Love in a Fix (3 page)

“Would you like some more?” Lyndsey discreetly craned her neck and looked at his bowl. “There’s plenty left.”

“I couldn’t force another bite if I tried.” He rubbed his stomach, giving his approval of the meal.

“That’s a shame because I made a lemon icebox pie earlier.” 

His mouth salivated. “One of my favorites.”

“I remembered from when we used to have dinners together.” Her chin tucked against her chest, and she gazed at the table, as though embarrassed by the admission she’d stored that information.

It was no surprise to him. She’d always been a thoughtful and considerate host.

“In that case, I have to eat a slice.” His stomach groaned in disagreement with his mouth.

“I’ll brew some coffee to go with it, unless you’re in a hurry or need to leave.”

“No hurry. My night’s clear.” He saw her pale a shade, and he quickly backtracked to an excuse he’d used once already that night. “Not that I plan on staying long. I’m sure you don’t get much time by yourself to enjoy.”

“On the contrary, I was dreading the evening.” Raised brows gave her a pensive expression.

“Oh?”

“It’s true that I don’t get much time alone, but when I do, I hate it. It sounds good in theory, but in reality, it’s lonely and quiet.”

This open side of Lyndsey took him by surprise—an unnerving, but pleasant one. “I know what you mean. Grief is loudest in the silence.”

A moment of shared empathy shifted between them, altering the tone in the room. Coffee and dessert fell to the wayside.

“I almost cancelled again tonight.” Lyndsey’s gaze came back to him. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

His hand itched to reach out and pat her, let her know he understood, but instead, he wove his fingers together. “Me too.”

She cleared her throat. “The coffee…”

“Yes, the coffee.” He stood to an upright position and collected the dirty dishes. “Where do you want these?”

“The sink’s fine. I’ll run the dishwasher later.” After straightening the tablecloth, she stood as well and left the dining room.

Walking after her, Shep realized he hadn’t enjoyed a Saturday evening this much in years and the night was still young.

The last remnants of an Indian summer kept the early November evening at a comfortable temperature. Lyndsey sat on an Adirondack chair on her back porch. Four feet away, Shep excused himself inside for another cup of coffee for each of them, insisting he get this round. She relaxed into her seat, staring at the hill that crested then dipped to the end of her property line.

Her discomfort from earlier in the day had eased into a comfortable camaraderie with Shep, but inviting him to stay after dinner was the last thing she’d expected to do. When she thought about it, she hadn’t actually issued the invitation, but it had happened naturally, which took off the pressure.

Pressure for what?
She and Shep had been friends for a long time. Tonight’s dinner occurred merely to repay him for his generosity in repairing her oven. There was nothing more, nothing less.
Keep telling yourself that.
Did her initial anxiety tonight have a deeper meaning? Would she have reached the same level of nervousness if it was one of the girls coming over for dinner?
No.
That was an easy answer.

Then what did it mean? She didn’t have feelings for him beyond gratitude and friendship. Her heart remained broken from Mark’s death. The chance of falling in love again was zilch, the possibility of marrying again debatable. 

She’d thought of it before—very minimally—but only for Josh’s sake. He deserved a father, a male role model. Giving him that would prove tricky as she knew her heart would always belong to Mark. Few men would be willing to maintain a relationship or a marriage that was strictly for the benefit of her son. A relationship in which there’d be no intimacy, or love.

No expectations for something more. She didn’t have it to give.

Coming full circle on her thoughts, she decided the earlier apprehension arose from a fear of the unknown. Shep had been over since Mark’s death, but strictly for business purposes. He came, completed a task, left. Not to mention that she’d never cooked for any man except her husband. She’d been worried sharing dinner would resurrect painful memories. Maybe bittersweet would be a better word because although any memory of Mark hurt, the years they’d shared had been blessed with good times and great friends.

And while memories had surfaced, no grief accompanied them. Lyndsey could only credit that to Shep’s calming presence. Unlike many of her peers, Shep understood the experience of losing a spouse at a young age. She could talk about Mark openly and not disguise the sorrow she still felt.

She’d faced the unknown, and it had rewarded her with a pleasant evening.

The sliding door open, and she automatically turned her head, too used to acting in protective mom mode.

“Cream and sugar, right?” Shep handed her a ceramic cup with, coincidentally, his company’s logo on the side.

“Yes.” She took the beverage. “Thank you.”

With a tight grip on his mug, Shep settled into his chair. “There’s a cold front moving in next week. I’ll miss the warm weather.”

