by T. I. Lowe
Giggling, Sophia shouted over the music, “You’ve got skills, Dr. Sawyer!”
Wes winked before he spun her out and then twirled her back into his arms. By the time the song came to a close, his cheeks were high in color and his caramel hair a bit disheveled. Breathless, he asked, “Have I managed to woo you even a little?”
Sophia tsked. “A box of Whitman’s would have been all the woo you needed. And you could have just asked me to the dance instead of sending the Knitting Club after me.”
Wes twisted his lips and tilted his head. “That sounds too simple.”
She smoothed a wavy lock of hair back into place where it had slipped onto his forehead. “I’m really attracted to simple living. And I’m really attracted to the man who introduced me to that concept.”
“Hmm . . .” Wes tipped his head to the other side. “Does us slipping out of here sound simple enough?”
“Depends on what you want to do afterward.” She combed her fingers through his hair.
Wes glanced behind her. “I think we start by stealing a kiss by that snowman outside. After that, our crazy group of friends want to go swimming.”
That last part had Sophia’s fingers stilling. “Huh?”
Wes chuckled. “They want to go out to the camp for a late-night pool party. It’s heated, and August and his uncle thought it would be perfect irony to end the winter wonderland night at the lagoon they have hidden in the middle of the country.”
Sophia giggled. “I’ve heard about it but haven’t seen it yet.”
“Yeah. Lincoln isn’t able to dance much due to his leg, so it’s really for him. Opal wanted to make sure he had a good time tonight.” Wes looked over her shoulder again and nodded.
She looked too and saw the Coles and Bradfords waiting by the door along with Carter, his wife, Dominica, and Seth, who were all apparently ready to slip out too. She laced her fingers with his and began pulling him in their direction. “Come on. I think we’re due a Sand Queens meeting.”
Wes made good on his kissing suggestion and then some. Hours flew by while they spent time at the camp pool, frolicking about like a bunch of kids. In the wee hours of morning, Josie let the shriveled, famished group into Driftwood Diner and cooked them a breakfast feast. And by the time they ate their weight in shrimp gravy and biscuits, dawn had shown up and Sophia was exhausted yet fully wide-awake. They all pitched in and helped clean up before scattering to go home.
Wes pulled up at his house just as the sun began peeking from behind the ocean and led her inside.
“When I purchased this beach house, I had a vision for it past the remodel. It was supposed to be my place of solace where I could come in and hide alone. But it never felt right from day one.” Wes turned to her once they reached the living room. “The first time you and Collin came over was the first time the house felt settled somehow. Like you two were the missing part of the renovation.” He slowly kissed the edge of her mouth before taking a step back to meet her eyes. “Sea Glass Castle has been as much your beach house as it has been mine from the start. It’s lonely when you and Collin aren’t here.” Wes walked over to the vase of sea glass on the mantel and took it in his hands, turning the container in different directions as the early morning light glanced off the frosted jewels. “So after I moved in here and Lincoln told me about the sea glass, I was intrigued and did a little research. Did you know these beauties were once broken fragments of bottles and such?”
Sophia nodded her head when he looked up. “Yes.” She’d done her share of ocean preservation research over the years. She knew all about sea glass but allowed him to continue speaking in his soothing baritone, knowing he was headed somewhere with it.
“They roll around and tumble in the ocean for years, and the entire time the elements are reshaping them into something new and more appealing. It reminded me of a Bible verse from 2 Corinthians. ‘We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.’”
Sophia recalled the verse and began reciting it with him. When they finished, Wes looked up and shared a tender smile with her. “I committed that verse to memory this year, trying to keep the right perspective,” she admitted.
“You certainly have lived it. I have too. Now that we’re on this side of that, it’s easy to see how we are much like this sea glass.” Wes returned his focus to the vase. “We started out last summer in shards of our former selves, both going through a turbulent journey, but our time together has smoothed out the jaggedness and formed us into something quite appealing in my eyes.” Wes reached inside the vase and pulled something out before placing it back on the mantel. He turned and held out a delicate ring with a silver band encrusted in diamonds. “So you see, Sea Glass Castle is going to not only stand as the name for our home, but also stand as our testimony.”
Sophia gasped. “Wes!”
“I know you’re just coming out of a bad marriage. I’m not saying we have to marry any time soon. I just want you to know that’s where I want us heading when you’re ready.”
She held her hand out, admiring the anchor ring he had given her. “But I don’t want to take this one off.”
“You don’t have to. I had this one custom made to fit together with it.” Wes slipped the sparkling band onto her finger and slid it to where it fit perfectly with the anchor ring. “I hope you’ll agree to someday be my wife.”
“Yes. Wes, I want to be your wife,” Sophia answered simply. “And not just ‘someday,’ but soon.” She was done with complicated and ready to enter the more peaceful season she just knew God had planned for them.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Winter around the Grand Strand had the appealing quality of serenity. A quieter time. Less hustle and more calm. Or so that’s what the locals claimed. This was Wes’s second winter living in Sunset Cove and he’d yet to discover that calm for himself. There was always something going down that kept him on his toes. Despite that fact, his lips tipped up in a smile as he thought about the latest distraction. He shook his head, knowing one more patient needed his attention before he could allow his mind to completely snap out of doctor mode. He was about to head to the exam room when a hot mess of a woman came bursting through the door, groaning like an animal on its last leg.
