First Love Again

Maureen’s jaw dropped. “Jason the Jerk you defend when he was a bully all through school but Pam the Perfect you throw to the wolves?”

“Jason wasn’t so much a bully as a kid who didn’t know his own strength. He didn’t, and probably still doesn’t, have a mean-hearted bone is his whole body.”

Jaime checked off the last two names on the list for the reunion. Nearly all the invitations had been accepted. Not bad considering she and Maureen had only taken over Project Reunion and had sent out the invitations two weeks before. One name without a checkmark stood out. Emmett Deal. Who’d disappeared on prom night, never to be heard from again.

Except in her dreams. Well, usually only when she stayed up too late watching cable and saw him on one of those home renovations shows. On those nights his muscular, tanned form seemed to sink straight into her brain like a weighted hook sank to the bottom of Lake Erie. Her stomach would do that flip-flopping thing it kept doing when she looked at the broad shoulders of the stranger in the corner. So she was a sucker for a pair of broad shoulders, was that so bad?

She was definitely not obsessed with how he looked, shirtless and buff, with a tool belt around his lean hips. Nope, she hardly ever pictured that at all, and she definitely had not done a little comparison shopping between the hunk on cable TV and the hairy guys Luther had brought with him to the island.

“Anna mentioned the diner would host the meet and greet on Friday night, if we wanted.” Jaime closed the folder and slid it into her satchel.

“Love that idea, and we could stagger the times so the place isn’t overrun all at once. Everyone wants to eat here when they come back home, anyway.”

Maureen checked her watch and slid out of the booth. “I’ve got that volunteer thing at the elementary this afternoon. God, I can’t wait for summer break. Want to hash out the party details tomorrow over breakfast? The kiddo will be knee-deep in kindergarten fun by eight-thirty, so I could be here by eight-forty-five.” Maureen emptied the pitcher into a travel cup while they made plans and then hustled out the door. Jaime signaled Anna for a refill and watched out the window as the first ferry pulled into the dock.

She looked around. If the school reno went well, there would be few quiet mornings like this at the diner. Still, it would be good for the locals if more tourists hit their shore instead of the other islands.

“Now that Thomas has canceled the contract, we should cancel the reno, gut it and tear it down.” Mason Brown’s voice was quiet in the restaurant, but she had no trouble overhearing. Not that her father ever minded people overhearing him, especially when he was talking about something controversial. “The roof’s falling in. Someone is going to be seriously hurt.”

What was he talking about? She’d talked to Luther not an hour before. Cold, clammy dread shivered up Jaime’s spine as she twisted around in her seat.

Mason wore his usual uniform of navy pants and light blue, short-sleeved dress shirt with the Gulliver’s Island Police Department logo over the breast. “Department” was a bit of a stretch, she knew. Other than Mason there were two full-time employees and one was the island dispatcher. It was all the small community needed, except during the summer months.

He continued. “That old school has got to go, there’s no ifs, ands, or buts.”

Jaime’s jaw dropped. When the Gulliver family had bought the island two hundred years before, they’d planted their vineyard and built the school, which was what had grown the tiny village of Gulliver Township. The school’s brass bell hadn’t rung in decades, but the place was still important to the island.

It was important to her, and not just as a distraction over the whole ten-year nonsense.

Jaime wiped her mouth and pushed up and out of her booth to step closer to their table. Her father spoke to Tom Gulliver, her boss at the winery, and a few other township trustees.

“Excuse me,” she said. “The construction crew is making good progress. I don’t think we need to call it quits so soon.” The lie tasted bad in her mouth.

“The crew isn’t coming back. Luther made it official when he stopped by the township office a half hour ago.” Mason sighed. His patronizing tone set the hairs on the back of Jaime’s neck on edge.

“What do you mean they aren’t coming back? I was with Luther not more than an hour ago. He left, but only for the weekend.” Jaime couldn’t wrap her head around what her father was saying. This was bad. Really, really bad.

“The renovation wasn’t thought out clearly enough.”

“Answer my question. How do you know the crew is walking out of the job?”

