A Discovery of Hope (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 3)

by Lowe, T. I.

  “Just where is he running off to?” I huff as I get up to peep out the window. “That man is never going to change. Would it hurt him to let me know where he’s heading?”

  Hope giggles. “Go check your door.”

  I unlock and open the door, finding a note taped on the other side.

  Gone to help Lucas close up the restaurant. Be back shortly. Stop talking to yourself and get some rest. ~JP

  This beckons a laugh from my angel and me. We stand here giggling like silly girls.

  “It’s your fault my friends think I’m loopy.” I close and lock the door back. “I wonder why he wanted me to lock my door.”

  “That’s him trying to establish and respect boundaries with you. I find it quite honorable. Now, do as he said. Stop talking to yourself and get some rest.” She smiles warmly before fading away.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sleep evaded me most of the night from not being able to get JP out of my head. Yesterday kept playing through my mind like a long, repetitious movie reel.

  What a day it was…

  The dawn is only starting to submit to the new day, but I’m giving up on rest. I need coffee—now! I take care of my teeth and hair in the bathroom before I peep my head in the hall. JP’s door is ajar, so I peep in there, too. I’m surprised to discover the bed empty and made. I guess I wasn’t the only one with sleep issues last night.

  There are no signs of him anywhere, so I give up and pad into the kitchen. Much to my relief, a new bag of coffee sits on the light granite counter along with a note. Your favorite creamer is in fridge. I know it’s a simple sentence, but it means a lot to me that JP’s been paying attention to me enough to know my coffee preferences. The coffee choice is more evidence. Although he likes to pick on me about my caramel flavored coffee creamer, he appreciates I like a dark roast coffee. Coffee should taste like coffee—not water—with a hint of caramel.

  Unable to wipe the smile from my face, I set the coffee to brewing and fish around the cabinets for a mug while I take in the tidy space. It’s very organized and clean. I know he only visits on weekends, but the place doesn’t have an abandoned vibe at all. It’s obvious he lives here just as much as he does in Charleston.

  I pull out the creamer and prepare me a delicious cup of coffee. Standing at the counter, I inhale the rich aroma before taking a cautious sip to prevent scorching my tongue. As the silky warmth reaches my throat, I’m already feeling more awake.

  The beach is unveiling itself more as the sky lightens up, and I can’t resist heading out onto the deck to enjoy my coffee. I love that his place is right on the beach. After settling into a lounge chair, I scan the horizon and quickly spot a figure in the water. I let him have his privacy until my first cup is drained, but then I hurry inside and grab my camera.

  My suspicions are confirmed when I point the camera over the water and witness JP pop up on his surfboard. My finger automatically presses down on the shutter and doesn’t let up until he’s ridden the wave to its end. He is definitely in his element. The ocean seems to calm him. I focus the long lens on his face and rapidly capture him some more. This continues until he begins to descend towards the shore. Not wanting to be seen, I slip behind the privacy fence and continue to fire the camera in his direction. I zoom in on the bite that looks to be a little angry from yesterday and capture it. JP keeps sweeping his hand over it absently as though he’s recalling the incident.

  Plopping the board on the shore, JP hitches his black board shorts a little higher on his narrow hips before sitting on top of it. With his back towards me now, I ease back out and angle for more shots. He seems lost in his thoughts as he gazes out over the ocean. Every so often, he treats my camera by running his hand through his damp locks or stretching his arms out to his sides as though he’s working the kinks out of his shoulders. I finally feel I’ve captured him enough, so I lower the camera and just observe with my own eyes and heart. He’s captured both so forcefully.

  JP isn’t wearing those nicely fitted wetsuit pants he wore that surf day in Charleston, but the loose board shorts are just as appealing. Over the summer, I’ve noticed his wardrobe is void of most color—typically blacks, dark blues, white, and greys. The shirts are always free of any logos. He conveys a simple unassuming vibe with his plain shirts, jeans, and black Converses, but this man doesn’t have me fooled. JP Thorton is the most intense and intriguing person I have ever met. He does nothing halfheartedly.

