by Irene Hannon
The phone vibrated again, and Fletch cast a distracted glance at caller ID.
Deke’s wife?
He frowned.
These days, he was always the one who called her.
Was there an emergency of some sort?
Pulse skittering, he punched the talk button. “Lisa? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. We’re fine, Fletch. Sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. Has it been that long since I called?”
His heart settled down, and he exhaled as the refrigerated air from the dairy case cooled his back. “A while—but I know you’re busy. How’s the day care business?”
“It’s working out great. I get to keep David with me all day and make a reasonable living at the same time. I couldn’t ask for a more ideal situation.”
Yeah, she could.
If all had gone as she and Deke planned, she’d be a stay-at-home mom who didn’t have to worry about making ends meet or do all the heavy lifting to provide for her son’s future.
Lisa spoke as if she’d read his mind. “Hey...David and I are doing okay. Don’t worry about us so much.” A woman reached past him and grabbed a container of eggs, lifting the lid to inspect the contents. One was broken. “How’s your grandmother?”
“Her wrist is healing well.”
The woman put the eggs back and repeated the drill until she found a perfect dozen.
“I’m glad to hear that. Listen...I was wondering if you might have some time for a short visit. I’d really like to see you.”
He wandered away from the dairy section, stopping beside a small display of fresh fruit. “Sure. I was planning to drive up to Savannah before I went home. How are your parents?”
“Better since I gave in to their not-so-subtle nudges to move closer. I have to admit it’s nice for David to have grandparents nearby.”
Especially since he didn’t have a father.
“Yeah.” Fletch clenched his teeth.
“The thing about getting together—I was wondering if you had some time today.”
“Today?” As best he could recall, Savannah was close to a hundred miles north. No way could he fit both that trip and a date with Rachel into his afternoon schedule. But Lisa wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. “I could get up there later this evening. Would that work?”
“I can save you the gas—and the trouble. I’m about an hour away from the island, heading your direction. I was going to surprise you and drop in unannounced, but then I figured I better make sure you were available.”
Fletch picked up a lemon from the display beside him and weighed it in his hand, trying to make sense of her impromptu trip. “You’re driving down just to talk to me?”
“I’ll explain when I get there. I know it’s short notice, and I don’t mean to inconvenience you, but I’d really appreciate it if you could spare an hour.”
“Of course I can.” His date with Rachel would have to wait. He’d promised himself he’d be there whenever Lisa needed him, and he wasn’t going to renege on that commitment. “There’s a restaurant on the main circle road called Fins. You can’t miss it. Cut straight across the island after you come off the bridge, and hang a left on Beachview Drive. I’ll meet you there at twelve-fifteen.”
“You don’t have to feed me.”
“I need to eat, too.”
“In that case...thanks. I’ll see you soon.”
Slowly Fletch slid the phone back on his belt. Lisa hadn’t sounded upset, but something was up. There’d been an unsettling undercurrent of emotion in her voice. Nervousness, perhaps? Uncertainty? Anxiety?
Was she bringing him bad news?
“Hey, mister...you gonna make some lemonade?”
Pulling himself back to the present, Fletch looked down at the little blond-haired boy standing in front of him. The youngster was about the same age as David.
“What?”
The boy pointed to the lemon in his hand.
Fletch set it back on the display and took a step away. The last thing he needed in his life was another lemon.
“No. I was just holding it.”
“My mom makes good lemonade. You have to add a lot of sugar, though, or your mouth puckers up like this.” The boy contorted his face.
A young woman hurried over, a toddler in tow, and took the little boy’s hand. “Come on, honey. Don’t bother the man.” She sent him an apologetic look. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
“You should make some lemonade.” The boy called the advice over his shoulder as his mother tugged him away. “Lemons are a lot easier to eat if you sweeten them up.”
Out of the mouths of babes...
If only it was that easy.
Scratching shopping off his agenda, Fletch exited the store—hoping Lisa wasn’t about to add one more lemon to his collection.
* * *
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy this immensely, Mrs. Gardner.” Rachel stole a peek at her watch. Just an hour and a half to go before her beach date with Fletch...but the way this woman had been languishing over her purchase, she’d be hemming and hawing for another thirty minutes. At least Aunt El could relieve her of duty—and dithering customers—once she arrived.
The sooner the better.
Cocking her head, the woman examined the impressionist seascape for the dozenth time. “But are you certain it will blend with the colors in my living room? Let me show you the photos again.”
Rachel controlled the impulse to roll her eyes. Should she give the woman a quick art-appreciation lesson? Tell her paintings weren’t like a lamp or a throw cushion, that one bought art for its inherent beauty, not as a décor item? That you were supposed to draw attention to it, make it the centerpiece of a room, not hope it blended in?
She eyed the woman’s outfit—pink flats edged with teal trim. Pink, white and teal tropical-print skirt. White top with teal buttons and teal trim around the collar. Even her necklace carried out the color scheme.