Mason sucked in a slow breath and Jaime fisted her hands at her sides. “I mean he stopped by the township office with the unsigned contract and said he was through being monitored by a party planner and walked out.”

Party planner? Monitored? She’d been doing her job. Mason continued before Jaime could defend herself. “And, Jaime, sweetheart, I’m not sure you have all the facts about Gulliver School.”

“I know it’s a historic landmark. I know it educated several generations of Gulliver residents and mainland kids.” She straightened her shoulders. “I know during World War II the Red Cross used it as a meeting place of sorts for the women left behind.” Just because something didn’t work the way some thought it should didn’t mean that thing should be destroyed. “The building has a lot of issues, but it isn’t as bad as we initially thought—”

“Did you know little Andy Grapple broke one of the windows over the weekend, crawled inside and then fell from the second-floor landing?” Tom Gulliver’s voice was deep and passionate.

Tom and her father had been buddies as long as Jaime could remember. Other than her father Tom was the only person on the island who knew exactly what had happened ten years before. All those years ago her father helped her hide her scars, and thanks to Tom she had a good job, but this was not the same. “No, I—”

“Did you know some of the high school kids have used that place as a parking spot?” her father chimed in. Of course she knew that. Everyone knew that.

“Or that the roof is collapsing?” Rick Meter, another trustee, joined the conversation.

Yes, she knew more about the old school than anyone else on the island at this point. She hadn’t known about Andy’s fall, though, which was odd, but she knew renovation could save the old brick building. Throwing it away like a broken toy was just...wrong. “Roofs can be fixed, windows replaced.”

“We can’t station a guard outside 24/7 to keep kids out of it.”

“You could install an alarm system,” a new voice joined the conversation. The hairs on Jaime’s neck stood up again. The man in the corner. This time it wasn’t annoyance at being talked down to that caused the reaction. It was the voice itself. A voice she never thought she’d hear, at least not while she was on Gulliver.

The broad shoulders.

The not too long but not too short black hair.

Sure, his face was turned away, but she should have known or at least suspected. Ten years.

She turned slowly and felt the blood drain from her cheeks. The man from the corner booth wasn’t so much stranger as long-lost resident.

Emmett Deal stood there, listening to her argument with the trustees. Sunlight glinted off the pristine windshield of an unfamiliar work truck. Stenciled on the side were the words Deal Construction. Here was Emmett and here was his truck. She blinked and he was still standing at a table near the front door. She wasn’t imagining him.

His eyes were bluer than she remembered. More of a cerulean than the baby blues that invaded her dreams when she was overly tired. He was taller, too. Not by much, maybe an inch. His shoulders more broad and his hips— Jaime gave herself a mental shake and brought her gaze back to Emmett’s beautiful face. Chiseled jaw...hint of stubble.

Before he’d left Emmett had hated that he couldn’t grow a proper mustache. It didn’t look as though that was a problem any longer. Black, black hair flirted with the collar of his tight T.

He seemed to look straight past her, though. Jaime swallowed and tried to ignore her rapidly beating heart.

Okay, so looking at his face wasn’t the right thing to do, either. She turned back to the men at the table.

“An alarm.” She swallowed, hating that her voice slid up an octave. “An alarm system is a good start, and better than razing a building that is important to Gulliver,” she said, this time keeping her voice steady. “We can hire another reno crew.” Somewhere in the state of Ohio there had to be a construction crew available. There had to be. “With so much activity, the kids will stay away.”

“Even during overnights and weekends?” Her father shook his head and folded his beefy arms over his chest. He sat back in his chair. “We don’t have the staff to run over to the school every time a squirrel sets off the system. We should reallocate the budget into teardown and creating a city park on the land.”

Jaime cleared her throat but her mind was blank. “A memorial park isn’t better than a building that has stood watch over this town, this island, for two hundred years.”

Emmett refilled his to-go coffee cup at the counter. “A good system will know the difference between a squirrel and a person. Parks are great things but there is plenty of undeveloped land on the island that could be used for a new park. Not that it’s any of my business.” He paid Anna and faced the table while he sipped his drink.

