Sanctuary Island

by Everett, Lily

  That brought Ella’s gaze to him at last. Her blue eyes pierced through him as she stood up, kicking free of the survival blanket. “Then it’s settled. You have to take me back in your boat.”

  Alarm chilled down Grady’s spine. “Ella, it’s not safe.”

  “It was safe enough for you to come out here just to check on us, even though you’d already called the Coast Guard,” she pointed out through a clenched jaw. “I’m not going all the way to Winter Harbor—I’d never make it back to the island in time to be there for Merry. And I promised her I wouldn’t miss this.”

  All his training told him he had to convince her to wait for the professional rescue. “Be reasonable—I only took the boat out because I had to make sure you were safe. When I first called it in, the Coast Guard couldn’t raise y’all on the radio, and no one knew what to think. Anything could’ve happened, there could’ve been a medical emergency—Buddy might’ve had a heart attack!”

  “Hey, leave me outta this,” Buddy protested.

  Ignoring him, Grady glared at Ella. “I’m trained to deal with situations like that,” he reminded her. “The Coasties were a long ways out, and I was on the spot and able to assist. I had to come.”

  “Why?” she asked, squaring off with him. “Why would it matter to you, what happened to a sneaky, lying, conniving bitch like me?”

  Grady felt every ugly word like a hammer strike to the gut. “I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “Well now.” Buddy coughed, sidling toward the door. “Think I’d better go check on the lower deck again.”

  Grady barely noticed when the ferry captain slipped out. All he could see was the naked pain drawing Ella’s features tight.

  “Fine,” she conceded tightly. “You’re too much of a Southern gentleman to call me a bitch. You only implied it. And you haven’t answered my question. Why bother making your first trip off the island in five years, in dangerous conditions, for a woman you think so little of?”

  “Because I was wrong.” His voice was loud in the close confines of the cockpit, but he was having a hard time regulating it. “I was wrong about your proposal and I was wrong about you.”

  Instead of melting into his arms the way he’d half hoped she might, Ella stiffened as if someone had tied a plank to her back. “Someone showed you the revised proposal.”

  “Ben told me about the therapeutic riding center,” Grady admitted, that feeling of amazement at her bold, innovative ideas washing over him again. “It’s going to be incredible.”

  She lifted her chin and stared him down. “It will still bring strangers—outsiders!—to your precious island.”

  That was true, but Grady found that he couldn’t begrudge these particular strangers the chance to find the same healing he’d found on Sanctuary. “But they’ll be people who need help, who are looking for something to get them through the worst times of their lives,” he said, emotion clogging his throat. “That’s what makes Sanctuary so precious, at least to me. It’s helped me so much. I love the idea of it helping other people. And I want to be a part of it, if you’ll let me.”

  Desperate calculation entered Ella’s narrowed eyes. “You admit you misjudged me.”

  It was a relief to shoulder the blame so completely. “Yes. I should’ve trusted you. After everything, the time we spent together, the things you made me feel—I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes flickered, but otherwise her set, determined expression never changed. “I don’t need your apologies. What I need is a ride to Sanctuary Island.” Ella stalked closer and poked a stiff finger into his chest. “I’ve never broken a promise to my sister. I don’t intend to start now. And you owe me. So pay up and get me to Merry.”

  Whatever hope he’d held that if he could only find Ella and tell her he was sorry, everything would be magically fixed—that hope was dashed against Ella’s single-minded focus on her sister.

  Disappointment cascaded through him along with a sense of loss so vast and deep, he nearly staggered. But Ella was right. He did owe her, and Merry was in trouble. That had to take precedence over whatever was happening between Grady and Ella.

  And if nothing else, Grady acknowledged silently, he owed Ella for the understanding and compassion that had enabled him to find his long-lost confidence—because he knew, without a doubt, that he could get her back to Sanctuary safely. No matter what happened, he was equal to it.

  She’d given him that. The least he could give her was the chance to fulfill her promise to Merry.

