Lakeside Romance

Sunshine spilled through the narrow window, streaking across the pale green walls and glossy tiled floors.

Melissa Kendall, the pastor’s wife and her summer outreach program partner, lay in the bed. She was dressed in a hospital gown with an IV pumping fluid into her arm, and her dark hair fanned across the pillow, emphasizing the chalky whiteness of her skin.

Nate, Melissa’s husband and Sarah’s pastor, slumped in an uncomfortable position in a chair next to the bed, eyes closed, his hand resting on his wife’s.

Eyes drowsy, Melissa managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

“When you suggested we get together this morning to talk about the program, you failed to mention the new meeting spot.” Sarah smiled to show she was joking.

“Yeah, well, you know me—Queen of the Last-Minute Changes. Pretty flowers.”

“I figured they’d cheer you up.” Sarah set the flowers on the windowsill and moved over to the bed. She squeezed Melissa’s fingers. “When you didn’t show up at the community center or answer your phone, I called Nate’s secretary, Cindy, to see if you were at the church. She told me where to find you.”

Pulling her hand out of her husband’s grasp, Melissa tried to sit up but winced and dropped back on the pillow. Lines tightened around her mouth. “I didn’t feel so hot in church yesterday, and then after lunch, I started having some nausea and stomach pains. Last night I doubled over, so Nate called the ambulance. Once we arrived, I was rushed into surgery for an emergency appendectomy.”

“I’m so sorry. How are you feeling now?”

“Tired, and a little sore. I woke up in pain a little while ago, and the nurse gave me something, but it hasn’t kicked in yet.” Melissa’s eyelids fluttered as if she were fighting sleep to talk.

“Who’s staying with Little Nate?”

“He’s with Mom and Dad.”

Sarah smoothed Melissa’s hair away from her forehead. “Is there anything I can do?”

Tears welled up in Melissa’s eyes and seeped over the curve of her face.

“Hey, it will be okay.” Sarah opened the small box of hospital tissues and handed one to Melissa.

Melissa wiped her eyes and shook her head. “All those months and months of planning, and now our summer program is coming to a halt.”

Sarah’s heart picked up speed. “What do you mean ‘coming to a halt’? Did the program lose funding?”

“Nothing like that.” Melissa shook her head, then offered a wobbly smile. “I’m pregnant, Sarah.”

“Oh, that’s great! Right?”

“Yes, of course.” She dropped her gaze to her hands and tore the tissue into small pieces. “But with the emergency surgery, my doctor wants me on bed rest for the next few weeks to ensure I don’t lose this baby.”

Nate stirred and looked around the room a little confused. Then he stretched, stifled a yawn and nodded to Sarah. “Hey, Sarah.”

“Hi. I hear congratulations are in order.”

He shot a worried glance at Melissa but couldn’t hide the smile creeping across his face. “Yeah, thanks.”

He leaned over the bed and brushed a kiss across his wife’s temple. “How are you feeling, babe?”

“Sore. Tired.”

“Close your eyes and rest.” Nate stood and stretched again. “I need to find some coffee. Sarah, care to join me?”

Sarah cast a quick look at her friend only to find her struggling to stay awake. “Sure.” She leaned over the bed and gave Melissa a gentle hug. “Don’t worry. Just focus on getting better.”

Nate grazed his fingers across Melissa’s cheek. “We’re going down to the cafeteria. We’ll be back shortly. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Her voice slurred as she tried but failed to keep her eyes open.

Sarah headed for the door and waited in the hall for Nate. He joined her, dragging his hands through his hair. Dark circles smudged his eyes. Morning stubble darkened his jaw. His wrinkled polo shirt and shorts showed he hadn’t left his wife’s side.

“Long night, huh?”

“Yeah, you could say that. The pain meds have kicked in, so Mel’s going to be out for a while. Let’s hit the cafeteria for some coffee and food.”

“As long as you don’t mind being away from her.”

“I do, but I need to check on Little Nate and call Cindy to cancel my appointments for the rest of the day.”

“Nate, is there anything I can do?”

He stabbed the ground floor button on the elevator panel, then shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts before bracing a shoulder against the wall. “Yes, but I need coffee so I can speak coherently.”

