Stars Fall From the Sky (Reigning Hearts Book 2) Page 7

  Sheepishly, she pulled a newspaper clipping from The Sandersville Crier out of her apron pocket and slid it across the table toward him. The chief’s eyes crinkled with a grin.

  “Well, lookie there. You have, haven’t you?”

  Biting her thumbnail, Ginger watched as the chief pulled reading glasses from his t-shirt pocket and scanned the copy. He nodded several times before he swiped the glasses off and leaned his elbow on the table. “I know this property. It’s Warner’s old place. It was a jewelry store until Hank Warner and his wife retired and moved back to Grayson, Georgia to be closer to their son and grandkids. It’s been vacant for a while, right in the heart of downtown on Main Street. Close to all the artsy galleries too. It’d make a fine location for a bakery. This looks good, Ginger. Real good—”

  “You think so?” she interrupted. “It’s just a thought. I don’t know. There’s even a two-bedroom apartment upstairs. I wouldn’t have to commute, and I could put Daisy down for her naps.” She chatted excitedly about the possibility of something new. It had been months since she had been this excited. With the small payout she received from Rusty’s life insurance and his pension payments she collected monthly, the entire idea wasn’t that far-fetched. Her daddy had even offered to help financially to get her business off the ground if it was something she was serious about. If she could find the right place, she knew she could do it.

  Chief Rutland chuckled as if humored by her enthusiasm. “It’s so good to see some color back in your cheeks, darlin’. We’ve all been worried sick about you.”

  Ginger’s smile faded when she realized her thoughts on losing Rusty had been put on the back burner for the past half hour. Knitting her brow, she averted his eyes, not sure what to make of the realization—not sure if she could genuinely manage a change of this significance on her own without Rusty by her side.

  Chief Rutland covered her hand with his and squeezed. “Honey, it’s okay to have a life. It’s okay to move on. And you know Rusty will be lookin’ down prouder than a peacock at a fashion show.”

  Looking up at his smiling face, she offered a small nod, aware that her cheeks felt hot. Rusty had always been proud of her and the small baking business she created out of their kitchen. He was her number one fan, and the thought of him not being there to cheer her on in this next endeavor was daunting. Not able to come up with an audible response, she squeezed back.

  “I think this is a great idea. The station team and I can help you move in and get things exactly how you want. You just say the word, darlin’.”

  Ginger swallowed hard when she thought about the hard-working firefighters and Ocean Rescue team. A couple of the guys still made it over to her house once a week to mow the yard and blow off the driveway, their strong composition and matching fire station t-shirts always throwing her off guard thinking Rusty was among them. He always said they were a family—that you could never care too greatly about your people. That his people cared about her made a huge difference in how far she had come since his untimely death.

  As if sensing her hesitation, Chief Rutland tilted his head to catch her eye. “You’ll always be one of us, Ginger. We’re family—and family helps out family.”

  The baby monitor sitting on the kitchen counter suddenly came alive with Daisy’s little mewling. The chief popped up from his chair and gleefully rubbed his hands together, causing Ginger to laugh.

  “Right on time.” She rose from her seat. “Give me a minute while I get her freshened up.” As she started to turn, Chief Rutland reached for her wrist. Eyeing him with uncertainty, she watched as his expression turned softer.

  “It’s a great idea, honey. You can do this. You’re not alone.”

  ***

  Main Street was particularly bustling with folks out and about during the lunchtime hour. The salty air was still warm, but the sea breeze had lost its sweltering humidity that often lingered well past the summer months into the fall season. Local shops were already decorating with autumn themes including pumpkins and colorful mums in large planters, and Jonathon noticed a large banner strung across the street from the second floor of two brick buildings advertising the upcoming Fall Festival. The sleepy beach town was eclectic and alive with local flavor enjoying the sunny day.

