Saving Sara (Redemption #1) (8 page)

14.

J
ake hadn’t stayed long, thank goodness.

They’d had coffee on the back deck overlooking the garden that sloped away toward the back of the property. Made small talk mostly. Trivial stuff about the town and the weather.

Sara liked that he hadn’t delved further. He hadn’t asked about Lucy or her old job or her past. While curiosity had urged her to ask him about why he’d taken custody of Olly, and how he could take a few months off work to care for him, she hadn’t.

If she wasn’t willing to talk about her life, why should she expect that of him?

It had been oddly comfortable, sitting with him on the back porch. While their chatter had been inconsequential, his presence made her feel safe, in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

She didn’t need a guy to complete her life. Wouldn’t go down the marriage path again. But for a brief time, allowing Jake’s deep voice to wash over her, savoring his spontaneous laughter, she’d felt good having a man around.

As for the way he’d comforted her when she’d broken down over Olly’s card, that had felt beyond good. She’d been mortified at first, but when her sobs had petered out, she’d become more aware of something more disturbing.

How good it felt to have a guy hold her.

His body had been hard. Strong. Muscular. And as he’d pulled away, she was pretty sure she felt his erection pressed against her hip.

Surprisingly, her body had reacted on a visceral level, a low persistent throb reminding her that while her head and heart weren’t interested in anything remotely sexual, her body was having a hard time sticking with the program.

Ignoring the way her pulse raced at the memory of being pressed against him, she headed back inside, rinsed the coffee cups and stacked them on the sideboard.

Her gaze fell on Olly’s card and she was instantly ashamed.

Olly was a kid and she’d hurt him. Not intentionally, but if he felt like he was responsible for making her sad and had made an apology card, she’d done wrong by him.

She had to get a better grip on her emotions. Had to be able to control her grief. It had been over twelve months since Lucy had gone and while she’d never get over it, she had to ensure that her emotional fragility didn’t impact those around her. Especially other kids.

Maybe she’d done the wrong thing, deliberately shunning anything to do with children. And with Olly next door for the next few months, she couldn’t keep avoiding him.

As she opened the card and glimpsed the sea pictures he’d drawn, her heart contracted. While the drawings were crude and rudimentary, he’d taken his time, painstakingly choosing colors and spacing.

He’d done this for her.

To cheer her up. To make her feel better. To apologize.

That was exactly what she would do for him.

Taking a seat at the table, she propped the open card against the box, chose a piece of beech wood and fired up her tool.

She hadn’t touched it since replicating the photo of Lucy. It had been emotionally draining yet exhilarating to discover she could create again, but she’d wanted to treasure her first pyrography piece in years before continuing. So she’d hung it over the mirror in her bedroom, ensuring it was the first thing she saw every morning and the last thing each night.

Etching Olly’s drawings into the beech would make a great present and hopefully reassure him that he hadn’t upset her. No kid deserved to feel bad or to blame for an adult’s pain.

It took an hour to complete and when she’d finished the last fin on the shark, Sara sat back and eyed her work critically. She’d always been able to do that, even as a teen—objectively assess and find room for improvement.

This piece, like the one she’d done of Lucy, appeared flawless. Better than anything she’d ever done before. But how was that possible, when she hadn’t picked up a tool or touched a piece of wood creatively for so many years?

She should be rusty, tentative. Instead, when she scorched designs into the wood now, it felt natural, like she should’ve been doing this her entire life.

She found herself smiling at the thought of Greg trying to accept this as her career in the past. He’d been so driven to make partner at his firm and so proud to have a wife equally as motivated in the corporate world.

Not that Sara hadn’t enjoyed her work. She had. But it was nothing compared to the rightness she felt when she etched strokes into wood.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to worry about Greg’s opinions
anymore
. The divorce papers had been finalized. They were no
longer
a couple, officially.

She should’ve been devastated. Disheartened. Yet all she felt was bone-deep sorrow that they hadn’t been able to make their
marriage
work. In the end, Lucy had been the proverbial glue that held their marriage together and when she’d died, they had fallen apart.

Selling their home had been gut-wrenching, however, because it was where she’d brought Lucy home from the hospital, where they’d shared so many memories. Odd that Greg hadn’t put up even a token protest when she’d moved out not long after the funeral, yet he’d made a last-ditch effort to save the marriage before the divorce went through.

