by Delia Latham
“No…” But the reminder of Christ’s ever-existent love for her wasn’t easily removed from Summer’s consciousness. He loved her while she was still in her mother’s womb…and didn’t the Bible say man was created in His image? With that in mind, it almost seemed possible that Logan had known her before she came to Cambria.
“He told you about his dreams, didn’t he?” Miss Angie’s soft voice broke into Summer’s epiphany.
What?
“You know about his dreams?”
A soft wash of pink colored Miss Angie’s cheeks. “Yes.”
If Logan had confided those dreams to the hostess at Paradise Pines, he must have had some questions of his own. Somehow, the idea relieved a bit of her concern. Maybe he wasn’t as distanced from her in the spiritual arena as she’d feared. He had doubts too. “Miss Angie, how is it even possible? How could Logan dream about me before we met?”
“Why, Summer—you read your Bible, darling, I know you do. I’ve seen you sitting in this very spot with one in your lap. So think about it. God has used dreams as a form of communication with humans since the beginning of time. Abraham, Samuel, Daniel, Mary, Peter…just to name a few. Even Cornelius, although the Bible calls his experience a vision. Still, it’s the same concept, isn’t it? God does speak with His children while they sleep.” Her next words held a ring of sadness. “I guess sometimes the world is too loud during waking hours for us to hear His still, small voice.”
Summer wasn’t ignorant of the Bible, and had heard and read many of those stories about visitations through dreams and visions.
Miss Angie had made the connection in an instant.
What was wrong with her own walk with Christ, that she hadn’t connected the same dots and accepted the possibility of God giving Logan a forewarning to save her life? She had some soul searching to do. God wanted her to live. Surely that indicated her life had meaning, and God intended to use her for something significant. Did He intend Logan to be a part of the future for which he’d saved her? Summer’s heart and soul said yes, despite the clamoring of her logical, reasonable, orderly mind.
Beside her, Miss Angie rose in one graceful motion. She laid a hand on Summer’s head, and then stroked her fingers down the long strands. “Relax, dear. Let God do whatever it is He’s working on in your life. He doesn’t need your help, or your permission.”
Summer found herself unable to look away from the azure eyes fixed unwaveringly on her own, or even to form a word of response.
“All He needs from you is obedience and a willingness to be led. If you give Him those things, the possibilities are limitless as to what He can do.”
Miss Angie smiled, sending a warm ray of something pure and divine into Summer’s soul, and then she turned and walked—no, glided— toward the lodge.
Summer remained where she was, not moving so much as a finger.
Freckle loped into sight. As he always did when she sat on the ground, he plopped down beside her. Only then did Summer move, running a hand gently down the length of the fawn’s back.
A gorgeous seaside community. A dream. An infant deer. A handsome, talented man.
And her. Summer Callihan. A shy, quiet writer who hadn’t reached any notable degree of fame as yet.
What was God concocting with such a strange mix of elements?
****
“Logan! How are you, man?”
Logan grinned and returned Pastor Brady Merckle’s hearty half-hug and energetic pounding of his shoulder. “I’m good. What are you up to? What is that thing?”
Brady laughed. “I’m not really sure. Raine sent it over with Dec, along with a message to get it cleaned up. She has plans for it with the kids.”
Logan eyed the odd contraption. A tangled mess of metal and wire, it was certainly nothing usable. But then, Raine Presley-Keller was a remarkable woman. She’d used a number of odd items—broken things most people would’ve tossed in the dumpster without a second thought—to teach valuable life lessons to the teens within the walls of Chrysalis, Cambria’s new shelter for young people without a home.
Brady, Raine—with help here and there from her new husband, Declan Keller—and a number of volunteer members of the Cambria House of Praise kept Chrysalis flying. Miss Angie had played housemother for a month or two after the place opened, but she’d made it clear she would take on the job only on a temporary basis, and stepped gracefully aside when Brady hired a single, middle-aged woman in the church to fill the role. Based on Josie Gantry’s success with the kids, and the way they all treated her like a surrogate mom, the pastor must have chosen the woman under direct instructions from on high.
