Her Summer Refuge, page 4
“Unless you don’t want to talk about it, Jessa.”
Affection warmed her and she met Will’s gaze. He truly cared about what had happened to her. And for that reason alone, she wanted to tell him. “I met Philippe when I was a sophomore at NYU. He was foreign and exciting, and he swept me off my feet.” She didn’t add that he also made her forget about Will, something she hadn’t been able to do for two years. “After we graduated, he asked me to go to France with him. I agreed. Philippe had a great job offer in Paris and we lived in a fabulous apartment. We traveled all throughout Europe on his weekends off. But I couldn’t stay there forever on a work visa, so he asked me to marry him. My father was upset. He had never met Philippe, and to be honest, I didn’t want him to. I knew Dad would never approve.” Philippe had led a fast life, something her father wouldn’t understand—and something she understood all too well by the end. Besides, her dad still had hopes that Jessa would end up with Will. “But I married him anyway.”
She lowered her hands into her lap, thinking about those hard years. “It didn’t take long for me to realize Philippe was in financial trouble. He spent money extravagantly. We lost the apartment, then creditors began to call. Eventually, scary men showed up at all hours of the day and night, demanding that he pay them. I didn’t realize until later that he was gambling with some pretty powerful people. He’d lost his job but hadn’t told me.” She shrugged. “I didn’t mean to get pregnant. By that time, we were living in an apartment that wasn’t fit for the rats that infested it. I was scared and had nowhere to turn. I was embarrassed to tell my dad what was happening—and then I found out he was sick. There was no money to come home—and, even if I did, I knew my dad would be disappointed in me. I couldn’t let his last impression be a bad one.” She shook her head, tears burning the backs of her eyes. “I will regret not coming home for the rest of my life.”
Will didn’t move as he listened to Jessa, but she knew he was sad from her story. She could see it in the way his mouth turned down at the corners.
“I guess you know the rest. Philippe left a month ago—leaving me with nothing.”
Will moved away from the counter and offered his hand to Jessa.
She looked up at him, questioning him with her eyes, but she placed her hand in his.
He drew her to her feet and then took her into his arms, wrapping her in a hug that was both tender and powerful. Meant to comfort, heal and understand.
The tears began and she wept against his chest.
He held her tight, whispering soothing words, as she let out all the pain, all the guilt and all the fear that had been constant companions for the past few years.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this, Jessa,” he whispered. “If I could take it all away from you, I would.”
She clung to him, thankful for his friendship, for caring about her, even though she had hurt him. “Thank you.”
Her tears subsided and she felt like she had better control over her emotions, so she pulled back, embarrassed for wetting his shoulder, hoping she didn’t look like a swollen mess.
Will grabbed a tissue from a box nearby and handed it to her.
Jessa wiped her eyes and nose, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had admitted the truth to Will, and he didn’t look at her like she was damaged.
He looked at her like she was precious.
Her heart was so broken, so raw with grief, that she knew she couldn’t trust it. She would never hurt Will again—not for anything in the world. This affection she felt for him had to be locked away. She couldn’t let her heart soften toward him again—for her sake, for her baby’s sake—but, especially, for Will’s sake.
Jessa had too many mistakes in her past to tell her that this time would be different. She wasn’t good for Will—had probably never been good for him.
She would work for him until she found a different job and a place to live—then she’d leave, so that he would be safe from her mistakes.
But she still had one more thing to say to him. “I’m sorry, too.”
“For what?”
“For that letter.”
He looked down and nodded.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life—obviously marrying Philippe was one of them—but the biggest one I’ve ever made was sending you that letter. I regretted it for years. I regret it still.”
Will was quiet for a long time, and he didn’t meet her gaze.
She waited, wondering what he would say, hoping he wouldn’t look at her with anger or resentment, but knowing he had every right.
“I’m sorry, too,” he said as he finally lifted his blue-eyed gaze. There was deep sadness there—a sadness she had caused. “I could have made you really happy, Jessa. It was all I ever wanted.” He shook his head. “I might have my faults, but I would have been a good husband.” He took a step back and said, “But I guess we’ll never know.”
And, with that, Will opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the porch.
He closed the door and, without looking back at her, disappeared around the side of the house.
Jessa slowly lowered herself onto the dining room chair and stared blindly out the window.
It didn’t matter if she was guarding her heart against her feelings for Will—it was obvious that he was putting his guard up, too. And he had a lot more reason to keep her at a distance.
She had regret.
But he had heartbreak.
Chapter Four
Will worked hard that day. Partly to keep his mind occupied, and partly to stay out of Jessa’s way. Their moment together inside had shaken him up more than he’d like to admit. And the fact that he’d been so vulnerable with her frustrated him. He’d told her something he’d thought a hundred times—but had never intended to say.
