Hometown Reunion Page 3

  Such a cliché. Literally, the girl next door. After parking in the half-circle drive, she trudged toward the backyard, where Shore folk did most of their living. She was careful to keep her eyes averted from the towering tree between the Parks and Pruitt yards as she plodded up the concrete steps to the screened porch.

  Darcy let the door slam behind her. It was that kind of day. “Mom?”

  “In here.”

  Stepping out of her flip-flops, she ventured inside the house. Her mother straightened from the oven, a casserole dish cradled in her mitted hands. Coils of steam rose from the lasagna. Mouthwatering aromas permeated the kitchen.

  Agnes smiled. “I made the lasagna this morning. After talking with Shirley at the Sandpiper, I only had to reheat the pan.”

  Darcy glanced at the kitchen clock. “Kind of early for dinner.”

  Her mother placed the hot dish in a padded, insulated carrier. “Not by the time you take this out to Shirley’s house for Jaxon.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not.”

  Agnes cocked her head. “Shirley left those boys with only milk in the fridge and cereal in the pantry.”

  Hands raised, Darcy stepped back. “One of those boys is a combat veteran. He can fend for himself.”

  “But Jaxon always loved my lasagna.”

  Darcy gave her a brittle smile. “Since nobody’s seen him in fourteen years, maybe it’s the only thing he loved about his hometown.”

  Her mom’s denim-blue eyes softened.

  Darcy stiffened. She knew the look. The kill-her-with-kindness approach. She must not weaken. She must not...

  “I don’t think that’s true, Darcy.” Her mother shifted to her I’m-so-disappointed-in-you look. “And what’s more, I don’t think you believe that, either.”

  “Jax can buy his own groceries. He can fix his own dinner. He doesn’t need our help.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Agnes’s mouth quirked. “Jaxon will have his hands full getting settled into his new home tonight. Think of his son.”

  Adorable Brody Pruitt was the last person she wanted to think about. No, that wasn’t true. Brody’s father was the last person she wanted to think about.

  Her mother gestured next door. “With his parents out of town, they probably haven’t had a decent meal yet.”

  “Jax looked just fine to me.”

  “Did he now?” Her mother’s eyes twinkled.

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Darcy bit her lip.

  Agnes placed a container of pimento cheese into a wicker basket. “They’re both too skinny. Especially Brody. He’s a growing boy. He needs to eat.”

  Darcy folded her arms. “Why don’t you take it to them?”

  “Your father would want to make sure Jaxon and his little orphan son were properly welcomed home...”

  It was all Darcy could do not to roll her eyes at the word orphan. But being the dutiful daughter she’d always been, she didn’t. PKs—preacher’s kids—never behaved disrespectfully.

  Then her beloved mother played her last, most effective card.

  “I guess when your dad returns...” Agnes placed a bunch of bananas in the basket. “Although your father usually tries to rest before his busiest day of the week. But we could drop everything... Head out there...” She emitted a long-drawn-out sigh.

  Darcy thrust out her hand. “Just give me the basket, Mom. I’ll take it out there, already.”

  Her mother beamed. “How nice of you to offer.”

  Darcy snorted. Not only unladylike, but also very unPK.

  Her mother’s unique blend of strong-armed gentleness would have made her a superb peace negotiator. But perhaps as a pastor’s wife, that’s exactly what she was—navigating the not-always-serene waters of Kiptohanock life.

  Agnes removed a pie from the refrigerator. “Shirley tells me you still need to brief Jaxon on the map route for the upcoming excursion.”

  “How did you—?” Darcy glanced at the old-fashioned landline phone hanging on the wall. “You and Shirley were pretty sure of yourselves, weren’t you, Mom?”

  “By now, Shirl’s probably on her way to the toll plaza at the bridge.” Agnes smoothed her apron. “Don’t be angry. I felt confident you’d do the right thing. As you always do.”

  That was her. Boring, dutiful Darcy. PK extraordinaire.

  Her mother plucked a loaf of bread off the countertop. “Besides, don’t you think it’s time you confronted this thing between you and Jaxon?”

