Second Chance Summer

by Irene Hannon

  Bandit fell in behind Aunt El as she exited the bedroom while Rachel followed more slowly.

  Her aunt was right about one thing. Based on everything she’d seen so far, Fletch was the real deal—and while his rendezvous with Lisa today hadn’t been romantic, one of these days soon some woman was going to steal his heart.

  The sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach...the very same one she’d experienced when she’d spotted that little tête-à-tête at Fins...was easy to identify.

  It was jealousy, plain and simple

  Meaning like it or not, she was falling for Fletch.

  But he wasn’t going to hang around here a whole lot longer. In two or three weeks, max, he’d be heading north. And she wasn’t a fast mover.

  So where did that leave them?

  Bandit paused at the attic room door and looked back at her, as if to say, “If you drag your feet you’re going to get left behind.”

  An excellent point—and serious food for thought.

  * * *

  Fletch bit back a word he rarely used, jammed his phone into the holster on his belt and glared at the screen of his laptop.

  “Trouble?” Gram came through the kitchen door and stopped on the threshold.

  “Work problems. What are you doing up this late?”

  “It’s only ten-thirty. I was watching a cable movie in my room, but I’m about to turn in. What about you? Aren’t you tired after spending the whole evening hauling furniture to Francis House?”

  “More like aggravated after that last call.”

  “What’s up? Or is this one of those classified jobs you can’t talk about?”

  “Without naming names, one of my clients just received a credible threat and has gone into lockdown mode. They want me on-site to supervise security until the threat’s been neutralized. I need to fly out first thing tomorrow.”

  Before his afternoon date with Rachel.

  At this rate, they were never going to get any time alone.

  Gram tut-tutted. “Your clients certainly keep you hopping. Midnight conference calls, long hours, unexpected trips.”

  “That’s the nature of this kind of work. Will you be okay while I’m gone?”

  “Don’t you worry about me. I’m learning to adapt to this thing around the house.” She lifted her plaster-encased wrist. “And I can call Eleanor for a ride if I need to go anywhere. Besides, the doctor said today that I can ditch the cast in two weeks. Then you can go home and get on with your own life.”

  At one time, that would have been welcome news.

  Now, since leaving the island also meant leaving Rachel, the prospect was far less appealing.

  Gram opened the door of the fridge, extracted a soda and examined the white bags with the logo of the gourmet food shop he’d visited in Brunswick during her physical-therapy appointment.

  “What about your date with Rachel?”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  She shook her head and closed the refrigerator. “Such a shame. All that expensive food...maybe you can save some of it for the Fourth of July. You’ll be back by then, won’t you?”

  “I hope so.”

  “You don’t want to miss the holiday here. The fireworks are spectacular.”

  That was probably true...but he had a different kind of fireworks in mind, if all went well—an even bigger incentive to wrap up the trip ASAP.

  “I’ll do my best.” He started checking flight times. “Why don’t you eat the paté, though? I don’t think that will last five days.”

  “Paté? My, you did go all out.”

  He let that pass as he perused the airline site for the next available flight. 6:30 a.m. out of Brunswick, with a connection in Atlanta, was the best he could do. That would put him on the ground with his client by noon.

  Right about the time he was supposed to meet Rachel.

  Once again, he bit back a word Gram wouldn’t like.

  When he didn’t respond to her last comment, Gram tried again. “Rachel’s a very nice girl.”

  He looked up. She was struggling with the tab on her soda can, and he rose to join her. “Yeah, she is. Here, let me.” He tugged the can from her grip, pulled the tab and glanced at his watch as he handed it back. “Do you think it’s too late to call Eleanor’s house?”

  “No. I know for a fact she was going to watch the same movie I did tonight, and I doubt a young woman like Rachel turns in this early on a Friday night.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Try to get to bed at a reasonable hour.”

  Given his client’s emergency, that wasn’t likely.

  “I’ll wrap this up as fast as I can. Sleep well.”

  “I’d sleep better if your date with Rachel tomorrow was still on.”

  So would he.

  “Can’t be helped. But I’ll give her a call as soon as I book my flights for tomorrow and set up another date.”

  “In that case, I’ll let you get to it. Will I see you in the morning?”

  “No. I’ll be long gone before sunrise.”

  “Then have a safe trip—and hurry back.”

  As she disappeared down the hall, he returned to his laptop and made his flight reservations. Once that was taken care of, he pulled his cell off his belt and exited onto the patio. In light of all the matchmaking shenanigans Gram and Eleanor had been pulling, he wouldn’t put it past her to eavesdrop on his call.

  Propping one shoulder against the edge of her morning-glory-covered pergola, Fletch waited while the phone rang three times. Just as he expected it to roll to voice mail, Rachel’s breathless hello came over the line.

  “Sorry to call so late. I hope you weren’t sleeping.”

  “Fletch?” Surprise and a touch of—pleasure?—warmed her words. “No. I was still sorting through stuff for Francis House in Aunt El’s attic room. What’s up?”

  “As much as I hate to do this, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our date for tomorrow. One of my clients has an emergency and needs me on-site. I’m flying out at dawn.”

