Sweet Tomorrows

  “It did to me, too, Greg.” I hadn’t felt like this since I first met Paul, but I didn’t tell him that. We’d hit it off for sure, but I wasn’t ready to rush into a relationship, especially since I remained in love with Mark.

  Greg lowered his voice as if he was about to make a confession. “Since Julie died, I feel like I’ve been living in a fog.”

  “I know what you mean,” I whispered.

  “This afternoon for the first time I felt the sun on my face.”

  I realized he didn’t mean that in the literal sense. I’d felt the warm heat of that sunshine, too, but I’d also experienced that glow with Mark. All too soon, however, I was cast back into the shadows.

  “I said too much, didn’t I?” Greg said, regret coating his voice.

  “No, no, not at all.”

  “You went silent there for a moment and I was sure I was coming on too strong.”

  “You aren’t,” I assured him. If anything, I was flattered. That happy feeling was back in the pit of my stomach—the one I’d felt with Paul and ever so briefly with Mark.

  The line went silent and I thought we might have been inadvertently disconnected.

  “Greg? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here. Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Would it be all right if I called you sometime during the week? I mean, I’d understand if you’d rather I didn’t. It’s just that I don’t know if I have the patience to wait an entire week to talk to you again.”

  This man was going to sweep me off my feet with the things he said. “You can call me anytime you like.”

  “I promise I won’t make a pest of myself.”

  “I doubt you would.” Then, because a week did seem like a long time to wait to see him again, I made a suggestion. “Would you like to come to dinner one night this week?”

  “To the inn?”

  “I cook a mean steak.”

  “With you cooking I’d be happy with macaroni and cheese.”

  “I am a good cook.” I’d learned to be one since I took over the inn. And while I did manage to turn out a decent steak, my specialty was breakfast dishes.

  “You tell me the day and time and I’ll move heaven and earth to be there.”

  “Wednesday works. Shall we say six?”

  “That’s perfect for me. See you then.”

  It seemed the conversation was about over, but we ended up talking for nearly an hour, which was sort of amazing after we’d spent a good majority of the day together. When I set the phone aside, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. It would be far too easy to fall for Greg. He was such a great guy and I could already tell he had a big heart.

  At about ten I decided I needed a glass of milk. As happy as I was, I knew I was going to need something to help me fall asleep. Everything was ready for breakfast the following morning, but I wanted to check and make sure one last time.

  Emily sat in the living room reading and glanced up when I entered the kitchen. I knew my guests had retired for the evening. I’d heard them return to the inn.

  “Greg called,” I told her. “Crazy, isn’t it? We talked for almost an hour.”

  “You really like him,” she said, making it a statement rather than a question.

  “I do.” The ironic thing was that I’d assumed it would be impossible to feel this way about another man when I loved Mark. What I needed to remember was that Mark was out of my life. He’d missed all six of the prearranged evacuation meets. I had to accept that it was highly unlikely he’d be coming back. He’d told me not to hold out hope he’d survive. He held little hope himself.

  I hadn’t expected moving forward without him would be seamless. Returning to my room, I leaned down and petted Rover. “He’s gone, you know,” I whispered.

  Rover lifted his head and let me rub his ears.

  “He’s probably not coming back,” I said through the lump in my throat.

  As though he understood, my dog released a low moan as if he, too, had accepted the fact Mark was gone from us forever.

  In the following week, I’d caught sight of Nick twice as he walked around the inn in the wee hours of the morning. He might have come more often, but I’d seen him only the two times. It didn’t matter, though; he was almost constantly in my thoughts. Yes, I was curious about the house, but I was afraid I was beginning to want Nick, and that shook me to the point of insomnia. I’d given up on relationships, and with ample reason. I needed someone to hit me alongside the head. One would think that by now I would have learned my lesson. How many times did I need to get burned before I faced reality? The answer to that was as daunting as the question.

