Love Everlasting (Isle of Hope series Book 2)

by Julie Lessman

  “So, do it, Jack,” Sam said quietly, his somber gaze so spidered with red it looked like a roadmap. “Bloody me, flatten me, and beat me to a pulp, because it sure can’t feel any worse than I do now.”

  Chase sighed as he braced both of Jack’s shoulders. “Go make some strong coffee, will you? And I’ll be right down while Sam cleans up.”

  “Ain’t enough soap in the world,” Jack hissed, scorching Sam with another look before he finally left the room.

  “You should have let him deck me.” Sam’s voice was barely a whisper as he dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped and head in his hands. “He needs the release … and so do I.”

  “Why’d you do it, Sam?” Chase slowly lowered to sit beside him, hands loosely clasped. “Over and above the bottle of scotch, what possessed you to reopen the wounds that almost destroyed Shannon’s life?”

  “How much do you know?” Sam whispered, the question hoarse with pain.

  “Everything. From Shannon’s painful past, to what went on here last night, till she cried herself to sleep early this morning.”

  Sam lifted his head, a sheen of moisture marring his gaze as he lagged into a lost stare. “Shannon is the world to me, Chase, everything I ever dreamed of … and everything I’ve never been. Clean. Pure. Untainted by my world, which in my mind has always been a cesspool, no matter how hard I try to dress it up. So when my buddies from college told me the truth about her …” His eyes met Chase’s. “I lost it. All I could think of was her sleeping with that slimeball professor, not giving a whit that she was destroying a marriage.”

  “She didn’t know,” Chase said quietly. “Not that what she did wasn’t wrong, because it was, but Jack told me the jerk lied to her. Told her he was divorced when he wasn’t.”

  Looking away, Sam slashed shaky fingers through his hair, his tone gruff. “Come on, Rev, Shannon’s one of the most brilliant women I know. She couldn’t figure out that a professor on campus is married? Even if she wasn’t smart enough to research it first, somebody had to tell her.”

  “Nobody knew.”

  “What?” Sam stared, brows in a bunch. “What do you mean nobody knew?”

  Chase stretched out his legs. “I mean it wasn’t a professor on campus; it was a visiting speaker from Stanford, highly regarded in his field.” He slid Sam a sober look. “He met Shannon during his visit and arranged to take a six-month sabbatical at her university. To do research, Jack said, but it’s pretty clear what that research involved.”

  Sam’s jaw dropped. “What a lying sack of—”

  “Yeah, he was,” Chase interrupted. “It appears he proposed just to coerce Shannon into intimacies, keeping her in the dark along with his wife and children.” His gaze drifted off like Sam’s had before while a nerve twittered in his cheek. “Jack said even as a little girl, Shannon was always so innocent and vulnerable, the twin who always did what her mother asked and always gave in to her sister. While Cat climbed trees and beat up boys, Shannon was the gentle dreamer who always played dress-up as a bride, longing for a fairytale marriage and vowing to save herself for Mr. Right.” Chase’s mouth twisted. “Only Mr. Right turned out to be Mr. Dead Wrong, a creep who managed to disarm both Shannon and her faith.

  “I didn’t know,” Sam whispered.

  “Of course you didn’t because gossip isn’t interested in the truth.”

  Sam peered up, both fatigue and regret etched in his brow. “What happened with the wife? I heard she went ballistic when she found them”—a knot ducked in Sam’s throat—“you know, together, and that she pulled a gun.”

  “That much is true, causing a huge splash in the papers when the wife trashed his apartment before taking potshot at her husband and Shannon in the quadrangle.” His mouth thinned into a hard line. “Right before she drove off a bridge, further exacerbating an already volatile and high-profile drama, which fortunately the wife survived.” Chase expelled a harsh breath. “But Shannon almost didn’t. She was so traumatized she fled and totaled her car on the way home, ending up in the hospital pretty banged up.” He flexed his fingers, barely aware he’d been clenching them while his gut cramped over the awful guilt and anguish Shannon incurred. “Jack said the entire mess triggered a year-long breakdown for Shannon, robbing her of the will to live. The guilt was bad enough, but the papers raked her over the coals so much, Jack said she’d wished she had died in that crash. Apparently she dropped out of school and slept most days for a solid year, little more than a zombie the entire time.” His jaw ached from clenching his teeth. “And all because of some sleazebag player who promised to love her forever.”