  “Get your things,” he said, watching as gratitude dawned over her like a sunrise. “I’m taking you home.”

  *

  On some level, Ella was aware that she was engaging in what Adrienne would call “risk behavior,” in her very best prim therapist voice. But Ella felt like a robot who’d been issued an overriding directive, a mission that took precedence over everything, including her own safety and happiness.

  Merry was in trouble. Ella had to get to her. End of story.

  It had to be the end of the story, because there was no room in that narrative for daring rescues by handsome handymen who’d overcome years of fear and conditioning to save her. There was no room for wondering what really motivated said rescue—guilt? Remorse?

  She couldn’t even begin to contemplate the possibility of something deeper.

  Ella was holding it together with a wish and a prayer as it was—the fear for her sister and the new life struggling into the world right this very second overpowered everything else.

  Anxiety about purposefully lifting her leg over the side of the upper-deck railing and starting the slow, wind-buffeted climb down the ferry ladder to Grady’s boat? No big deal.

  Awareness that Grady was no more than a foot below her on the ladder, strong arms ready to catch her if she slipped? Nonexistent.

  Really.

  And once they were both finally in the Stingray, feeling the intense roll of the lightweight craft in the storm-tossed waves, was Ella afraid?

  No. There was no time for fear, no time for doubts. When Grady shot her an assessing glance from behind the big steering wheel, she lifted her chin and tried to project poised, unshaken resolve.

  Not the easiest image to conjure up when your teeth were chattering and you had to curl your ankles around the seat supports to hold yourself bodily in the boat as it bounced and jumped over the water, but Ella managed.

  The bone-jarring journey back to Sanctuary was a dark dream full of saltwater spray, mind-numbing cold winds, and tense silence from the man driving the boat.

  And once they were back on solid land, it didn’t get a whole lot better. The land wasn’t all that solid, for one thing, and it certainly wasn’t dry. Although it helped a lot to get into the Jeep and out of the rain.

  Grady cranked the heat to high and took no chances with the sticky clay slurry that passed for the road through town and out to the eastern shore of the island where Windy Corner stood.

  Ella bit her lip against the urge to tell Grady to drive faster. The look of grim resolve and intense concentration hardening his features told her he was pushing the Jeep as far as he safely could.

  The one time she sighed and unconsciously drummed her fingers on her impatiently jiggling knee, Grady took his gaze off the road ahead for only a split second to sear her with a glance.

  “Don’t ask,” he growled. “I won’t risk you.”

  That was all he said, but it sent more warmth through Ella than the most powerful blast of heat from the Jeep’s hardworking vents.

  “Thank you for doing this.” Ella pressed her fingers against the damp cotton of her khakis, needing to fill the silence. “I know I forced you into it against your better judgment. But Merry and I—”

  “She’s going to be okay.” Grady’s confidence seeped into Ella’s heart, giving it a lift. “Ben actually went to medical school and did a surgical residency at some fancy-pants hospital before he quit to go to vet school. He’s a good man. I�
�d trust him with my life.”

  Ella took in a shuddering breath. “That makes me feel better. Merry and I have been on our own for a long time, the two of us against the world, and even though I know she’s not alone, she’s with Jo, I just … I need to be there.”

  She ran out of steam, her mind crowding with images of Merry screaming and working to bring her child into the world. After a heartbeat, Grady downshifted and said, “It’s okay, I get it. There are a few people I’d do pretty much anything for, too.”

  He didn’t look at her, but Ella swallowed hard. She had a feeling she might be one of those people for Grady.

  But she didn’t have time to think about what that might mean, or what she should do about it, because the Jeep finally made it out of the pine copse, and they were there.

  The veterinarian’s dilapidated truck with the shiny horse trailer attached sat out front. Ella’s exhausted heart picked up speed, pumping what felt like pure, undiluted adrenaline through her body.

