One Summer

by JoAnn Ross

  “Not exactly the words I would have chosen,” Charity said. “But I totally agree.”

  “What about the lawyer?” Johnny asked, as they made their way back to the Jeep. Kara and Benton had arrived with klieg lights, as promised. They were shining out toward the water, turning the beach nearly as bright as day.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Benton said. “He’s a non-issue. Because you and your sister have friends in high places.”

  “Friends like you?”

  “Absolutely,” the judge assured him. “I’ve always wanted grandkids, and from what Amanda’s told me, I’d say I hit the jackpot with you two.”

  Johnny’s head whipped around, a lot like the kid’s in The Exorcist, and shot Charity a look. “You’re going to adopt us?”

  “I was hoping to. If that’s okay with you,” she tacked on.

  “Yeah. Sure. That’d be cool.” His tone might be trying for teenage nonchalance, but Gabe could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

  “Well then,” she said, “I’d like to see anyone try to stop me.”

  She’d no sooner spoken than her jeans pocket began playing “Dancing Queen.”

  “Hi, Mom,” she said as she answered her iPhone. Hearing the ringtone she’d assigned to her mother, Gabe wondered what she’d given him. Or maybe she hadn’t bothered to give him his own signature song, since he wouldn’t be sticking around that long. “Your timing’s perfect. We’ve got her.”

  There was silence as she listened to whatever her mother was saying.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “Thanks for letting us know.”

  She put the phone back in her pocket. “Mother received a call from the Craigs’ lawyer. His client doesn’t want us to bring Angel back to the inn. Not that we would have, of course. But apparently Craig and his wife have changed their minds.”

  Johnny’s hoot could probably have been heard all the way to Portland.

  As he pumped a fist in the air, Gabe met Charity’s gaze. And as her eyes brightened with moisture, and his own began burning, as well, Gabe felt something inside him, like the fault line that ran beneath the town, shift.

  67

  It turned out to be amazingly easy in the end.

  After Johnny and Angel were safely in bed, Mrs. Greene had arrived at the house and explained to Charity something that had not been included in Angel’s official records. Every time over the years, whenever numerous caseworkers had found what they’d hoped would become a permanent placement for the seemingly adorable little girl, the families she’d been placed with had called back within days, usually in a panic, insisting that there must be something very wrong with her, because the terribly violent temper tantrums she’d suffered made her seemed possessed.

  Despite her mother’s long-diagnosed schizophrenia, MRIs, CT scans, and examinations by a host of neurologists and psychiatrists could find no medical reason for Angel Harper’s abrupt change in behavior.

  So caseworker after caseworker had kept trying.

  And each time Angel would get herself thrown back into the system. Charity and Gabe realized that the out-of-character behavior was the only way the little girl had been able to think of to keep from becoming forever separated from her big brother. Who, to her mind, hung the moon.

  She’d been at Charity’s house for a week now. With Amanda and the judge back in Washington, and Johnny and Angel settled into their new home with what appeared to be amazing ease, proving the resiliency of children, Charity thought, life would have been perfect. Except for one shadow hovering on the horizon.

  Each night she went to sleep in Gabe’s arms, afraid the next morning she’d wake to find him gone.

  Which didn’t happen. But on the seventh morning, when she woke and found him sitting hunkered over a mug of coffee at the kitchen table in the stuttering early-dawn light, she knew they’d run out of time.

  “You’re leaving.”

  He looked up at her. His eyes were deeply shadowed, suggesting he’d been awake all night.

  Tough, was her first thought. Her second was that he was making the biggest mistake of his life and she couldn’t think of any way to stop him.

  “We both knew I would.”

  “Yes.” That was the deal, after all. One she’d signed on to. But they’d packed so much into the past weeks, surely he considered her more than simply another girl in another town.

  “You could always stay,” she suggested as she went over to the counter and poured a cup of coffee for herself. The pot was nearly empty. He’d been up a long time. “The photos you’ve taken while you’ve been here have been amazing.”

  They’d also shown a depth of emotion that had been missing from all his others, which, he’d told her, hadn’t gone unnoticed by his agent, who was excited about his apparent change in direction. What Charity had realized was that he’d begun to let his own emotions break out of that strongbox he’d locked them into so many years ago, when he’d been even younger than Johnny was now.

  He just needed a bit more time to understand that himself.

  She just needed a bit more time to help him see that his life could be so much more.

  “I’ve got a contract that calls for three more states,” he reminded her.

  “I’m sure other photographers don’t live like nomads.”

  “A lot do.”

  “But not all.”

  “No.”

  He sighed, obviously sensing where she was going with this.

  Like her mother, Charity had followed her heart, which had led her into love. Unlike what her mother had done, on so many occasions, she was not going to give up this relationship without giving it her best shot.

  “Surely some have spouses. Children. Families who wave them off and welcome them back home. This isn’t the eighteen hundreds. People travel for their careers all the time. That doesn’t mean they also allow work to define every moment of their lives.”

  “Some do. Others end up in so many serial relationships they make your mother look like a cloistered nun.”