  Sam hung his head, arms limp over his legs, and when his shoulders began to shake, Chase realized he was weeping. “God forgive me,” he whispered, the sound as broken as the man.

  “He does, Sam,” Chase said quietly, “and so does Shannon.”

  Sam shook his head vehemently, voice harsh. “No, I don’t deserve it, and I definitely don’t deserve her.”

  “None of us do, man, which is why the grace of God is so awesome. Unmerited favor, Doc. Can’t earn it, can’t steal it, can’t buy it.” He laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder, a hint of jest in his tone. “Although God knows you’ve tried, more than any human being I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yeah, I have,” Sam said numbly, eyes glazed with moisture as he stared straight ahead. “‘Trappings,’ Shannon calls them, all those things I do and buy to make myself feel worthy.”

  Chase exhaled softly, grateful Sam had filled him in on his abandonment by his mother at a very young age. He paused. “Worthy enough so someone will stay forever?”

  Sam laughed, the sound bitter as he slapped at the wetness in his eyes. “Yeah, something like that.”

  Chase squeezed Sam’s shoulder before letting go. “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” he quoted, just saying the words out loud bringing a calm to his soul. “And He won’t, Sam, and I say that from hard experience. He never deserted me in the burnt-out hovels of Iraq when enemy fire was raining down, nor when snipers picked off my buddies like fleas on a dog. And you know what?” Tears stung the back of his lids as he thought of the irreplaceable friend who had tirelessly tried to teach him about faith. “Not even those buddies who knew Him,” he whispered, “because the moment a bullet stole their last breath, He became their next, standing right alongside to usher them into a world without hate and pain. A world that makes this one look like a trash heap, man, where all the abandonment, all the betrayal, all the sin of any kind, is burned away by the blinding beauty of His unfailing love.” Emotion grew thick in his throat. “A love that will never—just like our God—leave us nor forsake us.”

  “Love Everlasting …” Sam whispered, staring off into space once again. “Something Shannon talks about a lot.”

  “Because it’s something she discovered when she was in the bowels of hell, just like I did in the crossfires of Iraq, and like Jack did with his father and Lacey with hers. ‘I have loved you with an everlasting love,’ God said, which is the only thing we can really bank on in this life, Sam, the only thing we can truly put our confidence in. Not in things. Not in people. And definitely not in ourselves.”

  Sam grunted.

  “And you know the best part? Nothing you do or say can take it away. Nor anything anyone else does or says—nothing! ‘Neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God.’” He slapped him on the back and rose. “So. What are you going to do about Shannon?”

  Sam gouged at the bridge of his nose, eyes closed and a pained expression on his face. “Apologize if she’ll let me, although she hasn’t answered my texts or calls between the time she left last night and when I finally fell asleep.” He exhaled long and slow, as if letting everything go. “And then I’ll leave her alone, which is what she obviously wants.”

  “Do you love her?”


  Sam gave him a slitted stare. “No, Rev, I just sucked down a bottle of scotch and puked my guts out because I’m mildly attracted to her.”

  “You can be a real smart aleck, you know that, Cunningham?”

  “Humph. Can’t be too smart—I just blew it with the woman I love.”

  “So fix it. Spend some time on your knees—both with God and with her—then take it from there.”

  Sam shook his head. “I don’t know, Chase, she deserves so much better than me.”

  Chase slacked a hip with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t tell me we’re back to that ‘worthy’ whine again. Well, you know what? She does deserve better than you,” he said with a wry smile, “but I don’t plan to make a move because she wants you, lughead.” He took a sniff. “Although the way you reek right now, I sure don’t know why.”

