They reviewed their immediate-action items. Madeline would look into sourcing the beans and locating a roasting company that took on contract work at a reasonable price until they could purchase their own roaster. Joyce would pursue negotiations over the location. If she couldn’t talk the man down on the space Harper and Bennett looked at the day before, she would find suitable places in their price range and send Harper the specifics. And finally, Allison volunteered to handle the charity portion of the plan.
Harper waved the two women off from the front porch. Madeline possessed a bouncy optimism Harper lacked. She was a natural people person who would be perfect spearheading the supply chain. And Joyce was a hard-nosed negotiator who would do well dealing with vendors. The weight of responsibility and the suffocating feeling of being overwhelmed had lessened. She wasn’t alone.
She rejoined Allison in the kitchen, sitting across from her and sipping at her lukewarm coffee. “Madeline and Joyce are fabulous.”
“I know.” Allison’s laughter faded into pensiveness. “Joyce has been depressed since her nest emptied last fall. She stopped coming to our meetings. Today was the first time I’ve seen her smile in months.”
“I don’t want to let them down.” Harper’s worst fears bubbled up.
“You haven’t been happy in Nags Head for a couple of years now. Your talents are wasted keeping books for other businesses. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I lose all the money that was going to go toward Ben’s college.” Was she being foolish? Harper rubbed her hands over her face and through her hair, her mom’s accusations reeling through her mind. She’d been safe and content. But not happy. Not for a long time.
“Except you were going to give the money back to Bennett, anyway.”
“True.”
“If the café fails, then you keep on living with your mom and working. But if it succeeds, you’ll be giving these women something to get up for in the morning. Something that’s theirs and not their husband’s or the military’s. And you might make enough to pay for Ben’s college along the way.”
Allison was a wise mama bear to all the women who crossed her path. Harper put aside her own worries—they could wait—and concentrated on Allison. Someone needed to mama bear her. “Are you sure you want to take on a chunk of responsibility with everything going on?”
“I need this, too, Harper.” Allison kept her gaze on the coffee in her mug.
“Do you think Bennett has done any good for Darren?” Harper asked softly.
“He got out of bed this morning to go shooting with him. That’s an improvement.”
Harper tiptoed around the minefield. “Do you worry about Darren doing something … rash?”
“I worry about Darren every second of the day.” Her voice fell to a whisper.
The word “suicide” reverberated around them even though it remained unsaid. “If you’re that concerned, you’ve got to force him in some kind of program.”
“How? Put him on a psychiatric hold at the hospital? He’d never forgive me. Anyway, most of the time I don’t worry he’ll actually hurt himself.”
“But sometimes you do.”
“At night when I can’t sleep, my mind goes round and round, imagining the worst.”
Harper had experienced a similar spiral of anxiety after word had reached her of Noah’s death. It had robbed her of sleep, happiness, and nearly her sanity.
“Can you talk him into going out for a weekend with Bennett?”
“I’m going to try, but it’s like he doesn’t have the energy to keep himself together that long. After you and Bennett leave, he’ll crawl into bed and not come out until morning when he has to show up at work.”
“How can his commanding officer not see what’s going on?”
“Maybe he does. Or maybe Darren has learned to hide it at work.” Her voice choked off. “I’m terrified he’ll be handed another deployment. What would happen?”
Nothing good, that was for certain. “If that happens, you’ll have to talk to someone.”
“It might ruin his career.”
Harper didn’t know how much sympathy would be afforded Darren. Things were changing, but the SEALs were known for being the baddest of the badasses. Either weakness was trained out of them or they quit.
“The alternative is not an option.” Harper wished she had something more useful to give Allison besides advice and platitudes.
The front door opened and chesty, male laughter drifted into the kitchen. Allison’s gasp and fleeting smile spoke of hope.
Bennett’s shadow filled the doorway before he appeared, tall and broad and more attractive than he had any right to be. Harper’s complicated feelings toward him defied easy labels and refused to be compartmentalized. What was clear from her eavesdropping the night before was the Noah-sized gash in her heart refused to let her move forward until it was healed. She suspected the truth would be a good start.
Darren leaned down to kiss Allison’s cheek, and she groped for his hand. This time, he didn’t pull away from her touch but pulled up a chair and draped his arm over the back of hers. She tilted toward him, her attention fixed on his face. He appeared almost carefree and his mood highlighted the stark difference in him from the night before.
“Did you boys hit the bull’s-eye every time?” Harper asked lightly.
Bennett poured himself a mug of coffee and took the empty chair. His knee bumped hers. “Darren schooled me. I’m rusty.”
“Griz was the best shot on the team. Beating him has been my life’s ambition.” Darren’s grin cast Harper back to all the cookouts and dinners she and Noah had shared with him and Allison. Some of Allison’s hope infected Harper.
“If you were that good, you should start including firearm training in your survival packages.” Harper slid her gaze to Bennett.
“Nah. Survival pits man against nature and a gun unbalances the equation.” He took a sip of coffee, the pause lengthening and gathering weight. “Anyway, I got my fill of shooting things in the service.”
Bennett’s words were like poison-tipped arrows. Harper fought the urge to draw him closer. Secrets hid behind the admission, too. Secrets that he held close and refused to share.
Allison and Darren seemed immune to the change in mood. Or maybe Harper had become finely attuned to Bennett.
The kids wandered into the kitchen in a video game–induced hunger. Sophie climbed into Darren’s lap, and he tweaked her nose, inducing giggles. As Allison put sandwiches together for the kids and Darren and Bennett caught up with military people she didn’t know, Harper studied the kids.
Libby watched her father out of the corner of her eye, a half smile containing a hint of happiness wrapped in suspicion. Ryan roamed the periphery like a stray dog desperate for a pet but wary after getting kicked too many times. Sophie played with her father’s hand. The difference in size and his gentleness settled a hard knot in Harper’s chest. Darren was a good man going through hell, but at least he had made it home alive.
Sometimes Noah’s memory only wisped on the edges of her day-to-day life, too ephemeral to perceive. But sometimes, usually unexpectedly, his memory punched so hard she lost her breath. The voices around her crescendoed in a buzz of white noise. No one seemed to notice her disquiet.
Except someone did notice.
Bennett’s hand covered hers under the table, linking their fingers. She should shake him off. Instead, she borrowed on his strength and recovered her composure piece by piece. Relying on a man who might not stick around was dangerous and foolhardy, yet she found herself tightening her grip on him.
She ignored the question in his eyes and pushed up from the table, disentangling them. “We need to get on the road. Ben will be anxious.”
They packed up their overnight bags and loaded into Bennett’s truck. After giving hugs all around, they set off toward Nags Head. The feeling they were leaving Allison and Darren in a better state than when they’d arrived helped quiet her worries.
Others took their place. Worries about Bennett and the past and future.
* * *