Waves of Despair: Oyster Cove Series

by Jennifer Foor

  By Jennifer Foor

  Oyster Cove Book 3

  COPYRIGHT 2017 JMF PUBLISHING INC

  This book is a written act of fiction. Any places, characters, or similarities are purely coincidence. If certain places or characters are referenced it is for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This book is set in Chincoteague Virginia. Other places and names are created or changed for entertainment purposes only.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is not allowed to be offered for sale, discounted, or free on any sites than the author’s selected retailers. This book may only be distributed by Jennifer Foor, the owner and Author of this series ONLY. This author does not authorize sharing or reproducing for free sites. All copies reproduced or shared are violations of the copyright laws and subject to legal action.

  I owe a ton of thanks to my readers. Without you I wouldn’t be where I am in my life. You’ve helped me achieve dreams I never thought were reachable. I’m so grateful. From the bottom of my heart, and top and sides, thank you for the continued support.

  I’d also like to thank my family and friends for being my rock when I’m down, or cheering me on when I’m racing for a deadline.

  GOD IS GOOD

  This series is dear to my heart. As a young girl I remember camping every year on Chincoteague Island. Most people aren’t aware that I struggled with a relationship with my father since I became a teenager. These memories of camping take me back to a time when he was my hero. I cherish those times I got to spend with him, because we never know when someone will disappear from our lives.

  Years later we’re still visiting Chincoteague, my husband, and kids, dogs included. Each time we’re there I’m swept away by memories of the beautiful island and experiences I had there.

  The Assateague ponies have always been my most favorite things about vacationing in Virginia. When I was a teenager my father purchased two of them from the annual auction. He went to the hardware store and purchased plywood and other lumber, and then made a half-assed giant box in the bed of his pickup. We literally drove two hours home with a wild colt trying to kick himself free. Talk about a memory.

  While I can appreciate those memories growing up, the islands hold more significance now. I take in the beautiful nature of Assateague and appreciate that some things have been preserved the way God made them. Chincoteague Island is no different. The people are wonderful. It’s like going to a town from the fifties. Everyone knows you, AND THEY’RE KIND.

  Wouldn’t life be better if it was still this way everywhere?

  Obviously the purpose of writing this series is to share a beautiful place and a real family, with struggles, but yet hope at the end of the day. Thank you for taking a chance on this series.

  XOXO-J4

  Places referenced in this series:

  Chincoteague-Assateague-Island Creamery

  J&B Subs-Beulah Cemetery-Don’s Seafood

  The Crab Shack-Mr. Paul’s Place-

  Mr. Whippy’s Island Grocery-

  Tom’s Cove Campground

  Atlantic Shoals Surf Shop

  Chapter 1

  Weston

  She once called me a low-down-two-timing-scumbag who would never amount to anything. Brice Carpenter told me she wouldn’t date me if I were the last man on Chincoteague Island. In hindsight I can’t blame her. Partly because some of those accusations were undeniably true. In the past I’ve been what some would call a player. Living on the small island doesn’t leave much choice. By age fifteen I’d dated all the attractive girls in my school, and moved on to the easier ones.

  Learning how to love wouldn’t come easy for me, nor was it something I looked to experience. When I was old enough to begin wanting more out of a relationship, I was enveloped with grief. My heart had been shredded into tiny pieces when I lost my mother to cancer before I’d turned twenty. That tragic experience left me empty inside, and it took every amount of dignity that remained to pretend I was going to be okay with it. Contrary to what my friends would have assumed, I was never the same again. None of us were; my siblings all the same, our family damaged and forever burdened with a hole in our hearts that would never be filled. The void was a constant battle.

  We hurt. We withdrew, even from each other. Dad turned to the bottle because looking at what was left behind for him to manage would be too much to bear. It would take him years to consider moving on, and in that time we were all bitter and lost, especially me.

  Then came Brice.

  The person, who once loathed me, suddenly became the only one I wanted to spend time with. She was the only one I could express my feelings to, and it wasn’t easy. I was stubborn and posed a challenge she never had to devote her time to, especially since she knew exactly who I was, things I’d done, and where I was headed.

  Nowhere fast.

  Most of our friends graduated and left the island for bigger, more intellectual aspirations small town living can’t provide. Brice had been gone for years, medical school taking up the majority of her life. I’d only see her when she was off for breaks, and even then it wasn’t a cordial friendly reunion, not at first. Known for being a dick who never took the word no for an answer, she posed to be a constant reminder of the one person I could never have. She didn’t just play hard to get. She made it impossible.

  Brice was working part time on the docks of a marina, in charge of keeping the piers clear and refueling boats when needed.

  It happened to be the same place I found solace when everything felt like it was falling apart. I’d show up to be alone and she’d force a conversation, no matter how much I tried to avoid it - her. This beautiful, smart and charismatic woman was using reverse psychology, her college major, to help me cope with the loss of my dear mother. She knew I’d eventually take the bait, and she was right. I took it and never let go. Once I decided to open up it was an undeniable necessity.

