Sunrise Point

  “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.

  * * *

  Jack drove out to the Riordans’ house and parked right in front. As luck would have it, Cooper was sitting on the porch in the late-afternoon sun. When he saw Jack he folded the USA TODAY on his lap. Jack got out of his truck and approached warily, putting one booted foot on the step just as Luke came to the doorway and stood there. Watching. Listening.

  “Jack,” Luke said in greeting.

  “Hey.” But then he directed his attention to Cooper. “This is a real small town.”

  “I’ve been giving you plenty of space,” Coop said.

  “What I came to say is—you have as much right to enjoy this town as I do. I don’t know what your plans are, but just because we don’t see eye to eye doesn’t mean…” He paused and looked down briefly. “Look, besides you, Luke, Colin and me, only a couple of people know about our situation—my wife and my cook and his wife. And not having been there at the time, they aren’t convinced you’re guilty of anything, so there’s no reason for you to be scarce. Know what I mean?”

  “I’m not going to be around much longer,” Coop said. “I’m hanging out long enough for our buddy, Ben, to show up for a little hunting. Then I guess we scatter again. And when we scatter, it takes us a while to meet up. Next time, maybe we meet somewhere else.”

  “Well, hunting is good here,” Jack said. “Next couple of weekends the Cavanaughs have their orchard open to the public—pick your own apples, get some of their cider, hang out with friends. But this town—folks tend to gather at things like that, so even if you’re not that interested in apples, it’s a good way to socialize. Then there’s the pumpkin patch party out at Jilly’s farm the next weekend. Some people dress up. You could just go as, you know, a grump. That would work.”

  “What makes you think I have a sense of humor about this?” Coop asked.

  “I just want to say one thing, Cooper,” Jack said. “I think I did the only thing I could do back then. If what Luke thinks
of you is accurate, you’d have done what I did—try to take the woman to get medical help, call the police. What happened after that was completely out of my hands. I shipped out the next day—I was just there with a Marine squad for Airborne training—we don’t hang around Army posts that often. You’d have done the same thing.”

  “Might’ve,” he relented. “I don’t know that I would’ve thought the worst of someone I knew nothing about.”

  “Why’d she tell me she was in a bad relationship? Abusive?” Jack asked, a curious frown drawing his heavy brows together.

  “Maybe because we dated for a while and fought like crazy,” Coop said. “Arguing, that’s all—nothing physical. She wanted to get serious, wanted to come with me to Ft. Rucker, and she also wanted to hang out with a lot of different guys, so we stopped going out but she kept calling me and I slid back a time or two, so—”

  “Slid back?” Jack asked. And to add insult to injury, he laughed.

  “I was twenty-two!”

  Jack ran a hand around the back of his neck. “Yeah, I vaguely remember twenty-two…” He chuckled a little. “I’m a big enough man to admit, my brain was not between my ears.”

  “I never hit a woman in my life,” Coop said.

  “Wish I could say the same,” Jack said. “I grew up with four sisters and the two older ones… Hell, they tortured me. If I could get one off on one of them, I did—but that stopped when I was about twelve.”

  “I have two older sisters,” Coop said.

  “I have two younger, too.”

  “I have one younger,” Coop said. “But she’s a doll. And I grew into the older ones eventually.”

  “What the hell were you doing at her house fifteen years ago?” Jack asked. “Sliding back?”

  “Hell if I know. I woke up on a picnic table in the park across the street with the biggest headache I’ve ever had. I was probably looking for any familiar place because I was not driving anywhere. And everything went to hell from there.”

  “Yeah,” Jack said. “Well, hell. Listen, about these town parties, it’s a good time. Not long after Halloween it gets too cold for things like that and right up until Christmas, we’re driven inside. The Riordans who don’t already live here usually show up now and then. You shouldn’t let me keep you away. And you’re welcome at the bar anytime.” Jack glanced at Luke who was smiling faintly. “No need to have an escort.”