Love Everlasting (Isle of Hope series Book 2)

by Julie Lessman

  “Nothing that can’t wait for a more opportune time,” she said with a smile, giving him a wave when he finally backed out of her drive. She stole the ball out of Jack’s hands and sprinted toward their homemade basketball court, dribbling all the way.

  A more opportune time.

  Eye on the net, she gave careful aim, soles launching into the air for a 3-pointer that sank as fast as her mood.

  Like when she needed to end a friendship.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sam was having a blast. He glanced over at the bleachers in front of the baseball field where the Camp Hope Farewell Field Day was taking place, and his stomach took a dive.

  But Jazz sure wasn’t.

  Sitting on the top row by herself away from the crowd, she filed her nails, a bored look on her beautiful face. His heart cramped. He hated to see her unhappy, but Camp Hope was an important part of his life now, and he’d hoped she would enjoy this final event for the orphans whose term at Camp Hope was over. Just like Sam had made an effort to enjoy the stuffy fundraiser dinners she dragged him to for museums and the arts. Not that he had anything against music or culture, but people were far more important in his opinion. Especially little people, something he was beginning to realize Jasmine had an aversion to.

  His gaze flicked back to the bleachers. Like the grubby-faced little guy who’d just sat down next to Jazz, causing her to inch several feet away. Sam handed Cat the stopwatch for the upcoming relay. “Take over for a few seconds, will you, Cat? I’ve got to run interference between Rupert and my girl. The kid may only be eight years old, but he’s got an eye for the ladies like I’ve never seen.”

  “And you should know,” Cat quipped, giving him a wink.

  “Hey, I’ve cleaned my act up thanks to your sister, Catfish, so go easy, will you?” He gave her a noogie on her head before striding toward the bleachers, taking them two at a time to plop between Jazz and Rupert. He hooked a protective arm over her shoulder and drew her close. “Hey, man, this is my woman, so you need to go find your own.”

  “Aw, shoot,” Rupert said with a good-natured scowl, ebony face gleaming in the sun, “ain’t none half as pretty as your woman, Doctor Sam, so I don’t know why you cain’t share.” Giving Jazz a wink, he shuffled away with a sheepish grin.

  “Hey, you okay?” Still smiling about Rupert trying to horn in on his girl, Sam leaned close to nibble on Jazz’s ear.

  “I am now,” she whispered, turning to lay one on him that made him forget where he was. “When can we leave?” she whispered, skimming a hand down his thigh that shot fire through his veins, reminding him of the struggle he had with Jazz every time they were alone. “I suddenly have an irresistible urge for some couch time.”

  Couch time.

  As opposed to bed time, the compromise Sam agreed to for watching movies and snuggling. Only it was rapidly becoming a wrestling match every time Jazz lay in his arms, taking every ounce of control he had to keep their relationship aboveboard.

  “After the sack races, which are up next,” he said, twining his fingers with hers to steer her hand from his leg. That’s the last game I’m involved in before the BBQ, which I bet you would enjoy—”

  “Oh, no you don’t, Dr. Cunningham. I’ve had my fill of grimy faces and sticky hands today, thank you.” She swayed her lips against his, going in for the kill with a kiss that nearly made him groan. “The only sticky hands I want mauling me at this point, mister, are yours.”

  “Hey—Doctor Love!”

  Sam pulled away to glance down at Cat at the base of the bleachers, hands on her hips. “We’re up in the sack races, so get a move on.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Jazz whispered in his ear, the flick of her tongue kindling a slow burn in his gut. “I’ve been waiting for you to get a move on for a while now, Doc, so let’s get this show on the road and we’ll have some sack races of our own.”

  “Hey, great idea!” He gripped her at arm’s length, pulse sprinting overtime. “Why don’t you be my partner in the race, babe?” His smile veered wayward. “It’s the perfect opportunity to get me in the sack …”

  “Cute.” Her Angelia Jolie lips took a slant. “But I’m holding out for the real thing, Doctor Love.”

  “And it’s on its way, babe, I promise.” He kissed her nose. “Soon.”

  “Not soon enough to suit me,” she said with a pout.

