“That’s exactly what he did to my parents.”
“That’s all so tragic. I have several parents’ groups formed to discuss that very thing. It’s heartbreaking.”
Andy leaned forward to ask his question.
“What did you mean when you said outreach fellowship?”
“We are governed by a Board of Directors for a nonprofit foundation. Our charter stipulates that we reserve five beds at all times for the indigent or homeless, as long as they aren’t a danger to the other patients. You would call them paying customers, I suppose.”
“So how did he get here?” Andy asked.
“I’d have to get Ben’s file, but most of them come from Emergency Rooms, an accidental overdose, or the police find them in parks. Sometimes an encampment is raided, and they distribute several of the homeless to various church groups, the Rescue Mission, and other clinics like ours. There are some state-run treatment centers, but most of them are filled up with criminal cases.”
“So it was random, then?” Aimee asked.
“Yes. I don’t know how they do it. Maybe someone thought he needed a break. I’d have to look at his record to tell you that.”
“So where do you suggest she look next?” Andy asked.
Dr. Denby clasped his hands together on the shiny wooden conference table. “I don’t think he can be found, because I don’t think he wants to be.”
Aimee felt like he’d slapped her across the face. She’d been so hopeful.
“I’ll bet you’re thinking I’m being quite harsh, but actually, I’m trying to help. The reality of the situation is that homelessness is a huge problem now, and we don’t have enough facilities to deal with it. Many of them self-medicate. They try to monitor the underlying mental components of their disease, which in turn, deepens the cycle. They become more and more aloof and eventually get in harm’s way or lose their connection to reality altogether. If you saw him on the street today, I’d recommend not engaging him or trying to help him. You’d be putting yourself in danger, in my opinion.”
Aimee began to cry.
Dr. Denby placed his hand over Aimee’s. “I’m so sorry, child. I wish I had better news for you. But you could devote all your time and all your money to trying to find and rehabilitate this boy, and he’d run back to the streets at the first opportunity. He may be alive, but he’s not living.”
“When he was released to the halfway house, was he well?”
Dr. Denby withdrew his hand from Aimee’s. “Oh, we never get the well ones!” He chuckled. “Occasionally, someone gets out and breaks the cycle. Most of them fail. Although we talk about homelessness in one broad tent, it’s not a one-size-fits-all type of problem. And we’re not even scratching the surface. Every state, every municipality, treats it differently and with varying success. The worst thing we can do is what we are doing: Basically nothing.”
Aimee didn’t try to hide her tears any longer.
“This is the worst part of my job, bringing the reality of addiction to the very people who want to hang on to every hope. But like I said before, I think that’s cruel.”
Andy nodded, putting his arm around Aimee. “You have any other questions, sweetheart?”
All she could do was shake her head no.
Dr. Denby stood up, and Andy did the same. They shook hands again, and then the doctor placed his hand on Aimee’s shoulder. “It’s healthy that you care. That’s the normal response. You suffer because you understand the truth. You feel pain because you’re a good person, compassionate and generous, or else you’d never be here. Make sure you continue to bring that to the world, but I don’t think you can fix this one, no matter how much you want to. Okay, Aimee?”
She nodded her head again and pulled herself up.
“Thank you, doctor,” she mumbled.
Dr. Denby smiled for the first time. “I’ve flagged the file and will add your phone number, if you’ll write it here.” He pushed his notebook in front of her and set his pen down next to it. “If I hear anything at all, I’ll be sure to call you. I can do that.”
Aimee wrote her number down and handed back his pen. He walked to the doorway and held it open.
“Here’s another tip that works well for some people.” Both Aimee and Andy quickly looked up to his face. “Go some place you love being. Walk the beach, and remember him the way he was. Go have an ice cream as if you were sharing it with him.” he said with a timid smile.
Aimee felt crippled. Her heart hurt. She was so sure she could find Logan. She’d anticipated sitting in his room, talking to him, catching up as if they’d been separated at college or long trips. He’d make her laugh. He’d play drums with pencils on every surface of her bedroom. Make her dolls talk. Peek out the window and tell her there was a dinosaur outside eating her mother’s roses. The best parts of her childhood were with Logan.
How could she give up?
Andy took her hand while they walked to the Jeep.
“Sunshine Palms, what a depressing place. Why don’t they just call it the Gates of Hell?”
Andy threw his arm around her, squeezed, and brought her in tight. “There’s that pretty girl with the lavender eyes who’s got me all tied up in knots.”
“Are you suggesting?” She looked up at him, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.
“No worries, no rush. We’ve got time. I’m rather enjoying the getting acquainted part. Aren’t you?”
She chuckled. “Roger that.”
“Your chariot awaits,” he said as he opened the door and hoisted her up into the passenger seat. “Where to?”
