by Lisa Carter
Honey brushed by, throwing a heated glare in their direction. Evy bit her lip as Sawyer’s shadow fell over them. Charlie’s gut tightened.
“Miss Shaw.”
Evy smiled at the Coastie cowboy, dropkicking Charlie’s pride.
Sawyer’s eyes glinted. “Pruitt.”
“Kole,” Charlie grunted. And was glad when the former puddle pirate moved on.
When Honey’s sisters ambled past, Charlie felt Evy shrink. He frowned. Why was she so scared of the Duers? What power did they hold to cause Evy such fear?
He felt their speculative glances as they towed their hungry children toward the door. Evy wilted with relief as the door closed behind them.
Charlie laid his arm across the back of the pew, close but not touching her. “Speaking of hungry...”
“Were we? Speaking of hunger?”
“I’m always thinking, if not speaking, about food.” He cocked his head. “Do you know me at all?”
“Not as well as I’d like.” And then her eyes bugged out behind her glass rims.
He laughed. “How about—”
Evy’s lips twitched.
He edged closer. “You find it funny how I—how we—talk around here?” The swaying tips of her ponytail brushed his arm.
“I find the Tidewater brogue sweet and charming.”
He rolled his eyes. “News flash. Sweet and charming is not the effect most guys go for.”
She smiled at him over the top of her glasses. “How aboot what?”
“Now you’re just mocking me.” He feigned sliding out of the pew. “If you’re going to make fun of me, you’ve talked yourself out—”
She pursed her lips and mouthed oot.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Keep it up, sweetheart, and you’ll miss the best fried chicken and french fries on the Shore. You Californians eat fried chicken, don’t you?”
“Sweet tea, too. Y’all made a believer out of me.” She nudged him. “You caught that fitting-in-with-the-locals thing I just did, right?”
He grinned. This was the Evy he’d come to know. And love?
That wiped the smile off his face. “You’re as funny as a heart attack, Evy Shaw.”
“Is that what the chicken is going to do to my arteries?”
He wagged his finger in her face. “Just for that, I’m not going to order you a milk shake.”
Gripping the pew in front of them, she rose and scooted past him. “That’ll teach me.”
“So, is it a date or what?” He scrambled into the aisle. “Can we take your car? I walked to church from the house.”
On the steps of the church, her black-and-white floral dress swirled in the sea breeze. “Is it a date, Deputy Pruitt?” The hem teased at her knees.
“Not if you’re going to keep calling me Deputy.”
She lifted her chin. “Evy and Charlie, then.”
“Charlie and Evy would be more alphabetical.” Out of habit, he rested his hands on his hips above where his gun belt usually lay. “Since I know you care so much about that sort of thing.”
She bit back a laugh. “There is that.”
Tendrils framed her face. The sea wind wasn’t much for hairdos.
Resisting the urge to run his fingers through the silk of her hair, he offered his arm. “Chicken it is.”
She slipped her hand through the crook in his elbow. “Who’re you calling chicken?”
* * *
Later they strolled to the waterfront to gaze over the choppy waves of the harbor to the barrier islands on the horizon. The air held a hint of salt as the wind blew in from the ocean. Late afternoon brought with it a golden hue.
Autumn on the Eastern Shore might become Evy’s favorite time of year. And of all the places she’d ever lived, Kiptohanock was her favorite place in the world.
“Favorite movie?” Charlie tapped his finger on his chin. “Let me guess. Pride and Prejudice.”
“Which one?”
She laughed when his eyebrows rose.
“There’s more than one version?”
“Yes, but—true confession time—” she felt the blush “—I’m a big Star Trek fan.”
“I like Westerns where the hero triumphs against all odds.” He rolled his tongue in his cheek. “As you know from my ringtone, I’m a Bonanza kind of guy. Big Valley and Gunsmoke, too.”
“Oh, I loved those as a kid.” She rested her forearms on the top of the seawall overlooking the marina. “I can see that about you.”
“And you? Why did you become a librarian?”
Jaunty flags fluttered in the breeze. Boats bobbed in the water. Lazy seagulls cawed above their heads in the blue September sky.
“I like books. I like helping people. Not in a heroic or life-changing way like you. But helping them discover new things about themselves and the world around them. After the torn ligament and surgery, it became obvious I’d never become the prima ballerina I’d wanted to be.”
He leaned against the seawall. “A ballerina?”
When he smiled at her like that, it was hard to hold on to her suspicions.
“I didn’t know that about you.” He propped his elbow on the wall. “I can see it, though. Your hair on top of your head. The tutu. The toe shoes.”
“You know about toe shoes?”
“One sister, remember?”
There’d been framed photographs scattered on table surfaces at his house.
“Where is your family? How have I not seen them around town?”
“Dad and Mom bought an RV when he retired. They’re at Yellowstone right now. They’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”
“What about your siblings?”
“Jaxon is career military like my granddad. He doesn’t get home much. One brother’s a firefighter in Norfolk, and another calls a navy ship home at the moment.” Charlie looked at the ground and shuffled his feet. “Anna’s husband was also military.”
