The Heart of a Hero (3 page)

“Store’s about a mile up, on Main Street,” he said, when he joined her on the pier.

Zoe looked across the parking lot to the tree-lined street. A handful of cars drove by, turning right and disappearing. “I take it we’re walking,” she said, glad she had thought to wear comfortable shoes today.

“Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t.

Jake had already taken off through the parking lot and she had to scramble to catch up. A difficult task,
given he had a foot of height on her and she had to take two steps to match one of his.

“Hey!” she called out. “How about we slow it down a bit?” If she had to walk, fine, but she wasn’t going to sprint the entire way.

He stopped and if she were a betting woman, she’d say the sag in his shoulders was caused by frustration. There went any points she might have scored back at the dock. “Some of us have shorter legs,” she pointed out, in case he’d missed the obvious.

They fell back into step, albeit at a slightly slower pace. Zoe entertained herself by studying the clapboard houses and brick sidewalk. About a hundred yards in, she lost interest and decided to give conversation another shot. “I’ve never been to this section of the Vineyard. Do you make the trip often?”

“Often enough.”

“Downside of island living, I suppose. I should have thought about that before moving to one.” She’d only been thinking of getting away. “On the other hand, now I know why my mother didn’t make repairs. Too much trouble getting building supplies.”

“Most people manage.”

“Most people aren’t sequestered in an Atlanta townhome. My mother hasn’t come north since she remarried. The house was always more my father’s anyway. He was the one who planned on using it every summer. At least he did, before he got sick. I
forgot about the place myself until my divorce. Then I bought the place from her and—”

Dear God, she was babbling. Worse than babbling, she was oversharing. “Have you lived on the island long?”

“Long enough.”

Not surprisingly, Jake did the opposite and
under
shared. She plowed on, not willing to return to silence. “Growing up, my dad called Naushatucket an undiscovered paradise. Of course, I only cared about the beach, but now I can see what he meant. A person can really escape from it all there, can’t he?”

“Used to, anyway.”

A pointed hint. They stepped off the curb and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jake grimace. “Leg bothering you?” The question came out before she could stop herself.

“No.”

A lie if ever she heard one. It was obvious from the way his mouth pulled in a tight line every time he stepped off his right foot. She stared at him, silently calling him on it, until he could no longer ignore her.

“Hip,” he said. “And it always bothers me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your hip.”

No, but he was in obvious pain, and that made her feel bad. “Look, you don’t need to do the chimney today if…”

Wrong thing to say. Sunglasses or no sunglasses, she could feel the heat of his stare bearing down on her. “You asked me to clean your chimney today—I’ll clean the damn thing today.”

With that, he picked up his pace as if proving a point. “I’ll live with the pain.”

Jake’s hip throbbed so much he had to clench his jaw from the pain. A doctor would probably tell him he was being a stubborn fool. That he was making himself suffer needlessly. Of course, Jake would debate that last word.
Needlessly.
He was pretty damn certain his suffering was justified. Though he did feel a little bad for dragging the Bird Whisperer along.

Speaking of which… He felt her cast another look in his direction, setting his nerves on edge. Since his discharge he’d gotten all kinds of looks. The discreet. The openly gaping. The disgustingly compassionate. All of them with some sort of awe, as if he were a freaking hero.

Little Miss Bird-Whisperer’s looks, though… God, but he could feel her pale blue eyes scanning his profile. His skin prickled with the awareness. Without turning, he could picture them wide and curious. Like she was trying to see inside him or something. It irritated the hell out of him. What had made him say yes to her job offer in the first place?

He had bills to pay, that was what. And hanging around the house did nothing but make his thoughts
loud, and they were loud enough this morning as it was. A project was exactly what he needed to drown them out for a little while.

