by Irene Hannon
Yeah, he did.
And more—including the reason she shied away from relationships.
If you didn’t care for people, you couldn’t get hurt. Letting anyone—or anything—get too close could lead to loss . . . and pain.
As Button’s demise today had affirmed.
Could the timing of that have been any worse?
If there had been any softening in Jeannette’s resolve to keep her distance from others, the kitten casualty would convince her to shore it up—unless he did some fast talking and offered a compelling argument for a different course.
“After hearing your story, I can understand why you want no involvements.” He watched her as he spoke.
She met his gaze straight on. “I hoped you would. That’s why I shared it with you. And please don’t try to convince me to change my mind. The life I’ve created works for me.”
“Does it make you happy?” He kept his manner conversational. Nonjudgmental.
“I’m . . . content.”
“In every way?”
She gave him a wary look. “What do you mean?”
“I can see why keeping people at arm’s length is safer for your heart—but it’s kind of like that old saying about boats. While they’re safe in harbors, that’s not what they’re built for. I think that’s true of the heart too. It can’t fully be alive without love.”
Her chin rose a fraction. “It can’t be broken, either.”
“But like a ship that never sails, a heart that’s never used isn’t living up to its potential. Especially one as caring and giving and loving as yours.”
Several beats passed, and when she spoke at last her tone was sad—but firm. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Logan. And I’m flattered. But I’ve thought this through long and hard—and I still choose loneliness over the risk of loss.”
He had no comeback for that.
With time—and tenacity—it was possible he could convince her to change her mind and give love another chance.
But perhaps that was selfish. Who was he to tell Jeannette how to live her life? After all she’d been through, after all the deliberation she’d given this, it was possible her choice was the best one for her.
Even if his instincts weren’t buying that.
“Can I say I’m disappointed?” He tried for a smile but only half succeeded.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should. And if you ever change your mind, I’ll be right next door. All you have to do is ring the bell.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Well . . .” He stood. What more was there to say? “I think I’ll take this home and heat it up later, after I take that walk on the beach.” He picked up the cinnamon roll and slid it back into the bag she’d left on the counter.
She followed him to the door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“I’m sure you will. It’s a small town.”
He turned toward her, intending to say a simple good-bye—but at the longing in her eyes, the breath jammed in his lungs.
Sweet heaven.
Did she have any idea what a powerful invitation she was sending?
Not likely, since it didn’t match her words.
Yet the unconscious message came straight from her heart.
And he couldn’t ignore it.
His fingers crimped the top of the bag.
Maybe they were never destined to be anything more than neighbors.
Maybe she’d stick by her decision to avoid relationships and remain forever in the solitary world she’d created, with only her lavender plants for company.
Maybe she was strong enough to make it through life without the light of love to brighten her days and guide her steps.
But why not leave her with a hint of what she was missing?
Without giving the left side of his brain a chance to kick in and dissuade him, Logan shifted the cinnamon roll aside, leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers.
Her sudden, indrawn breath told him she was surprised.
He’d expected that.
What he hadn’t expected was the sweet stirring of her mouth beneath his that told him she welcomed his kiss.
Jeannette might think she didn’t want love in her life, but her ardent response said otherwise.
And that was hopeful.
It was also very, very tempting.
The urge to continue the kiss, to pull her close and deepen it until there was no doubt in her mind how much she attracted him, was fierce.
But that would be a mistake.
If she wanted more, she had to be the one to initiate it.
After giving himself a few more seconds to memorize the feel of her mouth against his, he slowly pulled back.
She stared up at him, her fingers clamped around the edge of the door. As if she needed the support.
“Just a preview of what’s waiting next door if you ever change your mind.” He cleared the huskiness from his throat. “Good night, Jeannette.” He stroked a finger down her cheek, turned, and forced himself to walk away.
Only after he rounded the corner of the hedge and was out of sight of her house did he slow his pace—and try to convince his pulse to return to a normal rhythm.
Wow.
The lady knew how to kiss.
And he wanted more.
But he’d laid his cards on the table. Demonstrated the depth of his interest. The next move was up to her.
And if she never came around?
He exhaled.
Maybe someday he’d meet another woman with potential—but he had a feeling no one would ever live up to Jeannette.
For now, though, all he could do was give her time and space . . . and pray she would find the courage to put her fears to rest and take a chance on love.
22
She ought to be in church.
But she couldn’t face all those people today—not when she had to deal with a crowd later at tea.
For once, she’d have to visit with God here on Driftwood Beach.
Jeannette shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket as a gust of cool wind whipped past. It wasn’t the best day for a walk by the sea, after the fierce storm that had raged last night—both outside and in her heart—but with Logan picking up Molly from her sleepover this morning and going to church, she wouldn’t have to worry about running into the threesome from next door down here at this hour.
