Summer With The Marine (Blue Bay Beach Reads Book 1)

by Ellie Hall

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “We haven’t talked in years.” Ford shook his head.

  The wind picked up or she winced, he wasn’t sure. He had a habit of leaving the past behind.

  “How about your father?” she asked.

  “I wish I had better news. He had liver disease and passed a few months ago. I was able to see him once more before—”

  Eisley’s hand landed on his forearm.

  The connection caused his pulse to double.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Her soft palm rooted him when all he wanted to do was jump to his feet and pound something, channel his feelings somewhere. The counselor told him to get a heavy bag and take up meditation. He’d done both and believe it or not, it helped. The breathing did too. So did Eisley.

  “Did your dad ever turn up?” he asked. It was a bold question, but one that had come to be a sort of repartee between them after her cat had gone missing. Cosmo returned. Her father didn’t, but he supposed it was a way for her to keep the hope alive.

  “No, but you did. You turned up.”

  Ford nearly fell over in the sand.

  “I won’t lie. I’m upset with you. But I’m willing to listen to what you have to say.” She took another French fry.

  Hope sparked in him as well then quickly fizzled as the warm salt water reached his toes on an incoming wave.

  They scooted back away from the tide. He rested his elbows on his bent knees. She seemed so small next to him. He wanted to tug her close and protect her from what he knew he needed to share.

  Chapter 5

  Eisley

  “So where have you been, Ford?” Eisley asked. She’d taken the risk meeting him. She’d hardly slept the night before. Her stomach was in knots and she’d made up a silly excuse about exploring the town so her mother wouldn’t meddle. She wasn’t ready to answer what were sure to be many questions from Diana—not that she even had the answers.

  There was no way to hide the hulk—at least Ford wasn’t green, but he was a dead ringer for the actor who played Captain America and if the woman who was fawning over him when Eisley arrived at the beach was any indication, it wouldn’t take long for word to spread. She needed to hear the truth from him first.

  Her mother wasn’t nosy per se, but had a long neck and didn’t take any pains to ignore the neighborhood gossip. At least that’s how it was when they’d still lived in New Jersey. Blue Bay Beach was a small community and likely there was already talk about how the new waitress asked out the hunky guy with the scar on his cheek.

  Ford took a long time to answer. First staring at his hands and then the ocean. He sighed.

  “Where have I been? I’ve been in the Middle East, Quantico, Lejeune, Parris Island, and a few other places besides.” He brushed his hands together and dipped his head before turning to face her before continuing.

  Her gaze caught on the scar. It added to his rugged masculinity and also suggested his story would take longer than an afternoon to tell.

  “I’ve been a few tight spots as well.”

  Her patience wore thin. She wanted him to get to the point—at least insofar as it related to their broken friendship.

  He swallowed and locked her eyes with his as though forcing himself to say whatever was so difficult. They’d once been able to talk about anything—including her missing-in-action father and his dead mother.

  “A little more than three years ago, I met a woman. We had a quick—and looking back, terrible—relationship. If you could call it that. We got married. I was deployed. Later, when I got back stateside, there was an envelope on the table. The house was otherwise empty. It was as I’d feared. She’d divorced me less than a year after we’d wed and left without a trace.” His words were clipped and the muscle in his jaw pulsed.

  “You said you were afraid? You’re Ford Armstrong. The only thing you were afraid of was swallowing watermelon seeds,” she said to lighten the mood. She hated seeing him so torn up.

  The comment referred to their shared childhood and brought a faint smile to his lips. “During training, I ate ninety-nine watermelon seeds.”

  “What?” Her stomach churned at the thought of growing a watermelon in her belly even though she knew it was something the kids on their old street made up to freak them out.

  “It was a bet.”

  “To eat ninety-nine watermelon seeds? That’s cruel. Did you win the bet? Was it worth it?”

