Love Starts with Elle (38 page)

Is Tracey-Love in school or with you?”

“She’s in the van. Let’s get Rio and go.”

“Not so fast, now. Where to and is food involved?”

“It’s a surprise and food most definitely can be involved.”

“Can I have five minutes to shower?”

Heath’s eyes widened. “Five minutes? Marry me.”

“Okay,” she said in a lazy, sleepy voice.

His pulse thumped.
You’re messing with me, Garvey. And you don’t
even know it.

“See you in the van. Five minutes.”

At 7-Eleven, Heath gassed up and bought Elle a couple of sugary donut sticks at the check-out counter. He tossed them to her when he slipped behind the wheel. “I believe this fulfills the food requirement.”

She tore them open. “What, no coffee to dunk them in? Cheapskate.”

He grinned and turned the ignition. “Can’t set the bar too high. Won’t be able to live up to my stellar reputation. Which way to pick up Rio?”

“Yeah, got to protect that stellar rep. Turn left out of here, then the first right.”

After picking up Rio from Shirley’s, Heath drove out to St. Helena Island with the windows down, the radio blasting a Sara Evans’s tune, and the wind filling the van. At Cusabo Road, he eased off the gas and drove up to a pale-yellow clapboard house nestled among pines and live oaks.

He cut the engine and popped open his door. “Well, what do you think?”

Elle stepped out as Heath unbuckled the girls. “Are you buying this?”

“Yep.” Swinging TL up in his arms, he stood beside Elle, who gripped Rio’s hand. “My own St. Helena cottage. Nothing fancy, but when Marsha Downey brought me out here, I fell in love with it.”

Tracey-Love smacked her palms to the side of Heath’s face. “Are we going to live here, Daddy?”

He touched his nose to hers. “Yes, when we visit. Want to see inside?”

“Yeah.” She squirmed to join Rio and took Elle’s other hand. The three of them walked under the canopy of shade toward the front steps.

The scene tugged at Heath. It felt too much like a family. He was leaving, moving back, joining Rock’s battle. He’d already been reading case histories, gearing up for his first day while the novel languished.

But Elle, unlike Ava who charged his young-man lusts and challenged his ego, caused him to pioneer a new part of his soul, discovering an area of his heart reserved for her.

Was it possible to find first love a second time?

Heath conjured up images of them, aging and gray, sitting on the cottage porch chatting about the kids. She’d paint in a sunlit corner while he tapped out his next best seller. And when the moon rose to its phoenix above the circle of the earth, he’d take her in his arms and dance to the melody of their hearts.

“Heath. Hey, bubba, did you hear me? Are you going to add a porch?” Elle stood on the short board steps, smiling.

Sweat beaded on his brow. And he stood in the shade. “Um, yeah, add on. Sure. Hadn’t thought much about it, but why not?”

“This side of the house will get the good evening shade. A porch would be perfect.”

Beautiful, dude, you’re fantasizing about your twilight years with a
woman who’s fantasizing about front porches and the evening shade.

Elle stepped aside as he unlocked the door.

Inside, she spun around to see every angle. “I know why you fell in love with it.”

“The seller did the remodel.”

The house was prettier to him this afternoon than when he’d toured it with Marsha. The pine floor shone like glass in the light falling through the windows. The pinkish-beige walls cast warm hues, and Elle stood in the middle of it all.

“It’s so bright.” She walked to the far corner and peered out the window. “I could paint in here.”

“I’ll leave you the key. Use it any time.”

She swerved to face him, arms crossed. “It’s sinking in now, you leaving.”

“Yeah, I know.” He jingled his keys. Did he hear longing in her voice? “Elle, I want to—”

Tracey-Love burst into the great room with Rio chasing her. “Which room is mine, Daddy?”

“Any one but the big one.” Heath winked at Elle.

“Will you have time to visit?” she asked.

“Not at first. Maybe by spring.”

“By spring?” she echoed in a whisper.

Heath agreed—spring was a long way away. “So, how about the fireplace? It was redone. And in here, they gutted the kitchen, knocked out a wall to create the great room.”

“It’s a lovely place, Heath.” Elle leaned against the granite counter and for the first time since he’d met her, he felt the lingering heat of her gaze. “What were you going to say before, a few minutes ago?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to formulate—”

Tracey-Love and Rio must have gone wild. From the back of the house, doors slammed and banged, screams echoed down the hall.

“Hey, TL, Rio, you’re shaking the rafters. Come in here, we’ll go outside.”

A blonde and brunette torpedo-fired into the kitchen, bypassed Heath and Elle, and slam-bammed out the kitchen door to the backyard. “A swing!”

“Man, it’s like watching the Road Runner chase Speedy Gonzales.”

“She’s a long way from the scared girl who stuttered,” Elle said, walking to the back door, gazing out.

“You’re part of that reason, Elle. She needed a woman in her life.”

“She’s easy to love, Heath. Ava would be proud.”

“Somehow, I think she’s watching, cheering us on.” Heath pressed the screen-door handle. “Want to check out the backyard?”

Elle tipped her head. “Of course. I hear it has a swing.”

Under an ancient live oak, Rio and Tracey-Love attempted to climb into the tire swing, without success. Heath picked up one, then the other, threaded them through the tire hole, and gave them a gentle push. The breeze carried a scent of fall.

“The falls are nice in New York,” Elle said out of nowhere, reaching for the live oak’s swinging tendrils of Spanish moss. “Football season, crisp days, and cool nights.”

