by Terri Reed
She peeked up at Sean. Good of him to be so nice about the whole thing, even if he didn’t realize what he was letting himself in for by promising to take care of her.
And though he’d been true to his word thus far, Lauren couldn’t allow her lonely heart to become attached to him. To anyone.
She couldn’t survive being rejected again.
On the drive back to Cannon Beach, Sean thought about Lauren’s claim that someone had been in radiology with her. First the attack on the beach, then this?
He could understand her paranoia, especially in light of the trauma that Dr. Sorensen had hinted at and that Sean had seen evidence of on her arm. His curiosity was piqued, but he shied away from asking. He was already more involved than he should be. The less he knew the better. Much less emotionally taxing that way. For them both.
But just as he’d been unable to ignore her cries for help on the beach, he found he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to help her now. From her insistence that she could go it alone, he had a feeling she didn’t want him caring for her any more than he wanted to. She’d sounded a lot like some of the teens he’d dealt with over the years. Wanting so badly to be independent and self-sufficient, they refused to acknowledge the need for others.
The need for God.
He wondered about Lauren’s relationship with God. He’d noted she’d called his timing on the beach a blessing. Was her use of the word an indication of her faith or was it just a fitting term that held no significance to her? And if she didn’t have faith, would she be open to hearing about God’s love for her and His promises for her life?
Sean’s stomach dropped. Didn’t matter. He wasn’t going down that path. Sean could keep an eye on her until her mother arrived, but he couldn’t help her. He couldn’t help anyone.
He forced himself to concentrate as Lauren directed him to her cottage. The headlights of the police cruiser reflected in his rearview mirror.
“Sean?”
“Hmm?
“I don’t really know you.”
He tilted his head. “No, you don’t.”
“Why should I trust you?” Lauren asked, radiating vulnerability in the set of her jaw, the guarded expression in her lovely eyes. “I mean, you could be an ax murderer or a…psychopath, for all I know.”
“I’m not an ax murderer.” He allowed a half smile. “Or a psychopath. I promise.”
“Then who are you?”
His gut tightened. Dr. Sorensen had asked the same question and had seemed satisfied that Sean was Mary Shannon’s nephew. Lauren didn’t know Aunt Mary, so that response wouldn’t work for her. She was asking him a question she had every right to ask, but he didn’t know how to answer without looking back at his mistakes. He settled on the present truth. The past was best left buried. “I’m renovating a historic bed-and-breakfast on Maple Street.”
“Shannon’s?”
He nodded, not surprised she knew the place. “My aunt Mary owns it.”
Mary had given him a purpose when she’d invited him to come to Cannon Beach, never once asking why he’d needed to leave Portland. She undoubtedly knew some of the facts, but not all. No one would know the whole truth, save God.
“Okay, that tells me what you do, but not if I should trust you.”
Sean considered her for a moment. The warm moonlight reflected in her amber-colored eyes was so honest and full of curiosity. Her dark hair had clumped together in places as it had dried, reminding him how close to danger she’d been. Returning his gaze to the road, he said, “Search your heart, Lauren. You’ll find the answer.”
In return, she regarded him thoughtfully for a heartbeat. “Do you believe in God?”
“Yes.” His answer came readily. He’d never lost his belief in his Savior. Only in himself.
Her full lips curved into a pleased smile. “Which church do you attend?”
His heart rebelled at the question. He wasn’t prepared to explain why he hadn’t stepped inside a church in six months.
He was saved from answering when he pulled in front of her cottage and parked on the sandy shoulder of the short street that led to the beach. Small clapboard houses with even smaller yards lined both sides. A typical beach access street.
The officers parked behind him, jumped out of their vehicle and hurried toward the house, their heavy-duty flashlights glowing bright. Several minutes later, they came back to the street.
Officer Kay leaned inside Sean’s driver’s side window. “We walked the perimeter. All the windows are secure and the doors locked tight. Do you want us to search inside?”
Sean turned to Lauren. Her eyes looked so big in the moonlight. “What do you think?”
“You’re sure the back windows haven’t been tampered with?”
“Not that we could see. There are no scratches, the screens are intact and the windows are closed.”
“I’d appreciate if you went inside,” she said.
“Key?” Officer Kay held out his hand.
Lauren dug into the bag that held her sweatpants and produced a single key on a silver square key chain. She handed it over to the officer.
A few moments later, lights glowed inside the cottage as the officers searched the rooms.
Officer Devon jogged back to the cab of Sean’s truck. “It’s safe to go in.”
Lauren leaned toward the window. “How can you be sure that guy from the beach won’t come after you’ve left?”
“We’ll sit tight out here for a while and then have a patrol car drive through the neighborhood,” the officer replied. “I don’t think you have to worry about your attacker coming back. Most likely he saw you walking alone and took advantage of the situation. A purely random event. We’ll find him.”
Sensing how upset Lauren was, Sean reached out a hand and covered hers. After a slight hesitation, she held on tight.
“Thank you, Officer,” she said.
