Divine Connection

by Amy Lyon

  He held up a hand for her to wait, and reached into his pocket with the other. “Oh, and I have something I want to give you.”

  She leaned back and a flash of fear crossed her face. “Oh no,” she said, reaching for her throat. “What are you—”

  “Relax,” he said and held out his palm.

  She exhaled sharply and took the silver token from his palm, pulling it to her chest. “My coin,” she said. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this.”

  “You must have dropped it the night you stayed at my house. I found it in the bedroom.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and Jackson had to ask, “Hey, did you think I was going to pull out a ring?”

  Sara shrugged. “Who knows with you. You told me you loved me the first day you met me.”

  He busted out laughing. “Okay, it was day seven, but who’s counting?” He winked. “I’ll wait at least another month before I pop the big question.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The ambiance in the shop Friday night was heavenly. Sara pumped her new scent, Sweet Serenity, out of diffusers in every corner of the room and the soft lighting gave a warm glow to the place that matched the warm glow filling her heart.

  In a back corner, the Golden Girls gathered at a high-top table around Sally.

  Her mother.

  A smile tipped the corners of her mouth as she eavesdropped on their conversation.

  “Naples has an incredible institute for breast cancer,” Dottie said. “You should consider moving here.”

  “The thought had crossed my mind, but—” Sally pressed her hand to her chest “—oh, I just couldn’t infringe on Sara’s life like that. We’re just starting to mend our relationship.”

  Dottie looked over Sally’s head at Sara and smiled. “I’m pretty sure she’d welcome you here.”

  Sara met her smile with a warm nod. As long as her mother had her own place and they each had their own corners to return to, she was fairly confident they could make this relationship work. She’d forgiven her mother and was coming to terms with her past, and if she could help her going forward, Sara knew her life could only be better as a result.

  “And we’ll help you,” Fancy said, touching Sally’s arm. “You need the support of family and friends.”

  Isn’t that the truth. Sara couldn’t have asked for a better group surrounding her tonight for the grand opening of Sweet Serenity.

  The bells above the door jingled and Matt and Andi entered arm in arm, suntanned and looking like newlyweds in love. Sara barely got her arms around her cousin before Vivian shot through the entrance like a canon.

  “You’ll never believe what I did,” she exclaimed, cutting in front of Andi to grasp Sara’s arms.

  “I can only imagine,” Sara muttered, bringing two fingers to her temple as she dug deep for patience.

  Vivian excitedly recounted the lunch she’d had with the entertainment reporter for a local TV station. “I told her about Sweet Serenity and she’s going to feature your shop during a morning show next week!”

  “Woohoo!” Sara hooted excitedly.

  Vivian linked hands with her to join in what she called “the happy dance” and they bounced from foot to foot in celebration.

  After Sara started the reconciliation process with her mother, she’d made a phone call to Vivian. She owed the woman a sincere apology. First, for assuming she was the Wicked Witch of the West who broke into her shop, and second, for showing absolutely no grace the night of the wedding.

  Vivian had traveled a rough road of her own with two failed marriages and her own mother’s death. While Sara would likely never fully understand the mechanics of how Vivian operated, she deserved Sara’s respect.

  And a whole lot of patience.

  Sara took a deep breath as Vivian moved on to mingle with the guests. She looked around the room and her eyes landed on Jackson, that handsome man of hers.

  She folded her arms and watched him. When he looked her way, she touched the corner of her eye, her heart and pointed at him.

  Jackson repeated the gesture and brought the tips of his fingers together repeatedly.

  I love you more.

  Sara laughed and headed in his direction, but a young couple reached him first.

  “We’re staying at Casa Blanca Resort and Spa,” the man said to Jackson. “Are you the owner of Beachside Rentals?”

  Jackson nodded, pride shining in his eyes.

  “My wife and I are here for the next week on our honeymoon and would like to sign up for your paddleboarding demonstration tomorrow morning. Do you still have openings?”

  Jackson flipped open his new laptop to the spreadsheet Sara had created. “Yep, looks like I could definitely add you to the list.”

  Joy bubbled up from Sara’s throat. She’d taught him the basics of using a smart-phone and a laptop, and he’d taught her how to live and love again.

  She never would have believed that a Minnesota girl could arrive on Mimosa Key with so little and, in less than a month, be full to the brim. Her cup runneth over. She drew in a whiff of the sweet smelling air. Or that a stinky bait shop could be refashioned into a heavenly oasis of fragrant scents and warm ambiance.

  She walked over to the wall where she’d hung her first gift from Jackson. The pallet wood he’d painted with the words, I’d rather shovel sand than snow. Below was a frame that now contained the silver coin she used to carry in her pocket. She ran her finger over the glass, tracing the butterfly emblem.

  Her days of slinking along as an unsure caterpillar were over. She had emerged from her chrysalis. Transformed.

  Even in death there is life.

  And in that life, there was never-ending hope and a future as open and bright as her wings.

  Family. Forgiveness. A future. And love.

  Please enjoy this excerpt from Divine Interruption

  CHAPTER ONE

  Andrea Morgan cruised up the stairs to the entrance of Hope Presbyterian Church, but when her booted foot hit the top step and her fingers curled around the metal door handle, she froze.

