Free to Love (3 page)

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said at last. “I’m not too bad with a hammer and nails, you know. I even do plumbing.” His gaze flicked over her.

“And?” she prompted. She could see his jaw tense.

“I have several weeks.
I’ll
postpone my fishing trip... for just a while.
I’ll
stick around and help you get the duplex back in shape. I could live in the other side in exchange for my labor.”

She felt as if someone was squeezing the air out of her lungs. She groped for the first excuse she could muster, but even as she spoke it, she knew it sounded inadequate. “I... I
don’t
know, Austin. I mean, what would you do?
There’s
no furniture in the other unit, and I’ve none to spare. I sold everything I didn’t need before the move.”

“That’s the least of my worries.” He settled his elbows on his thighs. “I’m a bachelor, don’t forget. And I like it that way. Bottom line is
,
I prefer living without frills.”

“But you’re supposed to be on vacation. Why would you want to spend it working?”

“This
will
be a vacation.
We’ll
call it a camping trip, if that makes you happy.
I’ve
got a foam pad and bedroll in the back of my Jeep that I keep there for emergencies.
I’ll
throw them down on the floor. And if the other side of the duplex has a room with a view... well, what more could I ask for?”

“Thanks, but I’ll manage,” she insisted. “Kyle and I spent nearly every weekend together remodeling the other house. I learned a lot from him. And what I can’t manage alone, I’ll contract out.”

“You need help,” he insisted, ignoring her refusal. “I’ve got the time and the know-how.
Seems to me the rest should be obvious.”

She toyed with the hem of her T-shirt. It was tempting. Her job at the Southport Aquarium would leave little free time, and she would indeed need to look for extra help. Besides, this way
they’d
both be saving money. Since Austin Hadn’t packed along any camping gear, other than the bedroll
he’d
mentioned, he probably had planned to stay in motels.

“So it’s settled,” he said, after
she’d
hesitated a second too long. He flashed
her a
disarming smile. “Starting tomorrow morning, eight sharp, consider me your hired hand.”

Chapter Two

“He didn’t make it,” Joanna said to Austin the next evening as she closed her cell phone.

“What?”

“The sea lion died about an hour ago,” she clarified. After her first day on the job and a quick trip to the grocery store afterwards,
she’d
barely stepped in the door before the call from Ted Ashelman had come through.

Austin frowned, setting his paintbrush on the top of the stepladder where
he’d
been working in the adjoining laundry room. “Too bad,” he said, moving toward her,
then
placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Guess we found him a little too late.”

She sighed heavily. Despair weighted her voice. “Yes, I’m afraid so. When I phoned Dr. Ashelman first thing this morning from the aquarium, he said the poor animal had taken a turn for the worse and the prognosis was poor.”

“So you were prepared for bad news.”

She shrugged out of her lightweight denim jacket and hung it on the hook behind the kitchen door.
“Sort of.
But I guess I wasn’t willing to throw in the towel till I knew for sure.” She sighed again as she twisted a strand of hair around her index finger. “Something’s got to be done, Austin. That sea lion
didn’t
have to suffer and die. It’s inexcusable for any of our wildlife to suffer like that.”

He held her gaze, facing her squarely. “Things are being done. When I drove into town today to pick up more paint, I noticed a poster at Harborman’s Lumber about a beach cleanup. It’s in a couple of weeks, I think.”

“Yes, I know. Trudy Conner, my boss at the aquarium, is the one who put the poster up. Some time ago, she volunteered to be the zone captain for this part of the coast, but she had to resign because of unexpected family obligations. I told her I’d be more than happy to take her place.” She reached into the first of two brown paper bags filled with fresh fruit, vegetables, pasta, and assorted cheeses, the staples of her typical vegetarian diet. Silently she opened the refrigerator door and placed a brick of Colby cheese on the top shelf, while he hunched down to stash a five-pound bag of potatoes into a low cupboard.

“Gosh, Jo,” he said after a long moment’s pause. “This was only your first day on the job. Sure you want to take on all this extra work too?”

“No problem. I like to challenge myself.”

“So what’ll you have to do?”

“For starters, I’ll have to contact the garbage haulers to coordinate the collection sites. Then I must talk with the beach captains in my zone and make sure they understand about setting up the registration sites, checking in volunteers, tallying the collection data cards—that sort of thing.” She drew in a deep breath. “Last but not least is the publicity, probably the most significant part of all.”

“Meaning, undoubtedly, you’ll have to get out the word to the television and radio stations, plus the local and state newspapers.”

“Yes, but thank goodness, I’m not working alone.” The refrigerator door gave a muffled thud as she shut it. “I’m only one of many who’ve volunteered on local, state and national levels. Only problem is, it seems many people are still in the dark about the importance of it all.
There’s
never enough volunteers and the problem is especially critical in Southport.”

“Why?”

“Because of the town’s recent population explosion and popularity with tourists.
Our marine wildlife is dying. And if something isn’t done, our beaches here will be buried beneath mountains of trash.” She pointed to a stack of flyers on the counter. “I’ve got to start getting these out as soon as possible.”

“Let me help you.”

Not answering, she wrenched her eyes away from his, struggling to ignore how his nearness disturbed her. It was uncanny... and scary. Every time she looked at him, she could only see Kyle.

***

He noticed the sudden shadow darken her face. He saw that desperate, panicked look in her eyes. Was she feeling overwhelmed with the task
she’d
taken on? Or was she perhaps still thinking about the
dead sea
lion?

“What is it, Jo? Is something wrong?”

