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Child of Grace
Irene Hannon
After giving up a high-powered corporate job, mom-to-be Kelsey Anderson decides to follow her dream. She moves to her late grandmother's lake house and decides to open a quilting shop in town. Then former army doctor Luke Turner moves in next door. The war-weary man stirs feelings in Kelsey that soon make her rethink all her plans.But she has some hard decisions to make, and worries if Luke will ever accept her and her baby. Kelsey must come to terms with the past, and trust there's a future with Luke in God's plan
Luke regarded Kelsey, the expression in his dark brown eyes unreadable. “Why do I make you nervous?”
It was foolish to deny the obvious. But neither was she about to explain her reaction to this stranger.
Luke rested his elbows on the table. “Have I done something to offend or alarm you during our short acquaintance?”
“No. You haven’t.” She took a deep breath.
He pinned her with an intent gaze. “This youth center is too important to fall victim to a personality quirk. If you don’t think we can work together, tell me now.”
Kelsey was taken aback by his candor. From everything she’d heard and seen, he appeared to be a principled, compassionate…safe man. What could she have to fear from a former army doctor?
She forced herself to meet his eyes. “The truth is, I’m a bit battle-scarred myself. I apologize if I’ve offended you. Maybe we should start over.”
He gave a slow nod and lifted his coffee cup. “I’ll drink to that.”
IRENE HANNON
writes both romance and romantic suspense and is the author of more than thirty-five novels, including the bestselling Heroes of Quantico series—Against All Odds, An Eye For An Eye and In Harm’s Way. A four-time RITA
Award (the “Oscar” of romantic fiction) finalist, she took home the golden statuette in 2003. Her books have also been honored with a Daphne du Maurier award, two Reviewers’ Choice awards from RT Book Reviews magazine and a HOLT medallion. A former corporate communications executive with a Fortune 500 company, Irene now writes full-time. She and her husband make their home in Missouri. For more information, Irene invites you to visit her website at www.irenehannon.com.
Child of Grace
Irene Hannon
Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I consecrated you.
—Jeremiah 1:5
To my husband, Tom—
Thank you for being my partner on this journey called life.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Someone was on his beach.
Frowning, Luke Turner stopped halfway down the forty wooden steps that led to what was supposed to be a private beach on the shores of Lake Michigan. But the brim of a large, floppy hat peeked above the wide swath of tall grass between the base of the steps and the open sand. And it was low to the ground. Meaning the woman who owned it was sitting, not just pausing to admire the view while strolling by.
A definite breach of beach etiquette in this part of the world.
Stifling a sigh, he resettled the frame of his chair on his shoulder, took a sip of coffee from his mug and resumed his descent. He hadn’t planned to start his visit to Pier Cove with a confrontation. He’d seen enough conflict during his past ten years as an army doctor to last a lifetime. Now that his enlistment was up, he just wanted some quiet time to reacclimatize to civilian life, complete one final mission before heading home to Atlanta and the E.R. job that awaited him, and chill.
And he’d planned to do a lot of that chilling on his private beach.
At the bottom of the steps, he stopped again to take another sip of coffee. He didn’t want to make a scene. But he didn’t appreciate trespassers, either. When Mark had offered him the use of his place, he’d said the house next door, which shared the beach, had been unoccupied since the owner died last fall. Luke was well within his rights to tell the woman to move on.
And maybe this would be easy. It was possible she was a vacationer who didn’t know most Michigan beaches were private. If so, he could direct her to the public beach a short stroll away. Then he could enjoy this sunny Saturday morning in peaceful isolation.
Fortified by that little pep talk, he followed the narrow path through the swaying grass and stepped onto the sand.
The interloper was angled slightly away from him, seated in a beach chair, her long, shapely legs stretched in front of her, a pair of flip-flops askew in the sand beside them, as if she’d kicked them off. She was wrapped in a gaudy beach towel to ward off the morning chill Mark had warned him was common on the lakeshore even in mid-July, and her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. Shoulder-length blond hair peeked beneath the brim of her hat, and her head was bent as she perused a book. Beside her, a thermos was stuck into the top of an overflowing beach bag, and she was juggling a mug of coffee in one hand.
In other words, she was settled in for the duration.
Bracing himself, Luke cleared his throat.
At the sound, the woman jerked toward him. The coffee sloshed out of her mug, and she yelped as the hot liquid splashed onto her skin.
Nice approach, Turner. Scare her half to death.
Luke took a step forward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Keeping a wary eye on him, she dumped the rest of her coffee into the sand and struggled out of the low-slung chair. The book slid off her lap as she rose, and the towel slipped from around her shoulders. She grabbed it…but not before he got a good look at her rounded figure.
She was pregnant.
Very pregnant.
And apparently unmarried.
Her empty ring finger was front and center as she readjusted the towel around her shoulders and clutched it in front of her.
So was the pink spot on the back of her other hand.
He took another step toward her, eyeing the burn. “Cold water will…”
She stumbled back, almost tripping over her chair on the uneven sand.
He stopped.
So did she.
But she scanned the beach, as if seeking…help?
Although he couldn’t see much of her face under the large hat, and her eyes were hidden behind the glasses, he was picking up fear. Not just leftover fear from being startled, but panic almost. She seemed poised to flee. As if she thought he might become violent.
Did he look that angry?
Maybe. More than one medic had told him he was intimidating—especially when aggravated. Plus, at six-one he usually had a height advantage in any confrontation. And today he had a big one. The woman across from him couldn’t be more than five-three, five-four. But he wasn’t that mad about her being on his beach.
He forced his taut features to relax and summoned up a smile. “I’m not in the habit of…”
“This is a private beach.”
At her accusatory tone, his smile faded. “Yes, it is. My beach, as a matter of fact.”
Her brow wrinkled. “No, it’s my beach. Maybe you got turned around coming through the grass.”
“Maybe you did.” He gestured toward the top of the bluff with his mug. “I’m staying at Mark Lewis’s place. I got in late last night.”
The creases marring her forehead deepened. “I live next door.”
Luke didn’t try to hide his skepticism. “Mark told me the owner of that house had died and the place was empty.”
The muscles in her throat contracted as she swallowed. “The owner was my grandmother. She passed away in October. I inherited the house and moved in four months ago.”
Although the woman still seemed nervous, she tipped up her chin and held her ground.
Spunky little thing.
Luke took a sip of his coffee as he mulled over her claim. Mark had been out of the country for months, on an overseas assignment for his company. It was possible he wasn’t up-to-date on his neighbors. And this woman didn’t appear to be lying. Nor did she seem to be any happier about sharing the beach than he was.
He surveyed the strip of sand. It was narrow, but wide. They ought to be able to make this work.
“I’ll tell you what—why don’t we start over, seeing that we’ll be neighbors for a few weeks?” Once more he tried out a smile. Setting his mug on the sand, he moved toward her and extended his hand. “Let me introduce—”
Her grip on the towel tightened, and she took another step back.
Flummoxed, he stopped a few feet away, his hand still extended. What was with her, anyway? Maybe they hadn’t gotten off on the best foot, but he hadn’t done anything threatening.
As she secured the towel around her shoulders, his gaze dropped to the pink spot on her hand. It was turning red, and he suspected a blister would soon form.
He dropped his hand and nodded toward hers. “You need to put that under cold water. And it would help to cover it with sterile gauze. Cutting off the air will ease the discomfort and protect the skin. I have some if you need it.”
“Thanks. I’ll be fine.”
She worked her feet into her flip-flops, then retrieved her mug and book and shoved them into the beach bag—all the while keeping tabs on him. Slinging the canvas tote over her shoulder, she folded up her chair, tucked it under her arm and started toward the stairs.
The thought of her trying to navigate the steep, narrow steps in her condition while juggling the chair and tote sent a chill down Luke’s spine.
“Why don’t you let me help you with some of that?” He fell in behind her.
Throwing an alarmed glance over her shoulder, she picked up her pace. “I can manage. I do this all the time. Thanks.” The expression of gratitude was tacked on, like an afterthought.
He fell back, watching as she plunged into the tall grass and followed the faint path, holding his breath while she labored up the wooden steps. When she took a quick look back toward the beach from the top, he raised a hand in farewell.
She ignored him.
Five seconds later she disappeared, heading toward the small bungalow tucked among the trees that he’d noticed from his bedroom window this morning.
