Driftwood Lane (Nantucket #4)(6)
A loud rumble made her jump. “What in the world is that?”
Max shrugged. “The furnace.”
It sounded like a rumble of thunder. She wondered how old the heating system was. Oh well. Not her problem. She was only here until Uncle Jay returned. Max’s description of him nagged at her, but she pushed the thought from her mind.
She had to do something about dividing the guest quarters from the family’s, though. She added it to her growing mental list.
“Want me to get your suitcase?” Max asked.
Meridith smiled. “That’s very sweet. Thank you.”
While he clomped down the stairs beside Piper, Meridith wandered back to the family wing to check on the others. Ben was sprawled across his top bunk, eyes closed, mouth gaping. Poor little guy. He probably wasn’t sleeping well.
It was close to dinnertime. Maybe Noelle would like to help her in the kitchen. She walked toward Noelle’s closed door and raised her hand. The furnace kicked off, and in the sudden silence, another sound caught Meridith’s ear. She leaned closer to the door and heard the unmistakable sound of stifled sobs.
Four
Jake Walker straddled his Harley and popped the kickstand, settling into the worn leather seat. He needed a good meal, shower, and sleep, not necessarily in that order. He was tired of the greasy diner down the road, though the service was friendly enough, but his stomach was rumbling too loud to be picky.
“Hey, Jake, hang on a minute.”
Jake released the handlebars and leaned back while Levi ambled down the new porch steps of the Habitat for Humanity home they’d been building for two weeks.
“How about a real bed tonight? Mary said not to take no for an answer.”
Jake drove his thumbs into his jeans pockets. “I don’t mind sleeping on the ground.” A pup tent, sleeping bag, and a Harley—all a man needed.
“Mary’s fixing pork roast. Haven’t you had about all you can stand of Clyde’s Diner? Or is it the flirtin’ that’s bringing you back?”
Jake grinned. “Man’s got to eat.”
Levi laughed. “So he does. But Mary’s roast will make up for any flirting you miss, and she’s already fluffed up the pillows in the spare room. Plus, you can check in with your family. Use our phone, or we have a computer now. Don’t know how to use it, but there it sets.”
A home-cooked meal and soft bed did sound appealing. And it had been a few weeks since he’d checked in with Eva. “Don’t mind if I do. Mighty kind of you.”
“You’re doing me a favor. Mary woulda had my neck if I came home without you. Follow me.”
Levi climbed into his pickup and started the old thing. Minutes later they were on a two-lane highway, headed east. The air rushed over Jake’s skin, billowed his shirt. Ahead of him, Lookout Mountain rose into the cloudless sky. Maybe he’d explore it over the weekend. A change of scenery would be nice, though March in the Alabama mountains might get chilly.
Levi turned onto a gravel road, and Jake followed him a couple miles until he turned into the drive of a white farmhouse, set back off the road in a pine grove.
When they entered the house, Levi introduced him to Mary, who fussed over him, then showed him to his room.
Supper was a treat. Roasted pork, mashed potatoes, corn, and homemade bread. Made him miss his sister’s good cooking. They lingered, talking about the Habitat house, Mary’s garden plans, and his own family back on Nantucket. After the meal he took a long hot shower, and by the time he was done, he realized it was too late to call Eva. An hour later on the island. Eva would wring his neck if he woke the kids on a school night.
It would have to be e-mail. He wandered past the living room, where Levi and Mary watched TV, into the office where they’d told him to help himself to the computer.
The machine was a monstrosity, and Jake wondered if it even worked. But five slow minutes later he was online and opening his e-mail account.
There was probably a long newsy letter from Eva awaiting him, to which he’d hunt and peck his way to a four-sentence reply that would take him until midnight.
He typed in his password and waited for his inbox to appear, drumming his fingers on the scarred oak desk that hogged the tiny room. The chair squeaked as he settled back.
His inbox appeared, and he frowned as he scanned the messages. None from Eva. There were a bunch from Noelle and a couple from addresses he didn’t recognize.
He opened his niece’s oldest one first, dated three weeks ago.
Uncle J, please call as soon as you get this!!!
A smile tugged his lips. No doubt a teenage tragedy involving a boy. No one could say his niece was short on dramatics. It was Noelle who had started his nickname when she was no more than a baby. Unable to pronounce the k in Jake, she’d shortened his name to J. The name had caught and stuck.
He opened the next message from Noelle dated the following day.
Please call Uncle J!!! Something bad has happened!!
He frowned. What was going on? He was suddenly sure the urgency was more than teen angst.
Her next e-mail was sent later on the same day.
Uncle J, I didn’t want to tell you this in an e-mail but I can’t stand it anymore. Mom and Dad died! There was a boat accident and they’re never coming home again! I’m so sad I haven’t stopped crying. The funeral is in two days and we need you here!!!