  “I lost the bet because I was supposed to eat one hundred seeds. But as I brought the last one to my mouth, I thought of you. So yes, it was worth it.” It was as though speaking those words took all of Ford’s courage. His eyes blazed then he turned his attention back to the ocean.

  It was hard to remain angry at him. It was as though they both fought against falling back into what once had been such an easy-going friendship with laughter and conversation that flowed like the water by their feet.

  “Anyway, my ex left me. Then about a month ago, I learned she’d died from a prescription pill overdose.”

  “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” A wrinkle of concern formed between Eisley’s eyebrows.

  Ford shook his head. “It’s tragic, but don’t be sorry for me.”

  He must’ve loved her. She couldn’t imagine. Then she realized that she could. Betty was almost right. She had loved Ford. Past tense. And he’d left her. Granted, he didn’t die, but he went off to war and like her father, she wasn’t sure he’d survived until the very day before. But he was alive and that was the most she could’ve hoped for. He didn’t owe her anything. Relief washed through her and took the sharp edges of her anger with it.

  They’d both suffered so much, why not just let the past go?

  “My ex, Tina had her troubles. Looking back, I hardly knew her. Her favorite color? Ice cream flavor? Movie?” He shrugged. “I didn’t even know her long enough to memorize her birthday. It was sometime in March. That’s all I know.”

  Eisley bit her lip. On the other hand, he did know her birthday. In fact, when they were younger, they’d always surprise each other with a birthday adventure that took them out of the neighborhood.

  “It all happened so quick. We dated for a few months, got married, then I was called away. At the time, I figured the divorce was for the best. I didn’t want my wife to have to live in the shadow of whether I made it through another day out there. You know?” Ford turned to her. The proximity of the ocean almost made his blue eyes look green.

  Was he trying to tell her something?

  “I also have a hard time sometimes. I was trained to push everything down, away. It sometimes comes out. I guess I wouldn’t have wanted her to have to deal with that either.”

  “Do you mean like PTSD?” She’d heard about it plenty through charity work with veterans her mother did in her father’s memory.

  “Yeah. Wounds aren’t only visible on the body. I guess.”

  “How’d it happen?” She pointed at the scar.

  “Oh? This? I got this in a bar fight.”

  Eisley swallowed thickly.

  His eyes crinkled. “I’m kidding. Laughter helps me to cope. No, it was a piece of shrapnel. My vision is a little foggy on the left side, but I’m lucky I’m not blind or dead.”

  “I’m glad you’re not blind or dead.”

  “It’s funny, being here and seeing you again has given me a new way of looking at things.” He got to his feet as though realizing something important right then. “There’s so much loss and death but also so much hope and new life.”

  “That’s a really good way to look at things.”

  He reached for her hand, sending a zing—like being splashed by cold water from a wave—through her arm and into her chest, but it gave way to a pleasant warmth, flooding her.

  “Remember what you asked me yesterday?” Ford asked.

  “If you wanted a drink refill?” She knew what he meant, but wanted him to hear him say it.

  The corner
s of his mouth lifted. The smile reached his eyes, skewing the scar. “My answer is yes.”

  “Yes, you’d like some more water with lemon?”

  “Yes, I’d like to go on a date with you.”

  “That was a dare.” Her eyebrow arched.

  “All the same. I’d like to go on a date with you, Eisley Higgins.”

  “Well, it’s about time.” She tried not to smile.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked with amusement in his eyes.

  She dropped his hand, smiled, and started toward the street.

  “I’ll pick you up at six,” he called after her.

  “Do you know where my mother lives?”

  “I’ll follow my nose. I could always tell when it was dinnertime at your house and time for you to go home.”

  “But you’d never let me. Always saying you wanted to take one more bike ride around the block, needed more help on your homework assignment, or that the show was almost over.” She walked slowly backward.

  “Whatever it took for five more minutes with you.”

  His comments kindled something between them. She waved and had to suppress the skip in her step as she left the beach.