Talk about strange encounters.
Shaking his head, he picked up his mug and moved farther down the beach, near the edge of the property line. As far away from the pregnant blonde’s spot as possible. They might have to share the beach, but it was big enough for both of them. Better yet, his privacy should be safe. His neighbor didn’t strike him as the warm, friendly, talkative type.
As he unfolded his chair, Luke tried to look on the bright side. If he had to have a neighbor, at least she wasn’t part of some large, noisy family with a passel of kids who would disrupt his coveted and much-anticipated beach time.
Of course, it was possible his aloof beach mate had a husband or boyfriend or kids stashed in the bungalow. But some sixth sense told him she was here alone.
So where was the baby’s father? Why wasn’t he here to help her carry stuff up and down the steps?
Not your problem, Turner.
Determined to put his solitary neighbor out of his mind and enjoy the expansive view of the sparkling lake, Luke settled into his chair. He’d spent the past ten years caring about people in distress. Sometimes too much. Combat medicine was brutal, the injuries grievous, the mortality rate high. Eventually, the loss of life ate at your gut. He was here to heal. To keep a promise. To move on.
The last thing he needed was one more person to worry about.
As she held her hand under the cold running water in her kitchen sink, Kelsey Anderson focused on the dazzling expanse of blue water stretching to the horizon.
In the four months since she’d moved into the sturdy little cottage that had been built to withstand the brutal winter winds and ice of the Michigan lakeshore, this view had always calmed her. It carried her back to the carefree visits of her youth, when she and her parents and sister had come here for two or three weeks every summer. And it was the same view that had consoled her when she and Gram came alone all the summers after her mom died, while her dad had been working and her older sister had been busy with her part-time job.
But thanks to a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders, a powerful chest and biceps that were more scary than impressive, it didn’t console her today.
If she had to have a neighbor, why couldn’t it have been a single woman? Or an older couple? Or a family?
Why did it have to be a strong, lone male?
A shiver ran through her, and she turned off the tap. But memories, not cold water, accounted for her sudden chill. Memories she’d been trying hard to contain. And she’d done a good job of that.
Until today.
Taking a calming breath, she examined the coffee burn on the back of her right hand. A blister had formed, and when she flexed her fingers the patch stung. Her neighbor had suggested she cover it with gauze, but how many people kept gauze in their house? A Band-Aid would have to suffice.
As she rummaged through her first aid supplies in the bathroom vanity, she tried not to let the stranger’s appearance ruin her day. But she always looked forward to her solitary Saturday mornings on the beach. She relished those quiet early hours before she opened her quilt shop for the weekend.
That peaceful interlude wasn’t going to happen today, though.
And perhaps not again until her neighbor left.
Unfortunately, he’d mentioned being here for a few weeks. That would take them to the end of summer—and the end of morning weather conducive to sitting on the beach.
But maybe the allure of the sand and surf would wear off for him after a few days, and she’d have it to herself again. That often happened with visitors.
At least she could hope.
The view was great, and Luke shifted around in his beach chair, trying to unwind and enjoy it. But he couldn’t find a comfortable position. Instead of chilling out, he felt restless—and more than a little guilty. He was sorry now about chasing off the jittery blonde. She seemed as much in need of a quiet respite as he did.
His relaxing morning a bust, Luke gave up. He had things to do anyway. Unpack, stock up on some groceries in Douglas or Saugatuck, get his thoughts together for Monday’s meeting. He could try the beach again tonight. Watch the sunset, perhaps. They were supposed to be spectacular around here.
After draining his mug in the sand, he rose, he folded up his chair and set off for the steps.
As he waded through the tall grass, a book lying in the sand caught his eye. The one the blonde had shoved into the top of her beach bag before her hasty departure.
He bent to retrieve it, flipping the cover over to read the title: Banishing Fear—How to Find Courage in Christ.
A woman of faith. Interesting.
An interesting title, too.
What was his neighbor afraid of? And why was she seeking courage?
Weighing the book in his hand, he debated what to do with it. He doubted she’d appreciate him showing up at her door. Especially holding a book with a revealing title like this. But he couldn’t leave it in the sand, either.
She had a back porch, though. He’d glimpsed it this morning from his bedroom window. If he left it there, there’d be no need for face-to-face contact.
Decision made, he started up the steps. It was a long haul, and despite his stringent exercise regime, he was breathing harder after the steep climb. As he paused at the top, he glanced at the back of the bungalow next door, visible through the trees that divided the properties. The trek up would have been a lot tougher for his pregnant neighbor. Based on the quick glimpse he’d gotten when her towel had slipped, she was seven or eight months along—and she’d been lugging a lot more stuff than he was.
Yet she’d refused his offer of assistance.
A woman of mystery, no question about it.
He made a quick detour to lean his beach chair against one of the two Adirondack chairs behind Mark’s Cape Cod-style, white clapboard house, setting his mug on the chair’s broad arm. Then he crossed the lawn, circled around the woods and headed for his neighbor’s porch.
His step faltered, however, as the screened structure came into view.
She was inside.
He’d have turned around at once—except he didn’t like what he saw. She was balanced on a ladder, reaching toward the fixture in the ceiling. Attempting to change a lightbulb.
And the ladder didn’t look any too stable.
He lengthened his stride.
All at once, as if to reinforce his conclusion, the ladder wobbled. As he broke into a sprint, she clutched at the sides, dropping the replacement bulb in the process. He heard it shatter as he took the two porch steps in one leap, opened the door and grabbed for the ladder, tossing the book he was carrying onto a wicker settee.
His sudden appearance seemed to rattle her as much as the wobbling ladder had. Sucking in a sharp breath, she tried to descend quickly. But she missed a rung, and Luke relinquished his grip on the ladder to catch her when she slipped backward.
As his arms went around her and he absorbed her weight, he heard her panicked gasp. Felt the tremors coursing through her. Sensed her almost palpable fear.
And when her oversized T-shirt slipped off one shoulder, he also saw the jagged scar of recent vintage near her collarbone.
“You’re okay.” He gentled his voice, his focus still on the scar. “I’ve got you. Take a few deep breaths.”
If she heard him, she gave no indication. Instead, she jerked out of his arms and stumbled toward her back door. As if she was running away.
Again.
As she fumbled with the knob, her back to him, he tried to reassure her.
“Look—I just came over to return your book. You must have dropped it on the beach.”
She froze. Checked him out over her shoulder.
He tipped his head toward the book on the settee.
Flicking a look in that direction, she blushed. Then she turned halfway toward him, keeping one hand on the knob. As if prepared to flee at the slightest provocation. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He gestured toward the ladder. “I think you need to replace that. It’s seen better days.”
“I will.”
“In the meantime, why don’t you let me change the bulb for you?”
“That’s not necessary. Thank you.”
Let it go, Luke. She doesn’t want your help.
Even as that advice echoed in his mind, Luke found himself pushing—for reasons that eluded him.
“I don’t mind. Might as well finish the job, as long as the ladder’s out.”
Without waiting for a reply, he repositioned the ladder and climbed up two rungs. Then he angled toward her expectantly.
She lifted her head and regarded him in silence, her expression uncertain.
He waited her out. Trying to maintain a pleasant, nonthreatening demeanor. Trying to figure out what was going on with his skittish neighbor. And trying not to get distracted by the wide green eyes fringed with thick, sweeping lashes, that had been hidden behind sunglasses earlier.
At last, she fumbled for the knob behind her. “Okay. Give me a minute.”
With that, she disappeared inside. The door shut behind her. And though he was a few feet away, he heard the lock quietly slide into place.
Did he come across as that untrustworthy? Or was there some other reason for his neighbor’s extreme caution?
Like that scar?
As he puzzled over those questions, he heard the lock again. A moment later, she exited, bulb in hand. Moving toward him, she stayed as far back as possible and held it up.
He had to lean sideways to reach it. As soon as the transfer was made, she retreated to the door.
After unscrewing the old bulb, he inserted the new one and rejoined her on the porch floor. He spoke over his shoulder as he folded up the rickety ladder.
“Where would you like this?”
“Just set it against the wall for now.”
He did as she asked. He wasn’t crazy about her carrying the heavy old wooden ladder, but it was better than her climbing on it. And he suspected he’d pushed enough for one day.
Brushing off his hands, he moved to the porch door—trying to give her the wide perimeter of personal space she seemed to require.
