Isle of Hope

by Julie Lessman

  “Yes, Spence told me, so I thought I’d let you know that Ben seems to roll in after eight on Fridays, so why don’t you come over here to wait,” she said, hurrying forward with a welcoming smile. Her face was aglow and void of makeup except for a touch of gloss and a fine sheen of moisture, no doubt from the high humidity. Wispy strands of honey-colored hair fluttered loose from a messy ponytail that made her look more like a fresh-scrubbed teenager than a mom in her forties. Scampering up the porch steps like a girl half her age, she promptly relieved Lacey of the pie. “Here, let me take that for you, and you can pull your car on the other side of the Wall of Jericho,” she said with a wink. “Then join me on the patio in the back.”

  Lacey grinned, suddenly remembering one of the main reasons she’d always loved spending time at the O’Bryen’s. Jack’s mom had been a dynamo of smiles and fun, joining in on games of Twister and wiffle ball with the kids while Lacey’s parents and Pastor O’Bryen watched from the sidelines. Mrs. O’Bryen trotted off, and Lacey felt the vise around her ribs slowly loosen, Jack’s mom’s reference to the “Wall of Jericho” luring a chuckle from her lips.

  Favorite memories came rushing back of her, Cat, and Shan cuddled together on the O’Bryen’s couch watching musicals and old movies, especially one of Lacey’s favorites, It Happened One Night. The reference to the infamous “Wall of Jericho”—when Clark Gable divided the twin-bedded motel room he shared with Claudette Colbert into two parts by stringing up a clothesline—certainly fit for the gargantuan hedge her father had put in. Strolling back to the car, Lacey supposed if anyone might succeed at dismantling her father’s walls, it would be Tess O’Bryen. She started the car and backed out, her smile slipping away into a silent sigh. Heaven knows she and her mother certainly hadn’t.

  Parked in front of the O’Bryen’s house, Lacey left her purse in the car and grabbed the second pie before locking the door and pocketing the key. A wealth of memories flooded as she made her way down the cobblestone drive to the back of the house. A squawk from above drew her attention, and she glanced up at the towering oak that shaded the back patio as she rounded the corner.

  Go-go-gos … Frawnk! The sound brought a grin to her lips at the sight of a particularly noisy blue heron standing over her nest.

  “Oh, Blue, hush—that’s no way to greet company.” Mrs. O’Bryen took the pie from Lacey’s hands and sniffed, rolling her eyes in a grand show of ecstasy while she nodded to one of the white wrought-iron chairs. “Spence mentioned you brought us a pie, so bless you because there just happens to be a tub and a half of my best homemade vanilla bean ice cream in the freezer, just waiting to be scooped alongside. Sit, young lady, while I get you a drink. Sweet tea, lemonade, or water?”

  “Sweet tea would be great, thank you, Mrs. O’Bryen.” Lacey gladly sank into the blue and white striped cushion, the pie she’d brought for her father almost taunting her from the center of the table where Tess had placed it. Quickly averting her gaze, she breathed in the heady mix of marsh and honeysuckle that instantly took her back to better times. The gurgle of a fountain happily melded with Mrs. O’Bryen’s off-key humming, warming Lacey as much as the summer sun peeking through leafy branches that swayed in the salty breeze.

  “Here you go, sweetheart,” Mrs. O’Bryen said with a bright smile, placing a tall glass of iced tea before her, beautifully garnished with a sprig of mint and a fresh peach wedge. She reached up to pull the chain on the woven ceiling fan overhead before plopping into her chair with a languorous sigh. “Oh, that feels so good, doesn’t it? And it’s Tess, remember?”

  Lacey nearly moaned at her first sip of tea, wondering how she could have forgotten that Jack’s mother made the best peach tea she’d ever tasted. “Oh my, how I’ve missed your tea, Mrs. … uh, Tess,” Lacey quickly amended, unable to stop herself from gulping half of it down. A smile wrapped around her sigh. “Nectar of the gods, bar none.”

  “Why, thank you, Lacey Anne!” Reaching for her Better Homes & Garden magazine off the table, Jack’s mother shimmied back in her chair with legs tucked beneath, head resting on the back of her chair. She slowly fanned herself while studying Lacey with a gentle gaze. “But goodness, I’m hoping you missed more than the tea, because I certainly have.”

