Downstairs, Alex found Clare already at the table with Finley. Lucy’s grandmother sipped tea while Finley practiced variations on her pout.
What he needed was some coffee. That would clear his head and give him a much-needed jolt to get through the rest of this day.
He passed a window on his way to the kitchen.
And stopped.
Beyond the walkway, past the dunes, and across the sand was the very same ocean he and Will had grown up in. It rolled in and out, flowing in the same rhythm of their childhood. But life didn’t stay the same. The waves would always be there, a living testimony to two boys who lived for weekends at the beach. But Will was gone. Alex felt him all over the house and knew if he walked onto the shore, Will would be there too.
“Morning.” He reached for a mug in the cabinet next to where his mother stood at the stove.
“Happy birthday, sweetie.” She kissed his cheek and smiled, but the sadness lurked beneath. “It’s a beautiful day outside.”
“Yeah, it’s . . . nice.”
His mom held out the coffee and poured some in his cup as the bacon sizzled on the stove. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk lately.” The kindness and concern on her face was more than he wanted to deal with this morning. “Alex . . . how are you really doing?”
That should be the question he was asking her, but he just hadn’t been able to form the words. “I’m fine.” He took a sip, not minding the burn of the liquid all the way down. “Keeping busy. Trying not to think about it.”
His mom pressed her lips together and nodded. “You know, it’s not just the news of Will’s death we’re talking about here. You’ve been distant for a while now.”
“It’s nothing.” Just a daily war in his head. “The campaign requires a lot of time. It will be winding down soon.”
“And then?” She tilted her head and studied her son. “I’m proud of you. Your father and I both are. But you haven’t been happy in years.”
“I’m completely content.” He had houses, cars, friends in every state. An election that had totally turned around and was looking more like a sure thing every day.
“Your dad was shocked that you and Lucy got engaged so fast.” Laugh lines fanned as she smiled. “But I reminded him that he and I only dated three months before we got married. And a year later we had you two.” She reached for a fork and turned the bacon. “We like her, Alex. You should bring her around more.”
He knew that translated into you should come around more.
“Finley’s convinced you’re mad at us. I don’t know where that girl gets her ideas lately.” Hands that had fixed many a family breakfast turned down the burner. “You’re not mad, are you?”
“Of course not.” How could he tell her? That something had been chasing him for a year. That every night he went to bed with guilt and a restlessness that wouldn’t leave him in peace.
“Are you happy? That’s all we care about.”
The tightness expanded in his chest. “Yes. Of course.”
“Busy and happy are two different things.”
She sounded just like his dad. They couldn’t see that he was out there trying to find that happiness every day. Will had made it look so easy. But the more Alex tried to create a life, the more that empty hole widened.
“I love you.” His mom put down her fork and cupped his face in her hands, just like she had done when he was young. “You could sell peaches on the side of the road, and we’d still be proud of you. But sometimes I wonder if . . .” She stopped and shook her head. “I lost one son . . . and some days I feel like I’m losing another.”
The family sat down at the table in the pale-blue dining room, and Lucy fluffed her napkin into her lap just as Clare had taught her. She was rewarded with a small nod from her grandmother, who sat across from her. Next to Lucy, of course, was her devoted fiancé. Alex looked tired, and she hoped he had slept as miserably as she had. Probably hadn’t given their conversation from last night another thought. If he’d lain awake, it was probably due to hours of sweet talk on the phone with the mysterious Kat.
With the waves crashing in the distance, Marcus led the family in prayer. When he offered up his thanks for Will’s life, it was everything Lucy could do not to steal a look at Alex. She could feel his tension radiating like a sunburn.
At the word amen, Alex passed Lucy a bowl of mixed fruit, brushing his arm against hers. Did he have to sit so close?
“Sleep well, hon?” He plopped a waffle on her plate.
She batted her eyelashes and turned up the amps on her smile. “Best rest I’ve had in months, sweetie.”
“Is that so?”
