Enchanted Spring (14 page)

The women were interested, but Mrs. Burns said quickly, “That would mean rent for a collection place and a salary for someone in charge — ”

“Dr. Hunter’s got an extra shed-room he’s not using,” said Carey. “And I’ll offer my services without charge of any kind. I could look after the collecting, and there could be a committee for distribution — and visiting and finding the people who need help. Dr. Hunter would know a lot about such things.”

“I think Carey’s right,” Mrs. Burns said vigorously. “It sounds a marvellous idea. Shall I put it to a vote?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” said Mrs. Morgan, her kind brown eyes eager. “I’m sure we all remember how terrible we felt last spring when poor old Mr. Henderson hung himself because he didn’t want to be a burden on his son, after his son lost his job.”

“I move we adopt Carey’s suggestion,” said Louella Towne, a middle-aged school-teacher who sat beside Carey. “And I further move that we appoint Carey permanent chairman and place her in complete charge of the whole thing.”

“I second that!” chorused half a dozen women.

Carey blinked to check the tears. “Oh, you’re all perfectly swell! Only I don’t think I’m clever enough or wise enough — ”

“Nor old enough?” Mrs. Burns’ eyes were warm with affection. “I think, Carey, that your youth and your lack of what you call wisdom is going to be the very thing that will help most with this project. People who would resent being helped by older people to whom their troubles would be more or less routine, are going to be grateful and happy at your interest. You’ve the understanding heart, Carey, and the warm, loving sympathy that is going to break down every barrier of false pride.”

“You’re exactly the person we need, Carey,” said Mrs. Morgan. “And tomorrow I’m going to bring you a couple of quilts and some jelly and eggs and things — whatever I think somebody might be able to use.”

The others chorused an eager agreement and the meeting adjourned amid a flutter of plans and discussions and friendly chatter.

Driving back to town Margaret said suddenly, “You are the most amazing creature! A month ago I wanted nothing quite so much as to break your haughty young neck. I’ve thoroughly despised you for years — but now, darn it, I’m afraid I’m going to be fond of you!”

Carey grinned. “I’m growing up, maybe? I never was fond of you, either, Margaret. There have been many times since Christmas when I’d have thoroughly enjoyed mixing you a nice cyanide cocktail. But now, somehow, I can face the thought of your marrying my father — and like it. You — well, you’re a pretty swell person, Margaret.”

“I’m nothing of the sort, my lamb! And don’t you believe it. I’m the leopard that doesn’t change her spots. I’m just as mean and cantankerous as I ever was — and you are still a spoiled brat. A month from now, we’ll probably be clawing at each other’s eyes just as vigorously as ever.”

But Carey wasn’t listening. They had entered Midvale’s one main street and were passing Cofer’s on the left. Opposite Cofer’s an old-fashioned white house set back from the street and, swinging from a white gate set in the picket fence, there was a sign that read:
Joel Hunter, M.D.
Parked in front of the gate was a familiar and sturdy little car.

Margaret caught the look on Carey’s face, revealed in that moment of Carey’s unawareness, and she said casually, “I have to stop at Cofer’s a minute, dear.”

She parked the car and went in. Carey sat still for a long moment. And then, impelled by some emotion that she did not stop to check or analyze, she slid out of the car and went swiftly across the street. She swung open the gate beneath the sign and went briskly up the walk that led to a small room opening off the main house, with an office sign above it. She turned the knob, pushed open the door and a bell jangled somewhere in the depths of the house.

Her knees shook a little and she sat down in an old black leather chair to wait. She heard footsteps and then Joel stood in the doorway, looking at her.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Winslow of Park Avenue!”

“Smile when you say that!” Carey commanded sternly. “I stopped in, Joel, to tell you that I’ve been taking your name in vain with the Ladies’ Aid this afternoon,” she told him hurriedly, not quite able to meet his eyes, clutching wildly for something to say that would sound casual.

“The Ladies Aid? They’re pals of mine.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Carey assured him swiftly, and for a moment forgot her uneasiness as she launched into an account of the Community Assistance League that had been formed this afternoon and of which she was to be the permanent head.