“Come on, let’s get you inside.” Sean carried Lauren from the cab of his truck. Though small sconces by the front door illuminated the porch, all Sean could make out beneath his feet was a stone path and wooden slats. Her lightweight, slim body fit perfectly in the crook of his arms. Her head resting against his chest caused a hot spot over his heart.
He opened the front door and strode inside, shutting the door with the heel of his running shoe.
An overhead light shone from a fancy, antique-looking fixture, flooding the room with soft, yellow warmth. The cottage was small, but cozy. A cold fireplace with a wide wood mantel took up most of a long wall opposite the front door. A short Christmas tree stood unlit in the corner. An overstuffed couch butted up against the front windowpane and an oversize chair sat beside a bookcase lined with volumes.
Very comfortable and homey. A place to come home to at the end of the day. He might have wanted a house like this for himself once. But not anymore. He didn’t deserve comfort.
Two end tables were cluttered with sketch pads and an array of pencils. Apparently, drawing wasn’t a casual hobby for her. Maybe he’d check the beach in the morning and see if her sketch pad had survived the tide.
Hardwood floors gleamed around a large, rose-colored area rug. Two arched doorways, one off to the left and the other directly across from the front door, led to darkened rooms.
He took Lauren to the couch and set her down gently, then propped up her injured ankle with a frilly, colorful, flowered throw pillow. She smiled at him gratefully as she sank back with a sigh.
“Can I get you anything? Something to drink or eat?” Sean asked, needing to do something besides stare at her pretty face.
She shook her head and stared at him with wide eyes as if she didn’t quite know what to make of him. Did she still question trusting him?
On the table beside her lay an open sketchbook. Thankful for the distraction and a safe topic, he gestured to the book and asked, “May I?”
There was a moment’s hesitation before she nodded.
Picking up the pad, he flipped t
hrough drawings of the seashore and the quaint town of Cannon Beach. The definition and shading in each picture captured a distinct mood. Details stood out, showing the talent behind the work. The art was in the delicacy of her small, capable hands.
“I like your drawings.”
“Thank you.”
“Is drawing a hobby or your livelihood?”
Cannon Beach was known for being an artists’ colony. She could easily sell her work in any one of the many shops or galleries along the main street.
She looked away but not before he glimpsed pain and regret reflected across her pretty face. “A little of both.”
“They’re very good. Have you gone to art school?”
“I graduated from the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, California.”
Impressive. “How did you end up in Oregon?”
“I’d been to Cannon Beach as a child and had always remembered how much I adored the community. Then after…” She placed her hand on her shoulder. “I just needed a change.”
The scars. How had they happened?
As quick as lightning, compassion infused Sean. His heart twisted with the need to offer comfort.
No, his brain screamed, recoiling from traveling down that road again.
He couldn’t reach out and risk failing to help.
“Would you mind dragging over the clothes basket from the hall? The clothes are clean, I just haven’t put them away yet. I should change.”
Grateful for the change in subject, he set down the sketch pad. “Sure.” He brought her the basket, from which she chose a powder-blue sweat suit. “I’ll just step out.”
Escaping into the kitchen, he found the light switch. The space was small, but had a simple charm. White countertops were scrubbed clean, and the dining area hosted a small, round oak table with four matching chairs. In the center of the table sat a bouquet of flowers. White-and-blue gingham curtains hung at the window above the sink. Morning or evening, the sun would make the place cheery.
Lauren had built herself a nice life. A life he didn’t belong in. “What am I doing?” he muttered.
He leaned his forehead against the cool door of the refrigerator. Lord, I can’t do this. I can’t help her. I can’t help anyone. I’ve already proven that.
Grace.
His breath caught. The word reverberated in his head.
He gave a soft, wry laugh. “Yes, Lord, You’re big enough to forgive me, but I can’t forgive myself.” Guilt rode him hard, making him turn away from everyone, even God.
But he couldn’t abandon Lauren. She shouldn’t have to suffer because he couldn’t deal with playing caretaker for a couple of days. He’d help her out. He’d promised.
Just a day or so. Fix her a few meals, see that she was comfortable and safe, until her mother arrived. Not that hard to do. Then he could go back to what he’d come to Cannon Beach for—solitude.
“You can come back in,” Lauren called out.
Taking a bracing breath, Sean reentered the living room.
“I should call my mom. Would you mind bringing me the phone?” Lauren asked. “It’s on the entryway table.”
A light blinked on the phone’s square base. “You have a message.”
Lauren’s eyes widened. Was that panic darkening her gaze?
“Do you want me to play it?”
She nodded.
Sean pushed the button with the play symbol. A woman’s voice filled the room. “Hi, dear, it’s Mom. Just wanted to remind you I’m leaving on the cruise for the week, but I’ll be back in time to come to Cannon Beach for Christmas.”
The air left Sean’s lungs in a swoosh as he stared at the beautiful stranger he’d rescued and realized there was no getting out of his promise anytime soon.
THREE
“You didn’t know your mother was leaving?”
