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Lakeside Family
Lisa Jordan
HIS SECRET DAUGHTER In the space of a minute, Nick Brennan learns he has a nine-year-old daughter—and that she desperately needs his help. All this time, his high school sweetheart, single mother Josie Peretti, thought he knew about their child. And that he just didn’t care. About the ill little girl—or Josie, the woman he’s never forgotten.But Nick made a long-ago promise to never foresake his family the way his father did. A promise he vows to make good on now . . . if only Josie will bless him with a second chance.


His Secret Daughter
In the space of a minute, Nick Brennan learns he has a nine-year-old daughter—and that she desperately needs his help. All this time, his high school sweetheart, single mother Josie Peretti, thought he knew about their child. And that he just didn’t care. About the ill little girl—or Josie, the woman he’s never forgotten. But Nick made a long-ago promise never to forsake his family the way his father did. A promise he vows to make good on now... if only Josie will bless him with a second chance.
“Are you saying I can’t take care of my own daughter, Nick?”
“Our daughter, Josie. You need to remember I’m a part of her life now.”
“You didn’t know she existed until I told you.”
Nick frowned. “She’s still my responsibility. Your stubborn pride is getting in your way.”
“This has nothing to do with pride.” She pushed away from him and stared out the kitchen window. “You had no right to stick your nose in where it didn’t belong.”
“Would you listen to yourself? This has everything to do with pride, Josie. You’re so bent on doing everything for yourself that you won’t let me step in to help. What’s the big deal?”
She gritted her teeth and glared at him. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“No, because you think you have to carry every burden by yourself.” He gentled his voice. “When are you going to look around and see how much people care about you?”
Why couldn’t he understand she couldn’t count on anyone but herself?
LISA JORDAN
has been writing for over a decade, taking a hiatus to earn her degree in early childhood education. By day, she operates an in-home family child-care business. By night, she writes contemporary Christian romances. Being a wife to her real-life hero and mother to two young adult men overflow her cup of blessings. In her spare time, she loves reading, knitting and hanging out with family and friends. Learn more about her at www.lisajordanbooks.com.
Lakeside Family
Lisa Jordan






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
May the God of hope fill you with all joy
and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
—Romans 15:13
For Lilly, my sunshine. You are the light of my blueberry. And the light of my heart. Thank you for teaching us
what special really means. For Lynn and Woody—
when God chose parents for Lilly, He couldn’t have made
a finer match. You are my heroes.
For Your glory, Lord. Without You, none of this is possible.
Acknowledgments
Michelle Lim, brainstorming queen, whom I have the pleasure to call friend and critique partner, thank you for helping me uncover Josie’s story. Your brilliance dazzles me.
Kym Mullins, your sacrificial gift gave someone
another chance at life. You are a blessing, friend.
Thank you for sharing your experience.
Kathy Hurst and Lon Hurst, thank you for the ambulance photos and information about EMTs. Any mistakes are mine.
Dr. Amy Lindberg, thank you for sharing information
about the National Marrow Donor Program.
More than that, I treasure your friendship.
Dr. Ronda Wells, thank you again for your medical wisdom. Any mistakes are my own.
Dr. Reba J. Hoffman and Beth K. Vogt,
thank you for your wisdom and red pens.
Susan May Warren and Rachel Hauck—Josie and Nick survived the Circle of Insecurity. Thanks for your
amazing mentorship and consistent faith in me!
Rachelle Gardner, my wonderful agent, and Melissa Endlich, my wonderful editor, thank you for believing in me and teaming to help share my books with readers.
Thank you to the rest of the Love Inspired team
for your hand in bringing my book to print.
As always, thank you to Patrick, Scott and Mitchell.
Your continued support and encouragement inspire me
to keep writing. I love you forever.
Contents
Chapter One (#u60d3f64c-3c38-5e44-a4ef-8cb85f2d2fe4)
Chapter Two (#u862c09d5-47ca-531e-8f31-7997efa6a13d)
Chapter Three (#u62d8ee53-8ff5-55b9-a80f-284899ac4d73)
Chapter Four (#u81558ef4-97b8-54f6-bd5a-fce8a6c8af3b)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Josie had spent the past ten years trying to forget Nickolas Brennan existed. And now she needed him more than ever.
Hard to believe after all this time he worked less than two hours from where she lived.
She climbed out of her car, slammed the door and pulled her wool coat tighter. Flipping up the collar to ward off the chill slithering down her spine, Josie slid her purse over her shoulder and trudged through the slushy parking lot toward Twain Hall. The aged brick building, which housed the English department, crested a small knoll with a familiarity to the campus as worn leather patches on a tweed blazer.
Freezing rain stung her cheeks as she waited at the corner for a snow plow to lumber past, leaving a trail of salt on the icy blacktop.
She’d give up her family’s secret Italian doughnut recipe to be lying on a tropical beach somewhere. Anywhere. Didn’t matter as long as sun, sand and surf were involved. And she and Hannah could build sand castles that withstood the constant crashes of life’s harsh realities.
Someday.
She hurried across the street and stared at Twain Hall, with its arched stone doorway and faded redbrick exterior. Evergreen shrubs lipped the building. Two stout trees guarded the wide steps, their bare limbs hunching over the sidewalk, bearing winter’s burden.
No going back now.
Passing through the double doors, she paused to wipe her wet feet on the nubby industrial mat. The scent of disinfectant scorched her throat. Varnished wood molding, walls painted the color of aged parchment and gleaming tile floors greeted her. Photos in heavy wooden frames of men and women wearing stern expressions eyed her from the opposite wall as she passed by. Was Nick’s picture among them? She didn’t stop to check.
Upholstered chairs clustered around a circular table dotted with Starbucks cups where a small group of students gathered. Several balanced open laptops while leafing through textbooks and scribbling in notebooks. One guy lounged with his stretched-out legs crossed at the ankles and head back. His snores bounced off the frosted windows.
A woman, who appeared to be a little older than the other students, sat away from them, but watched with a wistful expression on her face. Josie caught her gaze and smiled, totally understanding how it felt to be on the outside of the circle.
While her friends had shopped for homecoming gowns and pedicures, Josie had bought maternity clothes and put together a nursery. Forget about graduation. Too humiliated to return to school, she had begged her father to homeschool her during her senior year. Her diploma came in the mail.
Josie shelved the memory and focused on her reason for being on campus. She followed the signs to the office and nearly choked on the floral perfume that saturated the air.
A young woman with straight salon-highlighted hair and wearing a black-and-silver Linwood Park Knights hoodie stood behind a counter, texting on her cell phone. Seeing Josie, she closed her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her skinny jeans. “May I help you?”
Josie closed her fingers around the scrap of paper with Nick’s office address, gripping it as if it were a lifeline. “I’m, uh, looking for Dr. Brennan.”
“He’s not in.” The girl, probably a work-study student, pulled out her phone as if to say their conversation was over.
Not so fast, honey.
She should’ve called. But she couldn’t risk him refusing to see her. He had to say yes. Had to.
Josie peeled off her turquoise leather gloves and shoved them in her coat pocket. “Do you know when he will be back?”
“He has class on Monday at eight.” She blew a pink bubble and popped it, not even bothering to look up from her texting.
She couldn’t wait until Monday. She needed to talk to him now.
Josie gripped the edge of the counter and fought to keep her voice calm. “Is there a way to reach him?”
“Leave him a voice mail, I guess.”
“I really need to talk to Dr. Brennan.” Josie cringed at the desperation seeping into her voice. She paused a second to regroup. “If I leave my number with you, would you call him and ask him to contact me as quickly as possible?”
“I guess.” Again, she didn’t bother looking up from where her thumbs danced across the keypad.
Josie balled her hands to keep from reaching over the counter and snatching the phone out of the girl’s hands. “You guess? Listen, honey. Talking with Dr. Brennan is about the last thing on my want-to-do list for today, but my daughter’s life depends on it. So, how about if you stow your phone along with your snotty attitude and try to be a little helpful?”
Campus Barbie rolled her eyes. She closed her phone and shoved it into her back pocket. She flashed a toothpaste commercial smile. “How can I help you?”
If she didn’t need to see Nick so badly, she’d tell the girl exactly how she could help. But Hannah depended on her.
Josie pulled out a business card, scribbled her cell phone number on the back and slid it across the counter. “He can reach me at this number—day or night. Please contact him and have him call me as quickly as possible.”
The girl took her card and nodded toward an older woman wearing a navy suit sitting at a computer with a phone cradled on her shoulder. “I’ll give it to Irene. I have to head to class in ten minutes.”