  I know he struggles to rein in his emotions and have witnessed firsthand him trembling with anger as well as with passion. I was there yesterday when the dam of his grief broke and poured out of him violently. I have no idea how long he’s been suppressing that, and to be honest, it scared me. The man didn’t just weep, he sobbed violently with abandon. I have a feeling as I watch him now that he may be still coming to terms with it himself. Yesterday was pivotal.

  I’ve invaded JP’s private moment long enough, so I leave him for another cup of coffee. This time, I sit at the small kitchen island until he eventually makes his way onto the deck. I watch as he grabs a towel off a lounge chair and starts rubbing it along his body and then through his hair. Draping the towel over his broad shoulders, he heads inside.

  Clearing his throat, he says, “Hey.”

  I gift him a warm smile in hopes it will dissipate the awkwardness. Thankfully, it works because his face relaxes into a smile of his own.

  “Good morning.” I raise my cup. “Thanks for the coffee and creamer.”

  “Only the best for my Hawaiian Mama,” he says smoothly before grabbing himself a cup. Black. It’s how he takes his coffee. I’ve paid attention as well.

  The bite-mark is peeking out from the edge of the towel, drawing my eyes to it. A perfect impression of my teeth is marring his flawless skin.

  I keep my focus on it as I apologize. “I don’t know what came over me… JP, I’m sorry for that.”

  I guess he’s followed my eyes because his fingers sweep over the wound. “I’m not. You opened my eyes yesterday.” He pauses with a long sigh. “Willow, I really needed them opened. It’s well past a decade overdue.” Easing around the counter, JP gently places a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you.”

  I give in and run my hand along the slightly serrated mark and shake my head. JP captures my hand and firmly presses it to the bite. Sitting his cup down, he bends to align our lips and slowly kisses. He tastes of coffee and ocean and I think this flavor combination could be addictive. He knots his left hand in my hair to deepen the kiss. I’m grateful he’s left-handed, because his grasp is always on the opposite side of my scar. That’s still too personal to share, and I can’t help but be self-conscious about it. He would probably equate the talking to myself, the biting, and the long slash on my scalp with me being unstable and go running in the opposite direction. I wonder why he doesn’t do that now. These thoughts bring me back to reality so I pull away from him.

  JP obliges me by ending the kiss, but doesn’t let go. Dropping his face to the crook of my neck, he asks, “You want to go to church with me this morning?” He skims his nose along the sensitive spot behind my ear, provoking a shiver.

  “Okay,” I manage to croak out.

  Leaving a tender kiss in that same sensitive spot, JP releases me, grabs his coffee, and saunters towards his room. “We’ll leave in an hour, okay?”

  “Okay,” I croak out again. There’s no hiding how much he affects me. JP keeps stating he’s the one in trouble, but I’m certain I’m in the same boat.

  A lively choir opens the services at Bay Creek Baptist Church with several joy-filled hymns. It’s Miss May’s home church and all of the Thorton kids attend at her request. JP filled me in on the drive over that when Miss May speaks, they all listen. I think it’s quite sweet. She’s obviously their mother figure.

  As I settle into my pew, I look over at the white-haired lady now as she rocks little Bradley to sleep. Witnessing this, causes me to long for my own momma—the momma I knew before last su
mmer—the one that was always there without question—the momma I took for granted, never thinking things could change, but they did and I’m still struggling to come to terms with it.

  I shake the dejected thoughts off as I scan the packed sanctuary. JP misinterprets my action for a sign of me being chilled so he wraps his arm protectively around my shoulders. I have one of my loose long dresses on today that’s so long it skims along the floor, along with a light cardigan. I’m not cold, but I lean into his embrace as though I am seeking more of his warmth.

  I glance over at him and my breath catches at how stunning he is in a dark midnight-blue suit. The man cleans up real nice. His blond hair is in perfect disarray as always, but he’s done away with the stubble that normally accentuates his strong jaw. He’s forgone the tie and has left the top two buttons open on his white dress shirt as though this is his small rebellion to dressing up.

