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Writing off the encounter, he smiled once more at Zach. “Hang in there, champ. It’ll be over before you know it.”
“That’s what Mom always says.” The youngster heaved a resigned sigh and continued to shovel the cake into his mouth.
“She’s right. It will still be daytime when this party is over. Maybe you can play with your friends later.”
“I don’t have any friends.”
Before Nathan could follow up on that unexpected response, the song ended and the little boy’s mother spoke in a soft but insistent voice.
“Zach, come over here and let me wipe that sticky icing off your fingers or it will get all over your jacket.”
The youngster speared the last bite of cake and shoved it into his mouth. Scooting off his chair, he trotted over to Nathan and handed him the empty plate. “Thanks a lot. That was good.”
“You’re welcome.”
He took the plate and watched the boy join his mother, she gave him another suspicious scan as she fished a tissue out of her purse and pulled her son close.
Taking the hint, he turned away and strolled back into the crowd of guests. Still wondering why the precocious little blond-haired boy had no friends.
And why the green-eyed beauty was so wary.
“Mom! You’re gonna rub all the skin off my face!”
At Zach’s protest, Catherine Walker eased off on the vigorous scrubbing she was giving her son’s cheeks and double-checked to confirm that the tall, brown-haired man with the slightly gaunt face had disappeared into the throng of wedding guests.
“Sorry, honey.” She took one more swipe at a stubborn speck of icing that had somehow found its way to his eyebrow, then pocketed the sticky tissue.
“How much longer is this thing gonna last?”
“A while.”
He huffed out a sigh. “That means a really long time.”
“I brought a lot of books for you. And there are paper and crayons in the tote bag, too. Why don’t you draw some pictures?”
“I’d rather go to the beach.”
“I know. We’ll go tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah. I guess.” He stuck his hands into his pockets and surveyed the wedding guests. “Maybe that man will come back and talk to me again.”
“You know the rule about talking to strangers, Zach.”
“He gave me cake. And he was really nice. Besides, he’s not a stranger. He told me his name.”
“Just because you know his name doesn’t mean he’s not a stranger.”
“You were right here, Mom. You could see me the whole time.” Zach gave her a disgruntled look and scuffed the toe of his shoe on the brick walkway. “I wish you weren’t so scared all the time.”
Jolted, Catherine frowned at him. “I’m not scared. I’m just being cautious.”
“What’s the difference?”
He wandered back to his seat and began to poke through the tote bag, his apathy for her time-killing suggestions obvious.
As her son withdrew a book and settled into his chair, Catherine pondered his question. What was the difference between caution and fear? Not much, she conceded. But she had good reason for both. Thanks to David.
Her stomach clenched, and she forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths. Someday…maybe…she’d be able to think about him with joy instead of sorrow. But she wasn’t there yet. And after two years, she was beginning to wonder if she ever would be.
As for Zach…she was sorry he was unhappy. And she sympathized with his plight. Being confined to a chair for an extended period was about the worst possible punishment you could inflict on a boy his age. In the past, David had watched him during her musical engagements, saving her son this agony. But David was gone. And she didn’t trust Zach with anyone else.
Nor had passing up this job been an option. In her short time on Nantucket, the high cost of living had been an unwelcome surprise. She needed the money this gig would bring in.
At a signal from the group’s leader, the string quartet struck up “Ode to Joy.” Scanning the crowd again, Catherine saw no sign of the man who’d spoken to Zach. That was good. Her trust level with strangers was zilch. Even ones who were guests at a lovely wedding like this. Because you never knew where danger lurked. Sometimes it was found in the most innocent of places. Places you’d assumed were safe.
Yet…as an image of the cake-bearing stranger who’d befriended Zach flashed across her mind, she found it hard to believe he was a man to be feared. Particularly in light of that moment when their gazes had connected. She knew hers had been filled with suspicion, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d reciprocated with coolness or antipathy. In fact, that kind of reaction would have been okay.
Instead, she’d been jarred by the hurt in his deep-brown eyes.
All she’d meant to do was warn him off. She hadn’t intended to cause him pain. Yet she had. And that disturbed her. A lot. Causing pain was as unacceptable to her as letting Zach out of her sight.
But it was too late to fix things now. She doubted he’d come anywhere close to them again today, considering the unfriendly reception she’d given his kind gesture. And there was little chance their paths would ever cross again.
She needed to let it go.
Catherine tried hard to follow her own advice, doing her best to immerse herself in the lilting, joy-filled strains of one of Beethoven’s most uplifting works. To focus on the happy faces of the guests enjoying a perfect celebration in a beautiful garden on this sunny, warm day.
But somehow she couldn’t erase the image of a weary face that she sensed belonged to a man who had endured more than his share of hostile looks.
Talk about dumb.
In the split second it took for the gallon can of paint to slip from her fingers and smash into her toes, Catherine Walker knew her decision to pad around the house barefoot as she organized her remodeling supplies had been a huge mistake.
And the sharp pain that shot through her foot and set off bright pinpricks of light behind her eyes confirmed it.
Choking back a cry, she stared down at her crushed toes as the can rolled away. And came to the obvious conclusion.
Her do-it-yourself remodeling plans for the B and B she was scheduled to open in eight short weeks were hosed.
“What was that noise, Mom?”
Exiting the main house, Zach skidded to a stop in front of her in the breezeway that connected the two parts of their new home near Surfside. Soon to be known as Sheltering Shores Inn.