Josie forced a smile of thanks and strode out of the office, her leather boot heels clicking against the tile. She headed for the front door, passing the row of framed staff photos, then paused. Scanning the faces, she searched for Nick’s. Had he changed much in the past decade?
There. Bottom left. Out of all the photos, he was the only one smiling. Glare from the overhead lights reflected off the glass, blocking a good look at his face. She glanced over her shoulders. Seeing no one in the corridor, she stretched on her tiptoes and pulled his picture down.
With one shoulder leaning against the wall, she stared at his face, turning back time to her junior year when he’d meet her at her locker, sling an arm over her shoulder and walk her to class. After classes, they’d hang out in the school newspaper office and work on the Ridgefield Review.
She traced a finger over the glass covering the one-dimensional image of the only man she loved enough to hand over her heart. He returned it in pieces before he left for college, claiming it was for the best.
Yeah, for him.
“I don’t think those are to take.”
A deep voice corded with humor startled her. She hadn’t heard anyone walking behind her. Heat scalded her throat at getting caught staring at her past.
She jerked away from the wall and stretched to hook the frame back on its anchor. The picture caught on the nail. She dropped her hand only to watch the slow-motion descent of the frame smashing to the floor.
“Oh, no!” She crouched and picked up the frame. Cracks webbed from corner to corner, covering his face. A piece of the wood broke off and skittered across the floor. The man trapped it under his polished black loafer.
Josie wanted to pull her coat over her head and scurry out of the building. Unfortunately life taught her that running from her problems solved nothing.
She stood, refusing to make eye contact with the guy until her face no longer resembled the strawberry smoothie she’d sucked down that morning. Gripping the picture, she turned to face him.
And nearly dropped the frame.
The man standing in front of her with hair the color of her finest Columbian roast and chocolate-drop eyes
crinkling around the edges like her homemade snickerdoodles mirrored the image pressed under the cracked glass. And that smile. It could melt the frosting off her homemade éclairs. For a second, the warmth in his eyes made her feel safe.
Instead of a black-and-white Ridgefield Panthers letterman jacket and jeans, he wore a black suit, white dress shirt and blue-and-green diamond-patterned tie. The lanky boy she had fallen in love with over ten years ago had matured into a man who had the potential to break her heart all over again.
“Nick.” His name came out as a gasp. Her heart raced.
“Yes, but most of my students call me Dr. Brennan.” He took the frame from her hands and shook his head. “It’s official. I’ve cracked.”
Didn’t Campus Barbie say he was out?
“I’m, ah, not one of your students.” She swallowed back the rest of her words. She couldn’t blurt out her reason for coming. Not here in the middle of the hall. She pulled out her gloves and slowly slipped them on, hoping to warm her suddenly chilled fingers.
“Oh, sorry. I just assumed you were a student. Do you make it a habit of removing pictures from walls?”
Was he laughing at her?
“What? No. I just...” What could she say? She wanted a better look at the man who broke her heart? A better look at the man she desperately needed to save her daughter’s life?
He glanced at his watch then the door, as if he had to be someplace. “I was just kidding. I’ll take this back to my office and get it fixed. I need to head out to an appointment. Watch out for falling photographs.” He walked backward a few steps, sent her another one of those dazzling smiles, then rotated on his heel to head back to his office.
“Wait.” She hurried to catch up with him, trying not to let the fact that he didn’t recognize her weigh down her heart.
Nick stopped and turned. His eyes swept over her. He stiffened. She saw the second recognition lit the lightbulb inside his head. A slow smile spread across his face. “Josie Peretti.”
Her stomach shimmied. Only Nick could make her name flow like melted caramel.
“You look amazing.”
“Thanks. Listen—”
“I’d love to stay and catch up, but I really must run. I’m late for an appointment.”
She fished through her purse for another business card, took ten precious seconds to scrawl her cell phone number on the back and thrust it at him. “Please call me after your appointment. It’s important. Please.”
Nick glanced at the card, then tucked it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “Okay. I’ll do that.”
Josie’s shoulders sagged as he disappeared into his office. Would he follow through? The Nick she knew once upon a time was always true to his word. She had no idea who he had become.
But it had to be enough.
Okay, God, you opened the door. Please push him through. For Hannah.
Heart thrumming, she hurried back to her car and unlocked it with the remote. As soon as it chirped, she wrenched the door open, hurled herself behind the wheel and slammed the door. She drew in several deep breaths.
If it weren’t for Hannah, she’d walk away and not look back. But it didn’t matter what skeletons the past held, she needed to dig them up to save her daughter’s life.
* * *
Her phone rang constantly when she barely had time to breathe, but when she wanted...hoped for a call, it remained silent.
With her back pressed against the stainless-steel counter, Josie pulled her phone out of her pocket, checking for the hundredth time to see if the ringer was turned up, or if a call had come in but she’d missed it.
Volume was fine.
No calls.
Focus on something else.
She sighed, shoved the phone into her pocket and pulled on two pink pig-shaped oven mitts before reaching into the oven for the browned blueberry muffins. She set the pan on top of the stove next to a cooling apple pie. Sweet sugar scents danced with the spicy cinnamon. Reaching for the baking sheet lined with rows of scooped chocolate chip cookie dough, she slid it in the oven, closed the door and set the timer.
Agnes Levine, her assistant manager, breezed through the swinging kitchen door, leaving a fragrant trail of perfume behind her. With mugs dangling from her ringed fingers, she balanced a stack of plates and set them in the dishpan next to the sink. “Dining room’s cleared, Sugar Pie.”
“Thanks, Agnes.”
Agnes pulled the apron over her head and hung it on the hook by the industrial-size stainless side-by-side refrigerator. “No call yet?”
“Not yet. Guess I’ll have to call the department on Monday. I can’t afford to drive all the way out there again.” Josie filled the deep sink with soapy water and added a splash of bleach.
“You think Sorority Sally passed on the message?”
Josie’s lips twitched at Agnes’s nickname for the student in Nick’s office. “Campus Barbie? I hope so. We’re running out of time.”
“How’s Hannah doing?”
“Same. Tired, but still keeps smiling.” Josie pulled on a pair of yellow gloves and stuck her hand in one of the glass mugs. She stared out the window at the smudged sky of mauve hues blended with lavender and gray. The same colors as Hannah’s bruises.
Agnes leaned a hip against the sink and cupped Josie’s cheek. “How’s her mama doing?”
Josie’s eyes drifted to the suds in the sink, watching bubbles rise to the surface of the dishwater and pop. Kind of like her dreams. “Praying for a miracle that seems out of reach.”
“Where’s your faith, girl?”
“I think it’s stored in a shoebox in my closet or some other place where I’d need a step stool to reach it.” She attempted a smile, but the muscles in her cheeks refused to cooperate.
Agnes wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “See, that’s the great thing about faith—the more you need, the bigger it grows. That little ole mustard seed turns into a mighty tree. Takes some watering, though.”
Did tears count?
Josie closed her eyes. Her daughter’s face with the dark circles and blotchy cheeks swam behind her eyelids. God, you work miracles. Please give one to Hannah.
Agnes rinsed the rest of the dishes and stacked them to dry. “You need to get out of here and go home to that sweet child.”
“I have a few more things to do. You go ahead. I can finish up here.”
The timer dinged.
Agnes reached for the oven mitts. “I’ll take care of these. You do what you gotta do, so we can both get out of here.”
As Agnes removed the batch of cookies from the oven and transferred them to the cooling rack, Josie headed into the dining room to close out the register.
Her shoulders sagged as she stuffed the receipts and cash into the bank bag and tried not to let today’s lack of customers discourage her. All businesses had slow days, right? She blamed it on the weather. Or at least she hoped that was it. She couldn’t afford to close her doors like other small businesses in the area had done in recent months. She needed the insurance for Hannah’s medical bills.
Shadows of the flames from the electric fireplace crawled up the ice-blue walls and reflected off the framed prints of European cafes. She flipped the switch. The flames flickered, then died out.
“Sugar Pie, I’m outta here.” Agnes wrapped a designer scarf around her cinnamon-colored curls like an old Hollywood movie star. Long and leggy, the transplanted Texan had a heart the size of Dallas.
“Thanks for covering for me today, Agnes.”
“Anytime. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” She winked, blew Josie a kiss and then headed out the front door.
Rusted Christmas bells hanging from a tattered ribbon—drooping with age and faded from sunlight—jangled against the glass as Agnes pulled the door closed behind her. Leftover from the previous owners of the old Baker’s Hardware. Josie considered replacing them with shiny, polished bells when she redid the place. But they added charm, character. They reminded Josie of what used to be.