Give it up, Rachel. Just listen and nod and hope she buys the painting.
Half an hour later, as the woman finally pried her fingers off her credit card, the bell jingled over the front door and Aunt El bustled in.
Hallelujah!
Rachel rang up the purchase, assured the woman the painting would be packed and shipped the next day and sent her on her way. Before the door clicked shut behind her, she was reaching for her purse.
“Tough customer...or places to go?” Eleanor tucked her own purse under the front counter.
“Let me put it this way. If the pros and cons of Paul Revere’s ride had been debated for as long as Mrs. Gardner waffled about that one painting, the opening shots of the Revolutionary War wouldn’t have been fired in Concord.”
Eleanor chuckled. “I get more than my share of that type. All I can say is, you deserve a relaxing afternoon, whatever you decide to do. A trip to the beach might help.”
Don’t look at her, Rachel. Your face will give you away.
“I’ll have to think about that.” She kept her head bent as she dug for her keys and started for the door. “See you tonight.”
Once outside, she headed for her car, pulling out her phone. If she’d been smart, she’d have left the ringer on audible while she was tending the shop. An incoming call would have given her an excuse to break away from Mrs. Gardner for a moment.
Not that she’d had much chance of being saved by the bell, however. Few people from Richmond called during her visits to Jekyll Island, and she didn’t have any friends here except for Fletch.
Her afternoon date.
A trill of anticipation pranced through her as she turned on her phone, skimmed the screen and began to slide it back into her purse.
Wait.
Had the screen indi
cated a missed call?
She retracted her hand and looked again. Yes. From an unfamiliar number.
After pressing the auto-lock for her car, Rachel tapped in her voice-mail access code and picked up her pace. By the time she changed clothes and touched up her hair and makeup, the next hour was going to whiz by—and she didn’t intend to keep Fletch waiting.
“You have one new message. Wednesday, June 27, 11:30 a.m.”
As she pulled open her car door, a familiar voice began speaking. “Rachel, it’s Fletch. I’m sorry to have to do this, but I need to bail on our beach date. Something...personal...has come up. I’ll give you a call later this afternoon and explain.”
She froze, hand on the door.
Fletch was canceling their date?
For personal reasons?
Like what?
It couldn’t have anything to do with Louise. If the older woman had had some sort of setback, he’d have told her. There would be no reason to keep that a secret, not when she and Aunt El were so close.
Was it possible he’d simply gotten cold feet, decided he didn’t want things between them to get any cozier? Maybe he was having second thoughts—or regrets—about all he’d shared with her.
Despite the cloudless blue sky and brilliant sun, the day suddenly seemed a little less bright.
The staccato beep of a horn prodded her forward, toward her Focus. But once she reached it, Rachel paused again. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders.
She would not allow a broken date with a man she’d met a mere three weeks ago ruin a beautiful June day on Jekyll Island.
Jaw set, she slid into her car, started the engine and backed out of her parking spot. Why not treat herself to lunch at her favorite restaurant? Better to dine alone than sulk around the house all afternoon thinking about the date that might have been. If he wanted to give her an explanation and reschedule, fine. If not...she’d survive. Why complicate her life by getting involved with a man who lived in a different city, anyway?
Because he’s nice...and he’s hot...and you’re attracted to him?
Rachel pulled onto the main road and cranked up the air, aiming all the ducts at her flushed cheeks.
Fine. She could admit all that. What woman wouldn’t be attracted to a guy with dark good looks and a flattering willingness to trust her with his secrets?
But he was also pushing her out of her comfort zone.
Maybe this canceled date was a reminder that she needed to think about how involved she wanted to get with Louise’s grandson before she went down a path she might regret. Maybe she should be grateful for this opportunity to consider next steps—assuming he wanted to take any.
Shoving that thought aside, Rachel swung into the crowded lot at Fins. For once, fate was kind to her. A car pulled out of a spot near the entrance, and she claimed it with a quick twist of the wheel.
After setting her locks, she walked up the curving sidewalk toward the seaside entrance of the restaurant, scanning the terrace as she approached. Might her spurt of good fortune include finding an empty table under one of the umbrellas?
Nope. The place was packed.
Just as she started to turn toward the door that led to inside seating, a couple at a table in the far corner of the terrace caught her eye. The thirtysomething brunette facing her wasn’t familiar, and the man was partly hidden by a waiter talking to the people at an adjacent table, but those broad shoulders and that deep brown hair...
The waiter shifted, and Rachel’s heart faltered.
Was that...?
The man angled slightly to speak to the waiter, giving her a partial view of his profile.
It was Fletch.
The bottom dropped out of her stomach.
He’d canceled their date to meet another woman for lunch at their place.
Backing away, Rachel tucked herself behind one of the potted palms that rimmed the path, claiming a spot beside the ever-lurking seagulls as she tried to process this new development.
