by Loree Lough
Almost.
* * * * *
A soft August wind riffled Holly’s hair as she faced the Atlantic. It was still warm enough to walk barefoot on the beach, and she was determined to do it as often as possible before the sad and inevitable happened and she had to aim her little convertible north to Baltimore.
She’d thought of little else besides Parker’s kiss—or, more accurately, the way he’d returned her kiss—because it roused so many conflicting emotions and questions.
Her reaction was all the proof she needed that she’d finally reached a place of peaceful acceptance of Jimmy’s death, and it stirred newfound joy, because that kiss was the closest Parker had come to admitting his feelings for her. But how deep did those feelings go? He’d never been one to beat around the bush, so if he loved her, wouldn’t he have said so straight-out?
She’d given him the benefit of the doubt, blaming his on again–off again displays of affection on bad romantic experiences of his past…getting Ben to America safe and sound… and on his mother’s worrisome health and the shocking confession it inspired. But Ben had blended into Parker’s world as if he’d been born to it, just as Parker had melded with the Brants, and Maude was out of danger and contentedly planning her wedding.
Flustered, Holly kicked the sand. She was a grown-up, so why was she behaving like a silly teenager who was too shy to admit that she’d developed a crush on a cute boy in study hall? She’d been on her own for years, making big-girl decisions that earned the respect of scientists and educators, friends and family. She’d earned her own respect too, working her way through school and securing a position that allowed her to live on her own and come and go as she pleased. So where was it written that the decision about her future with Parker was his and his alone?
The answer, unfortunately, was all wrapped up in fear and uncertainty. Because what if she laid her cards on the table and admitted that she loved him…
…and he didn’t feel the same way?
That would hurt almost as much as losing Jimmy had, that’s what.
Bending, Holly picked up a stone rounded by the unrelenting surf. She identified with it just a little bit, because the ebb and flow of life itself had smoothed her rough edges too. If she left here next week never knowing whether or not Parker loved her too…? She’d be hurt—and disappointed. And she’d probably always wonder what if… . “But you aren’t going to die, for heaven’s sake.”
She had a wonderful family—and because of Maude’s confession, a new appreciation for every single one of them—and a fulfilling job. Before leaving for Folly Beach, she’d finished decorating her Ellicott-City town house exactly the way she liked it. She loved her sporty little convertible, even if, as her cousins pointed out, it was impractical in the wintertime. And she’d been blessed with good health. Every woman, she supposed, needed a “one who got away” story. Holly tossed the stone back into the Atlantic. “And now you’ve got yours.”
She’d completed her final edits on the book he’d titled Folly Beach: The Edge of America, and once Parker gave the manuscript his stamp of approval, they’d type “The End” on the last page and send it off to his New York editor. With a final tally of nearly forty nests producing nearly four thousand hatchlings, the turtles’ migration was over. Holly’s work here was mere days from ending, and when it did, so would her reasons for staying in Folly Beach.
Baltimore was where she’d been born and raised, so why did this quaint little town feel so much like home to her?
Holly could answer that one with one word: Parker.
She could lay it all out there—confess her love and force him to say yea or nay to a future together. But with all he’d been through, with all he’d continue going through in the next weeks and months, Holly loved him too much to add to his burdens. Besides, if God had intended for the two of them to be together, wouldn’t He have shown them a sign by now?
Instead, she’d rely on Him to provide her with all the strength she’d need to remember this summer—and the very special man who’d touched her heart—with warmth and fondness. It wouldn’t be easy, getting through these next few days, but with God to guide her, she’d do it. And Holly knew exactly how she’d start—once she secured Parker’s permission to borrow his kitchen and dining room. If everything went well, maybe she’d give him something to remember about her summer in Folly Beach too.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Holly figured the Brants had a right to some private moments, considering the newness of it all, but that didn’t stop her from wondering why, in one minute, Parker seemed off in a world of his own, and in the next, he and one of his siblings were off in a corner, whispering. And why did they all look so…so odd when she caught them at it?
They gathered around Parker’s dining room table, eating and chatting and laughing like they’d been doing it all their lives. It felt good, seeing them together this way, and it would be another beautiful scene she could remember once she returned to her life in Baltimore.