Slowing her pace, she assessed the ominous clouds massed on the horizon. There could be more stormy weather in store. Maybe she ought to ditch the walk and go home, take a nap. With all the lightning and thunder last night, she hadn’t clocked much shut-eye.
The storm wasn’t the main reason you couldn’t sleep, Jeannette.
Too true—and ignoring the root cause of her insomnia was as useless as trying to catch a mole crab.
That kiss was to blame for her tossing and turning.
No—that wasn’t quite accurate.
Her restlessness had been due to far more than a mere kiss—though there had been nothing mere about Logan’s potent lip-lock.
The real cause was the hibernating hopes and dreams and longings buried deep in her heart that her neighbor had stirred to life with that kiss.
And now that they were awake and clamoring for attention, what was she supposed to do with them?
Especially the longings, which were as unruly as Toby in his pre-Thomma days.
Jeannette kicked at a piece of driftwood.
This wasn’t fair.
She’d arrived at her decision to live a solitary existence after much reflection and prayer. Her life was exactly as she’d planned it. Until the past few weeks, there had been no one in it to cause her one iota of worry or agitation.
Now she had plenty of both.
Sighing, she scanned the dark clouds.
So what’s going on, God? You know I’m hanging on to my faith by a thread. Why are you making everything so hard? Why does life have to be so hard? Why is�
��
“Morning, Jeannette. You look as if you’re contemplating the mysteries of the universe on this beautiful day.”
She whirled around. Peered at the approaching figure.
Was that Charley ambling up the beach toward her?
Yeah, it was. No mistaking that distinctive ponytail or the Ducks cap.
What on earth was he doing in her neck of the woods?
She forced up the corners of her mouth as he drew near. “For a minute I thought you were an illusion. I rarely see anyone on this out-of-the-way beach.”
“I’ve been here often.”
“Why haven’t I ever run into you?”
“We must come at different times.” He gave her one of the trademark smiles that illuminated his face.
That was possible. And she didn’t get to the beach as much as she’d like to, anyway. The farm and tearoom took up most of her waking hours.
“It’s kind of strange our paths crossed today. I usually walk on brighter days. I was hoping the sun would come out if I ventured down here.”
“Sunny days are a treasure—but there’s beauty in storms too. Volatile weather offers boundless inspiration for my painting.” He swept a hand across the horizon. “Isn’t that a magnificent example of God’s handiwork?”
She didn’t try to hide her skepticism as she surveyed the angry dark clouds. “That must be your artist’s eye talking.”
“Also the human one. Shall we stroll?” He fell in beside her without waiting for an answer.
So much for her solo walk.
And maybe that was okay, given the unsettled state of her emotions. Charley always had a few thought-provoking observations to offer, and perhaps one of them would help her sort through her jumbled feelings.
“As for the beauty in storms”—he picked up the conversation without missing a beat—“I suppose you have to work harder to see it. Sunshine and blue skies get all the positive press.” After giving her a quick flash of his white teeth, he grew more serious. “But storms have amazing power. They can transform. Bring to the surface hidden treasures.” He bent and scooped a small object out of the sand. “Like this.”
She leaned close to inspect it. “Is that a key?”
“Yes. A very old one, by the look of it. Copper, I’d say, considering the lack of barnacles.” He angled it toward the light as he examined it. “It must have washed ashore in last night’s storm.”
“I wonder what it’s from?”
“A ship that was lost in a gale, I expect. It could have opened a sea chest . . . or the captain’s quarters . . . or some storage compartment below deck. Like the first mate’s private stash of rum.” He tilted his head, humor lurking in his dark eyes. “A sailor may have ‘borrowed’ it to pilfer a few sips on a long sea voyage and dropped it overboard to protect himself when he was about to be discovered.”
“You have a vivid imagination. No wonder you’re an artist.”
“Doesn’t take an artist to be open to possibilities.” He weighed the key in his hand. “Too bad this can’t talk. It would have some fascinating stories to tell.”
“Many of them sad, I bet. Life was hard in those days—and that key wound up stuck on the bottom of the ocean for who knows how long. Not the happiest ending.”
“But that wasn’t the ending. It may have been tossed about by turbulent waters, but now the tides have brought it to our shore and it’s getting a second chance at life.”
“Its original purpose is gone, though. That’s sad.”
“Perhaps it has a new purpose, yet to be discovered.”
The man definitely had a fanciful mind—and a boundless sense of optimism.
“If you say so.”
He didn’t respond—but after a couple more minutes of meandering along the hard-packed sand just past the surf line, he introduced a new topic. “I saw Logan and Molly going into Grace Christian this morning—and the Shabos passed me as they drove to St. Francis. I’d say we have some fine additions to our community in those two families.”
“I agree.” If that was a subtle attempt to find out why she hadn’t attended services today, he was out of luck. “But they all have a sad history.”