  It wasn’t long until I figured out I could use her compassion for my own personal gain, while reaping the benefits of a new friendship. Taking advantage of her pity, a new relationship was forged, but not for the reason I assumed.

  We didn’t sit down and have sessions as one might do when seeing a professional shrink. For the most part I was her first patient. She wouldn’t have her degree for another several years, not that it stopped her from assessing my mental state and treating me as if I were her first complex case. She was professional, but compassionate. I honestly believed she cared for my well-being.

  The irony is, I don’t know where I’d be without her intervention. Brice made me a better person, who I am today as I stand before her, preparing to ask the biggest question of my life.

  Cobalt eyes stare into mine, glossed over while she grips the small wrapped box. “Is this what I think it is?” Brice questions.

  I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment, the precise day to catch her off guard. It’s a rare occasion for us to quarrel. We’re so in sync it’s sometimes scary. I want to think she was made for me, but I’ve never been the sappy type to believe in that sort of mumbo jumbo. The truth is, I worked hard to convince Brice to date me, and even after agreeing, she still held her guard up. Now four years into our physical relationship, but knowing each other for our entire lives, I’ve suddenly come to realize somewhere down our path of connecting our love has grown into something unbreakable. I know she’s everything I want. The ring she holds in this box only proves how ready I am to take the next step with her. I want to promis
e my heart to her, not that she needs the reminder. The old hard-ass I used to be may as well have retired. I’m still tough when I need to be, rough around the edges so I won’t hear shit from my brothers, but I’m patient and try to be understanding, because I know what I’m rewarded when I’m the man she wants.

  Brice obviously knows what’s in the box. Her tear-filled eyes display a desperate kind of hope. A gust of wind reminds me of the winter chill in the air, especially being this high up in the lighthouse. The park is closed because it’s the holidays, but being friends with everyone grants me the opportunity for this special private moment.

  She complained with every single step it took us to get to the top. This is the first place I brought her when she agreed to our first date. “Do you remember the first time I brought you here?”

  “Yeah. How could I forget? You’d been begging me for months.”

  A guffaw escapes me before I can continue. Back then it was a continuous battle. I wanted to be a hard-headed ass to get a rise, but also knew I had to tread lightly if I wanted a chance at something more with her. “I know you only agreed to it because you wanted to cut all my beach locks off.”

  “West, those were not locks. Your hair was a nappy nightmare.”

  “Still, that mess got me the date.” I’m still celebrating that achievement.

  “You’re the only man I know who brings a folding chair and a pair of scissors to the top of a lighthouse to impress a lady. I could have chopped it to hell.”

  “If I could trust you with my heart, I wasn’t at all worried about my hair. I knew it would grow back eventually, but the memories of that date won’t ever be forgotten.”

  “You’re lucky I knew how handsome you were under that mop.” She scratches the top of my head as she says it.

  To be honest, it should have been cut way before I let her do it. I’d been hearing shit from my brothers for a while, and only kept it because I knew how much they couldn’t stand it.

  “Don’t forget the lantern. I may have been desperate for a date, but I draw the line at accidental throat slitting.” I’d packed for the occasion, making sure the atmosphere was perfect.

  Instead of the laugh I assume will come, she rolls her eyes before looking back down at the box. “I never expected this. I know we’re serious. Living together means we’re ready to make the next step, but…”

  “You don’t even know what it is,” I kid.

  She seems embarrassed at the assumption and for a few seconds I let her ravel in curiosity. She’s gullible. I could tell her I brought her to this place to kill her and she’d probably believe me, at least for a few seconds. Quite often I have to check her scalp for random blonde hairs that may be the cause of her air headedness. It’s an ongoing joke we have between us.

  “I know you want to open it, so go ahead.”

  Quickly, I close the one open door to prevent the weather from ruining the moment. Her hands are shaking as I kneel down in front of her, confusing the lady I love even more. “You said it wasn’t a ring.”

  “Just open the damn box, woman. It’s snowing outside and this place isn’t exactly heated, but I needed everything to be perfect.”

  She rips the box open, her eyes lighting up with shock. It’s bigger than she would have probably expected, but she’s worth the extra money I had to finance. The expression on her face tells me she’s pleased. As my heartbeat begins to pick up, I suck in a deep breath and ask the question I’ve been practicing in my head for months. “You know you’re the one for me. You’re the only woman who made me fight for everything we have. I’ll never take you for granted. I love you and I want you to be my wife.”

  “I don’t know,” she starts. “This is the second offer I’ve gotten this week. I might have to think about it.”

  My face contorts as a rush of unnecessary jealousy hits. I know she’s playing around, but the thought still kicks me in the gut.

  “Sam asked for my hand a few days ago. I told him I had to think about it.” She snickers again as she confesses.

