Return to Magnolia Harbor

by Hope Ramsay

  She hadn’t been inside Heavenly Rest except for MeeMaw’s and PopPop’s funerals years ago. Granny was a Methodist, and that’s where she’d always worshipped. Momma had been laid to rest in a grave beside Daddy in the cemetery clear across town.

  Heavenly Rest was the oldest church on the island, and it was small and a little dark inside. But it had a peacefulness to it that soothed Jessica’s aching heart. She settled back and lost herself in the worship service.

  The Gospel reading from Luke was the one where Jesus teaches his disciples how to pray the Lord’s Prayer. It was a familiar one, even though the King James Version was a bit more flowery than the passage she’d learned in Methodist Sunday school.

  Reverend St. Pierre ascended to the pulpit and began his sermon in a strong voice that carried all the way back to where Jessica sat.

  “The Gospel reading today is about more than the power of prayer,” he said. “It’s about forgiveness. Think about the words Jesus taught his followers to use: Forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

  “What was He telling us? Was He saying that all we have to do is ask, and poof, we’re forgiven? No. That’s not it. In this passage, Jesus says that we have to work for forgiveness, and not with empty apologies. To be forgiven, we have to forgive.

  “To find love, we must love. To find comfort, we must comfort. To find truth, we must tell the truth. And so it goes. Imagine a world where everyone was ready to forgive, where everyone opened their door and gave their daily bread to a stranger. Where everyone told the truth and loved their neighbor.

  “That would be a world worth actively praying for. This is what we say every week when we recite the Lord’s Prayer. This is what we are hoping to find and what we pledge to create right here on earth, every day.”

  Oh dear Lord. This message was so simple and so beautiful and something her therapist back in Charleston had been trying to tell her for years.

  It wasn’t enough for her to apologize for things she hadn’t done. To bury her pain so she could come back to her family.

  That wasn’t forgiveness. That was living a lie.

  Forgiveness was forgiving. And not because it let any of them off the hook for the damage they’d done. But because all of that forgiveness would be good for her own self.

  Jessica was glad she’d come home and spent some time with Momma before she died, but she’d come expecting an apology. That wasn’t the way it worked. You couldn’t really count on the people who had hurt you for that kind of thing.

  You just had to truly move on. Forgive them and hope they’d see the light.

  And she’d been wrong this morning. There was something left here in Magnolia Harbor. There was her business. There was Colton, who needed and wanted forgiveness. And there was Granny, who needed it but didn’t really understand.

  She could forgive Granny but forgiving her didn’t mean she had to go to tea every Saturday and hold her tongue when Granny said cruel things.

  She didn’t have to be with Granny if that was the way Granny chose to be. And she didn’t have to run away, either.

  And that brought her back to the most important thing. The thing she’d been running from the most.

  Topher.

  She didn’t need to forgive him. She needed to apologize. He was the walking embodiment of a real hero. He hadn’t gone looking for glory. He hadn’t intended for her to find out what he’d done to save the town, but that wasn’t the same as lying to her. He wasn’t out there tooting his own horn like Caleb Tate.

  No. He’d never been that way.

  He’d pulled her aside years ago and told her to be careful. He’d pulled Colton aside and told him to take care. He hadn’t done that out of judgment. He’d done those things because he’d cared.

  Because he understood what Reverend St. Pierre had just said better than she did.

  She’d been so wrong about him. Topher wasn’t at all like Daddy. He’d never judged her. And when she’d really needed someone’s shoulder to cry on, he’d been there, like MeeMaw and PopPop. When she’d needed a lifeline, he’d pulled her up out of the depths.

  All Topher had ever done was respect her.

  He’d done more than that the night they’d been together. He’d loved her that night. He hadn’t said one word, but he’d been speaking with his heart.

  Micah was right. To get love, you give it. And how could she do anything but love Topher Martin, when he’d been loving her, silently and from afar, these last few weeks?

  * * *

  Topher took a shower and put on his best Tommy Bahama shirt before he drove all the way out to Jessica’s place.

  If it hadn’t been Sunday, he might have stopped at the florist shop for some roses or something. Although roses hadn’t really done the trick the last time he’d tried that approach.

  Her yellow VW bug wasn’t in the drive when he arrived at her house. He checked his watch. It was only nine thirty. Where the hell was she, anyway?

  And then it occurred to him that Jessica was exactly the kind of woman who went to church every Sunday. But which church?

  He had no clue.

  It would be hours before she got back, and that irritated the crap out of him. But he sucked back his annoyance.

  Maybe the universe was sending him a message about his lack of patience. Maybe the wait would do him good.

  So he got out of his car and took a long walk on the beach. Sand walking was tough, but it built muscle.

  What the heck was he going to say to her when she finally got home?

  He’d never been very poetic, and he was even worse at expressing his feelings. And if he managed to surmount both of those impediments, what the hell would he say?

  Would he just blurt out the words?

  That would be stupid. She’d laugh at him. She’d walk away. No. She’d run.

