Unraveled (4 page)

Blake propped his arms on the counter and scanned the spreadsheet, probing for gaps in their budget. Inquiries for rafting and kayaking excursions flooded their inbox. The new website received dozens of daily hits, and the first three weeks of the season were booked solid. His heart swelled with gratitude.
Thank you, Lord.
They’d anticipated some success, given the surge in cruise ship traffic. But this—he shook his head, double-checking the numbers again—went way beyond even their most optimistic projections.

His brother Jeremy spun around in the desk chair and crumpled a piece of paper. “We could just chuck the whole thing and buy a time share in Maui.”

“Uh-huh.” Okay, insurance was on track but payroll—a wad of crumpled paper popped him in the temple, and he flinched. “Hey.”

“Seriously, dude. What’s with you today? You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

Blake sighed and tried once again to discard the memory of those long auburn curls and a yellow sundress. “Sure, I heard you. You booked six reservations this morning.”

“I said that, like, ten minutes ago. Dang, what happened at the airport?”

“Nothing.”
The incredibly hot Lauren Carter wearing some dude’s ring, that’s what.

He’d blinked twice at baggage claim to realize she wasn’t a dream. He grabbed her elbow and she stared up at him with those bottomless green eyes. It was her, alright. Suddenly he was twenty years old again, heart-broken as he watched her Honda Prelude disappear around the bend.

The hurt awakened, like a bear from hibernation. He’d spent almost a decade trying to get over her. He was beginning to wonder if he might need a decade more.

A bell chimed and Tisha, their first official employee, wedged the front door open with her hiking boot then scooted in carrying a loaded cardboard coffee carrier.

“Compliments of your baby sister next door,” she smiled, sliding the trio of grande mochas onto the counter. Megan had scored a summer job as a barista in the new coffee shop. Although she begged her brothers for a chance to paddle a kayak, their parents feared for her safety and insisted she was too young.

Jeremy took a long sip then set his cup on the desk. “Man, she makes a good mocha.”

Blake wrapped his fingers around the warm paper cup and tipped it to his lips. Extra strong java with a jolt of chocolate, just the way he liked it. “Not bad for a girl who’d rather be paddling,” he agreed.

“Speaking of paddling, when’s my next run, boss?” Tisha leaned over Blake’s shoulder and the ends of her long ponytail tickled his forearm.

Blake stiffened and clenched his jaw as she tapped her fingernails on the desk,
rat a tat rat a tat. Her breath was hot on his cheek. He tried not to squirm.
Ever heard of personal space?

“Looks like one short run at 4:30, family of five wants to kayak around the bay for an hour,” Blake kept his eyes on the screen, staring at the reservation and praying Tisha made a quick exit.

“Great! I’m all over it. Catch you later.” She grabbed her coffee and sailed back out the door.

Jeremy chuckled. “That isn’t the only thing she’s all over.”

Blake narrowed his eyes at his younger brother. “What are you talking about?”

“Dude. She would be all over you in a second if you didn’t sit there like an iceberg. What’s your problem, man?”

Blake grinned. “No problem here.” Jeremy loved to aggravate him. And he was good at it. But not this time. He shook his head.
You’re way off on that whole Tisha thing, little brother.
He grabbed a thick stack of brochures off the counter and reached for his keys. “I’ve got to deliver these to the ferry terminal, I guess their rack is empty already. I’ll be back in a few.”

Jeremy dismissed him with a wave. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

Five minutes later, Blake pulled his truck into the ferry terminal and cut the engine. He had just enough time to drop off these brochures and head over to the warehouse to make sure Tisha had everything she needed for that four-thirty run.

A new Lexus SUV pulled into the space next to his. Blake’s heartbeat stuttered when he recognized the school superintendent, Alan Maxwell, in the driver’s seat. Although Blake checked the school district’s website faithfully since he moved back, no one had posted an opening for a head basketball coach at the high school.
Well, there’s no time like the present. Couldn’t hurt to ask, right?

