Page 4 of Love Takes A Tumble (Midlife Meet Cute #3)

Chapter Four

Harrison leaned against the porch railing, coffee mug warming his hands in the early morning chill. Four days past his planned departure date, and somehow he was still here, still finding reasons to linger at the Pelican Inn.

"Nice view, isn't it?"

He turned to find Jacob approaching with his own steaming mug, his knowing smile suggesting he wasn't just talking about the garden.

"Peaceful," Harrison agreed noncommittally.

Jacob leaned against the railing beside him. "So. You extended your stay again, I hear."

"Just a few more days." Harrison kept his tone casual. "Thinking about heading down to Charleston after."

"Mmhmm." Jacob took a sip of his coffee. "Nothing to do with our injured librarian up in the Magnolia Suite, I'm sure."

Heat crept up Harrison's neck. "I’m being neighborly."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Jacob's grin widened. "Funny how many things around here need fixing since she sprained her ankle."

"The door to her room was sticking," Harrison said, hearing the defensive note in his voice. "And that window latch was loose."

"And the bookshelf that needed leveling? The curtain rod that suddenly required tightening?"

Harrison stared into his coffee. "Keeping busy."

"Well, you've certainly been that." Jacob's tone softened. "She's good people, Harry. Reminds me a bit of Elise when she first arrived here. All plans and structure, trying to keep the world at arm's length."

Before Harrison could respond, Elise herself appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Are you two gossiping out here like a couple of old hens?"

"Just discussing our resident handyman's project list," Jacob replied, shooting Harrison a conspiratorial grin.

"Well, if you're looking for more work," Elise said, her eyes twinkling, "I'm sure Ms. Whitaker could use some help with her research. Something about lighthouse history?"

Harrison's heart gave a traitorous little leap. "Is that so?"

"Mmhmm. Though it seems to me we might need a handyman for more than just repairs around here." She exchanged a knowing look with Jacob. "Sometimes what really needs fixing isn't quite so obvious."

Harrison felt suddenly transparent, as if they could see right through him to the growing attachment he'd been trying to deny.

To the way he found himself looking for Audrey each morning, inventing reasons to check on her, simply to hear her voice, to see the flash of humor behind her initial reserve.

"I'm not—" he began, then stopped, unsure how to finish that sentence honestly.

"Not what?" Jacob prompted, his voice gentle now. "Not staying? Not interested? Not ready?"

Harrison sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know."

Elise patted his arm. "Well, when you figure it out, she takes her coffee with a splash of cream. No sugar." With that, she headed back inside, Jacob following after one last knowing smile in Harrison's direction.

The morning had settled into a comfortable rhythm, the kind that made Harrison both restless and content. He sat on the porch, watching a pair of cardinals dart between the oak trees that lined the drive. His coffee had gone lukewarm, but he made no move to refresh it.

"Mind if I join you?"

Harrison looked up to find Miss Doris standing at the porch steps, a tray balanced in her hands containing a coffee carafe and what looked suspiciously like her famous blueberry muffins.

"Be my guest," he said, rising to help her with the tray.

"I can manage," she insisted, but allowed him to take it anyway. "Always have to be the helper, don't you?"

Harrison set the tray on the small table between the rocking chairs. "Force of habit."

"Mmm." Miss Doris settled into one of the chairs, the wicker creaking softly beneath her. She poured fresh coffee into his mug without asking if he wanted any. "Habits can be comforting. They can also be traps."

Harrison took the seat beside her, accepting the refreshed cup with a nod of thanks. "Speaking from experience?"

"Six decades of baking taught me a thing or two." She passed him a muffin on a napkin. "About bread, and about people."

The muffin was still warm, the berries bursting with sweetness when he took a bite. For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the gentle creak of their rocking chairs and distant waves.

"So," Miss Doris said finally, "how much longer are you planning to stay on our little island?"

Harrison hesitated. "Not sure. I was supposed to leave days ago."

"And yet here you are."

"Here I am," he agreed.

Miss Doris rocked slowly, her knowing eyes fixed on the garden. "Wouldn't have anything to do with our Ms. Whitaker, would it?"

He nearly choked on his coffee. "I'm just being neighborly."

"Of course you are," Miss Doris agreed, in a tone that suggested she believed nothing of the sort. "Very neighborly to fix her window latch, straighten her bookshelf, deliver ice packs twice daily..." She smiled at his surprise. "Small inn. Word gets around."

Harrison focused on his coffee, unwilling to meet her gaze. "She needed help."

"Did she ask for it?"

The question caught him off guard. "Well, no, but—"

"That's your problem right there." Miss Doris's voice was gentle but firm. "You firefighter types, always rushing to the rescue. Sometimes what a person needs isn't rescuing. It's someone who sees them clearly enough to know when to step in and when to step back."

Harrison frowned. "Is there a point hiding in all this wisdom, Miss D?"

Her laugh was warm and genuine. "The point, dear boy, is that some things—and some people—don't need rescuing. They just need someone to stay." She patted his hand. "There's a difference between fixing a problem and being present for the person who has it."