Maybe.
She cast another dubious eye at her foot, blinking back tears.
Without waiting for a reply, Zach squatted in front of her and examined her swelling toes.
“Wow! They’re turning purple, Mom. Do they hurt?”
“Yeah.” A lot.
“Should we call 911?”
He gave her a hopeful look. She knew he was desperate for some excitement, some activity to break the monotony of his days on this quiet byway they’d called home for the past three weeks. Their occasional trips to the grocery and hardware stores didn’t provide enough variety for her inquisitive six-year-old. And he’d hated sitting through weddings, like the one she’d played at two weeks ago. But since their move from Atlanta, she’d been too busy settling in to do much exploring with him.
That was about to change, she conceded as she tried to put her weight on her foot and cringed. She didn’t intend to summon an ambulance, but a trip to the ER seemed unavoidable.
“No, honey. I don’t need 911. But I think I better have a doctor take a look at my foot.”
“In town?”
“Yes.”
“Can we stop at Downyflake before we come home?”
Already the local hangout, known for its sugar doughnuts—which had edged out Hershey’s Kisses as her son’s favorite treat—was high on his list of must-visit places whenever they ventured out.
“We’ll see what time it is when we’re through.”
“Okay. Want me to get your purse?”
“That would be good. And grab my sandals, too, okay?”
While he headed back into the kitchen to retrieve the items, Catherine tested her foot again. If she put her weight on her heel, she could hobble as far as the car, she decided. But beyond that…
A sudden surge of panic swept over her, and she did her best to stifle it. She’d find a way to cope. She always did. Things would be okay.
They had to be.
“Here they are, Mom.” Zach burst through the door, purse and shoes in hand. “You want to lean on me?”
Despite the pain that was intensifying with every passing minute, she dredged up a smile as she gazed down into his earnest, trusting face. What would she do without this little guy? If it hadn’t been for him—and her music—she’d never have made it through the past two years. Yet she’d come so close to losing him, too. Fear clutched at her, twisting her stomach and renewing her resolve to make his safety her top priority.
“That would be nice, Zach. Thank you.”
After she slipped her feet into her sandals, he moved beside her. She’d intended only to lay her hand on his shoulder, but she found herself leaning on him more than she expected as she locked the door and they headed for her Honda Civic, parked in front.
“I guess it hurts, huh, Mom?”
“A little. But the doctor will fix it up and I’ll be good as new. Can you get your seat belt on by yourself?”
“Sure.”
He hopped into the backseat while she took her place behind the wheel and carefully lifted her injured foot inside. As she put the key in the ignition, she checked on Zach. He was already strapped into the car they’d driven up from Atlanta, eager for an outing—no matter the destination.
She grimaced as she eased the car back, every little bump on the gravel drive reverberating through her foot. Zach was watching her face in the rearview mirror, his expression somber.
“I guess maybe you should have worn shoes when you were carrying those paint cans,” he offered.
No kidding.
A tall, white-coated man with light brown hair entered the examining room at Cottage Hospital and smiled first at Zach. “Hey, big guy. How are you doing?”
The youngster shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
“Getting tired of sitting around?”
“Yeah.”
“I hear you. Let’s get your mom taken care of so you can go home.”
He turned to Catherine and held out his hand. Midthirties, she estimated as he approached the examining table, with an appealing compassion in his blue eyes. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him.
“Christopher Morgan, Mrs. Walker. Sorry it took me a while to get to you. We were dealing with some victims of a car accident who needed immediate attention.”
She took his hand. “No problem. So what’s the bad news?”
“Two broken toes.”
Her shoulders drooped. The verdict wasn’t a surprise, but she’d been hoping they might only be bruised. She’d even toyed with the idea of praying for that outcome, though she’d quickly dismissed that notion. Why bother? God hadn’t come through for her the last time she’d sought His help.
“What does that mean in practical terms, Doctor?” She tried not to panic again, but it was difficult to remain calm when she had no idea how she was going to whip the inn into shape in time for her first customers.
“No strenuous activity involving your feet for the next six weeks.”
“I suppose climbing up and down ladders falls into that category?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Definitely.”
She stared down at her elevated foot, which was surrounded by ice packs.
“Are you gonna put on a cast?” Zach interjected. “You know, the kind people draw on?”
“Nope. That’s the good news.” The doctor smiled at him, then redirected his attention to Catherine. “A hard-soled, sturdy shoe should do the trick. You need to protect your toes from further injury while they heal.”
“I have some hiking boots.”
“Those will work.”
Good thing she’d thrown them into a box at the last minute instead of giving them to charity, as she’d been tempted to do, Catherine reflected. Although looking at them had evoked a bittersweet pang and reminded her of happy times never to return, the thought of cutting that link to David had been more painful than dealing with resurrected memories. So she’d kept them.
“Now let’s talk treatment.”
The doctor’s voice drew her back to the present, and she shoved her melancholy thoughts into a dark corner of her mind.
“Expect quite a bit of bruising and swelling. Prop your foot on a pillow when you’re sleeping, and stay off it as much as possible for the next few days at least—no prolonged standing or walking. Keep your foot elevated above your head, if possible. That will help reduce the swelling. For the first couple of days, put ice on it for fifteen to twenty minutes every hour or two. You can use a plastic bag filled with ice, but be sure to put a towel between it and your skin. Take an over-the-counter pain reliever if you need it. Any questions?”
