Wind Chime Wedding (A Wind Chime Novel Book 2)

by Sophie Moss

  “I have a jar of peanut butter.”

  “Did you eat anything before you left the house this morning?”

  Luke looked back down at his feet, lowering his voice. “I usually eat breakfast at school.”

  “What time do they serve breakfast?”

  “Seven forty-five,” Luke said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Colin checked his watch. “It’s almost eight o’clock. If we leave now, we might still be able to catch it.”

  Luke looked back up at him hopefully.

  “Come on,” Colin said. He kept his tone upbeat to mask the anger building inside him. “I stopped at a fast food restaurant on drive over. I might have a leftover hash brown in the car. It’s probably cold, but—”

  “I like hash browns.”

  Colin nodded toward where his truck was parked, and Luke followed him back across the field. They climbed into the cabin and Colin handed him the bag with the cold hash brown. By the time they got back to the main road, Luke had already wolfed it down. They drove in silence as Colin thought about the conversation he was going to have with Jimmy soon. It wasn’t long before he could feel the kid’s eyes on him.

  He glanced over and Luke looked away quickly.

  Gazing back at the road, Colin waited a few beats, then glanced back. The kid was staring at him again.

  “What’s up?” Colin asked.

  Luke’s gaze dropped to where he was fiddling with the fast food bag. “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?”

  The paper crunched and crinkled. “That you lost your leg.”

  Ah, Colin thought. The missing leg. Of course. Adults were usually too polite to ask, but most kids hadn’t learned to mask their curiosity behind manners and propriety yet. The first time he’d seen a kid staring at his prosthesis with confusion and maybe even a little bit of fear, it had caught him off guard.

  He was numb to it now. He’d gotten used to the way kids looked at him when he was wearing shorts. He respected their honesty. It was actually kind of refreshing that they didn’t try to avoid it. He wished more people would ask him about it, would talk about it, would just get it out there in the open instead of sneaking glances when he wasn’t looking.

  “You want to see it?” Colin asked.

  Luke nodded hesitantly.

  Colin hiked up the bottom portion of his jeans, revealing the long metal pole that connected his prosthetic foot to the socket where his stump rested just below his left knee.

  “Whoa,” Luke said, his eyes widening.

  Colin let the hem fall back down.

  “Did that happen…in Afghanistan?” Luke asked, his voice filled with awe.

  Colin nodded.

  “How?”

  “A grenade.”

  Luke lifted his gaze back to Colin’s face. “Did it hurt?”

  “It hurt like hell. I mean…” Colin cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “It hurt a lot.”

  “Do you have to wear it all the time?”

  “I take it off at night, and sometimes when I’m at home alone. I can get around pretty well on crutches.” He slowed as they neared the drawbridge, waiting for a charter boat to pass through the channel and the light to turn green. “I have a different prosthesis for running. It’s made of lightweight carbon fiber instead of steel.”

  “You can run…without a real leg?”

  Colin nodded.

  “How far?”

  “I’m training for a marathon. I’m up to about fifteen miles now.”

  “Fifteen miles?” Luke stared up at him in awe. It was the same way kids used to stare at him when he was in his uniform, or when they found out he was a SEAL—back when he was whole. It had been a long time since a kid had looked up to him like that, like he was someone to be admired and respected.

  “Can I see it?”

  “What?” Colin asked.

  “Your running leg?”

  “I don’t have it with me, but I can show you another time.”

  “That would be cool.”

  Cool? Colin looked back over at Luke, who was sitting up straight now, gazing out the windshield with an oddly pleased look on his face, almost like he was proud to be in the passenger seat, like he wasn’t afraid or ashamed of anything anymore.

  The light turned green and the truck rumbled over the wooden planks of the drawbridge, past The Tackle Box where a few islanders were gathered outside, chatting and filling up their cars with gas. He didn’t see Jimmy anywhere. And no one looked particularly concerned, as they would have if they’d known a child was missing.

  “I’m going to drop you off at school, and then swing by your uncle’s house for some dry clothes,” Colin said. “I’ll bring them by later, okay?”

  “Okay,” Luke said.

  Colin would have preferred to take the kid back to Jimmy’s first, but he didn’t want him to overhear their conversation. He was going to have a nice long chat with Luke’s uncle, and he didn’t want the kid around in case things got ugly, which they probably would.

  They drove through the village, past the Wind Chime Café and the quaint cluster of homes, and pulled into the parking lot of the school. There were a few parents dropping their kids off, but it was still early so the lot was fairly empty. Turning off the engine, his gaze lingered for a moment on an unfamiliar black Acura idling in front of the entrance. It was an expensive model, far nicer than most of the cars the islanders drove, and seemed out of place.

  Figuring it must belong to someone’s out of town relative, he opened the door. Luke hopped out on the other side and they were about to start across the lot to the school when both front doors of the Acura opened and a man and a woman stepped out. Colin paused when he spotted Becca.

  Her back was to him, but he caught a glimpse of her profile when she turned and smiled at the man walking around the front of the car to say goodbye. He was dressed in a business suit and his polished shoes clicked over the pavement with each step. He was of average height and build with short brown hair and light eyes. It took a moment for it to register that it was the same man in the picture on her refrigerator—her fiancé.