“I don’t feel like ice cream,” she said. “I want to think about something else.” She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I want to show you something near my house. Take me there, okay?”
“Anything, Aimee. Anything you want.”
Chapter 18
Andy held her hand all the way up the coast until he turned down the alleyway toward the shore and the gravel driveway in front of Aimee’s house. She’d been watching the little beach shops, eateries and Gator Golf stands as they whizzed by them. Her window was ajar, and the wind blew against her face, sending her light caramel hair in all directions.
Instead of going inside, she took his hand and led him down the Beach Access bridge and then turned south and walked in the soft sand in front of several houses. She stopped at a two-story rose-colored home with a huge balcony overlooking the ocean. All the windows were boarded up. She led him around the right side of the house, opening up a door and then through a windowless storage area and through another door to a kitchen of sorts.
The place was a total mess. Appliances looked like big, angular dead animals on the killing fields. A sliver of light enabled him to see a large wraparound counter and eating bar, tiled in vintage pink ceramic with black trim. She stepped carefully, avoiding broken glass and sharp metal pieces, leading him to a stairway with half the wooden spindles missing. She danced halfway up before Andy began.
Old furniture lay broken, and both bathrooms were missing toilets, vanity tops and shower heads. The master at the end had a sliding glass door, leading to the balcony. Aimee kicked a piece of plywood out, giving them a space to walk out on the deck.
“Careful, Aimee. I’m not sure this is solid.” He was going to lead her away from the railing but examined the timbers below their feet.
“Look at that view!” she said, turning to face the now-dying sun. “I’ll bet you get an extra two minutes of sunset with this balcony,” she said.
People in clumps of two or three began to gather, everyone watching the same direction, as if getting nourishment from the sun’s rays themselves.
“Pretty spectacular, I’ll admit.”
He watched her stand on her tip-toes, hanging on the railing for extra height.
“Careful, Aimee. I don’t think that wood is very sturdy.” He pulled her back. She turned, facing him, her eyes sparkling.
“What do you think, Andy. Should I
buy it?”
“Buy it? You have a house.”
“That I rent. What if I was to buy it?”
Andy noticed she hadn’t said anything about him being part of that picture. “You want to live here full time?”
“Why not?”
He remained quiet and hoped that she’d self-correct a mistake he thought she made.
“Is it for sale?”
“I looked up the owner’s name. It’s left in a trust for the benefit of a lady who lives in Sarasota in one of those senior communities. I’m going to contact the attorney and see. Don’t you love it?”
“It’s broken. It needs a lot of work. Who—?”
She placed her palm over his mouth to stop him. Then she kissed him. “Would you help me?
“Well, you do remember that I live in California? Aimee, it would be hard to see each other very much if we were looking at two sunsets from different coasts. Right?”
“I thought about that. But you could help me find the contractors to do the work, maybe help me get organized. And I can stay here while you’re on deployment.”
The part that was missing was having her lined up with all the other parents, kids, wives, and girlfriends when their big transport came booming into town. Her being present at the bonfires and parties, walking with her through the shops in Coronado, having pizza and beers with some of his friends and their ladies at the Scupper. There was a whole life there, in San Diego, that he loved and didn’t want to give up.
She was focusing on the last embers of the sun spilling into the ocean. In an instant, the sky and colors of everything began to gray and tone down.
She crossed in front of him. “Come on. We better get out of here before we can’t see.”
They silently traversed back until they were at the side of the house again. “I like the color, at least.”
Her expression was smug, unreadable.
“Let’s go to the Crab Shack, okay? I’m still going through withdrawals from this morning.”
Even though it was early still for the dinner hour, the restaurant was nearly filled to capacity. There was a singer playing Margaritaville songs and taking requests. He tipped his hat at Aimee, but she didn’t notice.
They sat up front, away from the music by her choice.
The waitress took Aimee’s order of a strawberry margarita. Andy stuck to beer.
The way she sucked on her straw brought back some very sexy memories of this morning. She apparently knew it, because she let her tongue slip up the straw and back down again. Her eyes were dreamy, slightly out of focus. She stared right at him and licked her lips.
“I thought you wanted to eat tonight,” he said.
“Promises, promises.”
That little statement and the fact that her tongue completely coated her lips made his pants feel two sizes too small. She gave him a long, vacant look as she put the straw between her lips and sucked. Hard.
Andy had to look away.
The waitress arrived, and before she could mention the specials, Aimee ordered for both of them.
“He’s going to have the breaded, barbeque oysters, a dozen, and we’ll share a king crab legs special.”
“Nothing healthy?” he asked. Andy had expected a salad they could share at least.
“This is healthy. Can’t you feel it?” She grinned.
He knew how to change the subject. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to partake. He was starved for real food.
“So tell me about your plans for that pink house. Tell me how you’re going to get a loan on that place in its present condition.”