Things were different now. A fresh start. New paint covered the scars, the imperfections.
The trendy coffee shop on the corner. A new beginning.
Her blends and fresh baked pastries whetted appetites more than a block away. Pride or ego didn’t tell her that. Her bank balance suggested, for once in her life, Josie had made a right choice. Business would pick back up again. It had to.
She’d give it all up, every drop and crumb, to have her daughter healthy again.
Bells from the old stone church down the street rang out the seventh hour, each note reminding Josie she needed to get moving. Hannah needed her.
The bells above the front door rattled again, startling Josie from her thoughts. A quick glance at the clock showed she was five minutes late in closing and had forgotten to turn the sign.
A man stepped through the door, closing it behind him. Dressed in a brown bomber jacket, cream cable-knit sweater and khaki cargo pants, he looked as if he had stepped from the pages of an Eddie Bauer catalog. The only thing missing was a pair of Ray-Ban aviators.
“I’m sorry, but I’m just about to close.” Josie headed for the door to flip the sign to CLOSED, but when the man turned and smiled, her footsteps stalled. “Nick. You c-came.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Hope you don’t mind a visit instead of a phone call. I have to admit seeing you at the university surprised me. It’s been a long time.”
She nodded, wishing her voice wasn’t clogged in her throat like a spoonful of peanut butter.
His long legs ate up the distance between them in a few strides. He reached for her hands, held her at arm’s length and gave her a once-over. “Wow, you look incredible.” He glanced around. “Owning a coffeehouse agrees with you. Decided against being a travel journalist, huh? Dreams can change.”
She pulled her hands away and clasped them behind her back. She couldn’t afford to let his charm soften her heart. She had a responsibility to Hannah. “Motherhood has a way of doing that.”
“You have a child? You and your husband must be very blessed. Congratulations.”
She jerked back as if she had been slapped. “Congratulations? Seriously?”
“Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry. I just assumed...”
He rubbed his earlobe and stared over her shoulder.
“You’re acting like you have no clue.” She moved to the nearest table, straightening the chairs and centering the votive candles.
Nick gripped the back of one of the chairs. “Should I have known? I haven’t been back to Ridgefield since graduation. How long ago did you leave?”
“Couldn’t shake the dust from your boots fast enough, could you?” She snatched a Family Circle magazine off the couch and dropped it in the large wicker basket next to the fireplace.
Nick leveled her with a direct look. “What’s going on here, Josie? Let’s try again. It is good to see you.”
“Is it?” She glared at him, then headed behind the counter for a cloth and bottle of sanitizer.
Nick released the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What did I do to make you so angry?”
Josie spritzed sanitizer on the table. “You didn’t call, Nick. Not once. Not even when...not even when she was born. You weren’t there.” She scrubbed at the coffee ring embossed on the table, then threw down the rag. No use. The scar remained.
“But we had broken up.” He took a step toward her. “What did you expect?”
Josie held up a hand, and he stopped. “I expected you to be responsible.”
He held up his hands, palms to the ceiling. “Responsible for what? I’m so lost a GPS couldn’t bring me back to the starting point.”
She dropped onto the couch in front of the fireplace and massaged her forehead. “I needed you.”
Nick rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Just tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Two years ago, my daughter, Hannah, was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia.”
Nick sat on the matching chair across from her. “I’m so sorry.”
“She went into remission, but the leukemia has come back. Now her doctor is recommending a bone marrow transplant. I’ve been tested, but I’m not a match. Testing her other parent is the most logical choice right now.”
He shot her a puzzled look. “What does that have to do with me?”
Josie jumped to her feet and planted her fists on her hips. “Are you seriously this clueless, Professor? Choosing not to be a part of your daughter’s life doesn’t disqualify you from being her father.”
Chapter Two
“Her what?” His words tripped their way up his throat. His heart hammered against his rib cage. “Did you just say I’m a...father?”
She had to be joking. One look at her crossed arms and jutted chin showed she told the truth. He stood and moved away from her, needing a little distance. Grabbing on to the mantel, he stared at the black pit where logs lay cold. Fake. Not real. Imitation. Just like him.
“My daughter is nine years old, Nick. She’ll be ten in April. You’re the one with the fancy degrees. Figure it out.”
This could not be happening. There had to be some mistake. Wouldn’t he have known? Or at least been told? He faced her again. “How do you know she’s mine?”
“Because you’re the only person I’ve been with. That night after my nonna’s funeral when we...” She looked away, her words trailing off. A strand of hair slipped out of her clip and curled against her cheek.
A tucked away memory filtered through his head. After her grandmother’s funeral, he had taken her for a drive down by the lake. He held her while she cried and kissed away her tears. He had known better, but in the heat of the moment, common sense fell away as quickly as their clothes. Regret coated his throat.
And now they had a child.
Pink tinged her cheeks. “I got pregnant. Hannah is your daughter, too.”
“So you decided to wait until you needed something to tell me?”
Her head snapped up, her brown eyes the size of teacups. “Excuse me? Don’t you dare act like this is news.”
“How am I supposed to act? I’m hearing about this child for the first time.” His words, laced with self-loathing, burned his tongue.
She jumped to her feet, nearly tripping over the coffee table, and poked him in the chest. “I called your mother and begged for your address, but she said it was best that I didn’t hold you back.”
A chill washed over him. He grabbed her wrist. “Wait a second. My mom knew you were pregnant?”
She pulled her hand free and backed away from him. “Of course she did. When she refused to give me your address, she said she’d relay the message and let you decide. Actions really do speak louder than words, don’t they?”
“She never told me.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. Mom, what have you done?
“Yeah, right.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t wait to leave Ridgefield for your big shot college and put everything behind you, including me. Now you’re blaming your mom for your lack of decency. I expected more from you, Nick. Funny how expectations end up being disappointments, too.”
Nick fisted his hands to keep from shaking her. Did she seriously think he’d have walked out on her if he had known? Especially what she knew about his childhood? “I swear I didn’t know.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth.”
Josie’s shoulders sagged. She dropped on the couch, cradling her head in her hands. “Why wouldn’t she tell you?”
Nick sighed and jammed his hands in his pockets. “I have no idea.”
She pointed to the cordless phone on the counter. “Give her a call now and ask.”
“I can’t.” Guilt gripped his vocal cords and twisted. He massaged his throat. Eight years. Still not long enough to forgive himself for destroying his family. “She’s dead.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry. What happened? Wait. That’s none of my business.”
“Car accident.” He didn’t mention he was the one driving. He pushed ghosts of that night out of his thoughts and focused on the petite Italian beauty in front of him.
“So it’s you and your brother now? Ross, right? How’s he?”
“Yes, Ross. He’s...fine.” And he was. For the most part. He couldn’t tell her about Ross. Not yet.
“I—I thought you knew about Hannah. I’m sorry this is such a shock.” She reached up and touched his arm. “But she’s your daughter, and she needs your help, Nick.”
The pleading in her eyes cut him to the core. In the past ten minutes, his world had been turned upside down. He needed a minute to collect his thoughts.
Turning away, he swept his gaze over a rough-hewn bookcase decorated with ivy and tiny white lights. A stack of books lay on their sides next to a trio of chunky candlesticks in the corner. Cans of tea for sale lined the middle shelf. One of the labels on the tea can boasted an unforgettable experience. He didn’t need to drink tea to have that. It had been handed to him the moment he walked through the door.
He remembered another door, a lifetime ago. The one his father walked out of when Nick was in first grade, leaving him with a sobbing mother and a screaming baby brother. Seeing his father throw that duffel bag in the back of the rusted pickup and barrel down the street had Nick racing after him, screaming his name and crying. He hadn’t seen his dad since. He promised his mother and brother he’d never abandon his family.
But he had done just that to his daughter. He was no better than his father. A pain knifed his gut, threatening to drag the breath right out of him. He pressed a fist against his sternum.
“And then what, Josie?” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.
“What do you mean?” She sounded halfway across the room.
He turned and stared, drinking in the dark, loose curls escaping her clip and framing her face, the way her blue shirt and brown pants clung to her soft curves. With the dimmed overhead lighting casting shadows on her, she appeared no more than seventeen. The same age as when he got her pregnant. “What happens after I get tested?”
“Well, we wait to see if you’re a match.” She tugged on the hem of her shirt.
He took a step toward her. “No, I mean with Hannah and me. With you and me.”