“Not a care on my mind.”
“Well, I didn’t get much sleep.” Clare poured dainty stripes of syrup. “Whoever hid the controllers to the Wii had better cough them up or I’m not giving Alex his birthday gift.”
Julian sniffed. “I’m sure he’ll be so sad not to get his cheese-of-the-month subscription.”
Donna pulled the butter away from her husband and set it out of reach. “Lucy, Alex has been telling us more about Saving Grace. What incredible work you do there.”
“God’s really blessed us,” Lucy said.
Clare beamed like a proud grandmother. “Some of the girls are quite a handful. Lucy has a kind but firm hand.”
“They just need someone in their corner.” Lucy brushed a crumb off the corner of her mouth. “We know if they have a support system, their chances for success are significantly higher.”
“I like to see someone passionate about her work,” Marcus said. “What inspired you?”
“It’s a long story.” Lucy cut her waffle into tiny bites, knowing carbs and bathing suits did not mix. “But it’s definitely what I’m put on this earth to do.”
“Lucy does an incredible job,” Alex said. “Her girls love her.”
She wouldn’t let herself be lulled by his flattering words. “So many of them have been abandoned, rejected, and they’ve been raised to think the worst about themselves.” A movie reel of memories played in Lucy’s mind, but she willed the dark thoughts away. “They just need to accept that God sees them as beautiful, talented, worthy women.”
Alex’s eyes lingered on hers. “Sounds like someone I know.”
“Speaking of rejection,” Finley said. “Alex, how old were you when Mom and Dad left you alone overnight?”
Marcus gave his son a sharp look.
“Um.” Alex took a long drink of juice. “Twenty-eight?”
“We’re not leaving you alone for a week by yourself,” Marcus said. “That’s final.”
“They’re honoring Will at the CNN headquarters next month, and Finley really can’t afford to be gone,” Donna explained. “She has the SAT and cheerleading camp.”
“I’m old enough to take care of myself.”
“It’s that boyfriend we’re worried about.” Marcus eyed his daughter. “After the behavior we’ve seen lately, there’s no way we’re trusting you to stay home or with friends, so you’re going with us.”
“Come on, Dad,” Alex said. “Give her a little credit.”
“I found her sneaking out of the house three weeks ago.”
Marcus might be as wealthy as Donald Trump, but he was a hands-on parent. Lucy admired him for that. If Steven Deveraux had had that kind of integrity, what would her life be like now?
Then an idea popped into her head.
But she couldn’t . . . he would kill her.
“She could stay with Alex.”
A trickle of fear crawled across Lucy’s skin as his dark eyes slowly turned to hers. “I’m a little busy,” he said. “I’m running for this thing. You might have heard of it—Congress?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Finley assumed the universal pose of indifference. “Like he’d do that.”
Lucy was not going to let this go. Alex needed to spend some time with his sister. Plus it would be a nice little piece of revenge for last night. “
He would do that. In fact, Alex was just telling me the other day how he didn’t get to see you enough. He said he wished there were more opportunities to hang out.” She removed the hand he had clamped over her knee. “Didn’t you say that?”
Paybacks were going to be brutal. “I’m not sure if I recall my exact words—like you apparently do.”
“It’s obviously meant to be.” Lucy smiled at Finley. “He can get in that sister-time he’s been wanting, and you don’t have to miss your events while your parents are gone.”
His mother didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”
“He’s positive.” Lucy leaned against him, bravely resting her head against his shoulder. “Maybe you can both go get your nails done.”
“Mani-pedis?” Julian nudged an attentive Clare. “Count us in!”
Chapter Thirty-four
Lucy was sun-kissed, frizz-haired, and convinced the sand in her bikini bottom was sent straight from Satan.
The luxurious day had been filled with swimming, bike riding, games, and food. They’d all watched the island’s fireworks show from lawn chairs on the beach, then lingered under the moonlight as Donna and Marcus reminisced about past birthdays with Alex and Will. Alex had sat there in stony silence, staring at the ocean. The only sign he’d shown of listening was the grip he’d held on Lucy’s hand. She was still mad at him, but she wouldn’t have let go for anything.