  I have to admit, the Thorton crowd, which consists of the sisters and their spouses, JP, Duke with his purple hair, Sammy, and Bradley, really sticks out. They quite literally pale in comparison to the rest of the dark-skinned congregation, but they all seem at home.

  I’m sitting here in contentment when the preacher gets my attention. A smile blooms on my face as I listen to him quote none other than 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. I meditate on each word.

  “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

  Last night these words beckoned forth my feelings for JP, but today the exact same words cause me to consider my mom, and more importantly my attitude towards her. I’ve not been patient with her and I have kept a record of her wrongs. I’ve played judge to my mother and have not considered her enough in the whole ordeal. I don’t think I will ever be over her leaving, but I need to put the record of it away.

  With a constricting throat, I try to swallow the emotions threatening to surface and say a silent prayer, asking God to forgive me and help me get over the hurt so I can respect my mom the way He intended.

  ~~~~~

  The worship service is long, but zooms by in an excitement I’ve not witnessed much in a service. I’m becoming more open to the idea of the various churches, not in the way of buildings, but atmosphere. Whether it is a park with only a dozen members, a large coliseum with thousands, or a cozy sanctuary with a few hundred, the key to worship is the same—Jesus is the only way, and the Bible in its entirety is the roadmap.

  JP informs me after the service we are heading straight to his family’s restaurant for Duke’s party, but I’m confused when he parks at a beach access lot down the road.

  He opens my door and ushers me out. “I thought the party was at the restaurant?”

  Grabbing my hand, JP sets out down the road. “It is, but we can’t park there.”

  “Well, why not?” This makes no sense to me.

  “Because people around here will show up at the door begging for food, if they think anyone is around. I guarantee we will get a few unexpected guests today anyway. Savannah has only started closing on Sundays in the last few years and people still don’t take too kindly to it.”

  As we get closer, I notice cars lining the street yet the parking lot sits abandoned. I know his family is trying to pull off this party in secrecy, but I’m pretty sure they are failing. We enter the back and I’m immediately assaulted with all kinds of delicious aromas. If I thought this was a small intimate family gathering for Duke, I was completely mistaken. The place is packed with jovial guests, and I’m surprised to find the dining hall decorated with silver balloons and streamers. Duke’s paintings are scattered about on easels and they don’t seem to fit with the feminine party décor. I spot a large Eiffel Tower statue about as tall as me in a corner and it’s illuminated with twinkling lights. I ease over and find cards of well-wishes and money attached to it.

  “Julia is trying to embarrass me today,” Duke says over my shoulder.

  I turn to face him. “Why’s that?”

  He waves his hand towards the tower and all around. “This is all her doings.”

  “She’s proud of you. And so am I, so suck it up and enjoy yourself.” I wrap my arms around his waist and steal a quick hug before a group of guys haul him away towards the abundant buffet.

  The place falls silent as Lucas blesses the food. His quiet prayer of thanking God for blessing Duke into his life and then asking God’s protection for his son as he sets out on this journey chokes me up. Lucas only says a handful of words in the prayer, but each one is deliberate and meaningful and draws forth an echo of sniffs from the crowd as they try to rein in their emotions as well. There’s no doubt about it. Duke Harris is one loved man.

  Lucas says, “Amen. Now let’s eat.” And he doesn’t have to say it twice before the crowd navigates towards the buffet.

  JP grabs hold of my hand and places us in line alongside Greyson and Julia. She’s going on and on about the studio apartment they found through an online realty company and how she’s already ordered furniture, but Duke cancelled it. She’s aggravated, but all I can do is smile over the fact that my friend has so many people willing to take care of him.

  “He says it’s too girly. Whatever that means.” Julia flicks her prissy hand in the air.

  “It was too girly. Let the guy pick out his own furniture. You’re always trying to emasculate the whole crowd of u,” Greyson says, giving her a pointed look.

