Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3

by Laurie Larsen

  She knelt beside Jeremy and they grasped hands. “Do you want to ask God for a miracle?” His beautiful, earnest face made her heart race, but what he was asking her to do made it race even faster. She was out of her depth, she didn't know what to do. “No, you, please.”

  He nodded, bowed his head and prayed. “Father, we know You're watching over us and You want the best for us. You want us to live happy lives in the fullness of Your grace. But down here where we are, that's hard sometimes. Life gets in the way. The evils of the world tempt us. We can't do it on our own. That's why we pray to You, to ask for the help we so desperately need. Father, we have a request. Emma and I come to You with a concern in our hearts. Please help Emma's father and her mother. Please provide Your healing spirit to them both. Help Mr. Slotky give up drinking and live the life You have planned for him. Also, help him to forgive me for my past mistakes, and to accept me instead of hating me. Lord, use Emma and I as your soldiers in this war against evil. In Your name, we ask this. Amen.”

  His words were finished but they both stayed in position, gripping each other's hands, heads bowed. Eventually, they both looked up and into each other's eyes.

  “Are you in?” she asked softly. “All the way in?”

  He huffed out some air. “I'm in.”

  She squeezed his hands. “I mean it now, Jeremy. I need you. I have no idea what I'm doing.”

  “I don't either.”

  She shook her head. “I don't mean just about my dad's alcoholism. I mean, relying on God to get us all through this.”

  “He's standing at the door, knocking. We just need to invite Him in.”

  She smiled. They stood and made their way back to the couch. The TV started sounding the countdown to midnight. A wild party of people crowded onto the streets of Times Square in New York City were counting backward … “four, three, two, one,” and before she could notice what the people on TV were doing, Jeremy pulled her to him, ran his hands under her chin and to the back of her head. The tinned noise from the box disappeared while she focused on his lips on hers, the warmth between them and the racing he caused in her heart. When he pulled away, she was breathless and a little dizzy. This man caused her pulse to race, and tingling to occur in her body. What was that plan she had for keeping the relationship respectful and wholesome, and not led by lust? The more moments she spent with Jeremy, that plan was starting to dissipate. She was drawn to him, attracted to him. He was different than anyone she’d ever dated, and her longing for him was fierce. He had the most horrible of pasts, but he was determined to make it right. She admired him to no end.

  And the man was hot. What would be wrong with a little old-fashioned physical interaction between two consenting adults?

  “Oh! Hold on.” She raced over to her table and brought two party hats, leis and noisemakers. Slipping them on him, she made loud, annoying honking noises, and he did too.

  She handed him the champagne bottle and he opened it with his thumbs, sending the big cork flying through the apartment. They shared plastic glasses full of the stuff.

  What a start to a whole new year of promise.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jeremy was delivering a finished project to a customer about an hour inland. It was a sturdy, handcrafted oak bar for a rec room, but tailored down in size to fit the measurements of the room. It fit adequately in the bed of his pickup truck, and he'd tucked padding around it to avoid bumps or scratches.

  He didn't mind delivering his furniture when it was done. He liked to see the customer's first, unfettered reaction to the piece when he pulled off the wrapping. He was getting pretty good at recognizing the true emotion at the reveal. And he was happy to report, the vast majority of reactions were positive.

  He supposed that if his business continued to grow, he might have to hire someone to do his deliveries. A company with a big covered truck, so multiple pieces could be delivered simultaneously, protected from the weather. If he stuck to designing and building, and he had others to reach out to customers, make sales, take orders, do the financial transactions and deliver the finished products, he could produce a lot more and he could focus on the thing he liked the most, the creation.

  Of course, he'd need money to invest if he wanted to grow and he didn't have it, and he refused to borrow it. Not that a bank would lend to him anyway. So, best not to dream about a future that had little chance of happening. He'd better just be grateful for what he had here and now. Because it was sure a lot better than he had before.

  Thank you, Lord.