  There was no way to slice or dice this. He either manned up and said the words out loud or he forgot about the whole thing.

  Where was she? Had she volunteered to hand out coffee during fellowship hour? Or was she off doing something else?

  He hated the idea of her being off having fun while he was here pacing around like an idiot.

  But all of that angst was nothing compared to the way his heart pounded the moment her little yellow Bug turned into the drive.

  “Topher?” she said as she got out of the VW. God, she was so beautiful this morning, wearing a pretty pink dress, her changeable eyes on the blue side this morning.

  His mouth went dry and his hands went cold and every stupid word he’d rehearsed left his brain. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to love her. To keep her here. With him.

  If he ever spoke these words out loud, she’d run for the hills. She didn’t want to be possessed. And yet he wanted to possess her.

  She walked toward him in slow motion, a funny, unreadable expression on her face. What was that about? Last night she’d been so angry.

  But maybe not now. The thought gave him a wild and crazy hope.

  “I went looking for you at Rose Cottage.”

  “What?”

  “After church. I waited for almost an hour. I was worried that you might have decided to go back to your life in Columbia before the accident.”

  “Uh, no. I’ve been here since early. Waiting for you.”

  “You have?”

  “Look—” They both spoke at the same time.

  “You go first,” he said, ever the coward.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” she said, and then shook her head as if she had also been rehearsing a bunch of words. She took a deep breath and blew it out, her bangs lifting adorably. She truly was exactly like the spunky girl next door.

  “Let me start again,” she said. “I’m sorry for every bad thing I ever thought about you. All of it was wrong. Everything. You never judged me. You never lied about me. You never told stories about me. And I’m so ashamed that I thought those things about you. I want to apolo
gize for all of it.”

  “You don’t need—”

  “Yes. I do. I confused you with someone else.”

  “Who? Caleb?”

  “Yes. No. Yes.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I lumped you in with all those boys, Caleb included. So yes. But that’s not who I confused you with.”

  “No? Then who?”

  “I know this is going to sound crazy. But I confused you with my father.”

  The pieces of the jigsaw puzzle suddenly slid into place. Fred Blackwood had been a member of the Rutledge Raiders booster committee. And he’d been the typical high school football fanatic. And if Topher remembered correctly, her father had once played for the Raiders. “So you have a thing against football players?” he said.

  She shook her head. “No. Not that. It’s just that Daddy was…I don’t know, a man’s man. He was big and strong, and everyone admired him. And he cared about what people thought. He cared too much about it, really.”

  “I’m not like that, Jessica. I have always hated that hero worship. You can’t satisfy people when they start thinking you’re perfect. I took all sorts of crap from ’Bama fans when I wrecked my knee doing something other than football. For a whole year, I was the talk of the town around Tuscaloosa. I hated every minute of it.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that about you. I didn’t realize that you hurt your knee doing something other than playing.”

  “I tore my ACL on the ski slopes between freshman and sophomore year. I went down to South America after my father died, just to get away and to ski at Las Leñas. It was the middle of the summer, but I took a bunch of stupid risks because I was sad and hurt and angry…and alone.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He shoved his hands in his pockets feeling vulnerable. He’d never told anyone how little he cared about football. It had started out as something he did with Granddad, but it had morphed into something else. Something that had taken on a life of its own because it had given Dad so much pride and joy.

  But after Dad died, it didn’t matter so much. And he’d never liked being in the spotlight. Even when he’d been playing high school ball.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “the thing is, I never really cared what anyone thought of me.” He stopped, realizing that was no longer true. “Well, until recently,” he added.

  “Oh?”

  He hauled in a breath. “I care what you think. I care desperately.”

  * * *

  The poor man. Jessica didn’t really pity him in that moment—her heart was too full for that. No. She felt an overwhelming sense of remorse.

  She’d kept him guessing, hadn’t she? And he wasn’t nearly as confident as he pretended. And that night they’d spent together, when they hadn’t said a word, had been mostly because she was frightened and he was unsure.

  That needed to stop right now. She closed the distance between them until she stood right before him. He was so much taller than she was, and his eye was bright with the morning sky.

  “I’m so sorry for misjudging you.”

  He reached down and put his warm fingers against her mouth. “Hush, now. There isn’t anything to forgive. You were hurt, and you lashed out. I get it. I have been guilty of doing the same.”

  She gently took his hand away from her mouth, interlacing her fingers with his. “Maybe. But…the thing is…I don’t want to run away from you. I don’t want to run away from my hometown. I want to stay. Here. And I want to love you.”

  “You want to love me?” He seemed utterly surprised.

  “Yes. Because you’ve been loving me for all this time, and I was just a little slow figuring it out. So I’m really sorry about that. But can we, you know, start over?”

  “You love me?”

  “I do.”

  “I love you back. I—”

  She rocked up on tiptoes and smothered whatever else he was about to say. The man wasn’t great with words, but who cared? She knew now that he was a master at speaking with his heart.