He scooped the brochures off the passenger seat and jumped out of the truck. Slamming the door, he mustered his most professional smile and waved to his new boss.

“Hi, Mr. Maxwell. How’s it going?”

In his plaid flannel button down and spotless Levi’s, Mr. Maxwell looked like he’d just stepped off the pages of LL Bean. “Afternoon, Blake. How’s business?”

“Can’t complain. We’ve got more business than we can handle most days.”

Mr. Maxwell hitched his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked back on his heels. “Good, good. Keeps you out of trouble, I guess.”

Blake’s stomach clenched. “Trouble, sir?”

“C’mon, son.” He clapped Blake on the shoulder. “No need to pretend with me. I’m well aware of your history. Just glad to hear you’re keeping your nose clean.”

Blake chewed on his lower lip, his blood pounding in his ears like a freight train. “I can assure you, sir, those days are behind me.”

“Of course they are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to buy—”

“Wait.” Blake put up a hand to stop him. “I’d really like to be considered for Mr. Hoffman’s position, when and if he decides to retire. I know—”

“Whoa. Slow down, there. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled you’re teaching history this fall. But coaching?” A thin smile stretched across his weathered features and he shook his head slowly, as if that would make the words more palatable. “You’re gonna have to earn my trust, son.” With one final pat on the shoulder, he turned away.

Blake watched him go, seething inside.
What was that all about?

Lord, why did you call me back here? You know I want nothing more than to coach again. If you’ve forgotten the mistakes I’ve made, why can’t he?

Lauren sat up, startled awake by the opening notes of Katy Perry’s “Firework.” Groggy and disoriented, she glanced around the loft. That’s right.
Home.
Sliding off the window seat, she reached for her bag and dug past her wallet, baggage claim stubs, and an Altoids tin.

“C’mon, where is it?” The blue glow of her cell phone appeared and she studied the screen. Holden. Her heart stuttered in anticipation. She needed to hear his voice. Surely he’d offer to catch the next plane out.

She sighed, swiping her finger across the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey, you.” His voice was husky, confident. She waited for the rush of warmth that usually accompanied that timbre. Huh. Nothing.

“Hi.” She sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. Things are kind of crazy here.”

She hesitated. “What kind of crazy?”

“They’re opening an investigation. One of the surgery techs says I left a sponge in this guy’s leg.”

Lauren gasped. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. Listen, there’s—”

Here it comes,
she thought, rubbing the back of her neck.
He’s bailing.

“Look. About the other night, it wasn’t what you thought. I don’t know what Monique has told you, but I’ve only done what any other doctor in my situation would do. Does that make sense?”

There it was. The subtle defensiveness. It had been cropping up more and more lately. Lauren swallowed hard and gathered her courage.

“And the golf pro at the country club? What’s the story there?” She’d seen medications change hands on more than one occasion during their golf outings. This was new territory for her, challenging him. The steely silence that greeted her was a strong indication that he was as surprised as she was.

“Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Bile rose in the back of her throat. “This was your idea, Holden. You said we couldn’t set a date until you met my family. You’re supposed to be here. With me. Now.” She hated how her voice had risen dangerously close to a whine.

Muffled voices in the background distracted him. A pregnant pause ensued. Was he with someone? Her scalp tingled. “Holden? Who are you talking to?”

“Sorry. Something’s come up. I gotta go.”

“If you’re really sorry you’ll catch the next flight.”

“Seriously?” He muttered an obscenity under his breath. “You have no idea what I’m up against here, Lauren. I’ll call you later.”

Then the line went dead.

Lauren pulled the phone away from her ear. That’s it? Tossing her phone into her bag, she flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. How did they get here? Where was the charming, suave Holden she’d fallen in love with?

“S-s-sister? You up there?” a male voice hollered.

Lauren flinched, her heart pounding in her chest.
Seth.

