Seaside Romance. Mia RossЧитать онлайн книгу.
He was more than a little unsteady, and Ben almost told him to take the day off. The trouble was, he feared that with nothing to occupy his time, Dad would stare at that old picture and drink himself back into oblivion.
So, despite his misgivings, he got to his feet and forced optimism into his tone. “Sounds good. I’ll see you at the lighthouse.”
“Yes, you will.” The fog lifted from his eyes, and he gave Ben the bright, genuine smile he hadn’t seen in far too long. “I haven’t been much of a father lately, but I’m real proud of you, how responsible you are. You know that, don’t you?”
Ben’s heart swelled with pride, and he swallowed around the lump that had unexpectedly appeared in his throat. This was his father, the honest small-town boy who’d married his high school sweetheart and built a business with equal parts sweat and integrity. He’d been stumbling a lot lately, but with some help, Ben believed he could recover. “Yeah, Dad. I know.”
“Good.” Patting Ben’s arm, he shuffled back through the hallway that led to the bathroom.
Taking a few moments to get his emotions back under wraps, Ben dialed the lighthouse’s number. Mavis wasn’t as spry as she used to be, so he waited patiently for her to answer. “If you’re gonna be late, I don’t wanna hear it. I got four buckets overflowing in my sitting room.”
“Just wanted to let you know we’re running a little late this morning. I’ll come out and prep and Dad’ll join up with me later.”
“That don’t sound good.” Suddenly, the gruffness was gone, and in a gentler tone she said, “I saw him yesterday afternoon, and he looked like he got run over by a backhoe. Is he all right?”
Out of respect for his father’s dignity, Ben hesitated. Then again, Mavis had been a close friend of the Thomases for more than forty years. If anyone would understand what was going on, it would be her. “More or less. The divorce papers came from Mom’s lawyer yesterday, and he didn’t take it well.”
“That poor man,” she clucked in sympathy. “Are you sure he should be working?”
“I think it’s the best thing for him. I’ll give him some easy stuff to do to keep him busy, and anything tricky I’ll handle myself. You have my word your ceiling will be good as new when we’re done.”
“Never doubted that. I’ll have the coffee ready when you get here.”
With that, she hung up, and he shut off his phone. He could hear the shower running, so he figured it was okay for him to go. On his way out, he made a detour to take care of whatever had started smelling up the house since he was here last. He grabbed a large bag from under the sink and did a quick circuit of the living room and kitchen, dropping in things that should have been tossed out a while ago.
He was officially behind schedule, but he took a couple of minutes to get the coffeemaker going. Taking out a loaf of bread and the butter, he left them next to the toaster as a not-so-subtle reminder for Dad to have something to eat before leaving. A glance around showed him he hadn’t missed anything, and he left the trash in the outside bin on his way back to his truck. Any psychiatrist worth their salt would probably tell him he was making a huge mistake, cleaning up after a grown man who was perfectly capable of doing it himself.
The problem was, Ben couldn’t bring himself to leave things the way he’d found them. It was too depressing.
* * *
Early-morning sunshine woke Lauren the following day even before her alarm went off. After a long, fun day, she’d conked out around eight-thirty and hadn’t moved until just now. Julia’s guest room was in the front of the apartment, with a wide window that looked east, out toward the harbor. When she got up to take a peek outside, she saw the glass was a little frosty, but the sun was rapidly turning Jack Frost’s work into streams of water that glinted as they trickled down the window.
Edging the window open, she clearly heard some very optimistic birds in the trees out front, and noticed two that kept flying back and forth to the eaves under the sloping roof. Farther afield, she registered the sounds of people starting their days in the shops along Main Street. One voice called out a cheerful greeting and was met with a grumpier response as a truck started up and drove away.
Suddenly, Lauren wasn’t satisfied with observing. She wanted to be out in that crisp New England morning, drinking in the sights and sounds of this place that had offered her a safe haven from the demons haunting her former life. Pulling on jeans and the hand-knit fisherman’s sweater she’d bought her first day in town, she jammed on her sneakers and crept down the short hallway to avoid waking Julia. Fortunately, the usually talkative Shakespeare was in his little canvas tent, and she made it downstairs with just a quiet squeak on the old steps.
Outside, she paused on the sidewalk in front of Toyland and took in a deep breath. Chilly and clear as a bell, the air was scented with coffee and spices wafting up from the bakery. It wasn’t even seven yet, so she had plenty of time for a walking breakfast. Drawn in by the delicious smell, she headed over to find out what was on the menu at Holiday Harbor Sweets this morning.
Within a few minutes, she was holding a large cup of hazelnut coffee and a bear claw still warm from the oven, dripping with the yummiest icing she’d ever tasted. Deciding she’d already seen all there was of the small downtown, she set out in the other direction, toward the harbor, to check out what was going on down there.
Accustomed to the hectic pace of a large city, she thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to wander around at a more leisurely clip. She didn’t want to get in the way of the crews prepping their boats, but she stood at the top of the large gangway, watching and listening. While the men hollered back and forth, rigging squeaked and clanged, all of it underscored by the calls of circling gulls overhead. It was as if they were staking out their territory, reminding the fishermen they’d be waiting for their share when the boats returned later in the day.
Here, the air was heavier, dosed with salt and the smell of diesel engines. A steady line of boats headed out to sea, in an orderly floating parade that suggested they did it this way every single day. A metallic clang caught her attention, and Lauren looked out to find the source of the noise. Buoys bobbed in the water, marking the path into the busy wharf. Beyond them, rising up out of the mist, was Last Chance Lighthouse, its slowly rotating beacon cutting a path through the fog.
It didn’t look too far away, Lauren decided, backtracking up the ramp to continue her stroll. After hearing Ben’s nutshell version of its history, she wouldn’t mind seeing it up close. The two-lane blacktop road leading out there needed some work, but it was in prime condition compared to the dirt lane that wound in toward the tower and the small house attached to it.
From here, the activity of the wharf was drowned out by the sound of waves crashing on the rocks that formed the rugged coastline. Drawn in by the awesome power of the ocean, Lauren carefully picked her way down a footpath of sorts that led to the narrow beach. Once she was back on solid ground, she stared out at the water, amazed by the sheer force driving the morning tide toward the shore.
While she finished her breakfast, the salty wind continually blew through her hair, and more than once she almost lost her balance when a strong gust hit her full on. Closing her eyes, she felt the natural currents of wind and water swirling around her and could almost imagine them blowing her past away.
“Not a good idea being down here this time of day.” At the sound of Ben’s voice, she opened her eyes to find him standing beside her. “Low tide’s better for exploring the shoreline.”
A little rattled by her instinctive response to the sea, Lauren did her best to laugh it off. “You’re right. It’s so beautiful, I guess I got carried away.”
His laugh was lost in a sudden gush of noise, but his wide grin came through loud and clear. “Didn’t really take you for a nature lover. You have any other surprises you’re hiding?”
Through harsh experience, she’d learned to be wary of handsome men with disarming grins. Somehow,