Читать книгу Coast Guard Sweetheart - Lisa Carter - Страница 13

Chapter Three

“What were you thinking, Honey?” her sister scolded. “Though that’s the problem, I expect. One look at Sawyer Kole and you stopped thinking. Just reacted.”

Honey fluffed the pillow behind Amelia’s head. “Yeah. I saw red.”

Amelia smirked. “Red like a Valentine heart.”

“Kole should be so lucky.”

Honey made an effort to wrest her mind from the recent unpleasantness. “Anyway, I’m thrilled you, Max and Braeden are Shoreside. It may not be Hawaii, but it’s good to finally have you home.”

Amelia patted a spot beside her on the bed. “The past two years have been incredible with Braeden assigned to the Pacific fleet.” She winked. “Great place for a honeymoon, too.”

Honey eased next to her sister. “Don’t go getting any ideas. Sawyer and I are so not happening. And don’t think the doctor putting you on bed rest this last month of your pregnancy is going to save you from the Wrath of Honey after what you, Braeden and Dad pulled. Y’all got him reassigned. Thanks a lot. Exactly what I didn’t need.”

“Just trying to achieve closure for you, baby sis. With Sawyer or not, time for you to move on toward everything God has for your future.” Amelia arched an eyebrow. “I remember you once laid that line on me when I dithered over whether to trust Braeden.”

Honey stood abruptly, moving to the window. A gentle sea breeze rustled the shade trees that studded the front lawn of the Duer Lodge. “I also told you Braeden’s the picture in the dictionary beside gentleman and trustworthy.”

She fingered the lacy curtain and peered down the length of the white picket fence lining the edge of the tidal creek property. “Trust me when I tell you, Sawyer Kole is neither of those qualities.”

Honey twisted the pearl on her earlobe. Mom’s pearl earrings. That and this house were her last links to the mother she’d lost when only a little older than Max.

“I know he hurt you, Honey. I’d never make light of the pain you’ve suffered, but perhaps he had his reasons, which seemed right to him at the time.”

Honey whirled. “Reasons? That’s what Sawyer said.” She clenched her fist. “What reason could there possibly be for torpedoing the future I was stupid enough to...?” She paced Amelia’s childhood bedroom. “That arrogant, no-good cowboy—”

Amelia ignored her and retrieved the sketchpad and pencil she’d left on the nightstand. “Before you go all judgmental, you might want to consider Sawyer might have wounds of his own you know nothing about.”

Honey halted. “You know something, don’t you?”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Amelia buried her head in her sketches.

“You know what made him break off the relationship... You’ve got to tell me.” Honey flopped on the bed. “Amelia, look at me.” She grabbed for Amelia’s arm.

The pencil swerved in Amelia’s hand.

“Honey...” Amelia groaned. “I’m on a deadline. My publisher expects these Hawaiian rainforest birds finished, bed rest and romantic crisis or not.”

Amelia ripped off the ruined drawing. “And no, I’m not going to tell you what I know. It’s Sawyer’s story to tell. If you’d give him a chance—”

“Give him another go at my heart? I think not. I’d sooner be oyster roasted.” Honey flung out her hands. “Clam baked. Crab deviled.”

“Stop with the food analogies. You’re making me hungry.” Amelia skimmed her fingertips over her basketball-size belly. “Baby, too. And I’m already the size of a beached whale.”

Honey’s lips quirked. “An attractive beached whale, though.”

“Love you, too, sister.” But Amelia smiled.

Honey folded her arms over her pink It’s a Shore Thang T-shirt. “Speaking of the baby, you and Braeden need to talk to Max. He’s not dealing so well with ‘Baby Makes Four.’”

She relayed her conversation with Max at the Sandpiper.

Amelia’s gaze roamed to her wedding photo on the bureau. “I thought we dealt with his insecurity before we left Hawaii. He loved it there, but he was so happy to come home to his old room and see you and Dad.”

Honey picked up the picture frame. “Glad to see his dog, Blackie, you mean. Dad and I missed you, too.” She studied the photo of Amelia’s gorgeous barrier island wedding.

“Such a happy day. Three years ago this Labor Day.”

“Now a different kind of labor day awaits.”

Amelia mock-groaned and reached for the pillow behind her back.

Honey laughed and skipped out of range. “And school starts as usual the day after, but I’ve promised Max we’ll go clamming in between visitors this weekend. Dad will keep him busy as first mate on the fishing charters, too.”

“May not be many charters.” Amelia cut her eyes toward the window. “Sky’s still blue, but Dad says his bones tell him a storm’s coming.”

