She was sure he was only being polite, trying to keep her warm because she’d shivered, not for any reason having to do with physical attraction. That whole southern gentleman thing. He’d do it for anyone, she was quite certain.
Although, she’d picked up on several clues throughout the day that seemed to indicate he was interested in getting to know her. That he even thought she was attractive. He’d complimented her several times, hadn’t he?
Or was that part of southern courtesy as well? Darn, she was out of her league!
“Thank you for the body warmth. I think the walking has warmed me up now.”
He immediately dropped his arm and continued walking, keeping a respectable distance. She looked over at him and although darkness prevented her from seeing him clearly, she detected a grin on his face.
Maybe it was the darkness that gave her courage that bright sunlight wouldn’t have. Maybe it was the fact she was so inexperienced as a newly single woman. Maybe it was being so many miles away from home. But that split second, she made up her mind. She’d be totally honest with him and let the repercussions fall where they may. Or come crashing down, as it were.
“Hank.”
“Yep?”
“I have no idea what I’m doing.”
He chuckled. “You want to narrow that down for me?”
She looked straight ahead and concentrated on lifting one foot after another from the sand. “I’m recently divorced.”
“Mmmm. I wondered. I mean, what your status is.”
“You did?” She darted a glance at him but he chose that moment to look toward the houses they were passing. She made out a glimpse of his left ear.
“Yeah, you know, just curious. You’re traveling alone and all.”
“Oh.”
“And you don’t wear a wedding ring.” He said it as though hesitant to reveal his observation, however if she was being completely honest, he must have figured, why not follow suit?
“You noticed that?”
“Sure.”
Leslie nodded and walked, the waves pounding in and out provided a powerful sound as a backdrop. “I was married for twenty years. Until a few weeks ago. It’s over.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. Then, “I’m sorry.” A few steps later, “The man’s a fool.”
Leslie chuckled. She had to admit it felt good. With the strength of the darkness providing uninhibitedness she wouldn’t normally possess, Leslie came out with it. She talked about the bleak, empty summer stretching out in front of her. She told Hank about her decision to turn her back on her life temporarily, to let God send her where He wanted her to go.
And she told him about the adventures God had sent her on already, about Deakon and Norman Foster and Joan Lundeen. About Rita and Nathan and the struggles of a family adjusting to life without Dad around to share the burdens. And about Evelyn Fletcher and Carla and the rest of the church ladies who met every month to make and deliver warm blankets and caps to the babies born at Levine Children’s Hospital. She told him about Carson, the preemie baby who would wear her own imperfect creation when he was up to it.
As she spoke, the waves provided a soundtrack and the lights in the houses along the beach went out, one by one. Hank took her hand and pulled her over to a log to sit. After a rest, they wandered back in the direction of the inn. By the time they reached it, Leslie was done. Without hesitation, she’d shared so much with this man she’d known since this afternoon. She felt vaguely exhausted.
As they approached the inn’s back porch still brightly lit inside, her natural inhibition returned. What had she put this poor man through? Long minutes – she caught sight of a clock hanging on the wall inside the porch and was amazed to learn it was close to midnight – no, hours of revelation. Had she bored him? Made him want to turn tail and run as fast as possible, but was too polite to do it? Would he deposit her in the inn and be glad for his escape route, never to return?
Before she could apologize, he brought her to a stop outside the porch, her face lit by the glow of the distant light as it penetrated the dark. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her till she faced him, then he lowered his head and placed a kiss on her forehead. And he lingered there. Leslie let her eyes close and she soaked in the heat shimmering off his body, warming her in their closeness. She inhaled his scent, some kind of masculine combination of soap and musk cologne. He pulled away and she looked up to meet his eyes, happy that he seemed to want to be there.
“I’m glad our paths crossed today,” he said. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much.”
She let her eyes rest on his face. He was a picture of contentment.
“Just so you know, it was uncharacteristic of me to reveal all that personal stuff to someone I barely know. I can’t imagine what came over me. I apologize for keeping you so late.”
His lips pushed out a nonverbal objection to her apology. “I enjoyed it, every minute. You needed to talk about it, and I was happy to listen.”
“You’re a good listener.”
“And you’re an amazing woman.” The volume of his voice reduced almost to a whisper, enough that she wondered if she’d understood him correctly. But his normal tone returned and he went on, “I’m going to say good night, sleep well, and I will see you again soon.”
“Good night, Hank.”
He slipped into the screened porch and through the doorway that led to the front of the inn. She watched him go, trying to recall the feel of his lips on her forehead and his scent in her nostrils.
Back in her room, she undressed and prepared for bed. Under the sheets, she said a silent prayer of gratitude for the events of the day, for her safe arrival at the beach, for her discovery of The Old Gray Barn and the Seaside Inn. She said a special thank you for meeting Hank. After she’d said amen and started to drift off, a revelation floated through her mind. She needed people too. Not only had God used her to help others when they needed her, He also knew what she needed and was watching out for her.
Chapter Seven
As far as Leslie was concerned, her vacation officially began today. So, she slid into her favorite vacation behavior.