  Colin watched as Tom leaned down and Becca tilted her face up to meet his, so naturally it was obvious she’d been doing it all her life. The kiss was brief, chaste even, but the sight of it had his heart twisting painfully in his chest.

  “Keegan!” Luke shouted, shouldering his backpack when he spotted one of his friends. “Wait up.”

  Colin tore his gaze from the pair at the entrance, looking back down at Luke.

  “Thanks, Mr. Foley,” Luke said, already jogging across the lot to meet up with his friend. “I’ll see you later.”

  Colin said nothing, not even noticing when someone new walked up beside him. He felt a soft hand touch his arm and he glanced down with a start. Della Dozier’s blue eyes met his.

  “Della.” He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Colin.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “You know that conversation you wanted to have over dinner tonight?”

  He nodded.

  “I think we should have it now.”

  Here.” Della pried the top off a metal tin and held it out to Colin. “I baked these for the teachers to make them feel better, but I think you might need them more.”

  “Thanks,” Colin said drily, but it didn’t stop him from selecting a large lemon bar from the tin and biting into it. The rich, buttery crust was almost enough to make him forget what he’d just seen outside the school—almost.

  Before walking over to sit on one of the benches at the marina across the street, they had gone into the front office to talk to Shelley about Luke. The principal had arranged for the receptionist to retrieve a set of dry clothes from his mother’s house, and promised they would find a stand in for Friday if Jimmy couldn’t be bothered to show up.

  Colin was fairly certain Jimmy would show up after he’d finished with him later, but that could wait until he’d heard what Della had to say.
>
  A seagull cawed, circling overhead, most likely lured by the crumbs from the lemon bar that kept breaking off and falling onto the dock.

  Della set the tin down on the bench between them. The scent of butter and sugar mingled with the salty air. “You know that no one on the island blames you about what’s happening with the school.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that.

  “Becca told us how you tried to save it,” Della said. “It’s not your fault that your mother’s still carrying a grudge against your father. It’s unfortunate that we had to get caught in the crossfire, but this fight isn’t over yet.”

  Colin looked out at the water. Most of the slips that the watermen rented were empty, but a few sailboats bobbed in the sheltered harbor. He could just make out the faint outline of a charter boat in the distance, probably filled with wealthy Western Shore businessmen hoping to land a record setting striped bass during trophy season. The quiet simplicity of it reminded him why he had decided to move here, why he had wanted to open the veterans’ center here, why he had fallen in love with this place from the moment he’d set foot on it.

  “Was that the first time you’d seen Tom?” Della asked.

  Colin nodded, as a heron tiptoed out of the marshes, its long curved neck undulating with each silent step through the shallow water.

  “He’s not the one for her,” Della said quietly.

  Colin watched the blue heron pause, go impossibly still, then plunge its beak into the water and come back out with a wriggling perch. Silver scales flashed in the sunlight before the heron tilted back its elegant head and swallowed the fish whole. “How do you know?”

  “He won’t make her happy,” Della said. “He never has.”

  Colin looked back over at the woman on the bench beside him. Della didn’t like Tom either? If this many people close to Becca didn’t think he was right for her, why were they all letting her go through with it? “If he doesn’t make her happy, then why are they still together?”

  A cloud of sadness passed over Della’s eyes. “Because something happened a long time ago that Becca hasn’t been able to let go of yet.”

  “What?”

  Setting the top back on the tin, Della took a deep breath. “It has to do with their mothers.”

  Colin frowned. “Their mothers?”

  Della nodded. “Becca’s mother and Tom’s mother were best friends. They grew up on the island together. They both taught at the elementary school. They both married their high school sweethearts. They both had their first child the same year.

  “When Becca and Tom were little, their mothers used to joke all the time about them getting married. They used to dress them up and make them have pretend weddings and take lots of pictures. We all thought it was cute and harmless, and it probably was, at the time.

  “As the kids got older, they grew apart. They hung out with different crowds at school. Tom was more interested in sports and partying. Becca preferred to spend most of her time sailing and fishing with Grace and Ryan. By the time they were both sixteen, Tom had made it clear to everyone that he couldn’t wait to leave the island as soon as he could find a decent scholarship to a college as far away as possible. Becca would have been perfectly happy to stay here forever. And that might have been the end of any further connection between them, if it hadn’t been for the night both of their mothers were killed, together, in the same car accident.”

  The lemon bar in Colin’s stomach turned into a hard, heavy brick. He imagined Becca as a teenager, receiving that news, her whole world turned upside down in the blink of an eye. He knew what it felt like to lose people, to wonder why it had happened to them, and not you.

  He thought back to the night in her kitchen, when he’d reached for the charm on her necklace, the flash of pain in her eyes when he’d asked her who she was mourning. It was all starting to make sense now—why she had become a teacher, why the school meant so much to her, why she was marrying a guy she’d met in high school, why that single charm was the only piece of jewelry she ever wore.

