Sunrise Point (19 page)

It wasn’t unusual for busy married couples who had both children and careers that took more than the usual forty hours per week to do more communicating through phone calls, emails and during short breaks in the workday than at other times. So it was with Jack Sheridan and his wife, Mel. What was unusual was for Preacher to call Mel and ask her to drop in to the bar when things were quiet to have a chat with her husband.

“What’s the matter?” she asked when she got there.

“Nothing,” Jack answered. “Why?”

“Because Preacher asked me to come over if I wasn’t busy. He said you needed counseling.”

Jack grumbled and poured himself a cup of coffee. “He’s getting worse than an old woman.”

Mel stared him down for a minute, then she went to the door to the kitchen, pushed it open and said, “Preach, help me out here. I have a patient in a half hour and Jack doesn’t want to talk right now.” Then she went back to her stool.

Momentarily Preacher was standing beside Jack. “So,” the cook said. “You haven’t told her what’s wrong?”

“I don’t have anything to say!” he said with attitude.

Preacher faced Mel, and about that time Paige came into the bar, standing beside her husband. “About a week ago Luke brought a friend in for a beer. Old friend of Luke’s from Army days—an old Black Hawk pilot. Well, it turns out Jack and Coop, the friend, knew each other way back when. Some woman accused Coop of beating her up, Jack called the MP’s and Coop was locked up. But it turned out to be some kind of misunderstanding, Coop got out, Jack shipped out, the woman disappeared long ago and now what we have, with holidays and town parties coming up, is a little bad blood between the Riordans and Jack. A Riordan-Sheridan standoff over something that happened a long time ago with a lot of mixed-up details and facts.”

Mel was stunned silent for a moment. Her mouth hung open, her blue eyes were wide. Finally she said, “Huh?”

Preacher took a deep breath. Then he began again. “About a week ago…”

Paige put a hand on her husband’s forearm. She shook her head. “Not from the beginning, John,” she said. Paige looked at her friend. “Mel, about fifteen years ago a marine and a soldier were both at the same place at the same time. Your marine was friendly with a waitress who confided she had a bad relationship. Abusive, she said. You know Jack—he offered to help if needed. He gave her a phone number and a couple of days later, she called that number and left Jack a message that she needed help.”

“And I went,” Jack said. “She was banged up pretty bad and crying. I tried to take her to the hospital, but she wouldn’t go. So I called the police and stayed with her until they came.”

Mel looked at him. “What did she want, Jack?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Moral support, I guess. I suggested she get herself away from whoever would do that to her and she said she’d go anywhere I’d take her, just to get her out of there. But I couldn’t do any more—I was scheduled out on a military transport with a squad of marines. And our destination was privileged. So she told the MP’s who beat her up and then, wouldn’t you know, he stumbled in, half drunk, knuckles bruised, denying he’d ever touched her…”

“And Jack,” Mel asked. “Who told the military police that he was the one? Was it you? Did you say, that’s him?”

“He could hardly stand up! He’d been passed out and looked guilty as all hell.”

Preacher made a sound. “Fortunately that sort of thing never happened to you.”

“That’s how I got to read his tattoos,” Mel said. “Remember that, Preach? He was completely toasted, face down on the floor and I sat up with him all night.”

“All right, all right,” Jack said. “Did I need an alibi? Did I have bruised knuckles?”

Mel shook her head. “My Jack,” she said. “A hundred women have loved him, wanted him, been willing to lie or kill to get him… .”

“Come on,” he said impatiently. “She just needed some help!”

“Possibly,” Mel said. “Okay, probably,” she amended. “It does sound like there might be more to it, like maybe why the waitress couldn’t get charges against the soldier to stick, or maybe he had an alibi besides being crocked or something. If they arrested him but let him out and he stayed in the Army, there’s a piece of the puzzle missing. Don’t you want to know what that piece is? On the highly improbable chance you could be wrong?”

“I heard sarcasm there,” Jack said.

“Sorry,” Mel said. “We have a little problem in the marriage,” she said to Paige. “Two people with an overwhelming need to be right.”

“I did nothing wrong,” Jack insisted. “When a woman is battered and names her assailant, you call the cops.”

“It’s not about right or wrong, Jack—you did nothing wrong. It’s about the details. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“That’s just you,” Jack accused his wife. “I’m flexible.”

“Right,” Preacher said. “I’ve seen a lot of that, just not lately.”