“That’s true. Sometimes it’s difficult to understand why God allows such tragedies to happen.”
Strange that he’d bring up the very subject she’d been pondering as he joined her.
“I hear you.”
“Yet good can come out of bad. Take the Shabos, for instance. Despite all their hardships, life may hold exceptional promise for them in this new country. Elisa will have opportunities she would never have had in her homeland—and who knows? She may end up contributing to the world in ways we could never foresee. The same with Thomma and Mariam. God has spared them for a reason.”
“You really believe that?”
“Without question. Don’t you?”
“I used to.” Back when she’d trusted in God’s design and accepted the bad along with the good—until the bad overwhelmed her. “These days, it’s harder.”
“Nothing important or worthwhile is ever easy. Like love.”
She gave him a sidelong glance.
Where had that come from?
“Are you speaking from experience?” As far as she knew, Charley had never been married.
“Absolutely. What would life be without love?”
“Are you thinking of someone in particular?” She went for the subtle route rather than asking him straight out if he’d had a wife.
He saw through her, of course.
“Very diplomatic.” He displayed his teeth again. “The answer is no. But I’ve loved many people. I also love my work—and all the creatures in God’s kingdom. That love sustains me.”
“But people—and creatures—die.” She tried to erase the image of Button’s limp form from her mind.
“Yet they live on in our hearts and remain with us in a very real sense. Plus, the absence of their physical presence doesn’t diminish the impact they have on our lives. On the contrary. It sometimes grows after they’re gone. That’s a wonderful gift . . . and legacy.”
He had a point—but it didn’t take away the hurt of loss.
“It’s not the same after they’re gone, though. Memories aren’t enough to chase away loneliness.”
“That’s true. So it’s best not to be alone.”
“You’re alone. By choice, I assume.”
“I may not have a wife, but I’m not alone. I have many friends in Hope Harbor who add joy to my days. I talk to them often, and I know if I ever need their help, they’ll be there for me. The presence of God is also very real in my life. And then there’s Floyd and Gladys—and my other animal friends who offer love and comfort in a different way.”
“None of that replaces people you’ve lost, though.”
“Loss is a very real part of the human condition, no question about it. Nothing on this earth lasts forever. Lives are filled with endings—and beginnings. No matter how hard we try to maintain the status quo, the world changes around us . . . and changes our world in the process.”
She couldn’t dispute that.
Especially in view of all that had happened to her world in the past few weeks.
She fisted her hands in her pockets.
“And sometimes, while we might only recognize it in hindsight, changes that shake up our world can be positive.” Charley stopped.
She did too—and turned to study the kindly eyes in the weathered, bronzed face. “Why do you always seem to have your act together?”
His smile was gentle. “Because it’s not an act. I take life a day at a time, always staying true to who I am. While I appreciate my past, I live in the present and look forward to the future. I also fill my days with love, which is the great stabilizer.”
“Except love can be snatched away from you.”
As the words spilled out of her mouth, Jeannette frowned.
Why had she said that? It could provoke questions—and nice as he was
, she wasn’t about to share her story with Charley, as she had with Logan.
He didn’t probe—suggesting he’d sensed her unwillingness to expound.
“Losing love is one of life’s most difficult trials.” For once, his usual smile was absent, and his dark brown irises were soft with compassion. “But wouldn’t it have been worse never to have had it? Tennyson was a wise man.”
Strange that she’d been thinking about that very same poetic passage not long ago.
“I’m not sure he was right about that particular subject.” She shoved her hands deeper in her pockets.
“Ah—but think how much you would have missed if you’d never known love. How different your life would be.”
He had a point. Much as she pined for her family, they’d enriched her world beyond measure. And they continued to do that, as Charley had said. To never have had them in her life at all was unimaginable.
But the loss had been devastating—and the notion of letting her guard down, allowing other people in, and risking more loss was paralyzing, despite Charley’s pep talk.
Yet ruling out love also ruled out the potential for abundant joy—including the kind Logan might add to her life if she opened that door.
And based on last night’s kiss, the man would be more than willing to test the waters if she gave him any encouragement.
“Are you still with me, Jeannette?” Amusement underscored Charley’s friendly tease.
“Sorry. I zoned out for a minute. Everything you said makes sense—in theory.”
“In practice too.” He adjusted the brim of his cap and motioned toward a mottled silver-white harbor seal sunning itself on a rock offshore. “I see Casper has joined us.”
Her lips twitched as the seal let out a loud belch. “Another friend of yours?”
“We’re acquainted.” He turned back to her. “I’ll offer one other thought. God’s timing isn’t always ours. Sometimes he opens doors we aren’t certain we’re ready to walk through. And it’s fine to be cautious. Not every door that beckons is divinely inspired. But at some point we do have to make a decision—because most don’t stay open forever.” He pressed the storm-tossed key into her hand. “A souvenir of the walk we shared.”