Honey massaged her forehead. “Please, no. Not before the Labor Day weekend. It’s summer’s last hurrah and I can’t afford any cancellations.”

She shifted from one fuchsia polka dot flip-flop to the other. “Maybe the storm will weaken once it leaves the Caribbean. Better yet, give the Shore a wide berth and blow itself far, far out to sea.”

Amelia shrugged. “If an Eastern Shoreman like Dad thinks it’s coming...”

“It’s coming,” Honey moaned.

“Which means Braeden and the station crew will be busy preparing for the worst case scenario. You know their motto, Always Ready.”

“Coasties.” Honey set the photo with a firm thud onto the pine bureau. “You’ve gone soft with marriage and a new baby, ’Melia.”

Amelia sent a pointed look in Honey’s direction. “And you’ve gone cynical and bitter.”

Honey tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Courtesy of a Coastie and the pain of unrequited love.”

“You sure it’s unrequited?”

Honey batted her eyes. “Pretty sure since he’s the one who left me crying on the beach.”

“What happened to the Duer sister who dreamed of reopening the Duer Lodge? Who single-handedly restored this old house? Who juggles finicky tourists, placates jittery brides and also manages to keep dear ole Dad on the straight and narrow with his heart medication?”

Honey spun on her heel. “I’ll tell you what happened to her. Sawyer Kole happened to her. Plus a stagnant economy. Tourism in the tank. The yet unpaid debt on the remodel. I’m not bitter. I’m a realist.”

“I liked the old Honey better.”

Honey fought to keep her lips from trembling. Actually, so did she. But she’d never admit that to Amelia or anyone else. She’d poured all her passion and all her drive into making the inn an Eastern Shore vacation and wedding destination.

Talk about black holes? She felt as if she’d fallen into one ever since Sawyer walked out of her life. And truth be told, she didn’t know how to free herself from the whirling maelstrom of doubt and sadness in which she found herself trapped.

“So you don’t believe in second chances, Honey? In forgiveness?”

“Why should I? Not like Lindi ever got a second chance before getting creamed by the drunk driver. Or Mom before the cancer killed her.”

Amelia sucked in a breath. “Honey... I never knew you felt that way.”

“Yeah, that was the old Honey. Smile though your heart is breaking. But you know my new motto, There’s Nothing Life Throws at You That Sweet Tea And the Duer Lodge Can’t Cure.”

“Maybe you should give forgiveness a try.”

“Maybe God should have given Mom and Lindi another chance.”

Amelia’s mouth quivered. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re mad at God.”

“Oh, I’m not just mad at God. I’m mad at myself. I’m mad for trusting that cowboy Coastie in the first place. Believing we could ever have a life together.”

She jutted her chin. “Well, I’ve made a life. A life for myself right here on the Shore. A life without Sawyer Kole. I’ve created an oasis of calm and elegance and class where no one can ever hurt me again.”

Amelia caught hold of her hand. “Sounds like a lonely life. I’m sorry Braeden got reassigned so soon after we were married. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

“Don’t ever be sorry for your happily-ever-after, big sis.” She gently extricated herself from Amelia’s grasp. “You deserve every happiness in the world.”

“So do you, baby sis.”

Honey leaned and gave her sister a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m not that baby you and Dad have to watch out for anymore, ’Melia. I’m grown up now, and I can take care of myself. This inn proves it.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me or Dad, Honey.”

“Prove it to myself then. And this town. Especially after the way I acted the fool despite your warnings about here today, gone tomorrow Coasties. You were kind to never say ‘I told you so.’ Some of the older village ladies weren’t so kind, believe me.”

“Is that why you haven’t been to church in a year? You know how those town ladies talk. Too much time on their hands. Besides, we grew up worshipping there. It’s always been such a safe haven, a sanctuary of peace.”

“A safe haven for you maybe. Not for me.” Honey pushed back her shoulders. “This house is my sanctuary.”

“Oh, Honey...”

“It’s true. Only safe haven I need. And anyway, Sunday morning breakfasts are a big deal. Part of the advertised package. A long, leisurely time for guests to relax before checking out and returning to their stressful off-Shore lives.”

Amelia frowned. “I’m not going to stop praying for you. And for your happily-ever-after, too.”

“Pray away. Though I’d appreciate it more if you and God could get this storm to take a detour away from the Eastern Shore and my bottom line. Not everybody is lucky enough to have a Max and Braeden in their life.”

“Not lucky, Honey. Blessed.”

“Whatever. Speaking of Max, time for me to pick him up at Mr. Billy’s house. He was excited about feeding the baby goats, but I promised Max as soon as I got you settled we’d spend the rest of the afternoon clamming in the tidal marsh.”