  Jonathon ran his hand across his shorn neck, thankful to have finally had some time to get a quick haircut at the local barber during his lunch hour. As he came around the corner to his practice, he stopped in his tracks, stunned to see Ginger McCormick peering into the windows of the vacant space next to his office. She had one hand on a stroller, and the other held over her sunglasses to shield the glare from the sun as she looked in. Funny, he had just been thinking about how he was looking forward to seeing her at their Grief Care meeting later in the evening. That she was standing in front of his building was a surprise.

  “Hey, Ginger,” he offered politely in an effort not to startle her.

  Quickly, she turned her head and looked right at him. When she recognized him, her smile rivaled the sun overhead. “Oh! Hey there. How’s it goin’?” She seemed unusually energetic as she pulled away from the window.

  “Pretty good. How about you?”

  “Fine. I’m fine.” She held her finger up to her mouth, indicating a sleeping Daisy in the stroller.

  Nodding, he peered into the stroller and couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing Daisy lying on her back with her arms stretched above her blonde head. He tried to keep the conversation casual, hoping Ginger might open up to him. “What are you up to today?”

  “I’m just… window shopping. About to meet Emmy for a late lunch.” Her cheeks tinged crimson as she lifted her sunglasses back from her face, squinting in the brightness. “You got a haircut.”

  Jonathon nodded and ran his hand across the side of his head. “Yeah. It was long overdue.”

  “I like it. You look very professional, Doctor.”

  Her comment sent a tingle of pleasure through his chest, and he couldn’t help but stand up a little straighter. “Thanks.” They stood there, awkwardly on the sidewalk. “You know, that’s an empty space for lease. Not much window shopping there, I’m afraid.”

  Ginger giggled, avoiding his eyes. “I know. I was just curious…”

  They were interrupted by a tall woman wearing business attire and holding a manila folder in the crook of her arm. “Mr. and Mrs. McCormick?” she politely asked.

  Flustered, Ginger’s eyes grew wide, and she shook her head vehemently. “No, just Ginger McCormick.”

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Walden from next door.” He gestured toward his practice, trying to help Ginger out in the uncomfortable moment.

  “Oh, pardon me. I’m Grace Rier, a real estate agent. Nice to meet you, Ginger. How do you do, Doctor?” She held out her hand to shake his, eyeing him over the tops of her expensive sunglasses.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rier,” he replied, shaking her hand. He couldn’t help but notice her skin was ice cold as if she had just walked out of an air-conditioned car or office.

  “Please, it’s Miss Rier. I’m recently single.” The tone of her voice, paired with her flirty gaze made him take an unintentional step back.

  “So sorry, Miss Rier.”

  Ginger looked on with a nervous smile before turning toward him. “I’ll see you tonight at the meeting?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll see you tonight, Ginger.” Waiting for a beat, he smiled at both women before he turned and headed to his practice next door. When he was safely inside, he exhaled a slow breath. What was that all about? Why was Ginger checking out space directly next door to him? And dammit, why did she have to be so pretty? Perhaps he’d get some answers in a couple of hours. He couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Ten

  The familiar faces of the Grief Care group buzzed around the refreshment table as Jonathon walked in. Their leader, Francesca, greeted him with an ear-splitting grin.

  “Good evening, Jonathon. How are you tonight?”

  “I’m good. W
hat’s going on?”

  She flashed a glance toward the table before smiling up at him. “Mrs. McCormick brought everyone a special treat—homemade cookies! She’s quite the baker, you know. Go on over and get you some before the entire group gobbles them up.”

  “Oh, yes… great.” Looking across the room at Ginger smiling and chatting amidst the cluster of people, he caught her eye. When she smiled back at him, his knees turned to jelly. She wore a pale yellow sweater over a blue sundress, and her hair pulled in a ponytail, making her look very young. If it hadn’t been for her ample bosom, he would swear she was a young teenager from days gone by.

  “Hi,” she happily said as she approached him with a cookie on a napkin and held it out for him to take. “You said there might be better cookies this week, so I made sure there were. I hope you approve.”

