The Heart Remembers (12 page)

“Well, it would be a shame to walk away from something good just because you're afraid. And
that's true for everything—from a show to a relationship. Now, suppose I get off my soapbox and change the subject to something less heavy. Tell me about the girls. How are they adjusting?”

The rest of the lunch passed in companionable conversation. But Philip's words kept replaying in her mind. Was her fear protecting her—or keeping her from something good, as he had suggested?

Unfortunately, Maggie didn't know.

 

“Pop! Over here!”

Jake turned at the sound of the familiar voice and smiled at Maggie.

“She's over there, Dad.” He laid one hand on Howard's shoulder and gestured toward the church booth with the other.

“Well, let's go say hello.”

Jake was more than happy to comply. He hadn't seen enough of Maggie these past two weeks, not since the girls left. September was a popular month at the inn, and she was busier than ever, without the girls to help. But no more busy than him. He had been a bit overwhelmed by the workload at school and had been left with almost no free time. It was not a situation he was pleased about, but until he adjusted to school and her business slowed down for the winter, there didn't seem to be much he could do about it. He had to take whatever limited time he could get with her. And accompanying his father to
the church fair—especially knowing Maggie was working at the booth—was as good an excuse as any to take a break from correcting papers.

He gave her a lazy smile as they approached. “Hi, Maggie.”

A flush rose on her cheeks at his smoky, intimate tone. “Hello, Jake.” She moistened her lips, then pulled her gaze from his and turned her attention to Howard. “Hi, Pop.”

“Hi, Maggie. How's business?”

“That's what I wanted to tell you. All of the things you made sold already!”

“Really?”

“Yes. And not only that, Andrew Phillips—he owns the local craft alliance—wants to talk to you.

They'd like to take some of your things on consignment, and he was even interested in having you teach a class.”

Howard's eyes lit up. “He liked my work that much?”

“Absolutely. He said…wait, there he is over there. Andrew!” She waved at a tall, spare young man with longish hair and gestured for him to join them. He strolled over, and she made the introductions.

“I told Howard you were interested in talking with him,” Maggie explained.

“Yes, I am. Could you spare me a few minutes now? Maybe have a cup of coffee or something?”

Howard was beaming. “Sure, sure. That is, if my son doesn't mind waiting.” He glanced at Jake.

Jake propped his shoulder against the corner of Maggie's booth and folded his arms across his chest. “Not at all. Take your time, Dad.”

He watched the two men wander off toward the refreshment area, then turned to Maggie with a smile and shook his head. “Now that, Ms. Fitzgerald, is a miracle. Did you see the way my dad's face lit up?”

She smiled. “Yes. It makes all the difference in the world when a person believes they have something to contribute. Pop just needs to feel like he can still do something worthwhile.”

“Thanks to you, he does.”

Maggie shook her head. “No. You were the one who thought to bring the woodworking tools.”

“But you were the one who convinced him to use them.”

She shrugged. “Well, it doesn't really make any difference where the credit belongs. The important thing is that Pop seems interested in something again. And he's looking better, too, Jake. Are…are things improving at all between you two?”

“They're better. But even though we're more comfortable with each other, there's still a…a
distance, I guess is the best way to describe it. I don't feel like we ever connect at a deeper level. And frankly, I'm not sure what else I can do. School is pretty demanding right now, and I just don't have the time to focus on Dad the way I'd like to. I'm not used to dealing with boys that age, and it's a real challenge. In fact, to be honest, I sometimes feel like I'm in over my head.”

“Your father raised two boys. Maybe he could offer you a few tips. Have you talked to him about your job, or any of the kids?”

“No. I don't think he's interested. He's never asked about my work.”

“Maybe he's afraid that you don't want his advice.”

Jake considered that. She might have a point. During the past twelve years he hadn't shared a lot of his life with his father. Why should the older man expect him to start now?

“I guess it couldn't hurt to try.”

“Well, most people are flattered when asked for advice. And your father does have a lot of experience with boys. You might actually…”

“Next Wednesday, then?”

Andrew's voice interrupted their conversation, and they turned as the two men approached.

“Let me check with my son.” Howard looked at
Jake. “Andrew would like me to come by the shop next Wednesday and look things over, maybe work out a schedule for a class. Would it put you out to run me over after school?”

“I'd be happy to, Dad.”

Howard turned back to Andrew and stuck out his hand. “It's nice to meet you, young man.”

“My pleasure. I'll see you Wednesday.”

“Sounds like things went well.” Maggie smiled at Pop.

