Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3

by Laurie Larsen

  As the miles ticked away, her mind kept returning to her big surprise for Hank. What was different about that one? As she’d planned the meeting between him and Jeremy, it felt like a “God thing.” The reunion between father and son, Hank’s forgiveness which would not only relieve his own guilt, but Jeremy’s too. It had seemed so right.

  But it wasn’t. It wasn’t God’s plan; it was all hers. She’d gotten so accustomed to helping others God put in her life, she figured she could do it without Him now. But it wasn’t the same when it was her in the driver’s seat, not Him.

  Her plans had backfired so extravagantly and changed the immediate course of her life so drastically. She’d been open to the possibility of some sort of future with Hank. Was that just a pipedream? Now, it was gone in one ill-advised mistake.

  Where was God now? Had He turned His back on her? Did He not think she could help Hank get over this family problem? Or had she just gotten so smug in her success in following God’s will that He was tearing her down a peg or two?

  Did God even operate that way? She didn’t think so, but she wasn’t even sure about that anymore.

  The whole trip home, she ruminated and fretted. She tried to pray but found it hard. Her words, whether spoken aloud or inside her head, seemed wooden and contrived. The contrast between her closeness to her Creator on the trip down, and her return trip was not only vast, but disturbing.

  At six on the second day, Leslie pulled into the driveway of her house which in most likelihood, wouldn’t be her house for long. She grabbed her suitcase and rolled it through the front door. She stood motionless, looking around. She hadn’t been gone that long, and yet it was a lifetime. So much had happened; her whole life had changed since the last time she was here.

  She reminisced about the friends God had introduced her to on her roadtrip: she wondered how Norman was getting along with his seizure disorder.

  Now that she was home, she really should give Rita a call. They lived relatively close, and she knew they could be friends. She wondered how Nathan was doing with his addiction, and whether or not Rita’s husband had returned home from deployment.

  She smiled as she reflected on the knitting group at the church in Charlotte, and the preemie babies who received the fruits of their labor, especially little Carson and his mom.

  Yes, her whole life had changed on this trip, and definitely for the better. That, at least, she could thank God for. She took her suitcase upstairs and did a hasty unpack. Best to keep busy or else her mind would wander to the three things she didn’t want to think about:

  Selling her house and finding somewhere else to live,

  Hank and her colossal backfire,

  Her growing crisis of faith.

  She sighed. That was a big list.

  Settling into her couch and pulling her feet up underneath her, the man crept into her thoughts first. It was impossible not to think of Hank. She tried to tuck him away in the same category as the people God saw fit to use her for, as their angel on earth, their helping hand. But she couldn’t do it. Her feelings toward Hank were worlds different than her feelings toward the others.

  She recognized the feelings she had for Hank, because she’d felt them before. Not in a long time, but somewhere in the back recesses of her memory, she remembered. Was she in love with Hank? Probably not, but could she have fallen for him if she spent more time with him?

  Absolutely.

  But it wasn’t meant to be. Their fledgling friendship was too new to bear the weight of what she’d done, and how he’d responded. Not to mention the distance between them.

  She’d pray and she’d grieve and she’d move on. What choice did she have?

  * * *

  The next morning, she opened her house to Tim and a man she guessed to be in his mid-forties, both dressed in lightweight tailored suits. She subconsciously wiped a hand across the wrinkles in her shorts and tugged at the hem of her sleeveless cotton top. Outclassed in her own home.

  “Come in. We can sit in the kitchen.”

  When they arrived at the table, Tim introduced them. “Leslie, this is Randall. Randall, Leslie, my ex-wife.”

  She fought back a cringe with all her might. Of course he’d introduce her that way. It was factual. So, why did it hurt so much?

  “Nice to meet you,” Randall said. He pulled a short stack of papers out of a satchel and put them on the table. “Tim’s already heard the details of this over the phone, but since you both need to agree on the deal …”

  “Yes.”

  Tim turned at the nastiness in her tone. He studied her with confusion.

  She mimicked a smile. “Sure, we both have to be happy with the deal since we’ll be splitting the profits on the house.”

  He nodded, keeping his gaze on her longer than he probably needed to.

  Randall pointed to various parts of the document with a ballpoint pen. “As you can see, it’s a very reasonable offer. It’s under list price, but not by much, what, 7%? That’s not too bad in today’s market.”

  Math was never her forte. She glanced over at Tim and he had a happy smile on his face. Why wouldn’t he? He would eliminate the house they’d raised their family in, and that would be one less thing to interact with her on. Life was going just the way he wanted.

  Randall flipped a page. “Here’s where the buyer is requesting some roof repairs, a radon prevention system to be installed in the basement and credit for a new furnace which will probably be needed within two years.”

  “What?” Rage bubbled in her esophagus. “These are ridiculous terms. How much is all that going to cost us?”

  Tim tensed. Randall pulled out a small calculator and tapped the keys. “Between five and seven thousand dollars.” He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

  Leslie held back the impulse to let out a huff of frustration. Or a scream.

  Tim reached over and patted the tabletop in front of her hand, although not her hand itself. “They’re asking for a lot, but remember it’s a buyer’s market right now. Randall told me some bids come back 20% under list, in addition to these other requests. So, it could be worse.”

