Love Everlasting (Isle of Hope series Book 2)

by Julie Lessman

  “Oh, right.” She hustled out, turning at the door with a salty smile. “Don’t worry—I’ll bring the tea before I go to Kroger.”

  “Mom, what am I going to do?” Shannon whispered after Cat left. “I love him even still.”

  Tess pulled her close, and Shannon rested her head on her shoulder. “Of course you do, darling. That’s the beauty of love gifted by God—it never fails.” She gave her daughter a squeeze. “But it’s also vulnerable to hurt, as each of us knows all too well. What Sam did, sweetheart …” She expelled a wispy sigh. “Well, it was wrong in every way—spiritually, physically, mentally, and emotionally.” She hesitated, grateful Cat had left the room because she’d never understand what Tess was about to say. “But … I have learned from a lifetime of doing wrong and being wronged, Shan, that the true path of love looks beyond our pain caused by others, to the hurt that caused theirs.” She softly skimmed her palms up and down Shannon’s arm. “And then,” she whispered, tears pricking over a lesson she’d learned so many years ago, “we have to look beyond their hurt to God’s. Because it’s His pain that makes it possible to forgive and love others the way He has called us to do.”

  “I know you’re right, Mom. I should have told him sooner and I meant to, I swear. But a part of me was so very afraid of this—his lack of respect, his disappointment, his rejection.” Her shiver rattled them both as she held onto Tess more tightly, the gouge of her fingers a true measure of her angst. “So very afraid I would lose his love.”

  “Oh, darling, I don’t think so.” Tess pressed a kiss to her tousled hair. “If anything, this will serve to strengthen it.”

  Shannon issued another grunt, and this time Tess allowed a smile, her head bent to her daughter’s while Shannon expelled a heavy sigh. “I don’t see how.”

  “Exactly,” Tess said with a soft chuckle. “Faith isn’t something we see, darling; it’s something we believe deep in our soul. And I promise you that when coupled with prayers of obedience, that beautiful blindness will open your eyes to all that God can do on your behalf. And Sam’s.”

  Shannon lifted her head to peer at her with questioning eyes. “How?”

  Tess’s low laughter rumbled in her chest. “From the lovesick look in Sam’s eyes over the last month, I imagine the truth of your relationship with Eric came as quite a blow.”

  “Ya think?” One edge of Shan’s mouth inched up. “The man puked on his shoes for heaven’s sake, Mom, and for Sam Cunningham, there’s no greater sacrilege than that.”

  Tess chuckled, easing the tension at the back of her neck. “The shoes’ll come clean, Shan, just like Sam’s heart after he sees the truth in the light of day. And when that happens—aided heavily by your forgiveness and prayer, mind you—the man addicted to designer clothes and expensive shoes will suddenly realize nobody’s perfect.” She gave Shannon’s waist a light pinch. “Not even the amazing young woman he’s put on that lofty pedestal.” She shifted to face her daughter. “Because you see, darling, it’s the truth that will set both you and Sam free to be all that God has called you to be, not Sam’s pie-in-the-sky idea that you’re the perfect woman. Trust me, I know.”

  It was Tess’s turn to grunt as she plopped back against the headboard. “When your father and I were first married, the poor, deluded man had me on a pedestal much as Sam did you.” The edge of her mouth hooked up. “Until I charred both that pedestal and too many meals to count. Year after year, my humanity kept chipping away at it, and when I put my job before him?” Her smile sobered into regret as her gaze trailed into a distant stare. “It cracked that stupid pedestal all together, tumbling both me and my marriage into an awful abyss.”

  Shaking off the malaise that always arose when she thought of Adam, she huffed out a cleansing sigh. “So you see, sweetheart, as I have told you countless times, as people of faith, we have a built-in insurance policy to cover all of our disappointments and pain.”

  Saltwater brimmed in her daughter’s eyes again, but Tess suspected these were tears of hope when Shan offered a wobbly smile. “All things work together for good for those who love God,” Shannon whispered, “and have been called according to His purpose.”

  Tess beamed. “And what are two of His purposes in a situation like this?”

  Shannon’s lips twitched with another smile. “Pray for them which spitefully use you and praise God in all things.”