Howard nodded, looking pleased. “Yes, they did. Nice young fellow. He's a potter. It's good to talk to people who appreciate handcrafted work.”

“Could be a whole new career for you.”

“Could be, at that.” He turned back to Jake and his tone grew more formal. “I appreciate the ride Wednesday.”

“No problem.”

“Well, if I'm going to be making things for the shop, I need to take inventory. You ready to go?”

“Sure.” Jake shifted toward Maggie and turned up the heat in his smile. “Thanks.”

Without waiting for a reply, he reached over and touched her cheek, then let his hand travel to her nape. He exerted gentle pressure and drew her close for a tender kiss. The impulsive move flustered her, but it had been three long weeks since
her birthday. Three weeks with nothing but the memory of their embrace in the fishing shack to sustain him. He needed to reassure himself that she hadn't had second thoughts about pursuing their relationship.

He searched her eyes, and when their gazes locked for a mesmerizing moment, he had all the reassurance he needed. “I'll be by later this week.” He made the promise in a voice only she could hear. “We need to talk.”

She hesitated, then gave a silent nod.

He glanced at his father. “Ready, Dad?”

“Whenever you are.” Howard sent Maggie a quizzical look, then turned and walked away.

“I'm surprised she let you do that.” His father muttered the remark as Jake fell into step beside him.

“I think she's beginning to realize that I've changed. At least, I hope she is.”

The older man paused and regarded his son for a moment. Jake tensed, waiting for a derogatory comment, but instead Howard simply turned and continued toward the car. “Let's go home.” He called the gruff comment over his shoulder. “I've got some projects to start.”

Jake followed, trying to absorb the significance of what had just occurred. Not only had his father refrained from making a disparaging remark, but
even more important, he had used the word
home
for the first time. It was a small thing, Jake knew. But it was a start.

J
ake dropped his briefcase on the couch and sniffed appreciatively. Since the beginning of the school year, his father had taken over the chore of cooking dinner. The meal was never fancy, given Howard's limited culinary skills, but the gesture was much appreciated. He was always tired when he got home, and definitely not in the mood to cook. His father's willingness to step in and handle KP was a godsend. Especially tonight.

As Jake strolled toward the kitchen, he mulled over the encounter he'd had with one of the freshmen this afternoon. Actually,
confrontation
was a better description. The last thing he needed in this “learning-the-ropes” phase of his new career was a smart aleck kid mouthing off at him. He supposed he could—and perhaps should—report the insubordination to the dean. But that could be the death
knell for a budding maritime career, and he was reluctant to take such a drastic measure so early in the semester. Besides, there was something about the boy that troubled him. A look in his eyes of…bleakness; that was the word that came to mind. And desperation. They were almost indiscernible under his veneer of insolence, but they were there, Jake was certain. He just didn't know what to do about it.

“Hi, Dad.” He paused in the doorway. “What's for dinner?”

His father shrugged. “Just meat loaf. I used to make it for myself at home sometimes, after your mother died. She made it better than I do, though.”

“Well, it sure smells good.”

Howard turned to set the table, pausing for a moment to study Jake. “You look tired.”

Jake sighed and reached around to rub the stiff muscles in his neck. “It was a long day.”

“I imagine teaching is quite a change from the navy. Takes a while to get used to, I expect.” Howard placed the cutlery beside the plates. “Go ahead and change if you want. Dinner'll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

When Jake reappeared a few minutes later wearing worn jeans and a sweatshirt, his father nodded to the table. “Have a seat. It's almost ready.”

“Can I help with anything?”

“Two cooks in the kitchen is one too many. That's what your mother always used to say, and she was right.”

Jake eased his long frame into the chair, watching as Howard bustled about. His father was moving with much more purpose and energy these last few days, he realized. Thanks to Maggie. Getting his father back into woodworking had been a terrific idea, and she had known just how to go about it. Considering the success of that strategy, he decided to talk to his father about school, ask his advice. Maggie had been batting a thousand so far, after all. And he
was
at a loss about how to deal with his problem student. Perhaps his father could offer a few insights. It couldn't hurt to ask anyway.

Halfway through the meal, his father gave him the perfect opening.

“I saw some of the students from the academy walking down the road today. They look like fine young men.”

“They are. Most of them. But I've got one fresh-man—I just can't figure out what's going on in his head.”

Howard forked a bite of meatloaf. “What's his problem?”

