The Soldier's Promise

by Patricia Potter

  When we became friends, I thought perhaps I could come back, claim it and you and I could start some kind of business together. But deep down I always knew I couldn’t go back. That afternoon would always haunt me.

  But not for you. Make it a happy place again. It deserves it.

  “That answers a lot of questions,” Eve said quietly.

  “I think he didn’t want to burden me with the story if I didn’t decide to stay. So he told his attorney to give it to me only if I expressed interest in Covenant Falls and the cabin.”

  “And what do you want to do with the cabin now?” she asked cautiously.

  He took her hand in his. “I know of a certain ranch that could use a rocking-chair porch and maybe a few more things. Of course, it would be easier if I lived there.”

  “And if you did?”

  He grinned. “I thought maybe I would call my shrink at the military hospital, see if he knows another hard-ass who has no place to go. I seem to know of a cabin that’s coming available.”

  Eve got on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I like that. We’ll call it the Rainbow Cabin,” she said.

  He kissed her long and hard. “We forgot something,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I think I need Nick’s permission to court his mother.”

  “Heck, yes” came a voice from behind them.

  Josh turned and saw a beaming Nick. Josh picked him up, letting the temporary crutches fall to the ground.

  “Wow, this is so great,” Nick said.

  Yeah, wow. Josh held him tight with one arm and put the other around Eve.

  He had found his home.

  EPILOGUE

  Three months later

  IT HAD ALL started with a promise.

  And now he was making another one.

  Josh Manning stood before the flower-covered arch and waited for his bride.

  It was a glorious day for a wedding, and Lake Park was overflowing. It seemed everyone in Covenant Falls was there to celebrate.

  Nate had made the arch of flowers. Two hundred chairs had been borrowed from the community center. The first two rows had been reserved for Eve’s closest friends and family. Tom and his wife. Nate and his mother. Merry, and Maude, who had baked the wedding cake. Even Eve’s mother surprised everyone by coming.

  Those who couldn’t find chairs sprawled on the ground. Others brought their own lawn chairs.

  He looked over the mammoth crowd and wondered at his own transformation that allowed him to stand here, be the center of attention. It was one big, grand party, and therapeutic for a community still shocked that one of its officers had not only stolen from its best-liked citizens, but also kidnapped a child. Sam was awaiting trial in the county seat, and Al was a broken man. He had resigned from the council after a public apology.

  Eve had proposed a small wedding, but it had grown and grown and grown. The recently reelected mayor had so many friends they simply couldn’t decide who to exclude.

  It had been Nick who suggested the park. He was, after all, best man, and he took the role very seriously.

  Josh wondered if Dave wasn’t a mischievous angel arranging Josh’s universe. If he were, Josh wasn’t complaining. He hadn’t known what happiness was until the Covenant Falls mayor had sassed him in a weed-covered yard.

  The music started. It wasn’t the wedding march, but the rich tones of a harp. The song was an old Nat King Cole one: “When I Fall in Love.” Then Eve, escorted by her father-in-law, started down the aisle, and Josh had eyes for no one else. She wore a misty blue off-the-shoulder dress with a full skirt. A gardenia was woven into her hair, which had been fastened into a French twist. Stephanie was her only attendant.

  That she had chosen him was still amazing to him. A smile played around her lips and her wide hazel eyes were soft with emotion. For him. He still had a hard time believing it.

  She reached him, and her father-in-law gave Josh her hand. Her fingers curled around his, and she looked at him. The love in her eyes took his breath away.

  Reverend Stephen Carroll, a family friend of the Douglases for many years, as well as minister of the Covenant Presbyterian church, smiled at them, then started the ceremony.

  He heard himself say vows he never thought he would say. And when he placed a ring on Eve’s finger, he whispered, “I love you” before the familiar “with this ring, I do thee wed.”

  Kaylee Bradley sang “The Lord’s Prayer,” then finally he was allowed to kiss the bride.

  The kiss was long, so long that laughter came from the audience, and even then he didn’t want to let go.

  They were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Manning, and as they went down the aisle Josh didn’t let go of her hand.

  It was another hour before the last guest had wished them well. There was still the reception, but they stole away as quickly as they could. Jim and Abby were waiting next to a decorated car. Eve hugged Abby. “You know how much I loved Russ.”

  “Of course I do. He would be smiling today, Eve. Josh is a very good man. Jim and I liked him from day one. So did Tom. You and Nick are in good hands.”

  “I love you,” Eve said to Abby. “You, Jim and Nick are Russ’s greatest gifts to me.”

  Abby wiped a tear from her eye. “You’re going to ruin my makeup.”

  When they got in Josh’s Jeep, she kissed him again. “Thank you for inviting the town.”

  He grinned. “I realize I’m going to have to share you with it. I think that’s partly why I fell in love with you. That big heart.”

  * * *

  FIVE HOURS LATER, they snuggled together on the new sofa in his cabin, a bottle of champagne and the left-overs of a Maude-created steak dinner on the coffee table in front of them. Candles flickered throughout the room.