She slept without setting the alarm. Leslie peeked at the clock once, and seeing it was 6:19, she sighed in unhurried relief and slipped back to sleep, waking again at 8:24. A very respectable time to wake on a leisurely beach vacation.
She fluffed her hair with her fingers, brushed her teeth, rubbed some lotion on her face and dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. No shower or makeup required. Leslie made her way to the back sunroom and helped herself to coffee and a muffin. Then she tiptoed barefoot down the wooden boardwalk to the chairs facing the ocean. The day had dawned sunny and clear, and although the sun hadn’t reached full strength yet, she predicted it would be a beautiful beach day.
She enjoyed her small breakfast with her toes dug in the cool sand, her eyes soaking in the scenery and her ears taking in the sounds of the surf and the seagulls overhead. Her thoughts wandered to the day before. Unbidden, she replayed in her mind her meeting Hank at the Barn, and sure enough, her heart rate increased during the reminiscence just like it had in real time. She shook her head, and berated herself for acting and feeling like a young woman. She had no business getting giddy about a man, particularly at this stage of her life.
She stood, shaking her arms and legs out, and rested her empty mug in the seat of the chair. She needed a little exercise to give her mind something else to focus on. Loosened up, she headed down to the water’s edge for a walk.
The first ten minutes or so, she luxuriated in a slow stroll, then picked up the pace. She flexed her leg muscles, working her feet in and out of the sand and pushed herself to move. She’d never been a runner but she understood the value of exercise, both from a physical and mental health perspective. As she pumped her arms and motored her legs through the sand, her heart pounded and her breathing came heavier.
When she’d gone as far as she thought she possibly could, sh
e set a target two house lengths away, and kept going. Her leg muscles screaming, her chest heaving, she reached the targeted spot, and plopped into the sand on her back, arms and legs out, eyes closed, a big smile of achievement covering her face. Her huffing slowed as her heart rate regulated and eventually returned to normal.
She pushed to her feet, wiping off the sand and strolled back to the Inn. Grabbing her cup, she deposited it on the porch and headed for her room. After a shower, she applied sunscreen, put on a swimsuit and cover up and returned to the beach. She spent the better part of the day lying in a lounge chair under an umbrella, reading a book and occasionally dipping in the ocean. This stretch of beach wasn’t known for big, crashing waves. Its softer rolling waves were a perfect fit for Leslie and she could float on her back, rolling gently with the surf.
When she called it a day, the sun was deep in the west. She yawned, relaxing hours causing the illusion of exhaustion. On her way back through the living room, she added her name to the dinner reservation list.
At 6:15, she entered the dining room, famished for the delicious dinner she knew would follow. Marianne sat her with a family of three and Leslie enjoyed her conversation while eating the most delicious barbequed spare ribs, cornbread and greens she’d ever had. Topped off by a peach cobbler with ice cream, she rolled back to her room and spent the remaining evening hours watching a few sit coms on television. She turned the light off at nine thirty and sank into a dark, restful sleep.
The next morning, she called Jasmine. She caught her daughter as she was entering a Parisian underground metro station.
“Hi Mom. I’m rushing off to an appointment and I’m not sure how the reception will be under here.”
“Oh, that’s okay, honey. You can always call me back later. I wanted to hear your voice. You doing good?”
Her tinny voice echoed and Leslie could picture her walking down cement steps into an enclosed station. “Better than good, Mom. I love it here. I’m learning so much, it’s insane.”
Leslie smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m sure you’re doing great.”
“Good stuff for the resume. How about you? Where are you now?”
“I’m in Pawleys Island, South Carolina. I’m staying in a cute place called the Seaside Inn. It’s just what the doctor ordered. Beautiful beach, great weather.”
“It’s – hear you are so – deserve to be –“
Leslie pressed her cell phone closer to her ear. “Jaz? Can you hear me? You’re breaking up.”
A crackling followed, then she heard, “—have to go, but did you hear from Dad?”
“Your dad? No, why?”
Crackle, crackle, “ – wants you to call him. – has something to tell you.”
The connection died and the reception went silent. Leslie mused over the limited conversation. Her baby was deliriously happy living her dream, and that filled Leslie with joy. But Tim was trying to get a hold of her, and that filled her with dread. What did he want? It had to be about the house, what else would it be? Despite the fact she didn’t want Tim’s voice to interrupt her idyllic vacation getaway, now that she knew he wanted to talk, her thoughts would be monopolized with wondering why. So she bucked it up and called him.
“Dr. Malone.”
“Hi Tim. It’s Leslie.” She smirked at his hesitation. By design, she’d identified herself by name even though it wasn’t necessary. Because of their long history together, she had no doubt she could give him a single syllable – “hi” – and he’d know exactly who was calling. But that was a deeper level of intimacy than this man deserved now. She was no longer intimate with him or his life. Therefore, she’d treat him like she would any other business partner. Because that’s exactly what he was now – a partner in two things – getting Jasmine through college, and selling the house. And that was all.
“Oh, hi. How are you?”
Did it matter how she was? No, she decided. Again, strictly business. She avoided his question. “I spoke with Jasmine and she told me you were trying to get a hold of me.”