  As for Nick’s late-night visits, I wondered if he was thinking of me, too. The thought made me uncomfortable. It was as if I waited for him in my sleep. For whatever reason, my brain seemed to be tuned in to him and Elvis. Both times I’d woken out of deep dreams to wonder what had woken me. Intuitively, I knew it was Nick. Tossing aside the covers, I went to the balcony and, sure enough, I saw him and Elvis walking around Jo Marie’s prize rose garden. Once I found Nick sitting inside the gazebo, hunched forward as if the weight of the world was bearing down upon his shoulders. My heart ached for him and I felt the strongest urge to join him, comfort him. As difficult as it was, I resisted, knowing he wouldn’t welcome my company.

  As if drawn by an invisible force, Nick glanced over his shoulder and looked up toward my room and saw me on the balcony.

  He stood then, his figure silhouetted in the moonlight, and continued to stare at me. It was too dark for our eyes to meet, which was just as well. For the briefest of moments I was tempted to race outside and wrap him in my arms. Hard as it was, I decided against it.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Nick slowly turned and walked away. Elvis lingered and Nick had to softly call him to his side before the German shepherd would move. Elvis trotted away, came to the edge of the property, and paused, looking back at me before joining his master.

  After Nick was gone, it took me a long time to fall back asleep. When the alarm went off a few hours later, I groaned. Glancing outside, I saw that the sky was overcast and dark, threatening rain. It was the perfect excuse to decide against my morning run. However, I knew if I put it off even once it would make it harder tomorrow and even more so the next day. I’ve run in the rain plenty of times, and I knew better than to make it an excuse to stay in bed.

  As much as I wanted to linger in the warmth of my blankets, I dressed in my running shorts and a long-sleeved top. I tied my hair into a loose ponytail, thrust a cap on my head, and bounced down the stairs. The inn was quiet when I slipped out the door; the only sound was the soft beep of the alarm system.

  By rote I followed my normal path, turning the corner on Bethel Street. My gaze instinctively went to the house and Nick. I almost decided against running through the orchard. But then I saw Elvis and knew he’d been waiting for me. I couldn’t disappoint him.

  My conversation with Jo Marie on Saturday stayed in my mind. She said it was a shame that Nick had given up visiting the inn at night. I hadn’t told her that he’d apparently had a change of heart.

  My thoughts were full of Nick, Elvis, Jo Marie, and Cedar Cove, and apparently I wasn’t paying close enough attention because my foot caught on an exposed tree root and I stumbled. Before I could catch myself I fell forward, landing flat on my face. At first I was too stunned to move. I took a moment to collect myself. I managed to get into a seated position, brushed off the dirt and grit from my hands and knees. I had mud on my face, literally.

  Grumbling under my breath at my own stupidity, I tried to stand. Right away pain shot up my leg and caused me to gasp. I’d managed to twist my ankle. With some effort, I got into a standing position, but I found it impossible to walk. Using the tips of the toes on my injured foot, I took a tentative step forward, cried out at the agony, and immediately crumbled to the ground. So much for limping back to the inn. I couldn’t mo
ve a few inches without excruciating pain.

  I don’t know how long I sat there trying to decide what to do. Normally, I have my cell phone with me, but as luck would have it, I hadn’t brought it this morning. If that wasn’t bad enough, it started to rain in earnest. Within moments I was drenched to the skin.

  Elvis stayed by my side.

  “Hi buddy,” I said, and bit into my lower lip. “I’ve gotten myself into quite a predicament, haven’t I?” Although it hurt like crazy, I managed to scoot so that I was able to lean my back against the thick trunk of an apple tree. It helped to keep the deluge from raining down on me directly, but I still got plenty wet.

  As if he knew how cold I was, Elvis settled down next to me, aligning himself next to my legs. His warmth felt heavenly.

  “I’m going to need help,” I told him. I hated the thought of Nick finding me like this.

  “I think I should try to stand again,” I told Elvis, hoping that if I made it out to the street perhaps someone driving by would stop. It was a risk, but one I was willing to take in order to avoid Nick.