  Lacey blinked, unable to thwart an unexpected sting of tears. She nodded, her throat suddenly closing up.

  “Oh, honey …” Tess hopped up and rounded the large, rectangular table, squatting to embrace her in a tight hug. “You were like one of my own, sweetheart,” she whispered. “If ever two people were meant to be together, I had so hoped it would be you and Jack.”

  “Me too,” Lacey said with a soggy sniff, pulling away to swipe at her eyes with an embarrassed chuckle. “But I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Tess stroked several fingers down the curve of Lacey’s cheek, searching her face with a wistful smile. “Are you sure, sweetheart? Sometimes God throws us off with a detour that’s meant to make us grow before it leads us back to what He intended all along …”

  A ball of emotion ducked in Lacey’s throat. “Well, it certainly took me long enough to do some growing, Tess, especially in my faith, but …” She inhaled shaky air before expelling it once again, praying that Jack’s mother would understand what she was about to say. “It appears that Jack and I have …” She locked gazes with his mother, a sting of regret damp in her eyes. “Grown in different directions.”

  Understanding flickered across Tess’s face as she nodded and rose, padding back to her chair with a heavy sigh. “Ah, yes, my son’s rapid decline in faith and extreme bitterness toward his father.” Her mouth quirked into a sad smile as she nodded heavenward. “Both of them.”

  “Nicki tells me Jack has little or no faith anymore,” Lacey said quietly, brows sloped in pain to match the thread of disbelief in her tone. “She says he has no use for church or God, opting for a lifestyle that flies in the face of every belief he once held dear.”

  Tess nodded, the sheen of moisture in her look confirmation of just how much she grieved for her son. “I kept hoping it was just a phase after his father left,” she whispered, but it seems the hate and unforgiveness toward Adam has hardened his heart to stone, and Cat’s too, no matter how much Matt, Shan, or I try to talk to them.”

  “I’m so very sorry, Tess …” The ache in Lacey’s heart bled into her tone.

  The barest of smiles shaded Tess’s mouth. “Me too, sweetheart, but hope is a byproduct of faith, so my money’s on the God of Hope to do His thing with my son.”

  A sigh quivered from Lacey’s lips. “That’s certainly my hope as well.”

  “Which …” Tess reached across the table to graze Lacey’s fingertips with her own. “Is one of the reasons I’m so very glad you’re home. I believe you could be the answer to my prayers, the key to unlocking my son’s heart and rekindling his faith.”

  The air swirled still in Lacey’s lungs. “I … I don’t know how, Tess. I’ve only just begun living my faith, so I’m little more than a baby at all this.” She lowered her eyes when her cheeks grew hot. “You probably weren’t aware, but back when Jack and I were promised, my faith was pretty nil, and my morals even worse. I’m ashamed to say that it was Jack who actually kept us above board, his faith that carried us through, not mine.” The muscles in her throat convulsed as she slowly looked up. “I’m not sure how someone as new and inexperienced as me could ever reach someone as bitter about religion as Jack.”

  A gentle smile softened the worry lines in Tess’s face. “Out of the mouth of babes hast Thou ordained strength,” she whispered. “Besides Jack still cares about you, Lacey, so as his friend, you have more power than you know.”

  “Maybe, but I care about him, too, Tess—more than I realized—so I’m not sure I’d have the strength to keep the friendship from straying into something deeper.”

  “And would that be such a bad thing?” Tess asked softly.

  Lacey buffed her arms, a chill taking her by surprise as she av
oided Tess’s eyes. “My heart’s still reeling from a broken engagement,” she said quietly, “and my faith is so new and fragile right now, I’m not sure I can handle a bitter ex-boyfriend whose beliefs run counter to mine.” She lapsed into a melancholy stare. “My mom told me once she believed that was the main reason she and Daddy fought so much. She said her faith was strong when they got married, but Daddy’s wasn’t, and after a while, it took a toll, and hers suffered too.” Lacey finally glanced up, arms in a nervous clutch at her waist. “I just want to marry a man whose faith matches mine, Tess, because after seeing what my mom and dad went through, I need all the stability I can get, you know?”

  “Yes, I do.” Tess expelled a weary sigh. “It’s our loss, sweetheart, but I have to say, you’re a wise woman, Lacey Carmichael.”

