Starting Over in Maple Bay by Brittney Joy

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

 

 

When Jesse saw Hazel in her flowy flowered skirt and white tank, he knew he shouldn’t have invited her for pizza and a movie. It was one thing to invite Grace and the boys to join him and Charlie for a movie night, but inviting Hazel felt way too close to a date. And Jesse hadn’t been on a date in a long time—since he lost Sarah, Charlie’s mom. He’d meant to be friendly. To offer an olive branch. Jesse blamed his impulsive invitation on the pie. His sweet tooth had a way of luring him to temptations that weren’t always good for him. And Hazel had a sweetness hidden below her coat of armor. He’d seen it, even if it wasn’t always aimed at him.

Now, as Jesse and Hazel walked along main street—a row of familiar businesses on his right and the blue waters of Maple Leaf Lake on his left—he knew he’d gotten himself in a pickle.

“Mom, look at all that fudge!” Grace stopped and pointed at the big front window of Kandi’s Candy. Grace was holding Charlie’s hand and had been since they parked Jesse’s truck and started walking on the sidewalk. Charlie beamed up at Grace the same way that Grace was looking at the fudge.

Hazel joined the girls at the window. “Oh, my goodness.” She lengthened out each word like it was its own sentence.

Inside the shop, Kandi waved from behind the counter. Jesse waved back.

“Fudge is good with pizza,” Jesse said, and opened the door. Grace and Charlie scooted through and ran to the glass countertop to ogle the many different flavors of fudge. “Don’t you agree?” He held the door open for Hazel.

She cracked a smile. “Actually, yes. I don’t think there’s a single thing that fudge doesn’t compliment.”

They entered and joined the girls at the counter.

“Jesse Weston.” Kandi greeted him with joyful energy that matched her signature pink and white striped apron. Her long white hair was twisted into a bun. Kandi had owned the candy shop since Jesse was little, and she’d always reminded him of Mrs. Claus. “Did you bring the newcomers in for some of my fudge?”

“Sure did,” Jesse replied. “On our way to pick up a movie and pizza, but just couldn’t walk by the best fudge in the world.”

“You’d better not.” Kandi shook her finger, but was eating up his compliment.

It really was the best fudge he’d ever tasted.

“Have you met my neighbor, Hazel March, and her daughter, Grace?” Jesse asked.

“No, but the pleasure is all mine.” Kandi reached over the counter and shook Hazel’s hand and then Grace’s. “Welcome to Maple Bay.”

“Thank you,” Hazel replied with a smile.

“And I’m so sorry about your mother. Rose was a pillar of the community, and we all miss her. Please accept my condolences.” Kandi was completely sincere with her sympathy, but the smile wiped from Hazel’s face. She looked shell-shocked.

Jesse wasn’t sure how Hazel felt about Rose, but he’d never heard Rose mentioned a second daughter. His gut told him that even though Rose was Hazel’s biological mother, Hazel didn’t think of Rose as her mom.

“That’s very kind of you, Kandi,” Jesse replied. Hazel pushed a tight smile onto her face.

Jesse redirected the conversation. “What are your specials this week? I think we’ll need a variety pack to take with us.”

Kandi rattled off her weekly fudge specials, recommending the Key Lime Pie, Malt Ball Swirl, and Lemon Berry. As Kandi continued listing flavors, Hazel relaxed more and more until she put both hands on Grace’s shoulders.

“Why don’t we each pick out a flavor? Then we can share,” Hazel said, and both girls quickly agreed. “What would you girls like?”

“Root Beer, please.” Charlie looked back at Jesse and he gave her a grin. He knew she’d pick that. Jesse and Charlie often stopped by Kandi’s on the weekend, and Root Beer was her most recent favorite flavor.

Grace pointed through the glass to a cream and red swirled fudge. “Can I do the Cherry Vanilla?”

“Good choices,” Kandi said.

Jesse looked at Hazel.

