Second Chance Summer

by Irene Hannon

  When Gram drew back, she lifted her chin and touched his cheek. “I wish I could put a smile back on that face. Would it help if I modeled my bird-of-paradise muumuu for you? You got a hearty laugh the first time you saw it.”

  His lips twitched at the thought of the gaudy garment. “I’m not sure my eyes could take a second hit.”

  She gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder. “I’ll have you know I ordered that direct from Hawaii.”

  “I believe it. Now you just need to learn how to do the hula.”

  That earned him a finger poke in the chest. “Don’t you make fun of me, young man. Now that this—” she waved her cast-free wrist “—is healed, I might take you up on that challenge.”

  Gram doing the hula.

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest.

  “There now, that’s better.” She gave him a pleased look. “You’re so much more handsome with a smile instead of that fierce scowl you’ve been wearing for the past week.”

  The corners of his mouth flattened, and he turned away on the pretext of retrieving his cell.

  Gram followed him, tucking her arm in his as he slid the phone into his belt. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Rachel. I don’t know what happened, and I’m not asking you to tell me, but it’s such a shame. I had high hopes for the two of you.”

  “You’ve been reading too many of those romance novels you like. Real life doesn’t always have happy endings.”

  “Sometimes it does.”

  “Not this time.”

  “I suppose not.” She sighed. “We have two hours before the ribbon cutting. Could I commandeer you once more for chauffeur duty? I’d like to run by Francis House and put the carrot cake for the Mitchells in the fridge. If I take it to the festivities at noon, it won’t be a surprise. I’d drive myself, but this wrist is a lot weaker than I expected, and I’d rather not be trying to turn the wheel on the car until I have a few more physical-therapy sessions under my belt.”

  “Sure. You want to do it now?” At least running an errand would give him something to do besides sit around lamenting about what might have been with Rachel.

  “Now is perfect. And let’s take my car. It’s been sitting in the garage so long I want to make certain it still runs.”

  “Not a bad idea.”

  Less than ten minutes later, Fletch swung Gram’s sporty red Camaro into the driveway of the house where he’d spent some of his happiest hours on the island—thanks to Rachel.

  Suppressing the familiar surge of regret, he set the brake and gestured to the dessert Gram was cradling in her lap. “The Mitchells are in for a treat. No one bakes a better carrot cake than you.”

  Gram waved off the praise but looked pleased nonetheless. “You’re prejudiced.”

  “The judges in that bake-off you entered a few years ago in Nashville weren’t.”

  Spots of color appeared in her cheeks. “I’m sure there were many other fine entries. They just must have been in the mood for carrot cake that day.” Before he could disagree, she gestured to the house. “No sense both of us trekking inside. Would you mind putting this in the fridge? Eleanor gave me a key the other day when we were running back and forth adding all the finishing touches.”

  “Sure.” Fletch started to turn off the car, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Leave it on, please. The day’s warming up, and the cool air feels nice.”

  “Not a bad idea. Sit tight and I’ll come around for the cake.”

  Sixty seconds later, cake in hand, Fletch took the pewter keychain she held out.

  “Nice touch, don’t you think?” Gram gestured to the image of Francis of Assisi molded into the metal.

  “Yeah. You and the crew thought of everything.” He stepped back and grasped the edge of the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Gram leaned forward and flipped on the radio. “Don’t rush. My favorite talk show is on.”

  As she folded her hands in her lap and settled back in her seat, Fletch closed the door and walked toward the front door. The sweet scent of jasmine invaded his nostrils as he passed underneath the arbor, and he picked up his pace, sparing a quick glance at the swing he and Rachel had shared the night his dreams had crumbled.

  If only things could have been different.

  If only he could be less noble.

  If only her feelings for him had been strong enough to compensate for the sacrifice that loving him would require.

  But it was a waste of time to wish for what couldn’t be.

  Clamping his lips together, he juggled the cake in one hand and fitted the key in the lock with the other.

  As the door swung open, he looked back at Gram. Her head was turned his direction, and she lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers. Then she used both hands to pull up the corners of her mouth.

  He tried to coax his own lips to respond, but they wouldn’t budge.

  Once in the tiny foyer, he closed the door to keep the hot air outside and headed toward the refrigerator, letting his gaze roam over the living room, dining area and kitchen. Rachel’s and his handiwork was evident in the pristine moldings and the long, inviting swaths of cream-colored paint on the walls.

  No question about it, the remodeling project had worked wonders, transforming the dingy dwelling into a welcoming, light-filled haven. If his own visit to Jekyll Island was ending on a gloomy note, at least he’d participated in an endeavor that would bring joy to countless families for years to come.

  In the kitchen, he opened the fridge—only to discover that other members of Gram’s congregation must have had the same idea. The shelves were stocked with cold cuts, fresh fruit, a foil-covered casserole with baking instructions taped to the top, milk, eggs, orange juice...and a bunch of other stuff.

  Throttling a groan, Fletch tossed the key on the counter and set about rearranging the contents. All he needed was enough space to wedge in the cake. Considering how tightly he’d once packed his SEAL gear, this ought to be a cinch.

