LF47 - Love Finds You in Folly Beach, South Carolina

by Loree Lough

  “Well, you can bet I’ll be there, just in case.”

  “Do you think there’s a chance that Parker might come?”

  “A month ago, I might have said maybe. Now?” He loosed a raspy sigh. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  She nodded. “That’s what I figured.”

  “Aw, now, don’t look so glum. You never can tell. Miracles happen every day.” He finished the last of his coffee and waved Agnes over. “So what’s on your slate for this afternoon, kiddo?”

  “I’m going to do some grocery shopping. Maude’s cupboards are as bare as Old Mother Hubbard’s, and Parker’s aren’t much better.” She saw no point in telling him that Parker had been avoiding the cottage—or that she didn’t much blame him—so except for sleeping, she’d been spending most of her time at his house. “Can’t expect Maude’s nurse to run errands, with everything else she has to do, and I figure with the holiday just around the corner and my folks coming to town, I’d better stock up. If I wait until the last minute, it’ll probably be the same as when the weatherman predicts snow in Baltimore.”

  “The old ‘we might run out of milk and toilet paper’ run, eh?”

  “Yeah, you don’t want to be in the stores at the eleventh hour.”

  Until she heard his dour tone, Holly had almost forgotten that until the big confession, it had been Hank who’d run most of Maude’s errands. She started to apologize when Agnes stepped up and slapped the bill on the table. “No need to leave me a tip, Hand-some,” she said with a wink, “if you sit with me at the church social on Sunday.”

  Grinning, Hank shook his head.

  “That Maude,” Agnes said, “is one lucky duck. I hope she realizes what a prize you are.”

  He waved the compliment away. “Agnes, you’re incorrigible.”

  “Why? Because I call ’em as I see ’em?” She snickered. “You tell that woman I’m just waiting for her to get her strength back.” She rolled up nonexistent sleeves. “Once she’s got her game face on again, it’s every woman for herself.” She faced Holly and added, “If he doesn’t tell her, you do it. It’s only fair the woman get some warning, after all.” And with that, she sashayed away, snapping her gum.

  “Well, as I live and breathe,” Hank said, watching her go.

  “She’s right, you know.”

  His brow furrowed with confusion. “Right? About what?”

  “You are a prize, and Maude’s lucky to have you, especially…” Holly couldn’t bear to admit her true feelings, especially after what Maude had done to Parker.

  “She had her reasons, I expect.” His frown deepened.

  Holly thought it best to change the subject and relieve Hank of the self-imposed duty of defending Maude’s indefensible actions. “So what’re you doing for the rest of the day?”

  “Going to the pet store for some toys and treats for Cat.”

  “Cat? Is that the name you decided on?”

  “She seems to like it.”

  “I think what she likes,” Holly said, “is you. With good reason.”

  “C’mon now, you’ll start me blushing like a schoolgirl again.” She picked up the tab and faced the cashier’s counter. “You know how hard that is to hide under this snow-white hair?”

  Laughing, Holly joined him in the aisle and gave him a big hug. “Have a great day, Hank.”

  The last thing she heard before the big glass door swung shut was, “You, too, kiddo. See you in church!”

  The words made her cringe, because she had a sinking suspicion that Emily wouldn’t be ready to sing that solo by Sunday, and knowing that Parker wouldn’t be there to cheer her on, Holly’s heart just wasn’t in it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Parker didn’t think he’d ever seen Holly happier or more animated and doubted that he could generate that much enthusiasm over anything family-related, not even if he lived to be one hundred. If he had a family, that is. His recurring daydream, where a couple of rambunctious kids and a loving wife raced down the walk to greet him, well, it would remain a dream. Even if he could find a woman willing to overlook his questionable parentage, he’d begun to worry about history repeating itself. What if he’d inherited his father’s oblivious tendencies, or worse, Maude’s self-centered streak? No way he’d inflict that on an innocent kid.

  “So when will your folks get into town?”

  “On July first.”