“Look, he doesn’t want to explain the circumstances to me any more than I want to hear them from him,” Jack said in a sulk.

“Ducky,” Mel said. “Listen, Jack, it probably doesn’t matter whether you and this soldier kiss and make up. He’s just a visitor. But you should work things out with Luke because he’s permanent. And he’s a good friend of yours.”

“I haven’t heard from him in a week,” Jack said. “I didn’t do this, you know. What would you do if you had a patient, beat up? Would you tell her not to make so much noise with all that crying?”

“Try not to be such a jackass,” Paige said. He shot her a surprised look. He was at once shocked and not; Paige had been in a very scary, abusive relationship before she met John. But Paige wouldn’t say shit if she had a mouthful. “Just saying,” Paige added.

“I suggest you get his story and see if you can check it out for accuracy,” Mel said. “Really, I tend to lean the other way—the man is always lying.”

“And always guilty,” Jack muttered. When he saw his wife’s slow smile he actually flushed.

“Since I’ve been in this town, I’ve come up against a couple of situations with really naughty women who faked being abused by men who were the gentlest angels alive. Remember that ex-wife of Aiden Riordan’s? Pretending he beat her up when he was actually with Erin in San Francisco for days? Lord help us all! So if you won’t talk to the guy, why don’t you ask Luke for some details? Preacher here will be happy to do a background check for you, see if the guy has any kind of record. And there’s always Walt Booth if you need some Army brass on your side to find out what really happened back then.”

“I guess it’s possible,” Jack muttered.

“We need to bury this,” Preacher said. “I know Luke. If this friend of his turned out to be guilty of felony assault, he’d want to know. He’d want to be done with him. And we owe it to Luke.”

“I think my work here is done,” Mel said, standing up. “I wondered what was eating you,” she said to her husband. “Call Luke right away—this thing has been festering long enough. I thought we were going to need counseling or something.”

“You didn’t see what I saw,” Jack said.

“But I have, sweetheart,” Mel reminded him. “I know, I know—it’s never as simple as it looks. You don’t know the guy but you know Luke. You should talk to him about this, then see if you can figure it out.” And she leaned toward him for a kiss. Then she patted his cheek and smiled. “No wonder women fall at your feet. You’re such a soft touch.”

“I heard sarcasm there.”

She just laughed. “I have a patient pretty soon. See you for dinner.”

* * *

Things were opening up for Nora Crane in ways she had not dared hope for or imagine. First of all, she hadn’t expected to ever get to know her father and here she was, spending at least one afternoon every week with him. On almost every visit, Susan came along. And every time they appeared, more items for Nora’s home and children arrived with them. Jed pulled a port-a-crib and fancy stroller out of his trunk and she had to fight tears of gratitude. Fay wouldn’t have to sleep on the mattress with her mother and sister anymore. But that was nothing to the Sunday they were scheduled to have a picnic but were rained out; Jed and Susan arrived pulling a trailer.

“It looks like our picnic will be another day, but I think we’ll have fun anyway,” he said.

“What on earth…?”

“That old couch of yours, Nora—it just has to go! Your table and two chairs aren’t in much better shape.”

And in that rented trailer were a sofa, a chair, a side table, a lamp, small kitchen table and four chairs.

“No, you didn’t,” she said in a whisper. “Jed, you have to stop this or I’ll be taking care of you in your impoverished old age!”

“I can’t stop—not until I see you and the little girls comfortable. I don’t mean with extravagance—this stuff was on sale and wasn’t expensive as furniture goes. I just want to help you get on your feet.”

“But I can never repay you for this!”

“All I ever wanted was to have you in my life again,” he said. “I never counted on the bonus of granddaughters.”

When the furniture was brought into the house, Berry was absolutely thrilled. She climbed right up on it, her little eyes so round and happy. Fay immediately pulled herself up, too, and patted it.

Rain or not, nothing got past her neighbors. Martha and Adie were outside, checking out the delivery and from down the street Leslie and Conner arrived—Conner wanted to help Jed get the new furniture in and the old furniture out. The ratty old couch went in the U-Haul. “I’ll drop this off at the dump unless you have other plans for it,” Jed said.

“Nothing is thrown away around here without permission from Reverend Kincaid,” Nora said. “In fact, in a couple of months I will have been here a year and without the charity of my friends and neighbors, I don’t know if we’d have survived the winter.”

