Isle of Hope

by Julie Lessman

  The door swung wide, and her heart leapt in her chest at his sober expression, reminding her how painful this would be for this man that she loved … and for her.

  “I brought you p-pie,” she whispered, unable to stop the quiver of her lips or the swell of saltwater in her eyes.

  Without a word, he pulled her inside and shut the door, taking the pie from her hands and placing it on the foyer table before he swallowed her up in his arms, crushing her close. “Whatever it is, Tess, we’ll get through it.”

  “Oh, B-Ben,” she whispered through a broken heave, “I’m so sorry …”

  Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her into the family room and placed her on the sofa before sitting beside her, taking her hands in his. “He’s sick, isn’t he?” he whispered, and she nodded, not surprised that as a physician, he’d deduced that far quicker than she. “Cancer?” His voice was low, calm, but even on lips so practiced at conveying bad news, the very sound of the word left a terrible pall in the air.

  She could only nod once again, the swipe of her fingers unable to keep up with her trickle of tears. He reached behind to snatch several Kleenex from his recliner table, gently kneading her shoulder as he prodded the tissues into her hand. “What’s the prognosis?” he asked quietly.

  Swabbing her face, she stopped to blow her nose before she answered in a feeble voice congested with grief. “The d-doctors say he’s terminal, no more than six months to live, but I refuse to believe that, Ben.” She stared at him through raw eyes that throbbed with a headache. “God can heal, Ben, we both know that He can.”

  He tucked her close to his chest, the warmth of his body against hers a cocoon of comfort she never wanted to leave. “Of course He can, Tess,” he said quietly, massaging her back with a tenderness she’d come to expect from this man who seldom revealed his soft side to others. “And that’s how we’ll pray.”

  She hesitated, loathe to utter the next words for the damage they might do. “I … I asked him to stay,” she whispered, “with us instead of at a motel.”

  His hand paused, so briefly she wondered if she’d only imagined it before the warmth of his palm returned, coaxing the tension from her shoulders. “Of course you did—it’s one of the things I love most about you, Tess—your tender heart.” There was no mistaking the pause now. “So where does that leave us?” he asked softly.

  Her eyelids lumbered closed. “He’s my husband, Ben …”

  “Was your husband, Tess …”

  She pulled away with liquid pain in her eyes, her stomach in spasms over the wounded look on his face. Stroking his jaw with impassioned tenderness, she leaned to gently brush her lips to his cheek. “I love you, Ben Carmichael—deeply—and someday I hope to become your wife. But for now—Adam’s home, and for his sake, my family’s, and even myself—I need to distance myself from you and focus on him. At least until he’s well enough to get past this or until …” She swallowed hard, unable to go on. The thought of a man as strong and virile as Adam use to be facing death was too much to bear. Her fingers shook as she gouged them through her hair. “I … I just can’t think beyond that right now, and I’m hoping you’ll understand.”

  “I do,” he whispered, skimming his thumb over her knuckles before lifting them to his mouth to do the same with his lips. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Tess,” he said quietly, “and I will wait forever, if that’s what it takes.”

  She blinked, then launched into his arms with a sob, clinging with a ferocity as fierce as the love that she bore. “I love you with everything in me, Ben, and my prayers will be with you every single day, even if I can’t be.”

  He pressed a lingering kiss to her hair before pulling away to gently buff her arms. “You need to go,” he whispered, tugging her to her feet.

  She nodded and rose, arms crossed and clutched to her waist. “Will you pray for me?”

  The edge of his lip canted as he led her down the hall. “You don’t really think I’d leave something this important to chance, do you?”

  Head bowed, she opened the door and peered up, brows tented in sorrow. “And you’ll pray for Adam too? That God will bless him and heal him?”

  Hip to the jamb, he folded his arms with the faintest slant of a smile. “You don’t make this easy, do you?”

  “There’s nothing easy about this,” she whispered, her voice trembling as much as she.

  Eyes closed, he kneaded the bridge of his nose while his chest rose and fell in a cumbersome sigh. When he finally glanced up, his gaze fused to hers with an intensity that conveyed the depth of love that they shared. “Yes, Tess, I’ll pray for Adam.”