He’d done as she’d asked and hadn’t contacted her following that last videoconference call. It had saddened her, the way he’d asked her to come back more because they were a good “fit” than anything else.

He hadn’t said he’d missed her or loved her or any other sentimental declarations. For him, having a second chance for their marriage would’ve been about appearances, maybe even prestige at his firm.

Whatever his rationale, she’d put it behind her. For a marriage that had held so much promise at the start, it had ended with an unimpressive fizzle.

But she didn’t want to think about that now. She couldn’t wait to see Olly’s reaction when he saw his drawings embossed onto the beech wood. However, when she stood and picked up the piece, a momentary panic flared to life, fluttering in her chest like a caged bird.

Did she really want to seek out contact with a child? To potentially be exposed to that unique, addictive smell kids had? To hear his adorable chatter? To maybe receive a thank-you hug?

A hug from a child would undo her completely. Then again, hadn’t she come to the realization after Jake left that she needed to get a grip and better handle her emotions around other people?

“You can do this,” she muttered, cradling the piece in her hands as she headed for the door.

She didn’t have to stay. She would deliver her work to Olly as a peace offering and cite some excuse to make a quick escape.

But that turned to crap when Olly spied her walking up Cilla’s front path, flung open the door, raced out to meet her, and flung his arms around her waist.

She couldn’t breathe, the memory of Lucy doing the same when she picked her up from preschool every day making her lungs seize.

But Sara took deep, steadying breaths, forcing the air down into her lungs. She wouldn’t disappoint this child again. It wouldn’t be right.

He squeezed tight for a second before stepping back. “Sara, did you like my card? Wasn’t that shark the best ever? Are you happy now?” The questions tumbled out of Olly’s mouth one after another and she swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a smile.

“The card was amazing, Olly, thank you.” She held out the wood to him. “I loved it so much that I made something for you in return.”

Olly’s eyes widened to saucer-like proportions as he took the wood and studied it. “Those are my pictures. In the wood. Wow!” He jumped up and down on the spot, clutching the wood tight. “It’s awesome! How did you do it?”

“It’s called pyrography, where I use a special instrument to burn patterns into wood.”

He traced the shark with his fingertip before fixing his pleading gaze on her. “Can I watch you do it one day? Pretty please?”

“Artists don’t like being watched while they create,” Jake said, stepping out onto the front porch, the impact of seeing him again more devastating than Sara had imagined.

It had little to do with his appearance, though the plain navy polo outlining his chest and the faded denim highlighting his legs weren’t half bad. It had more to do with his eyes and the way he looked at her. Intense. Compelling. Mesmerizing.

Olly’s face fell and the dislike in the glare he shot Jake made her wonder again about their relationship.

“This really is awesome,” Olly said, brandishing the wood at her. “Thanks, Sara.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, relieved when Olly clutched his present and ran inside.

A relief that was short-lived when she realized that left her alone with Jake.

“That was a really great thing you did,” he said, and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” She shrugged, his scrutiny making her uncomfortable. “The least I could do after inadvertently making him feel bad because he thought he made me sad.”

Jake nodded, thoughtful. “He’s intuitive for his age.”

“How old is he?”

“Six going on sixty.”

They smiled in mutual understanding of what it was like to deal with precocious kids, an unexpected bonding moment that made Sara begin to like Jake more, even though she didn’t want to.

“My sister Rose is going through a hard time at the moment so I’m looking after him.” His declaration sounded almost defiant, like he expected her to judge him in some way and find him lacking.

“Have you two always been close?”

“Me and Olly, you mean?”

She nodded, though she was curious about his sister too, and about what was so terrible as to drag a mom away from her kid. Nothing had kept her away from Lucy. Except work on the odd occasion.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes but she wouldn’t let them fall. Not this time. She had to toughen up. She had to.

Jake stared at her a moment longer than polite, as if he could almost see her anguish and the inner struggle she faced. Then he continued. “Rose and I have always been close so I try to be around for her and Olly when they need me.”

There was a host of untold stories behind that one sentence. Jake was close to his sister, but only when she needed him? What about the other times? Did he keep his distance or did Rose not want him around? So many questions she had no right knowing the answers to.

“Cilla’s husband and our dad were brothers. She’s always been a good aunt.” His brows knitted in consternation. “Barely batted an eyelid when I called her up after eighteen years and asked if I could visit.”

“Eighteen years?”

