The Red Door Inn

by Liz Johnson

  He moved a stack of boxes to make room to sit in front of the black machine. As he scrolled a fresh sheet of paper into place, he closed his eyes and waited for the words to come. But they didn’t.

  He’d been afraid to trust again. The scars had been too deep for him to see how God could give him another shot at love. But he had, and Seth wouldn’t waste it. “God, I need your help. Don’t let me blow it again.”

  And then the words came in sharp, rhythmic beats against the page, each filling the sheet with his deepest hope. With every fading black line, he prayed that the typewriter would hold out. Just long enough to tell her the truth.

  He loved her.

  Dear M,

  I read in a book once about a man who wrote a letter of apology. And the girl took him back.

  I wish I had his words. But somehow I can’t find them. So I’ll give you the only ones I have.

  When I met Reece, I thought I’d met the woman I would marry. She was everything I’d ever hoped to find. And when she left me, I realized that everything about her had been a lie. She’d constructed a pretense so perfect that within weeks I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

  When you first arrived, I thought I was protecting Jack from the same fate by pushing you away. Except I couldn’t ignore how you cared about him. And when I realized that my feelings for you were beginning to resemble what I’d felt for Reece, I feared the same deception. I wanted to kiss you so much that day in the closet. But you were already finding a place in my life that I couldn’t imagine filling again.

  I was terrified. And I was angry with myself. I should have been the one to help Jack when he needed it. He’s my uncle, but because of my own stupidity, I don’t have a nickel to give him.

  At the first hint of what I thought to be a betrayal of my trust, I turned on you.

  I have been a fool and the worst kind of man. I should have protected you. Instead, I left you to fend for yourself because I was so caught up in the pain of my own memories and anger at my own mistakes.

  I don’t want to be that man. I want to be deserving of you.

  Will you let me try?

  Yours,

  S

  P.S. The frame is finished. Meet me at my spot? I’ll show it to you. I’ll be there until the sun goes down. I promise I’ll pay for the ice cream this time.

  Aretha smiled when her doorbell rang.

  She stood from the chair in front of her television, and Chapter jumped down, flicking her tail as if to say she wasn’t very happy about losing her seat. “Get used to it, girl.” She chuckled as she opened the door.

  Jack didn’t even wait to be welcomed in. He just stepped past her and began pacing the living room, scratching his head and mumbling to himself.

  “Please. Won’t you come in?”

  He looked up in confusion and promptly resumed his shuffled steps. “There’s something I need to say to you, Aretha Franklin.”

  She turned off the news that she’d been watching and sat on the edge of her seat, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt with flat palms. “What is it, Jack Sloane?”

  He pointed toward the Red Door, never stopping his pace. “We don’t just invite you over to bring us food.” His words were benign, but his voice shook, almost as if he were angry.

  “I know that. I volunteered to bring you meals.”

  “Right.” He stopped, clearly confused that they were already in agreement.

  “Right. So that’s one thing.”

  Now she was confused. “What is?”

  He pinched his eyes closed and rubbed his forehead, the lines around his mouth growing even deeper. “Here’s the other thing. It’s just that I’m not usually someone who likes to talk a lot.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  He shot her a look, and she stemmed her smile with pursed lips, thankful she’d just put on a touch of lipstick. She smoothed a hand over her hair, making sure the ends curled under just as they were supposed to.

  “I don’t usually talk so much. Don’t usually have that much on my mind. But ever since I met you, I can’t seem to stop. Between you and Marie, you’ve got me thinking about things and wondering what my life is supposed to be like. I only had a plan to get the inn open. Now that’s about to happen, and I don’t know what’s next. Running a bed-and-breakfast? I don’t have a clue about how to do that.”

  “Because it was Rose’s dream.”

  “Right. It was all her idea, and she would have loved the inn, but she’s gone. And I’m in that big house.”

  “You have Seth.” She shrugged. “And if he plays his cards right, you might have Marie too. Plus it’ll be full of visitors soon enough.”

  “That’s not enough.” He stopped pacing, his shoulders rising and falling, but his gaze level on her face.

  She sat up a little straighter, trying to breathe and pushing all the hopes that this man had stirred in her somewhere deep inside. She’d said her piece, and he’d taken his sweet time to think about it. It was time for him to step up or walk away.

  She’d been through that once, and she prayed that Jack was a better man than her husband had been.

  “The thing is, you’re alone too.”

  “Well, I have Chapter.”

  He dropped his head toward the gray tabby winding its way through his legs. “Right. A cat. But you don’t have anyone to talk with. Anyone to share ideas and laugh with. And truth is, we’ve been doing a lot of that these last couple months.”

  “That’s true. We have been.”

  He rubbed flat palms together before making fists. They were big hands. Strong and callused from years of manual labor. A mechanic who opened his own shop. Aged with spots and little white hairs at his knuckles, his hands were still capable.

  “Do you hear what I’m saying?”

  She shook her head, pulling back from an image of those hands holding hers, caressing her face. “I’m sorry. What is it that you’re trying to say?”