  No, ma’am, just a very wounded one. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she sucked in a shallow breath, remembering those awful fights between her mother and father over Daddy’s disdain for the church, even with a pastor as a close friend. It wasn’t until faith had become an important part of her own life that the strain between her and Tim suddenly appeared, finally escalating out of control. Just like Mom and Daddy. Since her breakup with Tim, she’d vowed to only marry a man of deep faith. She frowned. But then, Tess had married a man of deep faith, hadn’t she?

  Throat suddenly parched, she quickly reached for her tea, taking another sip before she managed a wry smile. “Not so wise, Tess, just pretty gun-shy. I saw what being unevenly yoked did to my parents’ marriage, and I have no desire for more of the same.” Her lips skewed into a wry smile while she raised her tea in a toast, giving a sharp nod toward the sky. “Which is why from now on, it’s His way or the highway for me, you know? Hopefully to up my odds for success.”

  “Success, yes …” Tess nodded, her eyes trailing into a backyard sanctuary canopied by trees. “Well, we both know I learned the hard way there are no guarantees whether one is evenly yoked or not. But the four of us always had such a great time together, I just assumed any fights we had with our spouses were a natural part of marriage.” The line of her throat shifted as she continued to stare, voice faraway and gaze unblinking. “Like Adam and me.” She finally glanced up, her reverie broken. “And it is to a degree, I suppose, but also a symptom of something deeper that couples need to explore, and pray about, and heal. But even so, sweetheart, I believe your parents loved each other no matter how much they butted heads.”

  “I suppose,” Lacey said quietly, not sure at all that her father had harbored much love for either her mother or her.

  As if reading her mind, Tess leaned in, the intensity in her tone drawing Lacey’s gaze. “I truly believe your father has mellowed, Lacey, and although he may give you a fight over your desire to make amends, I pray you don’t let his gruffness push you away. Ben Carmichael may not know it yet, but he needs you desperately, honey, and you need him.”

  Lacey slowly twirled the empty glass in her hands, her stomach suddenly rolling along with it. “I know,” she whispered, “but what if he keeps turning me away? I’m not sure how much more rejection I can take.”

  “He won’t, not if you hang in there and show him you’re as tough as he is.” A smile squirmed on Tess’s lips. “He fought me, too, when I started going over there after that night you brought Davey home, but I wore him down with persistence, pizza, and monster cookies. And if I recall, your father has an unnatural fascination with both your mother’s chocolate chip pie and my monster cookies, so maybe that’s the next bribe you bring.”

  A grunt rolled from Lacey’s mouth. “The next one? You’re assuming my grandmother’s peach pie will work this time.”

  Tess winked. “Oh, it will, trust me. Because you, Lacey Carmichael, are staying for dinner tonight, and as soon as we hear Beau in the backyard, that’s my cue to pray while you deliver the pie.”

  Lacey froze for a split second, the thought of having dinner with Cat as frightening as seeing her father. “Oh, no, not dinner, Tess, I don’t want to impose. I can come back later, really—”

  “Nope.” Tess shoved to her feet with a firm jut of her chin. “Trust me, it’s nothing fancy—Davey’s requested sloppy Joes, chips, and marshmallow fruit salad—so it’s no imposition at all, truly. And the girls won’t be home for dinner, so there’s plenty of room.”

  Relief flooded Lacey’s veins. “Well then, what can I do? Set the table, take drink orders?”

  “Drink orders would be lovely.” Glancing at her watch, Tess nodded toward the O’Bryen’s fishing dock across the street on the Skidaway River. “Tell the boys they have thirty minutes to fish or cut bait before I ring the dinner bell.”

  “Will do.” Ponytail bouncing, Lacey rose and pushed in her chair, the lure of the fishing dock calling her home to countless memories she still cherished in her heart. Magical summer nights spent with Jack, Cat and Shannon—fishing, talking, swimming, what have you. Her heart picked up pace along with her feet, thoughts of the “what have you” suddenly warming her cheeks. Shaking off the thought, she pulled out her cell phone to let Mamaw know she wouldn’t be home for dinner.

  “Oh, and Lacey …”

  She whirled around on the driveway, finger poised on the keypad. “Yes?”

  Affection skimmed across Jack’s mother’s face. “It’s been eight long years, sweetheart, and I suspect you haven’t cast a line since, so I’ll bet Jack will still bait the hook if you ask him real nice.”