“By the way, I’ve staked out a spot at the far end of the beach. That way, we’ll each have our privacy.”
“Okay.”
“Well…see you around.”
She didn’t respond. But as Luke descended the steps and crossed her lawn, he had the feeling she was watching him leave.
And hoping she wouldn’t be seeing him around.
He was back.
Kelsey couldn’t see him in the darkness. But she knew he was there. She could feel his presence. Behind her. Or in the woods on either side of her. Somewhere close.
Too close.
She had to get away.
Increasing her speed from a jog to a run, she pushed herself forward. Beads of sweat formed on her brow and began to trickle down her face. She shouldn’t have come out here alone at night.
Panic surged through her, and she ran harder. Trying to elude her pursuer.
But she couldn’t. He was faster. Stronger. She could hear his ragged breathing as he drew closer.
A sob rose in her throat. There were lights up ahead. People. Activity. In another two minutes she’d—
A hand gripped her arm.
Another clamped over her mouth.
She was yanked backward and dragged into the woods. She kicked. Twisted. Scratched. Nothing loosened the man’s vise-like grip. He slammed her to the ground. Pressed a knife to her throat. Told her if she screamed she’d die.
Waves of terror washed over her, sucking her down, down, down. And then the screams came anyway. Over and over and…
Kelsey shot upright in bed, chest heaving as she gasped for breath and choked back the terrified cries clawing their way past her throat. Slowly, the familiar outlines of her cozy room came into focus, illuminated by the soft light from the lamp she lit each night to keep darkness at bay.
She was safe.
Choking back a sob, she closed her eyes and forced herself to take deep, even breaths. To focus on a mental picture of the placid, sparkling lake outside her bungalow. To imagine drinking the rich hot chocolate Gram used to make.
The comforting images worked their magic. Her heart resumed its normal rhythm. Her respiration slowed. Her shaking subsided.
When she felt steadier, she swung her feet to the floor and stood, one hand resting on the new life growing within her as she padded through the snug bungalow, double-checking every lock. It had been more than three months since she’d had such a graphic dream. Once she moved here and settled into Gram’s house, they’d dissipated. Here, she’d felt safe.
But things had changed. Thanks to her new neighbor.
And he was going to be around until the end of the summer.
With a sigh, Kelsey made her way back to her bedroom.
It was going to be a long few weeks.
Chapter Two
“Teatime, my dear.”
Setting aside the pattern she’d been sketching, Kelsey swiveled away from her desk and toward the front of Not Your Grandmother’s Quilts. Dorothy Martin stood a few feet away, holding a delicate china cup of tea—and a plate containing two mini homemade scones.
Kelsey shook her head and smiled as she took the offering. “If you keep spoiling me like this, I’m going to have twenty extra pounds to lose after I have this baby.”
The older woman waved her objections aside and tucked one stray strand of white hair back into her perfect chignon. “Nonsense. You haven’t gained enough weight, if you ask me.”
“The doctor says I’m fine.”
“Hmph.” Dorothy fingered the single strand of pearls around her neck, skepticism quirking her mouth. “You look tired to me. And you seemed a little stressed on Saturday. I meant to get over here and visit with you, but we were swamped.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have talked you into letting me rent half your space for my shop. You’ve had to turn customers away at Tea for Two ever since I moved in.”
“Don’t be silly. It was a fine idea. This place was way too big for me.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and leaned closer. “I’m seventy-five years old, Kelsey, even if I don’t look a day over sixty-five.” With a wink, she straightened. “I’d have retired if you hadn’t made me that offer. This lets me keep my finger in the business without as much pressure. Serving a light lunch to fifty is a lot easier than dealing with two or three times that many people. This has worked out well for both of us.”
“I know I’ve benefited. I get perks like this.” She lifted her cup. “I’m not sure what you get out of the deal.”
“Companionship.” The older woman’s usual sunny expression dimmed a few watts. “I surely do miss your grandmother. She used to drive into Douglas for a visit almost every afternoon. I looked forward to our chats—even if she did insist I serve her tea in a mug.” An affectionate smile tugged at the older woman’s lips.
In the silence that followed, Kelsey took a sip of the herbal tea from her china cup. How Dorothy and her grandmother had ever connected was beyond her. They’d been as different as two women could be. Dorothy wore silk, cherished tradition and liked order. Bess Anderson had favored jeans, loved to experiment with new ideas and thrived in chaos.
But they’d shared common values, lively intellects and kind hearts. Apparently that had been enough to seal their friendship for more than forty years.
“Gram was one of a kind, wasn’t she?” The words came out choked, and Kelsey set the cup back on the saucer.
“That she was.” Dorothy patted her arm, then straightened her own shoulders. “And she wouldn’t want us to be moping around on her behalf. I never did meet a person who could wring more joy out of a day than Bess Anderson. I expect she’d be disappointed if we didn’t follow her example.”
“I agree. It’s just harder some days than others to do that.”
Dorothy gave her a keen look. “Any particular reason why it’s harder today?”
Kelsey lifted one shoulder. “I haven’t slept very well the past two nights.”
The older woman wrinkled her brow. “Bad dreams again?”
“Yes.” Dorothy was one of the few people who knew Kelsey’s story. Her grandmother’s never-married best friend had always been like a cherished great-aunt, and since Kelsey had moved to Michigan, Dorothy had done her best to fill the role vacated by Gram.
“How odd. You’ve been doing so well. Did something trigger them?”
“Not something. Someone. My new neighbor. A man in his thirties who’s staying at the Lewis house. Alone, as far as I can tell.” She traced the delicate gold-edged rim of the saucer with a fingertip. “He came up behind me on the beach Saturday.”
“Oh, my.” Distress tightened Dorothy’s features. “I can see how that would have been upsetting.”
“To make matters worse, I dropped a book while I was down there, and when he came by to return it I was changing a lightbulb on the porch. I was so startled I fell into his arms. Literally. I almost hyperventilated.”
The bell over the front door jingled, announcing the arrival of tearoom customers, and Dorothy called out to the two women who entered. “I’ll be right with you.” Then she leaned closer to Kelsey and lowered her voice. “Maybe you should talk to Dr. Walters again.”
“Maybe.” She’d made weekly trips to the therapist in Holland during her first six weeks in Michigan, but her visits had tapered off as the nightmares grew less and less frequent. She hadn’t been to see the woman in more than two months.
Now the nightmares were back. Thanks to Luke Turner.
As Dorothy seated her luncheon guests on the other side of the building, Kelsey forced herself to focus on more pleasant thoughts. Nibbling at a blueberry scone, she examined the row of quilts, displayed on large racks, that separated Tea for Two from Not Your Grandmother’s Quilts in the high-ceilinged space they shared. The two in the middle were Gram’s, and they were stunning. Creative, contemporary and abstract, they were pieces of art—and not at all what most people pictured when they heard the word quilt.
The ones on either end were hers. One was a commissioned piece she’d finished a couple of weeks ago and would soon be shipping off to the buyer. The other—an intricate, modernistic, three-dimensional design—wasn’t for sale. Gram had praised it highly, calling it a breakout piece when Kelsey had sent her a photo of it last year. It had taken her three years to make, squeezing in a few minutes of work on it here and there. As she’d discovered, climbing the corporate ladder left little time or energy for anything else, including artistic pursuits. In fact, after finishing that piece she’d considered setting aside her beloved pastime for the indefinite future.
Yet now she was making quilts full-time.
It was surreal.
The baby kicked, and Kelsey placed a hand on her stomach—awed by the flutter of new life within her, even as it evoked traumatic memories.
It was a dichotomy she had yet to reconcile.
Her phone rang, and she swiveled back to her desk to answer it. As she picked up the receiver and prepared to switch gears, the baby kicked again.
Reminding her that the momentous decision she’d been struggling with couldn’t be deferred much longer.
Luke pulled into a parking space in front of the St. Francis rectory in Saugatuck, picked up his briefcase and stepped out of the car. The small adjacent church looked just as Carlos had described it—traditional in design, with elongated panels of stained glass on each side and a steeple that soared toward the blue sky.
This was where the medical corpsman had turned his life around.
This was where he’d hoped to return and make a difference in the lives of other young people.
This was where his funeral had been held two short months ago.
Luke swallowed past the lump in his throat, forcing back a surge of emotion. The time for tears was past. He was here to look to the future. To do his part to fulfill a young man’s dream. To keep a promise.