“I wish I knew. I checked his transcripts, and he's gotten good grades in the past. But he's only
doing the bare minimum to survive in my class—and in his other classes, as well. He's sullen and withdrawn and just itching for a fight. We had a confrontation after class today, as a matter of fact. I told him I expected more, and essentially he said that as long as he turned in the assignments it wasn't any of my business how well he did. That I should just grade his papers and buzz off.”

“Sounds like somebody needs to give that boy a good talking-to.”

“You're right. But he doesn't let anybody get close enough. Whenever I see him he's alone.”

“Well, I'm not surprised, with that kind of attitude.”

“The thing is, Dad, he has a sort of…hopeless…look in his eyes.” Jake furrowed his brow. “Like he's worried and scared and…I don't know. I just sense there's something wrong. I'd like to reach out to him, try to help, but I don't know how.” He expelled a frustrated breath.

Howard stopped eating and peered across the table at Jake, as if surprised by his son's admission. There was a moment of silence, and when he spoke, his voice was cautious.

“Sounds like something's on his mind, all right. Probably could use a sympathetic ear. But you're a stranger, Jake. It's pretty hard to trust a stranger, especially one who's an authority figure.”

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

“You know, going away to school can be a scary thing. That could be part of it. But it sounds to me like maybe something's going on at home, too. Something that's tearing him up inside. Lots of times people get belligerent when they're faced with a situation that scares them, more so if it's something they can't control.”

Jake wondered if his father realized that insight might apply in his own case, but as the older man buttered a piece of bread, his focus was clearly in the past.

“I remember one time when Rob was in sixth grade, the teacher called us up and said he was picking fights. Well, you know that wasn't like Rob at all. So I took him out to the woods the next weekend to help me chop some logs. Just the two of us. Your mother packed a nice lunch, hot chocolate and sandwiches, and while we were eating I started to ask about school, casual-like, and how things were going. Just kind of opened the lines of communication, I think they call it these days. Anyway, 'fore we left, I found out Rob was scared to death your mother was sick. Overheard us talking about the Nelsons, but misunderstood and thought it was your mom who had to have surgery. Amazing how things improved once he got that worry off his mind.”

Jake stared at his father. “I never knew anything about that.”

Howard shrugged. “No reason for you to. Anyhow, might not be a bad idea, if you really want to find out what's going on with this boy, to take him out for a cup of coffee or something. Let him know you're willing to listen, away from the classroom. More as a friend than a teacher—you know what I mean? Sounds like he could use a friend.”

Score another hit for Maggie. Not only did the older man have some excellent insights, but he'd been more than willing to share them.

“That sounds like good advice, Dad. Thanks. I'll give it a try.”

The older man gave what appeared to be an indifferent shrug, but Jake knew his father was flattered.

“Might not work. But it couldn't hurt to try.” Howard rose and began clearing the table. “How about some apple pie? Can't say I baked it myself, but you'll probably be just as happy I didn't.”

Astonished, Jake watched his father. This was the first time in years he had shown Jake any humor. Could a gesture as simple as a mere request for advice make such a difference?

Apparently it could. Because as Howard depos
ited the dishes in the sink and prepared to cut the pie, something else astonishing happened.

For the first time in years, Jake heard his father whistle.

 

Maggie glanced at her watch for the tenth time in fewer minutes and told herself to calm down. Just because Jake was coming over was no reason for her nerves to go haywire. Unfortunately, her nerves weren't listening to reason.

She sat in the porch swing, hoping its gentle, rhythmic motion would calm her jitters. She was certain that Jake wanted to pick up where they'd left off the night of her birthday, and she was afraid. Afraid that by allowing their relationship to progress, she was exposing her heart to danger. But she still cared for him. To deny it was useless. She still found him attractive, still responded to his touch. But more than that, she still felt as she had so many years ago—that Jake and no one else was meant to be her husband. In fact, she felt it even more strongly now than before. Which seemed odd, after all they'd been through.

The crunch of tires on gravel interrupted her thoughts, and her heartbeat quickened as her gaze flew to the small parking lot. She recognized the small, sensible car Jake had purchased—a far cry from the impractical sporty number he used to crave—and watched as he unfolded his long
frame and stood gazing out to sea, his strong profile thrown into sharp relief by the setting sun. He stayed there, motionless, for a long moment, seeming to savor the scene. It was a lovely view, and Maggie herself had often paused to admire it. But it was not something Jake would have appreciated—or even noticed—a dozen years ago. It was just one of the many things about him that had changed.

And yet, at least one thing had stayed the same. He was every bit as handsome as he'd always been—tall, confident in bearing, with an easy, heart-melting smile that could still turn her legs to rubber. He was the kind of man who would stand out in any gathering—and who could have had his pick of women through the years.