  Three minutes later, after shuffling the contents twice, he finally managed to squeeze in the cake with a quarter inch to spare.

  Key once more in hand, he retraced his steps toward the front door, detouring to take one last look at the whimsical dolphin mural Rachel had painted.

  He stood for a moment on the threshold as he took in all the clever details designed to delight the children who would occupy this room: the baby dolphin she’d added in the background since his last visit; the sailor-hat-wearing pelican, swooping low to take a gander at the game of beach ball; the candy-cane-striped lighthouse in the background with a giant Hersey Kiss instead of a lantern room at the top.

  The youngsters who inhabited this room were going to love it.

  All the playful, kid-pleasing touches were yet another reminder that Rachel was meant to be a mother—and that she should marry a man who could give her the chance to have that total experience.

  Fletch sucked in a sharp breath.

  It was time to leave.

  Turning, he strode down the short hall, opened the front door, took one step out—and froze.

  Two things had changed since he’d entered.

  Gram’s car was gone from the driveway.

  And Rachel was sitting on the top step, under the arching jasmine vine.

  “Hi.” She gave him a tentative smile.

  Fletch scanned the empty driveway again and frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “I thought I’d stop by the house before the crowd arrived.”

  He narrowed his eyes, adding things up. “Was this a setup?”

  Rachel twirled a sprig of jasmine in her fingers. “If you’re asking me whether I knew exactly how this scene was going to play out, the answer is no. But Louise did agree to get you here at ten o’clock.”

&
nbsp; As she paraphrased the reply he’d given to that same question on the Fourth of July, he tried to rein in the little surge of hope that ticked up his pulse.

  “That sounds familiar.”

  She lifted the jasmine to her nose, her gaze locked on his. “It should. You gave me a similar response when you were looking to share some fireworks.”

  Fletch moved a step closer. “So what’s your excuse?”

  “I had fireworks in mind, too.”

  He swallowed. “The holiday’s over.”

  “I’d like to think our celebration is just beginning.”

  The hope he was trying to restrain began to percolate. “I thought we were going to give each other some space.”

  “No. You were going to give me some space. I don’t need it anymore.” Rachel patted the step beside her. “Want to join me?”

  Was she kidding?

  In silence, he crossed the porch, settled down beside her—and waited.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking...and praying...during the past week.” She set the jasmine beside her and clasped her hands around her knees, giving him her full attention. “And if you still want to see where things between us might lead, I’m ready...and willing...to sign on for that mission.”

  His pulse thundering in his ears, Fletch tried to corral the thoughts pinging through his brain. Could this be for real, when less than ten minutes ago he’d been berating himself about wishing for things he couldn’t have?

  But Rachel looked real enough, sitting inches away in a curve-hugging green knit top and khaki shorts, the gentle breeze toying with the soft wisps of hair that had escaped her braid.

  In the lengthening silence, a shadow of uncertainty darkened her irises to a dusky jade, and the edges of her mouth quivered. “That is, unless you’ve changed your mind?”

  “No.” His answer came out fast and sure. “But why did you change yours?”

  “I had an illuminating experience. Would you like to hear about it?”

  “Yeah. I would.”

  He listened as she told him of her encounter with the minister’s adopted children and her subsequent conversation with Reverend Carlson.

  As the story wound down, she reached over and placed her hand on his knee. Even through the fabric of his jeans he could feel the warmth of her fingers. “Here’s the thing, Fletch. After Mark died, I never expected to love again. Only in the past couple of months have I begun to allow for the possibility that somewhere far down the road it might happen—and I assumed children would go along with that. You definitely weren’t on my agenda for this summer. But God’s timing isn’t always ours...nor do his plans always mesh with ours.”

  Fletch scrutinized her, wanting to believe she was at peace with the fact that a union with him wouldn’t produce any biological offspring. That adoption was truly an option she could embrace. That her feelings for him—and the electricity that buzzed in the air whenever they were together—weren’t clouding her thinking and leading her to make a choice she’d later regret.

  She spoke as if she’d read his mind. “In case you’re concerned, despite the fact there’s enough voltage zipping between us to light up the state of Georgia, my judgment hasn’t been compromised by overactive hormones.”

  “That’s good to know. And I like everything you said.” Fletch spoke slowly, struggling to rein in the burgeoning euphoria that was short-circuiting the left side of his brain. “But you made this decision pretty fast.”

  Rachel tipped her head, her expression pensive. “The odd thing is, it doesn’t feel fast at all. To be honest, the past week has seemed like an eternity. And every day that went by without seeing you moved me further along the path toward this decision. But after yesterday’s experience at church, it was like a light was flipped on. All at once, I could see things clearly—and I knew with absolute certainty that choosing you wasn’t a compromise. It was a blessing.”

  As Fletch looked down into the eyes that had haunted his dreams for the past week, pressure built in his throat. There was no deceit or uncertainty in their depth, only conviction and peace and hope.

