Rich in Faith (Richness in Faith, Book 3) (9 page)

Expensive dress clothes I’m sure.

My jeans and blouse will recover from the wet.

I hope his clothes do the same.

They’re probably dry clean only.

His dress shoes look like they are in a foreign country as they traipse over the wet gravel lot. Specks of wet gravel dust quickly splatter across the black shine, but I doubt he even notices.

I wonder why I do.

Because I’m doing everything I can to keep from looking at his face. Looking into maybe more bricks being pushed out of the walls that are his eyes.

The more his eyes reveal, the more I become drawn into who he is and what his hurts are.

It’s evident to me Court is a man of hurts.

“It’s complicated.”

I know he’s talking to himself as well as to me. “I’m sure.”

“You’re so very different from her.”

I almost misstep as I walk. Me? This emotional upheaval he’s dealing with has to do with me?

Impossible.

We step onto a boardwalk. An almost deserted boardwalk. There are a couple of people hanging in the mist like we are. The wind is blowing, providing relief from the thick air, and I’m glad I have my hair pulled back.

Benches to our left beg to be sat on, but their seats, damp from the rain, stop any thoughts of sitting. Court’s dress shoes thump against the wood of the boardwalk, probably a sound not heard much here.

“When MaryLeigh died, I thought that was it for that part of my life. I didn’t want to marry again, didn’t want to fall in love again. I thought Bristol, Darling and I would have a great life together. Just us three.”

Now I wish I had something to hold onto. “You guys do have a great life together, don’t you?”
Did he say fall in love?

“I don’t know about it being great. I know I work a lot. I know the girls miss me, because I miss them.”

“You are running three businesses. It is three, isn’t it?”

He nods. “Yeah. Three.”

“That’s not easy. Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure the girls understand.”

“How can they when I barely understand it?”

At least we have left talking about his love life. Or the promise of him never having another one. Whew. That was a scary topic there for a minute. “On some level they know you have to work. Money doesn’t grow on trees.”

The breeze continues to blow, making his shirt ripple, accentuating his abs.

Now that I’ve seen them with my own eyes, I have no trouble imagining what’s inside his shirt.

“That call I received? It was from Susan.”

“Susan your secretary?” Dale had a secretary.

Dale.

I haven’t thought about him in a while.

Could it be? Am I healing from his crazy words which brought me heartbreak?

“She called to tell me Jared was on his way over.”

“So why did we have to leave?”

His expression looks pained at this point. So much so that I blurt out, “You don’t have to tell me. I’m being nosy.”

Scents of fried food from the faithful vendors mingles with the mist and Court’s angst as our steps slow. Court stops then turns to me.

“Jared has always wanted everything I have. And now it seems he wants my nanny.”

MINISTRY

“WHAT?” THIS MIST has turned into a light sprinkle, and I wipe my eyes.

“Susan said he spent half the time he was at work today singing your praises and talking about how beautiful you are and bragged how quickly he landed a date with you.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Perception is everything.” His tone is matter of fact.

And he’s right. I didn’t think or care how Jared viewed my acceptance. I might have to unaccept.

That would be awkward.

Awkward like standing here in the rain with Court.

“I’ll tell him I can’t go. I don’t want this to interfere with my job or the man who hired me.” I smile as I say this last part, even though I still don’t understand why Jared talking me up to Susan would cause such a reaction in Court.

Unless it’s a pattern Court is tired of. I decide to find out. “Do you always feel like you’re having to defend what’s yours? Not that I’m yours. Geez. That came out all wrong.” I turn away from him and slowly start walking back toward his SUV.

“Shelby, wait.”

The way he says my name makes me like my name. Or maybe I just like my name said with all the angst that’s brewing inside Court. But I do as he says.

I wait.

It’s only moments before he’s next to me. His face searches mine. “This is crazy, isn’t it? Us standing here in the rain like this?”

I laugh. “It is.”

“The Jared thing. I’m used to it. I’m used to him. What I’m not used to is the way I feel right now.”

“Meaning?”

“Jealous. For the first time in a long time, I feel jealous.”

Court’s revelation heats my face.

“I know, it’s crazy. You think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“Think on this. Let’s have dinner.”

I want to ask him if
he’s
asking me on a date, but I don’t dare. Date? Confession time? I’m confused.

But I’m there. “Okay.”

I’VE SHOWERED, MY hair is in big curlers that I brought on a whim and I’m standing in front of my closet wishing I had brought other clothes on a whim.

Bristol’s words play through my mind.
That’s ugly.

