by Irene Hannon
The steady look she directed at him confirmed what he’d already begun to suspect. That despite the confidences she’d shared with him on Saturday at The Point, she had qualms about taking their relationship to the next level.
Given her history—and the temporary nature of his stay in Starfish Bay—he understood why.
He also knew that addressing her concerns had to be his top priority in the next few days.
As he opened his mouth to respond, the phone behind the counter began to ring.
“That’s probably the attorney in Eureka who’s drawing up the paperwork for our Save the Point organization. He said he’d call about now.” She took a step back, her relieved expression telling him she was glad their conversation had been cut short. “As soon as I get the green light I’ll let you know where to direct your readers who want to contribute.”
Without waiting for a reply, she rounded a shelving unit and disappeared.
Nate let her go. For now. He understood that the heartaches she’d endured had made her wary. That getting involved with another man in a dangerous profession—who also happened to live halfway across the country—was a major hurdle.
But he was putting together a plan he hoped would eliminate those obstacles.
And he prayed it would open the doors to the life he believed God had called him to on that desert night a world away from Starfish Bay.
As the cameraman from the San Francisco TV station wandered around The Point searching for the best shooting angle, Lindsey forced herself to take a deep breath. In a minute or two, the reporter standing off to one side and jotting in a notebook would expect her to face the lens and give viewers an articulate, poised response to her questions.
She turned away, toward the sea, and wiped her palms down her jeans as she fought back a wave of panic. Saying yes to the request for an interview when the news team had shown up at the Mercantile soon after Nate departed had been a no-brainer. The more publicity they got about the Save the Point campaign, the better. And if Nate could venture far outside his comfort zone by penning that heartfelt piece for the Tribune, the least she could do was speak on camera for three or four minutes.
Except the last time she’d been up close and personal with a reporter had been right after Mark’s death. And it had not been a positive experience.
But this was different. And it was for a good cause. She could do it. She had to do it. The whole Save the Point campaign had been her idea. She couldn’t drop the ball.
Too bad Nate wasn’t here, though. His mere presence would calm her, and she’d—
“You okay?”
At the familiar resonant baritone behind her, she whipped around. Blinked. Was the man standing a few feet away real or some wishful apparition she’d conjured up? She blinked again. Much to her relief, Nate didn’t vanish. “What are you doing here?”
“I left my flash drive on the table at the Mercantile, and when I went back your dad told me about the news crew. I thought I’d drop by and see if you could use a little moral support.”
“Yes.” She choked out the word. Without thinking, she reached for his hand, twined her fingers through his and held on. Tight.
For a moment, he seemed taken aback by the impulsive gesture. But then he gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Your fingers are cold.”
She checked over his shoulder. It appeared the cameraman, who was now conferring with the reporter, had found his spot. Her pulse kicked up a notch and she tightened her grip.
“I don’t know if I can pull this off. The only other time I’ve faced a camera was after Mark was k-killed. The reporter cornered me as I left the hospital, and when he pushed for details about what happened in the parking garage I ended up falling apart in front of thousands of viewers. Instead of apologizing for being a jerk, he was aggravated I ruined his exclusive interview.”
A muscle tensed in Nate’s jaw. “Some of those broadcast types are insensitive, arrogant hotshots. I ran into a few in the Middle East. But I’ve caught some of her interviews on TV since I’ve been here.” He inclined his head toward the female reporter, still in conference with the cameraman. “I don’t think you need to worry. My guess is she’s going to give this the David and Goliath treatment. I would, in her place.”
“You think so?” Lindsey sized up the reporter.
“Yeah. I do. Just talk to her the way you talked to me about this place. Let your passion come through. And don’t forget to mention the tax-exempt foundation. Might as well get as many donations as you can out of this.” He winked at her.
Lindsey felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. “Will you hang around during the interview?”
“That was my plan. Unless my presence will make you more nervous.”
She met his gaze. “In this case, it would help keep me calm.”
The slight flicker in his eyes told her he’d caught her deeper meaning. That apart from this interview, he did make her nervous. And they were going to have to talk about that. Soon. She didn’t know how much longer he was planning to stay, but it couldn’t be more than a couple of weeks. And while they’d shared a great deal with each other, while they’d connected at an elemental level, while the spark between them was strong, she had no idea if they were going to be able to deal with all of the challenges—and obstacles—that stood in the way of deepening their relationship once his stay here was over.
“Ms. Collier? We’re ready.”
Lindsey’s pulse tripped into double time again, and after one more squeeze of her hand, Nate released her fingers with a smile.
“Knock ’em dead.” He gestured off to the side. “I’ll be over there.”
“This way, Ms. Collier. We want to use the chapel as a backdrop.”
As the reporter ushered her to a small rise overlooking The Point, with the weathered chapel and cerulean sea behind her, Lindsey watched Nate fade into the background. As the camera began to roll she focused on him, taking comfort in his encouraging smile.