Sheepish, Jake nodded. “Our family’s pretty dysfunctional. Not Cilla’s fault. More my dad’s. When Cilla’s husband killed himself, my dad blamed her and cut all ties.” He glanced over his shoulder at the house, as if he expected her to materialize behind him. “Considering my mom died when I was eight, she was the only female relative we had and she was amazing. Still is.”

As Sara absorbed the glut of info she hadn’t been expecting, Jake blew out a breath.

“Sorry. No idea why I told you all that.”

“Sometimes it helps to talk about stuff,” she said, wishing she could take her own advice.

After Lucy died, she’d shunned any suggestion of therapy or grief counselling. She hadn’t talked to Greg about her feelings,
or to
anyone for that matter. Which probably explained why her emotions were still on a hair-trigger over twelve months later.

As if he could read her mind, his enigmatic stare bore into her. “Yeah, it can help, if you talk to the right person.”

Flattered that he was insinuating he felt comfortable talking to her, she blurted, “My door’s always open if you want to talk anytime.” Then second-guessed her impulsive invitation the second she’d issued it. Damn, why had she said that? Her stomach clenched at the thought of being his confidante when she had enough angst of her own to deal with.

“Likewise,” he said, a moment before they heard a crash and the startled wail of a kid who has broken something. “Though it’s kinda busy around here, so let’s make it your place, not mine.”

He hadn’t made it sound remotely sexy but the cliché “Your place or mine?” immediately leaped into Sara’s conscious and refused to budge.

“Sure,” she said, confident he wouldn’t take her up on the offer. What sort of guy wanted to unburden himself to a virtual stranger, especially a woman who’d already blubbered on him?

“Thanks again,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I better go see what that was and whether I can salvage it before Cilla gets home.”

She nodded and retraced her steps down the path, strangely discombobulated. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed why. Jake hadn’t moved from the top step as he watched her walk away.

With a quick wave, she continued down the path, all too aware of his heated gaze burning into her back.

She should never have issued that invitation for him to come chat anytime.

Worse, she shouldn’t be looking forward to the prospect so d
arn mu
ch.

15.

J
ake waited until Sara had reached the end of the drive and turned toward her place before heading inside.

He should’ve investigated the cause of that crash sooner but he hadn’t heard any further distressed cries from Olly. And he hadn’t been able to resist watching Sara’s hips sway in those shorts.

Damn, that woman was hot.

Although she’d issued him an open invitation to drop by
anytime
, he’d be stupid to take her up on it, considering the way he’d blurted all that stuff about his family.

One minute she’d been asking about him and Olly, the next he was giving her an abbreviated version of Mathieson’s Sordid Tales.

Yeah, like a woman he fancied wanted to hear more about his sad past.

He shook his head, trying to eradicate the vision of Sara’s ass in those shorts. It didn’t work and he sighed as he stepped into the hallway and saw Olly’s handiwork.

He’d knocked one of Cilla’s potpourri containers off a table. Thankfully, it was made of metal, but its contents lay scattered across the floor.

Olly was nowhere to be seen.

“Olly,” he called out. “Come clean up, please.”

“Don’t want to,” a voice said, from behind the sofa in the adjacent room.

Sensing he was in for a battle, Jake entered the living room and found Olly crouched behind the sofa, hugging his knees to his chest.

Jake squatted to his level. “Olly, you made that mess; you need to clean it up.”

“No.” Olly thrust his chin up, defiance darkening his eyes to black.

Completely out of his depth when it came to disciplining kids, Jake continued. “It’s not fair on Aunt Cilla to come home and find that mess. Not when she’s letting us stay here.”

Jake only just heard Olly mutter, “I wanna go home.”

“We can’t do that for now, buddy, so why don’t you come he
lp me—”

“I’m not your buddy!” Olly scrambled to his feet and backed away. “Sara is, but you won’t let me go watch her do that fire
burning
stuff.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about.

“We can talk about that another time but for now, you need to tackle that mess.”

Olly rolled his eyes. “Big people always say that when they don’t want to tell the truth.” He mimicked, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Jake bit back a smile. This kid really was smart.

“How about you help me clean up and then we’ll find a really good spot for your present from Sara?”

Jake hoped bribery would work because he was plain out of options on how to coerce Olly into cleaning up.

Interest sparked in Olly’s eyes. “Can I keep it in my room?”

Jake nodded. “If you want.”

“Fine,” Olly spat out, making it sound far from fine.