The ten-year-old was right and has impeccable taste in clothing, I’m now thinking.

Fun. What did I bring that is fun?

Then I pull a cease-fire on all these thoughts. This whole dinner thing is crazy anyway. Court probably asked me to dinner simply to make Jared angry.

Great.

I’ve come six-hundred-plus miles to escape heartbreak only to become a pawn in a power struggle between two best friends.

In a move that I know is defiant, I pull out a plain black blouse and a gray pair of slacks. Pulling everything on and buttoning everything up I look in the mirror.

Perfect.

Absolutely nothing sexy or flirty with this outfit.

I pull the curlers out of my hair, embarrassed that I even put them in to begin with. Brushing as hard as I can, I finally put my hair up in a bun when I realize a couple of strands have escaped, proof that the curls refuse to be totally tamed.

Pawn indeed.

Slipping my feet into black ballet flats, I think about toning down my makeup, but the clock reveals I don’t have time.

I gaze into the full-length mirror, satisfied with my attire and look. If Court was looking for a sexy date to make Jared mad, he’s going to be disappointed.

If he asked me out for me, well, this is who I am.

Or rather, who the world thinks I am.

COURT ISN’T IN the kitchen. I look into the living room, and he’s not there either.

Glancing at my phone I see it’s six o’clock. The time he said we would leave. My soft-soled shoes don’t make any noise as I walk to the office. The door is open, so I peek in. Court is staring at his desk with a perplexed expression on his face.

He’s holding the stack of papers he had printed earlier.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

Setting the papers down on the desk, he starts toward the door. “Yes. I thought I remembered leaving the papers on the left side of the desk, but I guess not.”

I can tell he’s talking more to himself than he is to me, but that doesn’t stop me from responding. “You did. They were right by your mouse.”

“That’s what I thought. But when I came in here just now they were sitting here.”

He points to where the papers are sitting.

“That’s weird.” It’s then I notice Court’s attire. He’s in a beige, loose button-up shirt, that’s got a wrinkled-on-purpose look, brown shorts, and brown slip-on shoes.

Totally casual.

And as I’m checking out his sportswear, he’s checking out my non-sportswear.

Tilting his head to the right with a glimpse of his smile emerging, he nods. “I like the outfit. Very classy. But since the weather has pushed out, I thought we might have dinner on the boat. My bad. Sorry I didn’t mention that when I asked. If that’s not to your liking we can do something else.”

I run my hand down my slack-clad leg. “No. Dinner on a boat sounds fun. I’ll, uh, I’ll go change. Be right back.”

Quickly scanning my wardrobe through my mind, I’m wondering what I brought that would work for this dinner. I did bring a couple of pair of shorts, so I pull them out. I slip on the denim pair and a white tank top, then pull on a long-sleeved white sheer cover up. I also kick off the ballet flats to slip my feet into a worn pair of flip-flops.

As I start to walk out of the room, I spy my sunglasses on the dresser. Definitely will need these now that the sun is out. I take my hair out of its bun, and run my fingers through the loose waves. I push my sunglasses on like a headband and glance in the mirror.

Ready.

Court is waiting for me as I enter the kitchen.

“Much better boat-wear. You also look more comfortable.”

I do feel more comfortable, but he’s not supposed to notice that. Why does Court pick up on vibes I don’t want to give out? “How can one not be comfortable in slouchy clothes?”

“Slouchy? I like that word. Come on, slouch.”

I follow him to his SUV wondering what I’m really doing.

WHEN HE SAID dinner on a boat, he meant dinner on a boat. I thought casual dinner cruise or something along those lines. But no, we picked up dinner from a local grocer, and we are on his boat.

It’s more like a yacht. Small yacht if there is such a thing.

But we aren’t going anywhere.

We are going to sit in his boat, in the slip.

This seems to be the thing to do on a Friday night in Hampton Cove.

The marina is about a ten-minute drive from the grocery store. After parking his SUV, he takes a picnic basket out of the back. We each carry a couple of bags of food, and I follow him as we make our way down the wooden dock to his boat.

He nods to a couple of people as we walk. By the surprised looks on their faces, I wonder how long it’s been since he’s done this.

Or who he has done this with last.

Music drifts from different boats, from classic rock songs to classical instrumentals. White party lights drape across some of the bigger boats.

Strands of untamed hair keep flying in my face, bringing images of Bristol and Darling to mind.

We sit on the top level of the boat. The view is amazing, enabling us to see everything from the endless water to the other boats. Court’s shirt billows as he pulls out two wine glasses from the picnic basket. He digs through a compartment and comes up with a corkscrew.