By the third question, however, she was on a roll as she let the passion she felt for The Point bubble to the surface.
When she finished, she checked on Nate again, who gave her a grin and a thumbs-up.
She wanted to thank him. But the reporter had more questions, background information she needed to help her develop an introduction for the story. Once it became apparent Lindsey would be tied up a while, Nate pointed to the hidden path, lifted a hand in farewell and strolled toward the woods. By the time she was finished, he was long gone.
Just as he would be in a couple of short weeks.
Only he’d be a lot farther away than the Orchid Motel.
That thought sent her spirits into a tailspin.
“Can we offer you a ride back to town?” The cameraman called out the question as he loaded his equipment in the back of their rented Suburban.
“No, thanks. I know a shortcut through the woods.”
With a wave, he climbed behind the wheel and pointed the vehicle down the road.
Once it disappeared around a curve, Lindsey wandered over to the bench, wishing Reverend Tobias was still around to offer his trademark words of wisdom. All her life, up to and including the day she’d married in this very spot, he’d known exactly the right thing to say, no matter the situation.
As she sat, a snippet of the sermon he’d preached at her wedding suddenly surfaced, taking her by surprise. She’d been so caught up in the euphoria of the ceremony, her hand clasped in Mark’s, that most of what her pastor said had been a blur.
Odd that now, years later, his conclusion would echo in her mind with such clarity.
Loving is always a risk. Always. Life holds no promises. Blue skies can darken in a heartbeat. Landscapes can shift overnight. That’s why it takes courage to love. But the gift of love, given and received, is well worth the risk. Because love can, to paraphrase a famous aviator, allow us to slip the surly bonds of earth and touch the face of God.
Lindsey’s vision blurred. When Reverend
Tobias had spoken those words on that joy-filled day, she’d heard only the upbeat message. The part about love moving one to a higher realm. As it had.
The concept of risk and the tenuous nature of happiness hadn’t even registered.
It did now, though.
Because loving Nate was a risk.
Yet could she let him walk away, now that it was obvious the connection that had sealed their friendship as kids was stronger than ever?
Rising, Lindsey surveyed the sea, then traced the length of the tall, weathered steeple. Despite the turmoil of her thoughts, she did know one thing: to make this relationship work she needed both courage and trust.
But as she trudged toward the hidden path that would take her home, she wasn’t certain she had enough of either to overcome her fear and induce her to take a second chance on love.
“You want another refill?”
At Genevieve’s query, Nate checked out his half-empty mug sitting on the Orchid Café counter.
“How many have I already had?”
“Lost count at number three. We have a bottomless cup, and I know you like your java, but seems like you’re going to be floating out of here soon. You hanging around for any particular reason?” She used the pot in her hands to indicate the booth in the corner, where Lindsey, her back to them, was in deep discussion with yet another reporter.
No use trying to fool the sisters. They were on to him. He’d been lurking around Lindsey ever since her TV interview at The Point two days ago, trying to catch her alone. So far, no go. By design, he suspected. Nor was she answering her cell or returning his messages.
And until they had a long and serious talk, his hands were tied. No sense moving forward with his plan if she’d gotten cold feet about them.
Talk about a discouraging thought.
“Never mind. I can figure it out.”
At Genevieve’s comment, he transferred his attention back to her. “Getting five minutes alone with her is as impossible as resisting your sister’s blackberry cobbler.”
The older woman chuckled. “She’s been busy getting the Save the Point organization set up and dealing with the media. Did you know we already have more than $10,000 in donations? Amazing what a little publicity will do. Not to mention that fine article you wrote that kicked the whole thing off. But if you want my honest opinion—” she leaned closer and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “—I think she’s running scared. You have the look of a man on a mission. That can be intimidating to a woman.”
“Not to a woman who’s interested.”
“Oh, she’s interested, all right.” Genevieve straightened up. “But she left Starfish Bay once for a man she loved, and it ended badly. Can’t be easy for her to consider turning her life upside down again.”
“Maybe I’m not expecting her to.”
She gave him a speculative look. “You tell her that?”
“I have some things to work out first. But I need to find out how serious she is before I put the wheels in motion.”
“I see your dilemma.” Genevieve eyed the corner booth again. “Tell you what. They seem to be wrapping things up over there. And I see Frank Martinez waiting to waylay her. You wait in the office. Lillian’s gone to Crescent City for a few hours, so you’ll have it to yourself. I’ll get you your five minutes with Lindsey. The rest is up to you.”
He grinned. “I owe you for this.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Giving him a saucy wink, she waved him toward the back of the café.
After checking to confirm that Lindsey was still engrossed in her discussion, he slid off his stool and slipped through the door that led to the office where he’d borrowed Lillian’s internet connection.
Less than ten minutes later, intent on whatever errand Genevieve had concocted, Lindsey pushed through the door and crossed to the desk, scanning the littered surface.
Nate reached for the door. Gave it a slight push. Planted himself in front of it as it clicked shut and Lindsey swung around.