And yet…he'd never married. Had even implied that she was the reason for his single status. Maggie wanted to believe that was true, wanted to think that the love he'd once felt for her had endured—just as hers had for him.

At the same time, she wasn't a starry-eyed sixteen-year-old anymore. She was an adult who knew better than to let her emotions rule her life. She was determined to approach the situation with logic and as objectively as she could. It was true that everything she'd seen since he'd returned indicated that Jake had matured, that he was now a man who understood the concept of honor and responsibility,
who could be counted on in good times
and
bad. And Maggie wanted to believe the evidence that was accumulating in his favor. But only time would tell if the changes were real—and lasting.

He didn't notice her in the shadows, so as he reached to press the bell she spoke.

“Hello, Jake.”

He turned toward the porch swing—and took a few seconds to enjoy the view. Maggie's shapely legs, covered in khaki slacks, were tucked under her, and she'd thrown a green sweater over her shoulders to ward off the evening chill. In the fading light, her flame-colored hair took on a life of its own. She wore it down tonight, as he preferred, and it framed her porcelain complexion in flattering waves. Right now, at this moment, she looked no older than she had that summer twenty-one years before, on the day of their eventful bike ride. And she made him feel exactly as he had on that same memorable, long-ago day—breathless, eager and deeply stirred. But he wasn't a seventeen-year-old anymore, he reminded himself. Even if he did feel like one.
Control
was the operative word here.

“Hi.” The deep, husky timbre of his voice wasn't something he could control, however. And it wasn't lost on Maggie, judging by the sudden bloom on her cheeks.

“Would you like some coffee?”

He shook his head. “No, thanks. Why don't we just sit out here for a while?”

“Okay.” She lowered her feet to the floor and scooted over to make room for him. The swing creaked in protest as he sat down, and he turned to her with a grin.

“Are you sure this is safe?” He draped an arm across the back of the swing and gently brushed his fingers over her shoulder.

“No.” She eyed his arm.

He chuckled. “I've missed you.”

“You just saw me at the fair.”

“That was four days ago. And besides, there were too many people around.”

The corners of her mouth tipped up. “That didn't stop you from…” She arched an eyebrow.

“Kissing you? No, as a matter of fact it didn't. It could easily become a habit. But I have to admit I prefer more privacy. Take this spot, for instance. I think the twins had the right idea on your birthday. It's very romantic here.” He cupped her chin in his hand and let his gaze caress her face.

Big mistake. His control wavered.

Jake tried to resist. Reminded himself to move slowly. He needed to reach deep into his reserves of discipline and simply back off.

She let out a soft sigh.

His control dissolved.

With a sigh of capitulation, Jake gave up the fight and leaned down to claim the lips of the woman he loved. His intention was to keep the kiss simple and swift. Make it long enough to let her know he cared and had missed her, but short enough not to make her nervous.

But somehow it didn't turn out that way.

Because from the moment their lips met, Jake was overwhelmed by a sense of urgency that took his breath away. Maggie felt so good in his arms, so right, as if she belonged there for always. He framed her delicate face with his hands, and the initial gentle, tentative touching of lips escalated to an embrace that spoke of love and longing, reflecting twelve long years of parched emotions.

What surprised Jake more than his unexpected loss of control was Maggie's acquiescence. He had felt her tense at first, as if taken aback by the intensity of his embrace, but within seconds she was returning his kiss with a passion that equaled his own. Without breaking contact with her lips, he shifted their positions so that she was cradled in his arms. She sighed softly, and he continued to kiss her.

How had he lived without her sweet love to sustain him all these years? Now that he'd found her again, he couldn't imagine a future without her.

When at last Jake reluctantly released her lips, she lay in his arms, staring up at him with a slightly dazed expression that he suspected mirrored his own. Gently he brushed a few errant tendrils of hair back from her face. She started to reach up, as if to touch his cheek, then dropped her hand.

“Why did you stop?” He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers, then pressed it against his cheek.

She tugged her hand free, then shifted herself to the other side of the swing. Keeping her head averted, she ran her fingers through the tangled waves of her hair, trying to restore it to order.

“Jake…I think that…well, I think it's obvious that we're still…attracted to each other on the…on the physical level. But there are other levels that are equally important—if not more important. I—I need to focus on those, but I can't even think straight when you…when I'm…when we're close.” She stopped. Took a deep breath. “And there are issues we need to deal with—
I
need to deal with—things I still need to work through. I don't want to lose sight of those.”