  Nodding, she stepped out on the porch, pivoting to face him. “And you’ll work on forgiving him, too?” she asked softly, heart lurching when his lips slashed into a scowl.

  “For crying out loud, you can’t shoot for the moon,” he said with an edge to his voice, broad shoulders obviously slumping along with his mood.

  She tried to memorize every angle of his hard-sculpted face, every generous curve of the mouth that had brought her so much passion and joy. A soft smile lighted upon her lips despite the grief in her heart. “Oh, sure you can, Ben,” she said with a caress of his stubbled jaw, eyes misty with a love she never dreamed she’d have again. “How do you think I got you?”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Hands tented to the window, Lacey peeked in the back slider door, lips curving in a tender smile as she made out the form of her father in his recliner with eyes closed and Beau on his lap. Light from the TV flickered on his face in an otherwise dark room, and Lacey’s heart squeezed at the thought that the gloom of darkness may have crept into his mind as well.

  With a gentle tap on the glass, Beau barked and vaulted from the chair. Her father stirred with a blink of wide eyes that bore the faintest flash of hope before they dimmed into a tired smile, confirming the suspicions she and Jack had down on the dock. He was obviously crushed over Mr. O’Bryen’s return, and although Tess worked hard not to show it, Lacey surmised Jack’s mother secreted the same pain. Both Jack and she had suspected their parents had fallen in love, although neither had given any blatant indication to the fact. But the night she and Daddy had finally reconciled, she’d seen a glimpse of something in his eyes at the mention of Tess, a tenderness in his tone that had escaped her before. Since then, she’d been watching the interplay between the two, and once she’d confided in Jack, he’d seen the signs too.

  Without question, her father was in love with Jack’s mother.

  Easing the slider open, Lacey promptly scrubbed Beau’s snout, bending down to nuzzle his head before she quietly closed the door. “Hey, I was wondering if you wanted some company for the latest NCIS?” She sauntered over to her father’s chair and leaned to kiss his cheek, giving him a quick hug in the process.

  Which he returned, she noted with a rush of joy.

  But his smile couldn’t mask the sadness shadowing his eyes. “Already watched it,” he said with a half-hearted stretch, “but I’m game for your choice of movie if you want, although I draw the line at romance.”

  Of course you do, she thought with an ache in her heart. She scrunched her nose. “Nope, I’m thinking something more fast-paced and gutsy like one of the Bourne movies—your choice.”

  “Great—I have all the DVDs, so go for it.” He handed her the remote and punched the release button on his recliner, dropping the footrest so he could rise and head for the kitchen. “I’ll make popcorn, and there’s plenty of Diet DP this time unless you want grape juice.”

  She forced a bright tone, her words catching on the lump of emotion in her throat. “DP sounds good,” she called, queuing up the movie. The smell of popcorn drifted in to rumble her stomach when he returned with two cans of Diet DP. “Thanks, Daddy, you rock!”

  His smile shifted off-center. “I’m guessing that’s more apt if referencing the Stone Age rather than me being ‘cool,’ but I’ll take it.” He shuffled back in the room with
two bowls of popcorn and napkins, Beau hot on his heels. “I also have some of Mamaw’s peach pie with a little bit of Häagen-Dazs left if you want it.” He handed her a bowl and napkin before settling back in his chair and tossing a handful of popcorn to Beau.

  Mamaw’s peach pie. She secretly winced as she burrowed into the corner of the sofa, feet tucked beneath. The prelude to disaster.

  “Nope, popcorn is just the ticket, thanks.” She absently clicked the remote, and the Jaws-like thump of the music for Bourne Ultimatum filled the family room with its intense beat, echoing the racing thud of her pulse. Jason Bourne appeared, trudging through the snow in Moscow, wounded and running scared.

  Just like my father.

  She studied her dad’s strong and handsome profile out of the corner of her eye and was so glad she’d come. All of her life she’d needed him and never even known it. Her heart swelled with a staggering love molded and gifted by God.

