Chapter Twenty-Six
Jack arrived at the construction site before dawn.
His flight to Japan was in five days and he couldn’t wait to get out of town.
The golf course was ready to go, and sticking around to oversee the resurrection of the Roost was the only thing holding him back from leaving immediately and putting Alice behind him forever.
The security guard at the base of the road was already in place. Jack slowed his truck and rolled down the window. “If Sebastian Bell shows up, tell him he can’t get in.”
“Got it,” the guard said, and Jack felt a guilty thrill from giving the order.
He owned the Roost and the land it sat on, which meant he got to set the rules.
No Sebastian Bell. Heck, he could ban Alice if he wanted.
After last night, he had zero desire to endure another round of her holier-than-thou pronouncements.
He’d been nothing but honest with her, and now she was pecking him to death with a list of demands to fix himself.
He met with Zeke, the lead contractor, at the concrete foundation that would soon support the new addition to the Roost. The stub-out pipes stuck up from the concrete like sentinels, ready for the plumbing and electrical systems.
“Have we got all the electrical permits done?”
Zeke nodded. “The state guy came by yesterday and confirmed everything is in order.”
“Good,” Jack said. “I want to get everything squared away for the next stage of construction before I leave. With luck, I’ll be out of here on Friday. Do you see any problems with that?”
“Nope,” Zeke said. “So long as you answer your cell phone, I can keep you in the loop no matter where you are.”
It was exactly what he wanted to hear. He spent the next twenty minutes walking through the construction site, inspecting the stakes for the future terraced gardens, the meandering walkways, and the wooden balcony that would someday overlook Saint Helga’s Spring.
At the Roost, the final stage of prying up the original floorboards was underway.
The air was filled with the sounds of clattering hammers, squeaks of old wood, and pings from hand-forged nails being collected in a tin can.
Those old nails couldn’t be reused, but Alice planned to put them on display in clear glass jars in the tavern.
Alice’s blue Prius slowly turned onto the parking lot.
He turned away and sighed, wishing she hadn’t come.
Everything about seeing Alice hurt, but he owed her too much to let last night fester any longer.
He rubbed the back of his neck, jaw tight.
He wasn’t good at this. Never had been. But he owed her something—maybe not an apology, but a clean ending.
He squared his shoulders and walked to meet her.
“Hey, Jack,” she said in her eternally soft and kind voice when she got out of her car.
He nodded but didn’t look at her. “What’s up, Alice? Is there anything you need my help with? I’m working over at the golf course today, so I don’t have much time.” The words came out colder than he intended, but he didn’t take them back. Better to draw the line cleanly.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry about last night.”
He kept his gaze focused on the line of trees in the distance. “Yeah, me too. It doesn’t change anything, though. I’m leaving Virginia; you’re staying; end of story.”
“Have you thought any more about going to see your father?”
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. The sound was sharp and sudden, and for once, he was grateful. Saved by the bell.
He pulled it out, answering without even glancing at her.
“Jack, we’ve got a big problem at the waterfall,” the golf course manager said. “The water has stopped flowing and we can’t get it working again. Should I call the engineers in?”
Jack bit back a curse. That pump had been wonky since the beginning, and he could only pray the entire waterfall wouldn’t need dismantling to replace it with an entirely new system.
“Hold off on that; I’ll be right there,” he said, then did an about-face to stride toward the waterfall.
Naturally, Alice had overheard and started following him. She was probably worried water might spill over into the wetlands around Saint Helga’s Spring, and if that happened, he’d end up with another environmental cleanup bill.
His annoyance ratcheted higher as he drew near the waterfall, his feet sinking into the soft soil of the fairway, leaving ugly footprints on the pristine grass. He plopped down onto one of the boulders lining the artificial pond to yank off his shoes and socks.
“Jack, time is growing short, and your father needs you,” Alice said. “Are you going to keep running for the rest of your life?”
He yanked off his second sock, balled it up, and threw it to the side. “You and your happily-ever-afters,” he groused. “How did that work out for you and Sebastian? Or your parents? Those two are drill sergeants, not husband and wife.”
