He glanced at the house. Was Laura an early riser? His wife used to sleep in on Saturdays. Jack had never succeeded in getting Joanne up early in the morning to kayak with him on the river near their town house. No matter how hard he pushed or pleaded, she hated mornings and the water. If only Jack had paid more attention to her fears.
He got out of his truck, shifting a box of cleaning supplies on his hip. Taking care not to dump the contents that rattled and clanged, he walked to the side door of the barn and turned the knob. Locked. Laura had the key.
He headed toward the porch and rapped on the kitchen door. Laura’s sleek blue convertible sat in the driveway. That car didn’t belong in this part of the U.P. where the winters were long and harsh. He knocked again.
The curtains parted abruptly and Laura peeked through, her cell phone against her ear. She gestured for him to hold on. He waited only a few moments until she opened the door. “You’re here early.”
He took in the picture she presented, starting at her bare feet with toenails painted bright purple. She wore khaki shorts and a matching T-shirt.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. The door to the barn is locked. Can I have the key?”
She scanned his box of cleaning supplies. “Wouldn’t it be easier to hire someone?”
“Maybe, but I need to get to know my place hands-on,” he said.
“Give me a minute and I’ll join you. I need to go through my dad’s stuff anyway.”
Jack shifted his box. He didn’t want her invading his space, distracting him. “It’s dirty out there. I can handle it.”
“What, I can’t get dirty?” She reached for a key tied to a faded blue ribbon and handed it to him. “Besides, I can show you some of my dad’s tools in case you want to buy them. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
Jack stood staring at the doorknob, key in hand. It’d been a long time since he’d noticed another woman with interest. And it was impossible not to notice Laura Toivo. Losing Joanne had left a gaping hole in his world, but he was finally putting his life back together. And that meant focusing on his kids. Building a secure environment for Angie. He didn’t have the time or energy to date.
He refused to find a high-strung saleswoman like Laura desirable. She had career first family second written all over her. Definitely not what he wanted. If only he didn’t find tall, blue-eyed blondes attractive.
Laura pulled on her sneakers from under the kitchen table, where she’d kicked them off last night. Just that small movement caused sweat to bead along her brow. Morning and already it was a scorcher. Unusual for late August in the U.P.
She opened her mother’s cupboard and grabbed an old-fashioned pitcher. She smiled when she thought of the look Jack had given her on the porch. She should be used to it by now—the eager eyes most men wore when they noticed her. But Jack’s expression had been softer, sweeter somehow. He had turned beet red. He was too cute. Something she certainly had no business noticing.
She quickly made lemonade, grabbed a couple of ice-filled glasses, and headed out the door. It was as good a time as any to go through her dad’s things. And she might as well get to know Jack, now that he was going to be living across the driveway from her mother.
As Jack scrubbed the toilet, he heard Laura’s approach with a clinking of glass. He looked up.
“Want some lemonade?” She stood in the doorway brandishing a metal tray topped with refreshments like some sort of shield.
“Sure.”
“Ugh, that’s just gross.” She placed an icy glass on the edge of the sink. “I’m sorry this place is in such sad shape. It’s too much for my mother to keep up, so we decided to sell it.”
“It’s not so bad.” Jack took a long drink. It made sense, the neglected property, the outdated wiring. He’d bet Laura didn’t live anywhere near here. Good thing, too. Out of sight, out of mind. He went back to the toilet with a vengeance. “Is it just you and your mom?”
“Just the two of us.”
“No brothers or sisters in the area?”
“Nope.” After setting down her tray, she moved toward a dusty radio perched on an even dustier shelf. “Do you mind?”
“Go ahead.”
She turned the knob with sounds of static blips until she settled on a station. “Do you like jazz?”
“Not really. But it’s coming in clearly.” Jack stood and stretched his back. He fumbled through his box for a can of foaming bathroom cleaner. He sprayed the sink and the tiled walls.
“Let me guess, you like country.” She’d parked herself on a nearby stool, sweating glass of lemonade in hand.
“What’s wrong with country?” He’d grown to love country music since it was often played in the horse barns where he’d made house calls.
Her expression clearly showed that he’d dropped a tick or two on her impressed scale. “Nothing. It’s just so typical up here.”
Why’d he care what she thought? “My parents used to summer near here when I was a kid.”
“Is that what made you choose this area?”
“That and the chance to buy out Dr. Walter’s practice.” He emptied his glass with a rattle of ice. “My daughter and I need a change in scenery and my son’s college is nearby. The location seemed perfect.”
“You know, you’re sticking her in the middle of nowhere. Thirteen’s a tough age.”
What could she possibly know about it? “Do you have kids?”
Her expression took on a strained, almost haunted look. “No. I’ve never been married, but I got close once.”
“What happened?” He shouldn’t have asked, but the words slipped out. He could have kicked himself for caring about the answer. He didn’t want to care about what Laura might have been through. He didn’t want to care. Period.
She shrugged. “He had a young daughter who didn’t want me for a stepmother.”
Jack could tell the admission hurt. He wondered why she hadn’t gotten along with this guy’s kid. Probably too busy with her job. Kids knew that stuff. They picked up on priorities.
“What about you?”
Jack hesitated. “Widowed.”
Her expression changed to pity. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
He let out a sigh. “It’s been two years this past June.”
She sipped her lemonade, looking more composed. “That must be hard on your kids.”
You have no idea.
He wiped down the wall with a rag, keeping busy, but he suddenly found himself wanting to unload, and Laura was surprisingly easy to talk to. It wasn’t as if she’d stick around, so what harm was it to confess a few insecurities? “Sometimes, I feel like a blind man searching for a book in the braille section of a library. Only, I don’t know the title.”
“I’m sure you’ll find it, just like you found this property when you needed it most.”
She couldn’t possibly know how God had answered his prayer. He needed to trust God to lead him to the book—to lead him through this. Good things took time and commitment. He had plenty of both to make this place a real home. A place where Angie could grow out of her grief. A place where he could release his regrets. “Thanks.”