Her eyes flashed. “There is no you and me. You burned that bridge a long time ago.”
He’d thought it was the best thing for them. Even after he started his freshman year, he’d thought of her often, had been so tempted to pick up the phone just to hear her voice, but he resisted. He’d had no right to lead her on.
Maybe that was why she hadn’t tried a little harder to contact him. He glanced at her hand. No wedding ring. That didn’t mean she wasn’t in a relationship now. “There will always be a you and me. Now that I know about Hannah, I want to be a part of her life.”
She shot him a “you’ve got to be kidding” look. “You don’t even know her.”
“Not by choice. Now that I have a chance, I’m not going to walk away.” He was not going to be his father. He had to prove to Josie—somehow, some way—that he was in this for the long haul.
“I will not let you hurt her. She’s been through so much already.” Her voice shook. Her fingers trembled as she reached up and released the clip from her hair. It cascaded down her back like a waterfall.
“I promise you—I will never hurt her. I can put her on my insurance.” He waved a hand toward the front of the store. “This is a great little place, but I can help you financially.”
Josie’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask for your money. I want only one thing—a blood test. Hannah’s life depends on you.”
He couldn’t change the past, but he could make up for it. Starting now. She didn’t have to do things alone again. He was here to help. If only he could get her to see that.
How could he prove he was committed to their daughter? His heart stuttered as a sudden thought crossed his mind. No, he couldn’t. It was crazy. Before common sense could engage, he opened his mouth. “Marry me.”
* * *
If he had suddenly sprouted a horn from the middle of his forehead, Josie wouldn’t have been more shocked. She stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He stepped closer.
“No. No, I don’t think I did.” She swallowed and tried not to inhale the richness of his cologne. His closeness stirred feelings she’d stuffed away a long time ago. Feelings that got her into trouble.
“Josie—”
“Are you insane?” She stepped back, needing distance. “I asked you for a blood test, you idiot. Not for a marriage proposal. You’re crazy.”
He raised an eyebrow and leaned against a table, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” She threw her hands in the air and muttered something in Italian that would’ve gotten her in trouble as a child. “Who in their right mind marries a guy off the street?”
“I’m not exactly a stranger.”
She whirled around and searched his face for a hint of common sense. “To Hannah, you are. I haven’t seen you in over ten years. I have no idea who you are anymore. A little girl’s life is at stake here, and you’re playing games.” Funny how the Nick she knew back then was completely different than the man standing in front of her.
He watched her without saying a word. His jaw clenched. He was serious.
What a mess this was becoming. “Nick—”
Nick pushed away from the table and shoved his hands in his front pockets. “I missed out on nine years of my daughter’s life. I’m not going to have some test done, give her another piece of me and disappear for the rest of her life. I have a responsibility now. I won’t abandon my family.”
“Your family? Where were you when she was teething? Where were you on the first day of kindergarten? Where were you when she spent the night throwing up after her first chemo treatment? We quit being yours the day Hannah was born, and you didn’t show up.”
“Not. My. Fault.” His voice rose. “Maybe if you had faced me yourself, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
He blamed her? “I was seventeen, living at home, without a high school diploma, much less a job. You expected me to chase you across two states in the off chance you just might want to play house? I don’t think so.” Her chest heaved.
She grabbed the back of the couch and dug her fingers into the fabric. She drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly before facing him again. Feeling a tiny bit calmer, she turned back to him. “When you didn’t show up after I called your mother, I wrote you out of our lives. But now I’ll do whatever it takes to save Hannah’s life. Even if it means dealing with you again.”
Nick closed the distance between them in two strides and placed both hands on her shoulders. “If I had known about Hannah from day one, I would have been there. I would have given it all up to raise her with you.” Nick’s gaze pierced her soul. “That option was taken from me. I can’t make up the past, but I will be a part of her life—with or without your consent.”
Josie’s heart raced. Was he threatening her? She pulled his hands off her shoulders, squeezed his fingers and softened her tone. “Look, I respect your wanting to be a part of her life, but that doesn’t mean we have to get married. Come on, Nick, get real. Who does that? Besides, how could I marry someone I can’t even be sure is going to stick around?” She had plenty of experience with people claiming to love her and then leaving.
“When can I see her?”
What if she didn’t let him see her? Would he refuse to get tested? She couldn’t risk it. Josie let go of his hands and glanced at the large clock above the fireplace. She was so late. Would Hannah still be awake? How would she even begin to explain Nick to her? Maybe the best way would be to have Hannah meet Nick, explain why he was there and then let the two of them get to know each other with her nearby. “Let me lock up, and we can head to my house now.”
“She’s home alone?”
The accusation in his voice scored a direct hit. Did he think she was that irresponsible?
“No, Nonno—my grandfather—lives with us. Usually I only work until noon, but worked this afternoon to catch up from being away this morning.”
“Does she know about me?” The uncertainty in his voice nearly melted her anger.
She sighed and then shook her head. “Not really. I mean, I haven’t kept you a huge secret or anything, but she knows you as an ex-high school boyfriend. She’s seen yearbook pictures. That’s about it.”
“And my mom never contacted you?”
“Not once.”
“I’m sorry.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Sorry can’t erase the last ten years.”
“Regardless of what you think of me, if I had known, I wouldn’t have just left you to face everything alone.”
“Well, we can’t exactly turn back time, can we? So I guess we’ll never know. You have a choice now. Just don’t screw it up.”
Josie flicked off the dining room lights, leaving on a row above the front counter edged against the large storefront window. “I’m going through the kitchen and out the back door. I’ll meet you out front and then you can follow me home.”
“Fine.”
As soon as he headed outside, Josie flipped the deadbolt into place, hurried through the kitchen, grabbed her purse off her desk and snatched her coat off the chair. She slammed through the back door.
Her fingers shook so badly that she dropped her keys in the snow slumped against the back of the building. She fished them out with bare fingers and leaned against the door, staring at the night sky as she pulled in large gulps of frosty air. She locked the door and trudged through the snow to her car.
Five minutes later, Josie pulled onto Songbird Lane and into her driveway with Nick’s headlights in her rearview mirror.
“You can do this. For Hannah.” Taking a deep breath, she clenched the steering wheel. With a final sigh, she grabbed her purse off the passenger seat and climbed out, slamming the door behind her.
Nick’s shoulders hunched close to his ears as he blew into his bare hands. “Feels like January instead of March.”
They were going to discuss the weather? Seriously?
His eyes shifted to her house, his lips turning upward. “It’s something out of a Disney movie.”
Shrubs of various shapes and sizes clustered against the front and around the sides of the stone cottage. Brittle limbs sighed over a chipped picket fence as if they carried the weight of winter. Cleared cobblestones meandered in a haphazard path to the red front door.
“Wait until you see the fairy door knocker. Hannah fell in love with it when we moved here.” Maybe small talk would help her forget about the pain eroding her heart. Doubtful.
“When was that?”
“Once I graduated from college—about five years ago or so.” Josie shoved her hands in her pockets and started up the walk. “She was in her Disney princesses phase.”
She opened the door, stepped inside then moved out of the way so he could enter. A small candlestick lamp on the semicircle foyer table by the front door lit the entryway. Shadows stretched across the wood floor that led into the living room. Josie dropped her purse on the table, shrugged off her coat and hung it in an open closet. She didn’t offer to take Nick’s. He wouldn’t be staying long.
She stepped into the bathroom around the corner from the front door and washed her hands. Returning to the hall, she nodded toward the bathroom. “Please wash your hands. We have to be really careful about germs.”
Without saying a word, Nick moved past her and did as she asked. She marched into the large living room without checking to see if he followed.
She passed by the taupe leather couch with its aqua-and-chocolate pillows and crocheted afghan and crossed to the matching recliner to kiss her grandfather’s cheek. He rested with his eyes closed and a suspense novel open on his chest. The soft glow of the tall candlestick lamp behind his chair bathed his face, filling in the lines and wrinkles of life’s experiences. “Nonno, I’m home.”
Her grandfather started, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Cara, mi avete spaventato. You startled me.” His eyes shifted over her shoulder.
“So sorry. I have a guest.” She waved her hand toward Nick.
“A guest, you say.” Her grandfather lowered his footrest and eased himself out of the chair. He straightened his brown knitted vest over his blue plaid shirt.
Josie placed a hand on her grandfather’s shoulder. “Nonno, meet Nick Brennan.”
“Nick, this is my nonno, I mean my grandfather, Vincenzo Peretti.”
“A pleasure, sir.” Nick extended a hand.