Don’t jump to conclusions or assume the worst, Rachel. There might be a reasonable explanation. Keep an open mind. Listen to what he has to say when he calls later. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Be mature. You’re a grown...
A seagull flapped at her feet, and she looked down.
The bird had apparently mistaken her for a statue and deposited a gift on the toe of her leather flat.
As she shooed him away and dug through her purse for some tissues, Rachel grimaced at the pile of poop.
What a fitting end to her morning.
She just hoped it wasn’t an omen for the rest of her day.
Chapter Nine
Fletch handed his menu back to the waiter and inspected Lisa as she took a sip of water. What was it about her that had changed in the eight months since their last in-person conversation? Yes, her hair was a bit shorter, she’d gained back a few of the pounds she’d lost after Deke died, and she was wearing more makeup than usual—but none of those alterations accounted for the subtle difference in her.
The change was deeper than cosmetic.
“I feel like a frog under a microscope.” She flashed him a tentative smile. “You’ve had me pinned with that piercing, analytical SEAL look ever since I arrived. It’s very intimidating.”
He forced up the corners of his mouth. “I’m not trying to intimidate you. But I am curious.”
“I figured you would be.” Lisa straightened her cutlery. Flicked a crumb off the table top. Smoothed a finger along the crease in her napkin.
Her stall tactics weren’t helping his blood pressure.
After another few seconds of silence, he took charge. Might as well get this over with. “So what’s up?”
Her lips quirked. “I see you’re still a typical let’s-cut-to-the-chase-and-dispense-with-the-small-talk SEAL.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Lisa took a deep breath, folded her hands and swallowed. “I wish there was some easy way to lead up to this, but if there is, I haven’t figured it out—and I’ve been trying for three days. So I’ll just put it on the table, and then we can discuss it.”
Fletch braced himself. Whatever was coming was going to upend his world.
Again.
“I’m getting married.”
As the three simple words hovered in the air, all other sounds receded. The clatter of silverware, the laughter of their fellow diners, the muted crash of the surf in the distance, the ring of a cell phone...they registered only at some peripheral level of awareness as he grappled with her bombshell.
The woman who’d loved Deke with a fierce, singular passion, who’d borne his beloved son, who’d mourned his loss with an almost palpable grief, was going to give her heart—and her loyalties—to another man.
It wasn’t computing.
“You’re shocked, aren’t you?”
Fletch heard her question.
But he had no clue how to respond.
“Of course you are.” Lisa leaned closer, her expression intent—and troubled. “You want the truth? I’m shocked, too. I wasn’t looking for a new man in my life. I love Deke—and I always will. His place in my heart belongs to him and him alone forever. It hasn’t been easy these past two and a half years, but David and I were making it on our own and life was beginning to settle into a new normal. Then I met Mitch...and everything changed.”
The waiter appeared, and she paused while he set their plates in front of them.
That brief break gave Fletch a chance to absorb her news.
Yet he still couldn’t come up with a response.
As the waiter departed, Lisa reached over and touched his hand. “I don’t know how to explain this, Fletch, except that when I met Mitch, the darkness began to lift. It was like I’d been living in
a cave, and suddenly I began to see glimmers of light in the distance.” She searched his face. “Have you ever had anyone walk into your life, and somehow you knew things were going to be different? Better?”
An image of Rachel flashed through his mind.
Yeah, he had.
But he’d never pledged his love to someone else. Shouldn’t it be different once you did that? Shouldn’t that kind of bond linger even past death?
“I know what you’re thinking.” Lisa withdrew her hand and stared down at her shrimp Caesar salad. “You’re thinking I’m betraying Deke by falling in love with someone else. I thought that at first, too.” She lifted her chin and locked gazes with him. “But I don’t anymore. After I met Mitch, I began to realize that since Deke died, I’ve been going through the motions of life. I’ve been marking the days, nothing more. And that wasn’t fair to David...or to me. I’ve also come to believe it’s not fair to the memory of Deke, either. Do you?”
Talk about being put on the spot.
Fletch took a sip of water. Cleared his throat. Picked up his fork. Put it down again.
Lisa waited him out.
He groped for words that would placate without condoning. “You have to do what you think is right, Lisa.” Lame...but the best he could come up with.
“You think I’m wrong.”
“I’m not judging you.”
“Yes, you are. I knew you would. That’s why I wanted to tell you the news in person. Because after a lot of prayer and soul searching, I’ve concluded that neither of us should feel guilty about moving on. If Deke could weigh in on this issue, do you think he’d want me to live the rest of my life alone? Do you think he’d want his son to grow up without a father? Do you think he’d want you to spend your life mourning him—and feeling guilty over a decision that could have gone either way?”
A muscle in his jaw ticced, and he fisted a hand in his lap, keeping his features neutral. No one knew about the shepherds except the men on the mission...and Rachel. He’d never shared the particulars with Lisa.
