Beach Haven

by T. I. Lowe

  When Lincoln came down with chicken pox in elementary school and wanted to do nothing but whine and scratch, his father had him scrubbing bathroom floors with a toothbrush. Said it would keep his son’s hands busy and his mind off the itch. At age sixteen, Lincoln wrecked his mom’s car and ended up with a broken wrist as a result. He thought the injury was punishment enough for running off the road and wrapping the car around a tree. His dad didn’t. As punishment, Lincoln wasn’t allowed pain meds to help alleviate the throb of the broken bone. Jefferson didn’t want his son to forget that being neglectful came with painful consequences. Lincoln hadn’t either.

  Never one to baby or offer sympathy, Jefferson had offered his son the customary icy reception when Lincoln came out of the first surgery that took place in a military hospital in Germany. Lincoln would rather have woken up to find no familiar faces than that of his father. Still woozy from anesthesia, he lay in recovery as his old man gave him a thorough dressing-down. He had a jagged memory of being told in so many words that if he’d been paying better attention and used the common sense God gave him, he could have avoided being in the line of fire. Lincoln didn’t argue, simply mumbled several yes, sirs while lying there in pain and embarrassment. The injury seemed to cause his dad more pain than it caused him, and that made for one long, agonizing recovery.

  Before his thoughts could settle on what had happened to drive him to Sunset Cove like a coward, the whimsical humming that had become a part of his daily life grew louder as the pixie wandered into the workroom.

  “We’ve been slammed today.” Opal smiled warmly and placed an order slip on the table in front of him, sending her armful of bracelets clattering together.

  Lincoln wasn’t in the know on fashion, but he suspected those gaudy bracelets really didn’t go with a pair of faded jean overalls and the trucker hat she was wearing.

  “Ain’t that a good thing?” Lincoln wiped his hands on a rag before picking up the paper. Skimming it, he found it to be an order for a set of church-pew chairs.

  “It’s a great thing,” Opal replied as she bent close to inspect the barstool top he was painting, the scent of honey wrapping around him.

  Lincoln inhaled greedily before setting the paper down and going back to work. “Do you already have a church pew we can cut down?” he asked as he dipped his brush into the bronze paint. He worked it over the black base coat and wiped off the excess, leaving a metallic sheen on the antique tractor seat.

  “Actually, my church had some flood damage during the storm and a few of the pews didn’t take kindly to the moisture.”

  “So is that a yes?” Lincoln flicked an impatient look toward her before redirecting his focus to the seat. He couldn’t understand why the woman always rambled on and on about something instead of giving him a clear answer.

  “We’ve gotta go see an elder of the church after work, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be willing to let me buy the damaged ones.” She picked up the other seat that was ready to be bolted to the wrought-iron bottom. “These things are heavy. Did the girls understand that when y’all discussed the stools?”

  Lincoln added a little more bronze to the edge. “Yes, but they said the tractor seats were sentimental to their dad. There’s really no way to make them into stools without using a heavy bottom too.”

  Opal used the seat to mimic a few bicep curls before she sat it down. “Okay. Oh, I meant to tell you a few more customers were going on and on about the store’s new layout. Kudos to you, sir.” She reached over and gave him a one-armed hug, sending even more of that sweet scent to engulf him.

  “Glad I could help,” Lincoln muttered, aching to return the embrace. Her comfort felt too nice, and he knew if he didn’t keep some distance from her touch, he’d likely end up clinging to her like a favorite stuffed animal. With that not being an option, he leaned away until her arm dropped from his shoulder.

  Opal tapped the seat top in front of him. “Even though they’re going to weigh a ton, the stools will be really neat. I’m sure Mr. Stevens will love them. It’s sweet of his daughters to want to surprise him with them. Just let me know when you’re done and I’ll have Tucker deliver them.”

  And there she went poking at his other sore spot again, shining a glaring light on his weakened state. “I think I can handle delivering a few stools,” he snapped. “I ain’t a total invalid.”

