Beach Haven

by T. I. Lowe

  It took longer this time for the tension to wane, but eventually it did, leaving Lincoln free to savor Opal’s touch and the tranquil melody of the ocean.

  “Isn’t the sound of the ocean the sweetest lullaby ever composed?” Opal released a delicate sigh, one filled with peaceful contentment.

  “Yeah,” Lincoln managed just over a whisper, only agreeing because her sweet voice added the perfect layer of harmony to it. His body was spent from swimming and was too tired to keep his guard up, so he began synchronizing his breaths to the ocean’s tune. In . . . Out . . . So soothing, it lulled him into a light doze.

  Snuggling against the seat, he lifted their entwined hands and held them to his cheek, relishing the comfort of her soft skin. Releasing a contented sigh, he pressed his lips against the back of Opal’s hand. Realizing what he’d done, his eyes flew open and locked with hers. There was no shock of horror on her face, only a faint smile, so he gave in and placed several more kisses on her hand before slowly letting it go.

  “See, Linc, my company didn’t hurt,” Opal whispered.

  The squeeze of his heart begged to differ, but he conceded with a subtle nod. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Lincoln reached for the lever and sent his seat upright.

  Opal did the same and then plundered in her bag for a few beats before handing him a shell.

  “What’s the wish with this one?” he asked, eyeing the tiny hermit crab shell.

  “That you would let me in.” She waited until he met her eyes to speak again. “I promise you it won’t be as painful as you think.”

  And that was where Opal Gilbert was wrong. Lincoln had barely survived that bombing attack and was still bleeding out from the wounds he’d helped to inflict on his family before escaping to Sunset Cove. If he accepted Opal’s love only to turn around and lose it when she realized he was no good for her, it would finish destroying him.

  “You deserve better.” Shaking his head to whatever she was about to follow that comment with, Lincoln closed the van door and made his way up the porch and on inside the house. He paused there long enough to drop the shell inside the bench by the door where all the other wishes were being held for safekeeping. Looking at the plunder, he really did wish her prayers would be answered on his behalf.

  12

  There was nothing more magical than late nights on the beach. With the ocean crooning its secrets to the moon and the sandy shore, Opal always felt like she was in a private world where nothing was impossible. Never a cynic, she loved to get carried away in the breezy romance the night ambience promised to deliver, but she was beginning to worry that Sophia had started to rub off on her. The star-studded night sky, the indigo ocean with its whitecaps, the moon bleaching out the sand . . . it all had somehow grown dull and less mysterious as of late.

  “We’re all wrapped up, looking like gifts waiting for Christmas morning,” Josie said on a snicker before taking a sip from her thermos.

  It was the Sand Queens’ monthly meeting with the beach, but the chilly night was making it a tad uncomfortable.

  “Yeah. And most would call us silly for being bundled up so tight. It’s only in the fifties,” Sophia scoffed as she wrapped the scarf another loop around her neck.

  “Our Southern bones don’t come insulated enough for temperatures under sixty,” Josie chimed back in.

  Opal simply nodded, not caring to add any commentary. In the last week, she’d grown more silent than she’d ever been. It was Lincoln’s fault. The man’s hot-to-cold, tender-to-prickly attitude left her totally perplexed and at a loss on how to respond.

  “Where’d you get that hat, Opal?” Sophia asked, drawing her attention momentarily away from thoughts of Lincoln and his twitchy cold shoulder.

  “I found it in some of Bubba’s hunting gear he left at the house.” Opal tugged the camouflage hat by the ear flaps down further on her head. It was frumpy but was doing a great job keeping her head nice and warm.

  “Oh, I didn’t know if you maybe snatched it from Lincoln.” Sophia shrugged.

  Opal might have been preoccupied with her confusing thoughts on the man but wasn’t too far gone to not realize the teasing lilt in her friend’s voice.

  “Linc’s not a sharing kind of guy, and we aren’t on friendly enough terms for me to be snatching anything from him.” Opal gave Sophia a pointed look, conveying that she wanted to drop it.