  And now he needed her.

  Unleashing a silent sigh, Lacey refocused on the TV where Jason Bourne ducked into a Moscow subway to escape the Soviet police. “Gosh, Daddy, wouldn’t it be awful to have to run for your life?” she said casually, not expecting an answer.

  “Yeah. But I think I’m about to find out.” His mumbled response stopped her cold, muttered so low, she knew he hadn’t meant her to hear.

  Fixed on his profile, she felt her heart pound in time with the staccato beat of the music. “Daddy?”

  He glanced over, fatigue shaping his features. “Yeah, Lace?”

  “Can I … I mean, would it be okay …” She hesitated with a chew of her lip, so very afraid he might say no.

  One edge of his mouth inched up. “Spit it out, Lace. You’re sitting here with a lonely old man watching a movie you’ve already seen when you could be spooning with Jack. It’s not likely I’ll say ‘no.’”

  She couldn’t help it—she grinned. “Spooning? What, are you from the turn of the last century?”

  His chuckle warmed her heart. “Nope, but I sure feel like it at times,” he said with a weary fan of fingers through his hair. Tenderness eased the strain in his face. “What do you want, Lace? It’s yours, up to half my kingdom.”

  She fiddled with a piece of popcorn while she peeked up at him with a shy look. “Could I … spend the night? You know, in the guest bedroom?”

  His smile crooked. “You mean your old bedroom? Sure, the sheets should be clean although I can’t vouch there’s no dust.” He popped a piece of popcorn in his mouth and chewed for several seconds before his gaze locked on hers. “Why?”

  She rolled her lips inward with a timidity and awe that her father had always fostered. “Because I … want to be close to you,” she said softly, “especially tonight.”

  He stared at her, popcorn paused at his lips, and she wasn’t prepared for the sheen of tears that sprang to his eyes. Mouth compressed as if to contain his emotion, he gave a jerky nod and turned away, a muscle quivering in his jaw while he stared at the screen. The blare of horns and police sirens ricocheted off the family room walls as Bourne lunged from a subway train into dangerous territory. Much as Lacey was about to do.

  She paused the movie. “Daddy?”

  This time he continued to stare straight ahead. “Yeah, Lace?”

  “I’m so sorry about tonight,” she whispered, her heart wobbling as much as her voice. “For both you and Tess.”

  He bowed his head, the faintest of smiles curving on his lips. “So all our stealth and secrecy was for naught, eh?”

  “Only with Jack and me—everybody else thinks you’re just friends and neighbors.”

  Nodding slowly, he issued a grunt. “Yeah, well, they would be right.”

  “What are you going to do?” she said quietly, fiddling with a piece of popcorn until it disintegrated between her fingers.

  Dropping his palms flat on the arms of the chair, he exhaled a heavy sigh and leaned back, head resting while he stared at the ceiling. “Not much I can do but abide by her request to put distance between us for now.” His eyelids sank along with his volume. “May as well ask me not to breathe …”

  The threat of tears stung in her nose. “Oh, Daddy—you love her, don’t you?”

  Ever so slowly, he turned to face her then, and the vulnerability she saw in this once self-sufficient and untouchable man pierced her to the core. “More than I ever dreamed possible, Lacey, and far more than I ever deserved.”

  Her hand stilled in the bowl. “I’m so sorry—I’m heartsick for you.”

  He smiled, although the glaze was back in his eyes. “Me too, kiddo.” Placing his bowl on the table, he lowered the footrest and angled her way, shoulders hunched and hands clasped while they rested over his knees. “But now that we’re on the subject, I do have a favor to ask.”

  “Anything,” she said with such passion that he actually grinned.

  “Calm down, Lace—I’m not asking for a kidney here.” He scratched the back of his head, nose pinched while he stared at the floor as if afraid of her reaction. “Although it’s pretty close.” His chest expanded and contracted with a noisy breath before his gaze met hers. “I was wondering if you and Jack would consider dog- and house-sitting for me after you get married.”

