Fiery (6 page)

Ryan. It had to be him.

Breathing a steadying breath, she picked up the phone and called her voicemail.

“Carmen, hi.” Ryan spoke quietly, like he had that first day on the beach. Like he had in her kitchen. Like he did every night on her machine. “I’m heading home for the night. I didn’t quite finish the scene with Byron, Harold and Errol. I don’t think I can get their faces right.”

She’d been unable to resist including the three men on the bench they often sat on to plan their schemes. The grandfathers made the town what it was and she wouldn’t have liked the place near as much without them. She’d been looking forward to working on that square herself.

“I know you’re still hurt and angry with me, and I can’t blame you. I said some awful things. I need to ask a favor, though.”

She was shaking her head. She couldn’t go work with him. He’d apologized every time he called, and his sincerity reached through the recording every time, but he’d broken her heart. That he could do that after only a short time together spoke of a power she wasn’t comfortable with him having.

“I have another project I need to work on for a few days. Can you get by the gazebo and work on the granddads’ faces and maybe the next scene? We can’t afford to lose any time. Let me know if you can’t help out.” He sighed and the shudder in it made her heart ache. How was it possible that the man could affect her through a voicemail? “I’m sorry I hurt you, Carmen. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Ryan.” She said it to herself and then replayed his message. She listened three more times, sighing each time he did at the end, before she got her cell phone and texted him.

Got your message.

Can you go?
His response came so quickly she wondered if he’d been holding the phone.

Yes.

Thank you. How are you?

Good. Tired. Going to bed.
Where she would dream of him stretched out at her side.

His next message took longer to come back and she could practically see him sitting in a chair thinking about what to write.

See you in my dreams. <3

His return message busted the dam that had held her tears at bay. Carmen sank into the couch with the waterworks flowing. What kind of Marine ended a conversation like that? And how was she supposed to resist him when he pulled out that kind of charm?

Chapter Six

Carmen removed the padlock from the gate and stepped through the privacy fence surrounding the gazebo before she closed the wood panel behind her. The sun shone overhead and the families milling around outside the wall laughed and yelled. Inside the wall was an unusual seclusion that still allowed her to feel a part of things.

Then she saw how much work Ryan had done, mostly without the help of his crew, and her heart trembled. Bags of rocks sat nearby. Clear buckets held rocks that had been sorted by color. The white turtleheads that formed the back border were beginning to bud and would be blooming by the parade.

Lining the turtleheads, stretching from one set of steps to the other, a horizontal row of black rock formed a line. Vertical lines delineated sections that would be individual pictures with another horizontal line forming the bottom of the frame.

The individual squares would depict the shared history of Whispering Cove and Maine. At the base of each square, the decade had been chiseled into a flat white stone and then smaller black stones had been glued in the outline. Only a few squares waited for her more artistic eye—according to one of his voicemails.

Starting with the 1950s, the first square had a large, flat stone sitting on a bed of blue mulch. On the stone, the red convertible that brought up the rear of every Independence Day parade. The first parade had been held in 1955, the same year the car had been built. She was supposed to ride in that car this year.

The 1960s was a 3-D statue of a landlocked salmon, the state fish, jumping from the water. For the statues, they’d taken smaller chunks of white rock and shaped them into the desired design, sort of like a tile pattern. The fish was mounted on a metal rod.

There was a moose, the state animal, for the 1970s and the state fossil, the pertica quadrifaria, was planned for the 1980s. The state herb, wintergreen, filled the square for the 1990s. Its smell would reach the entire area when the walls were pulled down and the wind picked it up.

Dirigo
—Latin for “I lead”—was spelled out on a flat stone for the 2000s spot. It struck Carmen how fitting it was that a former Marine was the lead on the project and that the state motto was taking up the center square.

“This is going to be lovely.”

Carmen jerked and looked up to see Ruth Mitchell studying the 2010s square. It was the one that would have Byron, Errol and Harold on their bench. The bench was a rectangular stone. On the bench sat three headless men, one with a hand resting on his stone cane. Their heads and faces waited. “Mrs. Mitchell, hi.”