Jaime wasn’t sure if she should hug Emmett for taking her side or demand that he let her handle this on her own.

“No, it’s not.” Her father’s words were curt. “This is a township decision.”

Demand he leave. Definitely, definitely demand he leave. Mason was about to go ballistic about outsiders versus islanders. “Thank you—”

Emmett cut her off. “I may not live on Gulliver any longer, but my father does. He came close to having the school declared a historic landmark a few years back.” He sipped his coffee, looking at the men at the table and studiously avoiding the section of the diner where Jaime now stood. That annoyed the bejesus out of her.

“As I said, this is a township decision. Before we spend more money on another crew that will leave us high and dry, I think we should seriously consider demolition. And as you said yourself, you’re not part of the township. Haven’t been for ten years.”

“Seems like it wouldn’t take much work to fill in the gaps in that old application. Renovating is never cheap but a lot of times it is cheaper than tearing down.”

“Maybe you should stick to what you know.” Mason’s voice was low in the quiet diner.

“As it happens, I know old buildings. I could take a look at it.”

“And then leave when things get tougher than you imagined?”

Color flooded Jaime’s cheeks. This wasn’t about the school building; not any longer. Her father was being his usual bullheaded self. Blaming Emmett for something that wasn’t his fault.

Before her father could say something he didn’t mean Jaime pushed back into the conversation. “Then the township should decide, not just the board of trustees. During the island’s bicentennial last summer every Gulliver business benefited from the increased tourist traffic. If the school is renovated, we would have that kind of draw all the time. A few artists stop every summer to paint the old building. Renovation will give them more of a reason to come back than a park.”

From the hand in his pocket to the hunched shoulders, Emmett looked anything but comfortable. As if this conversation was not going the way he’d thought.

Well, then, he should have butted out from the beginning.

“Are you willing to take a look? So we know exactly what to talk to demolition or renovation experts about.” Tom Gulliver practically preened as he said the words.

“I’ll be on the island for a few weeks. Whatever you decide, I can offer my opinion.”

The bell over the door tinkled as Emmett pushed through it. He got into his truck without looking back and drove away.

Jaime realized she was staring—again—and looked back at her father.

“I still say we should vote on demolition at the meeting tonight,” he said from his side of the table.

“Dad—”

“The Deal boy might have the right idea. Could be cheaper to restore the building, I’ve said that from the beginning. It’s part of island history.” Rick Meter picked his teeth with a toothpick and Jaime shivered. Of all the times for her to agree with Rick Meter. “We hired Luther’s crew after a light appraisal from Troy Turner at the real-estate office. Emmett will know better what exactly the building needs and we can go from there.”

Jaime clenched her hands. Emmett will know better, indeed. He knew all about running away, but staying? Fixing what was broken?

“Restoring the building will bring more tourists to Gulliver, and not just during the summer months. Tourists already visit the islands to see Perry’s Monument—” she mentioned the memorial at Put-in-Bay “—and the Marblehead Lighthouse. Gulliver School could become one of those draws.”

“Getting a true estimate before we start the hiring process, for demo or reno, is smart.” Rick leaned back in his seat and plucked another toothpick from the table dispenser. He stuck it between his teeth and then put his hands behind his head. “Even if we voted tonight we wouldn’t have the permits or contracts for demolition before the summer is over. We’ve already got permits for renovation.”

Tom nodded. “Mason?”

“We should just vote. That building is a menace.” Her father tapped his fingers against his biceps as if his opinion settled everything. Probably he thought it did.

Jaime held her breath.

Finally, Tom said, “Okay, we’ll get that estimate. I’ll call over to the Deal house this afternoon.”

“I’ll do it. You asked me to head the project, which includes estimates and new hires.” Jaime kept her voice steady and looked from Rick to Tom and then to her father.

Mason’s expression remained impassive but his eyes studied her as if she had two heads. Maybe she did. She hadn’t left her father’s house for weeks after the senior trip. Then Emmett had stood her up on prom night. She hadn’t mentioned his name in years. Now she was suggesting the town hire him for a job that would keep him around for an extended amount of time.