“So…” Brady straightened, pulled a thick grease rag from his hip pocket, and wiped his hands while he studied Logan. “What’s on your mind, my friend? Looks to me like something’s got you a little off your game.” The pastor stuck one end of the rag back in his pocket and jerked his head toward the church. “Want to sit in my office a while? We can have a cup of coffee and a chat.” He started walking in that direction.
Logan fell into step beside him.
“We might even talk one of the girls into bringing us a doughnut.”
“Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
In Brady’s office, which lacked luxury and strove instead for serviceability, they sat on one side of a tiny table pushed up against the single window.
Logan looked through the sparkling clean glass and smiled.
The pastor’s office might be barebones, but the view of the Pacific was nothing short of spectacular.
Brady punched a button on his phone.
“Yes, Pastor?”
“Raine, you’re here early. I didn’t expect to hear your voice.”
“I had a couple of things I wanted to go over with Josie and Tara. What’s up?”
“I have a guest in my office. I don’t suppose you could send one of the kids over with a couple of those doughnuts I saw in the kitchen…could you?”
Raine laughed, and Logan—for at least the hundredth time—thought he understood why his friend Dec Keller had fallen head over heels in love with the dark-haired beauty soon after they met.
“Someone’ll be over in just a jiffy.”
“Thank you.”
Brady joined Logan at the table and followed his gaze out the window. “God sure put on a grand display out there, didn’t He?”
“That He did.” Logan tore his gaze from the ocean. “How’ve you been, Brady? I haven’t had a chance to stop in for a while. How’s Chrysalis coming along?”
“Man, I can’t believe how well it’s doing. Of course, Raine’s the strongest cog in that wheel. She’s amazing with those kids. I don’t think there’s a teen over there who wouldn’t take a bullet for her, if need be.”
“I don’t doubt it. Raine’s a special woman.” He grinned at the pastor. “Dec did good, didn’t he?”
“He did, indeed.”
Brady jumped up when a quiet tap-tap-tap interrupted their conversation. He swung the office door open to reveal a young girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with huge brown eyes and hair almost the same color. Her lips twitched a bit, and the twitch grew into a stiff semblance of a smile.
The pastor relieved her of the plate of doughnuts. “Thank you, Carrie. I appreciate your help.” His soft, soothing voice seemed to relax the poor kid—but not much.
The girl shrugged. “No problem.”
Logan barely heard the words.
Carrie swung around and trucked off down the hall, moving out of their sight as fast as she could without running.
What horrors had that poor girl suffered in her life to make her so gun-shy around people? Or maybe it was just men. The thought soured his stomach.
Brady set the plate of sweets on a small table.
Logan crossed the room to the coffee pot and filled a mug for each of them.
After a quick prayer, Brady put a glazed doughnut on his plate and leaned back against his chair, mug of hot coffee i
n hand. “So…spill it, my friend. What’s got your forehead creased? And that smile of yours—the one that makes the girls all giggly and weird—it’s a little lopsided today. I take it that’s why you’re here?”
“Can’t pull anything over on you, can I?”
“I don’t think you really want to.” Brady reached for the sweet treat, but his gaze never left Logan’s face. “I think you came here to tell me what’s on your heart. And that’s good. It’s why I’m here.” Brady didn’t push.
“I need to know if I’m losing my mind, or if God’s trying to tell me something.” Logan chuckled, even as a wave of heat rose and warmed his face. “I’m here to talk about Summer.”
“Summer.” Brady’s narrow gaze accompanied a slow smile. “You’re not talking about the nice, warm weather out there, are you? I should’ve known. Nothing but a woman could turn Logan Bullard upside down and inside out.” He set his mug on the table, intertwined his hands and placed them against the back of his head. “So tell me about Summer.”
Logan left nothing out, except Summer’s occupation. Since she guarded it so carefully, he didn’t feel at liberty to share it, even with Brady.
Brady’s playful gaze turned serious. A crease appeared in his forehead. He sat up straighter in his chair, taking in every word.