  Had she been in a car accident on the drive south? Two ten-hour days behind the wheel of her Civic wasn’t advisable, but perhaps she’d made it to heaven. No, if that were the case it wouldn’t be so humid, causing her hair to frizz.

  Eisley spent the next few hours unpacking and then focused on making ice cream. Experimenting with combinations, getting the balance of flavors and consistency right was one of her favorite distractions. The humidity gave her a good excuse to brush off the old machine—one of the few things she’d brought from Baltimore—and get churning.

  The key lime coconut cream pie she’d tried at the café was beyond words. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with Ford’s appearance, she would’ve sung its praises or asked Claudia to write a song about it. The tang of the lime, the smooth nuttiness of the coconut, plus the cream and graham cracker crust was beyond delicious. It inspired her.

  “Mom, have you ever had the key lime coconut cream pie at the café?” she asked as she researched recipes online and in her notebooks.

  “On Fridays, Betty makes an extra one for the girls and me who play canasta. We can polish one of those off in a heartbeat.”

  Eisley laughed despite herself. “I want to replicate it as ice cream.”

  “You know, it’s peculiar this town doesn’t have an ice cream shop. Remember Tiny Twists and Putt-Putt on Wilson Drive?” Diana asked.

  “Of course I remember, I worked there three summers in a row.”

  “My favorite was Rocky Road and yours was—” Her mother seemed to comb her memory.

  Eisley had a feeling Ford knew. Just as he knew her birthday, her favorite color, and movie. He knew all that about her and she knew it about him.

  “Black raspberry,” Diana said.

  Eisley nodded.

  “Thank goodness I haven’t lost my marbles. You’ll look after me when I get old, huh, honey?” Diane’s hair had become greyer than the rich dark brown it had once been. The lines around her eyes and mouth were more pronounced. She was still vibrant and youthful in her energy, it seemed even more so in the beach town versus New Jersey.

  Eisley wondered what it would’ve been like for her to grow up with a mother and father and to see them grow old together. There was a photo of her parents on the end table by her mom’s spot on the couch. He had light, almost blond hair. Would it be silver or salt and pepper? Would his ears seem to grow bigger with age as her grandfather’s had? Would he look at her mother with affection? Yes. She knew he would.

  Eisley’s chest felt heavy at the thought. “Of course, I’ll take care of you, Mom.”

  “It’s nice having you home.”

  “Is that only because you get to be my official ice cream taste tester?” She joked to lighten her mood.

  “Well, I suppose that’s a benefit.” Diana pulled her daughter into a side hug.

  For the next couple of hours, Eisley focused on ice cream making, brainstorming flavors, and reading through her old notes.

  The ice cream-everything fixation began one summer when she was obsessed with Ben and Jerry’s, but it was so expensive she reasoned if she invested in a machine, she could make it herself and save cash. Her roommates were pumped and chipped in because the fresh flavors were so delicious. Later, they’d joked that they’d created an ice cream making monster.

  Eventually, Eisley even made a blog about ice cream making, ice cream eating, and all the finer details of the process. She gained a bit of a following but changed jobs and the hobby fell away. More accurately, she could no longer afford to indulge in Tahitian vanilla, edible flowers, and the finest chocolate available.

  Standing in the kitchen of her mother’s cottage, excitement filled her at the prospect of a fresh batch of creamy, sweet ice cream (and with the slightest hint of salt to highlight the other flavors)—in all the basic and outrageous flavors. It kept her busy until a knock on the door startled her from her frozen obsession.

  Chapter 6

  Ford

  Ford waited on the other side of the screen door at number four Pelican Lane. The cottage was cute, cozy, and he could probably fit a dozen inside the mansion he currently resided in—not that he needed that much space. He’d become accustomed to a tent or a bunk if he was lucky. Though, he wouldn’t deny that a king-sized bed was far more comfortable.

