by Irene Hannon
Once again, she’d blindsided him. He hadn’t expected her to touch on such a personal subject.
Nate stood, shoved his hands into his pockets, and took a couple of steps toward the edge of the cliff as he debated how to respond. From here, he could see the waves crashing on the rocks below, where the frolicking seals had often entertained them. Farther down was the stretch of deserted sand that had hosted their beachcombing excursions on several occasions. Lifting his head, he scanned the far horizon, where passing ships had inspired them to make up stories about adventures and travels that would take them far beyond Starfish Bay.
How could he tell this wary woman she was one of the reasons he had happy memories of his brief sojourn in this tiny town?
He couldn’t. Not without spooking her. But sharing the other reason his time here had been idyllic presented another problem.
He didn’t talk about his painful past. Ever. With anyone.
Then again, Lindsey wasn’t just anyone. She was the best friend he’d ever had.
Could he make an exception for her?
From her seat on the bench, Lindsey studied the broad back and strong profile of the man standing a few feet off to the side. There was little about him to remind her of the shy, timid boy who’d been forever pushing his glasses up his nose and who, she suddenly recalled, had greeted all of her adventurous plans with trepidation.
A memory flitted through her mind, of a hike they’d taken down to the beach once to look for agates. She’d had to push and prod him all the way, though once there he’d entered into the search with gusto. How odd, to think a boy like that would end up choosing a career that took him to trouble spots and put him in the line of fire.
Just as Mark had.
A familiar pang of sorrow engulfed her, but before it became suffocating, Nate spoke.
“How much did your dad know about my family situation?”
Pulling herself back from the past, she chose her words with care. “Very little. And all based on hearsay. The story was that you moved not long after your dad lost his job in Crescent City. There was talk he’d been drinking.”
Nate snorted. “It was more than talk. Dad was an alcoholic who couldn’t hold a job for more than a few months, at best. Every time he got fired, we moved. That’s why my mom homeschooled me.”
He stopped, and Lindsey wondered if that was all he was going to offer. But then he picked up the story.
“One day, she’d had enough. She threatened to leave him if he didn’t get his act together. He promised he would, and she agreed to give him one more chance. That’s when we moved here. And for nine months, from April until December, he kept his promise. We were a real family. We ate dinner together. Went on outings. Dad even attended church with us once in a while. It was the best time of my life. Until he started drinking again and everything fell apart.” His voice rasped.
In the hush that followed, broken only by the crash of the waves below and the caw of the gulls above, Lindsey mulled over what he’d said. And spotted the gap at once. He’d told her why he’d come back. But he hadn’t told her why he’d come back now.
That wasn’t a question she felt comfortable asking, however. The sudden shakiness in his words and the taut line of his shoulders told her she’d pushed far enough into personal territory for one day. Territory she suspected he usually traveled solo. In light of that, she was surprised—and touched—he’d told her as much as he had.
“I can see why this place is special to you.” Warmth crept into her voice. “And Starfish Bay does have a way of calling people back.”
“Yeah.” He kept his face averted. Cleared his throat. “Besides, I was overdue for a vacation. And I needed to get away for a while.”
Why?
Again the question hovered on the tip of her tongue. Again, she bit it back. And moved to safer ground. “Everyone needs time off and a change of scene once in a while. I used to look forward to the summer vacation when I taught.”
“You’re a teacher?” He turned toward her.
“Was. I just tutor a little now and run the Mercantile with my dad.”
“When did you come back from Sacramento?”
“Three years ago.”
“After your husband died?”
“Yes.” Lindsey grabbed the handle of the watering can and stood. That subject wasn’t open for discussion. “Dad fell and broke his hip, and he needed help with the store. So I moved back.”
“I thought your mom worked at the store, too.”
Another pang of sorrow echoed in her heart. “She died when I was twelve.”
Nate’s expression softened. “I’m sorry to hear that. She was a nice woman.”
“Yeah. She was.” Lindsey shifted the can to her other hand. “Look, I need to get back.”
“And miss the sunset?” He gestured to the sky.
It was glorious. Above, the sky was still deep blue. But closer to the water, bands of pink, yellow and orange streaked across the horizon, casting a rose-colored glimmer on the water. Normally, she’d hang around for nature’s finale. But for some odd reason, the idea of watching a sunset with this man felt dangerous. And her instincts told her the Beretta tucked into the concealed holster on her belt wouldn’t protect her from the kind of threat he represented.
“Not tonight.”
“May I walk you back to town?”
She took a step back, fighting down a flutter of panic. “I’m fine. I do this all the time by myself. Thanks, anyway.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned away and struck off toward the secret path that led to the center of town. The one she’d shown the child-size version of this man twenty-five years ago. Back when he’d been afraid of these woods.
As she reached the trees, she glanced over her shoulder. Nate had shifted over a few feet to keep her in sight. He lifted a hand in farewell. She responded, hoping he was too far away to see the disconcerting flush that crept over her cheeks.