  He paced a little more. Sat in the chair opposite her. Stood again. Marched. Then sat back down.

  “I wasn’t this nervous at twenty-five.”

  His words surprised her, and she took pity on him. She pushed herself to her feet, stepped in front of him, and held out her hands. He grabbed them like a lifeline, squeezing until she smiled.

  “Jack, don’t be nervous. Just tell me what’s on your heart.”

  “You are.”

  She gasped. How was she supposed to respond to such a simple declaration? But she didn’t have to. He wasn’t done.

  “For as foolhardy as those kids can be, Seth and Marie have both asked me what I want. And I realized tonight that what I want most is a second chance at life. Didn’t even realize it until I was halfway in love with you. But I guess God knew what I needed.”

  “And Rose?”

  He put a hand over his heart and took a loud breath. “She’s always going to be here. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to be here.” He motioned back and forth between them with his finger. “I asked God to help me honor her, and I do that by living. You’re my answer to prayer.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and his face turned blurry. She reached out anyway, finding his cheek despite her temporary blindness. She smoothed a thumb over his wrinkles, and he leaned into her hand.

  “That’s the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me. I like being an answer to prayer.”

  “I like you.”

  She blinked, setting the tears in her eyes loose. As they ran down her cheeks, he leaned in, kissing them away. His lips were soft and warm, filling her heart with a need she’d thought long since forgotten.

  “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize what was right in front of me.”

  “I’ll stop.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Kiss me for real.”

  He met her condition with flying colors, pulling her close and sealing their deal in one easy motion
.

  Marie jumped as Ruby Holt poked her in the ribs. “Turn the page,” she whispered.

  This was becoming far too much of a habit, and if she didn’t start paying attention to the hymn singing, Ruby would take the book away. At least she hadn’t torn a page in the hymnal yet that morning. Which was quite a feat given the set of eyes that had been staring at the back of her head the entire service.

  At least it felt like he’d been staring.

  She’d have been staring if she were sitting behind him.

  As it was, the tingles going down her spine the entire service and the letter tucked into her pocket had been more than enough to distract her in her weekly hymnal-holding duties, and Caden’s little niece had learned nothing about patience and understanding since they first shared a pew nearly two months before.

  Marie had barely had a chance to read the letter after Seth slipped it in her hand as he passed her on the lawn beneath the giant tree dressed in purple leaves. No words, no explanation. Just a gentle smile, his hand on hers, and an envelope tucked into her fingers.

  She followed him with her gaze until he disappeared into the church behind Jack and Aretha, who were holding hands like they were on their way to the prom.

  She’d had to hurry to make it into her place on the Holt family pew before Father Chuck began the service. And when she sat down, Seth had sat directly behind her.

  It hadn’t taken more than a quick scan of the letter—typed out on the trusty Underwood—to know exactly what it meant. What Seth wanted.

  He wanted a second chance.

  All she wanted was a chance to think things through without the weight of his gaze on her shoulders.

  From his place at the front of the room, Father Chuck finished leading the hymn, and her duties were paused for a brief moment.

  “Before we close the service with one of my favorite hymns, I want to remind you of a wonderful promise from the book of Matthew, chapter seven, verse eleven. ‘If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!’ God isn’t a vending machine to ask for the things that we want. Rather, he gives us what is best. He works the things of this world for the good of those who love him. He’s the fountain of every blessing, the loving Father who longs to give us sweet gifts.

  “Turn in your hymnals to number 273 as we close the service.”

  She began flipping pages as fast as she could, automatically curling into the inevitable jab if she didn’t get there fast enough. At least the hymn had made it onto one page.

  The pianist hammered out a quick introduction, and the church took a collective breath before launching into the first lines. “Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing Thy grace.” The rest of the church continued on, but her voice fell silent. The first line rolled around in her mind over and over again until she could see the words on the backs of her eyelids. The fount of every blessing. Like the blessings fathers longed to give their daughters.

  Her entire life she’d only been able to see God as distant and uncaring. If he was her heavenly Father, he must be like Elliot Carrington.

  But what if he was like Jack Sloane? Intent on loving and blessing her, even when she had nothing to give him in return.

  She swept a glance down the row to Caden, who gave her a quick smile. And then there were Aretha and Jack, snuggled together sharing a hymnal across the aisle. And Seth, his rich tenor joining in the chorus that swelled until it seemed the sanctuary’s windowpanes would burst.

  All of the terrible times had brought her here. To the island she loved, the home she’d hoped for, the blessings of a family she’d always wanted.

  And a love she’d never expected.

  On the third verse, the pianist stomped his foot and pounded the keys, and she joined in as the words rang through the ceiling beams.

  “O to grace how great a debtor

  Daily I’m constrained to be!

  Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,

  Bind my wandering heart to Thee.”

  Her voice trailed off, tears coming to her eyes. She didn’t have a clue what a “fetter” was, but the goodness they sang about—she knew a thing or two about that. And it would keep her coming back to him over and over.