With one more look at the soaring steeple, he strode toward the door of the rectory and pressed the bell.
Thirty seconds later, a middle-aged man dressed in black and wearing a clerical collar answered. His smile created a fan of wrinkles at the corner of each eye as he stuck out his hand.
“Captain Turner, I presume. Or do you prefer Doctor?”
“Luke is fine. Father Reynolds?”
“Make it Father Joe. Come in, come in. I’ve been looking forward to your visit. Everyone is here, eagerly waiting to meet you.” He closed the door and led the way down the hall. “May I offer you a beverage?”
“Coffee would be good, if you have it.”
“Always.” The man grinned and veered to his left at a T in the hall, leading Luke into a small, homey kitchen. He headed straight for the coffeepot on the counter, pulled a mug off a hook and filled it. “There’s a carafe of coffee and disposable cups in the conference room, but the guest of honor deserves the real thing.” He lifted the ceramic mug. “Do you take cream or sugar?”
“I like it black.”
“So do I.” The clergyman handed him the coffee and retraced his steps, continuing past the T. “We rotate our meetings among participating churches, and it happened to be my turn. Appropriate, since this was Carlos’s church.”
A few seconds later, the man ushered him into a small conference room dominated by a large rectangular table. Six people of various ages sat around it. As he entered, their conversation ceased and they all looked toward him.
“My fellow clerics, our guest of honor has arrived.”
As Father Joe went through the introductions and Luke shook hands with each of the board members, he did his best to file away their names.
Once the formalities were finished, Father Joe gestured Luke toward the seat at the end of the table, then took his place at the other end.
“First, on behalf of the Greater Saugatuck Interdenominational Youth Fellowship, I want to thank you for initiating this project and for making such a personal investment in it. Your willingness to devote a significant amount of time to the planning and organizing has impressed all of us.” Father Joe beamed at him.
Heat rose on Luke’s neck, and he shifted in his seat. “I appreciate your kind words, Father, but my sacrifice is small in comparison to Carlos’s. I’m giving time. He gave his life.”
“Yes. Saving others. �No greater love…’” The priest grew somber and folded his hands on the table. “Before we begin, shall we join our hearts in prayer?”
As they bowed their heads, the pastor spoke. “Father, we thank You for giving us the opportunity to gather here as Your family. Like all families, we are diverse. And we don’t always agree. But You have opened our hearts and minds to allow us to seek our commonalities, and to unify behind the shared goal of supporting our youth and helping them grow in faith.
“We live in a difficult world, Lord, one where young people can easily be led astray. Here, in our program, they can find acceptance and love and guidance. We ask that You give us fortitude and inspiration as we go about Your work. We thank You for letting our lives be touched by an inspiring young man like Carlos Fernandez. And we thank You for sending Captain Taylor to us with a plan that will honor him by helping us carry on the work that changed his life.”
After a chorus of “amens,” Father Joe turned the meeting over to Luke, who pulled his notes from his briefcase and gave the board an outline of the project he and Father Joe had corresponded about over the past few weeks.
Although Carlos’s pastor had assured Luke the board was receptive to his idea, the enthusiastic response of the members was heartening.
But also a little unsettling.
Because, while Luke had come here to get the ball rolling for a youth center, the more the board members talked, the more it sounded as if they expected him to deliver said center in the short six weeks he would be in the area.
Catching his eye during an animated discussion about one fundraising idea, Father Joe smiled.
“Gentlemen—I think we’re overwhelming our benefactor. Why don’t we let him tell us what he would like to accomplish during his stay here, and see what we can do to assist him?”
Seven sets of eyes focused on him and the room grew quiet.
Luke cleared his throat and folded his hands on the table. “I’d be thrilled if we could break ground for this center before I leave. But realistically, that event may be a year or two down the road. If I learned one thing in the military, it was that nothing happens fast when a committee is involved.”
A knowing chuckle rippled around the table.
Luke flashed them a smile. “What I hoped to do during my stay was work with you to set everything in motion. That would include developing a fundraising plan, spreading the word about the project and helping line up appropriate resources and benefactors to support the project long-term. I’m not an expert at this sort of thing, but I’m hoping we can draft the assistance of some local people who are.”
“I agree we need to pull in experts.” A thin, middle-aged man with a receding hairline spoke. Reverend Matthew Howard, Luke recalled. “None of us have the time or expertise to make this center happen. But there are plenty of experts in our own community who could take on pieces of this. One in my own congregation, in fact. She’s a relative newcomer to the area. Kelsey Anderson. She runs a quilt shop in Douglas, but until earlier this year she was the director of public relations and corporate promotions for a large firm in St. Louis.”
When the man named the well-known company, Luke’s eyebrows rose. “That’s impressive. She sounds like just the kind of person we need.”
“I agree.” Father Joe leaned forward. “I haven’t met Ms. Anderson, but I’ve heard about her. One of the women in my congregation mentioned taking some classes at her shop. Would you like to approach her, Matt?”
“I’ll be happy to lay the groundwork. But I think the appeal would be more effective coming from Captain Turner.” The man opened a file and removed a letter. A copy of the first one he’d sent to Father Joe, Luke noted. “Father Joe shared your initial query letter with all of us. It was quite moving. No one would be able to speak as passionately—or convincingly—as you about how your friendship with Carlos motivated you to take this on. If I set up a meeting with Kelsey, would you be willing to pitch your idea and solicit her involvement?”
“That’s just the kind of thing I was hoping to do while I’m here.” Luke encompassed the group as he spoke. “If any of you want me to meet with possible supporters, I’m happy to do so. And Ms. Anderson sounds like the perfect person to talk with first.”
By the time the meeting broke up half an hour later, the board had compiled a list of resources, from the owner of the piece of property they hoped would someday be the site of the youth center, to the mayor of Saugatuck, to the manager of the hotel where Carlos had worked during his high school years.
As Father Joe led him out after all the others had left, the pastor paused in the small foyer, a twinkle in his eye. “I hope you weren’t planning too much R & R during your visit to Michigan. With the to-do list we’ve already compiled, you won’t have a lot of downtime. We clerics are great delegators, you know.”
The whisper of a smile tugged at Luke’s lips. “That’s okay. I didn’t come here to play.”
“Good thing.” The man studied him, his hand on the knob. “Not many people would take on a selfless job like this, Luke. I know you and Carlos worked together, and I understand that strong friendships can be forged on the battlefield. But I can’t help thinking there’s more driving you to take on this project.”
Doing his best to keep his features neutral, Luke clenched his fingers around the handle of his briefcase. “I saw a lot of death overseas, Father. A lot of wasted potential. A lot of soldiers whose dreams died when they did. I can’t change that. But it is within my power to make one man’s dream come true. It seemed like a fitting way to end my military career.”
“Ah. Closure.” The older man nodded. “Well, you picked a worthy dream to pursue. And a fine young man to honor.”
“The best.” Luke’s voice hoarsened, and he cleared his throat.
Father Joe opened the door and scanned the blue sky, giving Luke a chance to regain his composure. “What a beautiful day. Why don’t you take advantage of it before Matthew calls and sends you off to see Kelsey Anderson?”
“I think I’ll do that.” Luke stepped past him, then turned to shake his hand. “Thank you for coordinating this.”
“The thanks are all ours.” The man clasped Luke’s hand within both of his. “God go with you, Luke.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“You may. He never fails those who put their trust in Him.”
As Luke strode toward his rental car, he raised his eyes to the heavens above the church, tracing the outline of the cross that soared toward the sky. God had gone with him so far. While many of his comrades had lost their faith amid the carnage of war, his had held fast for years. But finally, bone-weary from the constant onslaught of senseless death and man’s inhumanity to man, his faith had faltered, too.
In the end, though, God had sent Carlos into his life. A young man whose heart burned with love for the Lord. Who had reminded him that in the midst of trauma and tragedy, good survived. Hope endured. Dreams flourished. Working with him day after day, watching him give tirelessly with a compassion that put the Good Samaritan to shame, had reinvigorated Luke’s own faith.
Even as he lay dying, the young medic had been a source of inspiration. His eyes had been filled with the kind of peace that only comes from knowing you’ve done your best to follow the precepts of the Lord and are ready to meet Him face-to-face. His one regret, he’d told Luke, was that his dream to help young people back home would never be realized.
