“Yeah, I’m okay now.”
“Then let’s go get something to eat,” he said. “I’m starving.”
He always was. Still, I nodded. The moment wasn’t right for what I wanted to say. Or maybe a small part of me was still afraid—afraid of being hurt again.
But being hurt is part of life. And you learn to rebuild.
New Orleans had taught me that. I figured there would be other storms…more rebuilding. The city would shift, reshape, and change, but the heart of it would remain the same.
With Brady holding my hand, we walked past some benches and said hey to the volunteers who were sitting there. Then we went down the stairs that led into the dining room. Jenna, Tank, Amber, and Sean waved at us from a cloth-covered table near a window.
Jenna and Tank—they were tighter than ever. Definitely in love. They were going to keep seeing each other when we got back to Houston. Jenna was going to apply to Rice, so she could go there next year after she graduated. And if Rice didn’t accept her—it had pretty tough academic requirements—well, there was another university in Houston and there were community colleges. They’d find a way to be together. I had a feeling Tank was it for Jenna. The real deal. Forever.
I wasn’t quite as sure about Amber and Sean, but then neither was she. She didn’t know if he was the college love that Sara had predicted. What she did know was that meeting Sean had shown her that Chad wasn’t the right one. And maybe Sean wasn’t, either. Time would tell. But I had a feeling there was someone else in Amber’s future.
After all, Sara had said Amber wouldn’t find love this summer.
Not that I believe in all that mumbo jumbo.
Well, okay, maybe I did a little. It was hard not to after everything that had happened. Even if I did believe we were in charge of our own destinies.
“Wow. They’ve got quite a spread,” Brady said.
And they did. Red crawfish—piled high on a platter and on Brady’s plate. Plus there was gumbo, étouffée, fried alligator, an assortment of shrimp and fish and chicken. I went with the fried shrimp and a bowl of étouffée.
We carried our plates and bowls over to the table where our friends were waiting.
“Sara’s over there doing readings,” Jenna said once Brady and I were settled. “Twenty dollars a pop. The money goes toward the rebuilding efforts.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Sara was in a corner with a large window behind her. The sun was setting and the river visible through the window almost glowed red.
She was also holding Ms. Wynder’s hand. I could see Sara talking, but of course she was too far away for me to hear what she was saying.
“Think she’s telling her that curly red hair is a permanent part of her future?” Jenna asked.
Watching and grinning, John was sitting beside Ms. Wynder. They were always together. Ms. Wynder had even stopped doing bed checks. I think maybe it was because she wasn’t always back in the dorm on time to make them. Not that I was going to tell my mom that. She might not let me come back next summer if she thought there was “craziness” going on.
But then how could there not be? This was New Orleans.
“Maybe,” I said.
“That wouldn’t be much of a prediction,” Amber said. “Ms. Wynder already told me that she’s going to organize a group to come back over winter break.”
“I think there is definitely something going on with those two,” I said.
“That is just so…I don’t know what it is.” Jenna sighed. “But I just don’t think of older people as falling in love.”
“She’s not that old,” I said.
“Still. She’s a…teacher.”
I laughed. “Teachers fall in love. I think it’s terrific. I just wish Sara had ended up with someone.”
“Do you think she’s seen him? Do you think she knows who he is?” Jenna asked.
We all looked at Sean. He was the one who had spent the most time with her—before Amber had come back.
“What are you looking at?” he asked.
“Did she ever say anything? About her future, about her falling in love?” I asked.
He cracked open a crab claw. “She’s married.”
I was sure my eyes grew as wide as Amber’s and Jenna’s. “What? But you and she—”
“Friends. That’s all. She’s fun. Interesting.”
“And her husband didn’t mind?” Jenna asked.
“He’s in the military, overseas.” He held up a hand. “But she sees him on their porch, playing with a little boy, and they don’t have kids yet, so—” He shrugged.
For the first time, I really, really, really hoped there was something to what she could see.
“So are we going to ask for another reading before we leave?” I asked.
“No way,” Amber said.
“Uh-uh,” Jenna emphasized. “From now on life is a surprise.”
“‘A box of chocolates,’” Amber quoted. “It’s the only way.”
