Isle of Hope

by Julie Lessman

  “Opening up. Admitting the truth. Exposing my weaknesses.” He leaned back against the sofa, trailing into a glazed stare. “Facing the fact I was a failure as a husband and father.”

  “You’re still a father, Ben,” she said softly, heart cramping at the look of defeat on his face. “And Lacey’s giving you a second chance—”

  “No!” His head shot up, the pain in his eyes constricting her throat. “I don’t deserve it and I don’t want it.”

  “But why? Love covers a multitude of sins, and that’s what Lacey is offering—her love.”

  His head was shaking before she could even finish the sentence. “I was no good at it before, Tess, there’s no reason I’d be good at it now.”

  “People change—they make mistakes, they learn, they move on.”

  He grunted. “You bet they, do and I’ve learned plenty. Which is why I’ve moved on, and Lacey needs to do the same.” He slashed a hand through his hair, disrupting his usually meticulous appearance. “I’m no good at this whole love thing, Tess, and I’m smart enough to admit it.”

  “And yet you want a romantic relationship with me,” she said, her smile dissolving along with her hope. “Not exactly a glowing endorsement Dr. Carmichael.”

  He glanced up, capturing her gaze with a potent one of his own. “You’re different,” he whispered. “Don’t ask me why, but I trust you.” One edge of his mouth tipped up. “Maybe because you’ve never screwed me over, so there’s no grudge to get in the way.”

  “You had a grudge against Karen?”

  He issued another grunt. “More like a full-blown vendetta.”

  “Why?”

  The distant stare returned as he rested his head on the back of the couch, focusing on the ceiling instead of her face. “I felt like she tricked me into marriage. I loved her in my own juvenile way, sure, but made it perfectly clear I didn’t intend to get serious until I had an M.D. behind my name. When she came up pregnant, I got mad, accused her of sleeping around …”

  “Oh, Ben …”

  He glanced over, his guilt almost palpable. “I’m not proud of it, Tess, but back then I was a spoiled rich kid running away from responsibility, a freewheeling college student more interested in partying than studying.” His gaze returned to the ceiling, the burden of regret weighting his tone. “A kid addicted to pleasure and as selfish as they come. I rationalized that if she was sleeping with me, she had to be sleeping with others, so I refused to admit she loved me, refused to admit the baby was mine.”

  “Ben—Karen loved you, she always did.”

  A bitter laugh broke from his lips, void of all mirth. “I know that now, but after my stepfather forced me to marry her, I just wanted to make her pay for ruining my life.” He continued in a lifeless drone, as if his shame had sapped all his energy. “I ignored her for the rest of her life, Tess, and I ignored Lacey too, except when people were around. A real first-class jerk. By the time I could finally see that Karen loved me and Lacey was mine, it was too late.”

  He stared straight ahead, and she didn’t miss the gleam of moisture in his eyes. “By then, I was so riddled with guilt that I blamed them all the more, for making me feel like a failure as a man.” His Adam’s apple shifted as his gaze finally met hers. “When all the time the failure was mine.”

  “You’re a different man today, Ben; you can start over.”

  “No, Tess. I didn’t deserve Karen’s love, and I sure don’t deserve Lacey’s. Especially when I still harbor bitterness over things I refuse to go into here.” He shook his head, jaw tight. “I don’t trust myself, and I won’t do that to Lacey. I failed her as a father once, and I’m not going there again.”

  Tess sat up, her patience suddenly as thin as her gaze. “You know what, Ben? You’re right—you did fail her, but newsflash, buster—you got blood in your veins just like the rest of us mortals, and failure is the name of the game, so get over it.” She jumped up and marched to where he sat, ignoring the sag of his jaw when she leaned in, hands on her hips. “You know what I think? You’re a bigger failure now than you ever were before, and all because you’re too freakin’ scared to take a chance. Oh, you cloak it in noble intent, saying you don’t want to hurt Lacey, but that only wounds her all the more by heaping rejection on top of inane, selfish, cowardly, too-stupid-to-live, moronic failure. Two wrongs don’t make a right, Dr. Doom, or don’t they teach that in medical school?” She reloaded with a deep breath before unleashing the rest of her fury. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing more than an older version of that same spoiled little kid who’s simply made a career out of running away.”