“Nick.” Nonno’s voice trailed off and his lips thinned as his eyes narrowed. “Are you...?” He shot a look at Josie.
She nodded, biting the inside of her lip. “Yes, he’s Hannah’s father.”
Nonno pulled his shoulders back, stepped toward Nick and pointed a finger at him. “You have some nerve. What kind of man puts an innocent girl in a family way and then disappears?”
Josie placed a hand on his chest. “Nonno, not now.”
Nick held up a hand. “Sir, you have every right to be angry. I’m sure I would be, too, in your place. In my defense, I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know? Didn’t know? Why, that’s preposterous. I remember—”
“Nonno, we’ll talk later.” She linked her arm through his and pressed a kiss to his temple.
Nonno glared at Nick. Josie had to give him credit for not backing down. Her grandfather was the first to break eye contact. Muttering in Italian, he returned to his recliner and picked up his book, pretending to read.
Josie removed the novel from his hands, turned it right side up and smiled. “Ti amo.”
“Ti amo, cara.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Where’s Hannah?”
“She’s asleep. I checked on her about half an hour ago.”
“Grazie.”
Josie motioned for Nick to follow her and headed up the stairs separating the living room from the dining room. Putting her finger to her lips, Josie pushed her daughter’s bedroom door open and tiptoed to Hannah’s bed where she lay curled in a ball, one arm clutching Duck, her stuffed purple alligator that had seen better days.
Josie looked over her shoulder to where Nick stood rooted to the threshold. His eyes didn’t waver from the bed. His brows furrowed and then a look she couldn’t interpret crossed over his face.
“What’s wrong?” Josie’s heart fluttered. He was probably
in shock about Hannah’s baldness.
“She’s beautiful.”
Chapter Three
After Nick left, Josie managed to fall asleep for about three hours before her alarm should have gone off. Except she had forgotten to set her alarm.
Josie arrived at Cuppa Josie’s late and found the back door frozen shut again. She and Hannah traipsed around to the front door.
The wind whipped the beige-and-blue-striped canopy over the smoky glass door with the steaming cup etched in white.
Josie balanced a box of tulips in order to jiggle the key in the ancient front door lock, making a mental note to salt the sidewalk.
Hannah’s narrow shoulders hunched against the blustery weather. “Hurry up, Mom. It’s so cold.”
“Really? And here I was taking my time so I could work on my tan.” Josie closed her eyes, flung out her free arm and raised her face to the sky.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” The biting air rouged Hannah’s cheeks and the tip of her upturned nose, adding a blush of color to her skin.
“Hold these, please.” Josie handed the box of tulips to Hannah, tugged her daughter’s hat down over her forehead and then rewrapped the purple-and-white-striped scarf around her neck.
“Need a hand?”
She turned to see Nick shutting the door to a shiny black Ford Ranger and stepping onto the sidewalk.
What was he doing here? They weren’t supposed to meet until later. She hadn’t talked to Hannah yet.
She gave him a tight smile and moved Hannah in front of her. “Thanks, but I got it.”
Come on, Lord, cut a girl a break here.
The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. Was he still there? Watching them? She snuck a peek over her shoulder.
Blowing into cupped hands, he stood about four feet behind them, eyes focused on them.
Did he have to watch her every move?
The key turned. Josie’s exhaled breath puffed against the glass as she opened the door.
Josie guided Hannah inside and pushed the door closed, but Nick shot forward and grabbed the handle. “Is it too early to come in?”
Josie darted a look between Hannah and him. Hannah gave her a curious look.
“If it makes you uncomfortable, I can wait in my truck.” He thrust a thumb over his shoulder toward the street. He took a step back.
She paused. “No, don’t do that. Come in. I’ll have the coffee going in a few minutes.” She flicked on the interior light and flipped the CLOSED sign to OPEN.
She handed him the Shelby Lake Gazette and gestured toward the high-backed stools hugging the counter. “Grab a chair. Coffee will be ready shortly.”
With no time for introductions, she and Hannah wove their way around the square tables, shed their coats in her office and then washed their hands. Hannah traded her winter hat for a pink checked newsboy cap and tugged it sideways on her head. She pulled her iPod and a book from her backpack. Grabbing a banana out of the hanging basket near the sink, she perched on a stool next to the stainless-steel counter where Josie rolled out her piecrusts.
Within minutes of starting the coffee, the mingling scents of the different blends breathed life into Josie and flowed through her as necessarily as her own blood. Even though she couldn’t drink coffee, she craved the smell.
The front door jangled.
Oh, no. Not yet. She wasn’t ready for customers—the coffee hadn’t finished brewing. The pastry case wore empty shelves. The candles hadn’t been lit. The fireplace lay cold.
Why, oh, why hadn’t she set her cell phone to go off, too?
Agnes pushed through the swinging kitchen door. “Sugar Pie, so sorry I’m late. I had no electricity and had to go to Mama’s to dry my hair.” She hung up her coat and fluffed snowflakes off her curls. “Back door stuck again? I nearly slid on my tush coming around to the front.”
Josie pointed to Agnes’s feet. “Wear something a little more sensible than those stiletto boots.”
Agnes struck a model pose. “But they make my legs look long and lean. Never know when Mr. Right is going to come along.”
“Didn’t you get your fill of marriage after your ex left you for that perky pop star wannabe?” Josie twisted her hair and clipped it in a messy updo, pulling down a few loose curls to frame her face.
Agnes made a face. “What’s up with Mr. Yummy at the counter out there? Picking up strays again?”
Josie glanced at Hannah and gave Agnes a slight shake of her head.
Agnes’s eyebrows notched into a V and then her eyes widened as her mouth puckered into an O.
Josie nodded, appreciating her friend’s understanding. “At least we baked last night. Mind filling the pastry case while I get the store ready?”
“Not at all.” Agnes changed her boots into more sensible shoes, then washed and dried her hands. She dropped a kiss on Hannah’s temple, leaving behind a lipstick imprint. “How are you, darlin’?”
Hannah smiled and fingered one of Agnes’s large gold hoops. “Hey, Aggie. Love your earrings. Someday I’ll be allowed to get my ears pierced.”
Josie pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and sagged against the counter. “Oh, the perils of being a kid.”
Hannah shot her a look that said she was not amused. Josie shrugged and bit the inside of her lip.
“Sugar Pie, you have the rest of your life to play grown-up. Don’t you be rushing anything now. You hear me?” Agnes grabbed two blue aprons and tossed one to Josie. “And don’t be giving your mama a big to-do about it. She’s doing right by making you wait.”
“Seriously, I just don’t see what the big deal is about getting my ears pierced.”
Josie tied the apron around her waist and smoothed the front. “The big deal is we agreed you could get them done when you turn ten. Keep griping about it and I’ll make you wait until you’re sixteen.”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” Josie raised an eyebrow at her daughter.
“So not fair. Especially for a sick kid.” Hannah returned to her book.
Josie tugged on one of the earbuds to snag her daughter’s attention. “Don’t play that card with me, kiddo. I mean it.”
“Sorry.” Hannah leaned against Josie.
Josie swallowed the apple-size lump in her throat. Her eyes connected with Agnes’s, which seemed overly bright.
Less than ten minutes later, Josie carried full pots of today’s special blends—Almond Toffee Crunch and Hazelnut Cream—and placed them on the coffee bar to the left of the register. She turned to head back into the kitchen for the regular and decaf, but paused and cocked her head.
What was that scraping sound?
She threaded her way around the tables to the front window. Outside the shop, Nick had cleared the ice. And now he tossed handfuls of ice melter on the sidewalk.
With trying to get the shop ready, she had forgotten about the sidewalks. Something deep shimmied to the surface, filling her with warmth at his thoughtfulness.
As a teenager, he had always been willing to lend a hand.
He looked up and lifted his hand in greeting.
He still had a really great smile. Not that she paid attention to him specifically or anything. Working with the public, a girl noticed these things.
She turned away, and nearly tripped over a chair. A quick peek over her shoulder showed he had indeed seen her klutzy move. His grin sent heat across her cheeks.
Way to go, Josie.
A few minutes later, the door opened. Nick returned the bucket of ice melter and shovel behind the front door where he had found them.
Josie plated a chocolate chip muffin and warmed it in the microwave. She grabbed a stout-bellied glass mug off the shelf behind the register and then carried them to the front counter where Nick had shrugged out of his bomber jacket. Water droplets dampened his hair. The tips of his ears were reddened from the cold. Dressed in a light blue T-shirt, an unbuttoned blue-and-white-striped dress shirt, loose fitting jeans and a pair of beat-up Converses on his feet, he looked more like a college student than a professor.