  Mouth gaping, eyes wide—with horror—Darcy drew up. “There isn’t a thing between Jax and me.”

  Her mom arched her eyebrow. “Then what’s the big deal in helping him for a few months?”

  Darcy’s heart raced. “The big deal is...” She threw out her hands. “No one seems to understand that I’m the wronged one here.”

  Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “Tell me the truth. Why are you so afraid of helping Jaxon?”

  Darcy sucked in a breath. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  “No, my dear brave girl.” Her mother touched her arm. “You’re afraid of yourself.”

  She jerked free. “That’s not true.”

  “I think your father and I made the nest too cozy. But that’s no way to live, honey. It’s time to venture out. Test your wings and fly.” She placed her palm against Darcy’s cheek. “Don’t lock your heart away from the possibility of a new life.”

  Was her mom right? Was she afraid to reach for more? “Shirley told you about me moving to Florida?”

  Agnes fiddled with a tray of deli meat and sandwich rolls.

  Darcy blinked. “How long have you and Shirley been planning this ambush, Mom?”

  “Shirley came to us with the decision to sell the business to Jaxon.” Her mother gave Darcy a small smile. “A decision with which your father and I agreed. We see a lot of Shirley in you.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?” Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Shirley has built a successful business.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being independent. But at this point in her life, her choices have left her lonely. Your father and I, we want more for you.”

  “Dad is in on this, too?”

  “Your father wants to see you happy.” Moisture filled Agnes’s eyes. “God—via Shirley—has given you another opportunity.”

  “So you’d both be okay if I move to Florida?”

  Her mother gave a slow nod. “If Florida will make you truly happy.”

  Almost Shirley’s exact words.

  “Did moving to the parsonage make you truly happy, Mom?”

  Agnes gripped the basket handle. “It did.” But her mouth tightened.

  They were Harold Parks’s second family. Thirty-five years ago, his first wife and son had tragically died in a car accident. Something Darcy’s father never spoke about. Her mother, either.

  His replacement wife. His runner-up family. Like Darcy with the Florida business. And she was tired of feeling like the runner-up, the consolation prize.

  Did her mother know that every August 14 her father visited the tiny cemetery outside town?

  “I’m not like you, Mom. Not everyone wants to be a wife and mother.” She lifted her chin. “I’d never be happy at the beck and call of the entire village.”

  Her mother straightened. “Maybe not. But pursuing your dreams doesn’t have to exclude loving relationships.” Her forehead puckered. “Don’t waste this chance or this summer, Darcy. For your own sake, sweetheart. Please.”

  “Your kind of happiness won’t work for me.”

  “But Darcy, suppose this summer is about more than kayaking?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Her mother flipped the basket lid shut. “Life is a journey. Like love. And you never know what might lie beyond the next bend.”<
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  Darcy huffed. “Better paddle harder. I think I hear banjos.”

  Her mother—pastor’s wife, former social worker and everyone’s favorite friend—crinkled her eyes at Darcy. “If nothing else, be kind to a lonely little boy who’s lost his mother and everything he ever knew.”

  Bull’s eye. The chink in Darcy’s armor. Despite being an only child—maybe because of being a lonely only—she loved children.

  And so fifteen minutes later, she stowed the basket in the SUV. Her mother waved from the front lawn.

  Darcy told herself she was doing this only for Brody. She couldn’t get the image of his sad face out of her mind, and thoughts of the withdrawn little guy lay heavy on her heart. Getting an idea, she made a quick detour north on Highway 13 to the dollar store.

  The vibe between Jax and his son continued to gnaw at her. Back in the car, she ventured off the main road toward Shirley’s wooded farmhouse, situated on an isolated neck of the inlet.

  Was her mom right? Was this summer about more than merely keeping a business afloat? Turning off Seaside Road, the SUV bounced across the rutted drive.

  On the football field, Jax had possessed a daring recklessness. Like each of the overachieving Pruitts—Ben the Annapolis grad, Will the firefighter, dad and brother Charlie deputy sheriffs—fear had never been a factor for Green Beret Jax.

