WILLIAM PACED THE small kitchen of Victory Cottage. Looking out the window at the wind-tossed bay didn’t provide the usual comfort.
He hadn’t slept well and was still on edge. The scene at Bisky’s yesterday had bothered him for reasons he didn’t fully understand.
That cop who’d made comments about dock kids was irritating, but William knew the type, had grown up with them. A little better off than the families that worked the water, they’d trumpeted their superiority as a way to bolster themselves up. He’d had bigger problems back then, and the jokes had run off him like rainwater off a duck’s back.
It hadn’t been Jimmy Colerain who’d caused his insomnia. It was the other one. The good-looking officer who’d seemed all too interested in learning about Bisky and connecting with her.
He climbed up the stairs as Sunday morning church bells rang somewhere in town. He’d do his laundry and clean the place, pay his bills. Maybe he’d get to work fixing that broken segment of fence he’d seen yesterday.
The sound of the doorbell startled him and he realized he hadn’t heard it since arriving in town a week ago. Who would be coming over this early on a Sunday? He barely knew anyone in town, these days.
He ran his fingers through his hair, went downstairs and opened the door.
There was Bisky.
He sucked in a breath. She wore a denim skirt, above knee length and fitted, with a red sweater that suited her coloring. Her face was pink and the breeze off the bay lifted her loose hair from her shoulders.
He’d wondered what she would look like with her hair down, and the answer was, good. She looked good.
He also couldn’t help but notice her curves. When had Bisky turned into such a knockout?
She cleared her throat and smiled, looking a little nervous. “Did I wake you up?”
“No. Come on in.” He held the door, gestured her into the kitchen and watched the sway of her walk, mesmerized.
She looked over her shoulder and frowned. “You okay? If you’re not in the mood for company, just say so. Although I’m not here for a visit.”
Stop looking at her like that, it’s Bisky. “I’m glad to see you,” he said truthfully, following her, “but if not for a visit, then what’s up?”
“I’m taking you to church,” she said.
He stopped. “I don’t go to church.”
“Maybe that’s your problem. Come on.” She softened her words with a smile. “There’s a lunch after. Everyone brings stuff, and some of them are amazing cooks.”
He looked out the window to stop himself from staring at this new version of his old friend.
Going to church. His family hadn’t gone, ever. Like other kids in Pleasant Shores, he’d gotten dragged along with friends and neighbors sometimes, but he’d always felt like people looked at him funny, talking about the big dock kid in the ragged clothes, wondering what he was doing there.
When he’d married Ellie, it had been in a church, and they’d attended church on holidays. And later, in the dark months after Jenna had been killed, a couple of friends had practically forced him into counseling with a local pastor, who’d given him some books and bible passages to read and had prayed with him.
He couldn’t say whether it had helped or not. Nothing had really helped, but the pastor had brought him back from the brink of despair, reminded him he had things to live for still, could do some good in the world.
In honor of that guy, and because it was Bisky who was asking, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go.”
“Good.” But when he grabbed his jacket, she just stood there, eyebrows raised. “Do you have anything nicer to wear?”
“I...” He looked down at his jeans and T-shirt, and it all flooded back to him. The dock folks had tended to dress up for church, while the richer town folks dressed down. “We still wear our Sunday clothes?” he asked.
She smiled and nodded. “You said ‘we,’” she said. “You’re one of us still.”
So he had. So he was. He trotted upstairs and put on khakis and a polo shirt. “Is there time for me to shave?” he called down.
“If you hurry.”
So he did a quick shave and added a sports jacket, and went downstairs, feeling better.
She smiled when she saw him. “You look like a professor,” she said, and there was something that resembled appreciation in her eyes.
That put a spring in his step, and they walked out together into the early spring morning, keeping a brisk pace so they’d get there on time.
As they passed storefronts and yards with bushes starting to bud, he felt a wave of happiness, like he was waking up. The air smelled fresh, and somewhere above them, a bird sang a spring song: too-WEE, too-WEE.
William almost felt like he could sing, too.
Bisky had come to get him, bring him to church. She could have done the same to Officer Evan Stone, but she hadn’t. She’d chosen him.
As they reached the church steps, he found himself smiling. Up ahead, a couple of teen girls giggled over something on a phone.
The sound of it crashed over him like a giant wave, bringing back memories and washing away his good mood.
Here he was feeling happy, when Jenna could never be happy again. What was wrong with him? He didn’t deserve to have a nice, happy springtime Sunday.
Bisky had gotten a couple of steps ahead of him, and now she turned. She stopped, studied his face, and walked back. “What happened just then?”
She was too perceptive. “Those girls,” he admitted, nodding sideways to the giggling pair. “Sounded just like my Jenna.”
She put an arm around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “That must be so hard.” She hesitated, then added, “I honestly can’t imagine what you’re going through. I don’t know of anything to say to comfort you.”
At least she wasn’t telling him to get over it or remember the good times. “It’s hard, but I don’t want to bring you down.”