Well, she wasn’t the same girl she’d been when he’d left.

Emmett being back didn’t change that.

CHAPTER TWO

EMMETT APPROACHED THE front door of the dilapidated Victorian home with dread. When he’d left Gulliver’s Island ten years before the gingerbread trim along the roof was an inviting green, the porch painted a delicate peach and the second floor a deep navy.

The painted lady he remembered was chipped and stained.

There was no trace of the peach color on the porch, although sometime in the past few years the porch steps had been painted what appeared to be a bull’s-eye red color. A few strips of navy remained along the windows on the second floor. The gingerbread trim looked like the rotting wood it was.

From a professional standpoint the place was a mess, but he knew he could bring her back to life.

From a personal standpoint, he didn’t understand how things had gotten this far.

How had his stickler father allowed this to happen to their home?

The doctor’s voice echoed in his mind, reminding Emmett of his father’s diagnosis. He clenched his hands. He’d failed his dad in not coming back for all this time. Maybe if he had...

Staying off the island had made it easier to move forward. Easier to forget the careless boy he’d been and to become someone capable, dependable.

The boy who’d been careless enough to ruin the life of his best friend was gone and in his place was a man people came to, to solve their problems.

Jaime Brown’s big brown eyes seemed to dance in front of him. He’d left to make things simpler for her, but seeing her again... She was no longer the broken girl who’d come back from Pittsburgh, but she wasn’t the girl he remembered from before the attack, either.

The front door creaked open and Gibson Deal stuck his head around the corner, a shock of white hair falling forward to hide eyes that were once a clear, bright blue and were now faded like Emmett’s Levi’s.

“I’m not buyin’ nothin’,” Gibson said in a voice that still held the iron Emmett remembered from his youth. To listen to the old man, nothing had changed. It was probably one of the reasons no one on the island had figured out Gibson was fading. He could still talk a blue streak; had opinions on everything. Hell, during his visit to Cincinnati last fall Emmett had thought his father was fine. Last week the doctor had assured him that during that visit his father had already been losing his mind.

Emmett was doing more than listening for the first time in years. He was observing and what he saw left no doubt in his mind that the doctors in Toledo were right. His father was fading.

Gibson’s hand tremored against the door and there was a confused look in his gaze.

“It’s me, Dad. Emmett.”

The door creaked open a few more inches. Gibson pushed the hair from his face, squinted faded blue eyes and pressed his lips together while he inspected Emmett as if he’d never seen him before.

“Well, what the hay are you doing on the porch? Come on in, boy. I’ve been expecting you.” As if nothing was wrong. As if Emmett landed on this doorstep every other weekend. “You said you’d bring paint. Did you bring paint? Mary Margaret loves to paint.”

Emmett motioned to his truck loaded with enough paint, wood and various other supplies to fix up every house on the island, which was good since he’d volunteered to—at least—take a look at Gulliver School, too. Maybe his father wasn’t the only one losing his mind.

Thinking about the school brought back the image of Jaime.

Wearing white pants and a silky blue top. In eighty-five-degree weather. When he’d known her she’d worn sundresses on any day the temperature breached seventy.

He could still see her standing on her front porch in a white sundress with pretty blue flowers long into October that last year he’d been on the island. It had been unseasonably warm that fall and when anyone had reminded her of the changing seasons she would smile and tell them she wasn’t ready for turtlenecks and snow boots just yet.

The calendar would change over to June in a few days and already it felt like August on the island.

She’d also cut her hair and the shoulder-length blond curls suited her face. She was thinner than he remembered, but those brown eyes were still deep enough to drown in. Not that he had any intention of drowning.

The Jaime he remembered... The Jaime he remembered had grown up, Emmett told himself. Just as he had.

“I’ve brought everything we’ll need with me.” He wasn’t sure what he would need when he’d left Cincinnati, only that the sooner he had the place fixed up the sooner it would sell. The sooner he could get Gibson into the assisted-living facility in Cincinnati where he could begin treatment. Not that treatment would change anything.