“It’s been nice while it lasted.” Cup raised, she sipped her coffee. “How low are the temps supposed to drop?”

“Mid-thirties.” His arm rested in a casual pose on the chair arm. “Probably will be the first time to use the heater since last winter.”

Drawing in a sigh that tried to escape, Lyndsey bit the inside of her cheek. The furnace needed oil, which cost money and lots of it.
Please let there be enough left in there to last until I can get some extra money
. She didn’t want to ask her in-laws for help, but if it came to it, she would. To keep Josh warm.

For a split second she forgot Shep sat beside her until she felt his eyes burning her with their scrutiny. When she looked at him, his head tilted to one side, his gaze fixed on her, his mouth turned down. She got the feeling he knew too much.

“Time to pull out the winter coats.” Forcing cheerfulness into her voice, she continued, “And gloves and scarves. I think this year, I’ll put a GPS tag on Josh’s for all the times he loses them.”

Shep smiled, made a sound just below the sentiment of a laugh. “My nephews are always losing things. Drives Risa crazy.”

“Risa is your sister, right?”

“Sister-in-law, but even before she married my brother, she was like family. Her parents lived next to mine, and we all grew up together until she and Jack left for college.” He drank from his cup, then set it back on the armrest. Resumed silence.

She’d hoped the conversation would be a distraction from whatever reason had him studying her moments ago. No such luck. The coat and bad joke were a non-starter, and his stare returned—less intense but more…concerned?

A lock of chestnut hair tumbled to his forehead, almost reached his brow, but his gaze didn’t falter, didn’t even blink. “How bad is it, Lyndsey?”

“Just a rough patch, that’s all. I’ll get through it.” She didn’t question how she knew her finances were the topic.

His lips pressed together with a slight frown. “I’m probably overstepping my bounds, but tell me the truth.”

“You’re right.” Anger, or was it wounded pride, shot through her veins like an IV of frigid water. She sat up, ramrod straight. “You’ve crossed a line that wasn’t yours to cross.”

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Will you hear me out?”

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” She flicked a glance at her watch. “It’s getting late and church starts early.”

A hissing whistle accompanied Shep’s sharp intake of breath. “Don’t shut me out—”

She placed a hand on the wide arm of each side of the chair, poised to stand. “I appreciate your help and generosity in fixing my oven, but that doesn’t give you the right to ask personal questions.”

“Mark asked me to look after you.” His eyes widened as if the admission stunned him.

Not nearly as much as it surprised her. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the chair. “What did you say?”

“Not long after Miranda died, Mark asked me to make sure you were okay, keep an eye on you, if anything ever happened to him.”

“He never told me.” Even as she sank back in the seat, she knew it was true. Not only because Shep wouldn’t lie, but because a memory surfaced. “It was the night you guys went fishing on the lake, wasn’t it? About six months after Miranda passed.”

“Yes.” Shep leaned further forward. “How’d you know?”

“When he came home the next day, he was somber. He didn’t talk much until we went to bed that night. For a long time, he lay there silent, but I knew he was still awake.” Salty tears burned her eyes. “Finally, he turned to me and said, ‘I’ll make sure you’re always taken care of, even if I die. That’s how much I love you.’ I wouldn’t let him say more because I couldn’t handle the thought of him dying. He was healthy, had just completed a yearly physical. How could I have known an accident would take him?”

“Most men don’t talk much about the things that really matter, but Mark was different.” Shep swallowed. “He was a good man, and he loved you deeply.”

Lyndsey bent her knees and pulled them to her chest. “I know.”

The sting of injured pride faded, healed by the balm of her late husband’s request. She’d been loved. Cherished. Mark wouldn’t want her to live like this. His request to Shep had been purposeful and genuine. If he trusted Shep to look after her, the least she could do is trust Shep with the truth of her financial situation.

She wrapped her arms around her legs, stared at the chipped polish on her toes. “Unless a miracle happens, I’m going to lose the house.”

“How much time do you have?” Sitting straight, Shep rested a hand behind his head.

“Not enough.” A brown hair, white tailed rabbit shot across the yard, and Lyndsey gave a fleeting thought to the childhood books she’d read many years ago in a simpler, more innocent time. “The bank’s gone out of their way to help, but there’s only so much they can do.”

“How much would it take to get you in the clear?”

She gave a number, putting both feet in the fire. “There you have it. You know how pathetic I am.”