As he’d held the young man’s hand, watching his life slip away while artillery shells burst around them, Luke had choked out a promise that his dream wouldn’t die.
Gratitude had smoothed the lines of pain from Carlos’s face, and he’d summoned up the last of his strength to speak. When Luke leaned close, he’d whispered, “Thank you.”
And then the medic had tightened his grip and uttered two short sentences Luke would never forget.
“Let not your heart be troubled, my friend. God will bring good from this.”
Moments later, Carlos’s hand had grown slack in his.
The outline of the soaring cross blurred, and Luke blinked to clear his vision. His faith wasn’t as strong as Carlos’s. Especially after ten brutal years of treating battlefield injuries. But he intended to make certain at least one good thing came from the young man’s death.
And as he unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel, he renewed the vow he’d made that day in Afghanistan. Before he left Michigan in six weeks, the youth center Carlos had dreamed of would be well on its way to becoming a reality.
Whatever it took.
Chapter Three
The bell over the front door of the shop jingled behind her, and Kelsey checked her watch as she typed the final figures into the spreadsheet on the computer. Ten o’clock. On the dot. It had to be the army doctor her pastor had called about yesterday. He’d said the man would stop by around ten. And the military was nothing if not regimented.
“Give me one sec.” She threw the comment over her shoulder as she hit Save. She wasn’t thrilled about dusting off her PR skills or opening the door to her old life, but it was hard to say no to a godly man like Reverend Howard. And the youth center project did sound worthwhile. Besides, it wouldn’t kill her to consult with the doctor for an hour, considering the amount of time he was investing.
Summoning up a smile, she swung around in her chair. “I’m sorry to keep you wai—”
The breath whooshed out of her lungs.
Her new neighbor stood six feet away. The one with the broad shoulders and impressive biceps.
Not that his biceps were on display today. Instead of a chest-hugging T-shirt and shorts, he was wearing a sport coat with a subtle herringbone pattern, tan slacks and spit-and-polished dress shoes. He looked professional. Reputable. Honorable.
And as stunned as she was.
“Kelsey Anderson?”
She opened her mouth to respond.
Nothing came out.
No surprise there. It was hard enough to breathe, let alone speak, with the man towering over her. Making her feel small. Vulnerable. Powerless.
“Well…good morning! We don’t often have gentlemen venture into our establishments.”
At Dorothy’s cheerful welcome, the man turned. Giving Kelsey a chance to catch her breath.
Thank You, Lord!
Her shop mate was still hidden from Kelsey’s view by the man’s tall form, but her words registered loud and clear. “Dorothy Martin. I own Tea for Two.” A hand shot out to gesture toward the other side of the shop. “You must be the army captain Kelsey told me about. I was just making a tea and scones delivery to my lovely neighbor. She must be in the back. I’ll be happy to get her…”
Kelsey gripped the arms of her chair and struggled to her feet. At the squeak of her chair, Dorothy peeked around the visitor.
“Oh. There you are, my dear. Did I interrupt a conversation?”
“No. I just arrived. And I’m afraid I startled Ms. Anderson.” The army doctor moved toward her and extended his hand. “Luke Turner.”
Kelsey inched closer, wiping her palm on her slacks before she placed her fingers in his. As their hands connected, he flicked a quick glance down.
“The burn seems to be healing well.”
Dorothy tipped her head and set the tea and scones on the counter. “You two have met before?”
Kelsey tugged her hand free and took a step back. “Yes. Captain—Doctor—Turner is the new neighbor I mentioned to you.” She tried to keep her inflection neutral, but Dorothy’s sharp look told her the other woman had picked up her nervousness.
The slight narrowing of Luke Turner’s eyes told her he had, too.
“My goodness!” Dorothy’s hand fluttered to her chest. “What an odd coincidence!” She motioned toward the snack she’d delivered and raised an eyebrow at Kelsey. “If you’d like to talk in the tearoom, I could bring a pot out for you to share.”
Kelsey thanked her with her eyes. The closer she was to her dear friend, the safer she’d feel.
“That would be lovely. Thank you, Dorothy.” She inclined her head toward the other half of the shop and addressed Luke. “It will be more comfortable to have our discussion over there.”
As she grabbed a pen and notebook off her desk, he surveyed the sturdy chairs around the table in the corner where she held classes. In truth, they would better suit his tall frame. He’d be more comfortable here. But much to her relief, he followed her to the other side without comment.
“You two go right ahead with your business while I put on a pot of tea.” Dorothy deposited Kelsey’s scones and china cup on a table for two, brushed a miniscule speck off the pristine white cloth, and hurried toward the kitchen.
Pulling out one of the dainty chairs, Luke held it while Kelsey sat. Then he took the one on the opposite side of the table. The furniture seemed undersized to his large frame, and Kelsey felt foolish for insisting they move their discussion to this side of the shop.
Best to dive in so he could be on his way as quickly as possible.
“Reverend Howard was very enthusiastic about your project when he called.” She tried for a conversational tone, but her voice came out sounding stiff.
Luke regarded her across the snowy expanse of linen, the expression in his dark brown eyes unreadable. “Before we get to that, may I ask you a question?”
A caution bell rang in her mind. “About what?”
“About why I make you nervous.”
She swallowed. “You don’t make me nervous.”
Arching his eyebrows, he inspected the plate in front of her.
She looked down. A pile of crumbs was all that was left of the scone she’d pulverized.
Warmth rose to her cheeks, and she clasped her hands in her lap. It was silly to deny the obvious. But neither was she about to explain her reaction to this stranger.
When the silence between them lengthened, Luke rested his elbows on the table, steepled his fingers and frowned. “Have we ever met before that day on the beach, Ms. Anderson?”
“No.”
“Then I must have done something to offend—or alarm—you during our short acquaintance.”
“No. You haven’t.” She took a deep breath. “This isn’t a personal issue, Captain—Doctor—which do you prefer?”
“I prefer Luke.” He pinned her with an intent gaze and let a few beats of silence tick by. “Let me be honest. This youth center is too important to fall victim to a personality…quirk—for want of a better term. We need someone with your skills to help us build public awareness, but if you don’t think we can work together, tell me now and I’ll ask the board to suggest someone else.”
Taken aback by his candor, Kelsey lifted her cup with shaky fingers and took a sip of tea. “You don’t mince words, do you?”
“There’s no time for indecision on the battlefield, Ms. Anderson. Nor do I have time to waste during my stay here. There’s a lot to be done in six weeks.”
Kelsey heard the foundation of steel under what sounded like a very faint Southern drawl. Luke Turner, it seemed, was a cut-to-the-chase kind of man, with little patience for indecisiveness.
“It must be nice to always be so certain about decisions.”
She hadn’t meant to speak that thought. Especially in a tone that was both wistful and reproachful. And the man across from her seemed as surprised by it as she was.
“I’m not certain how to interpret that.” A defensive note crept into his voice.
“Here you go. A nice pot of tea and some more scones.” Dorothy pushed through the door from the kitchen and hurried over with a laden tray. Luke rose and took it from her while she transferred the items to the table. “Thank you, young man. Such nice manners. A true Southern gentleman. That is a Southern accent I detect, isn’t it?”
He smiled at her. “You have a good ear. I’ve been gone a long time, but I was born and raised in Atlanta.”
“A fine city. Well, you two go right ahead with your chat. I’ll be busy in the kitchen until my guests start arriving at eleven, but you just call out if you need anything and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
The latter remark was directed to Kelsey, and she sent the older woman a quick smile of thanks.
When the door swung shut behind Dorothy, Kelsey turned her attention to the army doctor. Picking up the teapot, she filled his cup. “For the record, I never let personal feelings get in the way of a job. Now, in the interest of not wasting your time, why don’t you tell me a little about the project so I can see if it’s a good fit with my skills? Reverend Howard didn’t give me many details. All he said was that you became friends with a medical corpsman from this area, and after he was killed you decided to spearhead an effort to build a youth center here in his honor, as part of the Interdenominational Youth Fellowship program.”
“That about sums it up.”
Kelsey set the teapot back on the table. Her pastor had also told her Luke Turner was passionate about the project. But she was picking up more caution than passion.
Her fault, no doubt. She’d treated him with nothing but suspicion and animosity in their few encounters. Yet from everything she’d heard and seen, he appeared to be a principled, compassionate…safe man. What could she have to fear from a former army doctor who was backed by a board of clergymen?