He could have made her happy.
It was true—though he knew he wasn’t perfect. He had loved Jessa Brooks unlike anyone he’d ever loved before or since. But there were too many wounds now—his and hers. His love had turned to anger, then bitterness and eventually into a dull ache that never seemed to go away.
Now, as he put away his tools in the detached garage and faced his cabin, he couldn’t put a finger on where his feelings were. Was he still angry? Bitter? The dull ache had seemed to disappear at her arrival—but he wasn’t exactly happy that she was back.
It was later than usual when he finished his work for the day. The sun had already started to set, way past suppertime. The lights had come on in his cabin and he knew Jessa had been in there for a couple of hours. She had finished cleaning cabin three earlier, while he had mowed part of the property. They had passed each other a few times, but other than a little nod of acknowledgment, they hadn’t talked since he’d told her what had been on his heart for years.
With a deep sigh, he walked toward the cabin. He needed a shower and something to eat before he’d head to the boathouse to try to sleep. More importantly, he needed to find a way to ease back into the easy camaraderie they’d been experiencing earlier that day.
Will opened the lobby door and then locked it behind him. The desk had been organized, the windows looked like they’d been washed, and there were no more cobwebs in the corners.
But it was the smell of something cooking inside the cabin that caught his attention.
He opened the door between the lobby and the living room and stepped into the house.
This room, too, had been cleaned and everything had been put into its proper place.
It not only smelled like something was cooking, but there was an aromatic scent in the air—like a candle or something sweet.
When was the last time his cabin smelled like a candle?
Jessa was working in the kitchen. He could hear pots and pans rattling and the sink turning on briefly.
He walked through the dining room and stopped when he saw her. Jessa’s back was to him, and she was cutting something on the cutting board.
His breath caught at the scene she made in his kitchen. She was completely at home—and for good reason. She’d grown up in that kitchen and nothing had really changed since she’d been here last.
Music was playing softly—an old tune that reminded him of high school. And for a second, with her back to him, unable to see her obvious pregnancy, he felt like they were back to where they’d once been. Before things had gone wrong—before the heartbreak and the wounds and the bitterness.
When he’d been so in love with Jessa that almost every thought involved her. All he wanted was to be near her. To see her. To hear her. To touch her.
She turned and caught him staring.
A tender and uncertain smile tilted her lips—no doubt she was wondering what he was thinking after what happened earlier.
He returned the gentle smile with one of his own. He had known it wouldn’t be easy living this close to her. He shouldn’t have been surprised.
“You didn’t need to wait to make supper for me,” he said.
“I remember my dad working from sunup to sundown during the summer months. I figured you wouldn’t be in until close to sunset, so I didn’t start cooking until about thirty minutes ago. If you need to shower, supper should be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
He took a deep inhale. “What is it?”
Her cheeks were rosy from the heat of cooking, and she looked like a different woman from the one who had come in out of the rain yesterday. “Meat loaf and mashed potatoes.”
His stomach rumbled at her words. “My favorite.”
“I remember.”
Meat loaf and mashed potatoes were the ultimate comfort food for him, and he had loved her recipe—even more than his mom’s, which had caused some good-natured bantering between Jessa and his mother when they were younger.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
He left her and went to his room to shower as quickly as he could. After throwing on some clean shorts and a T-shirt, he went back to the kitchen and found her opening the oven. The kitchen wasn’t very big, and with her pregnancy, it made things a little more awkward for her to maneuver.
“Here,” he said, gently taking the hot pads out of her hands, “let me.”
She stepped back and allowed Will to take the meat loaf out of the oven.
His mouth watered at the sight and smell.
Jessa started to giggle.
“What?” he asked.
“The look on your face.”
He set the meat loaf on a trivet on the counter. “What look?”
“Like you’ve just been reunited with your long-lost best friend.”
“I have been.” Will smiled—but her words felt truer than she could realize.
It wasn’t just the meat loaf—it was everything about being with Jessa again. He’d been afraid that all the bad memories would cloud out the good ones—but he was finding the opposite to be true. With her in the cabin, he’d started to remember the good things he had forgotten over the years.
One of them was her meat loaf.
She had already set the table and put the rest of the food there.
“I’ll take the meat loaf over,” he said.
Jessa followed with glasses of lemonade, and they took a seat at the table.
The table was only big enough for four people. Jessa sat where she’d always sat, and Will took his usual spot on the side closest to her.
“This looks amazing,” he said, admiring the steaming mound of mashed potatoes, the gravy, glazed carrots and buns. His stomach growled again, this time loud enough for her to hear.
He smiled, a little embarrassed.
“The highest compliment,” Jessa said with a chuckle.
Without even thinking, he reached for her hand, and she took his—so they could pray.