“I love her, Brady. She claimed my heart completely…before I ever met her.” He pulled in a deep, shaky breath and huffed it out again. Then he met the pastor’s gaze and shrugged. “So what do you think? Am I insane? Should you call the men in white to come and take me away?”
Brady held Logan’s gaze. Finally, he leaned forward and bumped his fist against Logan’s, which rested on the table between them. “Crazy? Hardly. My friend, you are blessed!”
Logan blinked. Blessed? Maybe the pastor was the crazy one. “What do you mean, blessed? Brady, I fell in love with a woman in my dreams. And now I’ve met her, and she’s absolutely perfect. Beautiful. Kind. Sweet. Just…perfect. So even if I’m not out of my mind—which is still undecided—what in the world will I do when Summer goes back to Two Lakes? Or Three Creeks…wherever it is she lives.”
Brady chuckled. “Three Rivers?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“That’s not exactly a world away, Logan, but I’ll tell you what I’d do, if you’re interested.”
“That’s why I’m here.” He managed a crooked grin. “Well, kind of. I had no idea which direction this conversation would take.”
“I can imagine. We’ll talk more about it, of course. But one thing I can tell you right up front. If a gorgeous woman came to me straight out of my dreams, I’d give her a thousand reasons to stay right here in Cambria. It’s pretty clear God sent her here, that He sent her to you, and that He has a purpose for her life…” He hiked an eyebrow and gave a shake of his head. “It’s up to you to make her want to stay.”
8
“So…who’s the hottie you’ve been hanging out with?”
Summer was perched on one end of the sofa, her laptop on a TV tray in front of her. She’d been up since just after dawn, enjoying the solitude and the sound of the ocean through an open window.
Her cousin dropped onto the other end of the couch. A mug of hot coffee in hand, Deah fixed Summer with a curious gaze that bordered on hungry. Ravenous.
Judging by the other girl’s bloodshot amber eyes, Summer had a feeling the coffee was serving a purpose that had nothing to do with taste or with helping her wake up. Deah had not walked, but stumbled into her room when she came into the apartment sometime around two in the morning. Uncle and Auntie wouldn’t be happy to know their darling daughter was fond of strong drink, and it wasn’t Summer’s place to carry tales. She only hoped they never asked her outright, because she wouldn’t lie for her cousin.
And when had Deah spotted Logan? As far as Summer knew, the younger girl had been asleep or away every time Logan came to the lodge.
“I’m sorry…?”
“Oh, come off it, sweetie. I met him when he came in looking for your camera the other day.” Deah’s sharp gaze, accompanied by lewdly wagging eyebrows and a devilish grin, made Summer a little queasy.
Even though she’d known it was bound to happen with Logan coming around, she hadn’t wanted him to meet Deah. Be honest. You didn’t want Deah to meet Logan…because you know she can’t resist making a play for every nice-looking man she meets—especially if that man likes you.
Most of the time, men found Deah’s attention all too welcome. The thought gave Summer’s tummy a vicious turn. Was it really wicked to want to keep Logan all to herself, out of Deah’s vicinity? She swallowed hard and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle the sudden queasiness.
“Well?” Impatience put a sharp bite in Deah’s voice. “Out with it. Who is he? Where on earth did you meet him, since you never go anywhere? And why, dear cousin, are you hiding him from me?”
“Oh, Deah, please. I’m not hiding anyone from you. You’ve just never been around for me to make an introduction.”
“Hmmm.” Deah sipped at her coffee, but her gaze continued to rake Summer. “You still haven’t told me how you met him or who he is. Do I need to tell Daddy and Mama that their prim-and-perfect niece is becoming a ‘loose woman’?” She injected all the ridicule she could manage into the last two words, while stretching her eyes so wide they nearly took over her face.
“Deah!” Summer’s voice raised by several decibels, and she deliberately brought it down to normal. “Don’t be crude. Logan is just a friend.”
“Aha! Now we’re getting somewhere. Logan who?”
Summer’s fingers hovered over her laptop for a hopeful second or two. Perhaps Deah would get tired of interrogating her and find something more stimulating to do.
