Sweet Tomorrows (9 page)

Dennis was in a difficult situation, but I knew he would share with me what he could. As if making peace with himself, he slowly nodded. “All I can tell you is this. We had prearranged pickup dates for Mark, Ibrahim, and his family across the border in Saudi Arabia. If he didn't make one, we had others scheduled. Six in all. Mark didn't show for any of the six prearranged dates.”

My body went stock-still as I struggled against the shocking ramifications of this news. I came face-to-face with my greatest fear: that Mark could be dead.

“You've heard no word from him or Ibrahim?” I asked, grasping for anything that would give me a reason to hope.

Dennis held my gaze, his eyes filled with pity as he shook his head.

“In other words, you're telling me you think Mark is dead.” I was crumbling on the inside, but I hoped it didn't show.

Dennis ignored the question. “If you hear anything further, will you let me know?”

“If you hear anything, will you let me know?” I repeated.

He hesitated and then agreed. “I will.”

I studied him and he steadfastly met my look and didn't flinch. He was a man of his word and I knew I could trust him. “Then I will, too,” I promised.

He replaced his dress hat and walked toward the front door. “I wish I had better news, Jo Marie.”

“Me, too,” I replied, my heart aching. Mark had made it clear when he left that he didn't expect to return. I'd promised myself I wouldn't hang on to the spiderweb-thin thread of hope. And yet that was exactly what I'd done.

Emily cooked dinner, but I wasn't hungry and didn't bother to make a pretense of eating. The numbness had stayed with me all afternoon, that tightness in my stomach, that ache in my heart. I needed to call Bob Beldon; he'd want to know what I'd learned, but I couldn't bring myself to make the call. Nothing felt real, and yet reality was staring me in the face.

“You okay?” Emily asked with a worried frown. “I don't mean to pry, but if you want a shoulder to cry on, I'm a good listener.”

“Thanks,” I said, “but I don't feel much like talking.”

The sympathetic look she sent me said she understood. “Is there anything I can do?”

I shook my head. “Nothing, thanks.”

After dinner Emily went up to her room and I retreated into my own. Rover still wasn't himself, but he looked better than he had earlier. He lay down at my feet as I sat in my comfortable chair. Although I had no interest in watching TV, I turned it on, hoping a distraction would help me out of this blue funk.

When my cell phone rang, it startled me to the point that I jumped. I reached for it but didn't recognize the number.

“Hello,” I said tentatively.

“Jo Marie? It's Greg from the party. Karen gave me your number. I hope you don't mind my calling you.”

“Greg…Hi.” I did my best to sound pleased to hear from him. I made a determined effort to hide the turmoil churning inside of me.

“I had a great time over the Fourth.”

“I did, too.” It seemed like the holiday had been light-years earlier, yet it'd been only a day. That didn't seem possible. Twenty-four hours and it felt as if a year had passed.

“I wanted to connect and let you know that I really enjoyed meeting you,” Greg said.

“Thanks. It was a fun day.” And it had been, although there was little to celebrate now.

“I was wondering if you'd like to get together again,” Greg said.

His invitation shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. I hesitated, unsure what to tell him.

The silence felt awkward and uncomfortable as I wrestled with how best to respond. My head spun. Mark hadn't made me any promises. He'd done everything within his power to tell me he wasn't coming back, despite the few times I'd heard from him. That had been weeks ago now.

Weeks and weeks.

He hadn't made it across the border or made it to the rendezvous point.

“Karen told me you're a widow. I don't know if anyone mentioned that my wife died nearly four years ago.”

No one had said anything. Four years. About the same time as Paul.

“I haven't dated much since, and I have to tell you I'm more than a little nervous about this. If you're not ready, I understand.”

“I'm ready,” I blurted out, my decision made. “I'd enjoy seeing you again.”

We talked for nearly an hour. Greg was a great conversationalist, and when we disconnected I felt better than I had all night.

It was time to let go, really let go this time, and move forward.

I was concerned about Jo Marie. She'd been withdrawn and quiet all through dinner, hardly saying a word. She'd picked at her food, too, showing no interest in the blackened chicken Caesar salad, a meal I knew she'd enjoyed in the past. Almost immediately after dinner, she excused herself and escaped into her room.

Later, when I came downstairs to check on her, I found her in better spirits. I'd heard the phone ring and hoped that whoever she'd spoken to had helped her process whatever it was that her visitor had said that upset her. Seeing that her mood was lighter, I didn't feel the need to suggest we have tea and a chat. I respected her privacy, but if she needed a willing ear, then I was there for her.