As the elevator made the trip toward the main level, Sarah wondered if she should be concerned about Melissa’s anxiety over the demise of the program. Or was she stressing because she couldn’t help? Hopefully Nate could shed some light on the situation. If they were truly thinking about canceling, maybe she could get him to reconsider. Not just for the community’s sake and for all the kids signed up, but for her sake, as well. She needed the income to hold her over for the summer. Plus, the next three months would help her figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

The scents of breakfast beckoned them toward the hot-foods station, where Nate heaped a plate with eggs and several slices of bacon. Sarah filled two foam cups with coffee. Nate paid for the food, and then they found an empty table toward the back of the hospital cafeteria.

After praying over his food, he shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. A few more bites and a couple slurps of coffee later, he wiped his mouth and sat back in his chair. “Now I feel a little more human.”

“You’ve had a rough night.” She stirred creamer into her coffee.

He pushed the rest of the eggs around the paper plate. “Yeah, she had me pretty scared for a while.”

Sarah reached for his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “She’ll be fine, Nate.”

“I know.” Pushing his tray aside, he leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “So you’re getting settled in your new place?”

“Yes, it’s been an...interesting weekend. Met my landlord.” No need to tell Nate about the popcorn...she wanted to convince him to keep the program.

“Alec Seaver’s a good man. He’s been through a lot. Don’t let his gruff get to you.”

Remembering her landlord’s stony glare, she stored that bit of info away. She wanted to ask more but knew Nate wouldn’t spill what wasn’t his to share. One more thing she respected about her pastor.

“Listen, Sarah, I need to talk to you about the summer outreach program.”

Her hands tightened around her cup. “Sure, what’s up?”

“This is such a great opportunity for our church to reach beyond its doors and connect with the kids who don’t attend regularly or at all. You and Mel have done a ton of planning. It’s scheduled to begin next week with Mel teaching the bulk of the cooking portion of the program, right?”

Sarah picked up the plastic stirrer and twisted it into a knot. “Yes, very few people have Melissa’s cooking talents.”

“I wasn’t a fool to marry a woman with mad culinary skills.” A smile tugged at his mouth as he patted his trim stomach.

Sarah laughed. “Very smart move on your part, my friend.”

Nate’s smile disappeared. “I talked with the doctor after Melissa’s surgery. This pregnancy surprised all of us. We’re thrilled, but we’re also concerned because she’s already had two miscarriages since Little Nate was born. The doctor wants to keep her activities limited for the next couple of months to ensure she’ll be out of danger. Mel’s parents and her brother and sister-in-law have already offered to do what’s necessary to help us.”

“It’s always great to have a supportive family.” Sarah’s heart panged a little. Other than Caleb and Zoe, she didn’t really know what that entailed. “What can I do to help?”

“I need to know if you can handle the program by yourself. We still have church members signed up each week as volunteers to lend a hand, so you won’t be all by yourself. Plus, I’ll be in every morning to do the daily devotional like we talked about. Melissa’s stressing out about losing this outreach opportunity. If she knows you’re willing to continue the program without her, then she’ll relax.”

“Yes, Nate, of course. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”

“Great. Because backing out is not really an option.” Nate drained his cup and stood, grabbing the tray. “I appreciate everything you’re doing, Sarah. Like I said when I hired you—if this program is a success, the board wants to make it a full-time opportunity. That way we can help these kids way past summer, even if it’s only for a couple of hours after school. They need to know they matter.”

Sarah followed Nate out of the cafeteria, chewing on his final words. She’d figure out a way to get through the cooking portion of the program, even if it meant reading dozens of cookbooks, viewing YouTube videos or binge-watching the Food Network. It couldn’t be that hard. After all, a bunch of teenagers wouldn’t be expecting Rachael Ray, right?

She couldn’t let her church family down...or the kids involved in the program.

* * *

If only life’s problems could be solved with a pot of soup.

Alec lifted the lid and stirred the heavy cream into the zuppa Toscana bubbling on the stove. He tossed in two large handfuls of chopped kale, gave it another stir and then topped the pot with the lid to let everything simmer for about ten more minutes. The aroma of cooked sausage and fried bacon mingled with the chopped onion and pressed garlic.