It was hard to imagine anyone being more needy than Nora had been but sure enough, Noah wanted that couch. “I think I know just the place for it,” he told her over the phone. Conner and Jed carried it through the drizzle for a block to the church where it would sit until it could be delivered further.

Her children were outfitted for the cold weather, there was new bedding, warm blankets and good food in the house. Just when Nora thought she couldn’t possibly wish for more, Maxie asked her, “Nora, do you bake?”

“Welllll,” she said doubtfully. “When I was a girl I made cookies, but it’s been a long time.”

“Do you think you’d like to?”

“If I had the time, I would,” she said. “I can follow directions, I think. But Maxie, I don’t have much cookware on hand.”

“Here’s what I’d like to do—and I’ve spoken to Tom about my idea. I have a couple of very big weekends coming up. If you’re agreeable, you could pick apples until lunchtime, run to town and fetch Adie and the little ones and come back. We’ll give them lunch and I think they’ll either nap or maybe Berry will even help. I think a few of my friends will arrive later in the week—you’ll like them. They’re as ancient as I am, catty as can be, a little on the doting side when it comes to small children and they give Tom as much grief as they can get by with. Would you like to help me in the afternoons this week?”

“Oh, Maxie, I would love to!”

“I think Martha would rather hike than bake, but I’ll leave you to extend an invitation to her, as well.”

* * *

It seemed to be the natural order of things in Maxie’s house that afternoon just stretched into evening—everyone gathered around her dinner table for a meal that had been started in the afternoon along with the baking. The little girls napped and when they didn’t, Berry stood on a stool in the big kitchen, stirring, and Fay sat in her booster chair amidst the commotion, playing and snacking.

By dinner on Wednesday, they had accomplished a great deal—there was apple butter, apple pies stored in the root cellar where it was cool, all kinds of cookies for the weekend festivities. Nora had also learned to bake bread and make cinnamon rolls; the fall vegetables had come in, so there was zucchini bread galore.

Nora worked as hard in the kitchen as she did in the orchard. “Pace yourself,” she said to Maxie. “Don’t wear yourself out before your big weekend.”

“Oh, darling, this doesn’t tire me—it energizes me! I love feeding people.”

Nora looked forward to dinnertime the most—the leaf was put in the table and everyone gathered around it, laughing, eating, telling tall tales. Adie was in her element—she couldn’t do things like this at home alone and loved being with friends. And when Tom came in cold and tired after a long day in the orchard, he was not the same man Nora had met when she first applied for the job. He was cheerful and playful and she tried valiantly to tamp down fantasies of being the woman in his home when he finished his day’s work.

But it was when Berry held out a cookie and said, in a voice loud and clear, “Tom! Eat dis! I maked it!” Nora just kind of went over the edge. And she had to run and hide.

* * *

“Where’s Nora?” Tom asked.

The women all looked around. “Bathroom?” Adie suggested.

“No one in there,” Tom said. “Keep an eye on the girls, I’ll find her.” He took a beer with him through the living room, dining room, even upstairs. Finally he grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door and went outside to find her huddled in a wicker chair in a far corner of the porch. Crying and shivering.

“Hey, now,” he said, whipping off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. He pulled a matching chair close to her. “What’s with this? Why are you crying?”

“It’s complicated,” she said with a hiccup in her voice. “It’s just that I started feeling so…so safe. So much like being a part of a big, wonderful family. And then Berry…”

“What about Berry?” he asked. “She’s having fun.”

“She’s having
so
much fun,” Nora said. She sniffed. “Honestly, what a wimp I am. I held it together through new toys, clothes and even furniture, but this week…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hanky, handing it to her. She looked at it cautiously and said, “You sure?”

“Blow,” he said. “Then talk to me.”

She blew her nose. Hard. A little laugh escaped through her tears.

“Now talk,” he said.

“I don’t expect you to understand, but when I was growing up and it was just my mother and I, we didn’t have fun times like this. We didn’t have people around. And Berry…” She crumbled again.

“What about Berry?” he pushed.

“Did you hear her? Did you hear her talk? Like she was giving orders? She’s growing out of that severe shyness, Tom.”

“Sure,” he said, baffled. “She’s getting used to all of us. She’s been around us a lot lately… .”

“I was so worried about her,” Nora said. “I was worried about all of us—about us ever getting it together, having enough to get by, to stop being
afraid!
”

He wiped a tear from her cheek. “Were you afraid?” he asked softly.

“Oh, you have no idea… .”