  He could see that she was trying to curb her excitement, and he believed he knew why: Holly, whose energy was rivaled only by her empathy, saw the stark contrasts between her background and his and had convinced herself that by downplaying her strong family ties, he wouldn’t feel so left out or left behind. If he’d met her a year ago, before Maude’s confession blew his world apart, well, because Holly didn’t do anything halfway, she would have followed the “for better or worse” part of her wedding vows to the letter.

  “Wow. July first is just around the corner.”

  Cupping her elbows, she trembled with pleasure. “I’m not supposed to know this, but a couple of my cousins are coming too, to take turns driving for Dad. I’m putting them in the Miles Fairley suite. It’s not as big as the Captain Dan or as elegant as the Lucy, but I’m sure they’ll be very comfortable.”

  “There are three other rooms. Why make them share a suite?”

  “Because it’ll give them a chance to reconnect. Adam has been going through some rough times since his separation, and I think being with Frank will help him deal with all that.”

  Then she smiled, sending Parker’s heart into overdrive. Again.

  “Adam served in Iraq, you know. Two tours. So you guys can bond over big guns and bombs and war and all that other man stuff.”

  “Maybe he’s one of those guys who doesn’t like talking about combat.”

  Now she laughed, adding to the heat in his cheeks. Oh, but he wished she’d quit looking at him that way!

  “Well, if that’s your way of saying you’re one of those guys, then I feel it’s only fair to warn you not to say the word ‘soldier’ around Adam.”

  Great, he thought. Just great. Holly’s cousin and me at our own private pity party.

  “Oh, now, don’t look that way. Adam kept it all bottled up at first, which is precisely the reason he and Jessie separated. He wants things to work out between them, he really does. So much so that he agreed to see a counselor—he’s still seeing the guy, I think—who advised him to open up. And believe me, he took the advice to heart!”

  Different strokes for different folks, Parker thought. Physical therapy was one thing. But seeing a shrink? He’d stomached the rigors of rehab, but what kind of a man would he be if he couldn’t muddle through this Maude mess on his own?

  One eye squinted, Holly leaned against his deck rail and counted on her fingers. “Let’s see, I need to put clean linens on the beds and fresh towels in the bathrooms, and then I have to go to the grocery store to restock Maude’s kitchen.”

  Parker had the feeling she was thinking out loud rather than talking to him. But then she locked that big-eyed gaze on him and said, “Say, I have an idea. Why don’t you come with me?”

  “Why? My pantry isn’t bare.”

  “Please,” she countered, frowning. “You can’t call a can of tomato soup and a half dozen eggs a stocked kitchen. Besides, I have a favor to ask you, and if you say yes—and I’m really, really hoping you will—you’ll need more than a bottle of root beer and a tub of margarine.”

  “Favor?”

  “Well, see,” she began, pointing, “you have that big fancy gas grill and this enormous deck overlooking the Atlantic. So I was thinking… how nice would it be to have a cookout up here? Just my mom and dad, Adam and Frank, your mom and Hank, you and me and—”

  “On the Fourth.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  When her eyebrows drew together, Parker knew she’d picked up on his “I’m not into family gatherings” clue.

  She took a step closer. “Look. Parker. All you’l
l have to do is be here. I’ll do all the cooking, the setting up and taking down, the—”

  “Setting up and taking down? Sheesh, Hol, what kind of shindig are you planning?”

  “Just your typical, average, everyday fami—” She cleared her throat. “An ordinary cookout, that’s all. No biggie. A few hot dogs, burgers, potato salad, baked beans, apple pie,” she singsonged, “some Old Glory-type decorations…”

  “Decorations.”

  “You know, red-white-and-blue stuff. Tablecloths, paper plates, and napkins, a couple of streamers, a few flags…” Grinning, she grabbed his hands and brought them together with a clap. “It’ll be fun, you’ll see. Especially once it’s dark, when they start shooting off fireworks. And how lucky will we be, that we’ll just have to face your deck chairs toward the fishing pier!”

  Parker had never been the type to wish his life away, but right now, he wished he could be a little more like Holly and just enjoy the little things life had to offer. Was it fair to rain on her parade just because he couldn’t? He shook his head. “So what time will everybody get here?”

  “Is that a yes?”