  “I’m going to miss this cabin,” Eve said.

  “Maybe we’ll have visiting privileges,” he replied, nuzzling her neck.

  “And maybe we’ll be as welcome as some of your visitors those first few days.”

  “Possible,” he said. “Probable, in truth. But he probably won’t have any more luck with that than I did.”

  “It’s odd,” he added. “I made Dave a promise I never thought I would have to keep. And it gave me you.”

  “Don’t forget four more dogs, a cat, two horses, a son, in-laws and an entire town. You’re a brave man, Mr. Manning.”

  God, but he loved her. Life would always be an adventure with her.

  Tomorrow he would move into her home. No, their home. But he did plan to add a rocking-chair porch. And an office. Next week, he and Nate would hang out their shingle as a construction company. The three of them—Eve, Nathan and himself—planned to promote Covenant Falls and bring in both businesses and people.

  He nuzzled her neck some more. “I think we should test the bed I bought for the new resident,” he said.

  “A supremely fine idea,” she agreed, and together they held hands as they went into the other room.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “Show me,” she teased.

  And he did.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A PLACE WITH BRIAR by Amber Leigh Williams.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  COLE SAVITT HAD MADE a deal with the devil. He did so willingly because the prize far outweighed the cost.

  That is, if the devil stuck to her end of the deal.

  The devil, in this case, happened to be his ex-wife. If the past three years had taught him anything, it was that Tiffany could be the most manipulative person he’d ever met. He didn’t at all like that his fate was in her hands—or that he’d been the one to lay it there all over again.

  But if she did stand by her end of the bargain, not only would his life be his own again, he would also no longer be barred from seeing his son.

  Though it had been months since he had seen six-year-old Gavin inside a courtroom as an unsympathetic judge gifted Tiffany with full custody, stripping Cole of any visitation rights, he didn’t need a picture to remember his son’s face. The young visage so like his own was stamped across his temporal lobe—memory of all that had been, all that there was, and reminder of what could be.

  The Fairhope pier was calm and deserted but for the early fishermen reclining in beach chairs. Their lines drooped over the railing into the shallow bay below. The only sounds that penetrated the peaceful lull of silence and the foggy gloom of the morning were the pelicans doing their far-from-graceful dive for breakfast and the heavy splash of crab nets hitting the water.

  The bells of buoys trilled over the quiet, and water lapped against the hulls of boats tethered off the restaurant that some clever individual had christened Yardarm. Part of Fairhope’s most enduring residential park, the pier had survived hurricane forces and modern industrialization. Along with the adjacent park and the scenic bluff that crested far atop the shoreline, it was an Eastern Shore trademark. One of Alabama’s best-kept secrets.

  As Cole sat drinking coffee inside the restaurant, his eyes didn’t stray to the seagulls that swooped into view, the pelicans dozing on isolated posts or the sailboats that well-to-do hobbyists had taken out early. His eyes were trained on the strip of land half a mile away, waiting for the clouds to part so he could get his first look at the target, a bayside bed-and-breakfast called Hanna’s Inn.

  Why Tiffany wanted to buy the place so badly was beyond Cole. He knew her family hailed from Fairhope and the coastal cities surrounding it. He also knew that her hard-hitting, real-estate tycoon father had done his best to get his hands on as much land along the Eastern Shore over the course of his business life—and Hanna’s Inn had always eluded him. The old man had bitten the dust three years ago, leaving Tiffany in control of his legacy.

  That her transformation from loving wife to manipulative bitch had occurred around the same time she came into family fortune and her own business didn’t strike Cole as a coincidence. Though looking back, he had to admit there’d been earlier signs of her ruthless ambition that he’d chosen to ignore at the time.

  The phone call from his ex-wife that had led him to Fairhope had come at an odd time. He hadn’t spoken to Tiffany since that day in court and had planned on putting as much distance between himself and Huntsville, where they had built their so-called life together, as he could. He expected the usual threats and criticism.

  Instead, Tiffany offered him an opportunity to make everything right. She apparently couldn’t get into Hanna’s Inn to do her own legwork without being recognized and blowing the sale altogether. She needed someone to do her dirty work for her by getting her a copy of the inn’s financial records. And who better than the ex-husband who had nothing to lose?

  The coffee on the table in front of him had gone cold and would’ve tasted as bitter as his mood if he’d taken another sip. Cole scooted the mug away from him. He had no love for Tiffany, and if she hadn’t offered him the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world, he would have refused her.

  There was no price too high that could make him walk away from this one chance to be with his son. Even if Tiffany wasn’t planning on upholding her end, he had to try.

  The fog and clouds started to break apart, letting the first golden rays of sunlight shine through and unveiling the sandy, green length of the Eastern Shore, one breathtaking sweep at a time. High on a grassy ridge, Hanna’s Inn rose like a waterside Tara, triumphant and glorious, distinctive among other houses around her with white wooden walls and tall columns gracing the bayside facade. It reminded Cole of a regal, antebellum bride from another era.

