FICTION — PART 2
Lost
Part 2 — Getting lost can sometimes lead to the right destination
The seducing aroma of freshly brewed coffee coached Breeann’s eyes open. A set of red digital numbers on the clock perched atop the dresser indicated 7:03 AM. The light coming through the window introduced a typical winter’s day of diffused grayish skies.
She tiptoed to the archway separating her from the two children who slumbered in cocooned warmth in their respective beds. Neither child had stirred during the night, except for Josh’s occasional coughing. The luxury of an unhurried shower and some clean clothes beckoned her toward the bathroom.
After slipping on her last pair of clean jeans and a faded red flannel shirt, she swiped a light coat of gloss across her lips and ran a comb through the brown curls cut short for convenience rather than style. One more check on the children and she was ready to follow her nose in search of a cup of coffee.
The kitchen stole her heart the moment she entered the rustic and cozy room bathed in both natural and recessed lighting. Beautiful honey-brown wood planks covered the floor. Cabinets stained to match filled the wall spaces, some with open access, some with glass fronts, and some of them accented with a creamy green color wash. Curtains and chair cover in soft yellows and blues blended in a unity of design meant to coax a tired soul into sharing their essence of hospitality.
Sitting next to the coffee maker were two large mugs. On closer inspection, they appeared to be vintage ceramic with an earthy blue-green glaze and bordered with a hand-carved vine design along the top rim. “Perfect,” she whispered. She chose one and filled it with coffee, adding three teaspoons of sugar and enough cream to turn the brew into a creamy-brown delight. As she lifted it to her lips, Drake Tabor entered the kitchen through the porch doorway.
“Good, you’re up.” He nodded his head in her direction. “How about pouring me a cup of that while I make a quick phone call?” He disappeared through an open archway that led to another part of the house.
Breeann grunted under her breath. He wasn’t much for pleasantries, like a polite good morning before issuing directives. She poured the second cup, leaving it beside the coffeepot. Retrieving hers, she settled on the couch in front of the fireplace where a crackling fire disregarded the wintery wind outside. The hypnotic effect of smell, sound, and flickering light invited one to dream, maybe even hope…
“You and the kids sleep okay?”
She jumped at the nearness of his voice and pushed further back in her corner as he settled on the opposite end of the couch with his cup of coffee in hand.
“Yes, thank you.”
Her twenty-year-old heart did a double wow! How she’d ever thought him less than gorgeous was crazy. Without the murderous scowl and minus the snow-covered hat and coat, the man beneath rocked her senses.
Glossy black hair, in need of cutting, curled on the edge of his collar and framed an angular face chiseled to perfection. Those features and the richness of his swarthy skin suggested a mixed nationality.
“You’re staring again.”
The cocky grin curling his upper lip softened the comment. However, it didn’t stop the heat from rising in her face. With her cheeks blushing, she probably looked like a foolish girl.
“How old are you, Breeann?”
Yep, she’d blown her sophisticated woman-of-the-world persona. “Twenty.” She said, tilting her chin a little higher.”
His brow furrowed with the penetrating focus of his next words. “Well, here’s the facts. This storm dumped another ten inches of snow last night and it’s still coming down. I don’t know if you’re on a tight schedule, but driving is going to be out of the question for a couple of days. So you and the kids will stay here until conditions improve.”
She wondered if he ever considered asking a woman what she wanted rather than telling her. “Look, Mr. Tabor…”
“Make it Drake. Since you’ll be living with me for a while, I think we can skip the formalities.”
“I’m not living with you, Mr. Tabor, I’m simply…well, simply…”
“The bed you sleep in is mine, The food you’ll eat is mine, and the fire you’re warming yourself in front of is mine. Overall, I’d say you were living with me. But don’t get those brown curls into an uproar. I haven’t ravished any unwilling women lately…”
“Mommy. Mommy.”
Olivia ran into the kitchen, stopping at the end of the couch where Drake sat between her and her mother. She stiffened her arms, made tight little fists, and screwed up her face with the most terrifying expression.