  Opal raised her palms. “Okay.” As she narrowed her green eyes at him, the bell chimed over the front door, saving him from whatever sweet snark she was formulating. “Do let me get that before you whack me with your cane.” Nope, she got it out anyway. Breezing out the door and toward the front, he heard her say under her breath, “Cranky ole man.”

  Lincoln grunted in response and tightened his grip on the paintbrush. Inhaling the lingering scent she left behind, he focused on the project. He’d been floundering since leaving the military, but the last two months had shown him some direction. Remodeling furniture and fashioning new unique pieces from old ones was quite appealing and he liked it. Problem was he didn’t think it was fair to Opal to have to put up with him.

  He was past his limit on managing his pain today. When he reached that point of agony, he couldn’t stand the sight of someone else. Luckily, it seemed all he had to do was bark a little in her direction and she would scurry out of the workroom and leave him alone. The quaint room with its shiplap walls and that large painting of the fairy herself was becoming his place of solace.

  Closing time came and went, but Lincoln was determined to finish what he’d started. By the time he completed applying the bronze finish to the seat and had the supplies put back in their designated spots, as well as straightening up the mess Opal had left scattered about, all the front lights were turned off and Opal walked back in. She held her hand out to give him what he was guessing to be another shell. The way that little routine of hers was going, come springtime he’d have a bigger collection of shells than the beach across the street. He automatically held his palm out to accept it and was confused when he peered down at the small packet of sugar she placed there instead.

  “What’s this for?” he asked, glancing between the packet and Opal.

  She shrugged her shoulder, looking timid for some reason. “You’ve been snapping at me all day in that sour tone of yours. Figured I did something to irritate you, so I thought I’d try to sweeten you up a little.” His mouth opened to respond but she continued. “Seriously, if I’ve bothered you or made you mad, I apologize.”

  Lincoln let out a pensive sigh, feeling right ashamed of himself for taking his aggravation out on Opal. She was always the target of his frustrations as of late, even when she didn’t instigate it. “I ain’t sore at you, Opal. My dang leg is killing me today . . .” He groaned and ran his hands through his hair. Releasing the long strands sent them swinging back into his face as he plopped down in his chair. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  Opal walked over and wedged herself between him and the table. “Your leg hurts because that bike ride to work is putting too much tension on your knee.”

  “Oh, so now you’re a doctor?” He heard the snarl in his tone, so he took a deep breath to push it away as he went to stand, but Opal wasn’t having it.

  She placed both hands on his shoulders and made it clear for him to stay in the chair when she moved closer to stand between his knees. “No, but I’ve talked to Dr. Rabin.”

  With his jaw nearly locked to hold back from yelling, Lincoln gritted out, “He ain’t supposed to be telling you anything about my leg.”

  Opal somehow moved even closer, her tiny nose almost pressed against his. “We didn’t talk about your leg. I asked him about this hypothetical ole grouch’s leg, and he answered hypothetically that the grouch needed to stay off the mountain bike.” She reached out and smoothed his hair away from his forehead, tucking strands behind his ears. “Linc, please don’t be stubborn when it comes to your leg.”

  He inhaled a shaky breath, feeling like the
invalid he swore he wasn’t. “I just want my leg to get better, stronger. It needs exercise, not all this sitting around. I’m growing weaker by the day.”

  “How about we figure out another, safer exercise for your leg?” Opal asked in a lower tone as her fingers kept working through his hair, the soothing motion calming him down.

  Lincoln was close to drooling. Licking his lips, he mumbled, “It’s not your problem to solve.”

  “What if I want it to be?” Opal’s question had his eyes opening to meet the vivid green of hers.

  “Why would you?”

  “You’re my friend.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  “You already agreed to as much.”

  “Yeah, and a friend wouldn’t treat you the way I have. You don’t deserve me taking my misery out on you. It’s just . . . sometimes the pain gets to be too much, like it’s tearing me apart and I can’t get past it.” Lincoln scanned the room before settling on her. “Opal . . .” He began to choke up, feeling like a complete loser. “Maybe it’s best I find work elsewhere. I really don’t want to take it out on you. I do try not to, but I end up doing it anyway.”