  He continued to drive but the thought wouldn't let him go. Some of those tasks didn't require particularly exclusive skills. If he could find someone who needed a job, who could learn how to sell, how to take orders and process the payments, that would free him up a great deal. Who did he know who was looking for a job?

  The realization made him snort. Emma's dad, Mr. Slotky. Although he wasn't actually looking for a job, and he'd probably rather cut his foot off than work for Jeremy again.

  One of the most difficult things about trying to follow the Lord, was knowing when a thought came from Him, or when it just came from his own foolhardy brain. Had God placed a nugget of a thought about Emma's dad in his mind, when he was dreaming about expanding his business for the future? After all, he and Emma had diligently prayed on New Year's Eve, asking for God's help in rehabilitating her father, to guide them in that pursuit. Was this a message along that path?

  Jeremy made a turn onto a side road where his customer lived. Well, the Big Man was going to have to be a lot clearer on the subject than that, for him to get it.

  * * *

  Tonight was the night.

  After several idea shares about how God might be leading them to help Emma's father, they were no closer to a strategy. Emma's father needed to stop drinking. They knew it and God knew it. Now, they just had to get Emma's father to believe it.

  But how? Maybe they didn't need a grand plan. Maybe they just needed to ask him the question, “Will you go to AA?” Emma couldn't recall anyone ever asking her father that question.

  So, Emma had called her mom and told her she and Jeremy wanted to come over tonight to talk to them. Of course, her mom was reluctant for Emma to bring him over, and Jeremy couldn't blame her. They all knew Mr. Slotky would react strongly to his visit, probably try to throw him out. It's possible that the message would be better delivered without him there.

  But Emma had gotten his commitment to help and they were in it together, so tonight was the night.

  Emma drove and parked in the driveway. They walked together up to the front door, and after exchanging a glance, inside.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  She led him into the kitchen and found Mrs. Slotky drying a dish. Her smile at their approach was natural, but nervous. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said into a hug for her daughter.

  “Mom, this is Jeremy.”

  She looked up at him and he could read so much about her on her face. Her love for her family. Her husband and her daughter made up her small world. He had intruded into that world, and as much as she wanted to welcome him warmly, she just wasn't there yet.

  “So nice to meet you, ma'am.” He held out a hand and she shook it tentatively. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

  “We're glad to have you, Jeremy,” she said in an automatic response. But the tone of her voice belied her trouble believing in the advisability of having him over.

  Emma took her mom's hand and led her to the table. They sat. Jeremy lingered in the doorway. “Mom, before Daddy comes up, I want to give you a preview of what we're going to talk to him about. And I'd like your support on this.”

  Her eyes darted between Emma and Jeremy. “Okay.”

  “Mom, Dad needs help. This has gone on long enough. I don’t know why I never suspected he was an alcoholic. I guess I just figured he drank out of boredom, not because he was addicted to it. But it's put a dark cloud over his whole life.”

  Mrs. Slotky
stared at her daughter, then swung her gaze slowly over to Jeremy. “No offense intended here, Jeremy, but it wasn't his drinking that brought the dark cloud. The drinking came later. Losing his job is what started his downward spiral.”

  Jeremy knew from the redness of her face how hard it was for her to say that. “I understand. And please, don't feel uncomfortable. I've apologized to Emma and to Mr. Slotky himself for my part in his troubles. And now I'd like to apologize to you, too. I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger, and I know they impacted a lot of people, your family included. I'll regret that for the rest of my life. I spent a decade in prison trying to pay my debt and now that I'm released, every single day I work on putting my life back together by working hard, being honest and taking responsibility for my actions.”

  Mrs. Slotky's face evolved during the course of his apology from uptight, uncomfortable, out of her element, to appreciation and acceptance. When he finished, she gave him a genuine smile and reached her hand out to him. He took it and squeezed it.

  She looked over at Emma and nodded before releasing his hand. “He's a good guy,” she said softly.

  “So, are you going to support us here, Mom? You can't side with Dad if he resists our help. You know he's not living a healthy life and he needs to quit drinking.”