“And I’ll be holed up in an office, leaving too late to see the day, riding a dark subway home.”

“I could never do what you do.”

“I could never do what
you
do.”

“And what is that? I’m nothing special.”

“You can’t still believe that. What is it with beautiful, talented women and insecurity?”

“Comes with the territory?”

Heath laughed. “Run it out of town on a rail then. Elle, you spend five mornings a week sitting before the King of Kings. Worship is not a one-way street. As much as you want to give to Him, He longs to give to you. Stop resisting.”

Elle stood silently. Heath gave the tire a big shove. Had he overstepped his bounds?

“You’re right, Heath. I forget and focus on my weakness too much.”

“Don’t we all.” He wanted to segue into the interrupted kitchen conversation, but Rio erupted, screaming, followed by Tracey-Love, squealing. One of them wanted out of the swing and did something to the other, and in a split second the backyard was filled with screaming.

“All right, you two, stop. Rio, TL didn’t pull your hair on purpose.” Heath slipped the girls from the swing. “Where’re your dolls?”

“In my room.” TL crossed her arms with a pout at Rio.

“Run get them so we can go. Who wants food?”

Everyone.

“What do you want to do for dinner?” He grabbed at the end of Elle’s flying hair.

“I haven’t grilled out at all this summer.”

He raised a brow. “Burgers on the barbie?”

“Burgers on the barbie.”

Every once in a while, Elle glanced up from her art book open on her lap to watch Heath sand the last pointy edge off the angel. About an hour of daylight remained and he boasted finishing the carving before he left next week.

They’d had a fun day, the four of them—Heath, Elle, Tracey-Love, and Rio—seeing Heath’s new place, stopping by Publix for dinner fixings, refereeing spats between Tracey-Love and Rio.

With the aroma of grilled burgers still hanging in the air, Julianne and Danny stopped by. They ate the final two burger patties, finished up the barbeque chips, then called for Rio. “Time to go home.”

Tonight was the first phase of easing Rio toward the truth about Mr. Danny.

As they pulled away, Heath tossed TL into the bath, then into bed while Elle cleaned the kitchen.

Not ready to call it a night, Elle decided to flip through art books while Heath carved.

“Watch for splinters, McCord,” Elle hollered before going back to her book. Danny planned to commission a piece for his Hilton Head office and Elle wanted to get ideas about creating a piece with strong shadow and light.

“Ha, you just want to jab me with a needle again.” Heath stood back, surveying his work.

Elle set her book aside and strolled across the lawn in her bare feet. “Are you taking the angel with you?”

Heath wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “Certainly don’t want to haul it to Manhattan. I can leave it here or take it to my new place.”

Elle smoothed her palm over the high arch of the angel’s wing. “This may sound strange, but I believe there’s an angel standing guard over the prayer chapel. Can we take it over there?”

“Absolutely.”

TWENTY-NINE

To: CSweeney

From: Elle Garvey

Subject: Love?

Have crush on my tenant, Heath. But he leaves in a few days. Can hang on to my heart until then. He’s just so . . . real. I feel like he knows me better than I know myself. He’s widowed but dealing with it, honest with himself, with me. Sigh.

How are you?

Love, Elle

August 1942

Chet entered the log-shaped Quonset briefing hut with the rest of
the squadron leaders. The round-walled room contained a desk, four
short rows of chairs, and Colonel Chennault standing by a map of
the Aleutian Islands.

Taking a seat on the back row near the heater, Chet didn’t like
the swirl in his stomach. Something was up.

Lt. JasonWeb sat next to him, the collar of his mackinaw flipped
up and tucked around his neck. Winter temperatures iced the early
September days. “Now I know how a popsicle feels, thanks to Uncle
Sam.”

“Relax, Web, it’s still summer,” Chet said. “Wait until fall.”

When the minute hand exactly hit the hour, Chennault
launched into his briefing. “We’re advancing.”

Chet sat forward. Yeah, something was up. Just when Umnak
started to feel like home. They had movies in the evenings, electricity,
and decent chow.

Chennault slapped the map with his pointer. “Adak is two hundred
and fifty miles from the enemy on Kiska. We’re moving in next
door, boys.”

When the colonel finished the briefing, he tossed a small black
box at Chet. “Captain McCord, I think these major clusters will look
good on you.”

Chet caught his promotion in midair. “Thank you, sir.”

He’d write to Kelly tonight and tell her of his reward and
advancement, though he’d rather tell her he was coming home.

Nine o’clock. Heath shoved his laptop side, his legs burning. His shoulders were tight from concentrating so hard on the scene. This was his last night to work on the story before the business of Calloway & Gardner consumed him.

A little more than halfway through the book, he figured with some focused weekend evenings he could have it done in five or six months. If Rock didn’t work him to death.

But he felt at odds with himself, as if he’d driven too far down the road after taking the wrong exit. It’d be hard to get back.

Just the anticipation of leaving.

Wandering down the hall, stepping over the boxes he’d packed— most of it Tracey-Love’s new toys—he flipped on the hall light to peek in on his daughter. Her long legs and arms were sprawled across the bed, with tangled strands of hair flowing over her pillow.

Two days ago he’d dropped three hundred dollars updating her wardrobe when it seemed overnight her little jeans had turned into flood-waters and her shirts barely covered her belly.

She’d turn five in November and be another year closer to the dreaded puberty.