  Though the chances that he’d ever have a daughter were slim to none, something told Parker that a kid of his own would inspire similar do-anything-for-her sensations in him. Besides, how bad could it be, putting it up with inane party banter for a couple of hours? If he could hold his own despite frigid temperatures in cramped quarters, never knowing when the enemy might strike or what he’d look like when he did, he could—

  “Well, is it? A yes, I mean?”

  Maybe Holly’s cousin wasn’t the only one who needed a shrink, because how far gone was a guy who compared the hardships of war to a backyard barbecue? Chuckling, he said, “Aw, why not?”

  Holly threw herself into his arms. “Oh, wow, Parker. Thanks. You’re the best.”

  Eyes closed, he buried his face in her mass of golden curls, inhaling the light, flowery scent of her shampoo, memorizing the way her pretty little face nestled into the crook of his neck as if made to fit there, committing to memory the way she sighed and snuggled close, so close that not even the warm wind blowing in from the Atlantic could have come between them. What a shame, he thought, what a stinking, rotten shame that Maude had suddenly decided to come clean.

  His mother’s confession squealed through his brain like an old-fashioned tape recorder on fast-forward. If it hadn’t meant letting go of Holly, he would have clamped both hands over his ears to blot out the awful noise. Why was it that being hit with shrapnel, rifle fire, and the remnants of IEDs hadn’t left him feeling anywhere near as weak as being informed?

  “I promise,” Holly said, her sweet voice muffled by his T-shirt, “you won’t have to lift a finger.”

  Here he stood, holding in his arms the best and most beautiful thing life had ever given him. So close, he thought, holding her at arm’s length, yet so far. So very, very far. He studied her face: the gentle arch of her eyebrows, thick lashes that dusted freckled cheeks, that slightly elfin nose, a smile that lit every dark corner of his heart, and bright blue eyes that he was certain had read every story written on his battered soul…

  …and yet she loved him.

  Even if he’d been blinded when that shell exploded, he’d feel that love beaming out at him. “I’m yours for the taking” was the silent message that traveled the invisible thread linking her gaze to his.

  “You really are the best, you know,” she said, smiling.

  The best, indeed. What was that old saying? “You can’t take your happiness at the expense of others.” Well, if he took Holly up on her loving offer, that’s exactly what he’d be doing. Which would make him exactly like Maude.

  “I’m thinking baked beans…”

  Was there a chance that what he saw glowing in her eyes was wishful thinking? That it wasn’t love shining out at him, but the simple and genuine goodness that lived in her soul?

  “…and that flag cake recipe I saw on the cover of a magazine at the grocery store.”

  Nope, not a chance that he was wrong. Parker would have bet the boat and the house and Ben’s future on it. So he had two weeks, as he saw it, to do the right thing. He didn’t know how he’d accomplish it, only that he owed it to her to help her realize that she’d have a better chance at happiness even with that clown she’d dated after losing her fiancé than with the likes of him. For now, to make sure she enjoyed every minute of her family’s visit, he’d be on his best behavior. She deserved that. But once they were gone, he’d—

  “What’s your favorite, Parker?”

  Favorite?

  “Grilled chicken? Pork chops? T-bones? Baby back ribs?”

  “I thought we were gonna keep it simple, just burgers and dogs.”

  “Well, those too, of course. I just thought”—she traced the logo on his T-shirt then bored into his eyes—“that it might be nice to add your favorite to the menu.”

  Parker could count on one hand the number of times he’d cried since entering adulthood, but if she kept this up, he’d have another time to add to the list, because it was killing him that he couldn’t make her his own.

  “Y’know, since you’re so generously offering up your house for the—”

  “Holly?”

  “Hmm?” She tilted her head and batted her eyes. Was he seeing things? Or was she flirting with him?

  “Holly,” he repeated.

  “Parker?”

  “You’d better knock it off.”

  She grinned, proving him right: she was flirting with him. Blatantly. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d pressed a palm to each of his cheeks. “Knock what off?”

  Blanketing her hands with his, he ground out, “You know very well what.”

  “I do?”

  “Holly…”

  “That’s my name; don’t wear it out,” she singsonged, reminding him of every bratty girl he’d ever gone to school with.