“Was?”
Charlie gave a deep sigh. “Returned from his tour sick. Cancer.”
“Is he okay?”
“After a long battle on the home front—waged chiefly by my sweet sister—he died about a year ago.” Charlie pushed off from the wall. “Anna became a much-too-young military widow. One of the reasons my dad retired early. So they could be with her in those last days.”
“And you hold down the fort till everyone comes home.”
“I guess so. Never thought about it that way before.”
She wound a strand of hair around her finger. “Such a big family. Sounds wonderful. It was always only my parents and me.”
“And your housekeeper.”
She exhaled. “My parents meant well. But academia was their life. Grant-funded research. The publish or perish pressure. It was easy for them to get lost in translation, literally.”
“For them to get lost or for you?”
She straightened. “They were wonderful in their own way. Wildly eccentric and freethinking, with a circle of eclectic friends. They loved me in the abstract.”
Evy touched the frame of her glasses. “They gave me everything money could buy. I think I was a checkmark off a bucket list. They were older than most when they...” She pinched her lips together.
“You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything, Evy. I wouldn’t judge you. We each have our own life wounds. The scars we carry.”
She edged away from him. “I should go home now.”
His face fell. “If I said something—”
“You didn’t. I need to do some stuff.”
She wasn’t sure how the conversation had taken this detour. Her reasons for being in Kiptohanock lay between them like a boulder.
He looked like he didn’t believe her. “
What about story time tonight? How about I come get you about seven?” Due to the holiday weekend, they had an extra evening with the children, who didn’t return to their foster homes until Monday.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll drive myself there and see you then.”
“You’re no trouble. It’s on my way.” He frowned. “Is something wrong, Evy?”
“Nothing’s wrong. See you later.”
Confusion flickered across his strong features. “Evy...wait—”
Dodging his hand, with a quick wave she practically ran to where she’d left her car. She spent the rest of the afternoon hunkered in her room at Miss Pauline’s, wrestling with the desire to tell Charlie everything.
She liked Charlie. More than a little. And friendships—not to mention relationships—should be based on honesty.
Evy wasn’t the sort of person who liked keeping secrets. But other lives and her ability to destroy those lives with one wrong word lay in her hand. It was a responsibility she didn’t take lightly. Despite how others might misinterpret her actions, she hadn’t come to the Shore to make trouble. Charlie’s tangled history with Honey Kole complicated matters and underscored Evy’s reservations.
The library board had offered Evy a long-term contract to consider staying permanently as library director. Of all the libraries in which she’d worked, she loved the Kiptohanock library the best. The historic former Victorian home housing the library collection provided plenty of scope for the imagination, as Anne of Green Gables might’ve said.
She loved the muted, old-fashioned lighting of the chandeliers. She reveled in the colorful book bindings, side by side like toy soldiers, on the gleaming wooden shelves. She inhaled the waxy aroma of lemon polish. She’d hate leaving this seaside sanctuary.
But more and more, Evy was thinking it wouldn’t be such a good idea to stay here. She was in over her head, and she knew it.
As for tonight? She had a story to read. And little girls to cuddle. In what was fast becoming one of her favorite life experiences.
She arrived at the Keller farm alone. Dusk deepened the watery horizon to peach-colored hues laced with lilac and indigo overtones.
Felicia met Evy at her car. “We’re going to do a switcheroo tonight.”
“A what?”
“I’ll help Charlie lead the discussion with the little dudes. And Sawyer is going to share his story with the dudettes after you read the book he picked out.” Felicia laughed. “Dudes. Switcheroos. Cowboy life has a way of growing on you.”
On the stool between the bunk beds in the girls’ cabin, Evy held the book aloft and read aloud from A Terrible Thing Happened. With Sawyer there, the girls hadn’t changed into their pj’s yet. But the girls had belly-flopped onto their bunks as they listened to the story about a boy named Sherman. And what he saw that terrible day.
As she read, something—not exactly a memory—pushed at the edges of Evy’s consciousness. She turned the page.
Sherman got nervous. His stomach hurt.
Evy practiced taking a steady breath and turned the page.
Sherman had bad dreams. He was angry and did mean things.
Evy’s heart raced.
Then Sherman met Mrs. Maple. He talked about the terrible thing he tried to forget.
Her palms sweated on the book cover. She wiped one hand on the thigh of her jeans. Her hand shook.
Sherman felt much better.
Evy did not. “The End.” She closed the book and laid it across her lap.
“When I was a boy, I saw something bad. Something terrible.”
Evy’s gaze flicked to Sawyer. He sat cross-legged on the rug between the bunk beds. She gripped the book.
She wanted to know. She had waited her entire life to know. But now? Now she was afraid to know the truth.
He laid his palm against the pine board floor. “My mother died on the floor of our kitchen.”
Latasha nodded. “Cocaine?”
Rayna, a little girl with a sprinkle of freckles and bright orange hair, jutted her chin. “Meth, maybe.”