“What’s wrong with her?” Drake asked.
“She’s just signing that she’s scared.”
Breeann smiled at his bewilderment and focused on alleviating her daughter’s concern. “It’s okay Olivia, just come to Mommy.”
Olivia skirted as far around Drake as she could and hurried to crawl into Breeann’s lap.
“It’s okay, baby, don’t be scared. This is Mr. Tabor. He’s helping us so we won’t have to drive in the bad weather outside.”
Olivia sat up and inspected Drake. “Snow?” Her face lit up with excitement. Yesterday had been her first experience with snow. She considered the white, fairy kisses falling from heaven a gift just for her.
“Why is she signing if she can hear?”
“I’ve been teaching her to sign since she was born. It enables small children to convey their thoughts and needs long before they can put those into intelligible sentences.”
“How many signs does she know?”
“About thirty.”
Her gregarious daughter took that moment to maneuver out of her arms and across the couch. Without hesitation, she sat her little bottom squarely in the middle of Drake’s lap. Breeann watched as Drake quickly moved the hand holding his cup of hot coffee away from Olivia, sitting the cup on the floor.
In the next couple of minutes, Olivia filled the room with a nonstop flow of chatter. Breeann understood enough words to know that she was telling Drake about Woofy falling out of the car into the snow. To Drake's credit, he gave Olivia his full attention and nodded once or twice during her storytelling.
“Mommy?” Olivia looked straight at her and made the sign for, father.
Breeann lifted Olivia from Drake’s lap and cuddled her close. “No, Mr. Tabor is a friend.” The hurt expression on her precious face sent a sharp pain through Breeann’s heart. She hadn’t realized that her child even understood the concept of, father, much less, that she was searching for hers.
“What did she sign?” Drake’s penetrating question left no room for skirting the subject.
“She asked if you were her father.” Breeann avoided his eyes and stared into the fire.
“Where is her father?”
“In jail.”
“For what?”
“Assault” Breeann didn’t know why she was answering his questions so freely.
“You did the right thing.”
She hadn’t said that she was the victim or that she’d filed charges, but as before, he seemed to have the ability to read her like an open book.
“Where are your parents? Is that where you’re headed now?”
“My dad died a month before Olivia was born. My stepmom died a year later. We’ve been on our own since then.”
“And the boy?”
“My stepbrother.”
Concern spread through Breeann at the realization that she was continuing to divulge her entire life history to a man she barely knew.
“So where are you and the kids going?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Tabor…”
“Drake, remember?” From his tone, she knew he expected her to comply, and if she were going to be in his company for another day or two, it would be easier.
“I’m sorry, Drake. I think I’ve blabbed about myself far too much already.
He studied her in silence for a moment and then changed the subject.
“Can you cook?”
“Enough to get by if you don’t expect fancy.”
“How about making some breakfast while I take care of a couple of things outside? I should be back in about thirty minutes.”
“Sure, I don’t mind.” In truth, she was glad to have something to do. Sharing morning coffee in front of a fire with him was a little too intimate for her comfort level. He overloaded her nerves with jittery electricity that prickled along her skin.
Drake kicked the snow from his boots against the fence post as he discussed the day’s work schedule with his foreman and arranged for a couple of his crew to retrieve his truck from the ditch using one of the larger snowplows from the airport. After everyone left, he stared at the snow-covered vista and let his mind linger on his present dilemma.
If he’d stayed a little longer at his favorite watering hole last night, his truck wouldn’t be nose down in a ditch. But, he wouldn’t have a puzzling and attractive woman fixing his breakfast either, one with an angel’s smile and wounded eyes.
A strong urge to protect her knotted his shoulder muscles. Their cozy coffee and revealing chat had driven that desire deeper, touching the part of his soul that had been alone too long.
No woman in eight years had come close to breaching his defenses, not since his ex-wife cut out his heart and left him for dead. He knew deep in his gut that Breeann Dalton was nothing like his ex-wife, so why did he feel at greater risk?
To be continued…
From the beginning…
Lost — Part 1…
Final…