“Please. Call me Ruth.”

“Ruth. Are you spying for your husband?”

“Do you really think I would report back to him on how his plans are progressing?” Ruth asked with a wink. “He’s about to go mad over the fact you and Ryan aren’t speaking.”

“How does he know if we’re speaking or not?”

“He comes by every day to check up on Ryan. You’ve got that poor boy in knots.”

“Ryan?” She shook her head, hoping Ruth spoke the truth. If he was half as miserable as she’d been then life really was fair.

“He’s a better man than people give him credit for.”

“How do you mean?” Carmen had already seen his goodness, heard it. She didn’t mind hearing some more. She settled onto the ground in front of the square beside the grandfathers and began working on their faces.

“He told me one time he didn’t feel like he belonged here. Most people think he was running away when he joined the Marines.” Ruth lowered herself to the ground beside Carmen and began sorting rocks. “Truth of the matter is he was searching for himself.”

She understood that.

“Did you know he’s adopted?” Ruth continued. “At least by Mr. Alden.”

She shook her head. That was a piece of gossip no one had dropped before.

“Ryan’s mom met his father while he was on leave from the Marines. She was pregnant when he left.”

Aimee’s story had been similar. Guy comes to town, they have a fling, he leaves more behind than he planned.

“She wrote the man. He sent back papers signing away his rights.”

And that was like hers and Aimee’s life. They’d been abandoned by both parents. Ryan had been abandoned by one. That, combined with sixteen years in the military, could make anyone jaded.

“Ryan was lucky that Mr. Alden wanted to be his father. He knew that, but it didn’t keep him from always wondering if blood was what made him different.”

“Do you know if he found him?” Carmen had never tried to stop the gossip she heard, but she’d never joined in or encouraged it either. Until now.

“I don’t. His mother told him everything she knew, but I’m not sure if Ryan met him, or confronted him if he did.” Ruth shook her head and passed Carmen a handful of stones. “Whatever he did or didn’t find, Ryan’s a strong man with a steady core of beliefs. He may not be easy to get to know, he doesn’t allow many people in very far, but if you can get past his walls I think it’ll be worth it.”

Curiosity bubbled inside. She wanted to know what he’d found and what had made him return to Whispering Cove where the gossip mongers could have another go at him, but he deserved to tell her those answers himself if he ever decided she was worth it. Of course, they’d have to be talking for that to happen.

Carmen remembered hearing about Mr. Alden tangling with a mower and losing, but she didn’t know how bad it was. “He’d have stayed in the Corps if Mr. Alden hadn’t gotten hurt, wouldn’t he?”

“To hear Mrs. Alden tell it, Ryan aggressively sought assignments that would get him higher ranks. If a promotion was available he went after it.”

“So yeah.”

Ruth nodded. “He’d have been a lifer and kept climbing the chain.”

But he’d given up his dreams to help his family. Nothing about that was hard to understand or love.

“Ryan has good reasons for his guards.” Ruth chose more rocks and passed them to Carmen. “You have that in common.”

Carmen had seen that guard drop. How deeply he felt couldn’t be denied by anyone who knew what he’d given up for the sake of his family. The new understanding pinpointed the mysterious pull she’d felt to him.

“You think no one notices,” Ruth said, “but a few of us have.”

It unsettled her that Ruth had seen through her. The right response didn’t come easily, so she concentrated on the rock work and said nothing.

Ruth filled the silence. “You’re a traditionalist, Carmen. That’s obvious from this design. You’ve studied our history while trying to find your part in it.”

“Why can’t I just like Whispering Cove enough to want to know about it?”

“You can, but you’re a more complex woman than that. You were lucky in that you found a steady foster home, but that family never became yours and you weren’t allowed to know your own history. Naturally, now that you’ve found a place to plant some roots, you want them to have a deeper meaning.”

Ruth knew more about her than Carmen would have thought. While it was a little annoying, it was also part of Whispering Cove’s charm. If people took the time to learn her secrets it meant they cared. Of course, by that logic, that she was asking questions about Ryan meant she cared for him. How much though? And why?