The morning overcast had finally burned off, allowing the sun to take hold and warm the air. Jake felt the sweat starting to trickle down the back of his neck. Zoe had peeled off her grey sweatshirt. Jake tried not to notice her bright orange T-shirt or how it fit a little too snugly over her breasts. He was trying not to pay attention to her at all—a desire she seemed intent on disrupting at every opportunity.

“How much farther ’til we get to the store?” she asked.

“Couple blocks.” Normally the walk didn’t take that long; this morning it was taking forever. He blamed his impossible-to-ignore companion.

“Mind if we stop at that coffee shop on the corner first? I don’t know about you, but I could use a cold drink. I’ll even pa—”

The words were barely out of her mouth when she stumbled over a dip in the sidewalk. Jake reacted automatically, reaching out with a hand to grab her arm, and caught her as she fell forward. It was a mistake. Catching her meant looking in her direction. Suddenly he had an up-close view of what he’d been trying to ignore. He saw freckles kissing the bridge of a windblown nose and strands of black hair wisping over surprised eyes. A long-dormant awareness,
unbidden and unwanted, began stirring somewhere deep inside him.

Quickly, he let go. “You can get your drink if you want. I’ll meet you at the hardware store,” he said, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.

To hell with his no-credit policy. Next time he’d make this trip alone and bill her.

Unlike the store in Pitcher’s Hole, this particular store was large and well-stocked. Jake used the place whenever he had a large or unusual job. He liked it because they left him alone and he could therefore avoid small talk, something his companion apparently thrived on. As soon as they walked in the door, she’d sought out a clerk and was currently engrossed in a conversation about outdoor lighting. At least it was supposed to be about lighting. He hadn’t thought that a terribly amusing topic, and they seemed to be chuckling a little too heartily. Somewhere in between laughs, he caught the word
dachshund
.

“I was telling Javier how Reynaldo seems determined to hang out in your yard,” Zoe said when he approached. “He thinks Rey’s chasing chipmunks.”

“My cousin had a dachshund,” the clerk said. “They’re big hunters.”

“What’s wrong with the chipmunks in his yard?” Jake grumbled.

The young man shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Not in his yard, that’s where. “Got what I need,” he said to Zoe.

The look she gave the clerk was apologetic, as if
he
were the one holding up the process. “Thanks for the suggestion,” she said, smiling. “But I’ll go with the single spotlight. Javier recommended I get a double one to better keep an eye on Reynaldo, but that might shine a little too brightly into your backyard.”

She turned her smile on him, and Jake could practically see the sarcasm behind her expression.

Suddenly they were interrupted by a pair of men in maintenance uniforms. Jake was about to tell them to find another clerk when he realized they weren’t there for hardware supplies. Their faces were pale and somber.
“É Ernesto,”
they said.
“Está morto.”

Morto. Dead.
His body began to shake. There were more words.
Accident. Car.
Bits and pieces of an explanation that drifted to him from far away, like words whispered in a tunnel. Black closed in him, eating away reality.

Get out. Take cover.

No, no, that wasn’t right.
Get to fresh air.
He needed fresh air.

Miles away he saw a doorway. And light. Light meant safety.
There. Go there.
His thoughts were thick and muddled as he staggered toward it, faintly aware of a bell ringing as he lunged toward the parking lot. The sea breeze burnt his lungs as he gulped one ragged breath after another. He made his way
across the parking lot, toward the Dumpster across the street. He gripped the front bar, squeezing as tightly as his hands would allow. Stutteringly, his mind began listing his surroundings. Garbage. Blue Dumpster. Gray gravel. He tried to remind himself he wasn’t in that place anymore.

“Jake? Jake?”

A voice, soft and gentle, beckoned from the side of the confusion. He squeezed the Dumpster bar tighter, breathing in the stench of garbage, letting the pungency bring him back.

“Jake?” Suddenly the voice was closer and he felt a hand on his shoulder. The touch was tender, soothing. It promised comfort. Peace.

Somehow he managed to turn his head in the voice’s direction.