  Leslie stared at the offer, the words on the page starting to blur. “It’s an insult. This is our first offer, the house has been up less than a month. What’s the rush?”

  Tim’s face took on an expression of controlled irritation.

  “I think we should wait and see what else comes in.”

  Randall looked panicked, and scooted his chair closer to Tim’s. “That would probably be a mistake, Leslie. We pass up this offer, and the next one could be worse. Buyers look at how long a house has been on the market, and make a call on how desperate the sellers are. How much dealing they’re willing to do.”

  “I’m not desperate.”

  Tim piped up, “That’s because you’re not that motivated to sell. Admit it.”

  His response was immediate which made her think it was on the tip of his tongue, and he’d been waiting to say it for some time. She opened her mouth, then closed it, saying nothing.

  Was there some truth in his words? Was she passing up this decent — not great, but not horrible — offer because she didn’t want to sell the house? Would she be happy with any offer or would she find a reason to decline each one?

  Oh Lord, guide me, she prayed silently. Make my intentions pure.

  She stood and took a few steps away from the table. As she struggled to control herself, she said in a shaky, small voice, “Where will I go? What will I do next?”

  She heard the scraping of a chair on the floor and Tim’s hand rested on her shoulder. When she turned, she saw Randall had left the room.

  For a moment, his voice took on the same comforting tone she’d known on many occasions in the twenty years she’d spent with him. Hearing it now, directed at her, tore a hole in her heart. “I know this is hard for you. It kills me that I’ve caused you pain. But we both have to move forward. You know that, right? And part of moving on with our lives is sel
ling this house and finding the places that will be our futures.”

  “Out with the old, in with the new?” she said with a sniff.

  “Well, yeah, I guess so. I really think it’d be easier for you to adjust if you weren’t here where we spent our marriage together.”

  She was so torn. What he was saying was true. It would be easier to move on if she didn’t live here. More painful, like pulling a bandage off a scab. But eventually, easier. But him saying so made her angry. Like she was the weak one, the charity case, and he was in charge. She didn’t want to be the weak one. But today, it was exactly how she felt.

  “You don’t think this offer is taking advantage of us?” she said.

  “No, not at all. Plus, we have so much equity in the house we’ll be able to pay those expenses, and still keep quite a large amount of cash, each of us. You’ll have a nice down payment on a new place.”

  She rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to have to find a new place, large down payment or not. But she had to get used to her new way of life, whether she liked it or not.

  They went back to the table and Leslie picked up the pen. Tim called for Randall. The realtor trotted into the room.

  “Oh! This is a good sign.”

  Leslie was paging through the offer. Each time there were two lines with X’s by them, she signed the bottom one. She handed the pen to Tim and he signed the top lines.

  “All right, thank you very much,” Randall said. He stood, then looked at Leslie. “If you’d like my help finding your next place, just let me know. I’m already working with Tim to find his next place.”

  She glanced at Tim, then back to Randall. “I don’t think so, but so nice of you to offer.” She hoped the sarcasm didn’t drip too awfully much.

  She herded them both out, closed the door and flung herself against it before she realized she’d never even offered them a cold drink.

  Chapter Eleven

  Once the papers were signed, things moved quickly. Randall negotiated a closing date with the buyers and calculated the funds to be disbursed to Tim and to Leslie. He contacted the vendors needed to perform the specially requested jobs and scheduled the work. Such a speedy and expeditious realtor. All Leslie had to do was shop for a new place. She now knew her budget and although it wasn’t limitless, there should be a variety of homes to choose from in Pittsburgh in her price range.

  The problem was, whenever she thought about the conundrum she was in, she panicked. The “Sold” sign was displayed in front of her house, and she had only a few weeks before she would be out. She really needed to get busy and find her new home.

  But she couldn’t do it.

  Sure, she’d looked in the paper, the Sunday Homes section. She’d circled ads and had even on a few occasions driven around on Open House day to addresses that interested her. But there was no curb appeal. If she couldn’t bring herself to get out of the car, wouldn’t she hate the inside?

  Instead of facing the home problem, she called Jasmine. The six hour time difference meant mid-morning in Pittsburgh was late afternoon in Paris. She caught her during a rare afternoon in her apartment.

  “I’m so tired, Mom. I love Paris, but it goes too fast. A mile a minute. I feel like a slug when I just want to stay home in my shorts and tee shirt and eat popcorn.”

  Leslie laughed. “That doesn’t sound too bad, sweetie. You work hard. You’ve earned a lazy day or two. Don’t feel bad.”

  Her voice softened. “I’m looking forward to coming home. I miss you so much.”

  “I miss you too. Big time. But I know this has been the summer of a lifetime for you. And, actually for me too.”

  “So what’s new on the housing front?”

  “Nothing. Not a thing.”

  “Maybe you need a new realtor.”

  “Or a realtor at all.”

  Jasmine gasped. “You haven’t hired a realtor? Why not?”

  Leslie sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I can’t seem to get moving.”