And as she plunged into the woods, the route as familiar as her mom’s cookie recipe, she had a feeling the grown-up Nathaniel wasn’t afraid of the woods anymore.
Or very much else.
Nate watched Lindsey until the shadows in the woods swallowed her. Then he retook his seat on the bench, his thoughts on their encounter rather than the last act of the sunset playing out before him.
He hadn’t planned to spill his guts about his family to anyone in Starfish Bay. But Lindsey’s caring demeanor had invited confidences, just as it had in the old days. No surprise there.
His own reaction, however, had startled him. He’d thought he’d long ago stowed the emotional baggage from his childhood.
But this place was dragging it out again.
A silhouetted ship on the horizon caught his attention, the vessel a mere speck in the vast expanse of water. Moving steadily toward a specific destination, it would continue to plow through the sea, undeterred by squalls or darkness, floundering only if its navigation and communications system went down. Then, it could lose its way.
Kind of like he had.
As he faced that hard, cold fact, he took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers around the solid edge of the stone bench that had withstood more than its share of storms. The truth was, he felt adrift. And had for a long time. But his unsettled feeling had been more intense since the bombing.
Maybe that’s why he’d made his marathon cross-country drive to Starfish Bay. Perhaps deep inside he’d harbored a hope that this place could show him how to recapture the joy he’d known here.
But now that he was back, where would he find the guidance he needed?
A rattle sounded behind him, and he shifted on the bench to look over his shoulder. The wind had picked up, and as a flapping shingle on the roof of the chapel drew his eye, the clouds on the horizons parted. All at once a ray of sun peeked through, bathing the steeple in a golden glow.
Almost like a sign.
Nate’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. Now that
was a stretch. Next thing, he’d be thinking it was God who had urged him, on that desert night in Afghanistan, to make this journey.
As if God cared.
“God does care, Nathaniel. And He always answers our prayers. Sometimes not in the way we expect, but that’s because He knows better than we do what’s best for us. There’s a purpose in everything. Trust Him.”
Reverend Tobias’s long-forgotten words suddenly echoed in Nate’s mind. The kindly man had spoken them on this very bench, when he’d found Nate huddled here, crying, the night before his family had moved again. And Nate had clung to them for months, doing his best to believe, trusting that the man had spoken the truth and God would show him why He’d turned his life upside down.
That had never happened. Then tragedy had struck again. So he’d looked elsewhere for meaning.
And come up just as empty.
Now here he was, back in the place where an idyllic time and a devout man had fueled his passion for God.
Coincidence? Maybe not.
Because truth be told, he had a feeling only God could answer the question that had plagued him since he’d lay among those dead and dying soldiers.
Why me?
Chapter Three
This can’t be happening!
The words echoed in Lindsey’s mind as she stared at the man in the dark business suit, crisp white shirt and silk tie who was placing a glossy, mounted photo on an easel in the town hall.
“That’s correct, Mayor Peroni. It would be a very upscale, exclusive resort, much like this one that we built on the Kona Coast in Hawaii.” He positioned the easel so it could be seen by the four town council members and the mayor, who sat at a long table in the front of the hall, and by the three residents who’d wandered in to observe the monthly meeting. “Our guests prefer these types of secluded destinations. Near scenic areas, but off the beaten track. Your property certainly qualifies.”
The man smiled.
Lindsey wanted to throw up.
A big-time developer wanted to buy The Point.
How had she missed that on the agenda?
She scanned the paper in front of her and reread the discussion items as the man launched into a spiel straight out of Sales 101. There it was. Presentation on development project. No wonder she’d read right over it. Talk about ambiguous. Leaning forward, she shot a dirty look at Dennis Simms, who handled the meeting minutes and the agenda. But he was engrossed in the man’s slick presentation and the glossy photograph.
Lindsey sat back and gave the photo a closer inspection, too. Okay. The three-story structure was attractive. And yes, it was tasteful and blended well with the natural setting.
But no matter how well it was designed, any structure would still dominate the landscape and forever change The Point and the quaint ambience of Starfish Bay.
They couldn’t let that happen.
“Excuse me.” Lindsey raised her voice to interrupt the developer, who was gushing about the economic opportunities such a resort would offer the town, dangling terms like infusion of capital, job creation and enhanced infrastructure. Every eye in the place turned to her as the man stopped talking midsentence. “How much of The Point are you interested in buying?”
“All of it. The forested area between the resort and the town will act as a buffer zone for our guests.”
“A buffer from what?”
A snicker came from the peanut gallery, and a flush rose on the man’s neck. “Our guests prefer privacy when on resort property. But of course, many of them will also visit the town.”
“To mingle with the riffraff? How nice.” The man’s color deepened, but Lindsey didn’t give him a chance to respond. “What about the chapel on the property?”
He adjusted his tie. “According to our structural engineer, it’s in poor condition. And we understand it’s no longer in use. We’re still working on preliminary architectural drawings, but I’m certain we would tear it down.”
“I was baptized in that chapel.”