“Are you all right? Did something happen?” Zoe was asking.

The sympathy in her pale blue eyes did more than any grounding technique. Reality crashed back, reminding him where he was and why.

Humiliation swept over him. “I’m fine,” he said, pushing off both from the bar and her touch. “I needed some fresh air is all.”

“In front of a garbage Dumpster?” She forced herself back into his line of vision. “Was it those two guys? I don’t speak Spanish, but…”

“Portuguese. They were speaking Portuguese, not Spanish.”

“All right, I don’t speak Portuguese, either. Still, I could tell the news wasn’t good. The look on Javier’s face didn’t look good.”

“A car accident killed their friend.”

Her hand flew to her lips. “My God. That’s terrible. Did you know—?”

“No.” His skin was clammy and cold. No, he didn’t know the man, but he knew the loss. God, but he knew the loss. I just needed air,” he lied again. “Stomach’s bothering me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” His reply was rougher than necessary, but he didn’t care. He could still feel the memory of Zoe’s hand on his shoulder. That the sensation remained made his heart race, and not in a good way. He didn’t deserve to feel anything, least of all comfort. “Let’s just go back and ring up the supplies.”

“The manager already is. He’s going to load up his truck and drive us back to the dock.”

Good. The sooner they got back, the sooner he could lose himself in work, which meant the sooner he could bury his thoughts.

Along with the sensation of Zoe’s touch, still lingering on his skin.

What on earth had she witnessed?

One moment they were buying supplies, the next Jake was bolting for the door. Common sense told her to leave well enough alone. She had enough on
her plate putting the pieces of her life back together without getting involved in someone else’s problems. Only she’d never been very good at leaving anything alone. Not when someone might need her.

Besides, Jake hadn’t said a word since they’d left the hardware store and the continual silence ate at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked when they’d finished transferring the supplies from Jake’s boat to the back of his truck.

“Talk about what?”

“What happened back on the Vineyard? In the parking lot?”

“I told you—I needed fresh air.”

“Right, and I’m tall enough to play professional basketball.” She didn’t buy his excuse for a second. Something had upset him—terrified him, nearly—and she was pretty sure it had to do with the conversation they’d overheard. “Were you in a car accident?”

The laugh he gave her was part amused, part mocking. “No,” he replied, climbing into the driver’s seat.

But he had been in some kind of accident. Those scars and that limp didn’t appear by magic. Taking a page from his book, she stared straight ahead, pretending to watch the road rise over the bluff. “I only ask because sometimes hearing bad news can trigger—”

“Will you leave it alone?” The sharpness in his voice made her jump. “I wanted some air so I went outside. End of story. Now, for God’s sake, would you let the subject drop?”

“I’m simply—”

He whipped around. “I said drop it!”

Suddenly Zoe understood. There, in the confines of his pickup, she saw what he hid beneath the layers of inapproachability.

Pain.

Not physical pain, like his hip. No, this kind of pain ran deeper and stronger. It was the kind of pain medicine couldn’t help. The kind that ripped a man’s insides apart.

Zoe’s own insides hurt for him. “I’m sorry,” she replied, meaning far more than her earlier intrusion.

She watched as he dragged a shaky hand across the back of his neck. Maybe it was her tone, or the fact that she’d apologized, but some of the edge left his voice. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Okay.” She’d do what he wanted and let the subject drop. For now.

I
NSTALLING
a dog run was harder than it sounded. For starters, pine trees didn’t come with predrilled holes, meaning she had to figure out a way to attach the rope to the trunk. The easiest solution was to simply tie the rope around the trunk, but she couldn’t get the knot tight enough. Her efforts kept sliding down to the ground, leaving her no choice but to screw a hook directly into the wood. Hopefully doing so wouldn’t hurt the tree.

Jake would know whether it did or not, but she didn’t want to ask. As it was, she felt amazingly self-conscious while she was working, convinced he was watching her miscues, and thinking her a royal idiot. No need to compound the situation with silly questions.