  It looked as charming as it was striking, one of many early twentieth-century dwellings that travelers came to admire along this shore. From a distance, it was all that its promotional brochure promised: a serene getaway. Forget the world, the glossy trifold had suggested.

  Weeks ago, he might have been tempted to do just that. Now he could only think of Gavin and what he had to do to get back his son.

  The waitress approached his table. When he glanced up, she asked, “More coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” he replied. “Just the check, please.” He reached for the billfold in his back pocket as she walked back to the counter. He paid for his meal, left a tip and checked his watch as he left Yardarm and began to walk the length of the pier.

  Nearly time for check-in.

  The air was soft with a briny tinge. Early summer weather this far south wasn’t quite as humid or heavy as he’d imagined, though if he lingered he would soon experience lower Alabama’s blistering clime.

  For now, the wind felt cool on his shaven face, a subtle hint of evening showers. A round fountain slumbered at the park entrance, its still, clear, blue pool and the coins at its base mirroring the sheen of the sun. The labyrinth of roses around it thrived. Their dewy, open petals trumpeted heady, passionate perfume.

  Trapping the sultry scent in his lungs, he strapped on his helmet and mounted his Harley. He gunned the machine to life. It roared into the quiet, turning the heads of the few people who’d come to admire the morning’s hushed splendor. He didn’t cast them much of a glance as he coaxed the bike up the towering slope onto South Mobile Street.

  The road wrapped around the Eastern Shore, stretching as far as Pelican Point, which joined the bay with another then reached for Fort Morgan and the cool waters of the blue-green Gulf beyond.

  However, he didn’t have nearly that far to go.

  A white clapboard sign marked the turn for Hanna’s Inn. He pulled into the gravel drive and parked in the shade of a magnolia tree. The wide, fragrant blossoms grinned down at him from limbs of glossy green leaves. The sweet, woodsy, quintessentially Southern scent he associated with childhood bliss...and home.

  His chest tightened, and he rolled his shoulder to ease the ready ache. Dwelling on home only made him hurt more.

  He tucked his helmet under his arm and left his sunglasses in place as he walked into the inn. The bells over the door jangled, and the homey scent of cinnamon tickled his nostrils.

  He scanned the empty lobby, admiring the long, painted aerial of old Fairhope spanning the opposite wall. The glass covering the painting was so clean he saw his reflection clearly. The sharp-cut jawline that framed a tan, narrow face; his hair dark and hanging straight. Black shades hid dark, tired eyes. Still, he could see the wear of travel around the wary crease above the bridge of his nose and the lines bracketing his mouth.

  He barely recognized himself and wondered if anyone else would at this point.

  “Mr. Savitt?”

  * * *

  THE SOUND OF the bells chiming from the entryway woke Briar Browning. She frowned at the first white strands of sunlight peering through her kitchen window. Raising her head from the tabletop where she’d dozed off hours ago, she winced as rigid neck muscles cried out in protest. Pressing a hand over the nape of her neck, she carefully rolled her head on her shoulders, leaning back against her chair and blinking around the room.

  One l
ook at the bills and bank statements spread across the table made her groan. She’d fallen asleep while doing the bookkeeping again. Now there was no time to prep for this week’s guest.

  Briar straightened and a sharp twinge cruised up her spine. The chair creaked as she pushed to her feet. Her arches were still sore from the day before, but she slipped them into the shoes she’d toed off under the table and ran her hands over her hair, hoping she looked at least half-decent in yesterday’s clothes. One look at her reflection in the window over the sink reassured her. She didn’t look as fresh as she would have liked, but she wasn’t going to scare anyone off.

  With her unawares, it had shaped up to be a glorious morning. The bay water was moody gray and choppy under a stiff breeze from the north. The north wind served as a relief to those on the Gulf Coast, buffering dangerous tropical weather.

  June marked the first month of hurricane season, and like all other business and home owners, Briar had already checked the inn generator and readied the storm shutters. If El Niño came knocking on Mobile Bay’s door, she had little to do except stockpile batteries, gasoline, canned goods and water. Then wait for it to be over.

  Hanna’s Inn had stood the test of weather and time for over thirty years. Unless any of the tropical waves roiling far out in the Atlantic turned into a storm of Frederic, Ivan or Katrina proportions, Hanna’s and Briar would ride it out like any other.

  The four guest suites were quiet on the second floor. Briar’s stomach knotted, the silence pressing against her eardrums. The local small-business economy had suffered hard over the past few years. She had hoped summer would lure tourists and revenue to the Eastern Shore as well as Hanna’s.

  It was June and the guest calendar still looked utterly vacant. The only name on the page was a single man’s. Cole Savitt. She rarely booked singles, this time of the year, especially. Fairhope, with its easy proximity to Alabama’s white-sand beaches, was the perfect place to bring a family or loved one for a cozy, Southern-style getaway. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem as if many people were getting away.