Low Country Hero Page 5

  “I... Never mind,” she said, and turned to look out the window, and then her phone buzzed. She looked at it, frowned. “Hello?” she said, and then, “Yes, that’s me.”

  There was a lot of talking on the other end. Anna’s fingers gripped the edge of her shirt tighter and tighter. “It was for their safety!” she said finally.

  Sean kept driving, glancing over at her from time to time.

  “It turns out we weren’t married, although he defrauded me into thinking so.”

  Not good. Sean kept his eyes on the road.

  She went on talking into the phone. “Being married to two women at once is illegal. And I don’t see how he has any claim on my children.”

  Sean’s head jerked to stare at her for a split second. Bigamy? Really?

  She listened some more. Frowned and glanced over at Sean. “How about if I can prove abuse?” she asked quietly.

  There was a long period where Anna didn’t talk. Then: “He’s not a safe man, Mr. Rubin, and if you’ve gotten to know him at all you’d realize that. If not, I’m happy to provide physical evidence. All you need is a subpoena.” She clicked off the phone and stared out the window.

  Whatever problems she had must have just gotten worse. He looked over at her, and when she brushed the back of her hand over her cheek with an angry gesture, he realized she was crying.

  Oh man. Crying women turned him to mush. “Where will you go when you get your car fixed?”

  She cleared her throat. “That’s the million-dollar question.”

  “You know,” he said, against his better judgment, “there are worse places to be than Safe Haven. There are good people here, and Yasmin runs a decent women’s shelter. Tourist season’s heating up, so there are jobs.”

  She didn’t answer, but her stillness told him she was listening.

  “Look, I don’t have the right to offer you shelter at the cottages myself, but I can check with management and see if we can let you slide by for a while. Maybe in exchange for some work.”

  She sniffled and blew her nose, not answering.

  What was he doing? He needed to be kicking her out, not inviting her to stay.

  It was the wretched tears, plus the fact that her situation mirrored what he’d gone through as a kid a little too closely for comfort. Women in trouble, especially those with kids, tugged at his heart extra hard.

  He pulled up to the gate, got out and unlocked it. When he came back toward the truck, he realized that one of the twins had woken up and was talking. “Can we go to the library like that lady said, Mommy?” Sean heard her say.

  Now that he’d realized she didn’t like to talk in front of people, he paid attention. Her voice sounded sweet through the open truck window, and she was perfectly articulate. No speech impediment, no vocabulary problem.

  “I don’t know, honey.”

  “I want to go, Mommy! I want to stay here and go to the library and play on that playground.” The voice was getting sulky now. “And have friends. And not have to stay in the house all the time. And Hope does, too.”

  Sean blew out a breath, watching as Anna closed her eyes for a second, like she was gathering her strength. He wondered about her past, what she’d lived with, what the girls had lived with.

  Protective urges surged inside him, but he had to be careful. He’d had the same feelings toward Gabby. He’d been so protective that, one day when she wasn’t feeling well, he’d gone back home midday to check on her.

  And he’d gotten an eyeful that he dearly wished to forget.

  Anna’s plight got to him, which was natural given his own history. But trusting her—trusting any woman—was a risk he wasn’t quite ready to take.

  Knowing what he did about his own father, he’d made the decision early on that he wouldn’t have children himself. The bad blood he carried would stop with him. And that meant he needed to steer clear of a woman like Anna, whose very identity centered around her kids.

  Because the tug he felt toward her and her girls wasn’t just the ordinary kindness you’d show any person in need. Anna and her girls touched his heart, and that was dangerous.

  So he’d check with Eldora about whether she could stay on awhile, even do some work around the place, but if Eldora said yes, Sean would keep his emotional distance from Anna.

  The whole thing was a confusing mess, just what he’d come out to the marshes to avoid. He got back in the truck and heard the tail end of a word. Then the twin who’d been talking clamped her mouth shut.

  He frowned, concerned against his own will. The twins’ talking issue needed fixing. And he had the feeling that Miss Violet, or Yasmin, would have some good ideas about how.

  When he dropped them off at Cabin Three, she told the girls to run ahead and then turned back to him. “Look, I appreciate your help with the groceries. And if you can talk to the people who own this place about my staying in exchange for work, I would be grateful.” She paused, her hand clenching on the doorjamb of the truck.

  “But...” he prompted, and watched her fish for words. Even in the bright afternoon sun, her skin shone flawless—except for faint dark circles under those big green eyes. She glanced toward the cabin, gave an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up to Hope, who sat on the little porch step, watching them.

  Anna was so young to have so much on her shoulders. His heart seemed to expand, wanting to reach out toward her.

  “Look,” she said, “I’m going to get the girls settled and fix them some food. But there’s something—someone—I need to discuss with you before we could even consider the possibility of staying. Can we talk later today?” When he nodded, she spun and marched toward the cottage and her girls, her back very straight.

  He should be glad to hear that she had reservations about staying, because he sure had his share of reservations about getting more involved with her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON at exactly three o’clock, Rita Tomlinson brushed her hands down the sides of her best black skirt and pulled open the door of the Southern Comfort Café.