“Oh, uh, yes. I got some feedback from the realtor. Several potential buyers have been through the house, and nobody’s placed an offer yet. The realtor asks why, and it always comes down to the same few items.”
“Mm hmm.”
“Don’t worry, they’re not major items. The carpet’s old and worn out. A new flat carpet in a neutral color would do wonders in helping people envision themselves in the house. Oh, and the blinds.”
“What’s wrong with the blinds?”
“They’re white and they’re aluminum. They should be wood.”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “Why?”
“Because it’s an upgrade that everyone expects now as standard.”
They had lived with white aluminum blinds for over a dozen years and nothing bad had come of it. Just because everyone was getting the upgrade didn’t mean they had to.
“The realtor advised we make those replacements and try another month. If no sales at that point, we should consider replacing the kitchen counter with marble.”
“That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with my Formica countertop.”
She heard his irritated sigh. “Work with me here, Leslie. Don’t you want to sell the house?”
She paused. Did she? No, in truth she didn’t. She didn’t particularly want to rip her family apart either, but he’d made it impossible for her to go back to the way things were.
“I guess. Go ahead and arrange the carpet. Let’s wait on the blinds and definitely hold on the marble.”
He paused, she was sure debating whether he should fight it, but eventually knew when to fold. “Okay, fine. Would you like to pick out the carpet?”
“Why would I want to do that? I’m perfectly happy with my old carpet. Besides, I’m out of town and won’t be able to arrange it. You’ll have to do it.” Or have your mistress do it.
“Where are you?” His tone seemed hesitant, knowing it really was none of his business, but curious anyway.
“On vacation.” His next question was a silent one, but she knew he was wondering nonetheless. “I’m in a seaside inn at the beach for a while.”
He paused and she knew him well enough to know what thoughts were going through his mind, all objections. “How did you get there? Did you fly?”
“No, I drove.”
“By yourself?” He’d always discouraged her from driving longer distances alone when they were together. Although she thought at the time, it was because he didn’t want anything to happen to her, now she suspected it was because he didn’t trust her to handle the drive on her own. He never gave her credit for her potential.
“Yes, all by myself, Tim, and I made it fine. Safe and sound.”
“Ah, that’s great, Les. You always have loved the ocean.”
“Yep. Okay, so if there’s nothing else …?”
“You said you spoke to Jasmine. How did she sound?” The man couldn’t seem to take a hint.
“Well, she sounded busy, on her way to something, so we couldn’t talk long. She’s going to call me back later when she has time. But overall, she seemed very happy.”
“Great. I’m glad she’s having such a good summer.”
“Good-bye, Tim.” She didn’t wait for him to respond because his voice was getting that nostalgic, soft tone to it that had always made her melt, and even though he’d destroyed their marriage and their family, and she knew their divorce was the right thing under the circumstances, she couldn’t trust herself to listen to that tone without remembering all the hundreds of times she’d heard it before. Happy times while lying in bed, sleeping in on a weekend morning, sharing the Sunday paper amidst the blankets. Hearing it over the phone while he was on a business trip, miles away, doing important work, but knowing her voice was the last thing he wanted and needed to hear before turning out the light.
It was different now. And she had to be ruthless with cutting the ties. Or else she’d never get on with the business of re
building her life.
She left her room and headed downstairs. Marianne and Tom were in the middle of attaching a colorful, long “Happy Anniversary” banner to the living room wall. Tom stood on a three-step ladder in one corner, reaching behind the couch to attach the sign with thumb tacks. Marianne stood on the opposite side on the floor, trying to hold up the other end of the banner while casting glances at Stella. The neglected girl was emitting a full-out wail.
“Stella, stop it, sweetie. I can’t help you right now. You’ll have to wait.”
“No!” The wails stopped long enough for the girl to throw out that favorite syllable, then started again. As Leslie walked into the room, Marianne tossed her an apologetic glance.
“Sorry for all the craziness in here,” she said, raising her voice over Stella’s cries. “We’re hosting a party for some guests tonight and Miss Stella does not like having to share us at the moment.”
Leslie gazed at the pre-schooler, a coloring book and box of crayons missing the mark at grasping her attention. “Would you mind if I take her into the dining room? I have a sudden urge for a beautiful picture and I know of only one little girl who can color one for me.”
Marianne looked hopeful, but replied, “Oh, don’t worry about us. Don’t change any plans you have.”
“No trouble at all. Why don’t we let you finish your decorating and you can find us in there?” She held an open hand out to Stella. The girl was keeping up the pretense of crying, but the thought of coloring with Leslie had piqued her interest. Minimal additional prompting from Leslie, and Stella jumped to her feet, accepted her hand and trotted into the dining room. They settled in at a table.
“What is your favorite picture? Will you pick your favorite to color and then give it to me? I’ll hang it in my room.” Leslie grinned at her. Stella got busy flipping through the book, wiping tears from her cheeks. Her decision made, she got to work, head down and knuckles white, gripping the fat crayon.
A fleeting memory of Jasmine at that age made Leslie focus on the child. Same concentration level, same love of the dramatic. Give them each a job and they won’t stop till they’re done.
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 10