She’d baked a ham and made all the trimmings, using generations-old recipes handed down from both sides of her family. Holly knew the meal was a success when Parker’s stepmother, sister, and sisters-in-law all asked if she’d share the instructions for each dish.
It seemed odd, celebrating without Maude and Hank, but Holly had a feeling that, in time, even they’d be included in this warm family circle. It was definitely something she intended to pray for—not only for Maude’s sake, but for Parker’s as well.
Hours after the table had been cleared and the dishes were done, Daniel suggested going to the beach for coffee and a second round of dessert. While the adults carried things down from the deck, Dan and his grandchildren combed the sand for driftwood and produced a bright, hand-warming fire.
Holly had just handed a toasted marshmallow to Ben when Parker said to her, “How about taking a boat ride with me?” “Just me?”
“Just you.”
She glanced around at the smirking faces of his family. Why didn’t they seem to be surprised that he’d asked her to go off with him and leave them without a host or hostess? “But what about—”
“Don’t worry about us,” his dad said. “We aren’t shy. If we need anything, we’ll help ourselves.”
Every Brant, from the eldest to the youngest, snickered and chorused their agreement.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a conspiracy afoot?” she teased as Parker led her toward the pier.
A smattering of giggles was her only answer.
“I have to admit, it’s a lovely night for a cruise, but it just seems odd…and a little rude, if you don’t mind my saying—”
He handed her a life jacket then fired up the boat’s motor. “I don’t mind a bit.”
“Where are we going?”
“Not far. I have something to show you.” He winked over at her.
“Trust me.”
They motored for a few minutes, and then Parker eased the Sea Maverick alongside a weathered old wharf and tied off. He jumped onto the dock and held out one hand to her, and Holly gladly took it. One more scene for the memory book…
Behind him, the dim glow of lantern light created a tiny, sunny halo above a small table. On one side of it was a sheet-covered easel, and on the other, a white Adirondack chair.
“So that’s where the missing chair went!” One hand on her hip, Holly said, “But I don’t get it. Why did you—”
He slid a shiny silver package from under the table and handed it to her. “Sit,” he said, gesturing toward the chair, “and open it.”
“Parker, I don’t understa—”
“Humor me,” he said, holding up a hand, traffic-cop style. Then he slid a cooler from under the table and withdrew two long-stemmed goblets and a bottle of sparkling water. He filled the first glass and, holding the bottle aloft, said, “Well, what are you waiting for?”
Heaving a huge sigh, Holly sat down. Holding the bread box–sized package, she gave it a little shak
e. “Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”
“No hints,” he said, filling the second goblet. “Just get busy.”
She loosed another sigh then untied the enormous white-satin bow. “This is goofy, Parker. It isn’t my birthday or—”
Eyes narrowed, he raised one brow, and the silent warning made her giggle and get back to work. Inside the outer box she found a smaller one, wrapped exactly the same way, and in it, a third. Then a fourth, until she found one the size of a paperback novel. Well, she thought, lifting it from its tissue-paper bed, it isn’t an engagement ring. Those always come in little square boxes.
Right?
The admission shouldn’t have disappointed her, but it did. Maybe he’d bought her a gift certificate, a thank-you for all the work she’d done on the book. And then as she removed the lid, she remembered their agreement: he’d pay her at the end of summer, using advance monies paid by his publisher. The box was the perfect size and shape to hold a check.
Swallowing another bit of disappointment, she started digging through the tissue paper inside. But Parker grabbed her hands and stopped her.
“That’s far enough. For now.” He put the boxes onto the table, one at a time, and pulled her to her feet. “This,” he said, turning her to face the easel, “is for you.” And then he whipped off the sheet and exposed a portrait of them, side by side aboard his boat, with the bright June sunset behind them.
She stepped closer to get a better look. Had he enlarged the photograph the Davises had taken of them that day during the comical three-hour tour? No, she discovered as her finger slid down the canvas, this was a painting. And upon closer inspection, she saw his signature in the lower right-hand corner.
Straightening, she looked into his eyes. “Parker, when did you have time to paint this? Your life has been pure chaos lately—”
“I worked on it nights when I couldn’t sleep… .”
No doubt there had been plenty of those, what with Maude’s emergency surgeries, all he’d gone through to get Ben to America, and then finding out he had a father and a whole big loving family.