  “It wouldn’t hurt to take all the testosterone down a notch or two,” she sasses back to her husband.

  “You already pansied up his going-away party. Cut the dude some slack,” JP pipes in.

  They bicker back and forth until we reach the plates at the beginning of the buffet. Greyson takes the lead and without asking Julia’s permission, begins piling an assortment of seafood on her plate.

  “I can make my own plate, Mr. Caveman.” Julia tries to pull her plate away from Greyson and he actually lets out a growl, sounding like a caveman. She gives in and lets him load her down with more food than she could possibly eat. I notice she’s not rail-thin as she used to be, but she is still considerably skinny.

  JP allows me to make my own, so I’m guessing that is just a Greyson-Julia thing—thank goodness. We claim the table near Duke, Savannah, Lucas, Sammy, Miss May and a few of her family members. I’ve noticed this weekend how Duke always lingers close to Savannah. He may not call her mom or Lucas dad, but the respect and love is evident. And there’s no hiding how crazy Savannah and Lucas are about their three sons.

  Duke offers me a flirty wink as we pass, and JP punches him in the arm. They are definitely more like rowdy brothers than Uncle and nephew. I think this has become a game between the two—flirt with Willow and try not to get caught and punched.

  We all sit down and dive into the tasty meal. Well, all of us except Julia. She mainly picks at her food. I almost swoon, though, as I witness her accept bites Greyson offers her from his fork every so often during the meal. It’s such an intimate, loving gesture—him taking care of his wife. I want to pull my camera out of the case and capture this, but my hands are slightly greasy.

  As the plates empty, the area begins to swell with the sounds of beach music. I crack up laughing when an older lady pulls my purple-haired friend to the middle of the cleared floor and they set out in the Carolina Shag. He’s so large and brawny compared to her grey-haired petite self, but boy can Duke cut a rug with her. This dance is languid and smooth and I’m utterly surprised that he even knows this one. It’s an old traditional dance that is famous along the Grand Strand.

  “All right, sweetheart. We gotta show them up.” JP pulls me to the makeshift dancefloor.

  “I don’t know how to Shag.”

  “I’ll lead. You’ll do fine,” he says confidently as he places me before him. Ho
lding my right hand with his left, JP widens the gap between us and easily sets out with the steps. Watching his feet for several beats, I finally get the hang of it. My dance partner twirls me occasionally and we dance leisurely as The Embers sing “I Love Beach Music” with JP singing along.

  “Okay, buddy. Spill the beans. How do you and your family know these songs and this ancient dance?”

  “This dance isn’t ancient, and we were raised listening to this music. My dad would break out dancing with my mom all the time. It was their thing, and all of the parties here have always included this.” JP twirls me out again to emphasize his point.

  The floor crowds more and we dance the afternoon away until Miss May presents Duke with a massive purple cake and everyone tucks into the dessert spread that seems to materialize out of thin air. As we finish up, I’m surprised again, when an auction for Duke’s paintings begins. I glance over and find him shocked as well. The auction is declared the Duke College Fund and people take it seriously, too. The bids skyrocket to obscene amounts and by the end, I have succeeded in snatching two of his masterpieces for my own.

  Duke meets up with me as I go to claim the large painting of the seashore. I can already see it in the dining room at the beach bungalow. I think JP will approve. The other is a gift for my mom. It’s a simple silhouette of a woman’s leg peeking from the edge of a wingback chair. The draw to the art piece is the stiletto on her dainty foot. It closely resembles the leopard print Louboutin peep-toes with the signature red sole my mom owns. Julia started bidding against me until JP pinned her arms down. Greyson just sat there and laughed at the two siblings wrestling around while I jumped up and down with victory. I purchased it with the idea of really working on my reconciliation with my mom. Not out of duty, but out of want. I want my mom in any form I can take. I’ve changed and I need to accept that she has also changed.

  I smile approvingly at my friend as I claim my loot.