Chapter Three
When Ford found himself hovering by his closed guestroom door for the billionth time in an hour, he marched out to his deck with a stop at the small bar in the den to draw himself a beer. It was either that or knock on the door and subject Lilah to all the questions and conversations he’d promised her a respite from if she crashed at his place.
As a rule, he tried to keep his promises. Which didn’t mean he couldn’t engage in some figuring on his own. Prepared to do exactly that, he leaned against the sturdy cedar rail and breathed in the cool, late May evening infused with scents of the Spruce and Hemlock that grew wild down the hillside. The low-hanging clouds and stingy slice of moon didn’t leave any traces of his peek at Captivity Cove, but in daylight he enjoyed that glimpse of blue through the gaps in the trees. After years traversing the globe per orders from Army command, living amongst a team, battling insurgents, and bringing order to chaos, he enjoyed the space, the quiet. The personal freedom.
But now, with Lilah ensconced in his guest suite, out of sight and silent as dandelion fuzz on a breeze, he found the normally tranquil isolation unsettling. Especially in contrast to the loud thoughts crashing through his mind. Did she have everything she needed? Was she hungry? Exactly how imminent was this baby?
His gut twisted uncomfortably at the last question. Her tall, willowy body barely looked pregnant to him, but simple math told a different story. Shay had died just after Thanksgiving, presumably before she realized she was pregnant since he’d died without knowing, which meant she was…third trimester?
The twist in his gut turned into a knot. The kind of knot he’d get if someone told him a time bomb ticked away in his spare room.
To loosen the tension, he took a long drink of his beer and spent a moment appreciating the balance of heavy malts and alder smoke in his latest craft brew experiment. It also occurred to him now, in retrospect, that she’d been dressing strategically all spring, in oversize hoodies, baggy sweaters, jackets. Captivity weather cooperated on stuff like that. So…yeah. Tick-tock. Did he have Dr. Devan’s number in his phone? If not, he needed to fix that pronto.
A noise behind him had him turning just as Lilah opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck. A small wave of what he recognized as relief washed through him. She looked fine. Normal. Well, she looked beautiful, as always, in her innately serene way, and most importantly for his current peace of mind, nowhere near an early stage of labor. She’d changed into a pair of lightweight, gray drawstring sweats and an oversize chambray shirt. Her bare feet barely made a sound as she crossed the deck to stand next to him and lean on the rail. “How are you holding up?”
He laughed. “That’s my line.” Turning to face her pretty profile, he searched that self-contained facade for any signs of her true mood. “How are you?”
Her lips lifted into a polite smile. “I’m fine. Thank you for letting me stay here tonight—”
“As long as you need.”
Her smile flickered as she glanced at him, and he knew he’d just toed the boundary of breaking his promise—no planning next steps. But it had to be said.
“I appreciate it. Please don’t feel like you have to hang around here on my account. I know you have a business to run.”
He rested his forearms on the railing again and stared out at the shadowy points of pine tops clawing the dense, starless sky. “Silent Mike’s holding things down,” he said, referring to his laconic short-order cook and backup bartender, “along with the summer help, including the Watkins kid, who can also tend bar and man the grill if need be.”
“Owen,” she supplied. “Home on break from his business studies at UA Anchorage.”
“Right.” He heard the wistful note in her voice loud and clear. “Where are you at with your online coursework?” Whoops. Another broken promise.
She sighed, but not in an I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it way. More of a sad sigh. “I’m nearly done with my general eds.” Another sigh. “Not that it matters anymore.”
“It matters.”
Her pained laugh cut a small slice out of his heart. “I think my dream of going away to college got deferred around the time I stepped into a hot tub last fall.”
“You never know. Can you finish your GEs before…?” He gestured in the vague direction of her stomach.
“Most likely, but what’s the point? Even if I could go somehow, my mother’s not going to pay for it. I was supposed to do online courses for two years and keep working at the inn part-time. In exchange, she’d fund my final two years at UA. That deal’s off now, as I knew it would be. Earlier this month, I deferred my admission.”
Maybe she didn’t hear the disappointment in her voice, but he did. “Deferred until when?” He hoped for a single semester. Rose would come around by then.
“For a year, as that’s the maximum length they’ll do, but I’m probably just putting off the inevitable.”
The year made him wince. He refused to consider the notion of a permanent deferment. How she could confront such a harsh prospect so calmly, without a trace of bitterness, he couldn’t fathom.
“I have a higher priority now.” Absently, she rubbed her hand over her stomach.
Okay, that was how, but he refused to let her give up on her dreams. Refused any part of that. He knew firsthand that life had many stages and people’s feelings could change—in Rose’s case, hopefully soften. “I get that the baby is a priority.” He took a drink of his beer to let his acknowledgment sink in. “But go ahead and finish the GEs anyway. There’s no downside to getting them done.” And there went another broken promise. No advice. He was on a roll.
“There might be.” She dropped her chin to her chest and let out a long breath, which put his hair-trigger system on high alert until she looked his way and smiled. “I have to find a job, Ford. A job, a place to live—as opposed to a place to stay—and I have a baby to prepare for. I don’t see a lot of extra room on my plate for classes.”
“That’s not a downside. Those are just challenges. You do the school stuff in the mornings, right? You worked either afternoons or evenings?”
“Yes, but who knows if a new job will offer me the same flexibility? I mean, Trace and Bridget have volunteered to bring me on at the airfield, but I honestly know nothing useful about their business. I can’t fix planes. I can’t fly planes. Lenna has the other aspects under control. They’d just be finding me a bunch of busywork as an excuse to give me money.”
Following impulse he didn’t stop to question, he blurted, “I can use you at The Goose.” It was 100 percent true. As high season progressed, he needed more hands, and hers were skilled. “You know our menu. You know how to serve customers. You can still have your mornings free, given we don’t open ’til eleven. I could put you on the schedule from…I don’t know…eleven thirty to eight?” He didn’t want her working late. Definitely not staying until close. “Fifteen bucks an hour, plus tips.”