She forced herself to meet his eyes. “Captain Turner, I—”
“Luke.”
“Luke.” She moistened her lips. “The truth is, I’m a bit battle-scarred myself. And overly wary. I apologize if I’ve offended you. Maybe we should start over.”
He gave a slow nod and lifted his cup. “I’ll drink to that.”
Following his lead, she picked up her cup, clinked it with his and took a sip. He did, too—then grimaced.
A smile tugged at her lips. “Not a tea drinker?”
One side of his mouth hitched up and he checked over his shoulder. “I don’t want to offend Ms. Martin, but no. I like coffee. Strong and black. Just like Carlos did.” His lips flattened.
“Would you mind telling me a little about him?”
At her quiet request, Luke stared into his tea. “We worked together for six months during my last deployment. I dealt with a lot of medics through the years, but Carlos was special. He was only twenty-two, but he had an amazing bedside manner. With just a look or a touch, he could instill trust and calm even in the most restless patient. After he got out, he wanted to be a paramedic. He would have been a good one.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he took another sip of the tea he didn’t want.
“Carlos grew up in Saugatuck. His mother was unmarried, and she went to her grave without revealing the name of his father. Carlos was only five when she died, and his grandmother took him in. They were poor, and he resented that—among other things. He got in with the wrong crowd in his freshman year of high school, and according to him, he gave his grandmother a lot of grief.
“But she was determined to straighten him out. So, after he was picked up on a minor shoplifting charge, she got together with the police chief and the shop owner, who were personal friends, and they worked out a deal. If he assisted Father Joe with the Interdenominational Youth Fellowship program for six months, the charges would be dropped.”
“How did that go over with him?” Kelsey took a bite of her still-intact scone.
Luke’s lips twitched. “Not well, according to Carlos. He agreed, but only under duress. However, much to his surprise, he liked the group—and the new pastor at his church. Father Joe became the father figure he never had. According to Carlos, Father Joe and the youth program turned his life around. Once he got out of the army and established his career, he wanted to start a fundraising drive to build a youth center for the program. A permanent place, where young people could gather instead of having to move from church hall to church hall.”
“And when he died, you took that project on.”
“Yes.”
She studied him. “That’s quite a commitment.”
Luke dismissed her comment with a shrug. “I needed some time to decompress from my deployment anyway. And this is a worthwhile project. It’s a way to honor not just Carlos, but all the other young men and women who’ve given their lives in the line of duty. Whose dreams died with them. A lot of them passed through my hands. There were so many we couldn’t save….” His words trailed off, and Kelsey saw a muscle twitch in his cheek.
The sudden pressure in her throat took Kelsey by surprise. She pushed her plate aside, folded her arms on the table and gave Luke a steady look. “Okay, you’ve convinced me it’s a worthy project. And I’m comfortable we can work together.” Not quite true, but she’d get past that. “Why don’t you fill me in on the ideas you discussed at the board meeting yesterday, and I’ll get back to you tomorrow with some initial thoughts.”
He regarded her for a moment, his gaze measuring, and then a subtle warmth softened his eyes. “Fair enough.”
For the next fifteen minutes, he gave her a rapid-fire summary as she scribbled notes. Her tea grew cold, but her heart warmed as the passion Reverend Howard had talked of intensified, convincing her Luke had, indeed, taken on Carlos’s dream as if it were his own.
When he finished, she flexed her hand and smiled at the page she’d filled. “There’s certainly plenty here to work with. I should have no trouble compiling some preliminary publicity ideas by tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” He smiled at her, and for some reason the tearoom suddenly felt too warm. “Now I’ve taken up enough of your time for one day.” Setting his napkin on the table, he rose and extended his hand. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
She stood, too. His fingers engulfed hers in a strong grip. “It’s hard to say no to Reverend Howard.”
“Father Joe’s the same way.” He released her hand. “We’ll have to employ their persuasive skills in our fundraising efforts.”
She grinned. “True. Few people do a better job of asking for money than the clergy.”
Eyes glinting with amusement, he pulled a small notebook and pen from his jacket pocket, then bent down and jotted a number with bold strokes. A faint whiff of his appealing, rugged aftershave tickled her nose, and she found herself fighting a temptation to lean closer.
Thrown by the impulse, she gripped the back of her chair and held on tight.
He tore the small sheet of paper from the notebook and handed it to her. “That’s my cell number. Why don’t you call me when you’re ready to continue our discussion?”
His lean fingers brushed hers, and her heart skipped a beat—then lurched into double time.
What in the world was going on?
“Kelsey?”
At his concerned query, she somehow managed to drag her lips into the semblance of a smile. “Yes. Good. I’ll call you.”
She tried not to squirm under his discerning perusal.
“Okay.” He pocketed his notebook and pen. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
With that, he strode toward the front door and disappeared to the accompaniment of a cheery jingle.
Kelsey groped for the edge of the table and sank into the chair she’d vacated, trying to get her pulse under control.
This was not good.
For the past seven months she’d coped with mild panic attacks in the presence of powerful men. She was used to the shakiness. The feeling of being off balance. The adrenaline surge.
This time, however, her reaction hadn’t been caused by fear, but by an equally unsettling emotion. Attraction.
Kelsey closed her eyes and exhaled. No doubt Dr. Walters would call this progress and be pleased. But Kelsey wasn’t. Because the man in question was here for a very short time on a mission that did not include romance.
Rising, she steadied herself on the edge of the table and ran a finger over the soft fabric that covered the scar on her shoulder. She couldn’t let this flicker of attraction get out of hand. If she did, it could lead to heartbreak. And scars of a different kind.
And she’d already had enough trauma to last a lifetime.
Chapter Four
Luke paused at the top of the long flight of stairs that led to the lake, determined to finally watch a sunset from the beach. Based on the position of the yellow orb, he still had a good hour before it hit the horizon. And that was okay. He’d have plenty of time to eat the sandwich and chips he’d picked up in Saugatuck after his productive meeting with Dennis Lawson, the manager of the hotel where Carlos had worked during his high school years.
He drew in a lungful of fresh air, letting the stillness seep into his pores. Only after arriving in Pier Cove had he realized how parched his soul had been for peace and quiet—rare commodities in his prior life.
And they were his number-one priority for tonight.
Hoisting his beach chair to his shoulder, he started down the steep flight, juggling a cardboard tray containing a cup of coffee and a white deli bag in one hand while keeping a tight grip on the railing with the other.
Although his schedule today had been a cakewalk compared to the grueling pace and intensity of battlefield medicine, he was beat. Tension was so much a part of his life, it was difficult to relax. And that led to soul-deep weariness. The kind that sets in after too much stress over too much time. Today’s meetings, which had all involved baring his soul a little beyond his comfort zone, hadn’t helped, either. Dennis, as well as the mayor and the owner of the land the youth program hoped to buy, had all pressed for details about his experiences with Carlos.
His encounter with his neighbor this morning had also been taxing. In the beginning, anyway. At least they’d parted on better terms after their little tête-à -tête over tea. But she was the most inscrutable female he’d ever met.
Midway down, Luke paused on the landing to readjust his chair as he thought back over their conversation. He had no idea what several of her remarks had meant. Like the one about decisiveness. Had it been prompted by criticism or envy? And what had the comment about being battle-scarred meant? Was it related to the actual physical scar near her collarbone—or was she referring to emotional trauma?
With a shake of his head, he continued to the bottom, then pushed his way through the chest-high beach grass toward the open strip of sand. He was not going to let thoughts of his enigmatic neighbor ruin his evening. Whatever her problems, he had other things to—
His step faltered as he emerged from the grass.
The mystery woman was seated twenty feet away on the beach.
Wonderful.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, he sized up the situation. She’d chosen a spot a little to the right of the position she’d occupied on Saturday, angled away from the path. Like him, she was dressed in jeans. A loose fitting knit top disguised her pregnancy, and a jacket rested on the sand beside her, as did an insulated mug with a lid. She was hatless tonight, and the wind was ruffling her silky blond hair as she focused on a pad of paper in her lap.
In the distance, a family group was gathered around a bonfire. But she seemed as oblivious to their presence as she was to his.
Good. He hoped she stayed that way.