  Taking the treat from her hands, he couldn’t help but stare into her deep brown eyes and took a bite of the cookie. The old-fashioned, cinnamon oatmeal flavor exploded on his tongue, making him raise his eyebrows in astonishment. “Wow,” he mumbled with his mouth full. “This is incredible.”

  Ginger blushed and bit her lower lip as if pleased by his reply. She muttered a polite “thank you” before Francesca interrupted the group indicating it was time to start their meeting. As they walked back to their seats, Jonathon leaned in. “Hey, what was up with that realtor earlier?” He watched her stifle a smile, looking like a little girl holding a secret.

  “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  Like the first night, they gathered in a circle, and Francesca asked upfront if anyone wanted to share. Jonathon couldn’t help it and glanced across the ring at Ginger, hoping she might shed some light on her life. Instead, she looked down at her lap and smoothed her skirt. Disappointed, Jonathon shifted in his seat, keeping his lips firmly pressed together. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready to share, although there was a part of him that wanted to tell Ginger. They had been friendly enough, and he liked it that they had run into each other more than a couple of times in the small town. It might even be a relief to talk to someone finally.

  When no one spoke up, Francesca moved on and did a recap of their workbook study from the previous week.

  “So remember, there’s no timeline for grief. This isn’t Gone with the Wind, and you’re not Scarlett O’Hara wearing black and acting somber and resolute because society made the rule you’re supposed to grieve for at least one year. Grief is not a task to complete and move on. It’s not something you check off a list. Grief is an element of yourself—an adjustment of your being. Through your grief, you will find new ways to look at the world.” Several nods and hums of understanding replied throughout the room.

  “In the next chapter in your workbook, the seven stages of grief are outlined for you. I’m sure most of you have already looked these up online trying to decipher them on your own. But you must remember what I said in last week’s meeting—you are not alone. You have a safe place to unpack this information with people who are going through the same thing as you. Now let’s take a look at a short video that briefly introduces these phases.”

  The lights dimmed, and the video started. Jonathon could hear sniffles coming from Charlie again as the video host’s professional voice touched on shock, pain, anger, and depression. When he moved on to “the upward turn” and the reconstruction phase which led to the seventh and final stage of acceptance and hope, Jonathon couldn’t help but wonder where everyone was in the process. Undoubtedly, he was stuck in stage four—depression. His whole world was nothing but a sad reflection of who he once was before Abbie died. When he finally realized the magnitude of his loss, he was thrown into a state of sadness. He had the classic symptoms of this phase—isolation. His actions were intentional as he closed himself off from others, constantly reflecting on things he did when his wife was alive. Moving from Atlanta to the tiny beach town to get away from his former life was a bold choice and one he mulled over for months. He needed to focus on his new life, even if it was a life alone.

  Living in a perpetual state of emptiness and despair had taken a toll on him, the hardest part wrestling with the notion that he might end up alone for the rest of his life. He was committed to Abbie, and he would always, always love her. His grief started way before she died, her terminal illness taking a long time to run its course. Before she passed, she made him promise to move on—to love again and to have the children she was never able to give him. Could he ever love again? The thought was overwhelming. For the moment, he just wanted to be allowed to feel happy.

  The mood in the room was heavy as the group took a break after the video. Jonathon stretched and made his way to the refreshment table where he made small talk with the school teacher, Sabrina. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ginger as she spoke quietly with their group leader from across the room. How he wished he could be a fly on the wall and hear what they were saying.

  The second half of the meeting was a bit more light-hearted. The group went around the circle and volunteered something they were grateful for. Charlie admitted he was thankful for their group, saying it was the highlight of his week. Cameron explained that she was proud of her siblings, who were diligent in checking up with one another every week since their mother died. Sabrina was thankful for her students, and Ginger praised her young daughter, who brought tons of joy into her daily routine.