Ella Fitzgerald crooned from his docked iPhone on the counter. He hummed along as she sang about someone watching over her.

The timer on his bread maker beeped. After turning the machine off, Alec reached for a pot holder, pulled the bread pan out and turned over the steaming loaf of Italian herb bread onto the metal cooling rack.

The doorbell pealed, sending his shoulders to his ears. He made another mental note to install a different, less intrusive sounding one.

Swallowing a sigh, he dropped the pot holder on the counter and wiped his hands on a dish towel before heading to the door.

He’d left the front door open, allowing the afternoon breeze to sweep in through the screen door. He saw a woman’s silhouette on the porch. Too tall to be his sister. Besides, Chloe would knock once and come in without waiting for an invitation. Or come in through the back door.

The woman turned, and his steps slowed. His new tenant stood on his welcome mat, her arms wrapped around a stack of books, and a wide smile emphasized those incredible cheekbones.

“Can I help you?”

She shifted the books and pulled a hand free to give him a little wave. “Hi, Alec...right?”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything more.

“Yeah, well, I checked my mail and found a letter addressed to you in my box.” She pulled an envelope off the stack of books and thrust it at him.

He took it, caught the return address—Shelby Lake County Juvenile Detention Center—and his gut tightened. He shoved it in his back pocket, planning to add it to the rest later. “Thanks for dropping it off.”

“You’re welcome.” She turned away from the door and started across the porch. Before he could close the door, she turned back to him. “You’re probably going to think I’m a nut or something, but I could smell something amazing coming from your place, so I wondered who did your cooking.” Her words tumbled over her lips so quickly and without a breath in between that Alec was thankful she didn’t just pass out from the effort.

“My cooking?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, something smells so great.”

Was she wrangling for an invitation?

“I do my own cooking.”

“You made...” She paused, lifted her nose and inhaled deeply a moment before letting out the pent up breath slowly. A smile spread easily across her face as if it was something she did often. “It smells fantastic. What is it, by the way?”

“Zuppa Toscana and Italian herb bread.”

“Sounds like something you’d get in a restaurant. My friend Melissa is an amazing cook, too.” Sarah shifted the load in her arms again. Alec caught a glimpse of one of the titles and recognized it as a cookbook he had sitting on the shelf next to his fridge. “Would you like a job?”

He scowled “A job? I have a job.”

“Right.” She waved a hand as if dismissing her offer. “I’m sure you do. This isn’t even a regular job. Especially since you wouldn’t get paid.”

“That sounds really appealing.” He folded his arms over his chest and pressed a shoulder against the doorjamb.

She laughed, a sound that stirred a dormant feeling inside him. “Actually it’s a temporary volunteer position. I’m overseeing a new summer outreach program through the youth ministry at my church. We’re helping teenagers learn basic life skills such as cooking, cleaning, budgeting, etcetera. My program partner, who is this amazing chef, had emergency surgery last night, so now she won’t be able to do the cooking portion of the program. And, well, as you saw last night with the popcorn fiasco, I’m not exactly Martha Stewart.”

Did this woman ever breathe between sentences? Another time, he might’ve found her rambling endearing...

He straightened and reached for the stack of books. He turned them over to read the titles on the spines, then curled them into the crook of his arm. “Did Billy put you up to this?”

“Who?” She shot him a questioning look.

“Never mind. So let me see if I’m understanding you correctly... You’re looking for someone to help you teach teenagers to cook?”

She rubbed her hands over the red creases the stack of books had left on her arms. “Yes, actually. Are you interested?”

Placing his free hand in the front pocket of his jeans, he laughed and shook his head. “No. Not in a million years, sister.”

“But—” Her brows knitted together.

“I’m sorry.” He handed the cookbooks back to her. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to take some food to my uncle.”

Even though Gran would lecture him on his rudeness, he closed the door and walked back to the kitchen, not waiting to see if his babbling neighbor continued to stand on his front porch.