“Has... has anyone ever told you how much you look like Kyle?” she finally asked in barely a whisper.

“Yes, all the time.” Her reaction caught him totally by surprise. He flinched, his voice ragged. “I’m sorry, Jo. I never considered that.
Never for a minute.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

***

She turned to him again and said haltingly, “You needn’t apologize, Austin.
I’m
the one who should be sorry. It was selfish of me. Lately, it seems
I’m
so into myself, preoccupied with my feelings.
But I
can’t
help it
, a small voice inside of her cried.
Especially when you show up like this practically out of the blue.
And here we are already, putting away groceries together like Kyle and I used to do.

He brushed her cheek with the inside of his thumb. His touch was gentle, his skin smooth, clearly the hand of a man who spent more time at fundraisers than engaging in physical labor, she thought. Was his insistence he stay to tackle the necessary repairs really appropriate?

“You’re not selfish,” he said. “Feelings are feelings and not to be judged.”

“Yes, but I’m not the only who’s hurting. You lost Kyle too.
And what about your parents?”

With furrowed brow, he nodded towards the breakfast nook, a U-shaped green upholstered booth that wrapped around a square oak table. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About what
really
matters.
It’s high time we got past the small talk.”

Hesitating, she did as he said.

He slipped in across from her, his expression intent as he folded his long legs under the table. “So it sounds as if life has been pretty unbearable these past months...”

She poked at a crumb. “Uh-huh.
Worse than unbearable.
It’s been a nightmare, really.” She lifted her gaze to his and spied the flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes. The slanting rays of the early evening sun shimmered through the window behind him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in a low voice. “I’ll be the first to admit, I didn’t call often enough. But believe
me,
I would’ve checked in more if I’d only known.”

“I... I... thought I was strong. I thought I could handle my grief alone.” She averted her gaze. “Some people might accuse me of running away, moving to Southport like this, but... I had no choice.”

He shook his head decisively. “I believe in constructive running away as long as you aren’t trying to escape from reality. After all,
that’s
the route my folks took too. They completely uprooted themselves to devote their lives to public service. For them, that has been a powerful healing.”

“I’m afraid my escape wasn’t nearly so noble,” she answered softly, half apologetically. “It was the memories, Austin, not only my desire to come back to the coast, or because I have an aunt living here. The memories were making me crazy.”

He hesitated, rubbing his chin. “I understand. Mom and Dad have their memories, too, twenty-seven years’ worth. The house in Seattle where they raised us, Kyle’s model car collection, his rubber tire swing still hanging from the giant maple in our backyard...” His voice trailed off. “And not a day passes that I don’t think of my brother also.”

“Oh, Austin...” She back-handed the tears coursing down her cheek.
Tears of grief.
Tears of release.
For these past empty months,
she’d
felt as if no one who’d ever walked the earth could understand her emptiness.

Now her feelings gushed forth like released water from a fractured dyke. “Kyle and I... we were so in love. It just
wasn’t
fair... that he should die. He was much too young, too good, and full of life. We had too many dreams.
Kids.
A nice home.
Building our careers together.
And afterwards... after that horrible night, everywhere I turned, there was something to remind me of him. I thought, in time, the feeling would go away. But it
didn’t
. It only tormented me more.” She choked back another sob, yet it nevertheless escaped from her lips. “Sometimes at night, sometimes when I couldn’t sleep, which was most always, I’d get dressed and drive over to the house where the fire broke out. I’d park on the far side of the street, not wanting to get too close, just sitting there looking at that dreadful, charred monster, wondering what Kyle’s last thoughts might’ve been, wondering whether he suffered.”

Austin let out a low groan as he lunged to his feet and captured her hand, pulling her up to him.
“Poor Jo... how awful.
How incredibly awful.”

In an instant, his arms encompassed her, and she felt herself melting against his broad chest. The silence stretched between them as they rocked gently, consolingly, sharing their mutual loss. His embrace brought reassurance... and a sense of wonder.
This man.
So big.
So
strong
just like Kyle.

Austin’s voice rumbled against her ear as he continued to hold her. “There’s something you should know, Jo.
Something that perhaps Kyle never mentioned.”
Then he pulled back allowing a full arm’s length between them.

“What?” she asked.

Hands clasped tightly behind his back, he started to pace, his eyes downcast. “It may be true that Kyle and I look a lot alike,” he began tersely, “but that’s really where our resemblance ends. He was the rebel, I was the compliant one.” She could hear the escalating tension edging his voice, see his frown deepen. “Years ago, when Kyle was a senior in high school and I was living at home and commuting to the university,” he continued, “Kyle told Mom and Dad he wasn’t going into medicine like everyone else in the family had. At first our parents were livid,
then
eventually their anger mellowed to bitter disappointment.”

“Yes,” she said, biting her lip. “Even if Kyle hadn’t told me that, I would've sensed it anyway. The weekends your folks visited us, I caught snatches of conversation between Kyle and your father. Though it was obvious all was forgiven, they sometimes still hashed it out.”

“At least Kyle didn’t leave behind any unresolved issues between them,” he said as he stopped to angle
her a
look.

“Yes, thank goodness.” She paused, then encouraged, “But getting back to your story about Kyle’s senior year...”

He started pacing again. “Yes. That was a difficult time. And I guess I didn’t help matters either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Secretly, I admired my little brother’s gutsiness, though at first I was careful not to let our folks know. Even if I had wanted to be something other than a veterinarian, I knew that I, the dutiful elder son, would never have had the courage to strike out on my own like Kyle. Call it the prodigal son story—whatever that’s how it happened.”