After leaving her sister, Honey did a quick check of the guest bedrooms in the Victorian inn. Fresh towels hung from the en suite bathrooms she’d installed at tremendous cost. She’d already changed the sumptuous bed linens before leaving for the Sandpiper this morning.

She’d have a full house this weekend if the storm didn’t scare the tourists away. And the big wedding scheduled on the lawn for Sunday should be fine. Although the bride from off-Shore with her last-minute demands might make Honey lose her carefully wrought reputation for no-hitch weddings, not to mention her mind. But with the deep-pocketed father of the bride renting out the entire property—inn, cabin and dock—for the day, Honey could afford to give his diva daughter some leeway.

Her current guests were no doubt busy kayaking through the Inner Passage off Kiptohanock. Birding, boating and doing a hundred other Eastern Shore activities she and the Accomack County Tourist Board had worked so hard to highlight. So far, so good. This season had been a tremendous success and blessing—she grimaced.

Amelia, get out of my head.

With registration complete for the day and her guests otherwise occupied till breakfast the next morning, the rest of the day belonged to Honey. She had yeast rolls rising in the commercial-grade kitchen and a load of laundry going in the front-loading washer on the back screened porch. Off limits to non-Duers.

She trailed her hand down the graceful, curving bannister as she did a look-see of the downstairs common area. Guests found her dad’s piecrust table checkerboard folksy. The sea glass and driftwood decor she’d collected from the barrier island charming and beachy. The knotted pine interior rustic and homey.

Homey Honey. That was her.

She straightened an errant sofa cushion, which had gone catabiased—to use one of Dad’s favorite Eastern Shore expressions. And as usual, whenever in the remodeled family room, her gaze drifted to the one thing she refused to change. The Duer family portrait taken on the lawn overlooking the inlet. Taken when everything had been safe in her childhood world.

Before Caroline went off to college and never returned. Before Mom succumbed to cancer. Before Dad lost himself to a decade of grief. Before her oldest sister, Lindi—like Honey—unwisely loved a Coastie and in the process paid for it with her life.

Other than Honey’s nonexistent love life, things were better now. With Amelia happily married, Max healthy and whole, and her dad once more in business with his oldest love, the sea, Honey had the time to make her fondest dream a reality—bringing the Duer Lodge back to life. Home to seven generations of Duers, Virginia watermen one and all.

During the last century, Northern steel magnates roughed it at the Duer’s fisherman lodge while her ancestors oystered and served as hunting guides in the winter. Crabbed and ran charters in the summer. The lodge’s heyday—and the steamers from Wachapreague to New York City—had long ago passed into history. But with Honey’s hand on the proverbial rudder?

What had once been lost would finally be regained.

She bit her lip.

If only everything else in her life could be so easily restored.

* * *

Sawyer drove around the Kiptohanock village square, occupied by the cupola-topped gazebo.

Not much had changed in the seaside hamlet. The post office and bait shop. The white-steepled clapboard church. The CG station. Boat repair business. Victorian homes meandered off side lanes.

But he’d not understood until he left this place behind three years ago how much the village and its hardy fishing folk had seeped into his heart.

Especially Honey.

By his own choice, he’d believed himself cut off from her forever. And he’d worked hard—on and off duty—to forget her. To no avail.

The emptiness remained no matter what he did. California girls had not proven—like Honey’s favorite song declared—to be the best in the world for him. He’d stopped hanging out with the guys when off watch. Because nothing stopped the ache in his chest when he thought of the doe-eyed girl he’d left behind on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.

Nothing and no one—until that last tragic search and rescue off the coast of San Diego. At the end of his strength—mental, physical and spiritual—he’d reached in a last desperate attempt for the God the Duers served. And in the reaching—he’d been found.

And in turn found peace. Sufficient to wash away the sadness and the fears. More than enough for any situation he faced.

It had been the picture of the white-steepled church hugging the shoreline of coastal Kiptohanock that came to his mind amidst the uncertainty and fear of that mission gone wrong. The steeple—rising like a beacon of hope above the tree line as the boats came into harbor—which he remembered when pitted against the elements in a life and death struggle. The image kept him tethered to life in those horrible hours in the Pacific when he struggled to survive.

The steeple—a lifeline of hope and mercy. A lifeline that led afterward to a relationship with the Creator of the vast and deep.

A relationship Sawyer looked forward to nurturing. There was so much this former foster kid needed to learn. Unlike the Duers, his backside had never darkened a church pew until recently.