Skirting the beach grass, he worked his way down the sand in the other direction, until a good fifty feet separated them. While he opened his chair, sat and retrieved his sandwich from the white bag, he kept an eye on his neighbor. If he was lucky, she wouldn’t notice him until she was ready to leave.
Unfortunately, his luck didn’t hold that long. As he started on the second half of his turkey sandwich, she looked toward the horizon. A few seconds later, she turned her head in his direction.
And froze.
Luke stopped chewing and forced himself to raise a hand in greeting, as the manners his mother had instilled in him kicked in.
For a moment, he thought she was going to ignore him. Truth be told, he hoped she would. Then he could focus on the sunset in peace.
Instead, much to his surprise, she not only returned his wave, she called out to him. Although he strained to hear her words, the wind tossed them the other way, rendering them inaudible. Pointing to his ear, he shook his head.
She flipped her hand, as if to say forget it, and went back to her notepad.
Excellent. A reprieve.
He took another bite of his sandwich. Tried to focus on the horizon. But his gaze kept wandering back to his neighbor. There was something poignant and lonely about the solitary woman on the long stretch of windswept beach. The solitary pregnant woman. Poignant enough to prod him to his feet and push him toward her. His innate humanitarian instincts and sense of Christian charity gave him no option. Even if the selfish part of him said he deserved some time alone, he couldn’t ignore her.
He called out as he approached, determined not to startle her this time. “The wind’s blowing the wrong direction. I couldn’t hear what you said a minute ago.”
The setting sun cast a golden glow over her complexion, gilding the ends of her long eyelashes and highlighting her model-quality cheekbones as she looked his way in surprise. The effect was so mesmerizing he had to force himself to pay attention to her words instead of her face.
“It wasn’t important enough to interrupt your dinner.” She gestured to the half sandwich in his hand.
He shrugged. “Not much to interrupt.”
“I only said it was a beautiful evening. And that we should be in for a spectacular sunset.”
He watched her lips as she spoke. They were nice lips. Full and soft and…
Luke cleared his throat. Shifted his attention to the horizon. Tried to focus on the clouds massing in the distance instead of on the image of her lips.
It didn’t work.
How weird was that?
Fisting his free hand on his hip, he frowned at the view, trying to make sense of his reaction. He hardly knew Kelsey Anderson. Nor did his neighbor seem interested in changing that situation. Plus, the woman was pregnant. Maybe married. And she had baggage. Lots of it, he suspected.
There could be only one explanation for the unexpected tingle of attraction he’d just felt.
It had been way too long since he’d had a real date.
What else could it be?
He heard her stir behind him. No doubt wondering why he hadn’t responded to her comment.
Say something, Turner.
“Yeah. I’ve been looking forward to my first sunset on the beach.”
He pasted on a smile and forced himself to turn back to her—just as the capricious wind snatched a loose sheet of paper off her lap.
Luke took off after it, snagging it as it somersaulted down the beach. Sandwich still in one hand, he glanced at the neat, precise handwriting and the bullet-point outline Kelsey had been compiling.
A list of PR initiatives for the youth center project.
He scanned it as he retraced his steps. “Looks like you’ve been putting some serious thought into this.”
She took the paper and slipped it into the middle of the tablet on her lap. “I promised you some suggestions tomorrow. I’m teaching a class in the morning, so tonight was my best chance to work on them. Besides, I get my most creative ideas here anyway.”
He surveyed the landscape. “I can see why. And from the quick glimpse I got of your notes, it seems to have been a productive session. So what’s your number-one recommendation?”
“Media interviews. If you’re willing.”
“Me?” His eyebrows rose.
“You have a great personal story to tell that will connect with potential donors and supporters.”
“This is supposed to be about Carlos.”
“It is.” She leaned forward, her expression earnest. “And who better to tell the world about him than the man who worked alongside him on the battlefield? Who saw the transforming effect the youth fellowship had on his life. Who was so moved himself by Carlos’s dream to help other young people benefit from that same program that he took on the task of turning the young medic’s dream into reality, as a tribute to him.”
He stared at her. With her defenses down, her green eyes flashing with enthusiasm and passion, Kelsey Anderson was stunning.
Wow.
The spark of attraction flared again, and Luke took a deep breath. Let it out.
Not part of the agenda, Turner.
“You’re good.” He strove for a businesslike tone. “If I wasn’t already spearheading this campaign, I’d be ready to sign on the dotted line.”
His praise brought a becoming flush to her cheeks, and she leaned back in her chair. “Creating buy-in and shaping public opinion was my job for a long time.”
“And now you make quilts.” Why? Luke didn’t voice that question. But there was a story here. One he wanted to hear.
“And now I make quilts.” She ignored his implied query, her unwavering gaze telling him to back off.
He did. For now. Afraid she’d retreat if he didn’t.
“So what other ideas have you jotted down there?” Again, he gestured to the hidden sheet of paper.
She hesitated, then drew it out. “I’m not ready to talk about this in detail yet, but if you want to pull your chair over, I can give you a few highlights.”
“Sold. I’ll be right back.”
As he retrieved his chair and the rest of his dinner, Luke didn’t waste time analyzing his sudden change of heart about avoiding his neighbor. The reason was obvious. A pretty woman plus a guy who’d gone too long without a date added up to hormones. Nothing more. And there was no harm in enjoying the little flicker of attraction for a few minutes.
She took a sip out of her mug as he set up his chair beside her, and he tipped his head toward it. “More tea?”
“No. I get more than enough of the decaf and herbal versions at the shop. This is milk.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I feel about it the way you feel about tea.”
He didn’t need to ask why she was drinking it.
“When is the baby due?” He lowered himself into his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles.
Her lips flattened, telling him two things. This wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss. And her feelings about her pregnancy were mixed, at best.
A reaction that only raised more questions.
“September fifteenth.” She gestured to the tablet. “We’d better talk about this before we lose the light.”
Luke got the clue and did his best to switch gears. “Okay. I’m ready.”
As she laid out her recommendations, he continued eating his sandwich.
In addition to media interviews, she’d come up with a dozen other ideas to garner public support and spread the word about the project, including a fundraising dinner, speaking engagements at local organizations, and a clever way to generate positive publicity for companies who donated goods to the cause, creating a win-win scenario.
When she finished, he shook his head. “All I can say is, you must have been very good at what you did in the corporate world.”
Her cheeks pinkened as she slipped the sheet of paper back into the lined tablet and drained her mug. “It’s not difficult to be successful when your job is your life. But that’s not the healthiest way to live.”
“Is that why you left? To get more balance?”
She bent down and settled the mug in the sand, hiding her face from his view. “Let’s just say circumstances helped me realize I needed to realign my priorities. Spectacular sunset, isn’t it?”
Luke checked out the sky. The sun had dipped to the horizon, edging the clouds with gold and tinting the sky—and the beach—pink. It was spectacular. But he was more interested in the woman beside him.
“Yeah. Fabulous.” Luke leaned back in his chair, out of her line of sight, and studied her. The setting sun continued to cast a warm glow on her profile. But it also highlighted the faint lines at the corners of her eyes that spoke of weariness and worry. Apparently, realigning her priorities hadn’t erased either of those from her life. Why not? And what “circumstances” had made her ditch the fast track in the corporate world and move to her grandmother’s cottage to make quilts? Where did the absent father of her baby fit into the picture?
The more he learned about Kelsey Anderson, the more intrigued he became.
Suddenly, as if sensing his scrutiny, she turned her head.
He transferred his attention to the sky at once. “I’m glad I didn’t miss this.”
“It beats anything on TV.” With one more glance at the sky, she tucked her tablet under her arm and swung her legs to the side of the chair. “I’d stay to the end, but navigating those steps is tricky enough when the sun is shining. It’s downright dangerous in the dark.” Her voice sounded nervous, as if she’d once more wrapped herself in a cloak of caution.
As she struggled to extricate herself from the low-slung chair, Luke rose and held out a hand.
“You may need to switch to a regular lawn chair soon.” He kept his tone light, hoping she’d accept his help. “They’re a lot higher off the ground.”
He waited while she considered his hand—and let out a sigh of relief when she took it. He didn’t relinquish his hold until he was certain she was steady on the shifting sand.
“Thanks.” She sounded a little breathless as she tugged her fingers free and reached down to fold up her chair and snag her jacket off the sand.