“It’s a tough decision. They all look so good.” Hazel paused. “I think I’ll take the Key Lime, please. No, wait. I’ll take the Malt Ball.” Hazel was now on her tip toes, peering over Grace’s shoulder at the array of sweets.

“She’ll take both of them,” Jesse said, and Hazel looked at him like he’d just offered her dinner at a five-star restaurant. “And I’ll take your Salted Caramel, please.” 

Kandi filled up a little brown box and slipped it into a pink and white striped bag. “Here you go, sweets.” She gave the bag to Grace to carry.

Hazel reached for her purse, but Jesse put his hand on her arm.

“It’s my treat.” He handed over his card to Kandi before Hazel could protest. If there was one thing Jesse had learned about Hazel, it was that she didn’t accept gifts well. So, he was quick with his card. “Charlie and I invited you and Grace out tonight. Pizza, dessert, and the movie are on us.”

Hazel looked like she might object, but then thought better of it. “Thank you,” she said as she slipped her arms around Grace’s shoulders and gave her a hug. Grace smiled and leaned into the embrace.

“Come back soon,” Kandi called, and they waved before headed down the block to the movie store.

When they arrived at their next stop, Hazel stopped cold in her tracks. She stared at the neon yellow sign glowing in the window. The scrolled neon words spelled out the shop’s name—Movies on Main.

“You have a movie store? Like a real movie store?” Hazel’s mouth was open. “I didn’t think these existed anymore. I thought we were going to stop by a Redbox or something.”

Jesse laughed. “No Redbox. I guess we’re kind of old school here.”

“Retro.” Hazel’s green eyes did this sparkly thing that reminded Jesse of the summer sun glinting on the lake. “My parents used to take me to Blockbuster. I always loved roaming the aisles, picking out a movie together. It’s so much more fun than picking a movie from a computer screen.”

“I agree,” Jesse said, and they entered the store.

Jesse followed the girls and Hazel as they zigzagged through racks of DVDs. Hazel spent most of the time bent down or balanced on her knees, helping the girls sort through movie options. All three of them chatted and laughed. Jesse had a good time just watching them. Right from his first introduction to Hazel, she’d looked at Jesse like she might slap him if he treaded too close. But now, as he watched her with Charlie and Grace, Hazel’s kind, jovial heart was so visible that he didn’t know how she could hide it.

Charlie skipped toward Jesse, a DVD in her hands. “We picked Black Beauty!”

“Oh, boy. I think you’ve seen that like a hundred times,” Jesse said. Maybe a thousand.

“But Grace never seen,” Charlie replied.

“I haven’t either.” Hazel walked up behind Charlie. “Charlie said it’s her favorite movie. She said we’ll love the part at the end where Black Beauty finds a happy home.”

Jesse chuckled and shook his head at Charlie. “You told them what happens at the end?”

Charlie wrinkled her nose, like the happy ending was the obvious selling point to the movie.

“All right. Black Beauty it is then,” Jesse said, and escorted the girls to the counter to checkout.

 

A few hours later, the pizza box lay open on Jesse’s coffee table. There was only one slice left, and the last scene of the movie played. Grace was curled up in the recliner. Charlie was splayed across her beanbag. Both girls had fallen asleep about a half-hour ago, just as the summer sun had slipped away. Jesse and Hazel were sitting on the couch—on opposite ends—and Jesse caught himself glancing Hazel’s way, again. He couldn’t help it. He’d seen the movie so many times he could practically recite it, but Hazel had quickly been drawn into the story, watching it like a character might die if she took her eyes off the screen.

She leaned against the armrest, her legs tucked up against her. Her flowery skirt covered all but her bare feet. In the dark room, the television illuminated her face and a tear slipped over her cheek and freckles. She wiped it away, but never took her eyes off the movie.

Jesse leaned over and grabbed a tissue from the side table. “Here,” he said, and reached across the couch.