  She exhaled, making no attempt to hide her disappointment. He hoped that was a positive omen for their relationship. “There must be some kind of jinx against us getting together.”

  “I don’t believe in jinxes—and SEALs are nothing if not tenacious. We don’t let a few setbacks deter us from a mission. I’ll be back by Tuesday if possible, but no later than Wednesday. I hear they have great fireworks here on the holiday...and I’m in the mood for fireworks.”

  A beat of silence ticked by, and a smile twitched at his lips. If she wanted to read more into his comments about missions and fireworks, he wasn’t about to stop her.

  “Maybe we can reschedule after you get back.”

  “No maybes about it. In fact, let’s get something on the books now. Do you have any plans for the Fourth?”

  “Last year, Aunt El and I went to the beach and got hamburgers and funnel cakes for dinner, then watched the fireworks. We haven’t talked about it yet for this year, but I imagine we’ll do the same thing and that your grandmother will join us.”

  He plucked a spent blossom off the morning glory vine and rolled it around in his fingers. If Rachel had been nervous about a dinner date alone with him, she might also object to a cozy twosome on the beach as they watched fireworks, even amidst a crowd. It might be more prudent to play this safe—at least for the early part of the evening.

  “If that’s their plan, why don’t I join the party?”

  Silence.

  “Okay.” She didn’t sound all that thrilled about the notion of a group date.

  That was encouraging.

  “If I can get back sooner, I’ll call you. Sorry to do this twice in a row.”

  “I understand. Duty calls. Besides, lo
ok on the bright side. You’re off the hook from Francis House detail for a few days.”

  “There is that.” He watched a doe poke her head out from the wooded area behind Gram’s house and cautiously look around. “Think of me while you’re painting.”

  “I’m on the curtain-hanging crew this week.”

  “Better you than me. Although I wouldn’t mind juggling drapes if you were holding the other end. And I wouldn’t mind sharing another soda on the front porch.”

  A car backfired nearby. The doe froze, then leaped back into the woods and vanished.

  Careful, Fletch. You don’t want that to happen with Rachel. Keep things nice and easy...for now.

  When the silence between them lengthened, he spoke again. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  “Okay. Have a safe trip.”

  As they said their goodbyes, the clouds parted and the moon bathed the landscape in a silver glow. Once more the doe emerged from the woods, step by tentative step, ready to dart away again at the slightest hint of threat. Fletch remained motionless, and she finally relaxed enough to forage among the leaves and twigs along the perimeter of the woods.

  One wrong move, though, and she’d bolt—just as Rachel would.

  No way was he going to risk that. Yes, their time on the island was running out. Yes, he was inclined to accelerate things. But for once in his life, he didn’t care if a woman was GU. Because geographically undesirable or not, Rachel was worth any effort required to continue this relationship after he returned to Norfolk.

  And before he bid Gram goodbye, Fletch intended to do everything in his power to make sure Rachel felt the same way—even if that meant delaying a certain kind of fireworks long past the Fourth of July.

  But if nothing else, he intended to test the waters come Wednesday.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fletch wasn’t going to make it back for the Fourth of July.

  As rain lashed across the picture window in Aunt El’s sky room, Rachel watched the palm trees writhe in the wind. They didn’t look at all happy to be in the midst of a tropical storm.

  She could relate.

  The hurricane forming off the Florida coast might not be headed directly toward Jekyll, but no planes would be landing or taking off at the Brunswick airport anytime soon. And since it was already four o’clock in the afternoon, the odds that things would change by tomorrow’s holiday were nil.

  “Rachel? Are you up there?”

  At Aunt El’s summons, she moved to the landing and looked over the railing. “Yes. Watching the storm.”

  “It’s a doozy, that’s for sure. I’m glad I closed the shop at three. Have you heard from Fletch?”

  “No.” Despite her attempt to maintain a neutral tone, the word came out in a dispirited sigh.

  “Well, don’t you fret. I imagine cell service is disrupted. As for the weather, I can’t recall a Fourth of July where the Jekyll Island fireworks didn’t go off as planned—and Fletch’ll get back if he can, I guarantee it. You go ahead and watch Mother Nature throw her tantrum while I get dinner started.”

  As her aunt headed toward the kitchen, Rachel wandered back to the window. The beach where she and Fletch had first met—and later exchanged confidences—had disappeared beneath the churning, restless waves that were slamming against the huge boulders at the edge, sending spray flying.

  Could her emotions of late find a more perfect metaphor than that turbulent sea? And all the blame rested on a certain SEAL who’d walked into her life and heated up her annual chill-out trip, awakening feelings and longings that had lain dormant for three long years.

  Gaze on the horizon, Rachel pressed her forehead against the glass. The rain-streaked pane distorted the scene, much as grief and guilt had distorted her view of life for the past three years.

  She moved back, and the scene sharpened.

  Distance clarified—and restored perspective.

  And after weeks of disrupted sleep, heavy-duty soul-searching, and fervent prayer, she was beginning to regain perspective and see more clearly. The storm outside might be raging, but the storm within was at last diminishing.