  “He’s mighty cute,” Josie offered, unaware of the look.

  Sophia snorted. “Cute is not the right word to describe that beast of a man.”

  “More like devilishly good looks with enough razor-sharp edges to flash a warning,” Opal added before she could stop herself.

  “What’s going on with the two of you?” Josie asked while wrapping the wool blanket over her head and shoulders, clutching it under her chin.

  “I haven’t a clue. He seemed to soften up a little at the wedding but has gone back to being prickly ever since.”

  “Have you confronted him about it?” Sophia asked, always the one to go for being up-front on matters.

  “Sort of . . .”

  “That’s not good enough. You need to be clear. Men don’t get subtle hints and offhand comments from women. We might as well be talking like the teacher from Charlie Brown, because that’s all they hear.” Sophia crossed her arms and huffed out a cloudy breath before mimicking the wanh, wanh, wanh, wanh.

  “Yeah? And how’s being clear and up-front working out for you with Ty?” As soon as Opal said it, she wished she could suck the retort back in.

  The party she’d attended last weekend with Josie up in Charlotte flashed through her thoughts and had Opal cringing even more. Sophia had begged them to go to show their support to Ty and his team, but they had really only made the trek to support Sophia. And by the looks of things, Opal was glad they did.

  The night of the party had been tense with Ty spending the evening with one woman or another trying to wrap themselves around him like an overzealous monkey. It was all Opal could do not to march up to the women and give them a lecture on having some decency and respect for themselves. Her palm itched to smack Ty upside the head for allowing it.

  Opal sighed. “Sophia, I was just popping off at the mouth. I’m sorry, girl.”

  “No. You’re absolutely right. Ty is a perfect example. I’ve tried to be subtle with him, and look where it’s gotten me.” Sophia’s gloved hands flailed around in the air, her cheeks growing even more rosy.

  Josie squeezed Opal’s shoulder. “I’m with Sophia on this one. Let Lincoln know how you feel.”

  “What if I don’t even know how I feel?” Opal gave her friend a wobbly smile before brushing her situation off and focusing on Sophia. “So things haven’t improved?”

  “We’re seeing a marriage counselor, but it seems like we’re going nowhere with it.”

  Sophia and Ty had been trying to reconcile for the better part of the last year. Opal hated to admit it out loud, but it seemed her friend’s assessment might be correct.

  The three friends sat out on the cold beach for a while longer, allowing Sophia to vent, until their thermoses of hot chocolate were drained dry and their bodies were chilled to the bone.

  After a hot shower to warm up, Opal climbed into bed with her thoughts on the brooding soldier. Each time she thought about him suggesting he should find another job, her heart squeezed and she could hardly swallow. She’d allowed Lincoln Cole to become a part of her business plan for Bless This Mess without much thought. The idea just fit. And even though she fought long and hard against it, he ended up being a part of her life plan as well. The thought of him not being there was unfathomable, so she tamped it down the best she could by trying to focus on her next furniture project until she finally drifted off to sleep.

  The break on Sunday from Lincoln did very little in making Opal feel any more enthusiastic about their situation. Trepidation was more like it, and that dreadful feeling followed her all the way to work Monday morning.

  Wit
h the doors closed to the public, Mondays were dedicated to working on custom orders. The day was cold and rainy and had the mostly mute pair stuck inside together with the awkward tension making it even more uncomfortable. Lincoln spent the better part of the day playing dodge Opal. Each time she’d get near, he seemed to find a reason to limp off in the other direction.

  “Do you even know how to grow a sit?” Opal asked in a snippy tone, tired of their game of chase that she’d found herself playing unwillingly.

  Lincoln glanced over his shoulder briefly before going back to rummaging around in a drawer. “What are you whining about?”

  “You’re always moving here, there, and yonder today. Seriously, it wouldn’t hurt you to get still somewhere.” She glared at his broad back before focusing on taking the hardware off the old doors she planned to turn into tabletops.