  “And what about you, Jonathon? What are you grateful for?”

  Exhaling a deep breath, he looked around the room at the various faces. Ginger’s head was tilted as she looked back at him with a reassuring smile. “I’m thankful for the delicious cookies Mrs. McCormick brought for us tonight…”

  “Here, here!” Charlie interjected. The whole room erupted in thanks and polite applause, causing Ginger to blush and shake her head.

  Thankful for the diversion, Jonathon offered Ginger a genuine smile. The woman certainly knew how to bake, and her sunny disposition warmed his cold heart. It seemed that as of late, being around Ginger McCormick helped him to forget his pain, at least for a little bit.

  As the session ended, the group dispersed, and he watched Ginger gather the remaining cookies and put them into a plastic container.

  “Got any plans for those?” he teased.

  “No. You’re welcome to have them. Just bring the container back next week.”

  Eagerly, Jonathon nodded as he took the plastic from her, their fingers brushing in the process, sending a jolt of electricity through his hand. Their eyes locked for a millisecond before Ginger looked away. “So, what about that realtor today?” he pressed.

  “Oh. It was nothing.” They meandered out of the room behind the rest of the group.

  “No, it was definitely something. Come on, you can tell me. You promised.”

  When they reached the stone steps of the church outside, Ginger paused. “I’m thinking about opening a bakery in town.”

  Jonathon couldn’t help the shocked look on his face as his jaw dropped.

  “What? It’s stupid, right?” He watched her nervously fold her arms across her chest.

  “No. It’s fantastic. Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m looking into it. I have a lot of clients, including my friend Emeline who need certain baked goods for special events, and my small kitchen just isn’t cutting it anymore. Some of my friends and family think it’d be a good change after everything that’s happened.”

  “I’d love to have you as a neighbor.”

  Ginger looked up at him with unease written all over her face.

  “I mean… I could get cookies like this every day if I wanted, right?” He held up the container and kept walking right alongside her going in the opposite direction of his place, completely intrigued by her idea, and by her company.

  Ginger didn’t seem to mind, and they continued in silence past the vibrant yellow-painted walls of the Pineapple Grov
e galleries, the evening sky turning shades of pale peach and lavender. The twinkle lights wrapped around the tall palm trees had come on in the dusk, and a sudden squeal of laughter from an open-air restaurant gave Jonathon an idea. It was effortless being in her company, and for some reason, he didn’t want to say goodnight. There was certain electricity in the air, and he hoped he might have the chance to tell her about Abbie before he lost his nerve. Sooner than he could form the words to invite her to join him for a cup of coffee, Ginger beat him to the punch.

  “I have a babysitter for the next hour or so. You want to get a drink or a bite to eat? I’d like to…talk. Maybe ask your opinion about something?”

  Surprised, Jonathon didn’t hesitate in his response. “It would be my pleasure.”

  ***

  They were seated at a small table by a window at the local Brew Dog Pub. Ginger second-guessed whether this was a good idea or not, but she needed his help. He was the only person she knew who would understand. Finding her resolve, she boldly ordered the house merlot when the waiter approached their table, and Jonathon ordered a coffee.

  “You don’t drink?” she asked, suddenly feeling guilty for being at a bar with a man who wasn’t her husband and ordering alcohol. Of course, he didn’t drink—he was a doctor, after all. She wondered what he thought of her.

  “I do. But I have a long day tomorrow, and I don’t want to risk that fuzziness that always seems to hang over me when I imbibe.”

  “Imbibe?” A pleasant giggle escaped her lips. “You have a habit of using big words, Doctor. I like that about you. Maybe I should change my order?” She started to raise her hand, to which Jonathon grasped her wrist and gently pulled it down.

  “No, please. You probably don’t get out much taking care of your baby. Enjoy a glass of merlot tonight.”

  With the way he smiled back at her and the warmth from his hand penetrating her skin, she couldn’t refuse.