by Sophie Moss
He’d told her she was selfish, that she was making a huge mistake. When she’d offered to come over and get her things, he’d told her to wait until later this week when he was at work, so he wouldn’t have to see her.
Her father looked down at the ring on the bench between them, his gaze lingering on the diamond glittering in the soft morning light. When he looked back up, his eyes were sad. “I thought you loved Tom, that he was what you wanted. I didn’t realize you never really loved him. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like that’s what your mother and I would have wanted. Just because we were high school sweethearts doesn’t mean that everyone will meet their true love in high school. All your mother and I ever wanted was for you to be happy.”
“Are you happy, Dad?” she asked. “You’ve never remarried. You’ve never even dated anybody since Mom. Haven’t you ever wanted to at least try to move on?”
“I’ve never had any interest in anyone but your mother.”
“But aren’t you lonely? Don’t you wish—”
“I wish,” he said gently, “that you would stop trying so hard to make everyone else happy and start thinking about yourself for once.”
She looked down at their joined hands. Was it possible they had both spent all these years trying to make up for what they thought they’d done—she inadvertently causing the accident and he falling apart afterwards—that they hadn’t taken the time to consider what they needed individually?
What would happen if she opened up to him? If she told him the truth? If she didn’t try so hard to be the strong one? If she let him be her father again?
“You’re falling for Colin, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.
She nodded as another tear slipped free. She brushed it away, but she didn’t try to hide her face from him anymore. “He’s leaving, Dad. He got a job offer in Colorado. I can’t ask him to stay here for me. I don’t want to hold him back. I don’t want to make the same mistake I made with Tom.”
“Colin’s not Tom,” her father said. “You need to tell him how you feel. If you don’t, you’ll always wonder.”
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said, squeezing her hand.
“What I feel for Colin… It’s…” She shook her head, unable to put it into words. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”
“All love is risk, Becca,” her father said gently. “It’s true that losing your mother almost killed me, and I will always regret how I handled things after the accident. But I would never have taken back one moment of my life with her.” His brown eyes softened, reflecting the memories that no one would ever be able to take away from him. “I would rather have a love as strong as I had with your mother for a single day than a lukewarm love that lasted a lifetime.”
Walking home a half hour later, Becca thought about what her father had said—that all love was risk. She had never considered herself much of a risk taker. She had spent most of her life choosing the paths that were safe, the ones that would result in the least possibility of getting hurt.
But was that any way to live? Without taking risks, how would you ever know what you were truly capable of? How would you ever know how happy you could be? How would you ever know if someone you loved felt the same way about you, unless you found the courage to tell him?
She thought about the risk Annie had taken in going after Will six months ago. After spending five weeks on the island—the first time he’d been home in over ten years—Will had left abruptly when his SEAL team had been called up for a mission, without any plans to ever return. Becca had been one of the first people who’d encouraged Annie to go after him. She’d been the one to purchase the plane ticket and put it in her friend’s hand. With Grace, Ryan and Della’s help, she’d practically forced Annie onto that flight to San Diego.
But Annie and Will’s situation had been so different. Will had been in love with Annie. Anyone who’d seen them together had known that. And the bond between Will and Taylor had grown so strong in those five short weeks, that if Annie hadn’t gone after him, the rest of the islanders would have gone for her.
Following the thin path that skirted the edge of the marshes, Becca thought back to what Annie had said to her a few days ago, when they’d been talking in her kitchen: ‘I saw the way you looked at Colin today. And the way he looked at you. There wasn’t a person in that room who couldn’t see the chemistry between you.’
Letting her fingertips trail along the tops of the grasses, Becca knew it was true. There was no question there had been chemistry between them since the first night they’d met. But was it fair of her to ask him to stay—to turn down a job offer he was obviously interested in if he’d flown all the way out to Colorado to interview for it—when they hadn’t even gone on a single date yet?
The soft ground gave way to pavement and she was back on her street. A few neighbors were waking up, sipping coffee on their porches or wandering out to the sidewalk to retrieve the morning paper. Randy Cole’s black lab was outside, chasing bunnies through Gladys Schaefer’s flowerbeds, her tail wagging, her nose wet with dew. She could hear children running around inside some of the houses, their squeals and laughter drifting out the windows, into the street.
What if Colin had finally realized that Heron Island wasn’t big enough for him? That he needed more out of life? That he was destined for greater things?
Who was she to hold him back from that?
Turning up the path to her house, she glanced up at the porch, and stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart jumped, thumping against her rib cage as she took in the man sitting on her steps.
Colin rose slowly.
“I-I thought you were in Colorado,” Becca stammered.
“I was.”
Becca’s heart beat faster. What was he doing here? Had he come back to say goodbye? To tell her that he was leaving? That he needed to start his new job right away? She forced herself to remain calm, to put one foot in front of the other as she started toward him. “Annie told me about Austin…about the job.”