  “Yes!” Tess punched a fist to her palm. “Because—”

  “It’s not God Who needs our praise,” Shannon interjected, “it’s us, since praise, prayer, and obedience unleashes the power of heaven.”

  “You were listening!” Tess said with a wide grin.

  Like the tide coming in, the saltwater dribbled down Shannon’s cheek to pool in the curve of her trembling smile. “Always,” she rasped, flinging herself into her mother’s arms until both of them could do nothing but weep. “I love you Mom.”

  “I love you, too, Shan,” Tess whispered, eyes squeezed tightly against the fresh flow of tears. “So very much!” She settled against the headboard again and patted Shannon’s knee. “So … what are you going to do?”

  Shannon’s sigh could have ruffled the curtains. “Well, first I’m going to praise God in this situation and ask Him to turn it around for my good and Sam’s. Then I’m going to pray that I can eventually forgive that sorry excuse of a boyfriend.”

  “Eventually?” Tess angled a brow.

  Shannon huffed out a sigh. “I will forgive him, Mom, I promise, but right now it’s just so raw, you know?”

  Yes, she knew. All too well she knew.

  “So I think I need some time to just pray and think about all of this, and especially get past the humiliation all over again.” She peeked up, eyes moist. “Sam made me feel so ashamed, Mom, that I don’t have the strength to even face him right now, even though he’s called and texted a dozen times since I left his house.” Her rib cage rose and fell. “And to be honest, I’m still so hurt and angry inside, I thought I’d give him a bit of the cold shoulder, just to let him stew for a while, you know?”

  “Stewing’s good …” Tess volunteered.

  Shannon stared out the window where the first shimmer of dawn spilled across her sill in subtle shades of pearl and pink “At least till I figure out what I really want. Sam may not want me anymore, but if he does, then I need to decide if I can marry a man who resorts to a bottle whenever he hits an emotional blip in the road.”

  “You’re a wise woman, Shannon O’Bryen.”

  Shannon peered up. “I have a wise mother,” she said with a misty smile.

  Squeezing Shannon’s hand, Tess rose while her stomach emitted a noisy growl. “Hey—you feel like breakfast? Or do you want to sleep in?”

  Shannon yawned, shimmying her toes under the covers. “I think I better get some decent sleep or forgiveness will be a lot further away,” she said with a wry smile, “but thanks, Mom, for everything.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart, and I’ll just check on your tea. If you’re asleep when Cat brings it up, I may just drink it myself because the calming effect will do me good. Especially if your sister is on her way to Kroger.”

  “Good plan.” Shannon’s grin was sleepy as she curled into a cozy ball. “G’night, Mom.”

  “Good night, Shan, and by the way, I like your plan too.” She gave Shannon a wink at the door. “Cold shoulder … warm heart.”

  Expelling a weary sigh, Tess closed the door and sagged against it with eyes closed, thinking she was way too keyed up to sleep now. “May as well have some tea too,” she muttered, startling when her eyes opened to see Ben standing at the end of the hall.

  “What’s going on, Tess?” he said in a gravelly tone, his morning voice always lower than normal.

  Her shock seeped out on a wavering sigh as she put a hand to her chest. “Good night, Ben, you scared me half to death!” she whispered, praying Davey didn’t wake up while she hurried down the hall.

  “Why are you up?” he a
sked, hair tousled as much as his well-muscled T-shirt and pajama bottoms while morning bristle shadowed his face.

  “Shan wasn’t feeling well, so Cat’s making her some tea.” She cupped a hand to his jaw, eyes tender as she brushed a kiss to his lips. “Today’s your day to sleep in, Ben, so go back to bed and I’ll fill you in later, okay?”

  Turning, she started for the stairs when he hooked her arm, all but bouncing her back. “Aren’t you coming? It’s not even light outside yet.”

  She stood on tiptoe to give him another quick kiss. “I don’t think so, babe. After talking to Shan, I’m wide awake, so I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

  Slipping his arms around her waist, he drew her in close, nuzzling her neck before he swooped her up to carry her back into their room. With a kiss that muffled her squeal, he kicked the door closed with his foot, his groggy voice way huskier than usual. “Who said anything about sleep?”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “I’m gonna kill him.”