  But now? A memory arose in her mind of an incident that had happened a few years ago, after the hurricane tore through Kiptohanock.

  A golden retriever had floundered in the harbor off the jetty. In the dog’s eyes she’d beheld the same expression she’d glimpsed in Jax’s face this afternoon when he gazed at his son. Despair and an overwhelming fear.

  Steering the SUV through the grove of trees, she winced at the memory of that day. Losing strength, the retriever had appeared about to go under. Just like Jaxon Pruitt?

  Disturbed by the comparison, she gripped the wheel. She’d dived into the churning water without hesitation to rescue the dog. And kept the retriever afloat long enough for a Coastie to jump in and get them both to safety. Later, the owners had gratefully reclaimed their pet.

  Was that what God wanted her to do with Jax and Brody? Get them to a safe place? Was this summer about keeping them afloat until they gained a foothold of trust with each other? At stake was Brody’s relationship with his dad.

  As to her own continuing proximity with Brody’s widowed father? Darcy released a slow trickle of breath. This wouldn’t end well.

  Because where Jaxon Pruitt was concerned, it never had. Not for her.

  Chapter Three

  Jaxon tucked Brody’s folded shirts and jeans into the bureau drawer. The socks and Spider-Man underwear went into another drawer. Hand on his hips, Jax glanced around the bedroom.

  He’d purchased the rambling, three-bedroom farmhouse from his aunt as part of their business deal. At present, the house was furnished with only the bare essentials. As spartan and unsentimental as his aunt, it would be up to Jax to figure out how to turn the house into a home for Brody.

  What Jax knew about kids—despite being the oldest of four brothers and one sister—wouldn’t fill Brody’s pint-size suitcase.

  Stowing the suitcase in the hall closet, he headed down the creaking staircase to check on his son. And found him where he’d left him ten minutes ago. Knees planted in the sofa cushion, Brody kept his eyes fastened on the winding driveway. As if he was waiting for someone. Watching for someone—like his mother?—who’d never return.

  Guilt twisted Jax’s gut. “What’re you doing, son?”

  Brody didn’t turn around. “Hungwy.”

  Him, too. “Let’s get chicken nuggets at McDonald’s.”

  Brody shook his head, but his fixation on the driveway didn’t waver. “No ’Donalds.”

  Jax was also tired of fast food. It had been a long day, starting with the drive over the Bay Bridge Tunnel. With the waves lapping the shoreline in Virginia Beach, they’d crossed the steel-girded artery which connected what been here, born heres called the Western Shore of mainland Virginia to their Eastern Shore home.

  Brody probably should’ve had a nap. But perched high in his car seat, he’d studied the shorebirds wheeling overhead, the silent child as emotionally remote as Jax himself.

  Apples and trees. Fathers and sons. He scrubbed his hand over his face. Bringing up the tree thing with Darcy had been a mistake. A tactical error in winning her support.

  He needed her help or this attempt at a new life was doomed. But he’d gone too fast, pushing his business ideas on her. Neither of them were the same carefree kids they’d been. And now he’d blown any hope of friendship, much less a business collaboration.

  And there remained his biggest dilemma—how to reach his son. As he knelt there staring through the window, Brody’s skinny shoulder blades stood out through his Power Rangers T-shirt.

  “What ’bout cereal, Brode?”

  Home less than a day, Jax had already slipped into his native speech. Bogue, fogue and dogue were sure to follow for bog, fog and dog.

  “No...” An unaccustomed whine had crept into Brody’s too stoic voice.

  Better forget Brody’s usual tub time. Jax wasn’t sure he had the fortitude to gator wrestle a two-year-old, slippery as an eel, into a bath. He’d feed Brody and put him to bed.

  As for the upcoming kayaking excursion? He rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to work out the kinks. He also needed to study the water charts for the Tuesday morning expedition.

  “How ’bout pizza, son?”