“You didn’t tell me this was going to be sad.” She took the tissue and gave him a grin.

“It has sad parts.” He watched her dab her eyes.

“That poor horse. He had to go through such terrible things.”

Jesse thought about the movie. It was hard to watch any animal suffer. Worse yet, he’d witnessed the aftereffects of animal abuse in real life, and could never understand how a person could intentionally hurt any of God’s creatures. It was why he did what he did—worked with horses that had endured a rough path. He felt a calling to teach them how to trust again. “But he got his happily ever after.”

Hazel crumbled the tissue into her hand. “You must think I’m a complete mess, crying at a children’s movie.”

“Not at all.” He would’ve been worried if the movie hadn’t touched her, but seeing her tears told Jesse how tender Hazel’s heart was. “Next time we’ll pick a funny one.”

He meant it. He wanted a next time. He wanted to get to know this woman.

In the dark, with only the movie credits lighting the room, Jesse thought he saw intrigue claim Hazel’s face. But it rushed off quickly. She tightened the tissue in her hand and glanced away, at Grace.

“I better get her home.” She paused, and then clarified, “Back to Frankie’s.”

What was Hazel’s story? What had happened in her life to make her instinct to retreat so strong? Jesse wanted to know, but didn’t press. He could see she was on the verge of back peddling to the door.  “I’ll walk you back.”

“You don’t have to do that. Charlie’s sleeping.”

Jesse stood and grabbed an afghan from the back of the couch. He draped it over Charlie, scooped her up, and wrapped her like a burrito. When her head was on his shoulder, he said, “Nothing wakes this kid. I’ll carry her and walk you and Grace to Frankie’s. I won’t have it any other way.”

He certainly wouldn’t let them walk through the night alone, even if they were in the safety of Maple Bay. He’d never forgive himself if something happened.

Hazel succumbed and woke Grace by gently rubbing her arm. “Come on, sweetie. It’s time to go to bed.”

Grace picked up her head and blinked her eyes. “Is the movie over?”

“Yes, and it’s late. It’s time to go back to Frankie’s.”

“You can come over and watch the end tomorrow,” Jesse offered to Grace. “I know Charlie would love that. Actually, she’d probably watch the whole movie with you again.”

Grace nodded, sleepily. “Okay.” She rose from the recliner.

Owls hooted as they walked past the carriage house and followed the road to Frankie’s. Amidst the yellow moon and shadowed trees, Hazel draped her arm around Grace’s shoulders and planted a kiss on her head, but no one spoke until they reached Frankie’s front porch.

“Thank you for tonight,” Hazel said, and Jesse wondered what thoughts sat behind her gratitude. He couldn’t read her. All evening her body language had waffled between warm and distant. He found himself drawn to her warmth. He wanted to understand her distance.

“Of course.” He wanted to see her again, for more than a passing conversation or to wave from their respective houses. He opened his mouth to ask her if they could do this again, but Hazel stopped him. She stepped forward and reached for the blanket that Charlie was wrapped in. The afghan had crept down, exposing her head.

“Don’t want her getting cold.” Hazel tucked the knitted blanket around Charlie. As she did, the soft edge brushed Jesse’s neck. His heart thumped. She gave him one last look and held it like she had something to say. Then she hooked her arm around Grace and led her to the front door.

“Good night, Jesse,” Grace called. Hazel gave Jesse a soft smile.

“Good night,” he replied.

After Hazel closed the door, Jesse headed back toward the lake and his house. As he walked, Charlie wrapped her little fingers in his collar. She gripped his shirt and snuggled her cheek into his neck. Jesse’s stomach clenched and a mix of emotions washed through him. Hazel was in Maple Bay for the summer. That was it. Once she honored the clause in Rose’s will, he was sure she’d sell the carriage house and move back to the city. And he couldn’t allow Charlie to get attached to someone that would leave. He didn’t need that heartbreak again—for Charlie, or for himself.