  Her hand stilled in his hair and then dropped to her side. “You think a little snark from big ole you is enough to scare me?” She scoffed. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”

  “It ain’t fair to you,” he gritted out.

  “You want to know what’s not fair to me? You not going to church with me. Now that really hurts my feelings. And you refusing to try my squid ice cream the other day. Almost had me in tears.” Opal rattled off more silly nonsense, trying to brush off all the heavy he just laid out there.

  Hurting too severely and too weak to deny Opal anything, Lincoln let her brush it off. He leveraged his hands against Opal’s tiny shoulders and gently moved her aside so he could stand and step away from the uncomfortable conversation. “Let’s go to church.”

  She clutched her chest and went all doe-eyed. “Be still, my little heart.”

  “Knock it off,” he said in a played-up grumpy voice, picking up his cane and waving it around for emphasis. “Or I’ll whack you.”

  Sure, he’d been kidding the day before about whacking the exasperating woman with his cane, but as Lincoln held it in a death grip while staring down at his dismantled bike, the teasing had disappeared right along with his front tire.

  Nostrils flaring, he limped back inside the store and was ready to breathe fire. “What’d you do to my bike? Where’s the tire?” he yelled and stomp-limped into her office.

  Opal didn’t even spare him a glance as she kept focusing on the computer screen. “I put the tire away for safekeeping, but no worries. My dad sent over one of his golf carts from the estate. You’re welcome to use it indefinitely.”

  Lincoln grabbed the back of her chair and twirled it around. Leaning forward, he gripped the armrests and leaned forward to deliver to her his best glower. From the nonchalant gaze she returned, his intimidation tactic failed as usual. His lips snarled back in preparation of him laying into her overmeddling, but she had the audacity to place her index finger against his lips to hush him.

  “Use the golf cart and stop being so stubborn.” She rolled back around and began shutting the computer down. “Go home and get your swimsuit. I’ll be there in about ten minutes to pick you up.”

  “Pick me up for what?”

  “Swimming is the safest exercise for your type of injury.”

  He bit back a sarcastic retort of her not being a doctor and said instead, “It’s too cold.”

  “The pool at the camp is heated. Carter gave me permission for you to go out there in the evenings.”

  Lincoln rubbed his jaw and squinted down at her. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

  “Why not?” One of her auburn eyebrows arched up. Seemed she already knew the answer by the slight smirk on her face.

  Lincoln was already struggling to come to terms with his feelings for the woman, and the idea of spending evenings alone with her at a pool in hardly any clothes would be a reckless move. By the challenging stare she was giving him, he was going to have to suck it up and endure it or face the embarrassment of admitting the truth that he found her attractive and didn’t trust himself enough to keep his hands to himself. Yep, not saying that out loud.

  Knowing there would be no winning the argument, Lincoln tossed his hands up in surrender. “Never mind.” Shaking his head, he turned and left through the back door, where he noticed for the first time the shiny blue golf cart. Sliding onto the seat, he headed in the direction of his rental. He wouldn’t ever admit it to Opal, but never riding that bike again was perfectly all right by him. He knew that was the cause of the escalating pain he was experiencing but was too stubborn to throw in the towel. Thankfully, Opal saved him from having to.

  A few hours later, Lincoln found himself fighting an entirely new type of battle. One he was sure he could win, but not really caring one way or the other. “Do it again, and I promise you’ll regret it,” he warned while keeping a firm grip on his gun.

  Eyes narrowed, his enemy slowly raised his high-powered weapon and took aim. “It’s a risk I’m willing to break.”

  Before Lincoln could blink, he’d been struck again. “Willing to take!” he yelled as he popped off several quick rounds of his water gun, hitting Zachary in the neck and the shoulder.

  The little boy cackled like a hyperventilating hyena as he tossed his empty water gun to the side and did a cannonball back into the pool, sending a mini wave to splash Lincoln. As soon as Zachary’s head popped out of the water, Lincoln made a lunge for him.