Her eyes strayed to the roof, where the handyman was busy attacking her chimney. Lovable chimney sweep from the children’s movies he was not. He jammed the hard-bristled brush up and down with such fury, the creosote didn’t stand a chance. Working
out the pain from before, maybe? What was his story anyhow?

Beads of sweat had formed on the bridge of her nose, causing her glasses to slide. Taking them off, she wiped her damp skin with her sleeve. Man, but it was hot. She wasn’t used to physical labor in the heat. If installing a doggy run counted as labor, that was. Still, she was hot and sticky. Jake had to be even stickier. He was working three times as hard and had yet to take a break.

“I’m grabbing a cold drink,” she called up to him. “Do you want one?”

He shook his head and, after pausing briefly to wipe the sweat from his face, continued working.

“Talk about stubborn,” Zoe said to Reynaldo. The dachshund was laid out dozing on the concrete step. “He wouldn’t accept my offer of a drink while we were on the Vineyard, he wouldn’t take one after his ‘fresh air break,’ and now he’s still refusing. Either the man’s impervious to heat or he wants to be hot and miserable.” After today’s events, she was leaning toward the latter.

“Well, I don’t care how often he refused, he
has
to be thirsty. I am.”

She grabbed two bottles of ice water from the kitchen fridge and made her way to the ladder propped on the side of the house.

When she reached the roof, she saw Jake had finished his chimney assault. He stood with his back
to her, breathing hard. Sweat and soot had turned his light gray T-shirt dark and heavy. The material stuck to his upper back like a dirty second skin. Zoe couldn’t help noticing the muscles underneath. She was close enough that she could see the way they rippled like water every time he breathed deep. A wave of female awareness coiled through her. Even standing still, he moved with grace. Her fingers twitched a little as she wondered what the view might look like beneath the cotton. Was it as hard and taut as the rest of him?

Flushing, she cleared her thoughts and her throat. “I decided to bring you a drink anyway.”

His spine stiffened, and she could tell, despite making noise, she’d startled him, making her feel all the more like a voyeur for her earlier thoughts. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were deep in thought. Here.”

“Do you always do what you want regardless of what people tell you?”

Talk about a loaded comment. Thoughts of Paul came to mind. “Unfortunately, yes. See, it’s kind of my job to know best. Ever hear of ‘Ask Zoe’?”

“No.”

She wasn’t surprised. He didn’t strike her as the type to peruse the arts and lifestyle section. “It’s a nationally syndicated advice column. People write in and ask me what they should do.”

“And you tell them.”

“That’s the point of asking me, isn’t it?”

“What if you’re wrong?”

What if,
indeed. “Anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “as far as bringing you water, I prefer to use the term
executive overruling
. I don’t need you getting light-headed from dehydration and falling off my roof.”

Jake slipped the water from her hand. “Afraid of a lawsuit?”

“One big payout a year is enough, thank you.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she winced. Once again, she’d said too much. From the way Jake knit his brow, he must have caught her reaction as well. Shoot. Now she felt compelled to explain. “Expensive divorce. And before you say anything, yes, I’m aware of how ironic my situation sounds.”

“Ironic?”

“A divorced advice columnist.” She tried for a self-deprecating smile. “Guess I
can
be wrong sometimes.”

She was grateful that Jake didn’t reply; he was too busy draining his unwanted water bottle. Zoe tried not to notice the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow or how his biceps bulged from one simple bend of his arm.

Instead, she turned her attention to the shore across the street. There weren’t many places where you could get a better bird’s-eye view of the island.
Below them, Naushatucket spread out in beige, navy and green glory.

She scrambled up the last couple of rungs to get a better look, realizing only when she reached her destination how steeply pitched the Cape Cod-style roof was. Standing was awkward at best.