“I’m dying,” she moaned, shoulders sagging and lips pouting. “This is misery.”
“Stop being so dramatic.” Wes studied her closely, thinking she looked a little green and her top a bit frumpy, but other than that she was as beautiful as always.
Sophia shot him a scathing glare. “Easy for you to say. Eight and a half months of nausea and your kid has decided to take up tap dancing—” her eyes bugged out, going for more of that sassy drama—“on my bladder.”
Wes rounded his desk and stalked over, not stopping until he had his wife cradled in his arms much like he did on their wedding night last winter. He skimmed her sweet neck with his nose and lips, recalling his sassy beauty walking down the church aisle in that red dress. It would always be one of the best moments of his life. It wasn’t conventional, but he liked them doing it their own way. “Only a few more weeks. You carry her just a little while longer and then I’ll take it from there. Indefinitely.”
Sophia snuggled close and giggled when he nipped at her neck. “I think you’ll have to fight Collin over her.”
“Our boy is tough, but I think I can take him.” Wes leaned back slightly so she could see the mean face he was making. By her throaty giggle, he’d obviously failed at pulling off looking like a bad boy.
“Honey, you’re too polished to be menacing.” She tapped the end of his nose as if she found him cute.
“Seriously, are you hanging in there?” He glanced at her feet, which were bare since she’d kicked her shoes off as soon as she was in his office. “Not much swelling today.”
“Uh-oh. You’re in
doctor mode again.” Sophia tsked.
“No, I’m in taking-care-of-my-wife mode. And if she’s sweet to me, I’ll make her an ice cream sundae when we get home later.” He was a pro at making extravagant sundaes at that point considering it was her constant craving.
“You’re too good to me.” She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair.
“You deserve even better than my best, Mrs. Sawyer.” Wes leaned toward her until his forehead rested against hers. It was their private way of saying, I love you.
And did he ever. Each morning waking up beside Sophia, Wes just knew he couldn’t ever love her more than he did at that moment. But each night when they climbed back into bed together after tucking Collin in and praying with him, Wes found more space in his heart to love her and his family even more.
Unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips to his beautiful wife’s and hoped he was conveying all his love to her.
A throat clearing by the door pulled their lips apart.
“Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Sawyer, but Everly Cole is waiting in the sea turtle room.” The nurse giggled as she rushed off.
Wes dropped one last kiss to Sophia’s lips. “Let’s go see if Miss Cole will let us give her the vaccines this time.”
“Probably not. That one is as hardheaded as her ornery daddy,” Sophia mouthed off, but Wes knew she was only teasing. They were all crazy about the redheaded angel with a smile as sweet as her mother’s and a stubborn streak as ironclad as her father’s.
“How’s Josie today?” Wes knelt before Sophia and slid her shoes back on her feet.
“Poor girl is as queasy as I am.” Sophia wrinkled her nose.
“It’s early in the first trimester. Hopefully she’ll move past it soon.” Wes glanced up before working the second shoe on. “An entirely new generation of Sand Queens. Can you believe it?”
“And/or Sand Kings,” Sophia quipped.
Wes placed his hands on either side of Sophia’s rounded abdomen and pressed his lips to the center. Suddenly her belly grew rock-hard. Jolting, his eyes collided with hers as she took a measured breath. A punctuated moment passed as the rigidness faded underneath his palms.
“Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you. I’m having contractions.” She gave him an apologetic yet sly smile.
Wes shot to his feet. “Sophia Grace!”
“I probably should have led with that, huh?” She shrugged.
Instinctively, Wes was a man on a mission. He swiped his phone off the desk and then he swiped his wife off her feet, striding out of the office at a clipped pace. “My wife’s having my baby!” His shouting drew the Coles out of the exam room and they began parading behind him while hooting and hollering their own sentiments.
“My wife’s having my baby!” Wes bellowed repeatedly like a wild man all the way out the door and on to the hospital until Sophia actually did have his baby. Six hours later, Wes and Collin jointly held baby Isabella Luka Sawyer.
•••
The Sand Queens had endured their fair share of storms. Some more severe than others, but each time they chose to rebuild a life and move forward, each one holding on to the hope of a greater life filled with love and peace that came even during the midst of storms. For they knew the sun was patiently waiting to shine again. Faithful and true, it always did.
Don’t miss out on the rest of the Carolina Coast Series
Beach Haven
Driftwood Dreams
Available in stores and online now
Join the conversation at crazy4fiction.com
www.tyndalefiction.com
1
Weaving through a jungle of the most outlandish antiques he’d ever come across, Lincoln Cole was dumbfounded and intrigued all at once. Surrounded by unusually dressed pieces of furniture, he did a three-sixty and scratched at the scruff on his cheek. The scruff indicated he was more than a few days past needing a shave, but the rebellion that had taken root in him since the injury he sustained in Syria had overruled grooming protocol that morning. Waking up from the recurring nightmare often left him too raw to focus on such mundane things. At least he had managed a shower and a fresh change of clothes.