“Or heroin.” That from five-year-old Tonya.
It hurt Evy’s heart to realize what unofficial experts these children were. And what hurt even more was the image Sawyer painted with his words.
Sawyer sighed. “My father wasn’t a good guy. He yelled a lot. He broke things. I was glad when he went to jail for armed robbery.”
Rayna placed her cheek against the blanket.
No child should have to live with those kinds of memories. If Evy hadn’t understood she was the fortunate one before, she knew it for a fact now. She got off the stool and moved to sit beside Rayna.
Sawyer took a deep breath. “I never told that story—my story—until I met a real-life good guy. A man by the name of Seth Duer, my future father-in-law. Talking about it made me feel better.”
He paused. “Miss Felicia and Miss Shaw are both good listeners. If you ever want to talk to someone.”
Tonya’s fingers plucked at a loose thread on the hem of her shirt. “My foster mom says there’s another father. She says he’s good. A father who loves you no matter what.”
Sawyer nodded. “I had a lousy father, but Seth helped me find a better one. A father who’s always there when I need Him the most. And He gave me a new family. Starting with Seth Duer, then my friend Braeden and finally my precious wife, Honey.”
Tonya smiled. “She makes the best pimento cheese sandwiches.”
Sawyer laughed. “Yes. She does.”
“You’re talking about God.” Rayna sat up and put her arm around Evy’s shoulders. “I’ve heard of Him. At the church my grandma took me to before she died. Before my sisters and I went to live in different places.”
Evy’s arm slipped around Rayna’s waist. She hugged the little girl close. Latasha plodded across the rug in her stocking feet for a hug of her own.
When Felicia called for lights-out, Evy and Sawyer stepped out onto the cabin stoop.
And something wouldn’t allow Evy to walk away to her car. Her time with her brother was destined to be so brief. As had been their childhood together. She might not get another chance to talk one-on-one with him.
“You were scared of your father.”
Sawyer’s eyes sharpened. “Yes... I was.”
She clenched her fists at her sides. “You believed it was your fault.”
He didn’t blink. “Yes, I did.”
“It wasn’t.” Her heart pounded. “I’m sorry.”
His gaze raked over her face, scrutinizing Evy. “Thank you.”
A broken image—like shards of glass—flashed across Evy’s memory. “He hit you.” A statement. Not a question.
Sawyer’s eyes bored onto hers. And there, she beheld the truth. “How did you—” He shook his head, as if attempting to dislodge an unsettling idea. “Let me walk you to your car.”
Evy stepped off the porch and warred against the temptation to tell Sawyer who she really was. Perhaps he’d be pleased to know her. But what if he’d rather leave his sister and the bad memories in the past? Before she could act on the impulse, Sawyer surprised her.
“How is it that we’ve known each other such a short time and yet somehow I feel we’ve known each other far longer?”
Evy’s breath quickened. Did he suspect? Had she given herself away? What should she say?
At her silence, he bit his lip. “You’ve been a great friend to these children. And to me.”
Evy swallowed past the emotion clogging her throat. “You’ve all become a family to me. Like you were talking about earlier with the Duers.”
He slowed, matching his longer strides to hers. “All thanks to a good God.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“Do you believe
in God, Miss Shaw?” Sawyer stopped beside her Mini Cooper. “Do you think He’s real?”
She looked at Sawyer.
“Yes, I do,” she whispered. “And He is very good indeed.”
Chapter Seven
The next Thursday afternoon, Charlie ran across Honey coming out of the grocery store. Too late to avoid her, he reached for the bag of groceries in her arms and walked Honey to her car.
“I’m not happy about that Shaw woman spending so much time at the camp on weekends, Charlie.”
He set his jaw.
“What were you thinking to bring her out there? And now she’s insinuated herself into coming every Saturday.”
Honey wasn’t being fair.
“Felicia Kerr asked her to take charge of story time.” He waited while Honey dug through her purse for her keys. “It was you who pointed out how Evy didn’t fit in. Story time is her wheelhouse. She cares about those kids.”
Honey clicked her key fob. The car beeped as the door locks clicked upright.
“Evy’s not what you’re imagining.” He balanced the bag on his arm. “There has to be a reasonable explanation. She’s a great person.”
“Your task, Charlie, was to figure out what her interest is in my family. And to stop her from causing trouble.”
Charlie placed the grocery bag inside the trunk. “Evy Shaw has never said or done anything remotely threatening to your family.”
Honey slammed the trunk lid shut. She crossed her arms over her expanded belly. “There’s something off about her interest in our lives.” Her brown eyes filled with tears. “Didn’t you see it for yourself on Saturday? Didn’t you feel it? Something tying her and Sawyer to each other.”
Yes, Charlie had. Only something someone who knew them both would detect. A heightened awareness. A visceral bond.
Honey swiped the moisture from her eyes. “Or do you think I’m just being hormonal?”
Charlie rested his hip against the car. “Have you asked Sawyer about her?”
Honey’s mouth quivered. “That was his first time meeting her. But something is going on. I just know it.”