She set the mug on the counter and pointed to the coffee bar, hating the way her fingers trembled. She clenched them into fists, hoping he didn’t notice. “Help yourself to coffee. Today’s specials are Almond Toffee Crunch and Hazelnut Cream.”
“Thanks.” He smiled and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.
Josie shook her head. “On the house. You didn’t need to clean my walk.”
He turned sideways, resting one elbow on the back of the chair and another on the spread newspaper. “Your friend almost slipped. And you were busy.”
“I would’ve gotten to it.” She winced at the defensive tone in her voice.
He held up a hand. “Hey, that wasn’t a criticism.”
“Sorry. Thanks.” She shut her mouth before finishing off a course of foot-in-mouth. She moved to the fireplace and flipped the switch. Flames came to life and tangoed across the fake logs. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend to hear crackles and smell burning pine.
Nick slid off the stool and wrapped long fingers around the mug. “Wasn’t a problem. Really.”
For him, maybe. He wasn’t the irresponsible one who couldn’t even get out of bed on time.
“Do you have time for coffee? To talk?”
She glanced at the clock. “Not now. Besides, I don’t drink coffee.”
He headed to the coffee bar and filled his mug. “What kind of barista owns a coffeehouse, but doesn’t drink coffee?”
She dashed behind the counter and grabbed the candle lighter. “The kind who’s allergic to caffeine.”
“Then why a coffeehouse?”
“Coffee and food bring people together.” She lit the votive candles nestled in a bed of coffee beans on each table.
He nodded toward the word wall next to the fireplace. “What’s this? Saw it when I came in.”
She shrugged. Would he think she was silly? Did she care? “A community word wall. Each month I put up miscellaneous words and challenge customers to create something unique. At the end of the month, they’re voted on and the winner receives a free drink.”
“Great way to inspire people to write.”
Spoken like a true English professor.
Nick moved past her to get his coffee.
She stuck the candle lighter in her front pocket and grabbed the box of tulips still on the edge of the counter. She replaced the red-and-pink Valentine arrangements on the window counter and near the cash register with the potted tulips.
The front door jangled. Two women and a man in business attire entered, brushing snowflakes off the shoulders of their overcoats. Within minutes, a steady stream of customers filed through the café, keeping her busy behind the counter. The whirring of the espresso machine competed with the rustling of the morning newspapers, cell phone ring tones and chatter.
Emmett Browne, one of her loyal customers and true genius with a camera, banged on the counter with his hand-carved cane. “Josie, where’s the paper? I come in here every morning, sit in the same spot to do the morning crossword, and today of all days, you open late and the paper is missing. What is this world coming to?” His salt-and-pepper eyebrows knitted together. His sausage fingers gripped the curve of his cane. Tufts of white hair sprouted beneath his tweed fedora.
Josie smiled and turned to reach for a glass mug. She set it on the counter in front of him. “Good morning to you, too, Emmett. The usual?”
“Don’t I always have the usual? Did you forget already? What’s so hard about a black coffee and a banana nut muffin? And don’t slip me any of that bran malarkey. I can tell the difference, you know.” He pulled out two dollar bills and a handful of change. He laid the bills on the counter and counted out sixty-eight cents and then tossed two quarters in the tip jar.
“Of course not. One of the other customers is reading the paper. As soon as he’s finished, you can do your crossword.”
He glowered at her. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? What kind of establishment gives out one paper?”
“Try being patient. Would you like me to go buy you another paper?” She pointed to the yellow paper box outside her shop.
“Harrumph. Now, that would be a waste of money, wouldn’t it?” He hobbled over to one of the armchairs near the fireplace and eased his body onto the cushion. Dropping his hat on the side table, he laid his cane on the floor and glared at Nick.
Agnes opened the small fridge under the espresso machine for the milk. “Why do you put up with that codger’s attitude?”
“He’s lonely and all bark but no bite. If griping at me makes him happy, I can turn the other cheek. Today’s a rough day for him.” Josie warmed a banana nut muffin and slipped a blueberry one into a small paper bag. She carried both to Emmett, who sat tapping his pen against the arm of the chair.
“Here’s your muffin. And a little something for later.” She handed him the white bag.
He eyed the bag. “What is it?”
“A blueberry muffin.”
His shoulders slumped. “Elsie’s favorite.”
She crouched beside him and patted his hand. “Rough day, huh?”
“Forty-eight years.” He traced the plain gold band embedded in his finger while gazing into the fire. “She was my everything. I miss her.”
She squeezed his hand, feeling his pain. “I know.”
He pressed his lips against her knuckles. “Thanks for the extra muffin.”
“Anything for you, Emmett.” Josie patted his cheek.
The phone rang, but Agnes snagged it. She covered the phone with her hand. “Josie, Billy Lynn’s on the phone asking about his doughnut order?”
Josie left Emmett and hurried to the counter. “Doughnut order?”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth when she spotted the pink sticky note reminding her about the six dozen doughnuts requested by the fire department. That was the baking thing she was forgetting. She sighed and resisted the urge to bang her head against the pastry case. If she hadn’t overslept, the doughnuts would be ready and waiting by now.
She reached for the phone. “Hey, Billy. This is Josie. I’m running behind today. When’s the latest I can get them to you?”
“Would noon be pushing it?”
Eyeing the clock, she did a mental calculation. “No, I can handle that. Again, I’m sorry.”
“Bring me a cup of that Almond Toffee Crunch coffee and I’ll forgive you, Dollface.”
“I’ll bring you a whole pot.”
“Josie!” The alarm in Agnes’s voice sent ice through Josie’s veins.
Hannah!
“Billy, I gotta go.” She sprinted through the swinging kitchen door. The kitchen was empty. “Agnes? Hannah? Where are you?”
“The storeroom. Hurry your fanny in here.”
Josie hurried past her office to the storeroom near the back door. Her nose wrinkled against a musty, sulfur smell. Gross.
She rounded the corner to find Agnes and Hannah staring at the ceiling. She followed their gazes. Her stomach plummeted to her toes. She groaned and slumped against the doorjamb. “Oh, no! Oh, please no. Not now. Not this.” Josie squeezed her eyes shut, counted to ten in Italian—uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque, sei, sette, otto, nove, dieci—and then opened her eyes, praying what she saw had been a mistake. Or a trick of the eyes.
No such luck.
A section of the ceiling in the storeroom hung down like an escape hatch. Soaked drywall, exposed beams and floor joists and dripping insulation drooped from the damaged area. Water droplets beaded along old iron plumbing pipes. Blackened puckers stretched along the seams in the upstairs apartment’s wooden floor.
The drain in the floor gurgled as dripping water spiraled into the circular grate. Most of her baking supplies had been stored in airtight plastic containers, so at least they were spared. But looking at the gaping ceiling again, she could almost see the money flowing out of her bank account. Okay, God, a cork would be nice. So much for paying this month’s mortgage on time.
* * *
Nick grabbed his cell phone and checked the time. He hadn’t seen Josie in a while. Had she forgotten they planned to talk at 8:30, which was ten minutes ago? Maybe she was ticked because he had shown up so early, but hey, a guy can count the ceiling tiles in his hotel room only so long. Nothing good on the tube this early in the morning, anyway, so he headed in to get a cup of coffee. Besides, he had an idea to discuss with her about Hannah.
Seeing Hannah with her nearly caused his legs to give out. The child looked more like she was six or seven than close to ten. Josie didn’t seem thrilled to see him, but what was he expecting? A hero’s welcome? A loving hug? Not going to happen. Especially since she thought he had bailed all those years ago.
“Finished with that plate, Sugar Pie?”
Nick looked up from scanning the Knicks score to find the same redhead who nearly slipped on the icy walk standing next to him. He smiled. “Yes, thanks.”
She grabbed the plate and sashayed back to the kitchen. No other way to describe her walk.
Some old guy kept giving him the evil eye. He had been minding his own business, reading the paper. Giving a mental shrug, he returned to the sports section to finish reading the highlights of last night’s game. Or at least pretend to.
About half an hour ago, Hannah came out of the kitchen and settled at a corner table with her nose in a book. She didn’t take her eyes off the page, but Nick couldn’t keep his eyes off his daughter. The way she bit her lip reminded him of Josie. If Hannah had hair, would she twirl a curl around her finger the way her mother did?
Maybe he could go over and talk to her.
That would send Josie through the roof. Besides, he didn’t want to risk upsetting the child. He had to do something, though. Sitting here was driving him nuts. He folded the newspaper, set it on the counter and moved off the stool to head for the kitchen. If she didn’t come to him, he’d go to her.
