Tides of Hope: It's Never Too Late For Second Chances (A Nantucket Island Romance Book 1)

by Dawn Tomasko

  At the back door, she flipped the deadbolt. A small deck big enough for two chairs and a small table led down to the yard. A circular area of neglected grass competed with scrub oak. Beach roses skirted the grassy area and beach plums stood some distance from the porch. She would make beach plum jam come fall.

  After a walk to the edge of the grass, she pried off her sneakers and stripped off her socks to sink her feet in the sand. A peace settled over her, long overdue and very welcome.

  "Ohhh, yes, this is it.” Eyes closed, she reveled in the silky grit, despite the chill. Summer had yet to lend its strong sun to heat the sand, but it didn't matter in the least. She sank to her knees, pushed her fingers through the fine particles.

  "I'm home,” she whispered. Gone were the fights, the tension, and drama. The pain. She'd made it. Dizzy with a mix of relief, a bone-deep sense of rightness and yes, a sliver of panic, she eased out a long breath. Rather than her customary far-too-short summer visit, she would live here. A journey to renew herself. A total do-over. Not for the first time, Nantucket wrapped her welcoming arms around Sara. Weariness drained away and for the second time that day, her lips curved in a smile.

  An annoying and persistent knock at the door cut through the haze of deep sleep. On a groan, Sara turned over to bury her head in the pillow. The stale scent of mildew clogged her nose. Another round of knocking, louder this time, made her more aware. The lumpy bed must be responsible for the deep aches in her body. How fast could a mattress get to the island if she ordered it today?

  "Sara!”

  Knowing it wouldn't stop, she flipped over to drag herself upright. Now she knew why her body hurt. Last night she'd never made it up to bed. She swung her feet to the floor, raked her fingers through the snarled mass of hair. As they caught a knot, she winced.

  She stumbled and stubbed her toe on the bottom step. "Shit,” she muttered, leaned down to rub her big toe. After she hobbled to the door and opened it a crack, she squinted at the brilliant sun and silhouette of her dearest friend. "I'm going to hurt you,” she threatened in a sleep-rusty voice.

  With a maniacal laugh and a musical jangle of bracelets, Charlotte slapped her palm on the door and muscled her way through. "No, you won't, you love me too much,” her hip bumped Sara's, nearly knocking her on her ass. "Besides, I brought coffee. Two large coffees.”

  Yes, and it smelled heavenly. Sara followed close behind, craving that first cup. "Not fair, you know my weakness."

  Charlotte chuckled and set the coffee tray on a chest by the lumpy sofa. After the snap of a sheet and a shower of dust, she sat down on the armchair. "Uh-oh, bad idea,” Charlotte wrinkled her nose and waved a hand through the dust motes as they swirled madly in the air, then sneezed twice.

  "Bless you.” Sara turned to her. "Be right back. Bathroom.” She used the tiny bathroom off the kitchen, washed her hands with an ancient sliver of soap left behind in a little well on the old porcelain sink. Since she hadn't unpacked a thing, she dried her hands with wadded up toilet paper, which stuck to her hands. A glance in the mirror made her groan. “Shit.” Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and weariness draped her like a wet blanket.

  Back in the living room, she tucked a long leg under her on the couch. Then she opened the plastic lid to blow across the surface of the hot liquid to cool it. "I love you,” Sara whispered as the strongly scented coffee filled her head.

  "How nice of you.” Charlotte's bracelets sang as she waved a hand in her direction. "A minute ago you wanted to do me in."

  "Not anymore. You’ve redeemed yourself.” Time spent in Charlotte's company invariably resulted in feeling uplifted and refreshed. The upbeat personality of her longtime girlfriend was a brand of comfort all its own. The sight of her open, friendly face, colorful outfit, and bouncy brown curls warmed her more than coffee could.

  Concern edged Charlotte's eyes as they roamed over Sara. "You slept on the couch last night, in your clothes? How unregimented of you. It's cold in here, too."

  "I forgot to close the windows. It smelled musty."

  Charlotte rose to push the windows closed. They creaked in protest. "Where's your luggage?"