He was eager before he shipped out again to find out more about this God Braeden and the Duers served at the small, country church in Kiptohanock. Braeden had encouraged him to meet with Reverend Parks. But in the secret places of his heart, Sawyer worried like a dog with a bone whether God could ever really love someone like him.

Sawyer shook his head to clear the troublesome thoughts as he followed Seaside Road, which paralleled the main Eastern Shore artery of Highway 13 on one side and the archipelago of shoals, spits and islands that dotted the ocean side. He turned into the long dapple-shaded Duer drive.

Thrusting open the door of his truck, he took a quick breath for courage. His sneakers crunched across the oyster-shelled path leading to the wraparound porch. Where he found the very pregnant Amelia ensconced on a white wicker chaise lounge chair, sipping a tall cool glass of sweet tea.

His mouth watered. Another thing this Oklahoma boy missed about the Eastern Shore and the South. That and Amelia Scott’s sister.

Amelia deposited her glass with a plunk onto the small table at her elbow.

His eyes narrowed.

Their last encounter—with Amelia declaring his utter unfitness to be a part of her baby sister’s life—had not gone well. And there was the harpoon incident the first time she met her future husband whom she mistook for an intruder. A case of mistaken identity, which three happily married years later, Braeden still liked to joke about.

Amelia gestured toward the pitcher. “Want some tea?”

Sawyer moistened his lower lip with his tongue, but he shook his head. “No, ma’am. Thank you, though.”

He stayed on the bottom step, ready to flee should Amelia decide to chuck the contents at him. Couldn’t be too careful with these Duer girls.

She scrunched her face, wrinkling the freckles sprinkling the bridge of her nose. “You make me feel so old when you call me ma’am. But I can’t fault your manners. Someone taught you well.”

His gaze swept across the black urns filled with fire-engine red geraniums positioned on either side of each planked step. That would’ve been the last foster mom who’d encouraged him to give rodeo a try.

“What did you come here for, Sawyer?”

His eyes darted upward. “I came for Honey.”

She laughed.

He flushed. “I—I mean I came to talk to her. To apologize before I head out in a few days.”

Amelia skewered him with a look.

He shuffled his feet.

“I think you said exactly what you meant the first time.” She reached for her glass. “And don’t be in such a rush to leave us again.”

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Is she in the house? Could I talk to her? Will she talk to me?”

“It’s low tide.” Amelia brought the tea glass to her lips. “She and Max went clamming.”

His heart sank. “Oh.”

“But no reason you can’t take the extra kayak and head out into the marsh to find them. With Max along, she won’t have gone far.”

He raised his eyebrow into a question mark. “With Max along, is there any point in me trying to talk to her?”

Amelia’s lips curved into a smile. “With Max along, it may save you from getting clam raked. She’ll keep it civil in front of him.” Amelia glanced toward the sky. “I hope.”

She motioned behind the house to where the lawn sloped to the Duer dock. “Go on. Time’s a-wasting. Three years a-wasting, if you get my drift.”

“I’ve never been clamming. I don’t know where to look for them.”

“Keep paddling until you find the dirtiest, muckiest patch of marsh mud and there they’ll be.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Scott. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for upsetting you that spring, too.” He forced himself to look into Amelia’s blue-green eyes.

The compassion—and forgiveness—he beheld there made his chest tighten.

“You also saved my life that spring, Sawyer. Pulled me out of the Kiptohanock harbor while Braeden saved Max from his own impulsiveness. And it’s Amelia. Or ’Melia to friends like you.”

His eyes widened. “After what happened... I’m surprised you’d want me as a friend. Or allow me to get within a nautical mile of Honey.”

Amelia cocked her head. “I’m glad you’re back. A new, better man, Braeden tells me. And I know Honey will be glad you’re back, too. Once she gets over being furious with you.”

He planted his feet even with his hips. “Don’t know I’ll be here long enough for that to happen. She’s plenty mad.”

“She’s also plenty in love with you, XPO Kole.”

He fought the moisture in his eyes. “I—I can’t wish for that, ’Melia. Can’t allow myself to hope. I never did deserve Honey. Still don’t.”

“It’s not about being good enough, Sawyer.”

He hunched his shoulders.

Amelia sighed. “I hope you’ll join us at church this Sunday before you leave. I wish Honey would, too. But she won’t. Hasn’t come in a long time.”

Something else to lay at his revolving door of never-ending guilt.

God help him, Sawyer had so much for which to make amends.

He turned to go.

“And Sawyer?”

He paused.

“Godspeed on this journey God has for you, my friend. Godspeed.”