  Chase hesitated, wishing for the briefest of moments that he was in Sam’s shoes despite the way that he smelled. “So treat her like the treasure she is, Sam, and be the man that she needs you to be. Which means no more drunks when things get too tough or lashing out at her when she falls from grace, because she will, man, like every single one of us. Just love her for who she is, not who you want her to be—just like God does with us.”

  He paused to draw in a deep breath, slowly releasing it again. “And above all else—never, ever take your hurt out on her, because hurt stabs blindly, Sam, but when it’s done—they’re not the only one bleeding.” Giving Sam a jostle with his foot, Chase ambled from the room, turning only when he reached the door. “And get a realllly hot shower, will you? Because right now, you stink a whole lot more than your life.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “Come on, Shan—you sure you don’t want to go to Cold Stone?” Lacey wiggled her brows. “Jack’s buying,” she said in an obvious attempt to prod Shannon to go out. She rose from the Adirondack chair between Shannon’s and Cat’s with a jut of her lower lip, the mournful wail of a loon underscoring her sad face as the shadows of dusk stole away the light of day. “You’ve been cooped up here for two solid weeks except for work and church, sweetie, and Cat and I both think you need to get out.”

  “Hey, guys, I am out,” Shannon said with a chuckle, arms wide to indicate the great outdoors where she’d been spending all of her evenings for the last few weeks. “I told you, Lace—I’m just taking some time to think and pray, kind of like a retreat.” She rested her head on the back of her chair with palms flat on its wide arms. “Besides, I like to watch the lazy roll of the river.”

  Cat chuckled. “And I like to watch the grass grow, sis, but preferably at Cold Stone. Come on, Lace, leave her be. She’s happy ‘communing with God,’” Cat said with a droll smile, the tease in her tone indicating she’d been around this mountain with her sister before. “She’s been assuring me all week that she wants for nothing right now.”

  “Uh …” Shannon shot her sister and sister-in-law a faint smile, waggling her brows like Lacey had. “Except maybe a cheesecake fantasy to go?”

  “Yes!” Cat pumped a fist in the air. “She finally wants ice cream again, which is definite progress. Even if it’s not the type of ‘fantasy’ I’d like her to indulge in.” She pressed a kiss to Shannon’s hair. “You want anything else, sis?”

  Sam Cunningham with extra sprinkles?

  “Nope, just the fantasy, please, and you’ll find me right here.”

  Indulging in a little fantasy of my own.

  “No doubt about that.” Lacey bent to give her a quick hug before following Cat to the ramp, tossing a wink over her shoulder. “And we’ll order yours right before we leave so it won’t be mush by the time you get it, okay?”

  “Perfect. Thanks, guys, I really appreciate it.”

  Sinking back into her chair, Shannon released a peaceful sigh, the sound of water lapping the shore working its magic, along with the shimmer of the river against a scarlet sky. An osprey glided over the fiery horizon, its graceful dance in natural rhythm with willowy grasses that swayed and shushed on the shore.

  Chin lifted, she closed her eyes to feel the caress of a sea breeze mingling with the salty scent of the marsh, and her rib cage expanded with gratitude for the God Who had set her as free as the osprey overhead. “Thank you, Lord, for your unfailing love,” she whispered, saltwater flooding her eyes like it flooded the grassy shores at high tide. Because she knew that although Sam had hurt her deeply, God had used it to bury the past. All of it.

  The pain of Eric’s betrayal.

  Her deadly, deep-seated need for approval.

  And the shame of losing that very approval from both God and her family.

  A single tear slithered her cheek as she relived Sam’s rejection that night, the loss of his approval the final blow to a stronghold that had held her in bondage far too long.

  Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.

  So for one week she’d done exactly what her mother said—praise and prayer—and in the process she discovered a freedom she’d never known before. A freedom she wouldn’t have known at all if God hadn’t used the pain of Sam’s rejection to reveal that her past was over and done. And in its place was a hope as bright and shiny as the dawn of a new day, where the God of Hope promised to give her a future and a hope.

  A future .... She opened her eyes to scan the heavens, listening for that Still Small Voice she so trusted to guide her. I need to know, Lord—will that be with Sam?