  Most of all, hope.

  The same hope that was bubbling up and spilling over in his heart.

  Fletch wove his fingers through hers. “No one’s ever called me a blessing before. In fact, Gram had a few other choice words for me after Fourth of July.”

  “Believe me, I got my share of those, too, from Aunt El. Well deserved, I might add. But if this is heading where I think it is, I expect we’ll soon be redeemed.”

  “All must be forgiven already if they helped plan this little rendezvous.”

  “Oh, they were both eager to cooperate.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “So are we good?” Rachel searched his face, a hint of anxiety creeping into her voice.

  “We’re good. As a matter of fact, I think we’re going to be very good.” He gave her a slow, intimate smile that brought a flush to her cheeks. “However...I still want to take things slow. We haven’t known each other that long. You could have second thoughts.”

  “Not a chance.”

  At the conviction in her tone, his smile broadened. “I like a woman who knows her mind. But we’re going to play this safe. I don’t want any regrets down the road.”

  Rachel made a face. “I thought Navy SEALs were men of action who charged into the thick of things.”

  “Only after careful planning and reconnaissance. At the moment, we’re in the reconnaissance phase.”

  “Hmm.” She picked up the sprig of jasmine and studied it. “That’s going to be a bit of a challenge. The logistics will be a hassle once we’re both back on our home turf.”

  “We only live a hundred miles apart, according to MapQuest. Besides, SEALs are experts at logistics.”

  Rachel scooted closer, until her leg was brushing his, and proceeded to play with a button on his shirt. “What other expertise do you claim?”

  At her flirty inflection, Fletch grabbed her hand, tugged her to her feet and urged her up onto the porch.

  “Hey! Where are we going?”

  “Away from prying eyes. Any complaints?”

  She didn’t say a word.

  Once hidden behind the dense jasmine vine, he swung around and pulled her into his arms. “Now...to answer your question about SEAL expertise, we’re also rumored to have a way with the ladies.”

  Grinning, Rachel lifted her arms and linked them around his neck. “Want to demonstrate that?”

  As his eyes began to smolder, he gave her a slow, toe-curling smile. “My very next mission.”

  And in the perfumed air of the jasmine vine, on the porch of the haven they’d helped create, under the sunny skies of their special Golden Isle, he did.

  Epilogue

  Four months later

  Could a Thanksgiving be more perfect?

  Rachel lifted her face to the sun and drew in a lungful of the tangy salt air. It might not be close to the record high temperature for November 22 on Jekyll Island, but she’d take seventy-two degrees and blue skies any day.

  Still, the great weather paled in comparison to the amazing man at her side, his hand firmly linked with hers as they crossed the dune bridge to the beach.

  She looked at him—only to find him gazing at her.

  “I’m thinking the same thing.” The warmth in his eyes added a few degrees to the balmy temperature. “It’s a perfect holiday.”

  She squeezed his hand as they started down the steps to the sand. “It’s nice to be back, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Commuting between Gram’s house and Eleanor’s is a whole lot easier than the drive from Norfolk to Richmond.”

  “I warned you the distance would be a problem.”

  “Frustrating is a better word.
Every time I make the drive, I keep wishing I could be sharing those hours with you instead of listening to talk radio.”

  “Hopefully, the distance won’t be an issue forever.”

  Despite the broad hint, Fletch didn’t respond as they stepped onto the sand.

  Rachel stifled her disappointment. At this point, she was more than ready to take things to the next level. Truth be told, she’d been ready for weeks. Yet hard as she’d tried to convey that in every possible way, Fletch’s resolve hadn’t wavered. He wanted to give her a chance to second-guess her decision.

  Except she never had. If anything, she was more certain than ever that loving the man at her side was right and good and part of God’s plan for her.

  There’d been one positive outcome from their months apart, however. She’d had plenty of time to do lots of research on adoption. That, too, felt right and good and part of God’s plan. There were so many children in need of loving homes. Together she and Fletch could offer a few of them a chance they might not otherwise have. They’d still be creating a child together...but in a different way, just as Reverend Carlson and his wife had.

  Maybe one of these days she’d convince him she wasn’t only ready but eager to take the next step in their relationship and make a serious commitment.

  But today she was going to push those thoughts aside and enjoy the holiday with him on their beloved island.

  Rachel leaned down to pet the golden retriever who was trotting along beside them on the deserted beach. “Do you think Aunt El and Louise bought our excuse about wanting to give Bandit a chance to stretch his legs?”

  “Are you kidding? It was an obvious ruse to give us some time alone together. They’re probably back at your aunt’s, chattering away about us while they fuss over the turkey.”

  “I thought the Frisbee added some legitimacy.” Rachel waved the blue disk in her hand.

  “Not much—but it was a nice touch.” Fletch took it from her, examining the faint teeth marks on the edge. “Is this the infamous Frisbee Bandit mistook for my swim fin?”

  “The very same.”

  He gave it a toss, toward the spot where he’d been standing the day they’d met. Bandit took off after it, legs churning the sand.