  “That’s very good.” Because she wanted to pace, she forced herself to sit down and at least appear reasonable. Because if she gave in to instinct, she wouldn’t have a dish left in the house. “Focusing on the extremes. Rather than what I’m sure are the majority.”

  He shrugged again.

  “Would it make a difference if I told you I love you?”

  Sighed again. “I know you do. And I love you, too.”

  She’d known that, but wasn’t sure that he was that in touch with his own feelings. Oh, he’d shown her in countless ways. But this was the first time he’d said the words out loud. And instead of sounding like music, they fell dark and heavy between them. Like a death knell.

  “And it’s because I feel that way—”

  “Love me.” She was going to make him say it again. And again, if that’s what it took to pound some sense into that rock-hard Marine head.

  He nodded, accepting the correction. “It’s because I love you that I’m leaving.”

  Charity didn’t scream as she wanted to. Refused to cry as she desperately needed to. She’d already seen that, like most men, Gabe would rather face down a horde of terrorists than female tears.

  She would not use that weapon, because if he stayed, and God, how she wanted him to, she wanted him to do it not because of any feminine ploys but because he wanted, needed, to stay for himself.

  “You realize that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It does to me. You’ve made a terrific life here, Charity.” He waved his hand, encompassing the kitchen, the house, the entire town that gleamed in the rays of morning like a romanticized scene from a postcard. “I wouldn’t have any idea how to be a husband and father.”

  “Join the club. Because I don’t have any idea how to be a wife and mother. But I’m willing to give it my best shot.”

  “Yeah. Well, anyone could tell that you’re going to be great. I’d just screw things up and you’d end up hating me. A
nd neither one of us want that.”

  His tone was flat. Final.

  You knew it was coming. So suck it up and try to get out of this with some dignity intact.

  “Have you packed?”

  “Last night.” He gestured toward the duffel bag sitting by the door that she hadn’t noticed when she’d come into the kitchen.

  He traveled light. No complications, no baggage. At least, she thought with a deep, inner sigh, he would no longer be totally alone. Because now, thanks to her, he had Shadow.

  “Well then. I have a lot to do today.” That was a lie. The only thing she’d planned was a day at the beach with Gabe, the kids, and the dogs. “I guess I’d better get at it.”

  He was letting her go. Part of her had known it would end this way. But another, stronger part had believed that when push came to shove, he wouldn’t be able to walk out the door.

  Charity was headed toward the back staircase when he called her name.

  “What?” She glanced back. Hope was a hummingbird, fluttering its delicate, brightly colored wings in her chest.

  “Have a good life.”

  One of Kara’s favorite movies, which she’d made Charity and Sedona watch countless times, was Casablanca . It crossed her mind that for a parting statement it sure didn’t come up to what Bogie had told Ingrid Bergman just before he’d put her on that plane.

  Wanting to leave him with some pithy, parting words of her own, she nearly shared that thought with him.

  Then, instead said, “You’ll think of me. You might be able to run, Gabriel. But I’ll be with you. Everywhere. And always. Wherever in the world you go, you won’t be able to get me out of your mind. Or your heart.”

  As she swept from the room with a flair she suspected even Amanda would admire, she heard him mutter, “I may be an idiot. But I already figured that part out.”

  68

  “I thought Marines were supposed to be so fucking brave.”

  Gabe glanced down at the glowering teenager, who was straddling the black mountain bike he’d bought him two days ago at the Magic Spoke.

  “You’re not a foster brat anymore,” Gabe said mildly as he finished hooking up the Jeep to the back of the motor home. “You’re going to have to clean up your language. Make Charity proud.”

  “Fuck that.” If the kid’s eyes were as deadly as they looked, Gabe would be six feet under. You made her cry.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Decade. Century.

  “Don’t tell me, dude. Tell her.”

  “It’s better this way.” They were both studiously ignoring Shadow, who had dropped onto his back the minute Johnny had ridden up and was doing his wild, you-know-you-want-to-rub-my-belly wiggle.

  “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

  “What?” Startled by that question he hadn’t seen coming, Gabe looked up from the hitch. “Where did you get that idea?”

  “I heard you say you love her.”

  “That would mean you were eavesdropping.”

  “So sue me. Is it true? Or did you just tell her that to get in her pants?”

  “Christ.” Gabe stood up and wondered, not for the first time since he’d arrived in Shelter Bay, what he was doing to keep landing in these minefields. “First of all, show the lady the respect she deserves by not talking about her in such a crude way.”

  “I respect her. You, I’m not so sure about.”

  “Don’t feel like the Lone Ranger. And no, dammit, my leaving doesn’t have anything to do with you. Or your sister. You’re both great kids, she’s fucking lucky to have you in her life, and you’re all going to make one dynamite family.”

  “You just said fuck. And we need a dad.”

  “Maybe you do. But I’m not dad material.”

  “Says you.” It was a sneer.

  “Yeah. Says me.”

  The kid flinched, just a bit, at that, but showing himself to be the fighter Gabe had already seen him to be, he came out swinging again. “You’re making a big mistake.”

  “It won’t be my first one.”

  “Okay.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a manila envelope.