Joel heard her through without a word and when she had finished, she added hesitantly, “I know it was — well, pretty bold of me to offer them the use of that little shed-room at the back, for a collection depot and office. But I — I know how you feel about the people around here — and I won’t bother you a bit, being there practically all day — ”

“So you won’t bother me, eh?” Joel said at last. “Surely, Carey, you’re not fool enough to think that I could stand having you about my place all day — unless you were going to be here permanently?”

She caught her breath, and he took a swift step toward her. “Carey, for the love of Pete — put me out of my misery! Don’t hang around here if — if you’re still carrying the torch for that Norris-bird.”

Carey caught her breath again and there was a mist of tears in her eyes as she stammered, “Norris? Who — who’s Norris?”

Joel ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair with a little gesture of desperation. “If you stand there looking at me like that — in just about a minute, Carey, I’m going to kiss you. And once I’ve kissed you, you’re never going to get away from me again as long as you live. I’m warning you.”

Carey’s smile was a mingling of tears and laughter as she put out a shaking hand to him, and her voice was little more than a thread of sound when she whispered:

“It’s — not a warning, darling — it’s — it’s a promise.”

“Oh, my Lord!” Joel said huskily, and then his arms were about her, gathering her close against him, his cheek touching hers. “Carey — Carey — I’ve loved you so long, and thought there wasn’t a chance for me. I’m not much, Carey — but if you’ll only marry me, darling, I’ll make you proud of me — I swear it!”

“Proud of you? Oh, Joel, darling — I couldn’t be prouder of you than I am now!” she told him shakily. “You’ll have to be very patient with me — so I can live up to what people are going to expect Joel Hunter’s wife to be.”

It was then that Joel kissed her.

If bad things really did come in threes, then a flat tire in a chilly October rainstorm rounded out the trifecta. Though a failed marriage and the death of her beloved grandmother certainly put this particular crimp in perspective. Quinn eased her BMW to the shoulder and prayed that she wasn't inviting more trouble by getting the wheels stuck in gooey, back roads mud. She leaned her head against the backrest and closed her eyes.

The engine was idling, the wipers barely able to keep up with the sheet of rain pouring steadily from the sky. Daylight was giving up its last gasp and Quinn was stranded on a road that didn't see much traffic at the best of times. This move back to Scallop Shores, Maine, was not starting off well.

She rooted through the usual plethora of junk in her purse, searching for her elusive cell phone. Of course it hid at the very bottom. Quinn grimaced when her fingers came in contact with something sticky — she didn't want to know. Seconds later, she fished the phone out of her bag. “Yes!”

The battery was dead. “No, no, no!” She threw the phone to the floor, startling the cat in the kennel beside her, still sleepy from kitty-downers. “I just charged this last night.” The day officially could not get any worse.

Distracted, she didn't realize she was no longer alone on the quiet rural road until a tall silhouette suddenly loomed at the driver's side window. Grizzabella, the cat, hissed. Quinn screamed. Her heart thudded in time with the thumping on her window as the larger-than-life man tried to get her attention. How had he snuck up on her like that?

She twisted in her seat to look behind her. Sure enough, a large white pickup truck had pulled to the edge of the road, its light color still discernable against the bright autumn wardrobe that dressed the trees lining the road. Squinting, Quinn could make out someone else in the truck.

The city girl in her balked at the idea of opening her window, even an inch, to talk to this man. But the small-town girl, the one raised right here, remembered that folks in Scallop Shores helped each other out. Even if it meant getting a thorough dousing while waiting to do a good deed. She lowered the window.

“Got yourself into a bind, huh? Pop the trunk, I'll get the spare out.” He grinned, showing dazzling teeth, and Quinn thought it unfair that one man could have been gifted with so many gorgeous features.

“I can get out. Do you want me to get out? Maybe I could help.” Quinn shoved a knuckle into her mouth to stop the blathering.

Raking a large hand through his soggy dark hair, the stranger tossed her an amused stare and shook his head. When she just sat there, he nodded toward the button that would release the trunk. Oh yeah.