  She really wanted this job.

  The fragrances—pies baking, burgers frying and coffee brewing—filled her senses and calmed her down. The bang and clatter of dishes and soft Southern accents somehow sounded like home, even though this wasn’t her home.

  “Rita?” A man her age, maybe a little older but surely not sixty with those muscles, held out a hand. He wore an open-collar dress shirt and dark pants, typical restaurant manager attire, but his shaved head and the tattoo peeking out from rolled-up sleeves suggested another side to him. “Jimmy Cooper. Come on back where it’s quiet.”

  The café was about half-full, a mix of young and old, black and white, some late lunchers and some who’d clearly stopped in for an afternoon snack or coffee. The decor was classic: chrome and vinyl chairs surrounding aluminum-edged tables, retro pictures and record album covers on the walls, a row of stools at a long lunch counter.

  Jimmy—or should she call him Mr. Cooper?—indicated the back booth on one side of the café, and as she slid in, she noticed his subtle once-over. She was old enough not to mind. Her looks had held up okay, but at fifty-six, the attention she’d gotten twenty years ago was a thing of the past.

  And who knew: maybe she’d been a real looker back in her teens. The thought bounced into her mind and knocked at her confidence, and she lobbed it away. Years of experience had taught her it was best to avoid thinking about the missing part of her past.

  They made a little small talk and then she handed him her résumé, which he took the time to scan.

  “Good experience,” he said when he looked up. “You’ve waitressed mostly in truck stops, though. Our clientele is a little more...” He trailed off.

  “Refined? I can clean up my grammar.”

  That made him laugh. “Believe me, yours is better than mo
st I interview. And our clientele is mixed. We’ve got everything from local homeless to rich tourists looking for an authentic Southern breakfast.”

  “How are the tips here? And the food?” Of course he wouldn’t talk down his own restaurant, but she needed to know she could speak her mind, that he wasn’t expecting her to act like she didn’t know which end was up.

  “Most people tip well. Food is excellent. Our cooks are experienced, mostly been here quite a while.” He went back to studying her résumé.

  She hoped the cooks hadn’t been here for twenty years or longer. All the reconstructive plastic surgery had changed her, but she didn’t know how much. She didn’t need to get recognized before she figured things out.

  He looked up and tapped the résumé. “So, Maine? That’s a far cry from South Carolina.”

  “I’m ready for a change. I still need to work, but I’m gonna play like I’m retired in my off hours, and I’d rather do it on the beach than the ski slopes.”

  “Found a place to live yet?” He looked a little skeptical, and she could understand why. People just passing through tended to apply for jobs like these.

  “Just signed my lease yesterday,” she said. “I’m living in a little rental a couple blocks over. Magnolia Manor apartments? I can walk to work.” Which was one reason she’d chosen the place and why she wanted this job. “But I do have a car,” she added quickly, to show that she was stable and dependable.

  He looked down at her résumé again, and she took the opportunity to scope out the restaurant. The two waitresses she could see—one behind the counter and one carrying a tray to a table—were hustling, busy, but she noticed they stopped to chat with the customers. Nice. For some people, their meal out was the only social contact they had all day, and Rita liked to take the time to joke around with them, give them a laugh or a boost.

  “Any arrests?” Jimmy looked at her hard.

  “No, sir. And I never took a penny from a cash register. Good with math, too, not like the kids. I don’t need the calculator on my phone to count change.”

  He smiled, and a little zing of recognition passed between them, making Rita’s pulse rate speed up a little. It might be fun to work here in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

  “Do you need benefits, or are you on your husband’s plan?”

  Oldest way in the world to find out marital status. She wondered whether it was because Jimmy preferred married waitresses for stability or because he preferred her single for other reasons. “No husband,” she said, “and, yes, benefits would be a help. I’m surprised you offer them.”

  “I like to do the right thing by my employees. In return, I hope they won’t dump me for the first fancy seafood restaurant that offers them a job.” His brown eyes were still studying her in that thoughtful way that made her glad she wasn’t a liar or trying to cover something up.

  Well, in a way she wasn’t.

  “I’m not a fancy person,” she said truthfully. “This is my kind of place.”

  They talked through more of the details, uniforms, paperwork and mandatory drug testing, and she realized halfway through the conversation that she had the job. He confirmed it by asking, “When can you start?”

  “Tomorrow, if you’d like. Or do we have to wait for uniforms and test results?”

  “Just wear a white shirt and black pants. I’ll get you a couple of aprons in back.”

  “Great. Glad you don’t do the old-fashioned diner uniforms.”

  He chuckled. “You’d look good in one, but no. Pants are more practical and more comfortable.” Then he smacked his forehead. “Not supposed to make any personal comments about an employee. Forget I said that.”

  “If that’s the worst you say, I’m fine.” Like her, Jimmy was old enough to have grown up before political correctness. And while she welcomed all the improvements for working women, she wasn’t one to turn away a kindly-meant compliment.

  He led her back into the kitchen, and again, it was a familiar world. Huge pots simmered on the stove, and she peeked into a couple, spotting collard greens and bean soup. She inhaled the smells and appreciated the laughing and joking, and the fact that the fun didn’t stop when Jimmy came around. Meant he probably wasn’t a jerk as a boss.