The old man who had been giving him the evil eye appeared at his side. “Mind if someone else takes a gander at the paper?”
“Have at it.” Nick pushed it toward him.
The man shuffled through the pages until he found what he had been looking for. “Hey, you did the crossword! In pen. I don’t believe it.”
“Is that a problem?”
“I do the crossword. Every morning at 7:15, I get a coffee, a banana nut muffin and then do the crossword until it’s time to visit my son.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll head outside and buy you a new paper.” Nick grabbed his coat.
“Don’t bother. No time now. The morning’s been disrupted enough.” The man shoved the paper back onto the counter.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Josie come from the kitchen. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I am sorry. I promise not to touch the crossword again. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He strode to the counter to catch her before she pulled another disappearing act. She wasn’t hiding because of him, was she?
She spun away from the register and pushed open the swinging door, but Nick caught her elbow. She whirled around to face him.
“Nick.”
“We were supposed to talk. Remember?”
She shot a glance at the clock and then sighed. “Oh, that’s right. I’m so sorry. It’s been a crazy morning. Listen, I’m not trying to blow you off or anything, but I have a major water leak to deal with, a doughnut order to rush and then I have to take Hannah to the doctor at two. Can we talk later?”
“Where’s her doctor?”
“A couple of blocks from here. Dr. Kym.”
“I have an appointment at 11:30, but I could meet you at the doctor afterward.”
“That’s not necessary.” She cast a glance toward Hannah and then edged toward the still-open kitchen door.
Nick gave her a pointed look. “She’s my daughter, too. Remember? I need to know what’s going on with her.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. “I haven’t had time to tell Hannah about you. You can’t just show up as some random guy. And I’m not going to introduce you in the doctor’s office. You’re bound to be a shock to her.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Josie made sense. He remembered last night’s stunned feeling when he learned he had a daughter. How would the kid feel once she learned dear old dad finally showed up? “All right, then. How about if the three of us go to dinner?”
“Can’t.” Josie picked up a rag and wiped crumbs off the counter.
Nick crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “You want me to get tested, but you don’t want me to be a part of her life?”
With her back to him, she rinsed the dishcloth in the sink. “No, it’s not that at all. My family is coming to dinner tonight. Hannah can’t be around a lot of people right now with her immune system being so weak. I risked her health by bringing her into the shop this morning, but I had no choice.”
“What happened?”
She turned around. “I overslept. My grandfather had an appointment today and won’t be home until dinner. My stepsister is coming to pick up Hannah. Because of the water leak, I don’t want her in the kitchen.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “It’s been one disaster after another.”
“Sounds like you need a vacation.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen.” Her eyes filled with a sadness that tugged at his heart.
He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, but touching her was the last thing she wanted. Plus, he didn’t believe in giving false hope or meaningless platitudes because he didn’t know if everything was going to work out. From his past experience he knew how life had a way of dishing out trash no one deserved.
Chapter Four
If Josie had a quarter for every “if only” that popped into her brain, she’d be able to pay off the rest of Hannah’s medical bills and head south to their dream beach house on the Gulf Coast of Florida.
She stared through the gaping hole in the bathroom floor in the upstairs apartment down to her shop. Like the one in her pocket.
Was this how Alice felt when she peered down the rabbit hole?
Okay, maybe not quite, but Josie had the sensation of falling into a very deep well—one not lined with Ben Franklins.
Footprints had been tracked through the plaster dust and muddied the water-stained brown tile in the storeroom. The same dust coated the metal storage racks and plastic totes. Swollen ceiling tiles lay tossed on the floor.
All because of a tiny...what did Harv call that little doohickey thing? She tried, she really did, to listen as her contractor explained the plumbing problem in lingo she could understand. He was the expert, after all. But her thoughts kept returning to the cost to fix the mess. Not to mention the stench pickled her brain.
If only she hadn’t forgotten to call Harv to fix that leaky toilet when her previous tenant had mentioned it. But once Hannah’s leukemia returned, everything else dropped on her priority list. If only... No, she wasn’t going there. She didn’t have time for pity parties. Especially when Hannah had it so much worse.
“Josie, did you hear what I said?”
Josie swung her gaze to Harv, who stood next to Ian James, her insurance man. Both men wore grim expressions that did little to soothe the ache in her stomach. “I’m sorry, Harv. I disappeared down a rabbit hole.”
“Climb back out, Alice. We have some figures to discuss.” The creases around his eyes deepened as he winked at her. He tugged his John Deere baseball hat out of his back pocket and plopped it on top of his balding head.
Josie jerked her head toward the door. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll get you guys some coffee.”
Ian held the door for them. “Say, Josie. Is Agnes working?”
As Josie passed by him, she took in his black suit, white creaseless shirt, shiny shoes and trimmed hair. “Yes, Ian, but roll up your tongue. She doesn’t need another man in her life right now.”
“When did you become her mother?” he muttered, following her down the stairs.
“After I cleaned up the train wreck of her marriage. You saw what that jerk did to her.” Josie opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. A late-winter breeze whisked across her cheeks.
“Josie, chill. I’m not going to cheat on her. I just want to take her to dinner.”
Entering the coffee shop, Josie sniffed the scent of freshly baked blueberry cobbler. Her stomach growled. “Everyone’s charming on the first date, aren’t they?”
“When did you become so cynical?” He smoothed a hand over his hair.
Josie opened her mouth and then shut it. No need to yank those skeletons from her closet. Shelby Lake was her fresh start.
She gentled her voice and placed a hand on his arm. “Listen, Ian, you’re a great guy, but take it slow, okay? Agnes looks like she has it all together, but her heart is pieced together with Scotch Tape.”
Ian pocketed his Clark Kent glasses and stared over her shoulder a minute. Then he pulled his gaze back to meet hers. He touched the tip of her nose. “Are you sure you’re still talking about Agnes?”
“Positive. Find a table. I need to pull cobbler out of the oven.” Before he had a chance to protest, Josie whirled away from him.
Crazy talk.
Her heart was just fine, thank you very much.
Besides, she and Agnes looked out for each other. That’s what friends did.
She pushed through the kitchen door and knocked heads with Agnes. So much for looking out for her.
“Sugar Pie, where’s the fire?” Agnes rubbed the right side of her forehead.
Josie sniffed back sudden tears as she scrunched her throbbing eye closed. “Sorry, Aggie. I didn’t see you.”
Agnes primped her curls. “And here, I thought I made my hair extra high this morning. Figured you could’ve seen it through the window.”
“Yeah, if I was looking for Texas-size hair.”
“How’d it go upstairs?”
“Ugh.” Josie gloved her hands with pink pig oven mitts and pulled open the oven door. Heat pressed against her face and neck. She pulled out a bubbling blueberry cobbler and set it on top of the stove.
“That good, huh?”
Josie slapped the mitts next to the dessert, crossed her arms and leaned one hip against the counter. “Am I a terrible person who deserves all of this grief? Doesn’t seem fair.”
“Life doesn’t play fair, Sugar Pie. This ain’t about you, so don’t go taking this on yourself. You’re doing the best you can with what you’ve got.”
“If I had the toilet fixed when Beatrice mentioned it, we wouldn’t be in this mess. A lousy two-dollar part would’ve saved me thousands. What sort of responsible business owner am I?”
Agnes grabbed Josie’s arms and squeezed gently. “The kind who is trying to do everything and be everything to everyone. Cut yourself some slack.”
“If only—”
“No ‘if onlys’ about it. You could waste forever on shoulda woulda coulda. Yesterday is all gone, thank you. Instead, focus on what you’re going to do now to fix it. That’s what matters. None of us expected this to happen.”
Ian poked in his head in the kitchen. “Josie, Harv had a call and left. He said he’ll stop back in later, but he left an estimate. And I need to head back to the office.”
“I’m coming now.” With Agnes on her heels, Josie followed him to the dining room table where Ian had his computer tablet and a yellow legal pad spread out.
Ian handed her an invoice. “This is Harv’s estimate. He’ll go over it with you later.”
Josie’s eyes widened at the number of zeroes to the left of the decimal point. She glanced at Agnes and Ian. “Twenty thousand? Seriously?”
Ian guided her to the chair and forced her to sit. He took one beside her. “Don’t worry, Josie. The insurance should cover it.”
“Should?” Her voice squeaked. “It has to.”
“Normally, yes, but in cases of neglect, things get a little dicey.”