They’d done this a hundred times before—but it still seemed to surprise her as much as it did him.
“Some things never change,” she said, her cheeks still pink from the heat—and perhaps from blushing.
“Nor should they,” he said, squeezing her hand a little as he lowered his head and said a prayer of thanksgiving for the food.
As soon as he was done, they let go and began to dish up the meal.
Will couldn’t help but groan with pleasure as he took his first bite. “This is so good, Jessa.”
Her smile was still in place as she watched him. “It’s the least I could do. You’ve opened your house to me and given me a job. Let me know what else you want me to cook, and I’ll be sure to have it ready for you when you come in at night.”
She had done all the cooking for her dad since she was old enough to handle a knife and turn on the stove. He’d missed this part of her.
“I could get used to this,” he said. “My meals are usually a bowl of cereal or a sandwich.”
“It’s fun to be back home and have some ingredients that are harder to come by in Paris.”
“Do you think you’ll miss being there?” he asked.
She shook her head, her smile disappearing. “No. I haven’t been happy there for so long—I have no desire to ever go back.”
“Will you miss your friends?”
“I didn’t have many. I went to a small American church and worked at a little café. There were a few coworkers that I’ll miss, but Philippe and I did not have much of a social life—when he was home. He owed so much money to so many people, the few friends we had in the beginning were long gone.”
Will nodded, not sure how much he should ask about her past.
“What about you?” she asked. “Do you miss your life in Minneapolis? Friends—a girlfriend, maybe?”
He took another bite of the meat loaf and mashed potatoes, marveling at how light and fluffy they were. “I still stay in touch with a few people,” he said. “But I’ve reconnected with some high school friends who stayed in Timber Falls. Do you remember Piper Pierson and Max Evans?”
“Of course.”
“They got married a couple years ago and live in town.”
“I heard Max was playing professional football.”
“He was—but he came home and reconnected with Piper. There are others—some I’ve gotten to know through Max and Piper—and through church.”
“You don’t hang out with Beck Hanson?”
“No.” He shook his head, knowing she was teasing him.
“And...?” she asked.
“And, what?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
He was looking at his food, not sure how much she really wanted to know.
“I had a girlfriend.”
“Had?”
“It lasted a couple of years, but...” He let the words trail off.
“Did you break it off or did she?” Jessa asked quietly.
He wanted to be honest with her—even if it hurt and was uncomfortable. Jessa was going to be with him for a little while and if he couldn’t be honest, they couldn’t make this work.
“She broke up with me, but I didn’t give her much choice.”
Jessa frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” He took another bite of his food, forcing himself to keep his mouth closed. He’d already told Jessa more than he intended—things he wished he could take back. He wasn’t about to say one more thing he’d regret.
Stephanie had broken up with him because his heart was still aching for a girl who had left him ten years ago.
The same girl who was staring at him from her seat at his table.
* * *
Jessa knew Will well enough to sense when to stop pushing him for answers. She had learned what she’d set out to know. He’d had a girlfriend. But they weren’t together anymore.
“The cabin looks great,” he said, looking around the room—changing the subject. “I saw you cleaned the lobby. I’ve been meaning to get to it. Thanks.”
“I don’t mind. It feels good setting things in place again. I kind of feel like I’m trying to do the same thing with myself—but it’s not quite so easy to know where I belong.”
He nodded. “I appreciate that you cleaned cabin three—it really freed up my time today to get some little repairs done around here.”
“I’m happy I can be helpful—the last thing I want to be is a burden.”
“You’re more helpful than you realize. Coming inside, with supper ready—it’s—” He paused. “It’s refreshing, Jessa. Thank you.”
She smiled—feeling like she had purpose again. What was better than being safe, having a comfortable home and contributing to something good?
Her eighteen-year-old self would have laughed at the thought. Her twenty-eight-year-old self, with years of being unsafe, uncertain and living a pointless existence, felt much different.
They talked about the various projects they’d worked on as they finished supper, and then Will offered to do the dishes, since she cooked. She wouldn’t hear of it, so they cleaned up the kitchen together, laughing about the old garbage disposal in the sink, which hadn’t worked since she was a kid—and still didn’t work.
“It’s on my to-do list,” Will promised, though it made Jessa feel at home in a strange kind of way.
The stars were out by the time supper was cleaned up and put away, but Jessa wasn’t ready for bed. It had been years since she’d been outside, at night, just to look at the stars.
“I think I’m going to head out to the dock to stargaze,” she said as she reached for the cardigan she had hung on the back of a chair earlier when the kitchen had gotten too warm. “Want to join me?”
He opened his mouth, as if he was going to say yes—and then he paused, and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. They should probably stay away from each other as much as possible.
“You don’t have to,” she said quickly. “I just thought—”