  He introduced her to the two younger cooks and then to a tall, white-haired, stoop-shouldered African American man. “This is Abel. He’s been here longer than I have and knows everything.”

  The man laughed quietly. “Not the case, but I’ve fried a few eggs in my day.” He leaned down to look at Rita more closely. “Seems like I’ve met you before.”

  Rita’s heart pounded, both with fear and hope that he might know something about her past. But she shook her head. She didn’t recognize him. “I doubt it.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “Really?” And then he seemed to read something in her eyes. “Beg your pardon, ma’am. I must be thinking of somebody else.”

  As they said their goodbyes and Rita walked out of her new place of employment, she fingered her necklace, the sea turtle, palm tree and shark’s tooth that she’d been wearing when T-Bone had found her. She didn’t know much. But she did know she’d had to come back here if she was to ever recover that part of her life.

  She just hoped she liked what she discovered.

  * * *

  SATURDAY AFTERNOON, ANNA cleaned up the cabin and fixed the girls real homemade mac and cheese from the groceries they’d bought. The domestic activities soothed her. She could arrange the little cottage the way she wanted to. Didn’t have to worry about whether the dinner would be to Beau’s liking, and what would happen if it wasn’t. Could wear her old clothes and forget about makeup.

  She could almost forget about the possibility of Beau tracking them down.

  After dinner, she gave in to the twins’ begging about going down to the beach. It wasn’t a hardship. As a child, on that one family vacation, she’d fallen in love with the ocean. When she’d gotten back home, she’d bought beach posters and worn beach perfume, all of which seemed outlandish in Montana, but she’d always dreamed of coming back.

  Just not under these circumstances.

  Anna’s heart almost burst when she saw the sea, foamy waves crashing rhythmically to a white sand beach. Beside her, the girls went still, their eyes wide.

  This was the scene she’d dreamed of, locked inside the house in frigid Montana. Warm sand under her feet, sea breeze in her hair and the delight of the girls’ faces as they took in the ocean for the first time.

  “It’s big!” Hope said finally.

  “What’s that noise?” Hayley asked.

  “It’s the waves,” Anna explained. “Come on. Take off your shoes. It’s too cold to swim, but we can wade in the water.”

  Hayley kicked off her sneakers and sprinted toward the ocean, and Anna called her back and gave both girls a serious safety lecture. Jellyfish stings were nothing to laugh about, and riptides could sweep away a grown person, let alone a five-year-old.

  Once they’d given her a solemn promise to stay together and at the very edge of the water, not in deep, she hugged them and shooed them off. “Go have fun. Careful fun.”

  Then she watched as they ran ahead of her, holding hands. She blinked back surprising tears and looked up at the sky, going golden as the sun sank lower. If only they could have come here without all the trauma beforehand, for a vacation.

  But being here with Beau would have been no vacation at all.

  Shaking off that thought, she followed the girls and waded in, relishing the cold water around her ankles, the sand squishing up under her feet. Hayley was already ankle deep, jumping and splashing and squealing, but Hope hung back.

  “Just stand a little closer and the water will come to you,” she encouraged her shy one, and Hope inched forward. When water washed over her toes, she giggled and took another small step.

&nbs
p; “I’m not afraid like she is,” Hayley boasted. But when a big wave came in, wetting her up to her knees, she leaped back into Anna’s arms.

  They played and ran and laughed until the western sky turned a gorgeous shade of orange-pink. Not wanting to leave the beach quite yet, Anna pulled spoons and cups—makeshift beach toys—from the bag she’d brought, and showed the girls how to build a sandcastle.

  They got engrossed, and Anna stood and stretched her back.

  When she looked toward the dunes, there was Sean, headed their way. He’d kicked his shoes off, too. Wearing loose beach shorts and an old T-shirt, he looked like something out of a surfer magazine.

  For giants. Anna swallowed.

  “Having fun?” he asked, smiling toward the twins, who were too caught up in their castle building to notice him.

  “Yeah. It’s their first time at the beach.” Then, because she was so tempted to relax and enjoy his company, she got right to business. “What’s up? Did you talk to the cottages’ owner?”

  “Yes, and she okayed your staying here for a week or two, more if it works out,” he said. “She has a soft spot in her heart for women and children in need.”

  “How much did you tell her?” Anna asked, feeling uneasy. The more people who knew about her and the girls, the more chance Beau would find them.

  “Just enough. As long as your references check out and you do a good job, you can stay as long as the work lasts. You have references?”

  “A couple.” Her friend Sheila and a long-ago pastor. She hoped it was enough.

  “It’s mostly physical labor, cleaning and landscaping.” He studied her, curiosity darkening his eyes. “Don’t know if you’d be interested. It’s not exactly glamorous.”

  Anna lifted her chin. “Physical labor is fine with me.”

  “Mommy!” Hope shouted, then clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized Sean was there. She hunched and turned back to the sandcastle, blocking the adults out.

  “Are they scared of me? Is that why they don’t talk?” Sean asked quietly.