  He stared, mouth hanging open in the faintest of smiles. “Are you done? Because I think I can dig up an old feather pillow and some tar if you’re not.”

  She blinked, a hand flying to her mouth when she realized just how awful she’d sounded, attacking him more harshly than he had attacked her. She sank beside him and put a hand on his arm. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, Ben—I have no idea where that came from.”

  His mouth quirked. “I do. The wellspring of bottom-line truth from a woman who calls ’em like she sees ’em. Which is one of the reasons I trust you so much.” He gently brushed her hair from her eyes, his facial muscles softening along with his voice. “There’s not many people who could get away with that, especially after I opened up to confess deep, dark secrets I’ve never told anyone before.”

  Her head tipped. “Not even Karen?”

  Melancholy shadowed his smile. “Especially Karen. She was the source of all my anger, all my distrust, and then when she and Adam …” He looked away, hardness sculpting his features once again. “I shut down completely. Turned my back on everything—God, family, friends.” His exhale seemed to go on forever before his gaze settled on hers. “Until you.” Affection warmed the smile that flickered at the edges of his mouth. “A blunt, opinionated, annoyingly perky and completely pushy woman who loves people—and ‘cares’ for them—” He reached for her hand, feathering her knuckles with the pad of his thumb, his smile as gentle as his touch. “Just the way they are.”

  Pulse sprinting, she carefully tugged her hand free and moved away to face him head-on, opting for “blunt and opinionated” with a side of “pushy” to drive her point home. “You’re right, Ben, I do care for you just the way you are—pig-headed, stubborn, and totally clueless in the realm of love. And as a ‘completely pushy’ woman who cares for you, I believe that the truth spoken in love is not only the best gift I can give, but the most critical as well.”

  She ducked her head to peer into his face, aching to see this man happy and whole. “I’m begging you, Ben—for your sake and Lacey’s—stop running away. Let the bitterness go and start over. It ruined your marriage and it will ruin your life if you don’t take a stand against it once and for all.”

  He stared back for several seconds, face immobile except for the faintest flicker of a muscle in his jaw. “And how do you propose I do that, Tess?” he whispered, gaze guarded.

  She sat back, hands on her knees. “Well, it’s pretty clear you’re not ready to forgive Lacey, Karen, or yourself, nor do I think you’re capable of doing so on your own. So I’d say the only place you can start is by getting back on track with God.”

  “With God,” he repeated dully, his tone acidic enough to convey his disdain.

  “Yes, with God, Dr. Doom, the only One capable of fixing this sorry mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  Scowling, he burrowed back into the sofa with a stiff fold of arms, the veneer that settled over his features not boding well for her cause. “I don’t believe God exists anymore, Tess, and the only thing sorry about this so-called ‘mess’ I’m in is that the one woman I’m attracted to and would like to know better is playing hardball.”

  “Oh, horse hockey,” she said with a scowl that rivaled his own. “You do so believe God exists, Dr. Genius, because guess what? You can’t turn your back on something that doesn’t. And as far as getting to
know me better, the only way to do that is to know God better, so that pretty much nips us in the bud, now doesn’t it?”

  She fought the twitch of a smile when his jaw began to grind. “Blackmail, Tess? Somehow as a God-fearing woman, I thought you’d be above that.”

  “Nope.” She countered with a crisp fold of arms. “I’m a Christian, Ben, not perfect, something both of us have learned all too well in the past.” She bent forward, her jaw as steeled as his. “Get this and get it good, Carmichael.” She poked a finger against his chest to make her point. “ I will do anything short of highway robbery to bring peace and joy to the people I love.”