  As soon as I was upright I knew it was a lost cause. My ankle had already swollen, and the pain was bad enough to make me whimper. There was no help for it; I would need to wait for Nick, and heaven only knew how long that would take.

  Using the tree as my support, I scooted back down to the ground, resisting the urge to rant at my own carelessness. If I hadn’t been so tired I would have remembered to unplug my phone from the charging unit. Of all the days to leave it behind. Could I make myself a bigger pest than I already was?

  I don’t know how long I remained sitting by the tree. Long enough to start shivering with the cold. The wind and driving rain were no comfort. My teeth started to chatter. Elvis refused to leave me and I was eternally grateful.

  Then I heard it. Off in the distance.

  “Elvis.”

  Nick calling for his dog.

  Elvis raised his head but didn’t budge.

  “Over here,” I shouted as loud as I could and was shocked at how weak my voice was. “I’m over here,” I tried again.

  “Fine,” I heard Nick call out. “Go ahead and stay out in the rain, if that’s what you want.”

  No, no, he couldn’t leave me. “Help,” I shouted. “Please, Nick, I need you.” Then I realized what I’d said. “I need your help…” I didn’t want to need anyone, especially Nick.

  The echo of the door closing nearly reduced me to tears. Nick had gone back into the house. My only hope now was that Jo Marie would notice I was missing and would come looking for me. Even then that could take hours, especially when she was busy preparing and serving breakfast for her guests.

  The weather in July was moderate. We’d had several warm days in the eighties and nineties, but the rain brought cooler temperatures with it, and the wind added to the chill factor. I felt like I was about to freeze to death. When I’d dressed, I’d assumed all I would need was a long-sleeved shirt. I hadn’t brought along a jacket and deeply regretted that now.

  I knew enough first aid to recognize the symptoms of hypothermia. And I feared it was setting in. Despite the pain in my ankle, I felt the strongest desire to sleep. I struggled against it, but even so my eyes kept drifting shut. I managed to shake myself awake time and again, until the effort seemed too much. Eventually someone would find me. All I had to do was hold on until then. It shouldn’t take much longer, right? I was cold, so cold. My teeth didn’t chatter any longer and it felt as if the frigid air had seeped all the way through me and into my bones.

  I slumped against Elvis, and he let out a howl as if to keep me awake. I prayed Nick, someone, anyone, would hear the dog and come to my rescue. It felt like hours later but was only thirty minutes when I couldn’t stay awake a minute more. I closed my eyes and prayed.

  Nick’s mood was already surly. He’d spent another sleepless night and had been forced to get up when Elvis wanted out. He wasn’t happy about leaving the comfort and warmth of his bed and cursed under his breath. Elvis could be a damned nuisance. If he didn’t want out to do his business, Nick realized then the dog scratched against the door because he wanted to meet Emily.

  Nick had made a determined effort to ignore her, despite the fact she remained ever present on his mind. For the last couple mornings he’d managed to resist watching her. He was convinced she’d seen him staring out the window. Much to his chagrin, she’d also caught sight of him at the inn the night before. He didn’t want to think about her, and still, despite all his resolve, she haunted him day and night.

  The forecasted rain came in a torrent. After the dry summer, the rainstorm was a welcome respite from the long, hot days. The temperatures had dropped into the low sixties, and Nick hoped Emily was smart enough to wear protective gear if she’d chosen to run this morning. Even now, he couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind.

  Stepping outside, Nick called again for Elvis. It wasn’t like the German shepherd to disappear.

  “Elvis,” he shouted, louder this time, standing on the porch steps.

  He heard a sharp bark in the distance. It didn’t sound like Elvis’s normal bark.

  “Elvis,” he called again, and expected him to come running.

  He didn’t. Instead, he howled as though in trouble.

  Cursing under his breath, Nick pulled his hood over his head and started toward the orchard, berating his dog with every step he took. Elvis was going to be the end of him.