“I don’t know what they want yet, but I plan to pay cash and do the remodel for cash as well. I can get a loan later, if I want.”
“I was hoping you’d come with me to San Diego. Soon, Aimee. Or is this a little wrinkle, a change of plans. Or did I misunderstand?” He felt his voice trail off, having trouble following where the conversation was going.
“You think I demonstrated any desire to take a detour this morning?”
“No, you certainly did not.”
“Did I demonstrate a lack of enthusiasm?”
“Not one bit. I loved every moan, whimper, and….you fill in the blanks.”
“Oh, trust me. I can,” she purred.
“I’m rather counting on it. But seriously, honey, are we talking about a long-distance romance here, because I was rather sure I’d convinced you I wanted you with me twenty-four-seven.”
“I want that too. But what if we had a special place at Sunset Beach to come? What if we owned it for years and years and years? What if we became like those older couples on the beach, and we watch the young ones, like we are right now, scampering home to do whatever? We could rent it out. Share our beach with other people and make a little money at it. We could share it with friends or give it as a gift for a week or two. Then our Sunset Beach would blow up and take over our whole lives. It would be bigger, better than just the private place where we met and…fill in the blanks.”
“Fell in love.”
“That’s what I want, Andy. I want something that will never go away.”
“You know what I do. That could still happen.”
“But I’d have you here, always. You’d always be here with me, no matter what the age, where you were. This is for us.”
The crab legs arrived and took up the entire table. A pint of melted butter was delivered in a Mason jar. Andy’s oysters were tucked into the far corner, with barely room for his beer or her margarita.
“This is totally obscene!” he said.
“I’m going to be covered in butter,” she said.
“One of my favorite flavors.” He slid the first two oysters into his mouth and called them perfect. Aimee tried one as well.
She tilted her head. “An acquired taste but good.”
She dove into the largest of the legs, pulling off the pre-cracked portions easily and dipping them into butter with her fingers. She fed him. He fed her another oyster.
When they were done, shells and small pools of butter were everywhere, covering the table top, even falling at their feet below. She finished her margarita.
She had her head in her palm, elbow resting on the table.
“I love your idea. I’m all on board. Let’s make it happen, Aimee.”
Months later, when they would think about this night, he would tell people that he knew the first time he saw her that he would make her his wife. That he never asked her and she never consented with words. They said their vows all night long, this time in her bed. It didn’t matter how long they’d known each other, because their forever began with the first kiss and the number thirty-six omelet at Connie’s.
It was all about the butter, the crab, and the beautiful Florida night air.
And the sunsets that would last for all eternity at Sunset Beach.
Continue the journey to Sunset Beach with Book 2 of this new series, Second Chance SEAL (The Girl He Left Behind), releasing in March. You can order it here.
Navy SEAL Damon Hamblin’s life is in turmoil after he’s served with divorce papers during his last deployment. He crashes into a sleepy Florida Gulf Coast town to drown his sorrows and just fade into the background, where no one knows him and he can drink, surf and lay out on the beach until his insides heal. The last thing he wants is to rebound into another relationship.
Martel Long came to Sunset Beach five years ago to visit a friend, and never left. She’s tried to forget the man who broke her heart back home, and had been doing a good job of it, until she comes face to face with him at a Bachelorette party for her best friend at a local beach bar.
As sparks fly and old wounds are torn open, the sands at Sunset Beach help to heal a beautiful love story that could have been, and will be again.
About the Author
Sharon Hamilton
NYT and USA Today best-selling author Sharon Hamilton’s award-winning Navy SEAL Brotherhood series have been a fan favorite from the day the firs
t one was released. They’ve earned her the coveted Amazon author ranking of #1 in Romantic Suspense, Military Romance and Contemporary Romance categories, as well as in Gothic Romance for her Vampires of Tuscany and Guardian Angels. Her characters follow a sometimes rocky road to redemption through passion and true love.
Now that he’s out of the Navy, Sharon can share with her readers that her son spent a decade as a Navy SEAL, and he’s the inspiration for her books.
Her Golden Vampires of Tuscany are not like any vamps you’ve read about before, since they don’t go to ground and can walk around in the full light of the sun.
Her Guardian Angels struggle with the human charges they are sent to save, often escaping their vanilla world of Heaven for the brief human one. You won’t find any of these beings in any Sunday school class.
She lives in Sonoma County, California with her husband and her Doberman, Tucker. A lifelong organic gardener, when she’s not writing, she’s getting verra verra dirty in the mud, or wandering Farmers Markets looking for new Heirloom varieties of vegetables and flowers. She and her husband plan to cure their wanderlust (or make it worse) by traveling in their Diesel Class A Pusher, Romance Rider. Starting with this book, all her writing will be done on the road.
She loves hearing from her fans:
[email protected]
Her website is:
sharonhamiltonauthor.com
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