  She thought so. She hoped so. But she promised herself she’d give it time to think and pray, to make sure it was what God wanted her to do. Sam seemed to want it—he’d called and texted every day, begging to see her, sending her gifts, emailing his hopes for the future. But Shannon never responded directly, only through Jack, allowing vague assurances from her brother that his sister just needed more time.

  She spied the osprey soaring overhead once again and a soft smile lighted on her lips. The bird’s whistling call reminded her of a teakettle on the boil, and her thoughts suddenly leapfrogged to Sam. On the boil, indeed—her feelings for him steeped strong and too hot to handle. Her smile took a slide to the left. Which was exactly why she needed this time alone. She couldn’t think clearly when Sam was around, because one word, one moment, one kiss had a way of bubbling her emotions, causing good intentions to float away in a fog as quickly as the steam whistling from the teapot.

  And the truth was—this decision was too important to allow Sam to sway her in any way. She loved him with everything in her, and although the last month of dating had helped to assuage her fears about his prior “player” tendencies, she couldn’t help but wonder if one month was enough to know for sure? To base a future on? True, he no longer flirted with other women in her presence or even glanced their way, focusing only on her in a manner that made her blossom and bloom into the woman she’d always hoped to be.

  Cherished forever by the man that she loved.

  But forever was a very long time. Especially if a man didn’t accept you for who you were and belittled you for the things that you did.

  Or loved his “trappings” far more than his wife?

  Shannon absently nibbled her lip, worry lines crimping her brow.

  Or resorted to alcohol whenever things didn’t quite go his way?

  Rising from the chair, Shannon sighed, the wispy sound more in tune with the mournful call of the loon than the cheerful chatter of the osprey that soared high in the dusk. Her eyes scanned the heavens as she sought her answer, seeking the guidance of the only One she could truly trust. “So, what do you say, God?” she said out loud. “Is Sam the one for me? Will You give me a sign?”

  Silence reigned for several moments while Shannon closed her eyes, waiting for an answer. But the only thing she heard was the rising trill of tree frogs and the hoot of a faraway owl, obviously tuning up for the night. That and the husky clear of a throat.

  “Uh, if He doesn’t get back
to you right away, can I take a shot?”

  She spun around so fast, she almost tipped over. And might have, if not for Sam’s firm hands, which steadied her waist, but did absolutely nothing for her heart. It shot straight to her throat while her pulse took off in a sprint. “Sam!” she rasped, barely able to catch her breath as she splayed a trembling hand to her chest, “I didn’t hear you …”

  “I know,” he said quietly, his sheepish smile fading a lot more quickly than the prickles of heat searing her skin. “In fact, you haven’t ‘heard’ me at all, Shan—not my calls, not my texts, not my tokens of apology for a solid two weeks.” He offered a slight shrug, along with a repentant half-smile. “So I decided to plead my case in person.”

  She took a step back, arms crossed and cordoned to her waist like a barrier in an effort to maintain some calm and control. Please, Lord, lots and lots of control …

  As if sensing her withdrawal, he backed up as well, hands buried in his pockets while he stared at his feet. He peered up with a half-lidded smile. “Jack said you’re going to be published—is that the book you were ghostwriting?”

  She nodded, still unable to believe her name would be on the novel she’d just written. She had poured her heart into it—just like she had in her friendship with Sam—baring her soul in a story that so mirrored her own. Her heart skipped a beat. Only Princess Olivia and her former playboy had a fairytale ending …

  Shannon sighed, the joy of publication dimmed by her situation with Sam. “It seems both the author and her editor loved the book so much, they insisted my name be listed as co-author.” Her lips lifted in a tremulous smile. “Along with a contract for a book of my own.”

  His face lit up as he stepped forward, arms raised like he wanted to give her a hug. “Wow, Shan, that’s wonderful,” he said, quickly dropping them back to his sides when she withdrew a few more inches. “Sounds like a happy ending for both Olivia and you.” He slid his hands back into his pockets as if he didn’t know what else to do with them before his gaze gentled with hope. “I’d like to give you a happy ending, too, Shan,” he said quietly, “if you’ll let me.”