  He must have heard him coming because he barked again and again, the sound sharp and insistent, growing louder as he drew closer. When he saw Elvis half lying over Emily, who was slumped unconscious against a tree, Nick took off in a dead run.

  “Emily,” he shouted and fell to his knees before her. His heart pounded frantically. He tapped her face lightly, and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Nick,” she whispered and attempted a smile. “I knew you’d come,” she breathed out. “Thank you.”

  He could see she was drenched through all her clothes. “What happened?” he demanded, shucking off his jacket, jerking it over his head.

  “My ankle.”

  One glance told him it was badly swollen.

  “I’m so cold,” she whispered.

  He slipped his jacket over her head. He wasn’t sure how much good it would do, seeing that she was already soaked to the skin. She didn’t seem capable of moving her arms, so he helped her insert them into the sleeves.

  “Let me help you up,” he said as he tucked his arm around her waist. He got her to a standing position, but it was soon apparent she was in no condition to walk. With no other option, he carried her like a bride through the orchard and into the house.

  “Nick…I’m too heavy, I can walk, I think, if you help me.”

  He ignored her protest. As for her being too heavy, that was laughable. She couldn’t have weighed much more than a couple bags of cement. As soon as he got her into the house, he brought her into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Sitting her down on the toilet, he started to strip off her wet clothes.

  She protested, shaking her head back and forth. “No.”

  “This isn’t a time to be modest,” he insisted, ignoring her struggles. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

  That comment earned him a heated stare. If circumstances had been different, he would have laughed.

  Before she could argue any further, he pulled off her top and threw off his own clothes until they were both in their underwear. Stepping into the shower, he held her upright under the hot spray, letting the heated water chase away the chill. At first she cried out in pain, and then she leaned against him as the warmth seeped through her.

  With her leaning into him, her face pressed against his front, he closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her in his arms. Hardly realizing what he was doing, he rubbed his chin over the top of her head. She clung to him, and little in his life had ever felt more right.

  “Better?” he asked in a husky murmur, altho
ugh the question barely sounded like him.

  She nodded and kept her face buried in his chest.

  For days he’d been working feverishly to get her out of his head and here she was in his arms, clinging to him as if he was all that kept her sane. It was as if God had it out for him and was determined to punish him for a multitude of sins.

  After several moments she looked up, the shower water running over the top of her head, dripping onto her upturned face. “I knew you’d find me. I counted on it,” she whispered with tears in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I took so long,” he said, as he brushed the wet hair away from her face.

  Their gazes held for what seemed like a lifetime. In her he saw doubt mingled with questions, uncertainty, and hesitation. Perhaps what he saw was a reflection of everything he felt in that moment. He had no business getting emotionally involved with anyone when his head was a mess, when his entire life felt like one giant disaster. His brother was dead. Brad had died in his arms and all because he’d been drunk. Too drunk to drive. He should have been the one who was killed. He should be the one buried six feet in dirt and mud. Not Brad. Brad was the good son. The social worker who loved children, the brother who was determined to make a difference in the world, an advocate for change in bettering lives. Nick was the wild child, the college dropout, the one who’d wasted away an entire decade chasing women, partying, being irresponsible and reckless.

  By all that was right he should get as far away from Emily Gaffney as he could before he tainted her with the darkness inside him. Get away from her before he dragged her into that dark pit of despair and bitterness. No one was capable of rescuing him. Not his parents. Not his friends. No one, and least of all Emily.

  That would have been the smart thing, but it wasn’t what he did. Staying away would have been the prudent action, and he’d already proven beyond all doubt he was anything but practical.

  Nick didn’t release her. He didn’t ease her out of the shower or dress her in warm, dry clothes, or tend to her ankle before sending her on her way. Instead, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her as if she were his salvation, as if a single, solitary kiss would wipe out all the pain and self-hatred of the last year since Brad had died.