Hi!
I write sweet, clean Christian romance novels that demonstrate the power of love and grace… and won’t make your grandmother blush ;)
I write sweet, clean Christian romance novels that demonstrate the power of love and grace… and won’t make your grandmother blush ;)
If you missed Chapter One, you can read it here!
Copyright @ 2022 Meghann Whistler
Chloe stared at the front door of the cottage on Frog Pond as it shut behind Steve, feeling shell-shocked. He’d been clumsy as a teen—tall and lanky with big hands and feet, and arms and legs that stretched like saltwater taffy—but he’d grown into himself since then.
Now he had broad shoulders and was lean without being skinny, muscled without having too much bulk. He’d been wearing pressed gray pants and a blue button-down shirt open at the neck, probably because he’d been coming from some sort of meeting at the bank.
With his blue eyes, strong jaw and short, golden-brown hair, the man was definitely easy on the eyes. And if Chloe hadn’t already known better, she’d have thought he was nice, too—the way he’d assured her that the formula mishap wasn’t her fault, the way he so obviously cared about Aiden and Mabel.
But nice guys didn’t kiss high school girls who were two years their junior and then fall off the face of the earth.
Good-looking isn’t the same as a good character. If her ex-boyfriend, Dan, had taught her anything, it was that physical attraction was worth about as much as a piece of penny candy. So, Chloe could take all those pitter-patters she’d been experiencing around Steve and lock them in the closet. She wasn’t going to act on her romantic feelings for him ever again.
Aiden gave a little peep and she lowered him from her shoulder. His clothes were still damp from the formula spill, and his skin was sticky. “We should get you cleaned up, shouldn’t we?” she said.
The baby made a funny sound and yawned, his little face scrunching as his mouth opened. With his big, cartoon-like eyes and his tiny pointed chin, he was just too adorable.
Steve had dropped them off at his waterside cottage on Frog Pond before heading to his clinic, and it was a surprisingly nice home. The kitchen and bathroom had clearly been updated—they both had granite counters and newly tiled floors. The family room was open to the kitchen, and it had a sliding-glass door that led out to a large back deck with a fantastic view of Frog Pond.
The pond itself was calm and smallish, hemmed in by a combination of pitch pine and oak trees that were mostly barren this time of year. Floating in the middle of the freshwater pond was an old wooden dock that the neighborhood kids swam out to and sunbathed on during the summer. Chloe herself had swum out there a few times over the years.
The vibe on Frog Pond was more insular and self-contained than it was elsewhere on Cape Cod, where the ocean stretched to infinity and the sky seemed boundless. Here, it felt cozier. Quieter.
Chloe liked the quiet. It sounded cheesy, but she felt closer to her parents in the quiet. Closer to God.
Although Steve didn’t have any Christmas decorations inside the house, there were several trees out back he’d bedecked with colorful lights, which made Chloe happy. Christmas had been a bit of a struggle for her since the car crash that had hurt her back and killed her parents, but she was determined to make this her best Christmas yet. After all, who knew where she’d end up getting a job after her student teaching internship was over? This might be her last-ever Christmas on Cape Cod.
Her best friend, Laura, and her fiancé, Jonathan, were hosting a big community potluck at The Sea Glass Inn following the Christmas pageant at church on Christmas Eve, and Chloe was helping them plan the whole thing. In fact, they were meeting for brunch tomorrow morning so they could discuss the menu and the musical entertainment. Chloe was in charge of picking the music for the caroling, and she could hardly wait.
Humming “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” she carried the baby into the bathroom and filled the little blue baby tub with lukewarm water before taking off Aiden’s dirty clothes. She put him in the tub, her left hand cradling his head, her right hand wielding a wet washcloth and wiping him down.
When she’d finished cleaning him up, she swaddled him in a thick, fluffy towel and took him into his nursery, which could have been ripped out of the pages of a parenting magazine, it was so well done. It had baby-blue walls and a fantastically detailed Noah’s Ark mural painted on the wall behind the crib. There were also books and toys, and an intricate animal mobile to keep him entertained while he lay in bed.
She wondered how much of this had been Steve’s doing, and how much of it had been his sister’s. It was a beautiful room.
She saw his sister’s bedroom, too, half packed into boxes. How sad for all of them, to lose her so suddenly, and so young.
In the nursery, she proceeded to diaper Aiden and get him dressed. She laughed in disbelief when she saw that his wardrobe consisted of twelve identical white onesies and twelve identical pairs of white footie pajamas. Steve was clearly one of those guys who didn’t care about clothing. Chloe would have to remedy the situation. Stat.