  Sam is in his eighties, and works at the marina. He’s a harmless old man who always tells me I better make an honest woman out of her before he snags her from me. “Figures. Hopefully you didn’t accept the offer yet.”

  She’s still staring at the ring, as if pulling it from the box will zap her with electricity. “It’s beautiful, West.” Her voice breaks when she says it. “I didn’t expect this.”

  “Why else would I bring you here after hours in a snow storm?”

  “To give me my Christmas present early in our special spot. I brought yours just in case.”

  “You did?” If there’s one thing my girlfriend can’t do, it’s keep a secret. She’s terrible with surprises. Last year she shook every gift under the tree and almost guessed all of them correctly. I was so annoyed I wrapped everything inside of bigger boxes, even weighing them down with household items to throw her off.

  “This wasn’t one of your gifts. I didn’t want to ask tomorrow when we’re with the whole crew.”

  “Do you already know what your gift is? Did someone tell you? Is this what provoked you popping the question?” When she asks she seems worried. I can’t understand why. Nothing forced me to want this.

  Leaving me confused, I offer the only explanation. “No. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Are you sure? You’re not asking me to marry you for any other reason?”

  “Maybe I’m wrong, but I thought love was a good enough reason. I mean, the sex is pretty awesome too, but it’s not necessarily a deal breaker either way. I’d still be asking you.”

  “Never mind.” She shoves me back and hands me the box. “Will you put it on me? I’m afraid I screwed up the first proposal. We’ll call that a practice run, okay?”

  While shaking my hands to appear as if I’ve erased the past several minutes, I stare into those tear-filled blue eyes and silently hope I can be the man she’ll always need. This time it’s my hands that shake. The anticipation has finally drenched me with a nervous sweat. I’m trying to make sense of all the emotions I’m struggling to contain. “I love you. It’s never been a reward. I’ll do anything for you, and for the family I know we’ll have one day. So, will you do me the honors of being my wife? Will you marry me?”

  The answer I get is not the one I expect. A simple yes or no is what I’m hoping for, yet as soon as my question leaves my lips she’s confessing something entirely consuming.

  “I’m pregnant, West.”

  Now, I’ve spent the past several years trying to get a grip on what it means to feel the kind of love I experience with this particular person. She hasn’t only helped me to overcome the loss and emptiness of losing my mother, but also how to appreciate what still remains in my life. There’s an unimaginable fear, as well as a inconceivable rush of excitement I can’t quite contain.

  Pregnant.

  The proposal is tossed to the side while I ingest this life-changing announcement. “How?” Understanding how stupid the question sounds, I reiterate. “I mean, how long have you known?”

  “Three weeks.” She leans back and takes something from her purse. It’s a small frame and inside is the picture of a recognizable sonogram photograph. “I was going to tell you as your surprise gift”

  I’m experiencing a momentary lapse of the ability to have an intelligent conversation. I feel like my tongue is being pulled out of my mouth as I stutter with every word. “How. How long? How far along are you?”

  “Eight or Nine weeks.”

  A rock hard, constricting lump forms in my throat. “Wow. You didn’t suspect?”

  “It’s the holidays. We’ve been busy.”

  “Busy?” I inquire. “Too busy to notice you missed a period or two?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t exactly write it down. When my boobs hurt I know it’s coming. In this instance they hurt for another reason. I just didn’t know the difference.”

  A fire ignites in my heart wh
en I imagine her carrying our child. This is more than an engagement now. It’s the beginning of our very own family. “You can’t say no now.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it.” She admits.

  Slipping the ring on her finger and seeing how perfectly it fits causes her to squeal.

  “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “I can. That’s why I did it here at the lighthouse. This place is ours. It’s where the magical moments happen.”

  “Magical moments?” She giggles. “I’ll admit our first time was amazing, but it wasn’t as cold. If you think I’m getting naked tonight on the top of this lighthouse you’re very mistaken.” Before finishing, she snickers. “Now, if we went home and got under the nice warm covers I’m sure we could make some fireworks.”

  “Fireworks?” I cackle. “I’m that good, huh?” I stand to keep my knees from giving out.

  She slaps my chest lightly. “Don’t flatter yourself, West. I was talking about my special abilities.”

  I laugh at her implication. “Special abilities, huh?”

  She shoves me until I’m back against a far wall, and then smashes her lips against mine. Brice doesn’t pull away until she’s sure she has my undivided attention. We break, my eyes focused completely on hers. “I think it’s a boy. We should name him Sundance.”

  “Never happening.” She pauses. “Wait, isn’t that a horse’s name?”

  “A trusty horse.”

  “I’ll marry you, Weston Wallace, but we’re not naming our child after a horse. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  Brice backs up pulling me along with her. “Come on. Let’s go home and celebrate.”

  “You sure you don’t want to have another unforgettable moment here?”

  “If the bridge freezes from the storm we’ll be screwed, West. As much as I love this gesture, I’d rather be safe than sorry. Do you want the mother of your unborn child to freeze to death on the day you asked for her hand?”