Colin nodded, never taking his eyes off hers as she slowly closed the distance between them. “It was a tempting offer.”
She paused, looking up at him, her heart in her throat. “You’re not taking it?”
“No.”
A seed of hope sprouted inside her, stretching up toward the sun. “Why not?”
“Because it wasn’t on Heron Island,” he said, reaching for her hand, “and you weren’t there.”
Petals unfurled, blooming inside her.
“I saw Grace’s article,” Colin said quietly. “I called her afterwards, to thank her.” His fingers curled around Becca’s—safe, warm, secure. “She told me you were the one who gave her the pictures.”
Becca nodded.
He turned her hand over slowly, gazing down at her bare fingers. “And that you weren’t engaged anymore.”
“I’m not,” she said softly.
He lifted his eyes back to hers, brushing his thumb over the spot where her ring had been. All around them, birds chirped from the branches of the trees. Down the street, a neighbor’s sprinkler clicked on, shooting a cheerful spray of water into the flowerbeds.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Becca asked. “Are you sure this island, and the inn, will be enough for you?”
Colin smiled. “I’m not taking the job in Colorado because Austin and I came to a different arrangement, one that’s much more appealing to both of us.”
Becca waited for him to go on.
“We both want to expand on what we’re doing, to open more of these centers all over the country,” Colin explained. “We’re going to use Will’s inn and the center in Colorado as models. As soon as both places are up and running, we’re going to reach out to everyone we know and see how many people we can recruit who might be willing to open similar places in their hometowns. We’re going into business together. Austin will run the West Coast side of t
he operations from L.A., and I’ll head up the East Coast side from here.”
Becca held her breath. “Here?”
He nodded. “I’m going to keep my apartment in Annapolis. I’ll probably be back and forth a fair amount, at least in the beginning, but I’ll spend most of my time on Heron Island.”
Risk, Becca thought, as early morning sunlight slanted into the yard, bathing them both in a warm golden glow. If this wasn’t worth risking everything for, then what was? “Colin, I—”
His mouth was on hers before she could finish her sentence, before she could even say the words out loud.
And what was there to say, really? Hadn’t they talked enough?
He had come back. He had decided to stay. That was all the answer she’d needed.
Melting into him, she surrendered to the kiss. She gave into the feeling of falling, of losing control, of letting everything go but the two of them and this moment. His arms came around her and she felt something shift, like rocks tumbling from a stone wall. The base crumbled, washing away, until there was nothing but grass and flowers—row after row of beautiful flowers swaying in the wind.
Colin pulled back slowly, laying his forehead against hers. “I want to spend the day with you, Becca,” he murmured, touching her cheek. “Just you.”
“I’d like that,” she whispered.
“And then,” he said, his hand skimming down her arm, reaching for her hand, “I’d like to take you out. On a date. Somewhere nice. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere in St. Michaels or Easton where we can talk and get to know each other, without everyone on the island watching us.”
She glanced up at him, surprised. He’d never seemed like the kind of person who cared what other people thought.
He nodded over her shoulder and she turned, following his gaze to where several of her neighbors were standing in their front yards dressed only in their robes and pajamas, gaping at them.
She turned back, stifling a laugh. “I haven’t had a chance to tell everyone that the wedding’s off.”
Colin’s lips curved as he went in for another longer, deeper kiss. “Maybe you won’t have to now.”
No, Becca thought, laughing. She knew how fast gossip traveled on this island. She pulled back, smiling, and gave her neighbors a friendly wave, as if it were perfectly normal for her to be kissing Colin when she was supposed to be marrying Tom in two weeks.
She had no doubt that the entire village would know that the wedding was off in less than an hour.
Turning, together, they started to walk up to the porch. They were almost to the top step when a flash of light caught her eye. Becca looked up at a tiny wind chime that Taylor had made for her months ago. It hung from one of the beams, spinning slowly as rays of light bounced off the pieces of a mirror Taylor had salvaged from a garage sale.
Becca reached up, touching one of the small reflective pieces, as a crazy thought began to take shape.
“Colin?”
“Yes?”
“How would you like to be my date at a wedding in two weeks?”
He looked back at her. “Whose?”
“Well…” she said, letting her hand fall away from the chime. “I don’t know if they’re going to go for it yet, but I have an idea…”
Two weeks later…
Twinkle lights shimmered through the leaves of every tree in the backyard at the inn. Wind chimes dangled from the branches, filling the air with their soft, lilting melodies as they swayed in the breezes blowing off the Bay. Mason jars filled with white candles flickered from the lawn, leading over two hundred guests on meandering paths between the inn, the pier, the picnic areas, the buffet, and the dessert table—which was where Colin was headed now, in search of a slice of that famous Smith Island Cake everyone kept talking about.
Skirting the edge of the dance floor, where a local band was getting ready to play, he waved to a group of people walking out of the inn. Most of the islanders had been in for a tour by now, eager to see the transformation. The construction had wrapped up a few days ago, and Annie, Will and Taylor would be moving into the brand new wing this weekend.