  Not quite trusting his surrender, Gabe took the envelope.

  “Wait till you’re out of town to open it,” Johnny said.

  Then, after bending down to give the dog the rub it had been begging for, he took off, pedaling furiously, toward the bridge leading back to town, taking a little bit more of Gabe’s heart with him.

  “Okay,” he said to the mutt. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  69

  “Men,” Sedona said as she placed the pink box on Charity’s kitchen counter. “You can’t live with them. And unfortunately you can’t shoot them.”

  “Not without me having to take you in,” Kara, who’d shown up right behind Sedona, agreed. After a moment’s deliberation, she plucked a red velvet cupcake from the box.

  “Maybe you could arrest him,” Sedona said. “For expired plates.”

  “His plates are current. I already checked that,” she admitted when Charity gave her a surprised look. “I was holding it back as a possible option. . . . Damn, this thing is going to go straight to my hips.”

  “Like you have to worry,” Sedona said. “How about speeding?”

  “That’s merely a ticketable offense. Unless he’s caught committing some other crime.”

  “There has to be something we can do.” Sedona bit into a lemon coconut cake, chewing with such relish Charity had the impression she was imagining biting off some vital part of Gabe’s anatomy. Of the three of them, Sedona was the most given to watching violent movies, which was ironic since she’d grown up on that commune with pacifist parents.

  After swallowing, she looked at Charity. “I don’t suppose you left anything in that motor home.”

  “No.” Nothing but some buttons and torn underwear, which she wasn’t quite prepared to share with even her closest friends.

  “Too bad. If you had, you could call in and report it stolen.”

  “That’d be an offense,” Kara said. “Filing a false police report.”

  “It’s a moot issue,” Charity said. “Since I wouldn’t do it.”

  After much deliberation, she selected a better-than-sex chocolate cupcake. Which she’d always thought lived up to its name. Until she’d had sex with Gabriel St. James.

  If he didn’t come back, she was probably destined to spend the rest of her life as a celibate. Because unless the military had done top secret experiments and cloned warrior Marines, there wasn’t another man on the planet who could make her feel the way Gabe did.

  And wasn’t that a fun prospect?

  He’d be back.

  She’d give him a week. Maybe two, Charity decided.

  Then she was going after him.

  70

  It didn’t take two weeks. Or even two days.

  Two hours after leaving Shelter Bay, Gabe pulled into a scenic turnout to take a long shot of the Shelter Bay lighthouse. Admittedly lighthouse photographs were a dime a dozen. Go to any royalty-free stock company’s Web site and you’d find hundreds taken by rank amateurs. Most were vacation shots, taken solely to capture a special time apart. A time worth remembering.

  Which was why he was taking this shot. To have one last memory of Charity Tiernan. Not that he’d ever forget her smile. Or her rain-forest eyes, her smooth hands, and the soft little sounds she made when they were making love.

  He snapped the photo just as the light, which had been guiding sailors into the harbor for two hundred years, flashed a brilliant yellow.

  He was getting back in the motor home when he saw the envelope he’d tossed on the dashboard. He’d been so caught up in thinking about her, reliving every moment of their time together, that he’d nearly forgotten all about it.

  He took out a penknife and slit the end.

  Unsurprisingly, it was a photo. But not one Gabe had seen on Johnny’s camera.
It was an eight-by-ten photo of Charity and him, taken unawares three days ago on a day’s outing at the beach. Continuing to show talent, Johnny had caught some great shots of Peanut jumping up into the air to catch a red Frisbee that was a bright contrast to the blue of the water, the silver sand, and the soft misty hue of the sky. There were others of Angel making sand castles, and a strangely poignant one of the sea beginning to wash the castle away, as if to show that, in the end, all things were fleeting.

  Including relationships, Gabe thought, as he looked at Charity laughing up at him, and him looking down at her with so much emotion in his eyes it was almost painful to see.

  But it was more than desire, or even love, which was also so obvious. It was amazement. Like a mortal man who’d somehow found a mermaid washed up on his beach. A mermaid who, rather than return to the sea, had chosen to stay and love him instead.

  He looked, he thought, exactly the way Cole had gazed at Kelli while they’d been dancing at the reception. In the photo the new bride had informed him during the dinner she’d cooked for Charity and him at her house, that she’d chosen for the cover of her wedding album.

  “Idiot.”

  If there was one thing all those years in war zones had taught Gabe, it was that lives were too brief, too fragile, and too fleeting, and the unpalatable fact was that most people died alone. And a helluva lot sooner than they thought.

  “Come on,” he said to the dog as he twisted the key in the ignition. “We’re going home.”

  Charity was sitting in one of the chairs on the porch when he drove up. She didn’t jump up and come running toward the motor home, like one of those love-struck women in shampoo commercials. But the fact that she didn’t go into the house and slam the door behind her was encouraging.

  Gabe took his time walking toward her, his brain madly scrambling to remember all the clever, contrite words he’d thought up on the drive back to town designed to worm his way back into her good graces.

  They were good words. And a clever plan. At least he’d hoped so. Because this was, hands down, the most important mission he’d ever been on in his life.