He’d done enough late-night internet surfing to know there was no coming back from dementia. There would be good days and bad, and eventually he would lose his father altogether, even though the man might still be alive.

Emmett’s heart beat rapidly at the thought. Gibson was his only family and he didn’t want to lose the old man.

He shouldn’t have made such a big deal about coming back to Gulliver. Should have made more of an effort to put the past to rest. He’d lost ten years he could have had with Gibson and for what? Because he’d made a few mistakes as a teenager? Didn’t everyone?

“You thirsty? Want a sandwich before we get started?”

Emmett couldn’t stomach what might be on the inside of the refrigerator. “I thought we’d just make an inventory list today.” The farther into the house they walked, the more Emmett’s hopes sank. When he was a kid, the hardwood floors would have gleamed, the end tables sparkled. A few magazines might have been stacked on one end of the coffee table and there would have been a basket for the TV and radio remotes beside his father’s favorite green recliner. His mom would have been baking something and, more often than not, Jaime would wander in through the back door.

Emmett refocused on his father.

What he saw now were stacks and stacks of newspapers. A few empty food containers. The TV was on but muted. Two lampshades sat askew because of the jackets hanging from them. Envelopes—some opened and some still sealed—littered the dining-room table and a thin film of dust covered everything.

Emmett swallowed. How much worse would it be if his father hadn’t taken the ferry to the mainland last month? He’d boarded a bus for Dayton at the ferry stop and become so disoriented that a restaurant manager had called the police. The police had called Emmett and now he could see for himself that things were very wrong. He dragged his finger through the dust covering his mom’s favorite side table and then wiped his caked finger on his jeans.

“Dad, I thought you hired that local company to clean once a week after Mom died.” He tripped over something and picked it up, holding the cracked leather shoes by their strings. What were his old football cleats doing in the hallway?

Gibson waved his hand as they continued through to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water and passed it to Emmett. “Those girls didn’t know a broom from a dust rag. I let them go a while back.”

His mother had passed away the summer after he’d left the island. God, how had he missed all of this in their weekly phone calls?

Once more Emmett racked his brain, trying to remember any incident that could have alerted him during Gibson’s last visit. He’d been a little more crotchety and particular than normal, but when had Gibson not been particular? From the pressed pants and natty ties he’d worn every day to school to the way Emmett’s baseball uniforms should be washed after the games, Gibson had ideas. Ways of doing things. Emmett and his mother had become so used to his opinions that they’d forgotten any other way of doing things. So it was normal to fall into that routine when his father had visited for a couple of weeks in October.

When he’d left Emmett had found a stack of newspapers under the bed but hadn’t thought anything of it.

Now he wished he had.

“I was thinking we’d start with the porch. You know how your mother likes a clean and pretty porch. Peach. That was her favorite color.” Gibson finished his water and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “The upper level should be navy and I think green would be a nice color around the eaves.”

“Dad—”

“And in here, I know your mother likes her wallpaper, but I think paint is more practical. And if we used some of that blue, it would be a nice accent for her paintings and things.”

“Dad.” Emmett tried again, but Gibson kept talking.

“Now, we turned your bedroom into a sewing room for your mother a few years ago so you’ll be staying in the guest room. If we could just update the closets and bring in a little more storage space for your mom’s bits and bobs, we’ll be in good shape, don’t you think?” He looked around the dingy kitchen with pride, obviously not seeing the dirty stove or ancient refrigerator. “We’ll bring this place back to life yet.”

Emmett tossed their water bottles into the empty trash can and then grabbed several old containers from the cabinets to throw away. He considered running scalding-hot water into the sink to wash the piles of plates and cutlery but decided against it and tossed it all into the trash. No amount of dish soap or hot water could bring those things back to life.

“Dad, we’re fixing this place up to sell it, remember? You’re coming to live in Cincinnati, near me.” He was careful not to say “with me.” The doctors had been clear. Though his father was in the early stages, he needed more care than Emmett could give on his own. And patients like Gibson would grab on to any chance to stay in their homes. Emmett had failed his father so far; he wasn’t going to fail at this. Gibson would come to Cincinnati and get the care he needed.