But at least the kid followed him back to the hallway and
carefully
swept the dried rose petals and orange peel into a bag, then put it in the bin outside.

Jake had no idea why Olly blew hot and cold with him. He’d thought they’d been making progress, then an incident like this happened and they were back to square one.

Sure, the kid must’ve been scared, unsure how Jake would react to his knocking over one of Cilla’s ornaments, but Jake had given him no reason to fear him. And he couldn’t see Rose being the type of mom to rant and rave and punish.

So why was Olly okay with Cilla and not him? Even Sara, whom Olly hardly knew, seemed to have more success relating to his nephew than he did.

“Can I take this to my room now?” Olly clutched Sara’s gift to his chest, glaring at Jake as if he would more than likely steal it.

“Sure, bud—” Jake bit back calling him
buddy
. He didn’t want to ruin their tentative truce before it had begun. “Though perhaps Aunt Cilla might like to see it before you do?”

“Aunt Cilla might like to see what?” she called out from the kitchen and Jake breathed out a sigh of relief.

At last, someone who could handle Olly better than he could.

“Aunt Cilla, I’ve got a surprise to show you,” Olly bellowed, all but skipping to the kitchen when a moment ago, he’d been the epitome of doom.

“Kids,” Jake muttered, and set off after him. He found Cilla hanging her coat on the hook by the back door as she laughed at Olly, who was hopping excitedly from one foot to the other and brandishing the wood from side to side.

“Check this out,” Olly said, finally coming to a stop when Cilla laid a hand on his shoulder. “I made a card for Sara, because I made her sad. Then she copied my card onto this wood.” Olly turned adoring eyes to Cilla and handed her the picture. “Isn’t it the coolest?”

Cilla’s eyebrows rose as she studied the wood. “It sure is,” she said, and then frowned as Olly snatched it back out of her hands.

“That’s not polite,” she said, her firm tone brooking no
argument
.

To Jake’s surprise, Olly nodded meekly and said, “Sorry.”

Jake had no idea how his aunt did it, but her skills as a child whisperer far exceeded his.

“Olly, why don’t you go put that in your room?” Jake said,
bracing
for a potential rebuttal.

Thankfully, Olly shrugged. “Okay,” he said, and ran from the kitchen with his prized possession.

Cilla eyed him speculatively. “Sounds like you’ve had a b
usy day.”

“Yeah. Want a coffee?”

“No thanks. Drank my fill at the hospital.” She toed off her shoes and sank into a chair. “But I’d kill for a brownie.”

“Coming right up.” Jake raided her brownie stash, piling
several
on a plate, and placing it on the table. “How did your visit at the hospital go?”

“Good.” To his surprise, she blushed. “Actually, I want to talk to you about something, but first tell me about Sara and that amazing piece of art.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he said, sitting alongside his aunt. “When I visited earlier to drop off Olly’s card I saw her work. It’s incredible.”

“She invited you in?”

“Yeah, once I ditched my prison stripes,” he said, and she chuckled at his dry response. “The house is filled with artwork like that, pieces that she did years ago. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

Cilla shrugged. “Issy and I were friends, but the kind of neighbors who kept to ourselves, you know? We talked a lot over the fence, if we were gardening, but didn’t invite each other in.”

“I get it.” Jake valued his privacy too. Fallout from not being able to invite friends home as a kid because of the mood his father might be in. “Anyway, her artwork is incredible. It belongs in a show.”

“Does it now?” Cilla tapped her bottom lip, deep in thought. “It may tie in nicely with what I need to ask you.”

Curious, he snaffled a brownie. “What’s that?”

“There’s a sick child at the hospital. Leukemia.” Sadness clouded her eyes. “Sergio’s the eldest of four kids and his parents don’t have a lot of money, so I’m putting together a mini-fair to raise funds for him.”

Impressed by his aunt’s thoughtfulness, he said, “That’s great. What can I do?”

“I’ll need someone mechanical-minded to sort out the logistics. Placement of the stalls. Putting them all together. The general layout, that kind of thing. You up for it?”

“Absolutely.” It would give him something to do so he wasn’t spending every waking hour pondering his fraught relationship with Olly, worrying about Rose or, his latest mind-muddler, obsessing over Sara. “Whatever you need, let me know.”

“Thanks.” Cilla patted his hand. “It’ll be good for you, getting out and about.”

The hint of judgment in her tone surprised him. “Olly and I have been out exploring this week.”