“Your parents were happy,” she retorted. “You said your father idolized your mother.”
“He did, and then he fell apart after she died and became a useless drunk. It taught me the value of self-reliance. I don’t need anyone, with the exception of a good doctor and an occasional lawyer.”
Alice rolled her eyes heavenward. “You are the most cynical man I know.”
He braced his hand on the boulder as he stepped into the frigid water. “And you’re the most naive woman in the solar system.”
The pump was near the base of the waterfall a few yards away. He carefully moved toward it, water saturating his jeans as it covered his knees, then his thighs. Water sloshed and cold droplets spattered his face.
“Shouldn’t someone else do this?” Alice said from the edge.
“I need to know what the problem is. If it’s what I suspect, I’ll be able to fix it.” He didn’t have a spare thousand bucks to call the fountain engineers again if it was a simple matter of a clogged intake valve.
He unhooked his watch, yanked his phone from his pocket, and handed them both to Alice. “Will you hold these, please?”
It would be better if he had a pair of goggles so he could go down and get a good look, but his arms were long enough to reach the intake valve.
Sure enough, the valve was blocked. If it was just silt or vegetation clogging the valve, it wouldn’t be a big deal—but this was a major problem.
The synthetic lining from the bottom of the pond somehow got sucked up and dragged into the valve, completely blocking it.
He yanked at the liner but was unable to make progress.
This would require the pond to be drained and the installation of a new liner if he couldn’t get it out.
He tugged at the slippery lining so hard he fell backward, water reaching up to his shoulders.
“Jack, be careful,” Alice called from the shore, but he almost had that liner out. The sucking noise proved it. A few more good tugs and the water would be flowing again.
He got a firmer grasp on the lining and cleared it all out, grinning in satisfaction as the trickling water percolated through the lines again.
“Watch out!” Alice screamed, but a blast of water hit him in the head from above, knocking him down hard.
Alice shivered on the edge of the waterfall, listening to the wail of the ambulance siren in the distance.
She was soaking wet from head to toe. Once Jack unclogged the intake valve, a blast of water came shooting from a pipe and hit Jack so hard he fell, smacked his head against a boulder, and lost consciousness.
She’d jumped in the pond to hold his face out of the water so he could breathe, but she wasn’t strong enough to lift him up the steep bank of the pond. Thankfully, a pair of men from the ground crew heard her scream and lugged him onto the grass.
Jack’s blood was all over her. He’d been unconscious for several minutes after they dragged him onto the green, but he was starting to come around.
“You’re going to be okay,” she said to Jack. “The ambulance has just turned on to the road.”
Jack stared at the clouds above, his face chalk white and eyes pained and frightened.
“M-my medical card,” he said in a shaking voice. “In my wallet.”
Someone grabbed the wallet and located the card.
She wasn’t used to seeing him so scared.
She’d learned an injury to the head was one of the worst things for a hemophiliac.
She’d told the 911 operator about his condition, and they instructed her to keep him as still as possible.
Even now blood could be pooling inside his skull, leading to unbearable pressure and compressing his brain tissue.
The ambulance rolled across the golf course and halted a few yards away. A medic hopped out of the front seat and strode toward them while two others unloaded a stretcher from the back.
The lead medic knelt down beside Jack. “Sir, can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” Jack said.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Three.”
That had to be good. If his brain was in bad shape, he might be too confused to answer.
“We’re going to take you straight to the hospital to get some clotting factor into you. Then a bunch of docs will do their thing, okay?”
“Yeah,” Jack said again, this time his teeth beginning to chatter. Was it from the cold or from fright? She’d been shaking like a leaf ever since getting out of the pond.
One of the EMTs held Jack’s head while another slipped a collar around his neck. Once it was secured, they slid a plastic backboard beneath him.
“Who’s coming to the hospital with him?” an EMT asked.
“I am,” Alice automatically said, and mercifully, Jack didn’t countermand her. She didn’t know what to expect, but Jack needed someone with him at the hospital, and she wanted to be that person.