Reassured that Jo Marie was fine, I returned to my room and read until nearly midnight, caught up in a story. Because the room felt stuffy even with air-conditioning, I cracked open the window. Right away a cool breeze swayed through the third-story room. When I turned my light off, my brain was full of the story I'd been devouring. Over the summer months, I try to read as much as possible because it's difficult to find the time during the school year. While in college I'd gotten hooked on romances and contemporary women's fiction. However, love stories with happy endings depressed me these days, seeing that I didn't have one of my own and most likely never would. Lately, I'd really been into mysteries, which seemed a better fit, not that I was looking to murder anyone. The plots were interesting and I enjoyed the challenge of identifying the guilty party.

My life felt like an ongoing challenge. My house hunt had been less than satisfactory. Even my real estate agent was growing impatient with me, and I didn't blame her. What I needed and wanted were inconsistent. The only thing I could tell Dana was that I'd know the right house when I saw it. I appreciated her efforts but feared my heart was stuck on the house with the orchard, the one where Nick Schwartz currently lived.

By nature I'm a light sleeper, but I was deeply involved in my dream when I stirred at the sound of a dog barking. Even in my sleep I recognized that bark—Elvis. It didn't seem possible that Elvis was outside the inn. Not at this time of the night. My eyes flew open and I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand.

Three a.m.

Not questioning my reasons, I tossed aside the covers and went to the open door leading out to my small balcony. Down below, walking up the driveway, were Elvis and Nick Schwartz. I'd seen a man and a dog late at night once before but hadn't put two and two together. I couldn't imagine what they were doing or why they would be here. By all that was right, I should have hesitated, should have ignored Nick and his dog, but did I do that? Oh no, not me. It startled me to realize I was happy to see him. I grabbed my sweatshirt, slipped it over my head, and raced down the two flights of stairs at breakneck speed.

I flew out the back door off the kitchen, as that was the closest one to the driveway. The security alarm made a series of short beeping sounds. I paused briefly, hoping the alarm didn't wake Rover or Jo Marie. Apparently not.

Hurrying onto the driveway, I slowed my pace when I saw that Nick had caught sight of me. Elvis, too. Both stood frozen, as if doubting it was me.

“Hey,” I said.

He didn't answer.

“It's the middle of the night.”

“You going to report me as a trespasser?” he asked, keeping a tight hold on Elvis's leash.

“Not my place.” Even if it was, I wouldn't.

Elvis went as far forward as the leash would allow, and I bent down to pet his fur.

“You okay…you know, after the other night?”

“Fine.” His tone was testy.

“Did you come to see me?” I asked, hoping that was true, knowing it wasn't.

“No. I didn't even know you were here.”

This was confusing. “Then why are you here?”

“I have trouble sleeping,” Nick said, as if admitting a character flaw.

“I do, too, at times,” I admitted.

“You own the inn?”

“No, Jo Marie Rose does.” Clearly he didn't know much about the town in which he currently lived.

“You a friend of hers?”

He was full of questions. “We're becoming friends. I'm boarding here while looking for a place of my own.”

“She own the dog?”

“Yeah.”

“He recover?”

I nodded. “Have you ever seen a dog with a hangover? It isn't a pretty sight.”

Nick grinned. “Can't say that I have.”

“I saw you and Elvis and came rushing down…I wanted to thank you for the other night.”

He shrugged off my appreciation as though he didn't want to hear it.

“Would you like to sit on the porch awhile?” I asked, hoping he wouldn't refuse. “The view from there is lovely and it's restful.” Seeing it was the dead of night, the view wasn't going to be nearly as spectacular as it was in the middle of the day.

He seemed to be in some kind of internal debate before he nodded. I struggled to hide my smile. He remained leery of me, although he'd taken a huge risk on my behalf the other night at the biker bar. One on one, I suspected Nick could have held his own, but against an entire motorcycle club, well, it would have been ugly.

He hesitated and it looked like he was about to change his mind.

“I don't bite,” I assured him.

He grinned. “Not sure I believe that.” Whether he did or not, he followed me to the porch.

We sat in the very chairs that Jo Marie and I so often did, overlooking the cove. The moon was bright, casting a warm glow across the still waters. The lights from the Bremerton shipyard sparkled in the distance. For the first few minutes, neither of us spoke. I looked skyward at the amazing display of stars. Nick's attention was focused on the night sky as well. I thought I could see Venus, but then I wasn't that knowledgeable about the position of the planets and wasn't about to make a fool of myself by pretending I was.

“It's peaceful here,” Nick whispered.

“It is,” I returned in a low voice, stretching out my legs and crossing my ankles. “I sometimes sit out here at night and think.” My hair was in total disarray and I was grateful for the dark. I wished I'd taken time to run a brush through it, but then I might have missed talking to Nick and seeing Elvis. We hadn't gotten off to a good start, and I was hoping to correct that.