The words settled over him like the morning sunlight, warm and revealing. Had he been treating Audrey like another problem to solve? Another emergency to manage?

"I don't know how to do that," he admitted quietly. "Be present without fixing. It's who I've always been."

"It's what you've always done," Miss Doris corrected. "Not the same thing."

Harrison sipped his coffee, letting the distinction sink in. What was left of him when the uniform was gone? When there were no more fires to fight, no more emergencies to manage?

"How long do you plan to wander, Harrison?" Miss Doris asked softly. "Charleston next, you said? Then where? Savannah? Jacksonville? Always moving, never putting down roots?"

"I had roots once," he said, thinking of his ex-wife, his distant daughter. "Didn't take."

"Perhaps you were planting in the wrong soil." She nodded toward the inn. "Some plants can't grow until they find exactly the right conditions. Right amount of sun. Right amount of shade." She smiled. "Right amount of stubborn independence with just a touch of vulnerability."

Harrison laughed despite himself. "You're not exactly subtle, Miss Doris."

"At my age, dear, I don't have time for subtle." She peered at him over her coffee cup. "You'll be leaving soon, I expect. Moving on to your next temporary stop?"

The question landed like a weight on his chest. He hadn't really thought about it, had been deliberately not thinking about it. But she was right. His extended stay couldn't last forever. Sooner or later, he'd have to move on, continue his aimless journey toward what? What was he looking for?

"I haven't decided," he said finally.

"Well, don't take too long." Miss Doris rose, gathering the empty mugs onto her tray. "Some opportunities only come once. Like that sunset cruise the island runs every Friday evening. Lovely way to see the lighthouse. Very romantic." She winked. "Probably sold out by now, though."

Before Harrison could respond to this transparent suggestion, the screen door opened.

He turned to see Audrey balancing on her crutches, her auburn hair loose around her shoulders instead of in its usual neat twist. The morning light caught the silver strands threading through it, turning them to quicksilver.

"Oh," she said, pausing at the sight of them. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Not at all, dear," Miss Doris said brightly. "Harrison and I were just finishing our coffee. In fact, I was about to head inside." She picked up her tray with a speed that belied her years. "You two enjoy this beautiful morning."

And with that, she was gone, leaving an amused Harrison and a slightly bewildered Audrey in her wake.

"Hurricane Doris," Harrison said with a smile. "Force of nature."

"So I've noticed." Audrey managed to maneuver herself to the chair Miss Doris had vacated, lowering herself with careful dignity. "She cornered me yesterday in the parlor. Very informative conversation."

Something about the way she said it made Harrison wonder exactly what information Miss Doris had shared. "She means well."

"I'm sure she does." Audrey adjusted her injured ankle on the footstool, wincing slightly. "Though her matchmaking is about as subtle as a foghorn."

Harrison chuckled, relieved by her directness. "Tell me about it."

Silence settled between them. The kind that didn't need filling.

Harrison found himself studying her profile, the graceful line of her neck, the way her fingertips absently traced patterns on the arm of her chair.

There was an elegant solidity to her, a presence that made him acutely aware of his own.

"I wanted to thank you," she said finally, her gaze fixed on the garden. "For all your help these past few days. The bookshelf, the window latch...all of it."

"Not a problem." He hesitated, then added, "I hope I haven't been imposing. Miss Doris pointed out I might have a bit of a hero complex."

Audrey's lips curved into a small smile. "Just a bit."

"If it's been too much—"

"It hasn't." Her eyes met his, startlingly direct. "It's been nice having someone around who notices what needs doing without being asked." A faint blush colored her cheeks. "Though I'm not used to it."

"No?"

She shook her head. "I've always been the one doing the noticing. Taking care of things. Of people." Her gaze drifted back to the garden. "It's strange being on the other side."

Harrison understood perfectly. The discomfort of needing, of accepting, when you've built your life around being the giver, the fixer. "Like trying to write with your non-dominant hand," he offered.

Her eyes widened slightly, surprise and recognition flickering across her features. "Exactly like that. Awkward. Unfamiliar." She tilted her head, studying him with new interest. "You understand."

It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway. "More than I'd like to admit."

Another silence, this one charged with something new. Recognition. Connection.

"Would you like some coffee?" he asked. "I could grab you a cup."

For a moment, he thought she might accept. Then she shook her head, but there was warmth in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "I should get back to my writing. But thank you."

As she gathered her crutches and prepared to stand, Harrison resisted the urge to immediately help her. Instead, he waited, watching as she found her balance with careful determination. Only when she was steady did he rise, holding the door for her.

"Harrison?" she said, pausing in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"I hear there's a sunset cruise tomorrow evening. Around the lighthouse." She didn't quite meet his eyes. "I was thinking of going. For research."

His heart gave a sudden, hopeful leap. "Research, huh?"

"For my book." Now she did look at him, a challenge in her green eyes. "Would you like to join me?"

Harrison couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "I'd be honored."

"Good." She nodded once, as if confirming a business arrangement, but he caught the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Seven o'clock at the marina, then."

"I'll be there."