Windswept Way (Hope Harbor #9)(49)
Author: Irene Hannon

 

But who was she to criticize people who shunned the spotlight?

 

“That will be fine. Ashley, come along and help me check the lights.” She took the other woman’s arm and guided her inside, locking the door behind them. “Why don’t you circle left and I’ll go right? We can meet up in the kitchen.”

 

Two minutes later, when they rendezvoused, Ashley appeared less flustered. “No lights on my side.”

 

“Nor on mine.” Rose strolled over to the security system control panel and flipped open the door, keeping her inflection casual. “I didn’t realize you’d become such close friends with our landscaper.”

 

“I haven’t. We’re, uh, just getting acquainted. He came by tonight for the cell phone he forgot earlier and we, uh, ran into each other.”

 

“I get the feeling he’s on the skittish side.”

 

“He is. He was injured in the Middle East and usually wears a cap and sunglasses to cover the scars, but he didn’t expect to run into anyone here tonight.” She glanced toward the back door. “I was surprised he agreed to walk you back to the cottage. He won’t be able to keep his distance.”

 

“Well, it’s dark and foggy out—and he may not care if I see his scars.”

 

Ashley frowned. “Maybe I should slip out a different door. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

 

“That’s very considerate, but it’s possible he’d like to continue the conversation I interrupted. Why don’t you join us?”

 

“No.” She shook her head, a hint of panic flaring in her eyes as she backed toward the hallway. “I’m ready to call it a night. If you’ll give me a minute to leave through the terrace door, I’ll lock it behind me.”

 

“Don’t you want to say good night to Jon?”

 

Ashley continued backing away. “You can pass that on for me, if you wouldn’t mind.”

 

“Not at all.”

 

With that, her partner fled.

 

An apt description. That girl was running scared.

 

And that wasn’t all bad. Getting carried away with romantic fancies could lead to heartache, especially if you fell for the wrong person. She was wise to be wary.

 

After the green light on the security panel indicated Ashley had slipped out, Rose armed the system and crossed to the back door.

 

Her attempt to give the two young people a chance to extend their evening after her ill-timed interruption may have failed, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a few minutes one-on-one with Jon. That would allow her to do a more thorough assessment.

 

He was waiting in the shadows as she exited and locked the door. “Ashley went on ahead to the carriage house. She asked me to tell you good night.”

 

“Thanks for passing that on.” His relief was obvious.

 

Apparently Ashley wasn’t the only one running scared.

 

She extended her arm, and after a moment he emerged from the fog and grasped her hand, still staying as far away as possible.

 

“Watch the step.” He dipped his chin and motioned toward the ground.

 

“I’ll be careful.”

 

Once she was on level terrain, he crooked his elbow. “Even after two years here, I haven’t gotten used to the fog.”

 

“It can be quite intimidating.” She slipped her hand through his arm as they set off. “Where are you from?”

 

“Born and raised in Atlanta.”

 

“Ah. I thought I detected a slight southern accent.”

 

“You have an excellent ear. There isn’t much left.”

 

“I knew someone once from the South.” No point in telling him her husband had been raised in Alabama.

 

“I consider myself an Oregonian now. By the way, Charley Lopez asked me to give you his regards.”

 

“Thank you. He’s such a dear man.” A light came on in the carriage house as they passed, and Rose motioned toward the ghostly glow in the fog. “Ashley’s another dear person. She came along right when I needed someone like her in my life. God was watching out for me, I think.”

 

“Or it was a lucky coincidence.”

 

She looked up at him. Whatever physical scars he bore were impossible for eighty-year-old eyes to discern in the dark and mist, but his jaw was somewhat asymmetrical.

 

His scornful tone, on the other hand, was crystal clear. A definite indication his scars were more than skin-deep.

 

“You don’t believe in God’s providence?”

 

“Let’s just say I haven’t seen much evidence of it.”

 

“Yet you quoted the Bible.”

 

“Correction. My mother quoted the Bible. I was relaying what she told me.”

 

“So you’re not a believer?” She might have to rethink his suitability for Ashley.

 

“I didn’t say that. But God and I haven’t communicated in a while.”

 

“Ashley goes to church every Sunday.”

 

“My sister does too.”

 

“Church attendance is a fine habit.”

 

“Do you go?”

 

Touché.

 

“God and I have an understanding.”

 

Several seconds passed before he responded. “My mother also used to remind us not to cast the first stone unless we were without sin.” His manner was conversational, but his message hit home.

 

Fighting back a niggle of guilt, she motioned to the path. “Watch your step.” A warning as much for herself as it was for him. She didn’t know his history, didn’t know what had driven a wedge between him and God. It was wrong to judge or criticize or jump to conclusions. “There’s a small rut in the drive about here that we should avoid.”

 

“Thanks for the warning. Ruts can be dangerous.”

 

In more ways than one, as Charley had reminded her.

 

She tightened her grip on his arm and redirected the conversation. “In case you didn’t know, Ashley has been trying to convince me to play the piano at the open house next weekend.”

 

“She mentioned that. After tonight, I can see why. I hope you’ll reconsider.”