Mischief in Miracle Cove

by Mary Manners

  Delaney marveled at how well Tate fought back against the disease that tried so hard to break him. She knew Jake played a big part, helping to boost his spirits. The two did anything and everything to pass the time. Jake even brought football film, and they dissected each play like expert commentators. Delaney laughed when Tate came up with the idea to use a tissue roll as a microphone, decorating it with markers, construction paper that the nurses brought by, and a touch of glue. Jake sat in the bed beside Tate, both decked out in Titans gear, and together they offered up game highlights that would make ESPN proud.

  Quickly enough, the nurses figured they ought to enter the room with caution—they never knew what kind of sidesplitting pranks they might encounter. Now Tate slept, and Jake had gone for coffee. Delaney gazed out the hospital window, beyond the parking lot to the landing. Bradford pears were in full bloom, and the water danced clear and blue beneath a brilliant sun. Wisps of high clouds were ribbons floating in the sky, and she could almost hear the song of blue jays. Soon, she and Tate would leave the confines of the hospital room and head home to enjoy the late-spring air. Delaney could hardly wait for sunlight to kiss her cheeks once again. The very prospect filled her with renewed hope.

  Jake shuffled into the room holding two cups of coffee and a white pastry bag. The sweet aroma of chocolate mingled with vanilla, masking stuffy hospital odors. For a moment, Delaney almost forgot where she was.

  “Your feast, ma’am.” Jake’s smile chased away a chill. His boots whispered over tile, and she was glad to see the limp he’d suffered for several days following the harvest was completely gone. He slipped into a chair beside her. “I’ll let you have first choice of the confections.”

  “Thank you.” Delaney took the bag and peeked inside. “Yum, chocolate éclairs—my favorite.”

  “I know.” There wasn’t much they didn’t know about each other by now. Hours spent together in a hospital room had a way of doing that to people. Delaney especially loved the times Jake read to her from his devotional. Those quiet times resulted in reflection and a plethora of topics for conversation.

  “The éclair will tide you over for now,” Jake continued, “but you’ll need some real food later. Your mom will be by to stay with Tate while I take you to dinner on the landing.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Delaney drew an éclair from the bag and took a bite. She chewed, swallowed, sighed. “The spring concert series closes tonight, and the symphony is scheduled to play. It would be nice to hear a song or two.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Jake sipped his coffee. “I’ll make a reservation for a table on the water. The fresh air will do us both good.”

  “And soon Tate will be able to enjoy sweet spring air, too.”

  “I can’t wait for that.”

  The symphony played, filling the evening air with the rhythm of soft music. The sky was clear, and stars danced in cadence to the music, their display more brilliant than fireworks. A gentle breeze lifted Delaney’s hair, and she closed her eyes, sighing as she truly relaxed for the first time in weeks.

  Mom had brought a dress and sandals to the hospital, and Delaney had made a quick transformation in the visitor’s shower room. Jake seemed pleased with the outcome, and his smile had caused a flurry of butterflies to take flight in Delaney’s belly. For the first time since Tate was diagnosed, she felt like more than a mom and caregiver—she felt like a woman again.

  “Would you like a slice of chocolate cake or some peach cobbler?” Jake asked, drawing her back to the conversation. “No, thanks.” Delaney opened her eyes and shook her head slowly as the landing came back into focus. Jake looked so handsome in his khakis and a navy polo that brought out the deep blue of his eyes. It took her breath away. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  “The pasta was good,” Jake agreed. “And a nice change from our usual hospital fare.”

  “Dr. Garrison said if all continues to go well, he’s planning to release Tate to go home in a few days.”

  “That’s amazing news, Delaney.” Jake took her hand. “You’ll sleep so much better in your own bed, and so will he.”

  “You will, too.” She searched his eyes, reveling in how he’d barely left her side during the past month. He’d been her rock, and although the time together had been a blessing to her, Delaney knew he was also anxious to get back to a normal routine. “When do you have to report to training camp?”

  “I have a little time, Delaney. I’m not due to report until July.”