“I meant you.” She gestured at the window. “It’s been good, seeing you two spend time together outside most days, but you need some time to yourself. Head into town. Explore. Socialize.” She pointed upstairs. “I’ll look after Olly whenever you want.”

“He’s my responsibility,” Jake said, knowing it sounded lame but not wanting to reveal his real reason for staying close to home.

He just wasn’t up to facing people.

For the last six months, he’d been holed up in his apartment. Ordering take-out, watching movies, surfing the Internet and avoiding contact with people.

Because every time he saw anyone having fun with their friends or family, he remembered how he’d robbed eighty-nine people of having the same kind of fun.

“You don’t have to be with the boy twenty-four-seven,” Cilla said, staring at him with open curiosity. “You need to get out. It’s healthy.”

“Sara said I can pop by anytime, so maybe I’ll go there to ‘get out’.” He made air quotes with his fingers.

Cilla barked out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s what you need. To spend time with a woman who’s as much of a hermit as you are.”

“Didn’t you just say you’d never been inside your friend’s house in . . . how many years?”

“Touché,” Cilla said. “Actually, I might pop next door and have a quick word with Sara.”

“Yeah?”

Cilla nodded. “Maybe she’d consider selling some of her artwork at the fair.”

“Good idea.” Because, Jake thought, as one of the fair’s newly appointed helpers, it would give him a legitimate excuse to see Sara again. Easier than taking her up on her invitation and feeling awkward if she regretted issuing it in the first place. “I think it would do her good to get involved in something. To have a goal.”

Cilla pointed to the stove. “Pot. Meet kettle.”

Jake grinned. “I have a goal. Helping with the fair.” His first goal in a long time. His grin faded. “Seriously, I think she needs it. She’s emotionally fragile.”

“Did she tell you about her child’s death?”

He nodded. “Not the details, but she did mention it. Considering how she freaked out in front of Olly, guess she felt like she owed me some kind of explanation.”

“Yet she made an effort to come over and see him?” Cilla pushed her brownie plate away. “That’s progress in itself for someone who must find being around kids incredibly painful.”

“Olly likes her,” Jake said, wondering if he was the only person in Olly’s small world the kid didn’t like. “Maybe it would do them good to spend some time together?”

“Whoa.” Cilla held up her hands. “Don’t go pushing them together. Give her time. As for Olly . . .” Cilla trailed off, appearing reluctant to continue.

“What about him?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re too soft on the boy.” Cilla steepled her fingers and rested them in her lap. “He needs boundaries. A male role model to look up to.” Sadness downturned the corners of her mouth. “I don’t know much about Rose’s situation and how she’s brought the boy up, but he’s a good kid. He’s respectful. He knows right from wrong. And he’s affectionate. But having a strong man he can look up to is important for boys h
is age.”

“Are you saying I haven’t been around enough for him to resp
ect me?”

Jake hated how defensive he sounded. He knew Cilla was trying to help, and God knew he needed it, but he could barely keep it together these days. How the hell could he be the role model Olly needed?

“That’s not what I’m saying.” She shook her head. “I just see the two of you around each other. At times, it’s beautiful to watch. Others, it’s like you’re overcompensating by giving him a free rein.” She tapped her temple. “Kids are smart. They’re masters at manipulation and if Olly learns how to push your buttons, he’ll do it.”

Feeling increasingly incompetent, he sighed. “Guess I’m trying too hard. I see how he is with you, even Sara, who he hardly knows, and he’s natural and spontaneous.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the headache that was building. “With me, it feels stilted. One minute he’s fine, the next he hates me.” He eyeballed his aunt, wondering if she could see the silent plea for help in his eyes. “I’m lost.”

“You’re doing a great job.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Just don’t be afraid to be tough. Set barriers. Don’t be a pushover.”

She glanced away, stared out the window, as if lost in a memory. “Trust me, I wish I’d known all this with Tam.”

Her bottom lip wobbled a fraction before pressing against the other, compressing in a thin line, effectively stopping him from asking any more.

“Thanks. I’ll take your advice on board.” He leaned across to kiss her cheek. “When do you want me to get started on the fair?”

Cilla took another moment to compose herself before turning back to face him. “I made a stack of notes while I was having coffee at the hospital. The folder’s in my bag. I’ll get it for you, then I’ll go see Sara.”

“Okay.”

But as Cilla gathered her documentation and gave it to him, he couldn’t help but wish he was the one seeing Sara again.