  He gripped her wrist mid-air like a spring-loaded trap, snatching all oxygen from her lungs. “There’s that word again,” he said softly, his gaze burning as much as his hold. “I wouldn’t be tossing it around too casually, Mrs. O’Bryen, or putting your hands on me unless you mean business.” He skimmed the inside of her wrist before gliding up to twine his fingers with hers. “Your hand is sticky,” he whispered, eyes lingering on her lips while his thumb slowly circled her palm.

  “I gotta go!” She shot up faster than one of Davey’s bottle rockets, so flustered, she darted into the kitchen instead of out the front door, bolting to the sink to scour her hands. Body trembling, she snatched a dishtowel from a stainless steel rack, head bowed and eyes closed to compose herself while she dried off, berating herself for agreeing to come over. “Talk about a lamb in the lion’s lair,” she muttered, spinning around with a squeal as something tickled her neck. Her body flashed hot when she realized it was Ben’s lips.

  “Don’t go,” he whispered, caging her in, the smoky look in his eyes all but welding her to the spot. “I might be willing to negotiate, Tess …”

  Her heart battered her ribs. “Yeah? Well, I’m no—” The gentle brush of his mouth against hers stalled the words in her throat, robbing her of both reason and resistance when his kiss intensified. Liquid fire coursed through her body at the rush of feelings she hadn’t felt in such a very long time. She wanted to push him away, but her insides melted into submission, rendering all resolve as limp as her body.

  “So help me, I want you, Tess,” he said, his voice hoarse as he cupped her face in his hands. Hungry lips lured her eyelids closed when they locked a moan deep in her throat. Her breathing was as ragged as his when he moved in close, melding his body to hers.

  “No!” She shoved him back, every muscle quivering with a painful mix of longing and fear. “I can’t do this, Ben—and if you persist, our friendship is over.”

  He paused, chest heaving and eyes dark with desire. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do,” she said with a thrust of her chin, “as much as I care for you, we can never be anything more than good friends and neighbors, not with the issue of faith in the way.” Arms locked to her waist, she stepped out of his reach, the threat in her tone more than real despite the awful tremble in her limbs. “I need your word this won’t happen again.”

  He studied her, his face a stone mask before he finally expelled a weary breath. “All right,” he whispered, slipping his fingers through hers to lead her back to the couch. “Put your shoes on, neighbor—you need to go home.”

  She did as he asked, avoiding his eyes while she tied a double knot in each shoe. Rising, she followed him to his front door, waiting as he opened it wide. Head cocked, she assessed him with a soulful gaze. “Do I have your word, Ben? Because I need to hear it before I go.”

  Hands plunged in his pockets, he glanced up beneath dark lashes, a melancholy smile shadowing his face along with a day’s worth of dark stubble. “You have it,” he said quietly, slowly lifting an arm to gently trace a finger along the line of her jaw. “But I can’t help but wonder …” The wounded look of affection she saw in his eyes caused her heart to cramp in her chest. “Who’s running away now?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “For crying out loud, O’Bryen—you’re acting just like you did in eighth grade when Kayla Patek dumped you for the lifeguard at the pool.” Matt finger-shot a balled-up straw wrapper at Jack, the mini-cannonball ricocheting off of Jack’s temple—right next to the throbbing nerve. “I don’t think you went within 500 feet of the rec center that year.”

  Jack scowled and itched the side of his head where the silly straw ball had hit, glaring at Matt while he parked as far away from the door of the church gym as he possibly could. He deserved to get slapped in the head with a real cannonball for letting Matt talk him into volleyball tonight. Somehow he’d managed to miss the last three weeks, coming up with some excuse or other to avoid watching some other guy fawn over the woman he loved.

  Loved. A sick feeling settled in his gut as he rammed the stick shift to neutral. Present tense, not past—a slow-motion revelation that had haunted him since he’d held Lacey in his arms on the dock over a month ago. He issued a silent grunt. Diving right back into his carefully guarded heart. He jerked the handbrake up, thumb drilling the ignition button to turn off the car. “I’m not up to watching Preacher Boy drool all over Lacey, so sue me, Ball.”

