Deep River Promise, Jackie Ashenden [large ebook reader .TXT] 📗

man just needed to go somewhere else for a time to clear his head, so perhaps that’s what Zeke was doing right now.

“He’ll turn up,” he said, partly for Silas’s benefit and partly for his own. “He always does.”

“True. But no harm in seeing what I can dig up about where he might have gotten to.” Silas abruptly spun his chair around to face the computer. “I don’t like the idea of him being in some sort of trouble and not having any help.”

Damon pushed himself off the edge of the desk. “Yeah, I agree. Let me know if there’s anything you need.” He glanced down at a folder that was sitting on the edge of the desk, helpfully labeled Deep River Potential Tourism Ideas. “Can I take this?” he asked. If he was going to offer advice, he’d better have a look at what was being suggested.

“Sure,” Silas said absently. “Oh, and, Damon? I wouldn’t mention Zeke to anyone. At least not until he turns up. The town is already unsettled enough with this oil crap. They don’t need to know that one of the new owners has disappeared.”

The new owners…of which he was one.

Damon took a breath, thinking about Connor and the responsibility the kid was carrying around on his shoulders. Bad enough for an adult man, let alone for a fifteen-year-old. And now he was skipping school… Yeah, he didn’t like that. Not good for the kid and it was worrying his mom too. The mayor didn’t need that on top of everything else she was managing, which from the sound of it was quite a bit…

He needed a plan to help, that was clear. He wasn’t going to be here long, but hopefully it would be enough time to make good on his promise to Cal and help his son.

“No problem,” he said to Silas as he turned to leave. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them Zeke’s on a spiritual quest or something.”

But as he left, it wasn’t Zeke that he was thinking about.

And it wasn’t Connor either.

It was Astrid James’s cool gray eyes.

* * *

Sweat ran into Astrid’s eyes as she put her hands down on her yoga mat and straightened her legs into downward dog.

“Breathe,” Gwen said softly. “Concentrate on where your energy is going.”

The community center hot yoga class was halfway through, the little stove in one corner of the large open space throwing out a tremendous amount of heat.

It wasn’t a large crowd, but enough people turned up every morning to make it worth Gwen’s while. Every class she attended made Astrid proud. Everyone had been resistant when she’d first initiated the classes, but Gwen’s positivity, plus the offer of free coffee and a donut from April’s for every attendee, soon helped things along.

Of course, the coffee and donut didn’t really go with the whole yoga vibe—Gwen’s words—but Astrid wasn’t going to be picky. If it got people off their butts and doing some exercise, getting joints mobile and muscles stretched, then it was all good.

She enjoyed the classes herself, leading by example. There was something meditative about them, which was helpful, especially when she had too many other things on her mind.

Things such as a very handsome, exceedingly charming man, whose warm blue eyes and slow, sexy smile seemed hell-bent on disturbing her peace of mind.

“Hold,” Gwen said, and began to count.

The muscles in Astrid’s legs burned and began to shake, but she didn’t move, testing herself. Trying not to think of the tension in her own house the day before.

She’d dashed home at lunchtime to see if Connor had come home, but he hadn’t. Not for the first time, she’d wished the cell phone reception was more reliable so she could text him or maybe even track him, but he never responded to her texts anyway.

He’d returned later that day and refused to talk to her about anything, merely taking one look at her stricken face before saying, “I don’t want to talk about it, Mom.”

She’d known that stubborn cast to his chin, recognized it well; he wouldn’t be pushed. So all she’d said was, “At least tell me you’re okay.”

He’d sighed and nodded his head. “Yeah. I’m okay.” But there had been a guarded look in his bright blue eyes. As if he didn’t quite trust her anymore.

That had hurt. But then she supposed she deserved it.

“Damon is staying in town for a few more days,” she’d told him, not sure what else to say.

Something had shifted in her son’s gaze and maybe for the first time in her life, she hadn’t been able to read it. Hadn’t been able to tell what was going on in his head at all. Which had scared her. She’d wanted to ask at least a dozen more questions, but he’d only muttered, “Thanks,” before shuffling off to his bedroom and closing the door very firmly.

“And come down into child’s pose,” Gwen said, dragging Astrid back into the present. “Breathe deep.”

Her muscles screamed with relief as she came down onto her knees, leaning forward so her forehead was pressed to her mat. Her T-shirt was sticking to her skin, the hot, humid atmosphere in the room embracing her like a warm, sweaty hug.

“And that’s the end of the class,” Gwen murmured. “Thank you all for coming. Namaste.”

People shifted slowly, coming to their feet and picking up their mats, the sound of conversation rising.

Astrid did the same, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Debbie Long, whose husband Carl worked on the trawlers, was preparing to come over, no doubt to talk to her yet again about Carl’s unique collection of beer coasters and did Astrid think that could be something tourists might like.

Gwen, too, was casting hopeful glances her way as Clare Owen, who ran the local B&B, engaged her in conversation.

Since a casual conversation with Clare usually lasted a good half hour—the woman couldn’t be direct if her life depended on it—and it didn’t look like she was going to