What was it about the man that made her want to be with him even when he was pissing her off?

“Well,” Ruth said, placing another bundle of rocks in Carmen’s hand. “It’s my afternoon to spoil my grandbaby. I really love what you’re doing here. You should be proud. And don’t give Ryan too hard a time. He’s one of the good guys.”

Ruth walked away, leaving Carmen to work and think back on all the messages Ryan had left on her voicemail. Wanting time alone with her thoughts, she pulled the iPod and earbuds from her pocket. With her country music cued up, she arranged and rearranged rocks until they took the shape of faces.

Dolly Parton came on, demanding to know why he had to look so good. Carmen bopped in time with the music, singing loud and no doubt off key and not caring in the least.

Dolly faded away, leaving room for Faith Hill to move in with “This Kiss”. The emotion she put into the lyrics about a man’s kiss resonated with Carmen. Ryan had made her feel that free with his kisses. Free enough that when Shania Twain kicked off “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” Carmen had never connected more with a song.

She was body dancing while working with rocks. The sun beat warm on her shoulders and cheeks. It was the first time she could remember that she felt completely safe to be herself and not worry about other people. In the seclusion of the town square, uncaring who might hear, she rocked out.

Better than anything else, she wasn’t relying on Aimee or Kendall to fill the spare moments of her life. By the time the next song came on, Carmen was doing more body dancing and head bopping and off-key singing than she was rock work.

Pushing to her feet, with her eyes closed, she held the iPod in one hand and waved the other in the air over her head. Maybe it was the strong women singing about the men who’d inspired them or the things they’d felt or wanted to feel in their life. Carmen was inspired by an inner peace she’d been missing since Aimee left town.

She kicked off her shoes and with the soft grass tickling her feet she moved with the beat as she went to get another round rock to make the second face. Her feet were moving so fast, she opened her eyes, but not soon enough. She moved too close to the pile of rock bags and before she could correct herself, her heel hit a bag. Falling backward, her iPod flew from her hand and jerked the earbuds out of her ears. Her ankle twisted and her hands, practically of their own accord, moved back to catch her.

Suddenly, strong arms came around her from behind and stopped her descent. Her shoulders and head rested against a lean, hard chest. Electricity sparked along her spine. Her insides tingled and tightened and she knew who’d rescued her.

Craning her head, she looked back. Ryan was holding her securely and smiling broadly. “Carmen.”

“How long have you been here?”

His smile danced a jig in his eyes. Oh God. He’d seen her dancing and heard her singing. Heat flamed her cheeks and it had nothing to do with the sun.

Since he was behind her, he was looking at her upside down, which somehow made it seem more ridiculous when he kissed her forehead. “Just for a few songs.”

A few songs.
She’d only listened to a few songs. He’d been there for almost the whole time.

“You’ve got some nice moves, Woman.”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people, Gunny.”

“A hurricane could have snuck up on you.” He helped her straighten and turned her to face him.

His smile was as endearing as the detailed voicemails he’d left. Sometime in the last week, with only space and knowledge that he was working on her design, the anger he incited had faded. Looking up, she searched his face and eyes. He was humored, obviously, but he also seemed lighter than he had before. Free. Like she’d just been feeling.

Holding on to the peace, she chose a path other than arguments. “Well, thank you for saving me.”

“Anytime.” He pulled his hands away.

She stepped back to pick up her iPod and her ankle buckled beneath the weight. Ryan caught her again, this time sweeping her fully into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, not that she thought he’d drop her, and enjoyed being carried to the bench in the gazebo.

“You’re different today.” She sounded winded, yet she wasn’t sure it was because of the dancing.

“So are you.” He set her on the bench, lingering a moment before releasing her. He sat by her feet and lifted her injured ankle. “You should be more careful when you dance on a worksite. You shouldn’t dance on a worksite.”

“You’re right.”

His brows were lifted when he raised his head to look at her. “Who are you, and what have you done with Carmen Smith?”