  Lacey grinned and waved to deflect a gulp. Quickly leaving a message for Mamaw, she disappeared around the corner and shuffled down their driveway. “He already has,” she muttered before screeching to a dead stop at the curb on Bluff Drive while a car sped by. She shaded her eyes to peer across the street where Jack, Matt, and the boys laughed and fished on the O’Bryen’s cozy dock with its long, weathered ramp and cedar-shake, cabana-style roof. Little more than miniatures in the distance, they were far enough away to ensure the privacy she and Jack had always sought on summer nights. Jack cast a line wearing nothing more than cutoffs and Sperrys, and Lacey’s stomach tumbled along with her composure when his tan shoulders rippled with the motion. His broad back tapered into a narrow waist while sweat gleamed on muscles molded to perfection, causing a second gulp to rise in her throat. Swallowing hard, she glanced up at the sky, a plea in her eyes. “All I’m asking is please don’t let it be me who swallows the bait,” she said, her tone veering toward dry, “or it’ll be hook, line, and sink her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Hey, Jack, look what Spence caught!” Davey’s excited words ricocheted across the water from the grassy shore where he’d wandered while fishing with Matt and Spence.

  A slow grin slid across Jack’s face as he spied the piece of driftwood dangling from Spence’s rod, the boy’s ear-to-ear grin matching the pride in Davey’s voice. “Good job, Spence. That’ll make a nice souvenir after we sand and polish it, won’t it, Davey?”

  “That’s what I told him, so can we do it after supper?”

  “You bet.” Jack’s line jerked with a flash of a sea trout, and he casually reeled it in while he glanced in the boys’ direction, both waist deep in a gentle sway of marsh grass. “Any bait left on that hook, Spence, or do you need another worm?”

  “Nope, still have some, but thanks.” Spence dislodged the driftwood and carefully set it aside before sailing his bobber back into the water.

  “If you boys get tired of catching wood with Matt’s worms, just let me know, and I’ll fix you up with a shrimp and popping cork like I’m using.” Jack taunted them with a wave of his good-sized trout before hooking it onto a stringer rigged to the side of the dock.

  “God’s just throwing you a bone, O’Bryen,” Matt called. “Apparently He feels sorry for you ’cause I’ve caught three fish to every one of yours.” He tossed a grin Jack’s way as he ambled further down the shore.

  Jack shook his head and re-baited his hook with a jag of a smile. “He’s throwing me a bone all right,” he mumbl
ed under his breath, thoughts straying to Rocks on the Roof a few nights ago when he and Lacey had talked. “A flippin’ T-Rex femur, right in the head.”

  “I love you, Lacey. Always have, always will.”

  “I love you, too, Jack. Forever and ever amen.”

  Muscles taut, he all but hurled his line into the river along with a colorful word that hissed from his lips. And yet we’re only friends.

  “Battling fish and talking to them is one thing, Dr. O’Bryen, but swearing at them too?”

  Jack’s head jerked around, pulse pounding hard in his throat.

  Lacey strolled to the edge of the dock, hands clasped behind like a little girl with mischief on her mind. She scrunched her nose as she peered up with an impish smile. “Not sure, but I’m thinkin’ that might be overkill.”

  He grinned when his line suddenly tugged, and setting the hook hard, he focused on reeling in another fish. “Oh, I don’t know, seems to work fine for me.” Grabbing the lower lip of the bass, he held it up and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Hey, Matt, you got another stringer I can borrow—mine’s a little full.”

  Lacey laughed, waving at the boys when they spotted her on the dock. “Mmm … that’s not the only thing that’s full, apparently,” she said with a tilt of her head, her grin just shy of a smirk. “Still the hotshot when it comes to fishing, I see.”

  “No brag, just fact, Miss Carmichael,” he said with a chuckle. He squatted at the edge of the dock to hook his fish on the stringer, then rinsed his hands in the water. “Taking potshot at me on my own dock, are you?” He shot her a half-lidded grin. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, Carmichael, and wet a line. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”

  She assessed him with a narrow gaze. “All right, bucko, you’re on.” Tongue rolling inside her cheek, she strolled over to where several rods were propped against a white weathered Adirondack chair, and making her selection, she marched over to Jack. “First one to land a fish wins, all right? What bait are we using?”