  “If I stop moving, my leg starts throbbing like a toothache,” Lincoln explained with a good bit of annoyance.

  “And whose fault is that?” She gave him no time to answer before plowing on. “Yours. If you’d stop skipping doctor’s appointments and actually do as you’re told, that leg wouldn’t be in the shape it’s in.”

  Her scolding words had him swinging around, red-faced. “My leg wouldn’t be in this shape if that enemy fire didn’t rip into it.” Lincoln nearly growled the words.

  “Do you have PTSD?”

  “No. I have PO’D.” He stood there, clenching his fists, a severe-looking scowl on his face.

  Opal blinked slowly until his meaning registered. He definitely had a lot of pent-up anger.

  Working as closely as they did, she’d learned in the last few months how to pay attention to his mannerisms and what they revealed. Her favorite was when she’d catch him staring at her with his handsome face tilted just a little to the side as if to admire her better. How he twisted his lips one way and then the other while working on a furniture piece. But there were days such as today when his mannerisms sent out a warning to proceed with caution. His rich-brown eyes narrowed until forming creases at the corners. The firm press of his full lips. The continuous flexing of his jaw.

  Aware that the fuming man needed some space, Opal left him with the unfinished doors and chose to tackle some paperwork in her office. All the while she heard him muttering to himself and slamming things around in the back.

  Closing her eyes and leaning back in the chair, Opal took a moment to try to calm down. It was beyond frustrating that Lincoln chose to wear misery and pain as if it were his cross to bear, deliberately brushing off the doctor’s advice on how to take care of his leg and ways to manage the pain. The question was why? She had no clue because the stubborn man refused to open up. And she was frustrated with herself because she had no idea how to get him to confide in her. Keeping whatever it was bottled inside was just as unhealthy as his injury. Along with that misery, it seemed his broad shoulders were carrying around a considerable weight of guilt. Yet another mystery to Corporal Lincoln Cole.

  Opal decided to take the girls’ advice and be up-front with him. She procrastinated a little longer until the noise in the workroom died down. Rising from the desk and taking a fortifying breath, she swiped a small trinket box and carried it with her.

  “I’ve taken all the hardware off the doors and stripped the first coat of paint off them,” Lincoln said as soon as she entered the room. He was using a wire brush to clean the rust on the hinges he’d spread out along his worktable. A task she was supposed to do, but he was finishing it for her as maybe an apology, something he often did after one of his tantrums.

  Opal walked over and placed the box in the middle of the table. His eyes automatically drew to it. “This used to be a plain old desk clock. The kind you wind up. I found it on one of my junking trips, but the clock hands no longer worked. I took it apart trying to figure out how to fix it, but days later—after I accidentally broke the long hand in two—I knew it was time for the clock to become something new.” She flicked the tiny clasp up and opened the clock face, which had been fashioned into the lid for the trinket box. “Telling time was an important job, but eventually it needed to be restored for a different purpose.” She held out the box and allowed Lincoln to peep inside, where she’d tucked sentimental items—several photos of her family and the Sand Queens, her grandmother’s locket, a pendant her father received after winning his first election, and the first penny the store’s register ever held.

  He cut her a sidelong glance and scoffed, apparently unimpressed. “Do you really think God took me out of the military to tinker with weird furniture?”

  “You and I both know it’s more than that.” Opal closed the lid of the box and walked it back to her office with Lincoln heavy on her heels. She made note of the heavier limp his gait held. It was another mannerism she closely observed most days to help gauge his pain.

  “What else is it about then?” He raked his hands through his hair, gathering the locks in a ball before releasing the curtain back to hide his cheekbones. They were one of Opal’s favorite features of his face, probably because he was so stingy with sharing them.

  Opal crossed her arms and planted a hip on the side of her desk. “You have no guess? No idea why there’s so much tension between us?” She watched him closely and saw it in the depths of his rich-brown eyes and wondered if he’d ever fully understand she’d find his truths there every time. Sure, he was in constant pain, but there was more to the strained atmosphere than that. He’d even expressed it twice—holding her hand at Christmas and then kissing the back of her hand the other night in the van. He wasn’t oblivious about it, but boy, was he stubborn.

