Page 41 of A Beach House Beginning

“Why are you so nervous, Jen? Did someone hurt you?”

His voice was gentle, like a cottonwood fluff floating on the breeze. He sounded concerned, not nosy or intrusive, as if he genuinely wanted to know so that he could figure out a way to help her.

“It’s a very long story,” she said.

He sat down on the bench there in the garden surrounded by rhododendron, iris, rosebushes. He gestured to the spot beside him, not demanding, only inviting her to share if she wanted to, offering a listening ear.

She wanted to tell him, suddenly.

She did not like to talk about what had happened to her two years earlier, especially nights like tonight when the fear and emotional distress seemed so raw and close.

Yet somehow, she wanted to tell Wes.

After a moment, she lowered herself to the bench beside him, strangely aware of the hard slats of the bench beneath her, the sweetly scented night breeze, the soft knit fabric of her sweater.

“I told you a little about my husband and how he died.”

“Yes. I’m sorry again for that.”

“I loved Ryan dearly. Together we created the family that neither of us had before. He was a kind man. Not perfect, but perfect for me, if that makes sense.”

She glanced at Wes in time to see a muscle twitch in his jaw. “He sounds great,” he said.

“He was. I was devastated by his death. So was Addie. I didn’t expect to ever date again. But a year after he died, friends pushed me to try online dating. I didn’t think I was ready for anything serious, but they persuaded me that I didn’t have to marry a man just because I went out on a date with him. It would be good practice, they told me, and would help me figure out what I might be looking for if I ever wanted to let someone else into my heart.”

She picked at the cuff of her sweater, unable to meet his gaze. “I didn’t want to date anyone. At the same time, I was beginning to feel terribly lonely. I taught all day and then was alone with Addie all evening. I missed adult conversation, especially because Ryan had been sick for so long and hadn’t really been a partner for that last year. I thought maybe dating again would distract me from how much I still missed my husband.”

“I’m going to assume something went south,” he said, his voice low.

She sighed. “You could say that.”

She leaned back on the bench, finding an odd sort of strength from Wes’s company. How strange, that this dangerous man could make her feel so very safe.

“I met a few guys who seemed nice enough. We went out for coffee or a meal, but things never progressed beyond that. I figured that was enough, then I made one more match on my profile. A man from a nearby town. Aaron Barker.”

She couldn’t seem to say the name without her whole body tensing. Did Wes notice?

“Aaron seemed very nice on the surface. He was charming and kind. We went for coffee and had a lovely conversation. For the first time, I was tempted to go on a second date with someone. We went to lunch one afternoon. It was pleasant. Enjoyable, even. We talked on the phone a few times and met a few nights later, for dinner this time. After dinner, he walked me to my car and...kissed me.”

At this rate, she was going to unravel her sweater, so she forced her fretting fingers to relax.

“It was too soon for me. I got into my car and drove away. Before I could make it home, I had to pull over and be sick.”

“Not a good reaction for a first kiss.”

She remembered, suddenly, how she had reacted after Wes had kissed her. She had certainly not been sick. She had been achy and hungry and wanted more.

“He called me that night to check that I made it home safely and I...tried to break things off. I explained that I wasn’t ready to date yet, that it had been a mistake for me to create a profile on the dating website and that I should not have let my friends push me into it. I tried to be as kind as possible and assure Aaron that he had done nothing wrong. I told him I liked him but that it wouldn’t be fair to date him when my own emotions were still so tangled up with my late husband.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.”

She shook her head. “He refused to listen to anything I said. It was almost as if he didn’t hear me. He kept talking about how we clicked and he knew for sure that I felt it as well. I tried to let him down as gently as possible, but he would not listen. Not that night and not the next night when he called me again. He started to became...forceful.”

He grew rigid beside her. “Oh, Jenna.”

“Not that. He didn’t...sexually assault me or anything. He just refused to accept that I didn’t want a relationship with him. He would write me love notes, send flowers to me at work, text me endlessly at any time of the day or night. I finally blocked his number, but he would get another number and start all over again. I changed my phone number and my email, but he always seemed to figure out how to connect with me.”

“Did you talk to the police?”

---