She gripped the edge of the paper. “Do you know how many cancer treatments twenty thousand will buy?” Not to mention, it could go a long way toward her growing pile of co-pays and medical bills. She couldn’t afford to waste it on a stupid toilet problem.
Agnes set a steaming cup of tea in front of Josie. “Drink, Sugar Pie.”
She cupped her hands around the mug, breathed in herbal mint and blinked back tears. “I can’t afford this, Aggie. I could sell the shop, but then I’ll lose Hannah’s insurance.”
Agnes pulled out a chair and sat opposite of Ian, sandwiching his hands between her own. “Ian James, you know as well as I do that Josie has been spending every possible minute with her daughter, taking her to the doctor and chemo treatments and keeping this place running.”
“Of course, Agnes.” The tips of his ears turned crimson.
“Don’t seem to me that it’s neglect if she simply hasn’t had time to attend to it. Why, that’s just silly. Shame on you for making this poor girl cry. As if she doesn’t have enough to worry about already. Now you be a good insurance man and file the paperwork so Josie doesn’t have to worry her pretty little head about this anymore.” She patted his cheek as if he were a six-year-old child being scolded for eating cookies before dinner.
Agnes stood and slid her hand under Josie’s elbow, guiding her to stand. “Come along, Josie. Ian will take care of everything. Won’t you, darlin’?”
Slack-jawed, Josie stared at her friend and then slid a glance at Ian. The poor man was so smitten by Agnes—and no, she didn’t blame him—he’d probably don a chicken suit and cluck if requested.
Pushing to his feet, Ian cleared his throat and ran a hand over his slicked-back hair. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Josie. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of. I’ll call Harv and deal with him myself. Agnes is right. You have more important things to worry about.”
Agnes rounded the table and showered him with a honey-laden smile. She brushed invisible lint off his jacket and straightened his narrow pinstriped tie. “You are a good, good man, Ian James. You and I both know Josie isn’t neglectful. Forgetful, maybe, but can you blame the poor dear? Her mind is wrapped around her calendar and her daughter’s health.” Agnes spun on her toes and sashayed her size six Texas dynamo behind the counter to wait on a customer.
Ian fumbled to put his notepad and computer tablet in his hard-sided briefcase. He removed his glasses from his pocket and set them on his nose without taking his eyes off Agnes. “She’s a firecracker, isn’t she?”
Josie glanced over her at her friend and grinned. “That’s one word for it.”
Ian gave Josie’s shoulder a squeeze and then ambled out the door, whistling.
Josie straightened the chairs and grabbed her cooling cup of tea. She set it on the counter by the espresso machine and applauded quietly. “That, my friend, deserved an Oscar.”
Agnes looked up from the latte she was making. “Whatever do you mean?”
“That man is so sweet on you, he’d do anything you asked.”
“All of this coffee has marinated your brain. You’re imagining things.”
“I didn’t imagine that hole in the floor. I just hope the insurance will cover it.”
“Ian will come through for you, Sugar Pie. And so will God. Just you wait and see.”
* * *
Nick stood on the sidewalk in front of the white clapboard house with red shutters and checked the house number against the scribbles on his paper. It looked more like someone’s home than a place for adults with special needs.
Before Josie whirled back into his life yesterday, Nick received a call from Miss Patty, his brother’s group home caregiver, giving him a month to find a new place for Ross. Her son-in-law received orders to Okinawa, and Patty was moving to Virginia to be with her pregnant daughter. At least she gave him a place to check out—Jacob House, owned by her cousin Mae and her husband, Walt.
He needed to do this. For Ross.
His brother was going to lose it when moving day arrived. And being even farther from Linwood Park wasn’t going to help with Nick’s commute. Maybe he should just cancel the appointment.
Not an option. Patty was still moving, and Nick couldn’t care for Ross by himself.
Exposed branches scratched at the multipaned dormer windows. He strode up the cleared sidewalk, making a mental note of the wheelchair ramp off to the side and covered with nonskid surfacing. Snow melted like leftover frosting over low evergreens hugging the rails of the wraparound porch. A black mailbox with a red cardinal painted on the front hung next to the door.
The wide front porch with the gray planked floor, padded wooden rockers and swaying porch swing made Nick think of summer evenings shooting the breeze with neighbors or enjoying a quiet evening with the family while swigging iced tea from Mason jars.
The curtains in the window moved, and a pale face pressed to the glass stared at him. Nick lifted a hand. The face disappeared, leaving behind a smudge on the pane.
He wiped his feet on a bristled welcome mat and rang the doorbell, hearing the gongs echo throughout the interior. No turning back now.
The door opened, revealing a man with graying hair and wearing faded jeans and an Ohio State sweatshirt. A wide smile erased the drill instructor sternness from his forehead. “Good morning. You must be Nick. I’m Walt Hoffman.” He held out a hand.
Nick shook it. “Nick Brennan.”
“We spoke on the phone. Welcome to Jacob House. Come in and meet everyone.” He stepped aside for Nick to enter.
The aroma of freshly baked bread reminded him of Josie’s place. His mouth watered.
A woman with dark hair pulled into a ponytail and dressed in a denim jumper and white tennis shoes came out of the living room. “Good morning. You must be Nick. I’m Jane Vogt, one of the staffers. Let me take your coat.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He shook her hand and then shrugged off his jacket to hand to her. Over Jane’s shoulder, three men stood in the living room doorway, whispering to each other.
Jane turned and laid her hand on the shoulder of one man with neatly combed red hair and wire-rimmed glasses. His almond-shaped eyes stared at Nick as his tongue protruded slightly from his mouth. He wore a green-and-yellow bowling shirt with Ernie stitched on the left pocket and hugged a Cabbage Patch-style doll dressed the same way, glasses and all. “Ernie, this is Nick Brennan. Nick, Ernie is one of our residents at Jacob House.”
“Nice to meet you, Ernie.” Nick held out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Ernie spoke with a slight lisp as he reached for Nick’s hand. He thrust the doll at Nick. “This is Frederick.”
Nick shook Frederick’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Frederick.”
Ernie whispered something in Frederick’s ear and then put the doll’s mouth to his own ear. He grinned. “Frederick said nice to meet you, too.”
Jane linked her arms with the other two men. “This is Paul and Gideon.”
Paul’s dark hair was combed away from his face. He had a smudge of paint on his left cheek. Paint stains splattered his royal-blue apron.
“Nice to meet you, Paul.”
Paul nodded twice, gave Nick’s hand two shakes and then took two steps back where he tapped on the wall twice. He dropped his gaze to the floor, but his lips moved as he talked to himself.
“Gideon, can you say hi to Nick?” Jane placed her hand on Gideon’s back and urged him forward. He dug in his heels, crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.
“You don’t feel like talking?”
Gideon glared at Nick and shook his head again.
“Why not?” Jane spoke in gentle tones.
“He did the crossword puzzle.” His bottom lip protruded.
Nick frowned. “What crossword puzzle?”
“My dad’s puzzle.”
The old man at Cuppa Josie’s. A wave of heat crawled up Nick’s neck. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Gideon. I didn’t know your dad did the puzzle. I’m new in town. Please forgive me.”
Gideon looked at Jane. “Do I have to?”
She shook her head and smiled. “No, it’s your choice. I hope you do. I’m sure Mr. Nick would like to be friends.”
“Okay, Mr. Nick, I’ll be your friend.” Gideon stuck out a chubby hand. Nick reached for it, but before he could shake it, Gideon wrapped his arms around Nick and hugged him. He laid his head on Nick’s chest. “Thanks for being my friend.”
Nick patted Gideon’s back and prayed he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt.
Jane cupped a hand around her mouth and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “Gideon, I think you’re surprising our guest. Would you like to help me work on a jigsaw puzzle while Mr. Nick talks with Mr. Walt?”
Once Jane had redirected the three men back to the living room, Walt turned to Nick. “You handled yourself well. Other than Gideon launching himself at you. That’s important since I’m assuming you will be visiting quite a bit if you choose Jacob House for Ross’s new home. The men are close. Their acceptance helps.”
“I’ll be here several times a week. My brother is an important part of my life.”
Walt smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. Sounds good. Come on. Let’s grab some coffee.”
Walt led them through the living room. Ernie and Frederick sat on a dark brown leather couch, watching cartoons on the wide-screen TV. Jane and Gideon sat at a square table putting together a puzzle. Light streamed through a large bay window dressed in ruffled curtains, highlighting the pieces. Paul stood in front of an easel, holding a palette in his left hand as he added strokes of color on the canvas. A bird and a nest took shape.

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