  Hunching her shoulders, she dropped her gaze to the coffee cup warming her hands. While she appreciated her friend's good intentions, she wasn't up for an interrogation. Too much of that back home. "In the car, Mom."

  "Did you eat dinner last night?” At the question, Sara's stomach growled loudly. "Guess not.” Charlotte frowned at her and returned to her seat.

  "Hey, it was a long drive, and I needed to lay down for a bit. Next thing I know it's morning, and a madwoman is pounding on my door,” she plucked at her wrinkled pink sweatshirt and gave a sheepish smile. "But thanks for the coffee."

  "Run a brush through your rat's nest and get your shoes. We're going out for breakfast.” A glance at her wristwatch brought on another frown. "Or maybe brunch. We'll head to Stop & Shop for food and unpack your clothes after. No argument,” she snapped when Sara opened her mouth to protest.

  "Give me a few minutes. I'm a morning person, but let the coffee clear the cobwebs, okay?” After a deep sip, Sara sat in silence. Content to stay curled on the couch, she eased her head back on the sofa cushion and closed her eyes. Bone-deep fatigue, caused by more than the long trip yesterday, weighed her limbs down. God, she needed time to catch her breath, get her bearings.

  "Do you want to shower first? Change into fresh clothes?” Charlotte asked and set her feet on the chest, legs crossed at the ankles. "How long have you had on the same underwear?"

  A snort of laughter escaped. "I want to scrub the bathroom before I shower, and it could take a while to find the underwear."

  "Fair enough.” Charlotte nodded. "Finish your coffee. We're going out."

  "Charlotte,” Sara began, stretching her long legs out on the couch cushions. "There's no rush."

  "Don't give me any crap,” her friend warned, pointed a long, manicured finger at her. Once Charlotte set her mind to something, little could change it. No point in an argument. Also, she had made it possible for Sara to be here in this ideal situation.

  "You're a pushy broad."

  A delighted cackle echoed in the room. "Shocker, huh? Look, there's no food, no cleaning supplies and you can't wash the sheets without detergent. I'm sorry I didn't stock the fridge."

  "I didn't expect you to.” Sara savored the chug of coffee through her system. Uncharacteristically, Charlotte quieted down as they drank the coffee. Worry and affection warred in her eyes, and Sara squirmed under the scrutiny. "Stop staring. I'm not an animal at the zoo."

  "Can't help it, I love you.” Big brown eyes bored into her. "I've never seen you like this. Your skin is pale, and I don't like the dark circles under your eyes. Sorry, but you look like hell."

  Time to deflect. "You, on the other hand, look great.” Charlotte's unique sense of style never failed to delight Sara, who looked at her bright floral print dress. "Beautiful as always."

  Charlotte's eyes narrowed, and she ignored the attempt to steer the conversation in another direction. "Did you lose weight? Looks to me like one size at least,” she said, shock and surprise in her voice.

  "Yeah,” she admitted, aware her jeans hung loosely on her already slender frame. Her shoulder lifted. "About ten pounds, I think."

  Charlotte swore. "You couldn't afford it. Thank God you're out of that house and away from him for good. We're going to talk about this, girlfriend, long and hard. You told me things got tough, but you held back. Brush your teeth. We'll order a breakfast fit for a lumberjack, and you'll eat every bit."

  "Man, you're bossy,” she complained but stood up to get ready. Charlotte would keep pushing and didn't deserve Sara's misdirected anger, which bubbled under the surface. Now she wished she'd taken the suitcases out of the car to ditch the clothes she'd spent over twenty-four hours wearing. Structured in her routines, sleeping in jeans on a couch didn't sit right. Now desperate for a long, hot shower to wash away far more than dirt and s
ore muscles, she swallowed hard at the prick of tears.

  "Hey."

  Eyebrows raised, Sara tossed a look over her shoulder.

  "Where's my hug?” Charlotte gave a tender smile. Sara moved into the warm comfort of her friend's arms and let out a long sigh. "How are you, sweetie?"

  Grateful for physical contact from someone who cared, someone with whom she could let her guard down, she rested her head on Charlotte's shoulder. "When I find out, you'll be the first to know.” The soft jangle of bracelets and love-filled hug eased the tightness in her throat.