  “Do your hips still hurt?”

  “Not at all.” He patted them for emphasis. “I feel good as new.”

  “What happens next, Jake?” Delaney struggled to keep the quiver from her voice.

  “What do you mean?

  “What’s going to happen to us when Tate heads home and this trial is all over?” A tear slipped down her cheek. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. “You’ll go back to football, and I’ll go back to—”

  “Sweetheart.” He pressed his palm to her cheek. “The only thing I know for sure is that I’m going to love you—and Tate—for the rest of my life.”

  The breeze stilled like the slightest hush. Delaney’s pulse stuttered as Jake leaned in. His breath was warm against her cheek as he slipped a finger beneath her chin. “I love you, Delaney…with everything I have,” he murmured.

  “I love you, too.”

  Delaney sighed as his lips captured hers. The kiss, long promised, was everything she’d wished for.

  Epilogue

  SUNLIGHT SPILLED OVER THE FIELD as Delaney and Tate followed Jake onto the sideline of Alltel Stadium. The weather was unseasonably warm—high fifties on this early-February evening in Jacksonville. Delaney and Jake had spent the week sightseeing with Tate in tow and visiting with Jake’s mom and stepdad, who lived close by in Fernandina Beach. Delaney enjoyed getting to know them and felt like family after the first half-hour. Jake had to report for practice each day, but that still left plenty of time to scour the city—and the gulf shores. Tate loved combing the sand for shells.

  “Wow, look at all the people.” Tate scanned the crowd, his golden eyes wide with awe. “This is so cool, Jake. I can’t believe we’re really here.”

  “Believe it, buddy.” Jake high-fived him, and Delaney was positive she, too, must be glowing. Tate had celebrated his eighth birthday just a few weeks ago—a milestone she wasn’t sure he’d ever reach. “And I think all these people are here to see you.”

  “No way.” Tate’s grin widened. “You’re kidding me, Jake.”

  “Nope. Just look over there.” Jake pointed to a camera crew flanked by several photographers. “They’re motioning for us. They want to do that photo shoot for the Moments for Miracles campaign.”

  Delaney would be forever grateful to the organization that had brought her and Jake together—and saved Tate’s life.

  The miracle continued, as each of Tate’s follow-up visits offered nothing but good news. Her son was cancer free.

  “Then we’d better hurry.” Tate’s voice drew her back. “Come on, Jake.”

  “Hop up.” Jake hoisted Tate onto his shoulders, and they loped over—both decked out in special Titans jerseys and ball caps designed just for the Super Bowl. Jake was wearing cleats, and Tate the cowboy boots Jake had surprised him with for his birthday.

  “Come on, Mama.” Tate glanced back and urged her on. “You have to get in the picture, too.”

  Delaney struggled to hear over the roar of the crowd. The sound was deafening. How did the players ever decipher the quarterback’s calls? She smoothed her skirt and sweater as she neared the camera. This was something she’d have to get used to. Just like the diamond that sparkled on her finger, given to her by Jake a few days after Tate was released from the hospital, along with his promise of love. Come spring they’d be married.

  Delaney smiled as the diamond caught the stadium lights, refracting into a rainbow. She thought of God’s promise and thanked Him once more for the h
ealth of her son, and Jake’s precious gift of life.

  Enjoy this sneak peek at…

  Promises Renewed

  Chapter 1

  JACKSON REED SLID THE DOUBLE TURKEY and cheddar sandwich onto his plate, added a fistful of rippled potato chips, and hobbled into the living room, leaving his crutches behind. The metal pair gaped at him through the doorway, hideous annoyances that had stolen his dignity and pride. He’d walk without them again for good, starting right now, if it killed him.

  And it just might.

  His knee screamed with each step. Doc said the pain would ease with time, but grueling therapy sessions left him exhausted. He recalled his dad’s words from their phone conversation last night. “Buck up, Jack. Wrap your mind around the pain, work through it. You know the drill.”