  Lincoln took a step forward, towering over her. His mouth opened a few times but hinged back shut when it seemed he couldn’t articulate whatever it was trapped on the tip of his tongue.

  “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I was perfectly fine before you stormed into my life. I had a business plan that needed to be accomplished, one that would rightfully earn me my independence. I certainly didn’t have time for distractions.” Opal circled a hand between them. “But maybe God knew I needed you. And maybe you needed me.”

  “Seriously?” He barely managed gritting out the one word between working the muscle in his jaw. “Blowing most of my leg off to bring me to you?”

  “No! You’re not listening . . .” She pointed to the box. “Sometimes things happen. They change us, and life leads us to other paths.”

  “I didn’t want this path and I certainly didn’t want to like you!” His words had enough bite to have Opal flinching a step away from him. “I can’t take this anymore!”

  “Fair enough.” She turned toward the computer to shut it down, knowing she’d laid it out there for him to shoot down. It shouldn’t have been surprising, but the rejection left enough sting to make a burning sensation sweep over her eyes. She expected to hear him stomp away but wasn’t prepared to be twirled around and swept into his warm embrace.

  Opal only managed a small gasp before Lincoln’s tense lips crashed into hers. Confused, all she could do was stand folded in his massive arms while he kissed her good and proper. Lincoln kissed like he was starved, reminding her of his large appetite for food. Never stopping with a small portion, the man set in to get his fill. He had most certainly set out to get his fill at the moment, and all she could do was generously serve it to him.

  It lasted until they both needed air. Lincoln slowly ended the kiss and placed his forehead against hers. “I like you too much, Opal Gilbert.” His voice broke as if finally admitting to his feelings caused him pain.

  “I don’t mind, Lincoln Cole.” She trailed her fingertips down both sides of his neck. “I don’t mind it one bit.”

  Lincoln opened his eyes and angled to meet hers. “Opal, may I please just hold you for a while?”

  She didn’t like the way his request sounded like it had an expiration date, yet she nodded in agreement anyway. The words wouldn’t be shared out loud, but there was no denying sh
e was in love with Lincoln and would gladly give him this small comfort.

  He stepped over to the small love seat in the corner of her office and sat, pulling her onto his lap. His strong arms gathered around her with a fierce gentleness, holding on as if she were his most prized possession.

  “I’ve just wanted to hold you for so long . . . ,” Lincoln whispered, tucking her head closer to him.

  A few more truths were revealed as they held each other while listening to the rain tap a rhythmic beat on the tin roof above them. Lincoln Cole knew a thing or two about kissing. And Opal Gilbert might have been ill-prepared for what revealing her truths would set into motion.

  Most folks thought Opal was a flighty woman who hadn’t enough sense to grasp fear as much as she should. Opal never saw fit to correct them on their misassumptions, but she had fears just like anyone else.

  A good kitschy horror flick with a staggering Frankenstein or masked murderer might not have done much to spook her, but put one of those demon-possessed tropes on and she’d vanish from the room quicker than an apparition doused with holy water. Growing up on the sprawling estate just inland of Sunset Cove, lizards and snakes were common and fascinated her to the point of setting out on amphibian expeditions, but let a spider or palmetto bug scurry by and she’d be fleeing the scene like a guilty vandal. And sure, Opal was known as a social butterfly, but that was how she combated her fear of rejection. Rejection had been a torturous part of her adolescent years, due to her not fitting into the normal box at school.

  She’d learned to brush off most rejections, making her look brave perhaps, but right now she was paralyzed with fear of it as the beast of a man stared her down. She wanted to keep him more than her next breath, but even though he’d given in and admitted how he felt about her, Lincoln still kept a wall erected between them. It was a little flimsier than before but still there, nonetheless.