  “Me, either, Jazz, trust me.” He gave her a quick kiss before making his way down the bleachers, wishing this were the water balloon toss so he could cool off.

  “Sure you can focus after that?” Cat watched his approach with a knowing smile, gunny sack slung over her shoulder while the participants lined up for the race.

  “Give me a break, Catfish,” he said with a lazy grin. “Winning is what I do best.”

  She shot a glance up to where Jazz was on the phone, and gave him a wink. “Not according to Jazz, I’ll bet.”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter and into the bag, O’Bryen, will you?” He snatched the sack from her shoulder and held it while she slipped her left leg in, then did the same with his right, gripping her around the waist. “I need you as focused as me because I hate to lose.”

  “Not as much as me,” she muttered, gaze darting down the line to where Chase and Shannon were teaming up for the race.

  Sam followed her line of sight, and his jaw compressed. “Wanna bet?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Shannon was laughing so hard, she could barely breathe, both she and Chase in a tangle of arms and legs at the finish line after they came in second place.

  Right behind Sam and Cat, of course. The Jugular Twins.

  “Going for the finish line in a dive, eh? Nice move, Rev,” Sam said with a grin. “Too bad it didn’t work.”

  Breathless, Shannon looked up at Sam and Cat, who stood over Chase and her with smug smiles.

  “No, but it sure was a whole lot more fun,” Chase said, helping Shannon to her feet. He shook Sam’s hand, then Cat’s, delivering the easy smile that was a key indicator winning at sack races wasn’t his top priority.

  Now souls? Shannon brushed off her shorts, hooking an arm to Cat’s waist to give her a congratulatory squeeze before shaking Sam’s hand. In the brief time she and Chase had been hanging out, she’d learned that the state of a person’s soul was his win of choice, given the countless discussions they’d had about both Cat and Sam.

  “I need meat,” Chase said as the aroma of BBQ wafted their way. He draped an arm over Shannon’s shoulder. “Hungry?”

  “Ravenous.” Tightening her ponytail, she flashed a smile at Sam. “Lacey and Jack said they’d save us a table, so you better go get Jasmine.”

  Sam glanced toward the bleachers, smile flat. “Wish I could stay, but I promised Jazz Sandfly BBQ.”

  “Oh, a BBQ snob—I see how it is.” Cat ruffled Sam’s hair.

  He slapped her hand away with a mock scowl. “Yeah, well, hot dogs and burgers don’t rank too high on her BBQ scale, Catfish, so I owe her after she sat through an afternoon of sweaty games and grubby kids.”

  “Not to mention Rupert,” Cat said with a chuckle.

  “Well, we’ll miss you.” Shannon gave Sam a hug.

  “Speak for yourself,” Chase said, draping an arm around both Cat’s and Shannon’s shoulders to usher them toward the picnic tables down by the lake. He tossed Sam a grin. “See you around, Doc.”

  Cat glanced back at the bleachers as she, Chase, and Shannon made their way to the table. “Is it just me, or do Sam and Jasmine seem like a mismatch?”

  “I don’t know. Being in love is a tricky business,” Chase said. “You don’t always get to pick who you’re going to fall for.”

  “Humph.” Cat snatched up a pebble and hurled it. “I plan to. I know exactly what I want in a man, and I refuse to settle for less.”

  “Less being …?” Chase eyed Cat with a faint smile, his arm still hooked over Shannon’s shoulder.

  “Boring. Unadv
enturous.” Cat sailed another rock. “You know, hamstrung by a mindset that doesn’t allow him to experience life or love to the fullest.”

  “You mean like me?” Chase said, the humor in his eyes undaunted by Cat’s opinion.

  “Well, now that you mention it, Rev, yes.”

  “Cat!” Shannon couldn’t thwart the shock in her tone.

  “I mean, come on, Shan—here he is, one of the most totally hot guys we’ve ever seen, and he’s so mired in morality, he can hardly have any fun.”

  “Stop it, Cat,” Shannon whispered loudly. Her gaze darted to the table where Lacey was waving them down while Jack played Power Rangers with their brother Davey and his best friend, Spence. “Mom would have a cow if she heard you talking like that, especially to the associate pastor of our church.”