  Epilogue

  A week later, Jessica found herself having a Cinderella moment. Dressed in an off-the-shoulder ballgown of pink lace and tulle, she put her hand in Topher’s and let him help her out of his BMW.

  Which wasn’t exactly a coach and four, but it did have leather seats. And she knew good and well that he was nothing like Prince Charming, even if he’d managed to pull the wool entirely over Granny’s eyes.

  Granny, who was up at the yacht club hobnobbing with the cream of Magnolia Harbor’s society for this Heritage Day ball, was probably crowing about how her granddaughter had landed a very rich man with a long and storied last name.

  Which was also a lie. Jessica hadn’t landed anything. She’d fallen into it. But Topher had given her a soft landing spot. Right in his arms.

  “Ready?” he asked, giving her his arm. He looked dashing in his tuxedo and eye patch, like some character out of a spy novel. Although she much preferred him in Hawaiian shirts.

  “Granny is going to say something about the color of my dress.”

  “Who the hell cares what she thinks? I think you look good enough to eat.”

  She blushed. “You do?”

  “Yes. And after we drink some champagne and dance, I intend to consume you.”

  “We’re going to dance?”

  “Yup.” He clipped the word as they headed toward the yacht club’s door, but before they could enter, Harry Bauman intercepted them.

  “Jessica, you look fabulous tonight.”

  “Thanks.” Her cheeks warmed again.

  “I saw you getting out of the car, and I wanted to intercept you before you heard the news from someone else. The City Hall design committee met last night, and we’ve narrowed down our selection to two firms. Blackwood Designs is one of them.”

  “What? Really? You’re kidding.”

  “There’s a lot of support for the idea of selecting a local architect. But since your company is so much smaller than the other competitors, we’re going to need a few more details before we make the final selection. I hope that’s not a problem?”

  “No. Not at all. Thank you so much.”

  Harry nodded and shot Topher a glance before he turned and headed into the party.

  Topher tugged her forward, but she resisted. “Wait a second. What was that look he just gave you?”

  “What?” Topher sounded suspiciously guilty of something.

  “Did you make a contribution to the building fund?”

  He stared up at the stars for a moment. “I might have. I mean, I’m living here now. I feel as if I should, you know, contribute. And besides, I want to make sure that Rose Howland’s letters and diary make it out of the vault in the library and into a display in the new museum. Especially now that everyone knows about them. I’m insanely proud of Jackie for winning a blue ribbon on his Heritage Day project.”

  “You don’t think your contribution had anything to do with my being selected?”

  He turned and faced her. “What if it did? Would you hate me? And besides, you haven’t won the contract yet. Sounds like the selection committee wants you to jump through a few more hoops.”

  “You can’t go around buying stuff for me, Topher.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head.

  “That’s no fun. I like spending my money. And I want to buy you things. Expensive things.”

  “I don’t—”

  “How about this?” He pulled a small red leather case from his suit pocket. He opened it to display a necklace studded with pale-pink rubies.

  “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can. Here, let me put it on you.” He took the necklace from the case and gave her an adorable look until she turned around for him. His fingers were warm against her nape as he did up the clasp. He leaned in and brushed a kiss there, which sent shivers of desire down her spine.

  “If I thought you were ready,” he whispered in her ear, “I would have bought you a diamond r
ing.”

  She turned and glared at him.

  He smiled back. “You’re not ready. But you’ll come around eventually. I just have to keep telling you how much I love and admire you.”

  He was right about that. It wasn’t his money or his name that she loved. It was him. He was kind and good. And she should let him buy her pretty things because it gave him joy.

  He gave her his arm, and she walked into the yacht club, where Granny was waiting, beaming as if Jessica had finally done something right for the first time in her life.

  Which was annoying in the extreme. Her inner rebel didn’t want to do anything that might please the grumpy old woman.

  But when Topher took her in his arms and danced her around the ballroom, letting her lead because his left side was still weak, she knew that she’d made the right choice.

  Even if Granny agreed with her.

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  Did You Miss the Start of This Wonderful Series?

  Jenna Fossey’s life is about to change. An unexpected inheritance and the chance to meet relatives she never knew existed has her heading to the charming little town of Magnolia Harbor. But as soon as she arrives, long-buried family secrets lead to even more questions, and the only person who can help her find the answers is her sexy-as-sin sailing instructor.

  Please turn the page for an excerpt from The Cottage on Rose Lane.

  Chapter One

  Was this her father’s boat? The one he’d been sailing the day he died?

  Jenna Fossey stood on the sidewalk, shading her eyes against the early-September sun, studying the boat. It was small, maybe fifteen feet from end to end. It sat on cinder blocks, hull up in the South Carolina sunshine, its paint blistered and cracked. Much of the color had faded or peeled away, leaving long gray planks of wood. Even the boat’s name had bleached away; only the shadow of a capital I on the boat’s stern remained. Some kind of vine—was that kudzu?—had twisted up the cinder blocks and crawled across the boat’s hull, setting suckers into the wood and giving the impression that only the overgrown vegetation held the pieces together.