  Grady threw the Jeep into park and Ella wrestled free of the seat belt and tumbled out the door, soaked shoes sloshing and sliding in the mud as she ran to the porch and vaulted over the hole she’d made in the steps that first day.

  Stopping inside the front door, Ella shouted for her sister.

  The house echoed with a resounding silence that sent a chill all through her—or maybe that was the draft blowing in from the door as Grady followed her into the house.

  “Merry?” she called again.

  The only response was a thin, high-pitched wail that sent a thrill of fearful anticipation through Ella’s limbs.

  “It came from Jo’s room.” Grady prodded Ella’s frozen body in the direction of the hallway to the back of the house.

  He kept one warm, reassuring hand at the small of her back all the way down the hall. It was only Grady’s support that got her to the door of the room she’d slept in that first night. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “I can’t believe we made it,” she whispered, staring at the chipped white paint of the door frame.

  “Aren’t you going to go in?” His voice was as gentle as his touch.

  “I’m scared,” she admitted with a watery laugh. “Stupid, huh? I wasn’t scared before when I should’ve been. I think it was because I knew you’d get me here in one piece.”

  His fingers twitched against her back, curling as if he wanted to hold her more tightly. “And I did.”

  “Whatever’s on the other side of that door,” Ella realized, looking up at Grady’s shadowed face. “You can’t protect me from that. If it’s bad—there won’t be any way to rescue me. I’ll have to face it.”

  “We’ll face it,” he told her, turning them both so that her back was to his strong chest and his voice was a puff of warmth against the sensitive shell of her ear. “Together. You’re not alone.”

  It wasn’t entirely true. Nothing between them was resolved—they weren’t together, not really. But for this one moment, Ella took the sentiment as it was intended, as a gesture of support and solidarity, and she let it buoy her up enough to take a deep breath and push open the door.

  The thin cry came again, and this time Ella could see—it wasn’t her sister making the heart-wrenching sound.

  She stood in the doorway with Grady at her back, all her heart and soul zeroing in on the tiny scrap of an infant shaking its miniature fists in red-faced rage at the world.

  It took Ella a moment to realize there was anyone else in the room, but at her sister’s happy, exhausted cry, Ella’s focus zoomed to Merry, lying sweaty and pale against the pillows of the four-poster bed.

  Jo, who’d been holding Merry’s hand, jumped up and hurried over to grab Ella into a tight, rib-cracking hug.

  “Merry’s okay,” Jo said as Ella drew in a breath that turned into an embarrassing sob. “It’s a boy! They’re both doing great.”

  “Thanks to Ben,” Merry said tiredly, her eyes never leaving the dark-haired vet at the foot of the bed as he attended silently to the squalling baby’s umbilical cord.

  Ben snorted. “Nature took its course. I was just there to play catcher.”

  His voice was gruff and dismissive, but Ella noticed the care he took in swaddling the baby in a soft towel, and his light, almost reverent touch when he lifted the squirming bundle of infant onto Merry’s heaving chest.

  Merry’s thin arms came up to surround her baby boy as Ben stepped back, and the look that passed over her damp, wan face … Ella couldn’t hold back her tears.

  Jo, who’d linked arms with her, squeezed Ella and pulled them both to the bedside as Merry lifted one trembling finger to trace the softness of her newborn son’s cheek.

  “Hi, Baby,” she said, her voice so full of wonder and love that Ella felt her own heart swell. “I’m your mom.”

  “Come on, Grady,” Ben said gruffly. “Our work here is done. Time for nature to take its course again—that kid needs to eat.”

  “We’ve got it from here.” Jo was already sliding an arm behind Merry’s shoulders, readying the pillows. Ella leaned over the bed and hugged her sister and tiny nephew close, gentling them into a more upright sitting position.

  She lingered for a moment, anticipating the rightness, the completion, of having everyone she loved in the circle of her arms, Ella’s entire heart contained in a single embrace.

  But as much joy poured through her in this moment with Merry and her baby, and their mother close by and smiling down on them with tearful happiness, Ella was conscious of something missing.