He smothered a chuckle. “You always act so brave,” he said.

“Yeah, I act,” she told him. “What else am I gonna do? Growing up I was timid, scared of everything.”

“You?”

“Oh, my gosh, I was so scared of making my mother or teachers or anyone mad. And then what did I do but allow all that timidity to get me hooked up with this stupid guy who made my mother look like a day at the beach. There were times when I was pregnant…”

She was quiet for a moment and he took her hand. “Tell me. You were scared. Tell me.”

“Oh, Tom, you don’t want to hear all that… It’s all so humiliating, so maudlin.” But he nodded and she said, “Okay, I was on welfare and I worried all the time—that I’d be killed in my bed because I lived in such a scary place surrounded by gangs and dealers. Scared that I wouldn’t be able to protect my children. And I thought life was hard when I lived with an angry mother, then it got so much harder. When I bake with Maxie and eat at your table, I remember those times the social worker gave me supplemental protein drinks so I’d have enough calories for the pregnancy and I… I just never thought I’d have this kind of life—picking food from the garden, baking in a warm kitchen, sitting with my children at a table filled with such happiness and laughter… .”

He found himself stroking the hair over her ear. He had an unwelcome flash of Darla in her expensive boots, picking at her meal, taking it all for granted. He reminded himself that Darla shouldn’t be ridiculed for making something of herself. And she’d certainly had her own heartache.

“When Chad left me in this town, even though I didn’t know how we would survive, I was so relieved that he was gone, that I was in a place not so terrifying, and… If it hadn’t been for Noah…”

Tom wrapped his hand around her upper arm. “Did he hurt you?”

“Noah?” she asked, incredulous. “Of course not! Noah helped, but I didn’t make it easy for him. It’s so hard for me to trust anyone.”

He smiled at her. “But you trust Maxie?”

“Yes,” she said with a sniff and a smile. “I love Maxie.”

“And Adie?”

“Adie would never hurt a fly,” she said.

“Martha?”

“Martha is strong. So good, so responsible. I love her independence.”

“Jed?” he asked.

“It’s coming. I get more sure of him every week. He’s been so good to me. I’m going to let Maxie have a crack at him. If
she
trusts him…”

“Maxie has a sixth sense about things like that. I don’t know where she got it. Living life, I guess. And… me?” he asked. “You trust me?”

She gave him a shy smile. “I think so, yes,” she said.

“What do you think of stuffed grape leaves?” he asked.

A short burst of laughter escaped her. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“I bet you’d like them. And kabobs—you’d like them, too.”

“Tom, sometimes you confuse me.”

“Are you better now? As in, done crying?”

“I’ve done more crying since I met you than I’ve done in the past couple of years, and the past few years were definitely cry-worthy. I don’t think you bring out my best. I get so vulnerable around you. I tell you things I never tell anyone.”

“I think that’s okay. It means you think of me as a friend. Now here’s what we have to do, Nora. You have to dry your tears and go with me back in the kitchen. You don’t want the women to worry about you.”

“Right,” she agreed, wiping her eyes.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said. He held her beer toward her. “Want a sip?”

“Thanks,” she said, fitting her lips to the bottle. She tilted it up and took a swallow. She stood and gave him his jacket back. “This turned out to be so much more than a job, Tom,” she said. “I want you to know how much I appreciate it.”

“I know. Let’s get some dinner. I’m starving.”

“Me, too. Even though I sampled all day long.”

Dinner was some of Maxie’s best stew, a salad thrown together by Adie and bread baked by Nora—her bread debut. For her efforts, she took home a batch of cinnamon rolls and promised to be back bright and early to pick apples.

After Nora, the children and Adie had been loaded up, Tom said to Maxie, “Once the festival weekends are behind us, would you be willing to babysit one evening? I think I’d like to take Nora over to Arcata for dinner.”

She lifted her brows. “Really? Why?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Because her gratitude for every little thing, even the things she has to work hardest for, is so damn charming.”

“But what about Miss Picky Pants?”

“Maxie,” he warned.

“I slip sometimes,” she said with a shrug.

“Right… .”

“I think those little girls are divine,” she said. “I’d be happy to babysit while you take their mother out. I bet she hasn’t had a date in forever.”

“We’re just friends,” he pointed out.

“I bet she hasn’t had dinner out with a friend in forever. I’m going to run over to the coast and hit Costco for some movies—like Disney DVDs or something.” Then she smiled very approvingly.