On the top deck, a small jazz band—friends of John’s—was playing, and the music drifted down to us. It kept everything festive and fun. I was going to miss all this when we left.
I was going to miss Brady most of all.
We danced some, visited with the other volunteers, and said good-bye to the numerous friends we’d made. We all promised to keep in touch, but I didn’t know if we would. Maybe at first. But then we’d all get busy. And we’d all just become memories.
That’s what was going to happen with Brady.
It was our pact, our understanding, our agreement. We were together only as long as we were in New Orleans. And our time here was ticking away much faster than I wanted it to.
It was getting close to dawn as we stood on the top deck of the riverboat and watched the lights of New Orleans drift past. He’d had his arm around me a good part of the night.
But right now he was leaning forward, his elbows on the railing, his hands clasped, as the riverboat began heading back to the dock.
“So…I guess this is it,” he finally said. “The end of our arrangement.”
“About that…”
He turned his head around and met my gaze…and waited.
And waited.
While I tried to figure out if I was willing to risk having my heart broken again. Because I’d fallen for him—hard. And it could break—easily. And this time, it would hurt worse than before. So much worse. Hard to imagine, but I knew it was true.
“I was wondering…,” I began.
“Yeah?”
“You were really patient with me in the beginning, when I was so guy shy.”
He shrugged.
“Did the psychic see more than life is good?”
“Maybe.”
“Tell me.”
“What does it matter?”
“It doesn’t. I’m just curious.”
He sighed. “‘I see life is good, but I see hurt. You’re trying to rebuild something, but don’t build too fast or it’ll crumble.’ So I decided to go slow.”
“But you told me you didn’t believe in psychic stuff.”
“I don’t. But when I met you, I thought, why risk it?”
So he’d gone slow, and been patient, and been understanding. Maybe he’d thought he was rebuilding a house.
But he’d rebuilt my heart.
And maybe I’d helped, just a little, to rebuild his.
“I want to keep seeing you,” I blurted. “When we get home.”
A slow smile eased across his face. “Okay.”
That was all he said, but it was everything.
And then he was kissing me. And that was definitely everything. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my body against his. It felt so right. It all felt so incredibly right.
Brady drew back, kissed my nose, my chin, my forehead. Then he turned me around, put his arms around my waist, and held me close while we watched the sun easing over the horizon in the distance.
Sara had told me that she di
dn’t see how things would end for us. But the truth was that she had seen the ending. It was the very first thing she’d seen when she took my hand.
With Brady kissing my neck, I watched as the last of Saraphina’s predictions came true. That morning, the sunrise was indeed…spectacular.
It always is, when you’re in love.
Author’s Note
In June 2006, I went to New Orleans to sign books at the Romance Writers of America’s exhibition booth at the American Library Association Conference. According to numerous newspaper reports, it was the first conference held in New Orleans following the devastation of Katrina. We were welcomed with open arms.
Friday night, my husband and I ate dinner at Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Company. We were seated on the second floor. At another table was a large group of teenagers from out of town. They were laughing, cutting up, having a great time—after a long day of helping with the rebuilding efforts. While I didn’t talk to them, after they left, our waiter explained who they were and what they were doing.
They served as the inspiration for this story.
—Rachel Hawthorne
About the Author
RACHEL HAWTHORNE is the author of CARIBBEAN CRUISING, ISLAND GIRLS (AND BOYS), LOVE ON THE LIFTS, THRILL RIDE, THE BOYFRIEND LEAGUE, and SNOWED IN. She lives near Dallas, Texas, with her husband and two dogs—a Golden Retriever and a Chow mix. Before writing full-time, she was a programmer, but quickly discovered that creating stories was more fun than creating code. To learn more about Rachel and her books, visit her online at www.rachelhawthorne.net.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
ALSO BY RACHEL HAWTHORNE:
Caribbean Cruising
Island Girls (and Boys)
Love on the Lifts
Thrill Ride
The Boyfriend League
Snowed In
Credits
Cover art © 2008 by Sasha Illingworth
Cover design by Andrea Vandergrift
Copyright
LABOR OF LOVE. Copyright © 2008 by Jan Nowasky. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition JANUARY 2009 ISBN: 9780061973604
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