  “So you think I’m totally hot, huh?” Chase said with a lazy smile.

  Cat shrugged. “Sure, but what good is it if you can’t have any fun?”

  “You’d be surprised how much fun I have, Catherine Marie,” he said in a husky tone, giving her neck a tweak before he sat down next to Shannon.

  Shannon battled the squirm of a smile when Cat’s face whooshed bright red.

  “Can we eat now, Lace—please? We’re starving to death, aren’t we, Spence?” Shannon’s brother Davey hopped up and down like he had to use the little boy’s room, a Power Ranger action figure fisted in both hands.

  “Uh-huh,” Davey’s best friend agreed in a quiet tone that made Shannon smile, along with the sweet owl glasses he wore.

  “And look—Debbie’s so hungry, she’s crying!” Davey pointed at the precious orphan that Lacey and Jack befriended last year before Ben Carmichael saved her life with heart surgery. She sat slumped over the table with tears in her eyes, chin silently quivering on top of folded arms.

  “Debbie?” Lacey leaned forward to peer into Debbie’s sorrowful face, then immediately gathered her up in her arms. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she whispered, rocking the little girl while Debbie sobbed against Lacey’s neck.

  “Deb?” Jack abandoned his Power Ranger to sit beside Lacey, stroking the little girl’s hair. “Why are you crying, Peanut? Come here …” He tugged Debbie from Lacey’s arms and set her on his lap, gently brushing the tears from her eyes.

  Small for nine years old, Debbie’s little body shuddered with sobs while Lacey wiped her nose with a tissue. Blonde ringlets that had grown back after cancer treatment were now coiled in disarray, bobbing with every heave of her chest. “B-Because I h-have t-to leave and I w-won’t ever s-see you a-again …” she whispered, barely discernable for the congestion in her voice.

  “Oh, baby.” Jack clutched her tightly, the sheen of moisture in his eyes identical to Lacey’s. “Miss Myra promised us you’d be placed with a foster family in Savannah, which means Lace and I will come see you as much as you like.”

  “You p-promise?” she said with a hiccup, swiping at the tears in her eyes.

  “You bet, sweetheart—pinky swear.” Lacey held her little finger out to the little girl.

  Heaves slowly dissipating, Debbie curved her tiny finger around Lacey’s and then with a quiver of her lip, she launched into Lacey’s arms, clutching her tightly. “I l-love you, L-Lacey,” she whispered before she turned to lunge back to Jack. “You, too, Jack, more than anybody in the whole, wide world.”

  Jack and Lacey’s watery gazes locked, and Shannon was pretty sure she was going to cry too.

  “Hey, I’m hungry—who wants BBQ?” Chase jumped up from the table.

  “Me-me-me!” Davey shouted, echoed by Spence’s more modest assent.

  “You hungry, Deb?” Chase asked. “Because yours is the first plate I’m gonna get if you are.”

  Debbie nodded against Jack’s chest, an impish grin lighting on her lips. “Can I have two hot dogs? And lots of dessert?”

  Chase gave her a wink. “Whatever your little heart desires, munchkin, as long as Miss Shannon helps me to carry it all.”

  Cat hopped up with a roll of her eyes. “I better go, too, or you’re liable to end up with more veggies than dessert with these two.”

  “For your information, Catfish,” Chase said with a shuttered drawl, “I have a near-decadent weakness for anything sweet.”

  Faking a yawn, Cat broke from the ranks to sashay in front of Shannon and Chase, smile dry as she delivered a smirk over her shoulder. “Seriously, Rev?” She zeroed in on Shannon with a pointed gaze before baiting Chase with an arch of her brow. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Skimming his jaw with one last swipe of the razor, Jack rinsed the shaving cream and dried his face, mouth slanting at the notion that he was shaving at ten o’clock at night, something he’d never done before. At least not until the honeymoon when Lacey woke up the first morning with awful razor burn. His mouth tipped in a gentle smile.

  God bless her. She’d been so mortified by the heavy rash that broke out on her face that she’d talked him into hiding out in their honeymoon bungalow all day and all night. His smile eased into a grin.

  Not that she had much persuading to do.