“Don’t say that.” A hard glint shimmered in the center of cobalt eyes. He lowered his arm and clenched his fists. “You’re talking about my best friend’s wife and my wife’s best friend. I have it on good authority neither of them would appreciate that kind of talk.”

“I should have made it work somehow. Should’ve done something more.” The desperation in her voice mimicked the defeat in her heart. “But no matter what I do, it’s never enough to make ends meet. Mark’s life insurance barely paid funeral costs and I’ve been struggling since.”

Shep stood and walked to her. Positioned himself in front of her, pressed his hands to her shoulders. “Maybe God is telling you that you’re not meant to do it on your own. Maybe he wants you to see that you’re not alone. Mark is gone, but there are people here to help you.”

“I am Josh’s mother. He needs to see his mom will always take care of him.” She hunched her shoulders, hoping Shep would take a hint and move his hands. The heat from his touch seared through her lightweight cotton shirt.

“You’re smart Lyndsey, but prideful.”

“No, I’m not.” A bitter retort surfaced after the denial, but she swallowed the comment.

“Oh really?” A single eyebrow arched high on Shep’s forehead. “In that case, I’ll write you a check for the amount you owe.”

“Absolutely not.” Too late, she realized she’d fallen into his trap.

“Point proven.” He stepped away, finding the one deck board that creaked. A partial smile curled the right side of his mouth, and then he chuckled.

“Are you laughing at me?” Her projected indignation fell flat, made as much noise as a dandelion seed falling on a cotton pillow.

“No.” The sparkle in his eye said otherwise.

“Don’t get too cocky, just because you got me on this one thing.” Casting Shep a truce smile, she slid her legs down then rose to her feet. “Maybe I do cling too tightly to my pride, but I was raised to believe in personal responsibility.”

The smugness left his eyes. “Which is an admirable quality, but there’s nothing wrong with accepting help when it’s needed.”

Why did he have to make sense? The stubborn side of her hated to admit there was truth to his words, but the friend in her realized she’d been unfair. “I’m willing to concede there’s a possibility you’re correct again, but I still can’t accept your help.”

A low growl rumbled off his lips. “Why not, Lyndsey? You asked for a miracle, here it is.”

“It’s too much and then I would feel beholden to you. Besides, it wouldn’t be proper.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “How do you figure that?”

She sucked in a long breath before answering, caught a whiff of the hazelnut flavored coffee. “It’s not like you’re family or my husband. What would people say?”

“But I am a friend, one your husband trusted enough to look after you, and a brother in Christ. And doesn’t God command us to look after the widows and orphans?” His jaw tensed, eyes narrowed, demonstrating a side of him she’d never seen. “The real question is, are you more concerned with keeping your home or the gossip of biddies who have nothing better to do?”

The hurled accusation struck where it needed. She hugged herself, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. Where had the conversation gone awry? One second Shep was smiling, the next, angry—their amicable evening quickly deteriorated.

Would it be so wrong to accept his money? Had her staunch determination to maintain personal responsibility become a sin of pride?

Lifting her head, she met his gaze, hating what she saw.

Hurt.

She’d never intended to upset him. Not when he’d done so much for her, and undoubtedly more than she realized. In light of the information about Mark’s request, she was certain she’d uncover more of Shep’s
help
in the coming days and weeks.

“I’m sorry.” She uncrossed her arms and wiped her hands on her pants. “This is difficult for me, embarrassing for anyone to know the severity of my predicament. Your offer was exceedingly generous.”

“Is.” The hard edge left his face. “The offer still stands.”

A wood railing circled the deck. Once upon a time, she and Mark had planned to build a bench into it, but they’d never gotten around to the task. She walked to it, rested her hands on the redwood stained rail.

Memories of Mark lived everywhere on the property, so many precious moments she’d committed to her heart’s remembrance. Their life together began in this house—they’d shared countless firsts, within the walls and out. Her gaze drifted to the flat portion of the yard, to the area just before it dropped off. Even at night she could pinpoint the spot where they’d lain, stargazing, when she’d told him she was pregnant with Josh. 

Could she walk away from all of it, simply because she wouldn’t accept help? Was that fair to Josh? But it wasn’t the money for heating or lights—this was much more. She couldn’t accept that much from Shep, no matter how good a friend he was. And not only because of the flimsy excuse she had tossed at him earlier.

She’d never cared what others thought about her. Even if she did, she knew Shep would never let anyone know what he had done for her, if she let him give the money. He was the type of man who went behind the scenes for his good deeds, didn’t need the recognition.