looking through the frame of a phone wasn't the same as looking through the lens of his camera.

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he quietly eased out of the room and rejoined Nicki.

He sat in the easy chair, glancing at the few items she'd already removed from the box. Comic books, a baseball cap and two trophies.

“This box is filled with my brother's things. Where did you find it?”

The tremor in her voice moved him. “It was behind the computer boxes. I slid it into the closet and forgot about it.”

“I wonder why it's here?”

“Maybe your parents brought it over.”

She shook her head. “But Kyle might have the last time he was home. I remember he talked about moving into one of these apartments when he got out of the service. He only had one year left, but he never made it home.”

Ethan touched her hand. “I'm sorry.”

“He was so different that last visit. He was distant and somber. Not at all like his old self.”

Ethan steeled himself and faced her. “Being over there changes a man.”

“I suppose. He had the strangest look in his eyes. Sometimes he'd just stare into the distance like he was miles away and seeing something else, and—”

She looked at him, her eyes widening. “It's the same look I see in your eyes. It's not just being in the war zone. It's more, isn't it?”

Ethan clasped his hands together between his knees. Where to begin? “Nicki, I suspect your brother may have been suffering from PTSD. Post-traumatic—”

“I know what it means. Why didn't he tell us?”

“Maybe he didn't know.”

She looked at him for some explanation.

“When you realize what's happened, it's usually too late.”

Nicki looked into the box, pulling out a well-used baseball glove. “I knew something was wrong, but he wouldn't talk to me. Maybe I could have helped.”

“Doubtful. People who suffer from PTSD need professionals who understand the disorder. Did your brother play pro ball? That's a quality glove.”

She nodded. “One year in the minors, but then he decided he wanted to join the marines. Did you play?”

“A few years in college.”

She stared at the old leather glove a long moment. “You suffer from PTSD too, don't you?”

His throat tightened. “Yes. But I had help, and I've learned to manage the worst of it.”

“What happened to you?”

“I was a photographer with TNZ News, embedded with the troops in several war zones. One day there was an explosion.” He paused. “I couldn't do it anymore. Too many horrific images... I broke.”

She touched his hand, her eyes filled with compassion. “I never thought about how war would affect a journalist. Is that why you left all those blanks on your application? You didn't want me to know?”

“Sometimes people get the wrong idea about PTSD. They think we're all time bombs waiting to go off.”

“Is that where the scars came from? The explosion?”

He nodded.

“But you're better now?”

“Yes. I still have the occasional nightmare and a flash of memory now and then. Still haven't picked up my camera again. Not sure what I'll see when I look through the viewfinder.”

“And flashbacks?”

Ethan swallowed. He wanted to be truthful, but it was proving harder than he'd anticipated. “Few and far between, and I have a support group.”

She frowned. “You do?”

“The guys that helped finish this place, they're not just a prayer group—they're the PTSD support group. We meet once a week.”

She looked at him a moment, then stood and walked across the room, clutching the baseball glove to her chest. “You didn't think I'd understand? Or did you think I'd ask you to leave?”

“I didn't know. Like I said, people react differently. I didn't want to scare you.”

“I'm glad you told me. It explains a lot of things.”

“But does it change anything between us? I'll leave if you're worried. I don't want to add to your burden, Nicki.”

She kept her back to him for a long moment, then turned to face him. “I don't know how I feel. It's a lot to take in. I guess I need time to think about it.”

He moved toward her, his heart in pain when she stepped back, clutching the glove more tightly. She obviously didn't want to be near him right now.

“I'm going to go. I'll be at work in the morning unless you want to make changes. Good night.” Ethan closed the door behind him, praying it wasn't the last time he crossed her threshold.

* * *

Nicki watched the door close behind Ethan, her heart pulling in different directions. Ethan had PTSD. What exactly did that mean? Was he like the characters she saw on television? Those ticking time bombs that might turn violent at any moment, like Ethan had mentioned? Her stomach knotted at the thought. But she'd worked with him for weeks now. He wasn't a violent man. She'd witnessed his gentleness every day, in the way he held Sadie and the way he interacted with her. Ethan possessed a quiet, controlled strength, the kind a woman could depend on for protection. Ethan said he'd had professional help dealing with his disorder. That was good, wasn't it?

All his friends suffered, too. And her brother. Moving to the box, she sorted through the remaining items. A team shirt, a yearbook, news clippings, a copy of a Michael Crichton novel. Things a guy might want to keep to remember good times. But Kyle was gone now. She'd ask her parents if they wanted this stuff. She looked at the baseball glove in her hand. Ethan had said he loved the game. She'd give him the glove.

She was afraid to trust her instincts about men, but she knew in her heart Ethan wasn't a threat or a danger. She wanted him here, across the hall, helping her in the store. Despite her good intentions, she'd grown to depend on him. More than that, she'd come to care for him. A lot.

She'd seen the raw hurt in his brown eyes when she'd told him she needed time to think about what he'd told her. She didn't want him worrying about this all night. Picking up the glove, she crossed the hall and knocked on his door. The tension she saw in his posture when he opened the door made her glad she'd come. “Ethan, I want you to have Kyle's glove.”