How cute would the baby look dressed up like a little Christmas elf?
She poked around to see if she could find a stroller or a baby carrier but came up empty. She’d have to remedy that, too. With the way her back had been acting up lately, she wouldn’t be able to carry Aiden on her shoulder for any extended period of time.
Herniated disks would do that to a person, even if they’d healed a lot since the crash.
She gave Aiden another bottle. He fell asleep at the end of his feed, and she was able to place him, sleeping, in the travel crib in the family room. While he slept, she poked around some more. Steve’s fridge was stocked with a few cans of Sprite, some milk and a half-empty carton of eggnog. The freezer held a handful of burritos, a pizza, and an unopened bag of corn. The counter was lined with dirty dishes.
Chloe microwaved herself a frozen burrito for dinner—Steve had asked her if she’d be willing to watch the baby while he stayed late at work—and then got started on the dishes.
Her brother might call her a people pleaser, but if she was going to work for this guy for even a few weeks, she might as well make herself useful.
***
Steve didn’t pull into his driveway until a little after eight o’clock at night. He’d been going over his books. Although his business loan was brand-new, thanks to the unexpected expenses associated with Eloise’s funeral and the fact that he’d had to cancel two weeks’ worth of client appointments, he was worried he was going to miss his first payment.
He’d been at the bank earlier to see if he could take out a personal loan on top of his business loan. The down payment on Family Physio had wiped out his savings, and he’d been forced to put Eloise’s funeral expenses on his credit card. He suspected there’d be costs associated with her hospital stay, too. He just wasn’t sure yet how expensive those charges would turn out to be.
He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. The clinic’s cash flow was good, and if things had gone smoothly, he would have been able to earn back his investment within three or four years. After that, the profits would have been gravy.
When he and Eloise had been sketching everything out, it had seemed like such a solid plan. She’d get to stay home with the baby, and he’d be able to give Aiden everything he and Eloise had lacked when they were growing up. Stability. Financial security. Fatherly love.
Given that he was never going to get married, it had seemed like the closest he’d ever get to having a family of his own.
But God had had other plans.
His sister was dead and the bank had turned him down for the personal loan. Which meant the interest he’d have to pay on his credit card if he couldn’t quickly pay down all his debt would be astronomical.
This really wasn’t good. And now he’d have to pay Chloe’s salary on top of all the other expenses. But what else could he do? If he couldn’t work, he couldn’t even dream of paying off what he owed.
At least he’d be able to reschedule all those canceled appointments now that he had a nanny in place for Aiden. That was a blessing, and he was definitely grateful.
He took a moment to do a deep breathing exercise to try to dispel some of the anxiety that was buzzing around his stomach. It helped a bit, but not that much.
Getting out of the car, he listened to the night sounds around him. The wind in the trees, the hoot of an owl, the pond’s anemic waves lapping the small shore. Some people thought it was odd to come to Cape Cod and choose to live next to a pond rather than the ocean, but Steve liked it. He found it soothing. And the Christmas lights he’d put in the trees made him smile.
He hadn’t been sure he’d have the heart to celebrate this year, but he wanted to make Aiden’s first Christmas special, even if the boy wouldn’t actually remember it. Focusing on his nephew, rather than the loss of his sister, made it easier to go on.
His were the only lights to be seen, since most of the people who owned houses around Frog Pond and its freshwater beach used them as summer homes only. His reclusive grandfather, who’d left this place to him and Eloise, had lived here full-time after his retirement, putting up with Steve’s visit the summer he was seventeen only because Steve had promised to be quiet and stay out of the old man’s way.
Since his granddad’s death five years earlier, the small, cedar-shingled cottage had sat vacant. Eloise had made noises about selling it a few times over the years, but Steve had been well aware that she’d take her share of the money and spend it on drugs and alcohol, so he’d always said no. After she went to rehab, it had seemed like the perfect place for her to focus on her recovery and raise the baby.
And because he hadn’t been able to protect her from what had happened with their parents, he’d wanted to be there for her as she started this new chapter in her life.
For all the good that had done.
But he wasn’t going to start feeling sorry for himself now.
Inside, Steve found Chloe asleep on the couch, Aiden snoozing in the travel crib nearby. Chloe was curled up with her head propped on the armrest, her mascara smudged, her hair mussed, spit-up on her sleeve. Oddly, seeing her like that, her features soft with sleep, made him feel calmer than he’d felt all day—maybe even since Eloise had died.