The last thing in the world he wanted was to hang out with a bunch of teenagers. No, thank you. He wasn’t going down that road again.

He flicked the heat off under the sputtering soup, stirred it a final time and then ladled some into several glass bowls. After packing the single servings into a shallow box along with the bread, Alec carried the food out the back kitchen door and followed the sidewalk trailing behind his house to the garage.

He dropped the food off to Uncle Emmett at the Lakeside Suites and spent forty minutes listening to Emmett grumble about getting kicked out of his home. In an effort to placate him, Alec promised to stop by the house to get a particular book. Having moved into the assisted-living apartment last weekend, Uncle Emmett still insisted he needed certain things from his home, despite the family’s insistence that he downsize.

Alec unlocked the dead bolt and pushed open the front door of the yellow house with white trim and a wraparound porch. The scent of neglect and abandonment permeated the air. Or maybe that was Alec’s guilt eating at him. Maybe he should’ve tried harder to help Emmett stay in his home. But the decision was out of his hands and it wouldn’t have solved the problem—Emmett’s doctor said his uncle’s health required assisted living.

Despite the midafternoon sunshine, darkness shrouded the room. He pushed back the outdated drapes and hefted open the window, hearing the pulley weights thunk, and then stepped back to allow waves of fresh air to filter out the staleness. Sunlight straddled the stacks of magazines and towers of books while dust motes scattered across the heavy maple furniture that had been as much a part of this house as the occupants.

Uncle Emmett and Aunt Elsie had purchased this house over fifty years ago, but after Aunt Elsie’s death, Emmett couldn’t bring himself to make any changes, including canceling her subscriptions to her favorite painting magazines.

With their only child having been born with Down syndrome, Uncle Emmett needed someone to oversee his assets. In case anything happened to him, Emmett had signed the house over to Alec years ago. He’d done so with the promise that Alec would sell it and ensure the money went into Gideon’s special-needs trust so he could continue living at Jacob House, a local residential home for adult men who required special care.

Alec searched the shelves, found the book his uncle had requested, closed the windows and then let himself out of the house, locking the door behind him.

Half an hour later, he parked his car in his garage. With the engine still idling, he pressed his head against the headrest and sighed. A jazzy tune crooned from the satellite radio station, but the upbeat tempo did little to raise Alec’s mood.

An unsettling feeling knotted his stomach. After returning the requested books, he’d had another conversation—more like an argument—with Uncle Emmett about Alec’s desire to get the Dutch Colonial home listed quickly. Getting it on the market by the end of summer needed to be his highest priority, but he couldn’t even think about listing it until the place was cleaned out and repaired. The higher the selling price, the more money for Gideon.

He just didn’t see how he could find the time to get it done. He could talk with Gran and Chloe to see if they’d be able to pitch in, but Gran wouldn’t be able to do the heavy lifting and constant bending at her age. Plus, between teaching piano lessons, running church activities and spending time with her Tea Grannies—a group of older women at her church who made it their mission to play matchmaker to the singles in the community—he couldn’t ask her to help out. His sister had her hands full with her early-learning child care center, especially with her annual state inspection coming up. Maybe he’d have to consider hiring someone, but bringing in an outsider to rummage through his family’s things didn’t really sit well with him.

He’d find someone... He had no choice.

Climbing out of his car, he closed the door, silencing the trumpet sounds from the radio. He glanced at the yellow Beetle parked in the other stall.

Wait a minute...

What if he did agree to teach his neighbor to cook? Would she be willing to help him out in return? But asking her was crazy. He knew nothing about her.

But Gran and Chloe knew her. After learning about the fire-alarm episode, both reassured him Sarah wouldn’t be any trouble. They’d spent the next twenty minutes singing her praises.

He did know her brother, and Caleb was an upstanding guy, not to mention a Shelby Lake police officer.

Maybe asking wouldn’t be so bad. She could always say no.

He took the stairs to Sarah’s apartment two at a time and rapped his knuckles against the door.

Music blared. A crash sounded, then a muffled cry before the door was wrenched open.

His neighbor greeted him with something brown splattered across the front of her shirt.

“Bad time?”