“That’s what friends are for,” she said simply. “Come on. We’ll sit in the back. Maybe the service will help.”
So he followed her inside and they sat in the back corner, a little removed from the small crowd greeting each other, talking quietly. In the background, the organ played, something beautiful.
And he was broken. Broken inside. If only he hadn’t left Jenna alone that day.
He looked through the church bulletin, trying to focus on what it said, sucking in breaths to soften the tightness in his throat. Bisky was watching him, and he really didn’t want to talk about Jenna and break down here, in public.
So he changed the subject. “Doesn’t Sunny come with you to church?”
“Sometimes,” she said. “This morning, she’s taking care of the dog.”
Right, the dog. “Are you keeping it?”
“I guess.” She shook her head. “It’s a pitiful creature. And it makes me mad that someone would hurt a dog like that.”
“Yeah, and that people blame it on the dock kids.”
She nodded. “There are still so many stereotypes. That’s why I want to do the teen program. Why I want you to help, too. You made a decision yet?”
He blew out a breath.
“You get them,” she continued. “A lot of people don’t, but you do. You can give them hope.”
Could he? What Bisky was saying was similar to what the pastor had said, back home. That he could be a good example to kids who hadn’t had any advantages. That he had something special to offer because of the background he came from.
The pastor had even said God would use his rough childhood for a good end. He’d stopped short of saying God would use Jenna’s death for a good end—probably sensing that William would deck him—but his words about William’s background had made some amount of sense.
“I mean,” she said, “I’m not going to push you into something you really don’t want to do. If you can’t, I’ll find someone else to help out.”
“Like Evan Stone, the cop?” he blurted out.
She gave him a strange look. “I hadn’t thought of him,” she said, “but he does seem like a good guy. He’s new in town and not very connected yet. Maybe he would like to help.” She looked at him sideways. “But I’d rather have you.”
She’d rather have him. He straightened in the church pew. “All right,” he said, “I’ll do it.”
AFTER SERVICES, BISKY led William to the church luncheon. He seemed to be doing better, at least a little bit, but she was worried about him.
How did you get over the death of your child? How did you manage to go on with life at all, let alone seize some kind of happiness? If anything ever happened to Sunny...
She couldn’t even let that thought stay in her head for two seconds. It was weak of her, maybe, and as William’s friend she ought to try, but she couldn’t. She shook the idea off and looked around the church basement, where the luncheons were held in cold weather. “Do you remember coming to this with my family, years ago?” she asked William. If she could distract him, even in a small way, maybe it would help a little.
He looked around. “I do,” he said. “The smell brings it all back. I’m pretty sure I ate way more than my share, but people were nice.”
“As they should be. It’s church.”
He was right: the smell was mouthwatering. Someone was frying crab cakes, and the aroma of fresh-baked corn bread filled the air. Bisky’s stomach growled. “I always skip breakfast when the church is having a lunch,” she said. She opened a bag she’d been carrying and pulled out a plastic bin. “I made chocolate chip cookies,” she said. “I love ’em, but I don’t dare bake them when it’s just me and Sunny to eat them. I run the risk of eating them all myself.”
“You don’t worry about your weight, do you?” His eyes skimmed over her. “You look good.”
That gave her a funny little tingle in between her tummy and her heart. Which was ridiculous; this was William. What did it matter if he liked how she looked? “Every woman worries about weight a little, especially as she gets older,” she said. “Come on, I see some people we can sit with. Pastor Steve will bless the food, and then they’ll have us go up table by table, so everyone doesn’t rush the kitchen.”
Talking helped her get rid of that odd sensation of wanting William to like how she looked. It also felt like a good idea to have him sit with her amidst a whole gang of people, rather than going off by themselves. “Everyone,” she said when they reached the table she’d targeted, “this is William Gross. He’s back in town after a lot of years away.” She nodded toward the closest family. “William, that’s Paul, but you two already met, right? And that’s his wife, Amber, and their son, Davey.”
“I’m five,” Davey informed William.
“Are you really?” William smiled at the little boy. “You’re pretty big.”
“And that’s Ria and Drew and their daughters, Kaitlyn and Sophia. Sunny’s not here today,” she informed Kait, because the two of them were good friends.
“Did you let her keep the dog?” the teenager asked.
“Against my better judgment,” Bisky said, shaking her head, and the others laughed.
“And this is Trey and Erica and their baby, Hunter,” she said. “Who everyone always fights over holding, because he’s so adorable.”
William’s face lit up. “I can see why,” he said. “Do you think he’d come to me?” He knelt down beside Erica, making himself smaller.
“You’re welcome to try,” Erica said. “He’s as heavy as if he were made of bricks.” She scooted Hunter toward William, who held out his hands.
Hunter studied him, his face impassive. William reached out gently and took him in his hands, then when Hunter remained calm, stood and swooped him into the crook of his arm. He bounced the baby and spoke quietly to him, and Hunter began to smile.
