Chapter Ten #3
So far, he’d written three new sentences and deleted a whole paragraph. The opposite of productivity. At this rate, he’d never meet his March 15 deadline.
Stephanie would ream him out.
He blew out a long breath and then glanced at Darby Jane, nestled on a red beanbag in the nearby children’s nook.
She had a stack of books at her feet and one on her lap.
Her eyes roamed over the pages, but she’d flipped through the first book far too quickly.
He probably should have arranged for childcare, but that defeated the purpose of charging for tutoring, and he’d been optimistic that the library could keep her occupied.
Determined to write at least one decent paragraph before his new student showed up, Burke reread the most recent words he hadn’t cut from the scene.
The library door opened, stealing his attention.
An older woman and a preteen girl walked in, both carrying fabric tote bags filled with books.
Cold air accompanied them and circled slowly around Burke.
He shivered and then adjusted the zipper on his gray fleece pullover jacket.
A pleasant aroma of paper mingled with the not-so-pleasing scent of wet socks. Burke wrinkled his nose and discreetly glanced around, unable to identify the source of the odor.
Stay. On. Task.
The keys were smooth under his fingertips.
After enduring three weeks with a cast on his wrist and then graduating to a splint, he’d progressed from pecking out a few words at a time to typing at a respectable rate.
Nothing close to how quickly he’d once moved at the keyboard.
That felt like another lifetime ago. But at least he’d added a few more words to his manuscript.
The time inched closer to four o’clock, so he clicked Save and closed the file.
It was pointless trying to concentrate. Instead, he reached for his phone.
He owed Jovi a thank-you. The thought had niggled at him since they’d shared a table at the coffee shop yesterday.
So far he’d procrastinated in reaching out.
Mostly because telling her about Mary Catherine and Henry had made him feel vulnerable.
And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. Then her father’s reaction at seeing them together somehow made him feel guilty.
More guilty than he already felt over losing his wife and child. How was that even possible?
The other problem was that he couldn’t overlook the feelings that flowed through him like a warm summer breeze. Feelings that invited him to say and do things he should not. That jeopardized the precarious safety net he’d relied on to protect him and Darby Jane.
He hadn’t been on a first date or pursued a woman since he’d met Mary Catherine nearly twenty years ago.
The thought of asking a woman out terrified him.
And then, after the debacle with those photos of his agent leaving his house, he’d doubled down on his plan to avoid anything that might be misconstrued as dating.
Folks had said terrible things on social media about Stephanie.
He couldn’t put anyone through that again.
Mostly, he just wasn’t ready to put himself out there.
Except his reliance on neighbors back in Charleston and here in Evergreen had spotlighted an impossible-to-ignore dilemma: Darby Jane needed a strong female presence in her life, and he’d gone and plucked her out of her community.
Guilt sauntered into his belly like a spaghetti Western villain through the swinging doors of an old saloon. Audacious. Pretending to own the place.
Burke had grown weary of kowtowing to the ugly emotions.
So he created a new text message to Jovi.
First, he attached a picture he’d taken earlier of the sun bathing the mountains west of town in shades of pink and lavender.
It offered the perfect backdrop for her family’s cabin nestled in a grove of trees at the end of their road.
But sadly, words failed him. He scowled at his phone’s screen.
It shouldn’t be that hard to tell someone he appreciated their kindness.
Besides, she’d rescued him multiple times.
Now he needed to repay her generosity. He tapped out an invitation to have dinner at his house on Friday.
Made it clear that he wanted to thank her.
There. Casual, low-pressure, and frankly the least he could do.
He hesitated. Their families had been at odds for decades.
Mr. Wright had mentioned a bitter falling-out.
Just enough information to aggravate him.
Was there some diabolical secret associated with Jovi’s family that he had yet to uncover?
Chuckling, he promptly dismissed the notion. Jovi didn’t have a mean bone in her body.
Before he pressed the icon to send the text, a teenage boy approached, uncertainty in his expression. He hesitated beside Burke’s table. “Mr. Solomon?”
Burke set his phone down, then rose and extended his uninjured hand. “Yes, and you must be Alex.”
Alex offered a nervous smile and a firm handshake. “Yes, sir.”