  "I'm so glad you came."

  "Me too,” she whispered, with no choice but to have faith. So much to think about, to sift through. Somehow, it would all work out. She couldn’t bear to think of anything else.

  Charlotte's SUV jostled over cobblestoned side streets, turned up Main Street before finally coming to a jarring halt. Once inside the restaurant, they took a window seat in Coffee on Main, a restaurant of exposed brick, massive beams, and wide plank floors. High ceilings gave the impression of space.

  A fair number of people sat in the restaurant, a good number of diners for this time of year. Once summer season hit full swing, folks would line the sidewalk to wait for tables. The wait wouldn't matter. All one needed to do to pass the time was right in front of them. Throngs of people, shops to cater to every taste, farm stands laden with local produce and stunning flowers. Local artists, their canvases set on easels, supplies on the brick walk, would paint as people hovered over their shoulders as island scenes unfolded before their eyes.

  "I love Coffee on Main,” Sara smoothed her hand over the white linen tablecloth. Tea light candles flickered under studded glass domes on each table and gave off the faint scents of candle smoke and wax. A bud vase held a fresh sweetheart rose and a sprig of baby's breath.

  Outside the window, cars and trucks rumbled along the street. Main Street offered homemade ice cream, fudge, the daily paper, banking, Realtors, a pharmacy and the famous Nantucket Lightship baskets. Sara always pined for one, but never could get over the feeling that spending so much on something made sense. Maybe now she would indulge in a little retail therapy. Some store owners window dressed while others swept brick sidewalks.

  Freshly potted pansies flanked the doorways. Their toughness could withstand the bite of cold, damp nights without withering away.

  "It's nice to see people out before the start of the season. I've never come this early, except the year I brought Brianna for the Daffodil Festival.” Each time she came, she drank in every detail from antique lampposts, cobblestones stretched wide across Main Street, to people walking dogs. Nantucket, so far removed from the mainland and her now-former life, with its beaches, people and unique culture, captured her heart long ago.

  "Wait until next month.” With a wry grin, Charlotte tapped a message into her phone.

  "Yeah, then people will pour off the ferry.” Town streets jammed with summer residents dressed in the hues of summer to make a living rainbow of color in motion.

  Charlotte's voice brought her attention back. "Sorry, Gary wanted to ask how you were. What do you think of GetAway?” The phone got silenced and tucked into her friend's purse.

  Sara sipped strong coffee from a thick white mug, then set it in a saucer. "You made an excellent choice. It's a lovely house. Just the right size, with a lot of character. I can do so much there. Since it's the last one on the end, I consider few neighbors a bonus. Peaceful and quiet. There's certainly plenty of work to keep me busy. I'm excited."

  "Good!” Charlotte flicked her wrist and sent her bracelets clanging. "So many possibilities. All depends on how much you want to do."

  Sara nodded. "Why don't you give me a list of what the owner wants, and I'll add to it? As I get acquainted with the house, I'm sure issues will pop up. What works, what doesn't. How far does the owner want to take the renovation?"

  "As far as you want. There's not much of a list as she left it up to us. She's not fussy about how we go about it. The family's owned the house forever, but the granddaughter inherited and wanted to sell."

  Sara's brows pulled together. "Seriously? I can't imagine it. If I ever got lucky enough to inherit a house here, I'd never sell.”

  "People have their reasons. Hey, how about those countertops?” Charlotte stuck a finger in her mouth and made a retching noise.

  Sara laughed. "Pretty gross. The cabinets should be painted, maybe replaced. The floors are in good shape. They'll be beautiful once they're cleaned and oiled. A full top to bottom cleaning is first on my list."

  Charlotte pulled out her phone and opened the note app. "Let's make a list of supplies and we can grab them when we food shop. This weekend the contractor wants to come out to assess for structural issues and other repairs. Some materials are available at Island Lumber, but some will need to be ordered and delivered on the ferry.” Charlotte put her napkin on her lap.

  At the mention of the contractor, her knee started to bounce. As she opened her mouth to comment, an elderly lady made her way across the room, but her walker got hung up on the uneven floor surface. Sara jumped to her aid, held her elbow to guide her to a table and lower her into a chair. After they had exchanged a few words and smiles, she came back to the table.