The sight of such a big man with a baby did something to Bisky’s heart.
She’d used to wish for another child, a brother or sister for Sunny, but as the years had gone by, it had come to seem unlikely. She’d talked herself into being glad. As a woman alone, raising Sunny well, providing for her needs, saving up for college...there just weren’t resources or space for another child.
She was thirty-seven now, late in the game for babies. She hadn’t felt that maternal hunger for a long time. But watching William with Hunter was bringing it back, hard and strong.
She didn’t want to let that happen, so she deliberately turned away and talked to Amber until William gave the baby back to Erica and the pastor prayed over the food. Bisky gestured William ahead of her, so he walked with Paul and Trey to fill his plate. She even hoped to put someone else in between her and William when they returned to the table, but everyone quickly grabbed their earlier seats, leaving her right next to him.
And he was hard to ignore, especially when he leaned close to tell her how good everything was. She caught the scent of his aftershave and felt the warmth that seemed to radiate from his body, and got almost dizzy.
What was wrong with her? She and William were friends, and that was all. What William needed most was a friend.
She was glad to see how well he got along with everyone. He’d matured since she’d known him as an awkward, angry boy. He was a man now, friendly and strong, someone others enjoyed talking with. It was a different side of William, and she liked it. Wouldn’t mind seeing more of it, she thought, and then scolded herself for her foolishness.
“You look happy,” Amber said, waggling her eyebrows at Bisky and giving a meaningful glance toward William. “Any particular reason?”
“I am happy,” she said, ignoring Amber’s implication. “William’s going to work with me on the new program for teens.” She looked over and saw that William was listening. “See, it’s public now, you have to.”
“I’m committed,” he said, smiling. And she was blown away. When had he gotten so handsome? When had she started noticing he was so handsome?
And she was going to be working with him. Yikes.
The windows were open, with blue sky and sunshine visible outside. Around them, people were going back for seconds or dessert, walking around talking to people at other tables, laughing and enjoying the day. Kayla came over to their table.
“Miss Kayla!” Davey ran to wrap his arms around her legs, nearly tripping her.
“Davey’s preschool teacher,” Amber explained to William with a wry grin. “I count for nothing when she’s around.”
“Davey’s pretty fond of you,” Paul said, putting an arm around her. “You’re his mom.”
Bisky smiled at the obvious tenderness between them. There had been a time when Paul had asked Kayla out, before realizing that he and Amber were meant for each other. Amber had been jealous. But now, there was no awkwardness between them.
Davey’s mother had died several years ago, but Paul was right: Amber was clearly Davey’s mom now, and the little family were friends with Kayla and her mom. Which was good. Pleasant Shores was too small of a community for grudges to last long.
“Let’s go get dessert,” Paul said. Amber and Bisky declined, but Paul and William and Trey headed up to where pieces of pie and cake were being distributed.
“He’s good-looking,” Kayla said, smiling, as soon as the men were out of sight. “Adds to the great scenery in this town.”
Bisky felt a primal sense of possessiveness. William was more than scenery, and Kayla couldn’t have him.
And then she realized how ridiculous that was.
“He is good-looking.” Bisky made herself smile at Kayla and Amber.
“And?” Amber asked. “How do you feel about him?”
“He’s a friend, and that’s all,” Bisky said firmly.
Deliberately, she looked around, watching Davey run over to play with a group of kids who were climbing onto the stage and jumping down. People were starting to leave now, putting on coats and gathering dishes.
Bisky remembered when Sunny had been one of the children jumping around and playing. But that time was over for her. Sunny would soon be on her own, moving on.
“It goes fast,” Amber said, reading her mind. Amber’s daughter, Hannah, was away at college. Where Sunny would be soon, too.
From the next table, Primrose Miller beckoned to Bisky. Primrose was the church organist, and she was busy feeding one of Chelsea Carbon’s twins while Chelsea fed the other. Primrose could strain Bisky’s nerves because of how much she loved to gossip, but she was a sweet person underneath. Bisky went over to stand next to the woman.
“Who’s your young man?” Primrose asked, still spooning food into the baby’s mouth. She nodded in William’s direction. “The tall one. He looks familiar.”
“He’s not my young man.” Bisky had to smile at the terminology, but then she noticed that other people were listening. No doubt thinking she and William were together, and that, she had to dispel. “He’s William Gross. He grew up here, but he’s been away for a while. Now he’s here for the Victory Cottage program.” Not for Bisky. Definitely not for Bisky.
She’d never been with anyone seriously and long-term. And she didn’t hold it against herself; she was strong, and that was good, but men didn’t like it. She was too much for most men.
Suddenly, she wanted to leave. “I have to go check on Sunny,” she said to the ladies, and then repeated the same excuse to William. Then she hurried up and left by herself. Maybe that would cut down on any gossipy idea that she had feelings for William, or him for her. He wasn’t her “young man,” as Primrose had said, and he never would be.
Now, she just had to make sure her own heart got the memo.