  Holm Funeral.

  Her eyes locked on the handwritten sign posted on the door and a bubble lodged in her throat. She’d never met the man. Dwight. Her mother’s significant other. There was absolutely nothing to get choked up about.

  Andi stomped her foot, let go of the handle and pulled at the corners of her eyes with impatient fingers. This was ridiculous. She mentally calculated her monthly cycle and confirmed that tears had no place in her day. She needed to put on her big-girl pants, get inside that church and move this weekend forward.

  Quickly.

  After all, that was the intention of this long weekend. In and out quickly. She’d booked her flight quickly, secured a rental car quickly and made her way, quickly, south on I-75 from Fort Myers Airport to this twelve-mile-long island off Florida’s Gulf Coast to stand in front of this Spanish-style church building. And she planned to return home just as quickly as she’d come.

  It didn’t help that she’d just had the strangest encounter in the parking lot with a little old lady who’d spouted prophecies about Andi like she knew her. Something about her life unfolding and being on the wrong path. Already late, Andi had waved her off, hoping not everyone on Mimosa Key was so strange.

  Now she did what she always did the few times her body betrayed her with a quivering stomach or the prickles under her eyelids that came before tears. She reminded herself how far she’d come on her own by channeling the coveted thinking personality-type of her boss, and how far she’d continue to go if she could keep her feeling personality under control.

  With renewed resolve, Andi sucked in a breath of humid Florida air and gave the door handle a yank to remind the universe who was boss. The hollow wooden slab, lighter than she’d gauged, swung out of her hand and banged loudly into the metal railing.

  Andi’s hand hit her mouth at the same moment. “Oh!”

  A tall frame appeared in the doorway, ushered
her inside without a word and pulled the door closed behind her.

  She blinked hard, trying to adjust her eyes to the indoors after being out in the blinding sun. She turned in a half circle to get her bearings and a good look at the man in front of her. His ocean blue eyes cut through the darkness of the foyer.

  “I’m here for—” she pointed to the closed glass doors that led to the chapel.

  “You’re late.”

  Andi sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry?”

  He watched her—stared, really—and the silence was deafening.

  She had to fill it. “I, well, my flight from Minnesota took off late and the rental place was a zoo—”

  He held up his hand and as her eyes fully adjusted, she saw his face soften.

  “Teasing you,” he said, and when he squinted she caught his playful grin. “Minnesota, huh? Then you must be Andrea.” He extended his hand.

  She reached out and the warmth of his touch sent a calming wave over her body. Melted her, actually. She pulled back. “You can call me Andi. Everybody does.” She looked him over. “And you are?”

  “Matthew Cooke. Assistant pastor.”

  Her heart dropped. Oh, yes. The bearer of bad news.

  “But you can call me Matt. Everybody does.”

  She smiled weakly, struggling to reconcile the voice on the phone with the man in front of her. During their brief conversation yesterday, she’d pictured an older man, shorter, maybe, with a beard and glasses. Because even though his voice was deep and soothing, pastors didn’t typically look like the boy next door. Yet this man had been the one to deliver the news that her mother’s boyfriend had died unexpectedly and she needed to get to Florida. ASAP.

  She adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. “I appreciate you calling to let me know about my mom’s... um, friend. This was the earliest flight I could get.”

  Matt’s brows drew together. “Yeah, no problem. I think she really needs you right now.”

  “I don’t know about that, but—” she held back a snort and waved her hand “—whatever, I’m here now.”

  Matt gestured to the glass doors that led to the sanctuary. “Now, these doors are heavy and breakable, and would cost a fortune to replace—” he leaned in closer to her “—so let me open them for you.”

  She mouthed, “Funny,” as he pushed open the door and guided her to a pew at the front of the church to sit next to a small, frail woman. Andi did a double take. “Mom?”

  Mildred Morgan looked up and her droopy eyes sparked to life. “Andrea! You came!”

  Andi gently shushed her mother and took her outstretched hand. The bubble was back in her throat as her mother grasped both her hands, a cold contrast to Matt’s warm handshake a few minutes earlier.

  She barely noticed Matt had taken a seat at the end of her pew until the music ended, and he stood and moved to the small stage at the front of the church. He welcomed the guests and talked about the importance of supporting Mildred in her grief. Then he quoted scripture from Romans. “If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.”

  Several people came to the pulpit to tell stories and share memories of Dwight. As they spoke, a different picture began to form in Andi’s mind of the man her mother claimed made her feel love at first sight. No such thing, Andi had thought. Love itself was an elusive thing, let alone instant love.

  The service ended with a MercyMe song Andi had heard a few times on the radio, but its significance today, for a man she’d never met, seemed particularly poignant. Especially when she glanced at her mother, who, eyes closed, head tipped back, sang the words in a whisper.

  “Surrounded by your glory/What will my heart feel/

  Will I dance for you Jesus/Or in awe of you be still/

  Will I stand in your presence/

  Or to my knees will I fall/

  Will I sing Hallelujah/Will I be able to speak at all/

  I can only imagine.”

