Driftwood Lane (Nantucket #4)(41)

“Well, he’ll have to do, then.” He missed the clue completely.

She rubbed her temple. Her Jake-headache was morphing into a Stephen-headache. “I can’t hand the children over to some incompetent, irresponsible uncle, Stephen. They’re my siblings.” She lowered her voice in case one of the children was able to hear. “And he might not want them.”

“I know how stressful this is for you, but have faith. God’ll work this out.”

“Faith without works is dead, Stephen.”

“Meridith . . .” The tension in his voice was like a tight wire being snapped. Ping.

“I’m not saying anything right now. Just that we need to keep our minds open and see how things go.”

“See how things go . . . ? Meridith, I see you might feel a sense of responsibility for them, really, I do. But children are a huge commitment.”

It was late. He was tired. She shouldn’t have brought it up tonight when he was so swamped leading up to Tax Day.

“It’s late, honey. Let’s revisit this later. Maybe we won’t even need to. Uncle Jay could show up at the door tomorrow and prove me wrong.” Meridith cringed. Why was she backing down? She knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“You’re right. I’m sorry if I seem on edge.”

“Perfectly understandable. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Night, Meridith.”

“Night.” Meridith closed the phone, turned off the light, and pulled the covers over her head.





Twenty-three

As Jake entered Meridith’s room, the fresh smell of citrus assaulted him. The scent of soap or shampoo or lotion or whatever it was that made Meridith smell so good. It transported him to the moment he’d had her in his arms. Okay, so it was only because she’d stumbled. A man could pretend, couldn’t he?

Pretend? What was he thinking? Get a grip, Walker. He was here to do a job, and not just the renovations.

He’d been living in the house now for three days and had been waiting to install the cold air return in Meridith’s room. Waiting for her to leave the house, and finally, five minutes ago, the opportunity presented itself.

But as soon as he stepped into her room and took one whiff, he wondered if he could do it. Rifle through her things? Her personal belongings? Open drawers, rummage through her closet? Not his style.

A gaping hole opened in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn’t hunger. He’d come to respect Meridith, if not see eye to eye with her.

But this was the only reason he was here. He had to think of the kids. If Meridith was bipolar, he needed to know. And if she was selling Summer Place, he needed to know that too. If she planned to uproot the kids, take them away from their friends, their memories, their home . . . that was unacceptable.

Jake scanned the dresser drawers, shut up tight as a beach house during a hurricane. She couldn’t have left one drawer open? Just one?

He set down the saw and peeked out the window one more time to confirm she hadn’t returned. The driveway was empty, except for his truck.

Half disappointed, he walked across the small space and entered the bathroom. He didn’t have to like it. He just had to do it.

One little peek in the medicine cabinet was all he needed in here. The door sqeaked as he swung it open. He scanned the rows of shelves. Lotion, floss, hair spray, deodorant, toothpaste, eye drops, mouthwash. Not one single amber bottle of medication. Maybe she was as normal as she seemed. Or maybe she kept her medication in her purse. He was so not going there, even if he had the opportunity.

Jake exited the bathroom and opened the bedroom closet. If he thought the room smelled like her, it was nothing compared to the scent that wafted toward him when he swung open the closet door.

Her belongings were sparse. One rod hung across the small space, maybe twenty occupied hangers. She probably had the rest in drawers. On the floor a suitcase, a few boxes, shoes. Lots of shoes.

He was tempted to shut the door and move on. But it would be stupid and careless to waste the opportunity. He squatted on the floor and rooted through the boxes, trying not to disturb things. A plastic bag held a bunch of stickers, scissors, ribbons, and stuff.

He lifted the lid on the last box, a white glossy thing. There was an album on top. He lifted it to find two more, and under those, photos. Rubber-banded in three separate piles. He lifted them out. Photos of the kids. Family pictures, some that Jake had seen. Meridith must’ve found them when she’d cleaned out Eva and T. J.’s room. What was she doing with them?

Were there photos of him? He fanned through the stacks. Near the end, he found one of him on his Harley with Ben. Thank God he was wearing his helmet. He studied the photo. No, nothing to give him away here. Where were all the pictures of him? Then he remembered the school poster Max had done last fall. He’d had to make a photo collage of his hero. Jake smiled, picturing the poster that now hung on his bedroom wall. The kid had pilfered every last photo of him. Thank God.

He picked up a photo of Eva and remembered the way her eyes lit under the afternoon sun, the way her smile brightened every room she entered. He felt a catch in his breath at the feeling of emptiness and loss that settled over him.

Enough of this. He had to focus on the task at hand. He swallowed hard and placed the photos back where he’d found them. As he replaced the albums, curiosity got the best of him. He lifted the cover of the first one. Centered on the page and surrounded by decorations was a hospital photo of Noelle in Eva’s arms with T. J. standing over her shoulder. A little pink bundle. Eva looked so proud. Seeing his sister so alive and happy made his throat ache all over again. He turned the first page and then another. The album stopped when Noelle was six or seven.