“…for thinking about you.”
Then he produced a flashlight from inside the cooler and led her farther up the beach.
“Oh, wow, it’s that cute little boat,” she said, grinning. “I’ve never been this close to it before.” She grabbed the flashlight and started reading out loud: “CLASS OF ’92 ROCKS! JULIE AND TIMMY 4-EVER. MARTY ‘HEARTS’ VALERIE.” She giggled. “And look at this one.” She stepped closer. “Why, it’s so fresh, you can still smell the paint!”
“Really. What’s it say?”
“It just says ‘MARRY ME.’ Aw, that’s so sad.”
“Sad?”
She nodded. “The writer didn’t even have the confidence to add the person’s name.” Holly thought she knew how the message-writer felt exactly. “I sure hope whomever wrote it gets the answer she wants. Or he. Whichever…”
“Yeah. Me too.” Then he took her hand and guided her back to the chair.
And like an obedient and very confused child, Holly sat, her heart pounding like a parade drum as he got onto one knee in front of her. The last time—the only other time he’d done this— Parker had kissed her like she’d never been kissed. Holly didn’t know if she could survive a second one, knowing that, day after tomorrow, there wouldn’t be a third.
But instead of kissing her, Parker rummaged through the tissue in the box and withdrew a ring. “I know it’ll fit,” he said, “because I took the liberty of poking through your jewelry box one afternoon while you were visiting Maude at the rehab center. I borrowed one of your rings so I’d be sure to get the right size.”
Gently, he took her left hand in his and held the ring between his right thumb and forefinger. “Put this on,” he said, turning it right and left so that it reflected the silvery beams of the moon, before giving a nod toward the painting, “and you can have that for a wedding gift.”
“This? I—I…” She couldn’t decide what to look at, the boat with its semi-cryptic message, the beautiful painting, the glittering ring, or Parker’s handsome, loving face. “You’re…are you? Is this a—”
Tears filled her eyes as her lower lip began to tremble. She’d already packed her suitcases and made up her mind to go home. Gassed up the car and everything, so she’d be ready to hit the road running, back to her job at the university and her humble town house, where she’d try her level best to keep a rational perspective on every magical moment that made up this, the best summer of her life.
“I know it’s asking a lot. I’m a mess. My life is a mess. This whole ‘surprise, you have a big family’ thing, and Maude, and Ben…”
He’d completely misunderstood the reason for her hesitation. For her tears too. If she could only find her voice, she’d explain that none of those things mattered, that—
“…but I promise you, Holly,” he continued, “it’s temporary. All of it. I’ll get a handle on all that. But I’ll have a lot more incentive to do it faster with you at my side.”
She thought of all the endings so recently crossed off her to-do list and, still unable to speak past the sob in her throat, Holly nodded and smiled and threw herself into his arms…
…and knocked him flat on his back in the sand.
Laughing and crying at the same time, she tried to apologize, but Parker stopped her with one finger pressed over her lips. “I couldn’t have orchestrated a more fitting beginning to ‘us,’ ” he said. Taking her in his arms, he added, “Holly Folly, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Parker Brant, you are the answer to my prayers. Of course I’ll marry you!”
She dotted his face with kisses, pausing only to ask, “What took you so long?”
About the Author
With more than 3 million of her books in circulation, Loree has 82 books (three optioned for movies), 67 short stories, and more than 2,500 articles in print. Dubbed by reviewers “a writer whose stories touch hearts and change lives,” she has earned hundreds of Readers’ Choice and industry awards. Loree will add five more titles to her list before the fall of 2012.
When she isn’t writing, you can find her in the kitchen (cooking up things that explain her lifetime Weight Watchers membership), the garden (killing any bug that crosses her path), painting/sketching (one of her pen-and-ink drawings hangs in the home of actress Lea Thompson), and reading other authors’ books. You can read her “writerly rantings” at www.theloughdown.blogspot.com and in her monthly column, “Loree’s Lough Down” (Christian Fiction Online Magazine).
Loree and her husband split their time between a little house in the Baltimore suburbs and a really little cabin in the Allegheny Mountains. She loves to hear from her readers and personally answers every letter sent to www.loreelough.com.
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