  A dull whirring sound came from inside the house and Ford knocked again. He didn’t want to be rude, but movement from the other side of the screen caught his attention. Eisley turned and rushed toward the door.

  Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail on top of her head with loose strands falling into her face. She wore a T-shirt that said Sunny Side Up. She was always so cheerful and optimistic she even wore her sunny disposition on her sleeve, or her shirt as it were. But she could also be forgetful. He’d often meet her on the way to school and she’d be reading or distracted by one thing or another.

  “Did you forget about our—”

  As she pulled open the screen door, she threw her first finger in front of her lips in the universal signal for quiet. He couldn’t deny that the attention drawn to her lips at that moment sent a flare through him that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  She shook her head. A smudge of something white was on her cheek. He lifted his finger and wiped it away. What had been a flare turned into a flame, threatening to engulf him. He stepped back.

  Color rose to her cheeks and her eyes floated from his thumb to his eyes. Her honey brown eyes melted him. He was combusting. Sure, he was used to dry desert heat from when he was serving, but the humidity in Florida must’ve been getting to him. He let out a long, ragged exhale.

  “I didn’t forget about our—” She swallowed, blinked her eyes closed a moment. Then she looked over each of her shoulders. “I didn’t forget about our date,” she hissed. “I just didn’t want my mother to make a fuss.” She was the one who seemed flustered.

  He looked over her shoulder toward the whirring still coming from the kitchen.

  “I got caught up in a project, trying to distract—never mind. I’ll be just five minutes.” She rushed up to a loft space, which must have been her room.

  “And I’ll just be right here.”

  At that, what may as well have been one of the sea birds cawing issued from the back of the house. “My word. Who do we have here?” Mrs. Higgins approached him with her arms lifted and ready for one of her mama bear hugs—he’d only received a handful from her over the years, but she was the most maternal person he’d had in his life, growing up. “Ford Armstrong, you sure are a sight for sore eyes.” She was slightly shorter and fluffier than when he’d last seen her, but her eyes sparkled and her smile was as wide as ever.

  “Mom,” Eisley groaned in warning from the loft above.

  For a moment, Ford felt like a teenager a
ll over again, like he was picking Eisley up for a school dance or prom. Then again, he’d never done either of those things. They’d often gone as a group to events like homecoming without official dates. Prom was another story. He sighed.

  “I just cannot believe after all this time you turn up here. Eisley didn’t mention—”

  “Yeah, I forgot,” she called. Her voice was strained either because she felt like she’d been caught trying to keep their reunion from her mom or because she was hurrying to get ready so they could get out of there. Clearly, she was hoping her mother wasn’t going to encounter him.

  Diana was an excitable person, but he didn’t feel the need to hide. Then again, maybe Eisley was trying to spare him, given his sudden departure from their lives. Likely Mrs. Higgins had questions too.

  Eisley streaked by, wearing a sundress, and rushed into the bathroom.

  Mrs. Higgins took his hand and they sat down on the couch. She smiled tightly and then it fell into a frown. “Can I get you something to drink?” Her tone was flat like sparkling water that lost its bubbles.

  “I’m just fine, thank you.” Ford clapped his hands on his thighs, suddenly feeling awkward like the mood in the room shifted like the tides.

  “I’ve heard a lot has changed for you in recent years. For that reason, I’m willing to forgive you, but unless you’re missing in action, do not, under any circumstances leave my daughter, or me, to wonder if you’re alive or dead ever again. Do you understand me, young man?” Her Jersey accent came out thick and threatening.

  That was what Eisley was probably trying to spare him from experiencing.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ford almost saluted.

  She leaned back and folded her hands in her lap. “Now, if you need anything at all, I’m right here. I only raised one child, but I raised her right so you can trust me with you know—”

  “That you did. Thank you.” Did she know about the new addition to his life? Likely. Back in the neighborhood, she somehow knew everyone’s business, but she wasn’t a gossip. She just somehow knew things, everything.