Whimsical feminine humming somehow found its way to him as he suppressed the limp wanting to reside in his left leg while hobbling another few steps forward. Although it was a sunny day in late September, his leg was telling him the pleasant weather wouldn’t last for very long.
Nothing good ever lasts long . . .
Lincoln huffed in frustration over his own thoughts and stood semihidden in a section of old desks. He cast his gaze upward and blinked a few times. Various tables and chairs were suspended from the ceiling. A few had been converted into light fixtures, while the rest of them looked like they were being held hostage by thick cables.
“Good morning,” a cheery voice came from behind him. “Welcome to Bless This Mess.”
Keeping his focus on the ceiling, Lincoln spoke the first thing to flicker through his mind. “Is that even safe?” He pointed to the pieces of furniture that appeared to be floating above their heads.
“Oh yes. Code inspectors have deemed my mess safe.”
The woman’s teasing voice finally had Lincoln turning in her direction. Peering at him from the other side of a wooden hutch that had been transformed into a bath vanity was a sprite of a woman with the wildest head of golden-red curls he’d ever seen. The tips were lighter as if the sun had reached down and stolen the color. She closely resembled the mosaic fairy he’d seen on the outside of the building.
Clearing his throat, he offered a curt “Good.”
A smile began to blossom across the lively woman’s face as she smoothed some kind of flowy blouse with her petite hand, causing a gaudy collection of bracelets to clang against one another. Lincoln assessed her as he’d been trained to do in the military. He measured her no bigger than a minute and figured he could apprehend her with one hand tied behind his back, but he considered those big green eyes of hers and cataloged them as her secret weapon. They sparkled, but that wasn’t what set off the warning bells. No, those eyes were watching him way too closely and had already seen way more than they should. Assessment complete, he began to slowly back away.
“I have the perfect piece for you.” She held an index finger in the air, halting his attempted retreat. She skipped off in the opposite direction, sending the spirals of soft red-and-blonde hair into a dance. “I’m Opal, by the way,” she said quickly over her shoulder.
She disappeared from sight, but he could hear the banging and clattering from his two o’clock, giving away her location. “I didn’t come here for furniture.”
“Oh, that’s okay. This piece was meant for you, nonetheless, so I insist on you taking it.” Her grunts came from the back and sounded like she was struggling with something.
Sighing, Lincoln looked heavenward at the craziness on the ceiling one last time before walking through the maze to find her. He stopped cold in his tracks when he found her sitting on a soldier’s footlocker.
“I found this on a junking trip last year.” Opal smoothed her tiny hand over the thick gray cushion that had been fitted on the top. It reminded Lincoln of a military-issue wool coat. “For some reason, I just knew it needed to be transformed into a bench seat. Possibly for an entry piece where someone can sit and remove or put on their shoes. Or maybe at the foot of a bed.” She swung her feet back and forth, looking like a little kid. Flip-flops peeked from the edges of her fraying bell-bottom jeans each time her legs swayed forward.
Not letting himself get caught in the confusing inquiry of where she found such an odd pair of jeans, Lincoln crossed his arms and regarded the piece suspiciously. “Why’d you make it so tall?” His eyes dropped to the thick wooden spindles she’d used for the legs. They were painted a neutral gray to coordinate with the creamy beige used on the trunk. It was obvious she’d put a lot of thought into the piece, even restenciling the ID number along the front side in the same gray as the legs.
“I had a feeling the owner would need the extra leg space. What are you, six-four?” She gave him a swift once-over.
Six-five. “Close enough.”
She smirked like she had a secret. “If you’re not here for furniture, then what are you here for?”
Lincoln moved his eyes away from the peculiar woman and swept them over the menagerie of furniture pieces while rubbing a hand through his long brown hair. Haircuts were another ritual he’d allowed to die several months ago, right along with his military career.
After giving her question some thought, Lincoln answered honestly, “I’m not sure.” He turned and began moving through the rows as quick as his achy leg would carry him.
“You forgot your bench!” Opal called from behind him. “And you didn’t even introduce yourself!”
Her petitions did nothing to slow his already-sluggish getaway. He didn’t stop until he was piled back into his Jeep and heading down the beachfront road.
“Smooth, Cole. Real smooth.” He groaned and released one tight-fisted pound against the steering wheel. Between the throb in his knee and the unsettling encounter with the store’s owner, all he wanted to do was go back to his beach cottage and hide from the feeling that he didn’t fit anywhere anymore. The doctors had done the best they could with his knee, putting enough hardware in his leg for him to be considered part cyborg, but no bolt or pin could put his destroyed life back together.
The promise he’d made to meet his buddy Carter for a late breakfast trumped the desire to hide. No matter how many vicissitudes had occurred in his life, Lincoln Cole still remained a man of his word. So instead of doing what his bones ached to do, Lincoln pulled up at Driftwood Diner and made his way inside, where he found Carter was already perched on a stool at the counter.