He’d been surprised at how many people had come up to him this evening to tell him how good it looked, how happy they were that he’d brought this place back to life. He’d expected most of the praise to have gone to Will, since the place technically belonged to him, but maybe some of the islanders were actually starting to accept Colin as one of them.
It hadn’t hurt that Grace’s article had destroyed his mother’s professional reputation and the board had subsequently fired her and dropped the threat to close the elementary school. With Taylor’s grandfather’s generous contribution, they had approved the renovations to the gym for that summer and found a way to fund the rest of the operating expenses with state money. All the teachers and staff would get to keep their jobs, and since Shelley hadn’t found a replacement for Becca yet, Becca had gladly accepted her old position back.
He looked across the lawn, at where Becca was talking with Grace by the water. He’d been concerned when she’d first come up with the idea of handing her entire wedding over to Annie and Will that it might be difficult for her to attend as a guest. But as far as he could tell, the fact that this event was supposed to have been hers didn’t seem to be fazing her at all. In a blue sundress, with a glass of pink champagne in her hand, she had never looked happier and more beautiful to him than she did tonight.
Passing by the old hackberry tree, he lifted his own glass in a silent toast to Will, who was chatting with Ryan and Jake, his arms wrapped securely around his bride. It was hard to believe that next weekend, the inn would officially open for business. A bunch of guys from their former team were flying out from San Diego to be here for the event on Memorial Day, as well as close to three hundred people he’d met working in Annapolis and volunteering at Walter Reed over the past year.
The next day, the first eleven veterans who were coming to stay with them would arrive. He already had jobs lined up for most of them on the island. Six of the men and two of the women would be working on Ryan’s father’s oyster farm. It would be hard work and it wouldn’t pay much at first, but they wouldn’t have any living expenses, and it would at least get their hands moving and their heads back in the right place. The ones who’d been too badly injured to do the heavy manual labor could work on the public relations side—marketing, branding, website development, building relationships with chefs, distributors, and other professionals who worked in the local seafood industry.
The whole thing was an experiment, and he knew they’d hit a few bumps along the way, but he couldn’t wait to get started.
He’d officially stepped down from his position at the State House the week before. He felt confident that the jobs program was in good hands with the rest of the team who’d helped him make it a reality. After getting off to a wobbly start, it was slowly starting to pick up traction again.
Richard Goldwater’s party was still scrambling to try to find more instances of corruption related to his father, but so far they hadn’t had any luck. He and his father had had a long talk after Grace’s article had come out, about a lot of things—things they probably should have talked about years ago.
His father wasn’t perfect. He’d made some mistakes in his life. But who hadn’t?
What mattered now was that they were back on good terms. They had both agreed that Colin wouldn’t have anything to do with the rest of the campaign. For the first time ever, they were going to try to have a normal father-son relationship—one that didn’t have anything to do with politics.
Spotting Luke and Courtney at the far end of the dessert table, he walked over to them. Della had outdone herself, baking around the clock for the past several days to create a mouthwatering spread of meringue pies, berry tarts, lemon bars, iced sugar cookies cut out in the shape of wedding bells, and of course, those famous Smith Island Cakes—a local specialty that featured ten layers of rich, buttery cake, each separated by a laye
r of icing.
“Which one should I try first?” he asked, when Courtney handed him a plate.
“Coconut,” Luke said quickly, then hesitated. “No. Wait…chocolate!” He came over to stand beside Colin, peering down at the cakes. “Or caramel,” he said, pointing at one in the middle. He looked up at Colin and grinned, his mouth covered in icing. “I like them all.”
“You should try the traditional one first,” Courtney said, cutting him a slice. “It’s yellow cake with chocolate fudge icing.” She lifted the serving knife, sliding a piece onto his plate.
Colin took a bite and let out a groan. “That’s insanely good.”
Courtney smiled. “Della had a great-aunt who lived on Smith Island. She learned how to make them from her.”
Colin took a few more bites, then picked up the serving knife Courtney had set down. He cut a generous slice of red velvet and added it to his plate.
Beside him, Luke’s eyes widened. “What kind is that?”
“I think it’s red velvet.” He broke off a small piece with his fingers, popping it into his mouth. “Yep,” he nodded. “With cream cheese icing.” He looked down at Luke. “You want a piece?”
Luke nodded, grabbing a new plate.
Colin started to cut another slice, then glanced up at Courtney for approval. “Is that okay?”
“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Courtney said to her son, but she nodded her consent to Colin.
Colin laid the cake on Luke’s plate. The kid was already gobbling it up with his fingers before Colin had set the knife back down on the table.
“Here,” Courtney said, wiping at Luke’s mouth with a napkin and then stuffing a few clean napkins in his pocket. “At least take a few of these with you.”
Luke finished the cake and grinned up at his mother as he wiped fingers covered in icing all over his shirt.