As it had the day of the lightbulb incident, her top slid off her shoulder, revealing the jagged scar near her collarbone. She tugged it back into position before he got a good look, but the quick glance she darted his way told him she was afraid he’d seen it. And was worried he might ask more questions.
He had plenty of those. But voicing them wouldn’t be smart. If he wanted to know Kelsey’s secrets, he’d have to give her time to get comfortable with him. To learn she could trust him.
Unfortunately, given her extreme wariness, that could take a whole lot longer than the six weeks he’d be in Michigan.
“I’ll finish up my recommendation tonight and give you a clean copy tomorrow, if that’s okay.” She hoisted her chair onto her shoulder.
“Sure. Fine.”
She started toward the path through the grass, and he fell into step beside her. “Why don’t you let me carry that stuff up for you? It would be easy to trip in the dark, and that wouldn’t do either of you any good.”
Her step slowed as she eyed the steep flight of stairs ahead. “I’ve managed fine by myself so far.”
“Things are only going to get tougher as you get bigger. As a doctor, I recommend you take whatever unsolicited help you can get. Unless you already have someone lined up to do the heavy stuff.”
It was a backdoor way to confirm the baby’s father wasn’t around—and he doubted it would work.
But much to his surprise, it did.
“My sister will come if I decide—if I need help after the baby is born.”
So the baby’s father wasn’t part of Kelsey’s life. And wouldn’t be in the future.
Was he the source of her scar? Had she been in an abusive relationship?
The notion didn’t sit well with him.
“Okay. Thanks for the offer.” Kelsey handed over her chair, interrupting his train of thought.
“Smart decision.” He summoned up a grin. “I may be a doctor, but I don’t want to have to treat a sprained ankle—or worse—while I’m here. Give me a sec.”
He went back to retrieve his own chair, taking her arm as they traversed the uneven sand. At the narrow path through the grass, he let her precede him, following close behind her as she slowly made her way up the stairs.
“Believe it or not, I used to be…in great shape.” She huffed out the comment as they reached the top.
Despite the dim light, he could tell her cheeks were flushed from the exertion.
“I expect you still are. Forty steps would make anyone breathe harder.”
“They don’t seem to have taxed your lungs.”
“They would have if I’d been carrying an extra fifteen or twenty pounds.” He tapped her chair, still slung over his shoulder. “Would you like me to take this over to your porch?”
“No. Thank you.” She reached for it. “I can manage fine on flat ground. Good night.” Gripping the chair in one hand, she crossed the lawn and disappeared through the trees that separated their property.
Luke stayed where he was until he saw the light in her kitchen flick on through the leafy branches. Then he turned toward the fading sunset. A few minutes ago, the sky had been a glorious palette of brilliant colors, the water alive with ethereal light. Now the heavens had faded to a dull, uninteresting gray, robbing the lake of its shimmering incandescence and leaving ominous, leaden shadows in its wake.
The change had been startling. And swift.
Though Luke had learned very little about Kelsey Anderson since their first encounter, he was beginning to sense the changes in her life had been equally startling. And swift.
But what had prompted them? And was her new life in isolated Pier Cove a permanent change? Or had she sought temporary refuge here to protect herself—and her unborn child?
Luke shook his head and lifted his free hand to massage his neck. He didn’t want complications on this trip. The task he’d set himself was difficult enough. Worrying about his neighbor wasn’t part of the plan. Nor would she welcome his concern if he expressed it.
Yet he wasn’t the type to walk away from people in need. That was why he’d become a doctor. Why he’d done more than his share of gritty, heartbreaking work near the front lines. Why he’d promised a medic he’d create the young man’s legacy in his stead.
But it was hard to help people who didn’t want help. And maybe he wasn’t supposed to help Kelsey. Maybe he was supposed to let this go.
Except he knew about loneliness. And disillusion. And anguish. He’d lived through all of them overseas. And Kelsey was living through them now. Every one of those emotions was reflected in the clear, green depths of her troubled eyes.
Tipping his head back, he looked toward the heavens, where stars were just beginning to peek out.
Lord, You led me here. For a mission I thought was clear. If You have another job in mind for me, would You let me know? Soon? And in the meantime, please let Kelsey feel Your healing presence. Because I have a feeling she’s in desperate need of some divine guidance and a healthy dose of TLC.
Chapter Five
“Ah, Kelsey! What a nice surprise!”
At Reverend Howard’s greeting, Kelsey looked up from her book and watched the middle-aged pastor cross the grass with his typical spry gait. Since he knew she often walked down to this small park in Douglas at lunchtime, his comment about being surprised seemed a bit odd.
Her curiosity piqued, she gestured to the facing seat in the double-sided swing she’d claimed on the edge of Kalamazoo Lake. “It’s nice to see you, Reverend. Won’t you join me?”
“Thank you. I will.” He settled in across from her. “So what are you reading this fine day?”
She angled the book of baby names toward him.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’ve reached a decision?”
With a sigh, she rested her hand on her stomach and shook her head. “No. I’m just trying to be prepared for all contingencies.”
“God will give you the answer in His time.”
“The trouble is, I’m running out of time.”
“You still have two months. And if you decide to give up the baby for adoption, all the arrangements are in place with the agency I contacted on your behalf. Try not to let the pressure get to you.”
“It’s hard not to, the way the weeks are flying by.” She ran a finger down the spine of the book. “You know, a year ago, if someone had predicted that in twelve months I’d be pregnant, living in Gram’s cottage and making quilts for a living, I’d have thought they were crazy. I was totally focused on my goal of being a vice president by the time I was forty.” She shook her head. “So much for plans.”
“Is your new life losing its luster?”
“Not at all. I don’t miss the corporate rat race one iota. I may not make the big bucks anymore, but my life is more in balance and the creative work feeds my soul. I’m just sorry it took such a traumatic wake-up call for me to see the light.” The baby kicked, and she touched her stomach. “I can even have a family if I want one.”
“Raising a child alone is difficult, Kelsey. Especially under your circumstances.”
At the minister’s quiet comment, a pang echoed in her heart. They’d had similar discussions several times over the past few months, though he’d never before been as direct.
“Don’t you think I’m up to it?”
“I think you are a very strong woman who can achieve whatever you set out to accomplish. Your success in the corporate world proves that. So does your decision to change your life in the face of opposition from family and coworkers. But this decision isn’t just about you. It’s also about what’s best for your child. He or she deserves unconditional love, Kelsey.”
“You don’t think I can offer that?”
“Only you can answer that question. No one would blame you if you couldn’t.”
Tears pricked Kelsey’s eyes, and she looked over the sparkling water, blinking them away. “I didn’t think I could in the beginning. I wanted nothing to do with this baby. But now…” Her hand moved over her stomach. “I’ve felt him or her kick. I’ve seen the ultrasounds. I’ve heard the heartbeat. This child is part of me, Reverend. How can I give away part of myself?”
“I know it’s a very, very difficult decision, Kelsey. One best made after much prayer. But whatever you decide, you’ve already done the noble thing by carrying the child to term. That’s more than most people would expect.”
Her jaw stiffened in resolution. “There was never a question in my mind about that.”
“I admire the strength of your convictions. And you’ll continue to be in my prayers as you wrestle with your decision.” He leaned over and patted her hand. “Now I’ll continue my constitutional, as my grandfather called it. A walk is good for body and soul, and a stroll through Douglas is always pleasant when business brings me here.”
“I agree. Walking has become the centerpiece of my exercise program.” Even after the baby was born, it would remain so. Kelsey had no further interest in jogging.
“Good, good.” He slid out of the swing, but remained beside it, hands clasped behind him. “By the way, I spoke with Captain Turner this morning. He said you had a productive meeting yesterday. Two meetings, in fact.”
Kelsey settled back in the swing. Now they were getting to the real reason for his noontime constitutional.
“Yes. He came by the shop. And then I ran into him on the beach near my cottage. Did he tell you we’re neighbors?”
“He did. What a remarkable coincidence. But not a favorable one for you, he seems to think. I got the feeling he’s concerned that his presence has been disruptive for you.”
“It has been unsettling. As far back as I can remember, I’ve felt safe in Gram’s cottage and on her beach. Pier Cove always seemed untouched by the world. Now, with a lone male so close by…” She let her voice trail off.
“Given your recent experience, I can understand how that would make you uneasy. But the captain strikes me as a man of honor and integrity. Someone to be trusted, not feared.”
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