Pressing a hand to the chimney for support, she sat down. Across the street, the beach was mostly empty. The waves rolled gently toward them, their swells dark curves on the water’s surface.

To her surprise, Jake lowered himself next to her. She could feel him looking at her. Zoe continued watching the waves. He’d spent the better part of the day ignoring her existence; she could do the same.

Except she hadn’t counted on his attention making her skin twitch. Did the man always stare so intently? Even now, his gaze felt like it was looking inside her rather than at her.

“What?” she asked finally.

“Chimney’s done,” he replied. “You can use it tonight.”

“Yay!” she cheered, although sitting in this heat, it was hard to remember why she’d needed a working fireplace to begin with.

She returned to studying the waves, the view turning her thoughtful. It didn’t take long for those thoughts to become words. “There’s something very centering about the islands, don’t you think?”

“If you say so.”

“Seriously. The idea of land, solid and strong, while surrounded by water. Can’t get much more centered than that.” Thoughts of her failures bubbled to the surface. “It’s why I bought this place, you know. I was hoping some of that balance would rub off on me.”

“How metaphysical of you.”

“I take it you disagree with my theory.”

Jake shrugged. “You can have any theory you want.”

“From your tone, though, you don’t believe a place can rub off on you.”

“Rub off on you? Sure. But what you’re talking about is a sense of peace.” He raised the bottle to his mouth. “Big difference,” he muttered over the rim. “Helluva big difference.”

Zoe wondered if he meant for his sigh to be so long or so sad. She waited for him to go on, hoping for more explanation, but he simply tossed his empty water bottle over the edge of the roof. “Flashing around your chimney needs replacing,” he said. “And you’ve got some loose shingles. Maybe even some soft spots in the wood.”

Once again changing the subject. They were both, it appeared, quite adept at doing so. “That your way of telling me I need a new roof?”

“Depends,” he replied with a shrug. “How badly do you want water leaking in?”

Short answer? She didn’t. Neither did she relish
spending a lot of money on home repairs, which it looked like she was about to do. Damn her mother and Charles for not paying attention to this place.

It was her turn to sigh. “I don’t suppose you know how to repair roofs.”

“I’ve fixed one or two.”

“Think you can fix this one?”

“Maybe.”

Not the answer she wanted to hear. Why bring the darn repairs up, if he wasn’t looking for the work?

Jake had pushed himself to his feet. Zoe immediately scrambled after him, except she lacked his innate grace and immediately began wobbling on the pitched slope. For the second time that day, a strong hand wrapped around her forearm, steadying her.

“Thank you,” she murmured. Awareness had pooled at the spot where Jake’s skin met hers. In the back of her mind, she noted that for a firm grip, his touch was surprisingly light and gentle. “Guess I won’t be dancing on rooftops anytime soon,” she said, attempting a smile.

The attempt wasn’t returned. “You’ve got droppings,” he said.

“What?”

“On the chimney. Probably bats.”

Did he say bats? A shiver ran through her, and not the good kind of shiver, either. “Like in get-in-your-hair carry-rabies bats?” As if there were any other kind.

This time there was an attempted smile, or at least he quirked the corner of his mouth. “Afraid you’ll have to mount another rescue mission?”

“Try attack. Are you sure there are bats?”

“Don’t usually get guano otherwise.”

And here she’d thought the swallow was her only pest problem. Bats? The very idea they could be living in her crawl spaces would keep her up all night. Turning her face to his, she mustered her best desperate expression. Not all that hard to do, seeing as she was desperate.

“Can you help me?” she asked him. “Please?”

The sigh Jake gave this time held an additional note. One that she swore sounded a lot like defeat. Zoe watched as he opened his mouth to speak, stopped and then looked down to where he still held her arm. The awareness flared anew. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat.

“I’ll have to let you know.”