  "She's sweet,” Sara scooted her chair back in to sit.

  "Mrs. Williamson. Ninety-nine if she's a day. Still bakes all kinds of goodies for a social hour after Mass on Sundays. Gabe did a small job for her.” Charlotte waved at the older woman.

  Sara's stomach quivered. "I want to ask you about him. The contractor. I know he needs to be at the house. You know I'm not ungrateful, but time alone is important to me."

  With a nod, Charlotte refilled her coffee from the carafe and stirred cream into her mug. "It's funny you should ask because he wanted to make sure you'd be okay with him being around. Since we don't know how extensive the repairs will be, it's too early to say how long it'll take. Gabe's a good guy, a professional. We’ve had him to our house for dinner. Gary and I like him a lot. Please don't worry."

  "You're doing me a tremendous favor. I don't want to be a pain in the ass.” Why agonize over it? Because she barely got clear of her ex and still wasn't certain that was a done deal. Back home, much of her time was spent with her daughter or patients. With time alone an essential point to her purpose here, she wanted to have some control over time spent with other people. Maybe he'd be a sixty-year-old grizzled native with no interest in small talk.

  "He has lots of projects on tap. He'll have to balance his time at GetAway with others. The work will get done, and you'll still have time to yourself."

  "Sounds good.” Grateful, tension in her chest loosened some and briefly, her eyes closed. The waitress set their plates on the table. Steam rose from the stack of wild blueberry pancakes, complete with rich amber maple syrup, sage sausage, and fresh fruit. Sara's mouth watered at the sight. "This is going to be good,” she predicted, then dug in with her fork. After she stuffed in a huge bite, let out a moan of pure ecstasy. "I'm having a moment."

  Charlotte laughed.

  After a few forkfuls, she went back to the subject of the house. "I can't wait to see the porch once those huge pine shrubs are cut back and shaped. Personally, I'd get rid of them altogether."

  Charlotte nodded. "No reason you can't."

  "That'll be all right?” Thrilled, her mind began to run down possibilities for the outdoor spaces. What to remove, what to trim back, ways to enhance the property.

  "Definitely,” she looked up at Sara. "You want to landscape, too?"

  Sara had a knack for creating beautiful outdoor spaces. When she and David bought their house, she experimented with perennials. In a short time, selection of which flowers and plants to buy for sun, shade and color became a passion. A number of friends and neighbors hired her to work on their properties as well.

  "I'd love to get really into it after the major repairs are done. Can you picture how gorgeous the house would be with the gro
unds cleaned up and flowers everywhere?"

  “Yes, I can, especially if you do it.” Charlotte nodded her agreement. She took a bite of her Belgian waffle, topped with fresh berries and whipped cream and rolled her eyes. "Yum. Do whatever makes you happy. I loved what you did with your yard. You should do more with your skills."

  Sara smiled. "Before I left Connecticut I started to take online classes in landscape design. I’m about to finish the program. Then I want to start my own business."

  "Here? Then you're staying!” Charlotte smiled hugely. "This is fantastic! I'm so happy for you and us. My thoughts were if you decided to stay, I assumed you'd get a nursing position at the hospital."

  She shuddered. "The idea of putting on scrubs again makes me want to howl. Digging in the dirt would make me much happier. People back home thought I was crazy for leaving my position after five years at the hospital. My loans aren't even paid off."

  Charlotte squeezed her hand. "Those people aren't here, so it doesn't matter, does it? Finding happiness matters. I think you should do what moves you. A lot of people I know would be interested in a landscape designer. People here put a lot of effort into their properties. Count on us for leads. We know everybody.”

  Sara's heart raced in a sudden rush of excitement. Charlotte was right. Did it make a difference if she left her nursing career to start something new as long as it made her happy? So many years and energy spent, admittedly by her choice, to ensure the happiness of others. David. Brianna. Patients and supervisors. Now it would be her turn. "Thank you. I don't have a business plan yet, but I love the idea of being my own boss. Especially here."

  "Things are looking up.” Holding up a cup orange juice, she tapped it to Sara’s. "How is Bree?"