  She shimmied to the edge of the couch, clutching her bowl in excitement. “Are you kidding?” She wiggled her brows in tease. “I’ve been wanting to get Jack alone in my bedroom since I was sixteen.”

  He slid her a droll smile. “Yeah, I know, which is why I watched you like a rabid hawk.”

  “So, when? And for how long?” She tossed a popped kernel high in the air, snapping it with her teeth.

  He peered up beneath dark lashes. “Right after the honeymoon … for about six months.”

  Hacking uncontrollably, she watched him through watering eyes as he jumped up and stood close, obviously poised to perform the Heimlich if needed. She waved him off and snatched the can of DP he shoved in her face, glugging it till her pulse began to slow.

  “You okay?” He hovered over her like he used to hover over the scotch and whiskeys he always guzzled before dinner.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she rasped, hand to her chest while her gaze glommed to his. “Did you say six months?”

  His smile was sheepish. “Yeah, I did. One of my oldest friends is affiliated with the International Children’s Heart Foundation, and he’s been hounding me for years now to sign up for their medical mission trips, so I plan to contact him.” He absently scratched his neck, smile suddenly flat. “The ICHF provides life-saving surgeries for babies born with congenital heart defects all over the world, and I’m ashamed to say I’ve been putting him off. Oh, I’ve done a number of little overseas junkets here and there for the Save a Child’s Heart Foundation, but something tells me this is the right time to donate more of my time and skills.” He glanced up. “Not to mention the right reason.” He cuffed the back of his head again. “Besides, I know you and Jack want to get into a house as soon as possible, so this would be a way to save rent while you take your time looking, right?”

  A slow smile eased across her face. “Are you kidding? It’s a win-win all around. Between work, the wedding, and the time we’ll be spending with Jack’s family right now because of his father, both of us are swamped. Neither of us really has the time to find an apartment we actually like, much less decorate one. And we’ve been butting heads over renting vs. buying because he wants a house right away, and I think we should save a while, so this is a no-brainer as far as I’m concerned.”

  “You think Jack will agree?” Her father peered up, the slightest kink in his brows.

  She tilted her head in a squint, reflecting on Jack’s conversation on the dock. Although he was still angry with his father, he felt compelled to spend time with his family as a unit for their sake, and maybe even for himself, hopefully to dispel the bitterness and hurt he still harbored. Living next door to the O’Bryen’s for the next six months would certainly accomplish that, and the very thought tip
ped her lips into a smile. “I think Jack will thank you, Daddy, because the timing is right—for everyone.” As soon as the words left her tongue, a sense of awe settled at just how right this suddenly felt, and she smiled at her dad through misty eyes, voice lowered to a hush. “But then God’s timing usually is.”

  Her father nodded slowly, as if everything had clicked into place for him too. When his gaze finally met hers once again, she sensed a peace that hadn’t been there before. “Thanks, Lacey,” he whispered, “for loving me despite my many faults.”

  “Oh, Daddy …” She lunged into a hug that was quickly returned. “Like father, like daughter,” she whispered, gratitude surging for all that God had done. “Both of you …”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Shrieks and giggles echoed down the hall into Tess’s kitchen from the front of the house where her family—including Jack—all watched Shrek with their father. Punching in the appropriate time for popcorn, she closed her eyes and leaned against the microwave door, the sound of Adam’s laughter taking her back to better times.

  It had been only a week since he had reentered their lives, and yet to Tess, at times, it almost seemed as if he’d never left. In a matter of only days, her family had circled the wagons, protecting him, enjoying him … loving him. Like one, long, glorious pajama party with no end. Their weekends and evenings were filled with favorite movies, games, and memories past, bonding them together as cohesively as the epoxy Adam used on Davey’s model airplane.

  She moved to a pot on the stove where a stick of butter slowly melted away, not unlike the hurt and bitterness that had once stifled their family. Even Cat, so guarded in the beginning appeared to be warming up more and more, spending as much time with Adam as Davey and Shan. Jack, of course, was slower on the thaw, his manner considerably stiffer with his dad. But considering his prior red-hot anger over Adam’s betrayal, Tess considered it progress.