  “Yes.”

  The word was just out of her mouth when Mr. Slotky came into the kitchen from the basement. He came to a stop at the sight of Jeremy and glared. “You again.”

  Mrs. Slotky got up and shepherded him into the small room, leading him by the shoulder. “Yes, remember I told you Emma was bringing Jeremy over, Gary?”

  “Yeah, I remember, Edna. That doesn't mean I'm happy about it. I don't want him in my house.”

  “But he and Emma are friends now. And we welcome him because of that.” She became a nervous ball of energy, grabbing glasses out of the cabinet, filling them with ice and handing one to each person. “Emma Jean, please take drink orders. I've got soda cans out in the garage.”

  Emma nodded. “Daddy, what would you like to drink?” He shook a hand at her, declining the offer. Jeremy was glad to see he didn't have a beer can in his hand. Jeremy asked for water just to validate Mrs. Slotky's hospitality. Eventually, everyone had a refreshment except for Mr. Slotky and they moved to the living room. Everyone sat except Emma.

  “Daddy, Jeremy and I have something we want to talk to you about.”

  It was the wrong start to the conversation.

  “That monster doesn't have anything to say to me. Tolerating him here in my home is one thing. I do it under protest, but only because it's your home too, baby girl. But he doesn't have the right to tell me nothing.”

  Jeremy stood and took Emma's arm and pulled her aside. “He's right, Emma. Why don't I leave? I think I'm only making matters worse. This is more a family matter.”

  She stared at him with eyes wide. “You're bailing on me? After you promised we'd do this together?”

  “No, no. I'm just thinking he'd be more receptive if it were just the three of you. He's angry at me and he's not going to listen.”

  Emma took a deep breath and let it out. “I need your help. I'll do the talking, but you need to stay.”

  He scanned her face and finally agreed. For some reason, she thought she couldn't be successful at this without him. She had way more faith in him than he did himself.

  “Daddy, Jeremy's offered to leave, but I asked him to stay. Now, he's not going to do any talking, but can you at least respect the fact that I want him here?”

  Mr. Slotky contorted his mouth in consideration, looked up at his daughter, then sighed. He waved a hand at her, an invitation to get on with it.

  “Daddy, we're all worried about you. I'm worried about you. You have to know that for some time now, you haven't been living a healthy life. You spend most of your time in the basement, you don't have work to keep you busy, you don't even do jobs around the house. But what I'm most worried about is your drinking.”

  He rolled his eyes but stayed quiet.

  “It's obvious to me that you have a drinking problem. You need to get help.” She pulled out the flyer she'd picked up at the church and held it out to him.

  “What's this?” he mumbled, peering at it.

  “A flyer about Alcoholics Anonymous. I think …”

  “You've got to be kidding. Did he talk you into this?” His derision caused his eyes to squint and lip to curl.

  “No. This is my idea. I love you Daddy, and I don't want to see you like this anymore. I want my old dad back. My hero. The one who could tackle any problem, and accomplish anything he set his mind to.” She went to him and knelt at his feet, taking his hands in hers. “I want you to be around for my wedding day, to meet your grandchildren. The way you're living, you might not make it.”

  “That's ridiculous,” he objected, but he wasn't belligerent about it. Maybe Emma was getting through to him.

  “You've been someone I've looked up to, my whole life. You've been a great dad. But you've lost your way. I want to help you find your way back. Jeremy wants to help, and Mom too. You've been mad at the Harrisons for so long, it's colored your entire outlook on life. You need to work hard to put your life back together.”

  “If that bum hadn't run his dad's company into the ground, I wouldn't have to put my life back together. It would still be together.”

  “You can't blame your joblessness and your alcoholism on Jeremy. Take responsibility. Do it for Mom, so you can start helping her. Do it for yourself so you get your pride back. Your life is worth more than it's become, Dad. But it all starts here.” She waved the flyer at him. “AA says that only you can quit drinking. Mom and I can't make you quit. You have to do it.”