  He had two choices: tell her to take a hike and spare himself having to do it after her family went back to Baltimore, or kiss the daylights out of her, right here, right now.

  Thankfully his cell phone rang, because Parker had a feeling it would have been the latter, which would only have made his “take a hike” speech doubly hard to deliver. “News about Ben,” he whispered as she stepped back.

  Smiling, she leaped into the air with a jubilant fist pump then folded her hands and closed her eyes, mouthing a prayer.

  “He’s safe and sound and in Germany with my buddy,” Parker said, snapping the phone shut. Mostly to himself, he added, “Don’t that just beat all.”

  “How wonderful,” Holly said, taking hold of his hands. “Thank the good Lord!”

  If it turned out that God had anything to do with it, Parker decided, he’d be the first to thank the Big Guy. For now, he’d give credit where credit was due: Hank Donovan and the links in his amazing owe-you-a-favor chain.

  “How soon can you bring him home?”

  “Couple of weeks at best. Red tape has us all tied up, but Hank is working on that too.”

  “Hank?” she echoed. “Too?”

  Holly looked stunned when he explained Hank’s part in bringing about this happy result. “The way he was talking earlier, I just naturally assumed you were working on this all by yourself.”

  Parker nodded. “That’s Hank. Humble to a fault.”

  “As soon as the July Fourth festivities are over, I’ll have to start planning a real party.”

  “A… What? Why?”

  She looked at him as if he’d grown a third eye. “To celebrate Ben’s arrival, of course, and to show our gratitude to Hank for all he did to make everything possible.”

  “Wouldn’t a simple welcome and thank-you suffice? Do we really need to—”

  “Yes. We do.”

  He didn’t know when or how she’d ended up in his arms again, but if Hank was right and he’d regret letting her go for the rest of his life, Parker aimed to enjoy this for as long as he
could.

  * * * * *

  After a restless night of tossing and turning and pacing the house, Parker ate a light breakfast of cornflakes and coffee. He told himself, as he slid in behind the wheel of his pickup, that if he ever hoped to have peace of mind again, he needed to stop fixating on Maude’s confession and start remembering all the good things she’d done over the years. But bitterness and resentment, he realized, was a hard habit to break.

  He’d hoped that spending some time alone with her would get him on the right track—bring those good things to the front of his brain and, with any luck, blot out the bad. So he’d stopped off at the florist’s on his way to her rehab center and bought a big, bright Get Well balloon, a bouquet of summer blooms, and a box of chocolates. He drew the line at the blank-inside card—the only kind available on the spinning rack beside the counter—because the last thing he’d needed was to add yet another lie to those already separating him from his mom.

  She’d looked good, all things considered, limping around on her almost-healed feet, and he did his best to smile and laugh while bringing her up-to-date on the book project and Holly’s comings and goings and what the turtles had been up to lately. They might have been total strangers, sitting there discussing the weather and politics and how the sagging economy had all but dried up donations to the lighthouse project. Thirty minutes of that had been exactly twenty-nine minutes too many, and once he arranged her gifts on the windowsill, Parker gave her a quiet kiss and a light hug and all but bolted for the door.

  He deliberately hadn’t mentioned the whole Daniel debacle, and he couldn’t help but wonder, as he sat in the Charleston marina parking lot, why she hadn’t brought it up. Just more classic Maude, he told himself. Unfortunately, the admission did little to make her cavalier attitude easier to bear.

  Parker got out of the truck, telling himself it would only be for a minute and only to stretch his legs. The next thing he knew, he’d made his way down the wooden walkway between two boats, one a sloop called The Water Wench, the other a schooner with Sea Stallion emblazoned on her stern. That clanking on board hadn’t been caused by the rigging, and he scanned the deck and spied movement in the cockpit, where a shadowy figure was bent over the pedestal. Adjusting the compass, Parker thought, or adjusting the throttle. He didn’t know what made the man look up just then, but when he did, Parker immediately recognized him as the man from the restaurant. He remembered how the woman in the wheelchair had insisted they looked alike. He’d agreed then, and he agreed even more so now. But was this Daniel Brant? Daniel Brant, his father?