“Logan who?” An exaggerated exhale dashed Summer’s hope for reprieve. “I swear, Summer, trying to get anything out of you is like pulling teeth.”
“Bullard. His name is Logan Bullard, and he’s a local artist.” She deliberately downplayed Logan’s success. The girl had never bothered to hide her attraction to men with money. If she became of aware of Logan’s status in the art world, the poor guy wouldn’t stand a chance.
“An artist. So…is he a painter? A sculptor?” Deah giggled. “Does he crochet baby blankets and bonnets?”
Summer sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a painter.”
“Is he any good?”
She shrugged. “I think so, but I’m hardly an art critic.”
“Hmmm.” Deah’s abrasive gaze raked Summer’s face, and her eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Well, whatever his little hobby, he is one fine specimen.” She grinned when Summer flinched. “Just a friend, huh? Are you sure? Maybe I should get to know him better.”
Summer bit back a retort. If Deah thought she objected, there’d be no stopping her. Could she stand to watch Logan fall under her cousin’s spell? Well, she couldn’t very well lock him up in a brick-walled cell. She stifled a giggle. A cave with a beach view, however, might not be out of the question…
****
On Saturday night, Logan took her to an early dinner in West Village. He insisted on dining before the usual dinner hour, saying he had something planned for afterward that had to happen at a certain time.
Summer didn’t object. Logan’s surprises always proved to be worth whatever it took to make them happen.
Small and tucked away on a side street tourists rarely found, the restaurant provided top-of-the-line service, a menu worthy of five stars, and a lovely, candlelit table covered in white linen and located in an intimate cubicle away from prying eyes.
Despite the exquisite surroundings and impeccable venue, Logan’s company proved the best part of the evening. Summer had never felt so special, treasured, and cherished by another human being. Conversation flowed easily and without the stilted discomfort she usually experienced on a date—and Logan had made it clear that tonight was indeed a date.
Summer had balked. The word indicated somethin
g of a commitment…or at least a more-than-casual interest. She was a visitor in Cambria. This trip couldn’t be permanent—not that she thought Logan had any intentions in that direction just yet. But with her writer’s imagination, she could certainly dream up some permanent trouble all by herself. “I don’t know, Logan.” She’d deflected his invitation with a half answer. “A d-date?”
He laughed. “Yes, a date, and I refuse to call it anything else. Why is that a problem?”
“I’m not sure, but it kind of scares me.” Might as well be honest.
“Well, then, be brave. Come anyway.”
She laughed, and the moment of humor somehow relaxed her. What could a night out hurt, after all? Vacations were meant to enjoy, and she couldn’t deny she enjoyed Logan’s company.
So here she sat, wearing the one dressy garment she’d brought to Cambria. Across the candlelit table, in suit and tie, Logan looked…well, delectable. Her lips twitched, and he didn’t miss it. He never missed anything.
“What? Why are you trying not to smile?”
Of course she smiled then. She couldn’t help herself. “I plead the fifth.”
“Seriously?” He chuckled—a deep rumble that Summer thought she would never tire of hearing. “You won’t tell me?”
Her cheeks warmed, and she shook her head. “Nope.”
“Well, how is that fair? I thought you might be thinking I look rather nice in my Sunday-go-to-meetin’ finery.”
She gasped and her eyes widened.
He laughed again and reached across the table to take her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m not even a little embarrassed for you to know I think you look beautiful tonight.”
She lowered her lashes, despising the increasing warmth in her face. Why must she blush like a teenager?
“You look stunning in that color…whatever it is. Purply-pink?”
“Magenta.” Pulling in a deep breath, she forced herself to look at him again. When would she learn to take a compliment with grace?
“Ahhh…magenta. I’m a painter, why didn’t I know that?” His soft laughter washed over her like a caress. “Well, magenta is your color. And I love your hair all piled up on your head like that—but only for special occasions. When you wear it flowing free around your face and down your back…well…” He cleared his throat, and his eyes darkened to a smoky green. “That’s a sight that takes a man’s breath away.”