  Because Deke’s wife was right.

  If you loved someone deeply, you wanted what was best for him or her. Had she been the one diagnosed with melanoma, she would have told Mark the same thing he’d told her—find someone new and love again. He would want her to create the family she’d always yearned for, not spend her life alone.

  Now, out of the blue, a man who might offer her a second chance at that dream had come into her life—and as Aunt El had pointed out in no uncertain terms, she’d be a fool to pass up this unexpected opportunity.

  So if Fletch began dropping hints about fireworks or pressing her for more dates once he came back, she wasn’t going to shy away.

  She was going to put her trust in God and see if this special man did, indeed, hold her future in his hands.

  * * *

  “Well, look who made it to the party after all!” Louise waved toward the parking area.

  Shifting around on the picnic bench, Rachel took in the scene over her shoulder.

  Fletch was weaving through the crowd in the beachside pavilion, heading straight for the two picnic tables Louise and Aunt El and several other members of their congregation had commandeered for the Fourth of July festivities.

  The slow smile he aimed her direction tripped her pulse into double-time, and she groped for an empty paper plate to fan the sudden warmth in her cheeks.

  As he joined them, everyone on her side of the picnic table scooted over to make room for him. Aunt El tugged her along, and he slid in beside her, his leg brushing hers.

  A spurt of adrenaline buzzed through her.

  He was close enough for her to get a whiff of his appealing aftershave.

  Close enough to feel the heat emanating from his skin.

  Close enough to see he was freshly shaved and that his hair was damp from a very recent shower.

  She fanned harder.

  “Have some lemonade, Fletch.” Aunt El leaned across her and set a plastic cup in front of him.

  “Thank you.” He raised the cup in salute, then lifted it to his lips and took a long swallow, giving Rachel a heart-stopping view of his chiseled jaw and strong profile.

  She tried not to stare.

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it.” Louise rested her cast on the table. “I’ve been keeping watch for the past two hours.”

  As Louise’s words registered, Rachel ripped her gaze away from Fletch and directed it toward the older woman. His grandmother had known he was on the way?

  “I almost didn’t.” He set the lemonade down and angled toward her, his leg once more brushing hers. Keep breathing, Rachel. “That’s why I didn’t call you. I didn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep or raise false expectations. I got as far as Atlanta late yesterday afternoon, right before Brunswick shut down. I hung out at the airport, hoping things would improve, but nothing moved this direction again until three o’clock this afternoon.”

  “You spent twenty-four hours at the airport?” Rachel examined the shadows under his eyes and the fine lines at their corners. No wonder the man looked exhausted.

  He shrugged. “I’ve had plenty of experience waiting in far less hospitable places for far less pleasant payoffs.” Giving her a discreet nudge that played havoc with her respiration, he took another swig of lemonade. “I considered renting a car, but the weather reports started to sound promising so I decided to sit it out and hope for the best.”

  “Things improved dramatically once the wind shifted. I knew they would. Jekyll Island fireworks haven’t been rained out once since I’ve lived here.” Aunt El broke off a bite of funnel cake and shoved the grease-soaked paper plate toward Rachel. “I’
ve eaten far more than my share. The rest is yours.”

  As Rachel inspected the pile of fried dough, Hank appeared at the end of the table and slid a plate with a burger and a mound of coleslaw in front of Fletch. “Saw you coming as I made my way back from the gent’s room so I took a detour. A man who’s been on the road for over twenty-four hours needs to eat.”

  Rachel canvassed the table. Did everyone except her know Fletch had been on his way back?

  “So how did everything go with that top-secret emergency of yours?” Louise reached across the table and broke off a piece of Rachel’s funnel cake.

  “Fine.” Fletch spoke around a huge bite of burger, waiting until he swallowed to continue. “We put in a lot of long hours, but everything’s back to normal now.”

  Aunt El sized him up. “No wonder you look tired. You should be catching up on shut-eye, not partying.”

  “On my agenda—after the fireworks.” He stopped wolfing down his food long enough to give Rachel a subtle wink.

  Another surge of heat warmed her cheeks, and she bent her head on the pretense of examining the remains of the funnel cake. While she might be open to exploring fireworks of a personal nature with Fletch, she’d rather keep that to herself until she had a better sense of whether this thing with him was going anywhere.

  “You don’t have long to wait. Another twenty minutes or so, tops.” Once more, Louise leaned sideways and peered past Rachel, toward the parking lot. “Here come Reverend Carlson and Susan. Yoo hoo!” She waved her good hand in the air.

  While Fletch demolished his burger, the minister stopped beside their table, arm in arm with his wife. “Happy Fourth of July to you all.”

  A murmur of best wishes rippled through the group while Susan surveyed the crowded pavilion. “I’m sorry I delayed us, Jim. The place is packed.”

  “The phone calls with the children were well worth a little hassle. We needed to finalize the plans for their visits. I’m sure we’ll find somewhere to perch for the fireworks. If not, I can always run home and get a couple of folding chairs.”