Yes! Lindsey was tempted to give sixty-something Frank Martinez a thumbs-up for his comment. At least one council member was on her side.
“That doesn’t make it a national shrine, Frank.” Susan Peroni shot him an annoyed glance over her half glasses.
He glared back. “What about our plan to turn The Point into a park?”
“We don’t have the money. You know that. We all know that. Parks are nice, but we’re struggling to pay for the necessities. A resort like this could be a boon for the town.”
Lindsey frowned at Susan as the developer’s reference to a structural engineer suddenly registered. “You knew this was in the works, didn’t you?”
The mayor shuffled the papers in front of her. “Louis Mattson himself called me a couple of days after the last council meeting. A very nice gentleman. Mattson Properties is a prestigious company known for its first-class resort projects, and he assured me the one on The Point would follow in those footsteps. I gave him permission to look the land over and do a preliminary site survey. In this economy, it’s our civic duty to give an unbiased hearing to any opportunity that could bring new business to Starfish Bay.”
Lindsey clamped her lips together and scowled at the mayor. Since Susan and her husband ran a local sightseeing company, they’d be among the biggest beneficiaries of an influx of tourists.
But so would other area businesses. She checked out the remaining two council members. Dennis ran a fishing camp, Janice operated an art gallery. More tourists would be beneficial for both of them.
Her stomach knotted.
The odds weren’t looking good.
“I don’t disagree with you, Susan.” Janice folded her hands, twin furrows etching her brow. “In these economic times, we do need to consider all sources of revenue to bolster our town budget. But I’m not certain I like this idea. A resort like that,” she gestured to the easel, “is lovely, but think how it would change the dynamics of the town. And as for The Point, I like the wild beauty of it, even if we never have the funds to make it a park. It’s a tough decision.”
So Janice wasn’t gung ho on the idea, either. Maybe there was hope yet.
A hand rose at the back of the hall. Clint Nolan worked for the National Park Service and had degrees in marine biology and forestry. He’d only been in Starfish Bay for a year, but he was well respected. And he didn’t like messing with nature or taming wild places. He might be an ally, too.
“Yes, Clint?” Susan tapped her pen against the table, the staccato rhythm echoing in the mostly empty hall.
He rose. “With due respect to the reputation of Mattson Properties, I have to agree with Janice. This sort of decision requires careful consideration and a full hearing before area residents. I’d suggest you schedule a meeting where we can see a more detailed plan for the site and listen to what other citizens have to say.”
“Hear, hear.” That from one of the other residents who’d attended the meeting.
“Well.” Susan huffed and adjusted her glasses. “And here I thought this was a no-brainer. I had no idea a proposal with such obvious economic benefits to the community would be contentious.”
The representative from the developer took down the photograph and folded up the easel. “I know Mr. Mattson would be happy to come himself and present some site renderings for residents to review. And to answer questions, of course.”
“Does anyone on the council object to a special meeting?” When no one spoke, Susan sighed. “Okay. Let’s talk dates.”
Ten minutes later, after offering the developer a couple of options two weeks down the road, the meeting wrapped up.
As Lindsey gathered up her notes, Frank wandered over, obviously sensing a kindred spirit. “I’d hate to see that developer tear down the chapel and ruin The Point.”
“Me, too.”
“You think the town will go for it?”
“I hope not.”
“He’s a smooth talker, though.” The man ran his fingers thro
ugh his bristly white hair. “Think I might bend the Lord’s ear a little on this one. See you around.” With a wave, he walked toward the exit.
Lindsey followed close on his heels, hoping his prayer would be heard. Through all the turmoil and changes that had come her way, the headland and the chapel had been a stable, enduring element in her life. She’d found solace there in times of sorrow, joy in times of celebration, refuge in times of fear.
Losing it would be like losing part of herself.
Again.
So as she drove home through the night, she sent a simple but fervent plea of her own heavenward.
Please, Lord, help us preserve this special place.
Nate pushed through the front door of the Mercantile, the bell jingling overhead.
“I’ll take care of it, honey.” A masculine voice came from somewhere in the back of the store.
Spying a dome-covered plate of cookies near the cash register, Nate wandered over. Not chocolate chip today. But they looked tasty—even if he’d downed a hearty breakfast at the Orchid Café less than an hour and a half ago.
A movement to his right in the far corner of the store caught his eye, and he turned. A blond-haired boy, who appeared to be about ten or eleven, sat angled slightly toward him, elbow propped on the table, chin in hand, ankles wrapped around the legs of his chair. His expression was glum.
“You’ll get it, Jarrod. I’ll work with you until you do.” Lindsey’s encouraging words were muted.
Nate eased back for a better view. She was leaning across the small table toward the boy, posture intent.
“How can I help you?”
At the question, Nate swiveled away from the tableau in the opposite corner of the store toward the gray-haired man who was limping toward him. Nate didn’t have a clear memory of Lindsey’s father, but he could see the resemblance in the strong chin and shape of the mouth.