  An SUV rounded the curve in the driveway. Darcy’s SUV. Jax’s heartbeat accelerated. Brody launched himself off the couch and grabbed the doorknob.

  Jax scrambled after him. “Wait, Brody.” But somehow the child managed to pry open the door. Who knew a two-year-old could be so fast?

  As Jax stepped onto the wraparound porch, his son hurled himself at Darcy. His arms clasped around her legs, Brody buried his face in her jeans. “Me know you come, Dawcy. Me know.”

  Darcy’s eyes went wide. Jax stood frozen. A wicker basket lay in the gravel beside her. A plastic shopping bag dangled from her hand.

  Brody had been waiting and watching for Darcy? After what happened earlier, Jax had feared they’d seen the last of her. Yet here she was. And with a childlike faith, Brody had believed she’d come.

  Jax moved to ground level. “Let me take something.” He grabbed hold of the basket.

  “Thanks.”

  His arms sagged at the basket’s weight. “Wow, how did you get this thing out of the car?”

  “When will you learn, Pruitt, it’s all about girl power?”

  She’d been telling him that since she was only slightly older than Brody. His mouth curved. “How could I forget?”

  With her free hand, she cupped Brody’s head. But her gaze never left Jax. “See that you don’t, Pruitt.”

  She drew back, though, when he reached for the plastic bag. “It’s a surprise for later.”

  Letting go of her legs, Brody turned his face up to her. “’Pwize?”

  She pointed to the hamper. “Only if you eat a good dinner.”

  Brody’s stomach rumbled, and he laughed.

  Jax almost dropped the basket. “That’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh since...” Chest heaving, he gulped past the boulder lodged in his throat.

  Darcy’s lips quivered. “I’m glad.”

  He was glad she was here. But he couldn’t say that to her. That had never been the way they were with each other. Instead, he took a lungful of the scents wafting from the basket. “Something smells great.”

  She shrugged. “Mom was convinced you two would die of starvation without a home-cooked meal tonight.”

  He’d always loved her mother, Agnes, a quiet, sweet spirit more comfortable behind the scenes than center stage. W
ith his own mother off-Shore right now, somehow she’d known what he and Brody needed most was a taste of home.

  “Lasagna. Half spinach for Brody, meat for a carnivore like you.” Darcy squared her shoulders. “Also included, lunch fixings for tomorrow. And a pie tonight if both of you are very good boys.”

  “Me wuv pie.” Propped against her thigh, Brody sighed, a sound of utter contentment.

  Not unlike what Jax was feeling. Suddenly, the world seemed a better place. Despite the fading sunlight, a happier, brighter place.

  She bit her lip. “Would Brody let me pick him up, Jax?”

  “Not me, but you he might.”

  Flushing, he dropped his eyes at the painful admission. She must think him a terrible father. His own son didn’t want Jax to hold him.

  She opened her arms, and Brody didn’t hesitate. He leaped into her embrace. Jax pushed aside a sting of envy.

  He heaved the basket up the steps. “I’ll call your mom later and thank her.”

  At the door, he paused, keeping his back to Darcy. “Seems like a ton of food for just the little guy and me. Would you stay and help us?”

  He was asking for more than dinner. They both knew it. And if she refused? He wasn’t sure how he’d cope with another rejection from her today.

  The silence stretched. He closed his eyes, but didn’t turn around. His heart pounded in his ears.

  “I’ll stay.”

  Opening his eyes, he released a breath.

  She lugged his son, propped on her hip, onto the porch. “After dinner, I’ll go over the map route with you.”

  He held the door for her. “I’d appreciate it.”

  In the kitchen, he set out the food on the butcher-block countertop. He hadn’t had time to explore the kitchen, but he needn’t have worried. She immediately pulled out plates and removed glasses from the cabinet next to the sink.

  “You’ve spent a lot of time here with Shirley.”

  Darcy opened a utensil drawer. “She mentored me.”

  And therefore, Darcy was far much more deserving of this opportunity than him. No wonder she resented him. No wonder she didn’t want to work with him.