“Hi.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“What are you… Did Genevieve ask you to…oh!” As she put two and two together, she tried to back away. But the desk blocked her.
“We need to talk.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“We can make this work.”
She gripped the edge of the desk behind her. Although her eyes widened at his cut-to-the-chase comment, she remained silent.
He took a step toward her and softened his voice. “Do you want it to work, Lindsey?”
Her throat contracted as she swallowed, and distress tightened her features. “I haven’t had two minutes to call my own since The Point thing started to accelerate. I need some time to think things through.”
“Maybe you just need to listen to your heart.”
“Doing that got me into trouble once.”
He moved closer. Close enough to tell she was quivering. “Did it? That would suggest you regret marrying Mark, and I don’t think you do. If you had it to do again, knowing how it would end, would you have wanted to miss the life you had with him—and the love you shared—no matter how brief?”
She stared up at him. Moistened her lips. “No.” The word came out in a broken whisper. “But risking that kind of loss again…I don’t know if I have the courage to do that.”
“I think you do. I think you know love is worth it. And that’s where we’re headed. At least I am. And I’m hoping you are, too.”
His next move hadn’t been part of his strategy. And while he knew it might not be the smartest thing he’d ever done, Nate followed the urging of his own heart.
Resting his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down and kissed her.
Even as he made contact, he told himself to keep it quick and gentle. A mere touching of lips, lingering just long enough to test the waters. He didn’t want to compound this possible mistake by letting things get too heavy—despite the strong urge to tug her close and give her a true demonstration of the depth of his feelings.
Except Lindsey’s response changed everything. He’d expected her, at best, to accept his kiss. He hadn’t expected her to melt against him, throw her arms around his neck and return the kiss, holding nothing back.
One thing combat coverage had taught him was to remain flexible. Adapt to sudden changes.
So he adapted. Enthusiastically.
How much time passed, Nate had no idea. But when Lindsey at last eased back and he searched her flushed face, inches from his, he wished this moment could last forever. Because as he held her in the shelter of his arms, he knew with absolute certainty this was where he was meant to be. That after years of searching, after logging hundreds of thousands of miles all over the world, he’d come home at last.
Before he could speak, however, she wiggled free, slipped around him and made a beeline for the door.
He turned, but stayed by the desk. “Lindsey.”
She hesitated, her hand on the knob, and risked a peek at him. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed, her respiration uneven.
“We still need to talk.”
“I know.” The words came out breathless. “But not today.”
With that, she slipped through the door and closed it behind her.
Nate didn’t follow. He didn’t have to. This little rendezvous hadn’t been designed to eliminate the obstacles in their path—only to find out whether Lindsey cared enough about him to make eliminating them worthwhile.
And when he finally strolled toward the door, stopping in front of the Paul Bunyan souvenir mirror on the office wall to wipe a smear of lipstick off his cheek, he grinned. They might not have talked much just now. But he had his answer.
It was time to put his plan into action.
Right after he took care of one other important piece of business.
“Did your editor really like it?” Jarrod leaned forward in his chair, eyes alight.
Nate smiled. The eagerness and enthusiasm on the boy’s
face was more than enough payoff for the hours he’d spent working with him. “He loved it. I couldn’t have done it without you, though, and I told him that.”
The youngster beamed.
“Here you go.” Cindy exited the house onto the deck carrying two glasses of lemonade and set them on the round patio table where he and Jarrod sat.
“Nate’s editor liked our story, Mom.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You both did an incredible job.” She sent a grateful smile his way, and Nate acknowledged it with a slight dip of his head. “Now I’ll leave you two gentlemen to finish up your business. I still have another load of laundry to do.”
As she disappeared back through the sliding door, Jarrod took a sip of his lemonade and furrowed his brow. “You know, I thought this summer was going to stink. Dad always tried not to travel as much when I was off school, and me and him would bum around together a lot. When he did go out of town, Mom thought up lots of cool stuff for us to do, too. Then everything changed.” He traced the partial ring of condensation on the table, using his finger to complete the circle. “I never thought I’d be happy again. But this summer turned out okay, after all.”
Yeah, it had. For him, too. Thanks in part to the boy sitting across from him, who’d helped him confront a lot of his own issues from the past—and write an article that had been as therapeutic for him as it had been for his young student.
But most of all thanks to Lindsey, who’d pushed him beyond his comfort level, into emotional territory he’d avoided for too many years. And who’d stolen his heart all over again in the process.
“So are you leaving soon?”
At Jarrod’s question, he forced himself to refocus. “I’m not sure of my timing yet.”
The boy swirled the ice in his glass, keeping his gaze on the opaque liquid. “It’s too bad you have to go back. Starfish Bay is a nice place to live. But I guess Chicago is more exciting.”
Not anymore.
“It has its good points, like any other place.” He kept his response noncommittal and changed the subject. “So tell me what book you’re reading now.”