She popped a hand on her hip and cocked her head. “You know, I don’t think there’s ever a good time when you put me in the kitchen. Come in.” Pulling the door open, she moved aside to let him in.

He stepped inside and slid out of the way so she could close the door. “I don’t want to keep you from...whatever it is you’re doing—”

She pushed hair off her face with the back of her wrist and glanced toward the kitchen. “Creating a disaster, apparently.”

“I stopped by with a proposal for you.”

She lowered her head, batted her eyes and fanned herself with her hand. “Why, Mr. Seaver, it’s a bit sudden, don’t you think? We’ve only known each other a few days.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. What a scatterbrain. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all, but he was running out of options. He braced his hand against the door frame. “I need help getting a house ready to list on the market by the end of summer. You need someone to teach you how to cook. What do you say about helping each other out?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“More than you know.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“I don’t have a lot of options right now.” Alec dragged a hand through his hair. “Someone is relying on me. I won’t go back on my word.”

“That makes two of us.” Sarah crossed her arms and tapped her index finger against her chin. Then she flashed a bright smile. “I’ll do it. I’ll help with your house, and you can help my teenagers learn to cook.”

He lifted a hand. “What? No. I said I’d teach you to cook. It’s up to you to pass your skills on to them.”

She shrugged. “But I’d need you in the kitchen with me so I don’t screw things up or set off more smoke alarms. Two hours each afternoon, and I’ll give you the same amount of time each evening with your house.”

More than anything, he wanted to turn around and head back down the stairs, taking his absurd idea with him, but he couldn’t handle having the same argument every time he visited his uncle. “Fine. I’ll give you a few basic lessons, and I’ll be on hand to help you out.”

“Really? Just so there’s no misunderstanding—you’re sure you want to do this?”

Want to? Of course not. But he needed help. “Yes, I’ll be a regular ole Henry Higgins.”

“Who?” She frowned.

“Henry Higgins. You know—the professor from My Fair Lady who taught Eliza Doolittle how to speak properly.”

Sarah wrinkled her nose. “I’m not crazy about old movies.”

“Not old. Classic. Apparently you have more to learn than cooking.”

“When would you like to start?”

He glanced at the stain spreading across her shirt. “The sooner, the better by the look of things.”

Sarah stuck out her hand. “I accept your proposal, Professor Higgins.”

Alec shook her hand.

What had he just agreed to?

Chapter Three

If Sarah didn’t need Alec’s help so badly, she’d turn around and walk out the door. When he’d suggested cooking lessons in exchange for preparing his uncle’s house to be placed on the market, he hadn’t mentioned she’d be walking into an episode of Hoarders. Maybe for good reason.

And now he stood behind her, blocking her escape.

She set her bucket of cleaning supplies on the floor by the door and moved deeper into the abyss, wrinkling her nose. The air settled around her with the odor of mildew and vapor rub. The wooden floor creaked beneath her flip-flops as she stepped carefully onto a bare spot on the worn area carpet. She balanced herself on one foot while she searched for another space to step.

The image of jumping from rock to rock to cross the stream behind her childhood home slid out from a closeted corner in her mind. Finding there was no free floor space to move to, Sarah put her other foot down almost on top of her first, stayed put and turned in a slow circle to take in every angle of the cluttered living room.

Her gaze roamed over the rows of books spilling from the natural oak cases built around the door frame. Mismatched framed watercolor paintings in various sizes hung on the faded floral-papered wall behind a couch buried under throw pillows and knitted afghans. Towering stacks of magazines and newspapers lined a narrow path that led into another room. Heavy drapes concealed the sunshine that peaked through the gap and begged to light up the room.

She tried to keep her jaw from gaping like a trout, but she doubted she’d succeeded. A shudder shimmied down her spine.

She wasn’t trying to judge, but she just couldn’t wrap her head around the chaos. Sure, she needed things organized and put in their places. Otherwise, her brain simply couldn’t function. And obviously not everyone had to be like her, but still... Seriously, how did people live like this?

She dragged her fingers through her hair, then waved a hand over the room and looked at Alec. “I’m not gonna lie—I expected some light housekeeping. Maybe some basic organization. Or even some staging. But this...”