Page 86 of The Treasure House

“You sound like you knew what would happen tonight,” I teased him shakily.

“I knew what I hoped would happen,” he said as he got up to rescue the chicken.

I topped up the wine while he carved the chicken and set the table. The wind hissed down the chimney, sending the flames jumping, and the lightning marched toward us across the dark water. Then, as Jake set dinner on the table, a titanic crack sounded overhead, rattling the plates and the cutlery.

Hazel whined. She’d slept through the storm until now, but she was up like a shot, ears back and her tail between her legs.

“You’re okay,” Jake soothed her. But she came and cowered under his legs as we ate. The storm was building, throwing itself at the cliffs and the store. The thunder seemed to roll and crack from all directions as the rain whipped harder at the windows, pelting in sideways across the balcony. In the buttery glow of the streetlights, I could see the rain squall, caught and tossed by the winds.

Then came a deafening smack of thunder, and all the lights went out. The room shivered orange and gold with firelight.

“The power’s out,” Jake soothed a crying Hazel. “That’s all, girl.” He checked on me. “You okay?”

I nodded. “It’s kind of romantic,” I told him as I fetched the lone candle and moved it to the dining table.

“It would be if I didn’t have a wuss of a dog.” He laughed. Hazel seemed to be trying to climb him. He pulled her into his lap, and she burrowed her head under his armpit.

With Hazel taking center stage, we eased into a more relaxed mood, batting questions back and forth as we ate and the storm raged. Jake had Hazel on his lap, one arm securely around her as she whined and shivered.

“And you’re sure you aren’t keeping her?” I teased. Hazel looked up at him with pleading eyes, as though begging him to stop the storm. She licked at his neck and wriggled in his arms.

“I’m not ready,” he said gruffly.

“You look like you are.”

He pulled a face and changed the topic. “How did you get into the medical business?” he asked me.

I shrugged and also pulled a face. “I needed a job. I had Flo, and Tim wanted to go to grad school. He needed to keep his grades up, so I was the one who had to go work.”

“Flo said her dad didn’t live with you…” Jake looked uncomfortable at his own curiosity. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ve just been wondering.”

His discomfort was kind of adorable. “It’s fine,” I said, waving his apology away. “It’s all water under the bridge now. We lived together for the first ten months after Flo was born. But it didn’t work.”

“It didn’t work or he didn’t work?” Jake sounded bristly on my behalf.

“A bit of both,” I admitted. “But we were young, only twenty-one.” I watched him comfort his puppy and felt a pang, remembering the long, hard years when Flo was little. “He moved out and threw himself into campus life and I dropped out of my statistics and data science degree and worked in a medical call center, chasing people to pay their bills.”

“You dropped out? That must have been hard.”

I shrugged. “It was what it was. To be honest, continuing to try and study and work and look after a baby would have been harder. Impossible. And I don’t regret it—I’d do anything for Flo.”

“To a mother’s love,” Jake said, lifting his glass in a toast.

I swallowed, as thoughts of Tina swam to mind.

“She’s a lucky kid,” he added as we clinked glasses.

“She’s a good kid.”

“And now Mr. Campus Life is getting married,” Jake prodded. “And he lives in Seattle, which is what? Three thousand miles away?”

I nodded.

“Does it ever make you angry? That he got to finish his degree and have a whole life like he never even had a child?”

“Anger isn’t useful.” I shifted in my chair. Anger was never useful. “It’s best to just move on.”

“Seriously?” He fixed me with his disconcertingly straightforward stare. The candlelight cast shadows on his face and made his eyes shine. “But didn’t you have dreams? You must still have dreams?”