He felt an unfamiliar pang of longing in his chest. Coming to Cape Cod the summer he was seventeen had been a respite—a haven from the chaos at home. And Chloe? She’d been a huge part of making it feel that way.
What if…?
He squashed that thought before it had time to take hold. A guy wouldn’t get a second chance with a girl like Chloe. Especially not a guy like him.
He crouched next to the arm of the sofa and put his hand on her shoulder, the faux fur trim on her red sweater tickling his fingers. “Chloe,” he said in a low voice.
She snorted and sat up with a start. “I’m sorry. Did I fall asleep?”
She looked so alarmed it made him smile. “Just a little.” He tipped his head in Aiden’s direction. “How long has he been out?”
Squinting at the clock on his microwave, which was visible from the sofa, she said, “Forty-five minutes?”
“How’d everything go?”
“It was fine. I hope you don’t mind that I fell asleep.” She gave him a sheepish look. “Newborns are exhausting.”
He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. She was cute when she was embarrassed. “Tell me about it.”
She stood and picked up her purse. “So, I’ll see you Monday, I guess?”
He straightened and nodded. “Monday it is.” Then he rubbed the back of his neck. “And thanks again, Blondie. I appreciate your willingness to help us out.”
Waving off his gratitude, she said, “As long as you pay me for my time, Weston, it’s all good.” She moved toward the front door, slipped on her shoes, then stopped abruptly. “Oh, wait. My car—”
He snatched his keys out of his pocket. She’d walked to his great-aunt’s house for the interview, and he’d driven them all straight here. “Take mine.”
She gave him an odd look. “You want me to take your car? Overnight?”
He glanced at the travel crib. “I’d offer to drive you home but…” He spread his hands, his lips curving up once again. “You know what they say about sleeping babies.”
She still had that odd, vaguely incredulous look on her face. “I can call a cab.”
He held his keys out again, shaking them a little. “Take my car. It’s fine. You can bring it back in the morning.”
Her eyebrows pinched together. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“You got other plans?”
She looked at him for a long moment, then something inside her seemed to shift and give in. “I’m having brunch with friends, but I can stop by after.”
“Bring it back when you’re done, and then Aiden and I will drop you off at home.”
She gave him another long look, as though she couldn’t quite figure him out. “You’re a very trusting person.”
He shrugged. “Aunt Mabel clearly thinks you’re an upstanding citizen,” he said, because he and his great-aunt had had a few minutes to debrief before he’d brought Chloe to his house. “And anyway,” he added, trying to keep a straight face while he said it, “she told me where you live.”
Chloe’s eyes went wide. “She did?”
“You live above The Candy Shack with the seventy-year-old proprietor of the store as your roommate. How can you not lead with that in every conversation you have?”
She laughed, and a sense of warmth spread through him. He liked the sound of her laugh. It was like the trill of a flute, or tinkling bells.
“Seriously,” he said. “Every boyhood dream I had about living in a chocolate factory is springing to life right now.”
She laughed again. “I don’t live in the store, you know.”
“But it must smell great up there, doesn’t it? Where does Irene make the fudge? In your apartment? Or in the store?”
She kept laughing. “You’re as bad as Jonathan!”
“Jonathan?” he asked, the sense of warmth receding. He should have assumed she had a boyfriend. Maybe she was even married, although she wasn’t wearing a ring.
“Remember my friend, Laura, from church camp?”
He shook his head. He didn’t. The only girl he remembered from church camp that summer was her.
For weeks, he’d looked for excuses to stand next to her, to sit beside her, to hear her laugh. When she’d finally noticed him, he’d had to content himself with holding her hand when they were out in a group, because she’d been young—only fifteen—and her parents wouldn’t let her go out on a date with a boy alone.
And then he’d kissed her that last night, right before he went home to New Hampshire and all the terrible, awful things had happened with his dad.
“Jonathan’s her fiancé.”
“Got it,” he said, feeling relieved, although none of his reasons for failing to pursue a relationship with her—or anyone, aside from his one, short-lived attempt in college—had changed over the years. “Hey, what’s your brother up to these days?”
“Brett? He took over the family restaurant.”
“Oh, nice,” he said, with some surprise. “I thought he wanted to join the navy.”
“He did that, too. Just one tour, though.”
“Wow. Good for him.”
Aiden made a noise and Chloe held up Steve’s keys. “Well, I should get going.”
“Thanks again,” he said. “You’re a lifesaver. For real.”
She smirked and gave him a funny little bow with a hand flourish—she’d always been quirky like that—and then she was out the door.