The unmistakable surprise in Sean’s voice made Lauren shrug, as she tried not to let on how uncomfortable she was. Having a visitor wasn’t something she did often, or ever, really. Other than her mom. “I’d forgotten about the cruise. She told me about it a while ago. I’m not my mother’s keeper. She comes and goes as she pleases.” At least ever since Lauren had struck out on her own and Mom hadn’t been encumbered with taking care of her. “She’ll call when she’s on her way here.”
He considered her, his thoughts veiled. “Then you’ll have to come with me back to Aunt Mary’s.”
Lauren scoffed. “No.”
He mimicked her scoff. “Yes.”
“I’ve been enough of a burden to you, I’m not going to trouble your aunt as well,” she stated firmly.
“When I called Mary from the hospital to tell her what had happened, she issued the invitation. I didn’t bring it up because you said your mom would be coming. But since that’s not the case, I know Mary would insist on you staying with us. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”
Lauren’s dander rose. She narrowed her eyes. “You can’t just come in and start planning my life.”
He held up a hand. “No one’s trying to plan or run or control you. This—”
“I disagr—”
“Just hear me out,” he interjected, as she had. “It makes more sense for you to stay in the bed-and-breakfast while you’re waiting for your mother. I’ll be there working and Mary will love the company. She’ll never admit as much, but ever since Uncle Bill passed on, she’s been lonely. I think you two will hit it off. So, actually, you’ll be doing me a favor by distracting my aunt.”
Lauren shifted her aching foot on the pillow. Sean sure knew how to turn things around. Lauren wasn’t sure she was buying his lonely aunt story. The only lonely people in friendly little Cannon Beach were those who chose to be. Like her.
Worry chomped through her. Staying with him put her at risk. Not physically, but emotionally. If she stayed with him and his aunt, if she began to care about them and became attached, she’d only be opening herself up for more hurt because eventually she’d leave and go back to her world. She doubted they’d stay in touch. So guarding her heart would have to be paramount.
She had to admit—never to him, though—that she wasn’t too keen on staying alone while slightly incapacitated, both physically and now mentally, if the hospital episode tonight was any indication. Whoever that man on the beach had been, he could know where she lived. Even with the police patrolling the area, she didn’t feel completely safe.
And the kicker was that if she did agree to stay at the B and B, then there’d really be no need for her mother to even know she’d been injured. Once she heard, she’d insist that either she move here or Lauren return home to L.A. Two equally unacceptable options. And that was all the reason Lauren needed to agree to Sean’s offer.
“All right.” She nodded. “For your aunt.”
He squared his shoulders. “Okay, then. That’s settled.”
“I’ll need to pack a few things.”
“Point me in the direction of your suitcase and we’ll have you packed in no time.”
Waving toward the hall, she gave him instructions. “In my workroom, on the shelf in the closet, there are two small bags.”
It was so unlike her to willingly let someone else take control or to let someone so emotionally close. She felt both agitated and relieved. How could that be?
Watching Sean walk from the room, she was struck by his gracefulness. No lumbering or swagger. Just long, purposeful strides. She tried to analyze how she felt about having a man in her house.
On the one hand, it was nice to have someone around. Plus, he seemed generous and caring. She hadn’t allowed anyone through the door, literally or metaphorically, in a long time.
Of course, this situation was unique.
But that didn’t make letting Sean into her life any easier. She’d ensconced herself in this small town for a reason. The tourists came and went, the locals minded their own business after their initial overtures were rebuffed and she could exist without pity or sympathy because no one was
allowed to look beyond the surface.
No one would ever see beneath her scars.
Lauren leaned back on the couch. She had to admit she liked Sean. There was something soothing about him. Something that made her want to rely on him, to relinquish her troubles and worries into his strong, capable hands. And that was why she couldn’t allow herself to become dependent on him. Not even for a few days. Because he was just a passing ship in her stormy life. Sooner or later, he’d leave, so the sooner he was gone, the better.
Relaxing, she closed her eyes and let her body sink into the cushions. The pain medication they’d given her at the hospital was finally taking effect. The throbbing in her ankle receded and her head no longer pounded. In the quiet moment, she finally relaxed enough to express her gratitude to God.
Dear Lord, thank You for sending Sean out to the beach this evening. I know You have some purpose for our lives to intersect. Whatever it is, I’m grateful. If only… She bit her lip.
There was no use wishing or praying her life was different, that she would be a whole woman again. A woman who could attract a good-looking, thoughtful man like Sean and be free to see if a relationship developed. Longing hit her with the accuracy of a champion archer.
The medicine must be stirring up such crazy thoughts. She’d resigned herself to never having an intimate relationship because of her scars. She need only to look in the mirror to be reminded that no man would want to touch her hideousness. Greg certainly hadn’t, even though, only the month prior to her attack, he’d declared his undying devotion when he’d proposed. His love had been dependent on her outward beauty.
How could she expect anything different from any other man? But she could allow herself a friend, couldn’t she? A friend with no strings attached, no expectations. Sean had already seen part of her scar and hadn’t recoiled in horror. She’d just have to make sure he never saw the rest. That wouldn’t be hard to do, considering her choice of attire.