  It was all because of her mother. A way to hold onto her memory, a way to never let her go.

  “After the accident,” Della went on, “things were…messy for Becca at home. Her father fell apart and she had to hold things together for both of them. We all tried to help, but she wouldn’t accept it. She refused to talk about what happened to her mother. The only person she would talk to was Tom.”

  Jesus, Colin thought, rubbing a hand over his face. No wonder she couldn’t let go of him.

  “They have a bond,” Della said, “something that forged them together a long time ago under terrible circumstances. They’ve both seen each other at their worst, at their weakest. That’s when they fell in love. But they’ve both grown a lot since then. They’ve both changed, especially Tom.”

  Colin thought about the bonds that had formed between himself and his friends who’d lost teammates at war. He knew how strong those bonds could be, how important they could be as a way to deal with the anger, the grief, the pain. That was part of the reason he’d wanted to start the veterans’ center—to bring people together again who’d been torn apart, to forge those same connections back home.

  Colin looked back out at the water. “Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe they do belong together.”

  “No,” Della said firmly. “Becca belongs here—on Heron Island.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that anymore, Colin thought. Now that he knew what was holding her to Tom, he understood why none of her friends had tried to intervene. Maybe it would be best if he backed off, if he simply let her go.

  “Colin.” Della’s blue eyes lifted, meeting his. “I’m going to say the same thing I said to Annie about Will six months ago. Becca belongs here. All she needs is a reason to stay.”

  All she needs is a reason to stay?

  Walking away from Magnolia Harbor, Colin thought about what Della had said. Yes, he was interested in Becca. Yes, he wanted to explore where things might go between them. But he wasn’t about to break up a fifteen-year relationship between two people who’d obviously been through a lot together, just so he could see where things might go.

  Della had said that Tom had never made Becca happy, but who really knew what went on in any relationship besides the two people who were in it? So what if none of Becca’s friends liked Tom? It was her life. She was smart enough to make her own decisions. And she’d been planning to marry this guy for years.

  Turning on to the street where Jimmy Faulkner lived, he jammed his hands into his pockets. He had let himself get caught up in his feelings for Becca because she was the first woman he had thought about wanting something serious with since his fiancée. He had actually been stupid enough to start thinking about things like marriage and family and children, things he hadn’t allowed himself to think about in a long time.

  He should have known better. It was safer to stay single, to keep his relationships light and simple and meaningless. As long as he felt nothing for the women he went out with, he wouldn’t ever have to risk another rejection.

  Walking up the path to Jimmy’s gray shingled bungalow, he stepped over a broken clay pot that had probably once held a plant, but was filled now with moldy soil and water. Even if Becca did call off the wedding, and they dated for a while, she might eventually realize, like his fiancée had, that he wasn’t enough for her. That she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with a man who wasn’t whole.

  It was time to let her go and refocus on the mission at hand. He would have a quick chat with Jimmy about Luke, check in with the crew at the inn to make sure they were on track to finish in two weeks, stop by the café and apologize to Annie, then head back to Annapolis to help his father with the speech for the announcement about the jobs program tomorrow.

  He climbed the steps to the door and knocked. When no one answered, he noted that the shades were still drawn in all the windows. He tried the handle. It turned easily and he let himself in.

  �
��Jimmy?” he called, stepping into the dark living room.

  The stench of whiskey and cigarette smoke greeted him, along with a disgruntled groan from the man passed out on the couch in front of the television. Jimmy didn’t even bother to get up. He continued to lie there, his baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes, blocking out the rest of the world.

  Colin stood in the doorway, taking in the cigarette butts and ashes scattered over the floor, the dirty dishes crusted with food piled on every flat surface, the empty bottles of bourbon overflowing from the trashcan.

  “Get up,” he said, his voice low and filled with warning.

  “Go away,” Jimmy mumbled through the brim of his cap.

  “Get up,” Colin repeated, slower this time.

  Jimmy ignored him, shifting a little on the cushions to get more comfortable.

  Colin crossed the room, reached down, and hauled the contractor up to his feet. “I said, get up.”

  Jimmy blinked up at him, bleary eyed and barely coherent. “What the hell, man?”

  Colin shoved him, hard, against the wall. A frame fell and glass broke, shattering to the floor.

  “Fuck, man!” Jimmy shuffled his bare feet to avoid stepping on the glass. “What’s your problem?”

  Colin took a step closer, towering over him. “What’s my problem?”

  A brief flicker of fear flashed through the contractor’s bloodshot eyes and Jimmy lifted his hands in a sign of surrender. “I checked in with the crew at the inn over an hour ago. Everyone’s there. Everything’s on track.”

  “I didn’t come here to talk about the inn.” Colin reached around him and jerked the blinds open, flooding the room with sunlight.

  Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut, a pained expression crossing his face before he opened them again, squinting up at Colin. “What did you come here to talk about?”

  “Your nephew.”

  “Luke?” he asked, confused. He glanced around the room, as if he were looking for him, as if he might still be here.

  “I found him walking along the road toward St. Michaels a half an hour ago,” Colin told him.

  Jimmy blinked. “What?”