“Lo-lo!”

Lauren smiled as Seth barked the nickname she hadn’t heard in years. She rolled off the bed and opened the door. At the bottom of the steep stairs, she found her youngest brother. His beard was grizzly and untamed, blond hair cascaded to his shoulders in matted curls.

Squealing with delight, she flew down the stairs and jumped in his waiting arms. He swung her around, laughing as her feet left the ground. He was six years younger but he outweighed her by a hundred pounds. She smelled the musky, sour odor of a man who missed quite a few showers.

“W-w-what are you doing here?”

She pouted. “Can’t a girl come home and check up on her baby brother?”

“S-s-sure you can,” he smiled. As the oldest, she tried to mother her brothers from the minute they came home from the hospital. Matthew resisted but Seth basked in the glow of her attention. She taught him to sing when his words froze on his tongue and knocked the boys on the playground flat on their backs when they taunted him. Nobody messed with her baby brother.

“Come sit down and tell me all about your latest adventures.” She tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow and they settled on the couch closest to the fireplace.

“C-c-can’t tell you. Top secret.” Seth smirked and leaned out of reach as she swung a fist in the direction of his bulging bicep.

“You smell like you’ve hiked for days,” she fanned her fingers in front of her nose. “Where have you been?”

“Me and Toby staked a k-k-iller claim. This c-c-could be the m-m-mother lode.” He always stuttered more when he was excited.

“That’s incredible. How long will it take to excavate?”

He stroked his beard and stared at the ceiling. “About—”

A thump followed by a muffled cry interrupted their conversation. Seth’s eyes, wide with fear, met hers.
Granny.

Lauren and Seth tripped over each other racing down the hallway to Lauren’s old bedroom. Mom knelt on the floor, stroking her mother’s forehead. Granny lay crumpled beside the bed, legs askance and her slip peeking out the hem of her skirt.

“Mom?” Lauren touched her shoulder. “What happened?”

Granny moaned a low, guttural sound that turned Lauren’s stomach.

“I don’t know.” Mom’s eyes darted to Seth and back to Lauren. “I was making the bed in the next room and I heard this awful noise. She must have bumped her head as she fell.”

“Sh-sh-should I call 9-1-1?” Seth asked.

“Did you check her pulse?” Lauren dropped to her knees and reached for Granny’s wrist.
Airway, breathing, circulation.
A very faint pulse fluttered under her fingertips. “I’ve got a pulse. Granny, can you hear me?”

Granny moaned again but her eyes didn’t open and her complexion remained ashen.

“Please, dear Lord.” Mom whispered. “Let her be okay.”

Lauren swallowed hard and surveyed the rest of Granny’s body. Her ankle was twisted at an abnormal angle. She cringed and straightened Granny’s skirt with trembling fingers. “I’m worried about her leg. I think we should call an ambulance rather than move her ourselves.”

“Got it.” Seth reached for his cell phone and keyed the numbers in.

“Does she have a history of falling? Ever had a seizure?”

Mom dabbed at a cut on Granny’s forehead with a tissue. “She’s fallen before, but I’ve never seen a seizure. Why?”

“The EMT’s are going to ask. It might help to have a list of her meds, too.”

“It’s all in her chart at the hospital,” Mom said. “I’m going to ride with her in the ambulance, anyway.”

Lauren frowned. “Wait. What about the guests?”

Mom offered a weak smile. “That’s where you come in.”

Seth ended the call and stuffed his phone in his pocket. “A-A-ambulance c-c-coming.”

“Mom, I haven’t helped out since I was in high school.”

“Not much has changed, honey. You can probably run this place with your eyes closed.”

A wave of panic welled up inside. Lauren sagged back on her heels. “I don’t know—”

“It will all come back to you, I promise. You—”

“Mom?” A man’s voice called out from the living room. “Anybody home?”

Seth turned and poked his head into the hallway. “W-w-we’re in here.”