  Yeah, he knew the drill, all right. Dad had ingrained the demanding work ethic into him from the age of six, when he’d suited up in pads and a helmet and stepped onto turf for the first time in West Knoxville’s peewee league. No whining, no complaining. Just get in there and get the job done.

  That mindset had taken him to the top—a full ride to the University of Tennessee followed by a lucrative NFL contract with the Jaguars. The money poured in and he rode a promising wave of fame.

  Until he blew out his right knee taking a late hit during the fourth quarter of a playoff game three months ago. Surgery followed, and his prognosis and NFL future were still up in the air.

  Jackson massaged the sore knee over a ridge of scar, willing it to heal faster. He should feel better by now.

  He bit off a chunk of the sandwich and punched a button on the remote to turn up the TV’s volume. Mid-day news blared from the flat screen in full surround sound. A familiar voice danced across the room. He glanced up and choked on a mouthful of sandwich.

  Brianna gazed at him, her eyes rich chocolate almonds set in a face like smooth cream. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, kissing her shoulders in a sassy blonde blunt cut. Her lips, perfectly glossed with a hint of color, just the way he liked them, moved to answer the announcer’s questions.

  “We’re raising money to fund programming at Thursday’s Child.” Her voice was a smooth melody. The slight southern cadence warmed him, and he imagined it worked magic on the viewing audience as well. “There are so many children who need a supervised, safe place to spend quality time. Our goal at Thursday’s Child is to get kids off the streets and into supervised activities where they can acquire skills that will enhance their quality of life.”

  “And you’re currently sponsoring an auction?” The announcer leaned closer. Jackson figured he was trying to cop a look at Brianna’s perky cleavage. His face burned, but he didn’t know why he found the idea so annoying, so...personally degrading.

  “Yes. But it’s not your typical auction. You see, we’ve elicited the help of a dozen eligible bachelors and bachelorettes in the Knoxville area who’ve each agreed to donate an evening’s date to his or her highest bidder.” A host of photos flashed across the screen. Jackson gasped. Brianna stared back at him from one of the featured snapshots, her dark eyes framed by naturally-lush lashes. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. “The auction opened just a few minutes ago, at noon. We encourage people to go online, to the Thursday’s Child website, to place their bids. The auction will close this Thursday at midnight and we’ll announce the lucky winners on Friday’s evening edition of Channel Ten News.”

  Jackson sprang from the chair and hobbled over to the coffee table. He barely felt the pain that sliced through his knee as he bent over an open laptop and punched in the Internet address of Thursday’s Child’s website that scrolled across the bottom of the TV screen. He kept his gaze glued to the TV as the website popped up. He couldn’t take his eyes off Brianna.

  “I’ll have to check my savings account.” The announcer grinned at Brianna and Jackson felt his gut twist. “A date with you is sure to be a real treat. Thank you for joining us.” The leach turned from Brianna to face the camera full on. “That was Brianna Caufield with Thursday’s Child. Back to you, Susan.”

  Jackson turned his attention to the webpage. He clicked on a link and quickly scanned the information posted. Brianna already had three bids, the highest a measly one-hundred dollars. He quickly jabbed a few buttons and sat back, satisfied.

  ****

  Brianna pushed back from the interview desk. She couldn’t get away from the announcer quick enough. What a creep. She prayed his piggy bank was on life support. She couldn’t imagine spending an evening in his company, even to benefit Thursday’s Child. She tugged the wireless microphone box Renee had tucked into the waistband of her linen pencil skirt and disentangled the clip from her blouse. “Did I do okay?”

  “You were awesome.” Renee took the microphone. “The pledges have already started pouring in. Take a look.”

  Brianna bent over the laptop Renee had propped open on the counter. The wireless connection streamed a live image of Thursday’s Child’s auction webpage. She gasped and tapped the screen.

  “What’s this?”

  Renee grinned. “Secret admirer, maybe?”

  “That’s a lot of money.” A five-thousand dollar bid topped the three that had already been placed in her name—by forty-nine hundred dollars. “What’s the guy’s name?”