“What do you think about?” he asked.

I shrugged, unwilling to delve into anything too personal. “I don't know: life, the future, nothing profound, just everyday stuff. What about you? What do you think about when you're taking these nighttime strolls?”

His response was the same as mine. “Nothing of importance. Mainly I walk in order to get tired enough to sleep.”

“Working on the house doesn't do that?”

“Apparently not.”

I suspected his mind was occupied with thoughts of his brother and the car crash that claimed the other man's life. Nick didn't bring up the accident and I didn't pry; that wasn't my nature. I had secrets of my own and wasn't prone to spilling them out like some trashy talk-show guest for strangers to dissect.

We both seemed caught up in the peacefulness of the moment, although I was well aware of the man sitting next to me. For reasons I didn't want to examine more closely, I wanted to get to know Nick better. Yes, I was interested in his house, but it went beyond that. He intrigued me. The tragedy that had marked his life—the way he hid himself away and came out at night. The tragic hero had always attracted me. Strange, really, as it was highly unlikely I would be able to comfort or cure him.

Elvis rested between us in almost the exact spot where Rover loved to curl up. His head was inclined toward me as if waiting for me to speak. Nick reached down and rested his hand on the dog's head, ruffling his ears.

“Did Elvis's bark wake you?”

“Not at all—well, maybe,” I confessed. “I read until nearly one. Actually, I've been doing a lot of reading lately. Summers give me that opportunity,” I continued. If he suspected Elvis woke me, he might be tempted to avoid the inn, and I didn't want him to do that, especially on my account.

“You only read in the summers?” he questioned.

“I'm a kindergarten teacher, and I don't get much free time during the school year. I'll be teaching in Cedar Cove Elementary come September, which is why I'm at the inn now, well, until I can find my own place.”

“Where did you move from?”

“Seattle.”

“You looking to rent or buy?”

“Buy.”

“Any luck finding what you want?”

“Not yet.” I avoided his gaze. “You plan on living in the house once you finish the renovations? I mean, you're obviously living there now, but do you plan to stay?”

He sat up a bit straighter, as if he didn't like my question. “What makes you ask?”

Fearing I wouldn't be able to hide my interest, I shrugged as if I was simply making conversation. “No reason. It seems like a big house for just one person is all.” It suddenly occurred to me that he might not be living alone. I'd made the assumption, but I could be wrong. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask, when he answered me.

“It is a big house for just me,” he agreed, and then abruptly changed the subject, as if he wanted to avoid anything having to do with the house or his work there. “What made you apply for a job in Cedar Cove?”

I brought my feet up to the edge of the chair and rested my chin on my bent knees. “I was here last summer with a…friend for his class reunion and fell in love with the town.”

“A friend?”

“Yes.” I had no intention of elaborating. “The inn is wonderful. I don't remember being anywhere where I've felt more at—”

“Peace?” he cut in.

“Yes,” I returned, surprised he knew what I was about to say. “I feel at home here, although eventually I'll need to move on. You know how it is when you're in limbo, waiting and impatient. I don't feel that, though. I need to find my own place and I will eventually, but for now I'm content.”

“You'll find a house,” he said confidently.

I sincerely hoped he was right. I didn't want to pressure him, but at the same time I was curious. “What brings you here to the inn, especially this time of the night?” This was the question he'd avoided earlier. Set back from the street by a long driveway, Nick had to go out of his way to walk the property.

He took his time before speaking. “I sort of stumbled upon it during one of my midnight treks. For whatever reason, Elvis steered me here. I tugged on his leash, but he insisted we turn down the driveway. After a five-minute tug-of-war, I gave in and followed him. I don't know what it is, but after walking around the inn I can find enough peace to go to sleep.”

His words surprised me. Jo Marie had mentioned that the inn was a place of healing. I couldn't help but wonder if that contentment I felt was part of what she'd told me. I knew practically nothing about Nick other than what Dana had shared.

“We both found peace here, then.” Nick grinned, and the action transformed his face. He was a big man, and a handsome one, but his appeal increased tenfold with a smile. Rather than stare at him, I looked away, irritated with myself for being physically attracted to him. I couldn't, wouldn't, let myself get drawn into another romantic relationship. But I had to admit Nick Schwartz tempted me.

I released an involuntary yawn.

“You're tired. No need to keep me company.”

“I don't mind.”

“Go. I'm feeling like I could sleep now myself.”

He was right, I was tired, but at the same time I didn't want our conversation to end. It was the dark, I suppose, the anonymity of it, sitting close to each other like this. There was a certain freedom in that. The moonlight made it more like we were in the shadows. I could just barely make out his features. It was the most comfortable Nick had been around me, and me with him.