  Hearing her mother’s frail voice choked with tears and an inexplicable joy, Andi’s shoulders curled forward and her chest felt hollow. Guilt found a clear path to creep up her spine and settle on her shoulders. All she could do was squeeze her mother’s hand more tightly. Through blurry vision, she focused on the small, wet circles that formed, one after another, on the light gray fabric covering her thighs.

  This might not be as easy as she’d thought.

  The final notes of the song rang through the chapel and Matt invited the mourners to attend the post-funeral reception at Millie’s house. Andi wondered how well her mother and the handsome young assistant pastor knew each other, considering her mother had always reserved that nickname for close friends.

  An older woman sitting to her mother’s left stood and Millie followed suit.

  “See you at the house,” her mother said, giving Andi a sweet wave. Andi watched, dumbfounded, as her mother linked arms with the other woman and ambled off.

  Her mother hadn’t seemed angry, quite the opposite, so what was with the flippant attitude? See you at the house. She had every right to be angry, considering Andi hadn’t come to visit since her mother left Minnesota and moved to Mimosa Key to shack up with Dwight.

  She stood, hoping she could shake off the renewed sense of guilt, and scanned the crowd. Her eyes quickly landed on Matt, who stood a solid foot taller than the much older men and women surrounding him. His dark brown hair and tanned face were a sharp contrast to the gray hair and translucent white skin of the others.

  They adore him, Andi thought. And she could see why. His eyes were deep and comforting and his smile was full and genuine. He probably served as a reminder of the grandsons they had or wanted someday. Funny thing was, even in his black pants and crisp white shirt, he looked more like a baseball player than a pastor.

  He turned and Andi looked away quickly, then back to catch his gaze. He mouthed the words, “Still here?” And moved in her direction.

  She smiled, because, man, who could not smile around him? And if she wasn’t mistaken, he’d spent more time looking at her during the service than anyone else in the small crowd of mourners. Which, understandably, led her to now glance at his left hand to check for a ring. When she didn’t see one, she silently chastised herself for the gleeful tic that pulled at the corners of her mouth. He’s a pastor, she reminded herself.

  He stopped in front of her and she put her hands on her hips. “I have a problem,” she said.

  “How can I help?”

  “I need directions to my mother’s house. She ditched me.”

  “That’s right,” he said, his brows drawing together. “You haven’t been here before.”

  Andi rolled her eyes. “I get it. I’m an awful daughter.”

  “Didn’t say that.”

  She mentally calculated the years since she’d seen her mother: Four. Or was it five? The years blurred together, but she remembered distinctly the day her mother asked her to go to lunch and revealed she’d met the man of her dreams on a girls’ weekend down south. She moved to Mimosa Key less than a month later.

  “I’d have remembered,” Matt said.

  “What’s that?”

  “You,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I would have remembered you if you’d been here before.”

  Andi’s ears grew hot. “Oh.”

  He dipped his head to meet her gaze. “Your mom talks about you a lot.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He smiled. “No, really. I know that—” he ticked off one finger “—you’re an artist.”

  “Graphic designer.”

  “You own a fancy house in the city.”

  “Loft, actually. And I don’t own it. I rent it from my boss.”

  He held up a third finger. “And there was one more thing.” He looked at the ceiling as if searching for the answer, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, yes. You’ve loved baseball since you were a kid. Me, too.”

  Andi laughed. “Now that is one-hundred
-percent true.” And she was dying to learn what other nuggets her mother had shared, but she chose not to bog down this moment with family drama.

  He pushed his hands into his pockets. “So, you wanna follow me?”

  She nodded. Anywhere.

  * * *

  In the parking lot, Andi felt a rush of heat, and couldn’t be sure if it was due to the temperature or the sight of the man climbing into the truck in front of her. She slipped into her rental car and blasted the air, hoping she could bring relief to her sweating body. She wiggled her toes inside the black boots that were trendy and cute in Minnesota, especially when worn over leggings paired with a long sweater, as they were now. Here, the boots were as constricting as a second skin and she considered taking them off to give her bare feet some room to breathe.

  Think again. No way she’d bare those chalk-white tootsies to the world with unkempt toenails that hadn’t seen a pedicure since September. It was February, and in Minnesota there was no shame in her twenty-four-seven sock-footed game. But here... well, here was a different story.

  She mentally ran through the contents of her suitcase and landed on tennis shoes as her only other option. Wow. She really should have checked the Weather Channel before heading south. But even with Matt’s phone call and the whopping twelve hours she had to plan, pack, sleep and get to the airport, her mind had never left her immediate surroundings. She was concerned about her laptop, her various electronics chargers, and ensuring access to the cloud servers so she could make this a working weekend.

  Her appearance was at the bottom of that list.

  She pulled her sunglasses down her nose and peeked at her eyes in the rear-view mirror. Sheesh. She could have at least dabbed on a little mascara to accentuate the brown eyes that usually served as her best feature.

  Matt’s truck turned onto a side street and eased to a stop in an empty driveway. Andi guided her vehicle in next to a mailbox and turned it off. When she opened the door, the instant rush of heat hit her again.