  “Now, Brianna, you know that’s confidential until the announcement of the winners.” Renee winked and tucked a stray wisp of fiery red hair behind her ear. “The marketing department for the news team is remaining steadfastly silent. They won’t even give me a hint, so I guess you’ll just have to wait to find out like everybody else.”

  “Well...as long as it’s not the creepy announcer over there, I’m good with it.” Concerned for the safety of the participants, she’d been hesitant to buy into the auction idea at first. But Renee had promised a stringent screening process and Brianna trusted her. After all, they’d been best friends since their first day of college, when they shared a cramped dorm room at the University of Tennessee. “Someone with so much money to burn and a heart for our kids can’t be all that bad. Five thousand dollars will go a long way toward funding our summer programs, and that’s just one bid. Let’s keep an eye on things and see what happens.” She grabbed her purse and headed toward the door. “I’m going to take a quick run before I head back to the office to finish up some paperwork. You want to come?”

  “Not today. I’ve got to take care of a few errands. I’ll meet you back at the office later.”

  “Okay, later.”

  Brianna was glad for the solitude. Bradford pear trees were just coming into peak bloom along Cherokee Boulevard, and a host of birds chattered beneath brilliant sunshine. The air was warm and dry, the humidity low and perfect for a quick, mind-numbing run. She laced up her tennis shoes and tucked the Kia’s ignition key into the hidden pocket of her navy running shorts.

  She slipped easily into a rhythm along the quiet street. Mild spring air coaxed flowering shrubs and colorful bulbs to life. She wondered what it must be like to live in one of the massive, upscale houses that were nestled into meticulously landscaped lots the length of the boulevard. How must it feel to wake to such opulence each day? She wouldn’t know. Her job as co-director and senior counselor of the Thursday’s Child program left much to be desired in the form of monetary compensation for the many hours of blood, sweat, and tears she poured into the program. But the emotional rewards far exceeded what she could have ever imagined. She wouldn’t trade a moment of lost free time, not a drop of perspiration, for the smiles she saw on the kids’ faces and their excitement at hearing about a new rec league or art class.

  A vision of Jackson, tall and tan the way he’d looked when things were good between them...before the lure of money and fame changed him...popped into her mind, and she would have kicked herself if she hadn’t found the perfect stride, eased into a perfect pace. Back then he would have loved helping her at Thursday’s Child.

  In contrast, now he knew all
about what it was like to live in the lap of luxury. He owned a house in Jacksonville, on the bank of the Saint John’s River. She knew, because he’d been featured on a segment of Homes of the Rich and Famous last year.

  And he had a loft apartment overlooking the river in downtown Knoxville, too, for when he came home during the off season to visit his father. She imagined it was just as lavish, since his last NFL contract had brought in several million dollars plus endorsements for the past year alone. His contract negotiations were reported in the Knoxville papers and a highlight of local radio news.

  She wouldn’t know first-hand, though, since they hadn’t spoken in years.

  Six years, to be exact.

  Her breath caught at the thought of those final days they’d spent together, and she had to fight to maintain an even pace. She willed her arms to pump in an easy rhythm and kept her head up, gaze focused straight ahead. She still remembered the clean, woodsy smell of him when he held her close, the scent of cherry-flavored gum he chewed, and she wondered if he ever thought of her, or if he’d even care that today was the anniversary of her miscarriage...the day she’d lost her baby—their baby—six years ago. How could he? He didn’t know...she hadn’t told him she was pregnant. Oh, she’d wanted to, had every intention to.

  But for weeks he’d gushed with news of the draft, and the fact that he’d been picked up by the Jaguars, until finally he was set to leave in a only a few days to report to camp. She held her breath, hoping he’d ask her to go with him, though that wouldn’t have been a viable option anyway. But it would have been nice...would have made things just a bit better...had he asked.

  But he didn’t. So she kept the news of the baby to herself. Telling him would hold him here for all the wrong reasons. If he didn’t want her, how would he feel about being tied down by a baby, too?

  So she’d let him walk away, told him to go on with his life.