Quinn sunk low in her seat, embarrassed that she'd gotten so flustered over a good-looking stranger. He was just a man. She scooted back up and checked out what was going on through the rearview mirror. He hefted out the spare tire and jack and slammed the trunk closed. He really was big. Tall, broad-shouldered, pec muscles clearly defined by the soaked-through T-shirt that clung like a second skin.

Sure her assessment through the rearview mirror had been covert, Quinn nearly squealed when the stranger stopped to stare back at her. Even in the fading twilight, she could see just how icy blue his eyes were. There was nothing icy about the slow heat that spread through her veins when their eyes met.

She squirmed in her seat, trying to ignore this physical reaction that she had no time or use for. Relief flooded through her as she spied her sketchpad on the passenger seat. She snatched it like a lifeline. Switching on the overhead light and flipping to an empty sheet, she braced the little notebook against the bouncing of the car as it was jacked up. Quinn started to draw. She always started with the eyes. What would hers say right now?

Relief. Things hadn't worked out. Marriage wasn't for everyone. Coming back to the small New England town where she was raised was the perfect place to start over. She was better off alone.

Her thoughts wandered until a tap on her window made her jump again. She lowered it just a crack.

“Making sure you'll have a positive ID for the police?” He lowered his gaze to the drawing in her lap. Quinn looked down in horror to see the stranger's face staring back at her.

“I, uh, sketch when I'm bored.” She'd meant to say nervous but didn't want him to know how much he'd affected her. She ripped the page out of the book and passed it through the space in the window. “Here, take it.”

He took the picture, staring at it curiously.

“I'd really like to give you something for your time.”
Oh good lord, could that have come out any more suggestive?
Quinn felt her cheeks grow warm again.

“I was raised not to expect anything for helping someone in need.”

“Then I hope to return the favor someday.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You're going to change a flat on my truck?” Chuckling, he headed back to his own vehicle.

That wasn't what she'd meant! He had deliberately misunderstood her. Quinn turned around in her seat, but he was already getting into his truck. He pulled up alongside her car and rolled down the passenger side window.

“Have a nice trip.”

He'd noticed the New York plates then.

Well, she was done with New York City. She was done with broken dreams. And she was especially done with men. Quinn Baker was starting over — and she was in Scallop Shores to stay.

• • •

Did he really look that cranky? He looked mean. She made him look mean. Jonah threw the sketch back on the kitchen table where he'd been staring at it, off and on, since they got home earlier.

“What do you think, Cuteness? Do I look like a grouch?” He turned to Lily, fresh out of the tub, all pink cheeks and footy PJ's.

“No, silly. You aren't green and you don't live in a trash can.” She giggled, referring to a Sesame Street character.

Jonah grabbed his daughter close and tickled her ribs. Hauling her over his shoulder, her shrieks ringing down the hallway, he carried her to her bedroom. He paused in the doorway of the room he had painted pale pink the very day the ultrasound revealed they were having a girl.

He pretended like he was going to set Lily down on the floor, but at the last second, dropped her onto the mattress. This was their nightly routine, and one would think she'd tire of it. Jonah grinned when she laughed breathlessly, and asked for more.

“It's late. Time for a quick story before I send you off to dreamland.” He reached for the well-worn copy of
Goodnight Moon
in Lily's book basket.

“No, Daddy, read me the one about the fairies tonight. Please?” She pointed to a picture book with a group of brightly colored fairies on the front.

“Only because you're the cutest little girl I know.”

He'd long ago memorized the words to
Goodnight Moon
when Paige had read it to Lily. It was a safe book. This one he had to make up on the spot, and that scared the hell out of him. He took a deep breath and prayed that he told it the same way he had the last time.

It wouldn't be long now. She was a smart kid. Heck, she was almost four already. Jonah couldn't bear to see the look on his precious daughter's face when she learned his secret. Daddies were supposed to know everything.

Lily snuggled under the covers, clutching her stuffed friends. Jonah kissed his daughter goodnight and smiled as she waved goodbye with her teddy bear's paw.