Despite their desire to make everything festive for Finley, sorrow intruded every chance it got. At one point, as Marcus talked about past holidays, Donna had gotten up and rushed back into the house. She gave the excuse she was checking on the coffeepot, but there had been tears slipping down her cheeks as she walked past Lucy. Her mother’s heart was breaking.
Now, worn out and ready to crash, Lucy went into her bedroom after their return from the beach. She dug into her suitcase and pulled out one more wrapped gift. After birthday cake at lunch, Alex had opened all his presents. Lucy had given him a new golf bag, but that wasn’t exactly the most personal of tokens.
Clutching the package, she crossed the hall and stood before his door. Though this wasn’t a peace offering, she was about to be the big one and step over enemy lines.
She knocked softly, and when he didn’t answer after a moment, she pushed the door open.
His room was empty. Looking out his terrace, a light shone below on the beach. He must’ve gone down there to get some alone time. And she was about to interrupt it.
Lucy’s feet sank into the cool sand as she stepped off the narrow wooden boardwalk. The grass in the dunes whispered in the warm breeze as she headed toward Alex.
Chair slung back low, his hands rested on his stomach as he stared at the crackling fire in front of him. Her heart folded in half.
Alex spoke before she did. “My dad gave me Will’s Bible.”
Her toes dug into the sand as she settled into the seat beside him. “I can’t think of a more perfect gift.” The flames flickered, giving her a darkened view of his somber profile. The novelty of looking at him would never wear off. Years from now she’d see him on the cover of a magazine in the grocery checkout line and still think he was the most beautiful man she’d ever met. He was more elegant, even now in his khaki shorts and Warriors T-shirt, than she was in her best dress.
Lucy forced herself to focus on the job at hand. “I’m not here to apologize.”
His eyes fell on the blue-and-white package in her arms. “If that’s an explosive device, I’d ask that you’d at least spare the others.”
“You’re safe. For now.” She held it out, growing more uncertain with each passing second. “I didn’t want to give this to you in front of everyone. It’s nothing big. I mean, it’s just a little something I made, so it’s not some major thing or—”
“Lucy”—he took the gift from her bumbling hands—“you’re doing that thing again.”
“What?”
“That thing where you wave your inferiority complex around like an Olympic flag.”
Why had she come down here again? She should’ve just gone with instinct number two and headed straight to bed.
His fingers traveled under the seam and tape as he peeled open the layers of the package, taking special care as if it were a precious treasure. Wrapping paper removed, he lifted the lid of the box and looked inside.
Alex ran his hand over the raised letters of the photo album. The Life of Will Sinclair. His eyes lifted.
“Open it,” she whispered.
He stared at her a moment longer as if he might refuse. Finally, he flipped to the first page and then another. There was a picture of him and Will, toddlers on the beach. Will hanging from a tree as seven-year-old Alex stood below and laughed. The two boys in their blue high school graduation gowns.
He was only a quarter of the way through when he shut the book. Leaning his head back against the chair, his gaze searched hers. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
She shrugged. “It’s too dark to really see. I know it’s nothing, really. Just something—”
“Don’t—don’t do that.” He set the album in his chair and dropped to his knees in front of her. “It is something. You did this for me.” His voice was rough, questioning as his hands held hers. “How?”
The waves charged the beach only to slide back out again, and though the moon shone overhead, the warmth of the long-gone sun still heated Lucy’s skin. “Your mom helped me. I got her to e-mail me a ton of pictures. I’m sure it took her forever, so it’s a wonder she still likes me.”
“She adores you.” His gaze on hers was so intense, she wanted to look away. “How could anyone not?” And then he kissed her.