  “Come here, you little rascal!” Lincoln grabbed the kid up and slung him over his shoulder. After tickling Zachary until they were both out of breath, Lincoln handed him over to August. “I’m spent,” he declared, wading over to the steps and climbing out of the pool.

  “You ort to be. The two of you have been horsing around for at least an hour straight.” Carter tossed him a towel and retrieved another for Zachary. “Sure did hate that Opal couldn’t stick around and enjoy the pool too.”

  Lincoln kept drying off, ignoring his friend poking fun at him. As soon as he’d made it home, he’d called Carter and begged him to have Dominica need Opal for something or other and for the boys to go swimming with him. Lincoln knew he had played the coward card but knew it was also for the best.

  “You ain’t much of a friend if you have this outrageous pool and don’t allow her to use it already,” Lincoln fired back, hitching a thumb toward the lagoon with the waterfall. Pool wasn’t even close to describing what he’d just swum in.

  “It was just completed and hasn’t even gone through inspections yet.” Carter wrapped a dry towel around his nephew and sent him off to the cabana to change clothes. After the little guy was out of earshot, he moved a little closer to Lincoln and whispered, “You wanna tell me why you’re afraid to go swimming with Opal?”

  “I’m not afraid,” Lincoln lied, and by the lip twitch from his friend, Carter knew it too. “We already spend too much time together. I just needed some space.”

  “If you say so, man.” Carter walked off while letting out a chorus of clucks.

  Lincoln made quick work of changing into some dry clothes and headed to the front of the camp, where he thought the guys would be waiting to take him home. Of course they weren’t, but the redheaded sprite was. She sat in the idling van, ready to escort him home. He yanked the passenger door open and climbed in.

  “Next time I’ll drive myself,” he mumbled, fastening his seat belt.

  “Oh, Linc, you’re more than welcome. I was happy to set up the swim for you. And it’s my pleasure to drive you home this evening after you pretty much banned me from the pool.” Opal offered her sweet smile and batted her long eyelashes at him before putting the van into gear and rolling down the long driveway.

  There was no getting anything past the woman, and she sure didn’t mind calling him out on it
either. Crossing his arms, Lincoln muttered, “Thank you for setting this up. The swim actually didn’t hurt.”

  “But my company would have,” she said in a flat tone, eyes focused on the road.

  Lincoln didn’t know what to say, and Opal seemed to be in the same predicament for the very first time, so the ride home carried an awkward silence. Once she parked in his driveway, Lincoln rushed to gather his belongings so he could get out of the van and away from the awkwardness, but Opal stopped him.

  “Wait a sec. You owe me a favor.”

  He took his hand off the door handle and gave her a sidelong glance. “I do?” He owed her more than just a favor but was a little too prideful to admit it out loud.

  “Yes. Now roll your window down.”

  Lincoln opened his mouth to question her, but Opal held a palm up to hush him as she rolled her own window down. Pressing his lips together, he did as he was told.

  “Now, reach beside the seat and recline it as far back as it’ll go.” Opal had her seat laid back in a blink. She propped her short legs up on the dashboard and settled her arms over her head, appearing rather relaxed. “I’m waiting, Linc.”

  Sighing, he gave in to her request and did the same, minus propping his long legs up simply because there was not enough space for that. Tense, he held himself still and waited for her next instructions. When nothing came for several minutes, the echoes of the ocean waves just on the other side of his cottage caught his attention. Focusing on those sounds, the tension slowly began to fade until he gave in and closed his eyes.

  “Hold my hand, Linc,” Opal whispered, making his shoulders retighten.

  He rolled his head in her direction and found her tiny hand stretched toward him. “Why?”

  “It’s part of the favor. Just go with it, please.” She wiggled her fingers and when he did nothing but stare, she quipped, “You held my hand at Christmas, remember?”

  Yeah, he remembered. He couldn’t quit remembering. It felt too good. Too right. And it scared him, knowing she was becoming a lifeline for him and that she deserved better than a crippled grump with no ambition past surviving the day. Yet he was too weak to deny her, so he reached out and gathered her hand in his. And just like that, the goodness and rightness of Opal Gilbert overtook him. He didn’t ever want to let go.