  Looking around, she saw that the men had slipped out of the bedroom.

  Grady was gone.

  Her heart gave a painful throb of longing, and Ella closed her eyes against the knowledge that without Grady, there was no such thing as complete, perfect happiness.

  CHAPTER 32

  The storm blew itself out, the black clouds rolling out over the white-tipped waves to reveal the spectacular purples and oranges of an island sunset.

  Grady sat alone on the front porch of Windy Corner, staring out at the world washed clean. Ben had gone back into the house ages ago. His terse, grouchy friend had made a production about it being a chore to take care of two completely healthy people like Merry and her new baby, but Grady noticed Ben hadn’t left her bedside for longer than twenty minutes since he first heard she was in labor.

  As for Grady, he wasn’t sure what he was waiting around for, other than a hope to be useful.

  Right, his sardonic inner voice muttered. It has nothing to do with wanting as much time as you can get with Ella before she leaves Sanctuary for good.

  Whether she wants to see you or not.

  The bang of the screen door brought Grady’s head up like a stallion sensing danger to the band.

  Or maybe danger to my heart, he thought as Ella stepped out onto the porch.

  His blood throbbed through him in a completely involuntary response to the slim shape of her, dressed in one of Jo’s old flannel shirts and a pair of faded jeans. Her face was a just scrubbed pink, her dark, wavy hair sleeked back in a wet ponytail.

  She’d showered, Grady realized, which of course meant that his internal vision was nothing but images of Ella sliding her soapy hands all over her naked body when she sat down on the top porch step beside him.

  Hunching slightly, Grady waited for her to tell him again that it was over, to leave and not come back—or worse, for her to thank him.

  He didn’t want her to feel grateful. He wanted her to understand that he would do anything he could to make her happy for the pure joy of seeing her smile.

  As always, however, Ella Preston defied all of Grady’s expectations.

  With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around his elbow where it rested on the knee closer to her, and leaned her forehead against his bicep.

  “You left the island,” she said, her voice muffled in the still-damp cotton of his T-shirt. “You got in your boat and came after me.”

  Grady shifted uncomfortably—but
not enough to dislodge her from where she clung to him. “I didn’t have far to go,” he pointed out. “What, a few hundred yards offshore? Didn’t even make it to the mainland.”

  “You would have, though.”

  The certainty in her voice stopped his breath. “I would’ve,” he agreed hoarsely.

  She lifted her head to stare him in the eye. “If I’d gone all the way back to D.C., you still would have come after me.”

  Grady shook his head. “How can you know that?”

  The left side of her mouth quirked up into a humorless smile. “It was never about how far you were willing to go—it was about taking that first step.”

  The realization that she knew him this well, understood him better than he’d understood himself for a long time, and he’d known her and trusted her so little that he’d accused her of trying to steal her mother’s inheritance … Grady swallowed against the surge of regret in the back of his throat.

  “I’m sorry.” He had to say it again, even though she hadn’t wanted to hear it before. “The things I said to you at the bank … I can’t believe I was such a jerk.”

  She sighed, her eyelashes fluttering down and concealing her expression. “I can. With the information you had? It was pretty damning. After all…” She took a deep breath and turned her head to stare out at the rain-sparkled tree line. “I did put that B and B proposal together. It was my work, and I tried hard to sell Jo on the idea.”

  “But you thought better of it,” Grady argued. “If I couldn’t have faith in you, I should’ve at least gotten all the facts before I accused you of anything.”

  Pulling her arm back, Ella angled her body to relax against the porch railing. Without her pressed to his side, Grady felt the cold of the evening breeze through his wet clothes more keenly.

  “What reason did I give you for that kind of faith?” Ella asked frankly, her gaze open. “I slept with you, but I refused to talk about what was going on with us. I didn’t tell you how I was feeling, about you or Jo or anything—I didn’t say a word about how close I was to chucking it all and staying on Sanctuary.”