His lips touched hers with an urgency that threatened to swallow her whole. Lucy tasted salt as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He held on to her like a lifeline, as if she were a balm for his fractured heart. She was drowning in him and helpless to stop it. Didn’t even know if she wanted to.
Alex lifted his head.
Their eyes met. Breath's mingled.
His thumb swept across her bottom lip.
His heart beat beneath her palm.
Lucy’s pulse whipped wildly as he slid his hands down her arms and joined their hands. “Thank you, Lucy Wiltshire.”
“You’re welcome.”
“No one’s ever done something like that for me.”
The lantern cast shadows across his face, but she knew it was nothing compared to the ones draped over his soul. “Maybe in the next few days you can look at the rest of it.” She squeezed his hands. “You have an amazing family, Alex. They love you. And I know your brother did too. It’s so obvious in those pictures.”
He slowly nodded. “It’s hard to be around them right now.”
“Nobody’s asking you to earn your time here. Your brother wouldn’t want you to live your life like you’re being pursued by the hounds of hell.”
“I failed him, Lucy.”
“No, you didn’t. You’re your own person. You don’t have to save children and dodge mortar fire like him.”
“I just want to be more. I want my life to stand for something.”
“It does.” Releasing his hand, she trailed her fingers through the dark hair and cupped his face. “You’re a good man who’s doing good things. At what point are you going to be satisfied with that and give yourself permission to slow down?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I just know I can’t right now.”
There was nothing else she could say. Somehow his hurt had become hers, but he would have to be the one to accept the truth. God, open his eyes.
Alex cleared his throat as he moved away from her. “I have something for you too. Don’t go anywhere.” He jogged back to the house, leaving Lucy alone on the beach with her racing thoughts and the lulling waves.
A few minutes later he returned, his feet heavy on the sand. He carried a pink gift bag, stuffed at the top with plumes of tissue paper that shimmied in the wind.
&nb
sp; Happiness was a fine wine, and Lucy drank it in. She made quick work of removing the paper and what she saw had tears brimming in her eyes.
Star Trek
Season Two: Episode 19
A Private Little War
“Oh.” It was an original script from the show. “Oh my.”
He tapped his finger on the cover page. “That right there is—”
“William Shatner’s signature!” She couldn’t catch her breath.
“You’re not going to pass out again, are you?”
She couldn’t stop looking at Alex. At the script. And back to Alex. “Where did you find this?”
“I have my ways.” His smile was lopsided as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I tracked it down when your Leonard Nimoy picture got trashed.”
She sniffed the ocean air. “I love it.”
“Hey, none of that.” He brushed a tear away from her cheek. “You know I can’t stand that stuff.”
“This is . . . amazing. It’s Captain Kirk. It’s—”
Love.
It was love.
The words opened in her heart like a rusty trap.
Alex had become her friend, her champion. In some ways, he knew her better than Morgan. Certainly better than Matt. He had seen her at her best and worst. He made her laugh. Made her think.
But Alex was sports riddles and tuxedos. Designer suits and homes on the coast.
And she was none of those things.
Closing her eyes, Lucy cursed her stupidity. She adored a man who would never love her back. One who had an agenda that didn’t include a wife and family.
“Is something wrong?”
Yes, she thought miserably as Alex pulled her close. Something was wrong.
She had gone and fallen in love with her fiancé.
Chapter Thirty-five
It was week-old meat loaf. A cloud of old lady perfume. Bug guts on the windshield. Love . . . was nauseating.
“For the second time, Lucy, I’m holding up two pictures. Which one is Representative Shively’s wife?”
Clare sat beside Lucy at the breakfast table, clutching her beloved flash cards. In a matter of minutes Alex would pick her up for church. Instead of the regular service, they were going to help with Chuck’s youth group. Alex had warned that the closer they got to the election, the less they’d see each other. It had been a week since they had left the beach. Enough time to dislodge this ridiculous notion that she was in love with him. She’d held this wild hope that the miserable thing she felt for Alex was nothing but a crush. Perhaps one could even label it an addiction. But no.
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