  24

  Marie forced herself to walk the path along the bay, wrinkling the paper in her hand as she strolled. It didn’t matter—she’d memorized every word in Seth’s letter by the fourth read, and she hadn’t stopped there.

  Like a confirmation of the good gifts God was pouring over her, the letter sealed her heart until it couldn’t contain any more. She had to talk with him. Tell him everything.

  Her pace picked up, feet pounding like they had the first time she’d run these boards. Except this time she wasn’t broken by her past. Her future stood before her, and if his note was any indication, Seth was going to be an important part of it.

  She crossed the street to the deserted beach, her steps slowing only to accommodate the give of the sand. But as she rounded the corner, eyes trained on Seth’s spot, her motion stopped. The jetty was empty.

  She looked at the envelope in her hands, then back at the rocks reaching into the clear blue water. He’d said his spot. He’d said he’d be there until dark. It was barely noon.

  She’d rushed to change out of her church clothes and run to meet him.

  And he wasn’t there.

  Tears tingled the corners of her eyes, but she rubbed them away, refusing to give in to the emotional letdown. White puffs dotted the sky’s blue expanse, and she followed a particularly fast one. “God, I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

  The sea-salt breeze carried her whisper to the heavens, but the rest of the world was silent save for the clapping waves and a stray seagull. She knelt on the sand, sat back on her heels, and bowed her head as the island’s lullaby rocked her back and forth.

  She could do nothing but wait for an answer.

  If God was the fount of every blessing, then he heard her needs, knew the breaking of her heart and the insecurities that still lingered in the shadows there. He wouldn’t leave her to face another disappointment alone, would he?

  He’d never stopped caring for her before. Real fathers never did.

  It brought a smile to her face as she rubbed her hands over her cheeks.

  “Gosh, you’re fast.”

  She whipped around at Seth’s voice, nearly falling into the sand, but he beat her to it, dropping down beside her, his long limbs splayed.

  “I’ve been chasing you since the Red Door. I was calling you, but you got to the fishing village and took off running.” He panted, staring up at the sky from his flat position. “You should definitely look into running in a race.”

  Her heart galloped and her mouth dropped open, but the only response she could manage was a loud hiccup.

  He jerked up, looking right into her eyes. “Hey. What’s wrong?” He wiped a sandy hand across the leg of his jeans before brushing a crooked finger under her eye where a tear had gotten loose. “Why are you crying?”

  “I’m not.”

  His smile grew with each moment, his eyes burning with something she couldn’t name, but it called to her. “You’re a bad liar. Especially when your perfect cheeks have tear tracks down them.”

  Her stomach swooped, and she had to look away, but he used that same finger to tilt her chin back up.

  His smile waned, the line of his mouth turning serious, but the fire in his eyes never dimmed. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth.

  You need to.

  She tried to shush the voice in her head, but it was right. She couldn’t deal in half truths and partial lies and expect to earn Seth’s trust. If she forgave him, she had to act like it.

  Taking a deep breath, she let it out in a deluge. “I was afraid you weren’t going to show up. When you weren
’t here, I was worried that you’d changed your mind or forgotten or . . . I don’t know.”

  He licked his lips, squinting at her like she was a piece of furniture up for auction. “You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t think I’ll ever forget about you. And I’m not going to change my mind.”

  She swallowed as the hand that had been cupping her ear traveled down her neck, his fingertips brushing into the hair at her nape. Fire shot through her, every nerve in flames, every extremity blazing.

  “Are you sure?” She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, and opened them just before continuing. “You heard what I said to my dad, right?”

  Anger flashed through his hazel eyes, and she leaned away. At least she tried to. But the tender hand under her chin held her still as compassion filled the crevices of his face. “I did.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “And I am so sorry. I can’t imagine how terrible that was—is.” His lips pinched tight for a moment, little lines forming around the corners. The cleft in his chin quivered for a moment, and he blinked hard, but he never looked away. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll support you however you need to deal with this.”

  Her pulse thrummed, especially under his palm at her neck. “It took me a week to leave my house afterward. And I was in counseling for two months after that. But none of that was as good for me as just being here. Learning to feel safe around a man.” And she did feel safe with him. Now.

  “I scared you at first, didn’t I?”

  “Maybe. A little.”

  He lifted his eyebrows.

  “All right. A lot.” She pushed his shoulder. “You’re just so big. But it’s not so bad when you have your arms around me.” Heat rushed up her neck.

  Oh, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  He chuckled. “I’m okay with that.” Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he tugged her against his chest, a wall of muscle beneath her head and the steady beats of his heart under her ear.

  It was easier to talk to him when she didn’t have to look into his eyes, and she let herself open up about the things that she’d never admitted to another soul. Some things she’d barely acknowledged to herself. “After everything that happened in Boston, I convinced myself that God was like my dad. It was easier to picture a God who didn’t hear my prayers than a God who had heard and let it happen anyway. I wanted to be angry. And I had this uncontrollable reminder of that night with every panic attack.”