  “Probably not,” Chase said to Jack with a wry smile, finger calmly pressed to Sam’s fancy doorbell. “That’s why you asked me along, remember? To ensure restraint?”

  Ignoring Chase’s remark, Jack pounded a fist on Sam’s front door. “Open up, Cunningham, you have some groveling to do—”

  “Settle down, O’Bryen,” Chase said in the military monotone he’d always employed to diffuse volatile situations. “Losing your cool won’t help anything.”

  “Wanna bet?” Jack delivered another bludgeoning blow, his lips clamped in a hard smile. “It’ll help me feel a whole lot better when I mess up his pretty face.” Cutting loose with a questionable hiss, Jack abandoned the front door to scrounge for the key Sam hid under one of his potted palms. “I don’t have time for this garbage,” he muttered, snatching up the key to rattle it in the lock.

  “Sure you do.” Chase strolled in behind Jack after he hurled the door open, quietly shutting it again while Jack stormed through the foyer. “Friendship is always worth the time.”

  Jack grunted, scouring Sam’s great room before tearing down the hall to the kitchen. “That remains to be seen. Cunningham?” His shout echoed in the hallway as he rampaged back to the foyer, threats ricocheting off the vaulted ceiling. “You’re going to pay for what you did to my sister, you blood-sucking lowlife.”

  He tore toward the staircase, and Chase halted him with a firm hand and a sober look on the second step. “We both agreed we’d handle this like rational human beings, Jack, who also happen to be close friends with that blood-sucking lowlife.”

  He shook Chase’s hand off. “You agreed, not me.” He started up the steps.

  “You agreed by inviting me along, Doc,” Chase said with a firm hook of Jack’s arm, “asking me to keep you from doing something stupid, so I am.”

  Jack paused on the second step, his scowl going flat. “Yeah, I know—what was I thinking?”

  Chase scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, that your temper might get the best of you, maybe, with a very good friend?” His smile veered toward dry. “No matter how incredibly stupid that friend has been.”

  Jack issued another grunt as he kneaded the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, well maybe his stupidity is catching because right now all I want to do is blacken his eye.”

  Chase nodded. “I hear you, man, but if you do that, I’ll have to blacken yours per your request to keep you in line no matter what, which I told you I’d be happy to do.” A slow smile curled on his lips as he slapped Jack on the back on his way up the stairs. “Biblically speaking, of course, as in an eye for an eye?”

  Jack winced as he followed Chase up. “That can’t be legal for a pastor,” he muttered.

  “Tough love,” Chase said with a grim smile. “Better than incarceration for manslaughter, dude.”

  Jack rubbed his neck. “Yeah, I guess. But you may have to remind me in a few seconds, ’cause just thinking about how Sam hurt Shan boils my blood, you know?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Chase said quietly, thinking Shannon had been through enough grief in her life from what Jack had told him; she sure didn’t need more from Sam, the guy who claimed to love her. He tamped down his ire with a press of his jaw. “Somebody you trusted hurt somebody you love. And not just anybody, but one of the most kind-hearted, gentle, and gracious human beings alive,” he bit out, suddenly wanting to take a swing at Sam himself. He slowed as he reached the landing, expelling a slow, arduous breath while he shot Jack a tight-lipped smile. “It’s downright scary how quickly emotions can boil over, isn’t it?”

  “Tell me about it.” Jack cuffed Chase’s shoulder as they strode down the hall to Sam’s bedroom. “Sam is my best friend along with you, Chase, so I gotta tell you, I’m more than a little shocked at how much I want to take a swing at the guy.”

  “I’m not.” Chase stared straight ahead, anger licking at the edge of his restraint. “Shannon is one incredible woman.”

  Jack paused outside Sam’s door to deliver a somber smile. “Thanks for caring about her like you do.”

  Chase never blinked. “I love her, man, as a friend. But I gotta tell you, Jack, if this bozo screws it up, I promise you right now, I have plans to love her as way more.”

  Jack smiled. “You’re a good friend, Chase.”

  “You’re darn right I am.” His smile flat-lined. “Or I would have fought you tooth and nail on Lacey, and Sam on Shannon too.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said, smile wry as he nodded to where Sam lay sprawled like a scarecrow corpse in the middle of his bed. “But do stop me from slapping Pretty Boy around if he gets on my nerves, okay?”