  He patted his clean-shaven face with her favorite cologne—Obsession—which fit perfectly because if ever a man was obsessed with a woman, it was him. Lacey Carmichael O’Bryen was the love of his life, and he would do anything for her. His lips inched up as he dragged a comb through his dark, unruly hair, still damp from his shower.

  Including shaving every night since.

  But he sure wasn’t complaining. Applying deodorant, he assessed the tan he’d managed to maintain from their Bahamas getaway, bicep bulging with the motion. Nope, because attached to his late-night shaving ritual was Lacey’s own personal obsession of getting pregnant, which meant Dr. Jack was on call every night of the week. He slathered toothpaste on his toothbrush with a decadent grin.

  With his very sexy and very determined wife.

  Swishing water in his mouth, he spit it out and wiped his face with the towel. “Ready or not, Mrs. O’Bryen, here I come,” he said under his breath, pretty sure Lacey was more than ready, a baby foremost on her mind. And frankly, he was too. Not that making love to his wife every night was a hardship by any means, but seeing her disappointed month after month certainly was, and he wanted his bubbly and lively Lacey back. He jerked his pajama bottoms up a fraction of an inch as he shot a smug smile into the mirror. And hopefully soon, God willing, he could share news with her that would do just that.

  Turning off the bathroom light, Jack entered the darkened master bedroom Lacey’s dad insisted they keep after Ben returned from his mission trip. Making his way to the bed, he was surprised his very thorough wife didn’t have her lavender-scented candle lit. He grinned as he eased under the sheet. The one she’d read promoted both relaxation and romantic mood.

  Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he nibbled her neck while he spooned her close. “No ambiance tonight?” He skimmed his palm down the length of her body, caught off-guard by the feel of pajama bottoms instead of skin. Ignoring a niggle of worry, he burrowed into the crook of her shoulder, gently feathering the lobe of her ear with his mouth. “No worries, babe, candlelight or pitch dark, you’re all I need to set the mood …”

  “Jack?” Her voice sounded off.

  “Yeah, Lace?”

  “Would you mind terribly if we just cuddled tonight?” She reached to brace his arm to her waist, wrapping her own arms around his. “I don’t feel so great.”

  “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, brows crinkling as he slowly turned her to face him, stomach plunging at the moisture he felt when he gently kissed her cheek. “Lace—why are you crying—are you in pain?”

  Eyes squeezed shut, she started to shake her head, but the moment her face crumpled with tears, he swallowed her up, holding her tightly as they lay side by side. “Aw, babe, we’ll have lots of babies, I promise, whether biological or adopted, you have my word.”

  “I …
know,” she whispered, “b-but that’s not the only reason I’m sad.”

  “What, then?” He pressed a kiss to her hair.

  “It’s D-Debbie.”

  Jack’s pulse stalled.

  “It’s just not fair, Jack.” Lacey sat up to wipe the tears from her face, and he reached for a tissue from the nightstand, nudging it into her hand. “That sweet little girl has had so much rejection and pain in her life and now she has to start all over again with heaven knows how many other foster families.” She blew her nose, words nasal from weeping. “All of whom will probably never really want her because of her risky health issues ...”

  Her voice trailed off into another sob, and Jack held her close, rubbing her back in a soothing up-and-down motion. “Babe, God has a plan for Debbie’s life, I promise, and it will be good.”

  “I believe that, Jack, I do, but how long will it take?” Lacey pushed away, her eyes wide and wet while frustration threaded her tone. “The poor kid’s been waiting her whole life just to get well and be loved, and now she’s gotta wait some more? Without any guarantee she’ll find a family who will love her or want her?”

  Her lower lip began to quiver, and Jack held her face in his hands, fusing his gaze to hers. “Lace, there is no greater guarantee than God’s love, and although His timing is not always in sync with ours, He will provide a loving family for her soon, I promise.”

  “But that’s just it, Jack, you can’t promise that,” she whispered, jaw trembling as she swiped at more tears on her face. “Nobody can.”

  He stared at the woman he loved more than life itself and knew he should wait. Knew he should just love her and comfort her and keep the promise he’d made. But the pain in her eyes stabbed straight into his soul, and suddenly nothing mattered more than making it go away.

  Even if it meant breaking a promise.