“One glass of Pinot Noir coming up.”

He hands me the glasses as he uncorks the wine. Unceremoniously, he pours the wine, then sets the bottle in a wine bucket.

He holds his glass up in a toasting position, and I follow suit. As our glasses touch I can’t help notice a haunted look in his eyes. The still-bright sky, summer breeze, and bay-water scent can’t erase the sadness that this man has inside of him.

“To a night of forgetting everything but the here and now,” he toasts.

Our gaze doesn’t break as we each sip our wine. In as much as I’m reading what he’s feeling, I wonder what, if anything, he thinks about me? Can he see, through my eyes, the war raging inside of me?

Frankly, I’m tired of my inner battle. Tired of thinking about heartbreak and losing the life I’d known for so long. What could be the harm in letting it all go for one evening?

One evening with a guy who doesn’t know anything about me, really. Who isn’t pressuring me to live up to standards he has set for his life. The toast he made is like a balm to my heart. Maybe I can forget for one evening.

It’s certainly worth a try.

I settle onto the bench seat. “This is nice. I’ve never had dinner on a boat, in a slip at a dock.”

“As you can see, Friday nights are hopping at the marina. I bring the girls out here sometimes. They love it. Although they do get restless quickly. It’s a fast dinner night when they are here.”

I laugh. “I can imagine.”

I also imagine their hair flying all over the place. I’m sure Crystal has tamed that beast by now.

Having put our food into a cooler, Court joins me on the seat. There’s plenty of room for more than two people, but he chooses to sit closer to me, rather than farther away. His knee almost brushes mine, and I try not to think about his body touching mine.

This dinner seems too intimate for a man trying to make his friend mad. It also seems too intimate for a man who doesn’t know a woman very well. How about too intimate for a man who’s still mourning the loss of his wife?

I’m not sure what I will say if he starts in about how he and MaryLeigh used to come here. Maybe he doesn’t have anyone to talk to about his loss?

“I don’t take this boat out nearly enough.” Court taps the back of the boat.

“What’s stopping you? Time?”

He twirls his wine glass between his thumb and forefinger. “Time, memories, any number of things.”

“I understand.”

“Maybe fear.”

Surprised by his admission, I take a sip of the wine. “Fear? What could you be afraid of?”

“You say
you
like I’m a different species from the rest of the world.”

I place my hand on my forehead. “You know what I mean.”

“This thing with my dad scared me. Jolted me back to life, in a way.”

“Back to life?”

“It’s like nothing mattered to me for a long time. And that’s not good. It’s like I was afraid of living. Really living.”

For a long time translates into when MaryLeigh died. I know this. “Sometimes we need a kick-start.”

He looks at me. “Did you need a kick-start? Is that why you came south, on a whim, at the last minute, to be a nanny, something which you had never done before?”

The fading sun seems much warmer now that it had a few minutes ago. I brush my blowing hair away from my eyes, grateful for the respite it gives me before answering. “If I’m honest, yes.”

“Funny, isn’t it, how things work out. Here we are, sitting on this boat, you and me, strangers except for some professional knowledge we have of each other, yet to me, this feels natural. Not strained or trying in any way.”

“Like we don’t have to put on airs, pretend we’re feeling one way when we’re not. Pretend we’re somebody we’re not.” I hope I say the words convincingly as I sip my wine.

“You have no expectations of me.”

“Except to give me a paycheck.”

He wants to smile, I can tell, but it doesn’t quite happen. He does continue to look at me though.

Searching.

His eyes are still guarded, but softer.

“Neighbor! Hi.”

Court and I both look toward the dock. I see the guy that nodded to me as I was running. He’s holding hands with a smiling blonde woman, who despite a scar running across her cheek, is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.

“Stephen, isn’t it?” Court says.

“It is. And this is my wife, Jenny.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jenny’s gaze focuses on me.

Court catches on. “This is Shelby. My children’s nanny.”

“Hi,” I say as both Stephen and Jenny smile like he’s telling the biggest lie ever. And I can’t blame them for thinking he’s lying. I’m draped across the bench seat of this boat, wine glass in hand.

Working hard for the money, as the song goes. “Nice to meet you.” I nod toward Stephen. “I saw you running the other morning.”

He nods, recognition on his face. “Yes. The running junkies get out early.”

“Not early enough,” I say. “I started leaving an hour earlier. This heat is brutal.”

“I guess I’m used to it.”