  “If you don’t get moving, you’ll be homeless soon.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “What are you looking for, a single home? Condo? Townhouse?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  They chatted for a while and the doorbell rang. Leslie stood, then thought about it and sat again. Whoever was visiting unannounced could wait or come back later. How often did she catch her world traveler with a free moment to talk?

  They talked a little more and the doorbell rang again.

  “Mom? Hold on, I have a Call Waiting beep.” She came back on after a moment of silence. “Boss Man calling. So much for an afternoon off.”

  “Oh, dear. Well, don’t work too hard. I worry you’re not taking care of yourself.”

  They said their good-byes and ended the call. Leslie headed to the front door and opened it. No one was there, but a work truck was parked on the curb and a man was walking toward it, his back to her. One of the workers the realtor scheduled? But she wasn’t told anyone was coming by today.

  “Hello? Excuse me!” When he turned around, her heart leapt. Her pulse quickened and she felt dizzy. “Hank?” His face, so familiar, didn’t belong in this environment, but strangely he fit right in. She didn’t realize how much she missed seeing him till he stood before her.

  A smile bloomed on his face and then faded. He jogged toward her and gave her a tentative grin. “Leslie.”

  “What? What are you doing here?”

  He slipped his hands into his back jean pockets with a sheepish shrug. “I have to talk to you.”

  “Me?” She shook her head to clear it of the cobwebs that had gathered there. Hank was here. On her doorstep. He’d driven 650 miles to see her. “How did you know where I lived?” It was the first question that came into her befuddled mind.

  He chuckled and dipped his head, studying his feet. “Well, that’s the thing. I hope you won’t be mad at Marianne about this, but …”

  “Marianne?” What did his daughter have to do with this?

  “I pretty much twisted her arm. She never would’ve done it normally.”

  “What?”

  “I got your address from Marianne’s record. You know, when you registered at the Inn you provided your home address.”

  He studied her face earnestly for a reaction. She could imagine Marianne had struggled with the ethics of handing out confidential customer information. However, Marianne had made it clear she thought Leslie and Hank belonged together. So she probably figured providing aid to Cupid was worth a privacy violation.

  She gazed at Hank. He looked so good. So Hank, hard-working and capable. She wasn’t mad he’d tracked her down, not in the least. In fact, she was elated. She smiled her joy and held her arms out. Within a moment, he had covered the ground separating them and pulled her into his embrace.

  Warmth from his hug consumed her. She breathed in deep and knew she was right where she should be. In his arms, it all made sense. All the craziness her life had become since leaving Pawleys Island, now slowed down to the steady, pulsing beat of their two hearts embraced.

  He released her and she reached up and caressed his cheek. “It’s so good to see you.”

  A relieved smile covered his face. “Great to see you, too.”

  “Come in, come in. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  He followed her into the house. “I wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee.”

  She led him to the kitchen. “How about an omelet? I could use one myself.”

  He nodded his agreement. “I have to say when I saw the Sold sign up in your yard, and you didn’t answer the door after two rings, I was kicking myself for my spontaneous roadtrip. I thought I’d struck out, I really did.”

  “So why didn’t you call instead? If you could find out my address 650 miles away, wouldn’t it have been easier to find out my phone number?”

  “I don’t know. I got a wild hare and I wasn’t sure how it would sound over the phone. I figured in person I stood a better chance o
f convincing you.”

  She frowned as she whipped the egg and milk concoction, poured it into the heated pan and went back to her refrigerator and pulled out tomatoes, cheese and mushrooms to chop. “What are you talking about?”

  He leaned a hip against the island counter. “I need your help, Leslie.”

  “Help? With what?”

  “I want to go visit Jeremy.”

  She stopped chopping with her knife mid-air. “You do?”

  “Yep.”

  She shook her head. “You drove the wrong direction, you realize that, don’t you?”

  His face was serious despite her sarcasm. “I need you to go with me. I can’t face him alone.”

  It made no sense. Why her? And why now, when this same idea had been a colossal fail just weeks ago?

  “No, not me. I’m out. God made it clear to me, this was not His will, it was mine. I wasn’t listening before but I am now.” She shuddered, thinking about the bump in the road she’d had in her faith journey since the “Jeremy mishap.” Last thing she wanted to do was misstep again. “How about Marianne?”

  He’d been staring at her, now he pulled his gaze away. “Sure, she’d go with me. But, I don’t know why, I have this strong feeling I want you there.”

  “A strong feeling?” It could sound like a crazy vagueness to someone else, but she knew exactly what that strong feeling was. She’d been following strong feelings all summer and look what new adventures had opened to her. Opening your heart and following the will of God required a person to recognize strong feelings for what they were.

  But was this strong feeling from God, or merely from Hank? There was a difference.

  “So you came here to pick me up?”

  “Yeah. I drove all day yesterday to get here, but it was too late to stop by. I got a hotel room and was hoping I could convince you to get in the car with me. It’d be a long drive, but we could probably get to Columbia late tonight, and be there for visitors’ hours tomorrow.”

  She finished her chopping and tossed the ingredients into the eggs on the stove. Then he stepped in front of her and captured her hands in his.

  “I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome here. I didn’t know how much making up I’d have to do.”