  Jack put two palms in the air. “Hey, no promises, dude, especially since there won’t be anyone holding me back.”

  Chase grinned. “Could get ugly, Doc.”

  Jack flashed some teeth of his own as he strolled into Sam’s room, ripping the sheet off his friend’s back. “No worries, Rev, I have a medical degree—I can patch him up after we dress him down.” He kicked Sam’s leg none too gently. “Hey, jerk—wake up!”

  Nothing.

  Chase ambled over to shake Sam hard. “Sam—wake up!”

  Still nothing.

  “I guess our boy had a little too much to drink,” Jack said with a wicked smile. “He’s probably dry, so I’d bet he’d like some water.”

  A slow grin inched across Chase’s face. “Good idea,” he said, heading for the door. “You scout out his bathroom, and I’ll scrounge in the one down the hall.” He strolled to the guest bathroom and found a tumbler that he filled to the brim with water. Striding back, he faced Jack on the other side of the bed with a crooked smile before leaning forward to sniff. “Smells like he needs a shower too.”

  “That’s a given.” Jack held a similar tumbler full of water over Sam’s body. “Thought about using toilet water,” he said with a dark smile, “since Ham has an unnatural aversion to dirty water from some childhood trauma, but figured I’d show him some mercy.”

  “Unlike he did for Shannon.” Chase doused a sudden flare of anger just like he planned to douse his good friend. Smile hard, he leaned close to Sam’s ear, which was the only part of his head visible beneath a feather pillow. “Sam,” he whispered, “would you like some water?”

  The pillow rose and fell in even rhythm, and Jack exchanged a grin with Chase before both unloaded their liquid stash like flood stage at Niagara Falls.

  A low moan sounded beneath the pillow as Sam shuddered, finally stirring like a man rising from the dead. A very wet and groggy man.

  Pelting the pillow off, Sam flopped on his back with a strangled sound between a gargle and a groan, black stubble peppering an open jaw. His rumpled T-shirt appeared to be stained with vomit, and his usually shiny black curls looked like they’d been combed with a Weed Eater.

  Chase caught a sniff of bottle breath and wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the meticulous Dr. Love quite so dishevel
ed before. Nor smelling worse.”

  “Yeah.” A gleam lit Jack’s eyes. “I say we take a picture for the bulletin board at Memorial.”

  “No way, Jack,” Chase said with compassion in his tone, “not until the man’s had a real good shower first.”

  A slow grin curled Jack’s lips as he bobbled the glass. “Good idea. See you in a few.”

  The second round of H2O did the trick, resurrecting Dr. Love with a curse that defiled the air, along with his breath. “What the—?” Sam opened his eyes—if slits can be considered open—and immediately sank back on the bed with a rusty groan. “Tell me I’m dreaming, please,” he said in a scratchy tone.

  “Wish I could, slimeball, but the nightmare you put my sister through is real enough, Cunningham, so get up because I’m just itching to knock you back down.”

  “Jack …” Chase’s warning tone did little to temper the fire in Jack’s eyes.

  “No, Rev, let him,” Sam said, regret riddling his tone while he laid flat on his back. “I deserve it.”

  “You’re darn right you do, Cunningham, so get up.”

  Sam started to rise, and Jack took a step forward with hands knuckled tight, looking for all his prior promise of restraint as if he were ready to pop Sam the moment he stood up.

  “Put the guns away, Jack,” Chase said quietly, blocking Jack’s way while Sam rolled out of bed with a groan. “We’re doing this the civilized way, remember?”

  “He doesn’t deserve ‘civilized,’ Chase, not after the way he wounded my sister.”

  “I don’t,” Sam said in a voice that sounded more like a croak, body swaying almost imperceptibly as he stood before them both with sorrow in red-rimmed eyes. “And I don’t deserve Shannon either,” he whispered, eyelids weighting closed as he ground the pads of his fingers to his temple. “I’m not good enough for her.”

  “You got that right, Cunningham.” Jack cauterized Sam with a hard glare, his body all but twitching with the need for retaliation.