She was waiting for a better answer; Jake could tell. But he was purposely ignoring the flash of orange perched on his ladder. If he looked, he would only find himself staring. It’d been happening all day. As long as she was near his line of sight, his eyes would find her. It was driving him mad. And the way his skin felt whenever he touched her, like it was alive… Well, he didn’t like that, either.

So instead of looking, he forced his attention onto
the chimney. What he should have done was go home after that debacle in the store, but home would have only made his mood worse. When working he could bury the thoughts for a little while, ’til he collapsed in a heap of numbness and exhaustion. At least he used to be able to, before bright orange T-shirts and bouncy ponytails got in the way.

Why did he have to bring up the bats? Or the fact he was the only handyman on the island for that matter? Now, he was stuck. Only a coldhearted bastard could look at her face, with that quivering lower lip of hers, and say no. He had no choice but to help her now.

From below he could hear that damn dachshund yipping, followed by Zoe’s admonishment to be patient. Sounded like the dog needed centering, too. Imagine thinking you could find peace by staying here on Naushatucket. If only it were that simple. Someone needed to tell her the truth: once you step on the wrong path, no amount of “balance” or redirection will make up for the distance you’ve already traveled. You can’t go back. To use her word from this morning: life didn’t come with do-overs.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the potential bat infestation dominating Zoe’s thoughts the rest of the day, but the man sweeping her chimney.

On second thought, maybe it wasn’t so surprising. After all, he’d been stuck in her head before the
bat news; why wouldn’t he stay there? Especially after hearing that long, sad sigh. The sound was now permanently merged with the memory of his expression outside the hardware store. So much pain and so many impenetrable layers. She wondered if anyone could ever get through them all to help.

“He’s definitely a puzzle begging to be solved,” she remarked to Reynaldo as they snuggled on the sofa later that night.

You’re doing it again,
the voice chimed.
Getting sucked in.
She couldn’t resist a challenge any more than she could a sad story. Maybe if she could, she’d have seen the truth about Paul a lot sooner.

The fire in her newly cleaned fireplace crackled merrily, the flame painting the living room a soft orange. Yawning, Zoe tugged the comforter from off the back of the sofa and draped it over her and Reynaldo. A day of exertion in the sun had left her drowsy and more than a little stiff. She wondered how Jake’s hip was doing. He’d been limping pretty badly when she saw him finally drag that ladder across the backyard.

Don’t start, Zoe.

Her subconscious had a point. She had hundreds of readers looking for her advice. If she was desperate to solve other people’s problems, she should focus on them, not the neighbor who had quite clearly told her to butt out.

Still, seeing the pain in those green eyes…

At some point she must have drifted off because before she realized it the pillow beneath her cheek was buzzing. Her cell phone, she realized drowsily. Probably Caroline, calling to nag her about this week’s column. She never balked at calling at weird hours and the column was overdue.

“I’m working on it, Caroline,” she barked into the transmitter. “No need to check in daily.”

“You work too hard, babe.”

Paul.
Zoe nearly dropped the phone. She hadn’t heard his voice in months. Not since she walked out. Hearing it now made her stomach drop.

Balling her free hand into a fist, she took a deep breath, willing her insides to still. “What do you want?” she managed to ask.

“Since when does a guy need an excuse to call his wife?”

“Ex-wife.” Now she was over the shock, clarity was setting in. Thankfully. “I distinctly remember sending you papers. We’re no longer married.”

“I’ll always think of us as married in my heart.”

Didn’t he mean wallet? “So much so you haven’t tried to contact me since February.”

“I wanted to give you your space.”

“My space.” He’d certainly given her that, and then some.

“Because I knew I screwed up.” There was a pause. She imagined him chewing his thumb; he always did
when nervous or deep in thought. “Truth is, I wasn’t sure you’d talk to me.”

“What makes you think I’m willing to talk with you now?”

He chuckled. “You answered the phone, didn’t you?”

“Because I thought you were Caroline. I can still hang up, and I will, unless you tell me why you’re calling.”