  Mr. Slotky waved his hands like he was erasing chalk from a blackboard. “Darlin', there's a difference between having a few brews every day and being an alcoholic. I'm not addicted. I just enjoy a few drinks to help ease the problems of the day. Besides, I don't think you can be an alcoholic from beer. That's hard liquor only, and I don't touch the stuff.”

  Mrs. Slotky sat in the corner chair, staring at her feet, her face growing redder and still as a stone. It probably took all her control not to defend her husband, but she'd promised her daughter she'd support her in this.

  “That's not true, Daddy. Beer is addictive, too. Now, I want this to be a new year for our family. Let's make positive changes. We can do it together. It'll be hard, but Mom and I will help you. But you have to make up your mind to change.”

  Mr. Slotky wiped a tear that had fallen onto his cheek. “I want to make positive change. But AA isn't the answer. I don't belong there, honey. I'm not an alcoholic. I don't have a drinking problem. There's no need for me to quit drinking, but you're right. I need to find a job. I need to throw myself into a job search. If I were working, I wouldn't drink so much.”

  Emma looked over to Jeremy, her concern obvious on her face. Her dad was taking a detour and she didn't like it. “Daddy, I really think you need to go to AA first. Get your drinking under control, and then get a job.”

  “Baby girl, I hear what you're saying, but I'm not gonna let you push me around, you hear?” He stood and took a few steps toward her, stumbled, and she helped him stand. “You did good, honey. You came to me with your concerns, and you want to push to get me to fix some problems. I was in a rut. You saw it; I see it too. You love your daddy. But I'm not going to no Alcoholics Anonymous, I'll tell you that right now. Because it won't help me. That's not my problem. I'm not saying I can't quit drinking. I'm saying I don't need to. Don't want to. Once I get a job, it'll all fall into place, you'll see.” Mr. Slotky rested a heavy arm on her shoulder. Jeremy wasn't sure if it was a gesture of affection, or he needed the support to stand without falling over.

  Emma's resolve was starting to crumble. She looked over at her mom. “Mom?”

  Mrs. Slotky came to her feet and joined her family, standing in a little triangle in the living room. “It's an improvement,” she sa
id tentatively. “Maybe this'll work.”

  Emma shook her head. “Mom, you told me he was an alcoholic. If that's true, then he needs to go to a program. He can't keep drinking, even if he plans to cut back.”

  Mr. Slotky stepped back and pointed a glare at his wife. “You told her I was an alcoholic?” he asked incredulously. “Why would you say that?”

  Mrs. Slotky's face crumbled, tears escaping. “You drink every day, Gary. I come home every night and you haven't done a thing around the house but you manage to finish a case of beer every day! Beer I can't afford to pay for. We give up other things to pay for that, don't we?”

  “Where is it?” Emma asked. “I'll take it with me and return it. I'll bring you the money back. No one needs that much beer.”

  “Now!” Mr. Slotky shouted. “I'm the man of this house and I have a say in this. You,” he pointed at Emma, “are not taking my beer. It's staying right here. And you,” he pointed at his wife, “you need to trust in your husband, Edna. I've had a rough patch. But I know how serious this is. You leave it to me. I will get a job, and I will cut back on drinking. You gonna give me a chance or what?”

  Mrs. Slotky hesitated only a second, then she opened her arms to him and her husband stepped into them. “Of course I will. Oh Gary, this is such good news. I'm so glad Emma came here tonight, I was dreading it so, but this is a perfect result. Once you get a job, you'll see, you'll feel so much better about yourself, you won't want to drink so much. You won't have time. And maybe you'll even want to do some of that 'Honey Do' list that I wrote for you.”

  He brought his hands to her cheeks and held her face in his palms. “I love you, you know.” He placed a tender kiss on her lips and they shared a moment of tears and renewal.

  Emma watched her parents, then turned her head in Jeremy's direction. The question in her eyes was clear.