Wow, impressive manners. “It’s nice to meet you. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” Alex shrugged out of his letterman jacket, then sat and unzipped his backpack. “I appreciate you doing this.”
“Not a problem.” Burke closed his laptop and pushed it aside. “Sorry to hear you’re struggling.”
Alex hesitated, then reached up and adjusted the folded edge of his black beanie. “I don’t know that struggling is the right word. Then again, I’m not too great with words.” He shrugged. “Guess that’s why I’m here.”
“Let’s see what we’re up against. Do you have a syllabus or something that hints at what we’re aiming for?”
“Uh, maybe.” Alex opened a folder and riffled through some papers.
Darby Jane picked that exact moment to trot over to the table. “Daddy, I’m bored.”
Burke swallowed back an irritated groan. “Alex, this is my daughter, Darby Jane. Darby Jane, this is Alex.” He leaned closer to her ear. “Sweet pea, we talked about this. You said you’d be fine with a stack of books.”
“But I’d be even better if you’d let me play a game on your phone.” She hopped from one foot to the other, flashing her most charming smile.
Oy. This kid.
Alex hid a laugh behind his hand.
Burke passed her his phone. “All right, but keep the volume turned off.”
“Awww, man.” She tipped her head back and glared at the ceiling. “Shoulda brought my headphones.”
“I can’t help you there. No headphones. Sound off . Got it?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” She clutched the phone in her little hand and skipped back to the beanbag.
“She’s funny,” Alex said.
“Thank you.” Burke stared after her. “A real handful, that one.”
“I always want to play games on my phone instead of reading, too,” Alex said. “Probably another reason I’m in the mess that I’m in.”
“Noted.” Burke smiled. “Any clues or objectives for your project in that folder?”
Alex slid the paper across the table. “Here’s what my teacher wants me to do.”
Burke read the assignment. A three- to five-page paper analyzing the themes of The Great Gatsby . Whoa. He’d have to go way back in the dusty files of his memory to even remember what that classic novel was about.
“Not going to lie, this is a tall order.” He gave the paper back to Alex. “Let me do a quick internet search for a plot summary.”
“So you haven’t read it either?” Alex sat back in his chair, looking somewhat victorious.
“Not in about two decades.”
“I don’t get why she makes us read the old stuff. But my dad says if I want to be eligible for wrestling season, I have to do exactly what my teacher asks.” Alex frowned. “No complaining.”
“Do you have a copy of the book?”
“Yeah, I think I brought it.” Alex dug through his backpack. More papers rustled, and he set aside a three-ring binder.
Before he could start up his computer, Darby Jane hurried back to his side. “Daddy, guess what? I sent Jovi that pretty picture. Plus I added one of me all dressed up in my hundredth-day costume. And I did it all by myself.”
Oh, no.
Panic arced through him, white-hot and razor-sharp.
“Darby Jane.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to lose his composure in front of Alex. Or hurt his daughter’s feelings. “Now’s not the best time to discuss this. I’m sure Jovi will love seeing the pictures. Will you give Alex and me a few minutes so I can help him with his project, please?”
“Yep.” She went back to her beanbag.
“No more texting without permission, though,” he called after her.
Burke refused to meet Alex’s curious gaze. So that was that. He’d just offered dinner to Jovi. How would he ever pull that off?
Alex leaned across the table, studying him. “Dude, your face just got, like, super pale.”
Burke dragged his hand over his face. “Well, to be honest, my daughter just sent a text from me offering a beautiful woman dinner this Friday night.” He lifted his splinted arm. “Not exactly a whiz in the kitchen.”
Alex grinned. “I got you. My mom could probably help you out.”
“Your mom?”
“Yeah, she makes most of the food for all the big events around town. Want me to text her and ask?”
“Uh, sure.”
Alex fished his phone out. His thumbs flew over the tiny keyboard.
Burke stared, trying not to be envious. Typing he could do. But he’d never picked up the texting dexterity like kids these days.
Less than a minute later, the whoosh of an incoming message held Burke’s attention.
“She says she’d be glad to help,” Alex said. “She’ll text you some information about her Valentine’s Day special. Mom’s an amazing cook. I don’t know who your girl is, but she’ll be high-key impressed with the food.”