  Matt studied his cousin with a sideways stare, his tone suddenly quiet. “Come on, Jack, you act like you still have it bad for Lacey, which doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been seeing Jasmine exclusively for a while now, sometimes three or four nights a week, right?”

  The silence in the car was deafening as Jack slumped over the wheel, arms limp in a fold while he squinted aimlessly through the windshield. “Yeah.”

  “Wait a minute.” Jack never moved a muscle when Matt gripped his arm, his voice laced with shock. “You’ve fallen for Lacey all over again, haven’t you?”

  “Nope.” Jack punched the ignition button again to engage the car in “Park” and hurled his door open, slamming it harder than usual. “Not ‘again,’ Ball—still.” He started walking toward the building, forcing his cousin to run and catch up.

  Matt halted him. “Jack, look—I’m sorry. I would have never badgered you to come tonight if I’d known.”

  The edge of Jack’s lip curled as he cocked a hip, studying Matt out of the corner of his eye. “Who are you kidding? You’re relentless when it comes to pushing me into church, basketball, and coed volleyball.”

  No smile lit Matt’s eyes, only wrinkles of concern etched beside. “No, man, seriously—I’m sick about this. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Jack shrugged, hands tucked in the pockets of the Rock and Republic jeans Jasmine gave him for his birthday. “Give me a break—your wedding’s next week. You got enough on your mind without worrying about your older and wealthier—and better-looking—cousin.”

  A crook of a smile settled on Matt’s lips. “Older by six measly months, and if you’re better looking, then why am I the one getting married?”

  Jack kept walking, rolling his shoulders to get rid of a kink in his back. “I don’t know—Nicki’s blind, maybe?”

  “Or the smartest woman alive.” Matt fell in step again. “For the love of Lacey, Jack, when did you figure this out?”

  Jack slid him a withering look that was all show. “Cute, Ball.”

  His cousin stayed him again. “And for crying out loud—does Jasmine know? Because you two have been pretty hot and heavy the last month far as I can tell.”

  A heavy exhale breezed from Jack’s mouth. “No, Jasmine doesn’t know, although she’s been complaining that I’ve been distant lately.” He tunneled his fingers through his hair with a loud grunt. “Distant, my hindquarter. I’ve been a million miles away ever since I comforted Lacey on our dock over a month ago, after a fight with her dad.”

  “Oh, man, just like old times, huh?” Matt buried his hands in the pockets of his Levis, shoulders hunched in sympathy while compassion flickered across his face.

  Jack scratched the back of his neck, head bent in resignation. “Yeah, only without the make-out sessions that always followed.”

  “Look, Jack, you don’t have to be here tonight, honest. This changes ev
erything as far as I’m concerned. I’ll just cover for you like usual.” Matt winced. “Although I’ll have to fall on the sword again with Lacey. She always chews me out over my ‘snob of a cousin who’s too good to hang with the peons.’”

  Jack grinned. “Don’t worry, Ball—the little brat always saves plenty of grief for me whenever I see her.” He took in a deep draw of air, grateful for the reprieve that Matt was tossing his way. “Which, if I have my way, won’t be till the rehearsal.” He slapped Matt’s shoulder. “Thanks, bro, for letting me off the hook. I think I will head out, if that’s okay. Nicki’ll give you a ride home, then?”

  “Sure.” Matt cuffed his shoulder. “I’ll be praying for you, man. This can’t be easy.”

  “Thanks, Matt.” Jack turned to head back to his car, shooting a half-hearted grin over his shoulder. “As ticked off as I am at God right now, I think I may need all the prayers I can get.”

  “You got ’em, bro.”

  “Jackson Alexander O’Bryen—halt!”

  A groan sandpapered Jack’s lips as he dropped his head, the sound of Lacey’s voice spurring him on at a quicker pace. He pretended he didn’t hear, fingers sweating while he closed in on his car, not ten feet away.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” A star of the women’s track team in high school, Lacey was apparently still up to snuff as she skidded to a stop beside him, huffing and puffing while she blocked his door. “You are not going anywhere, bucko. We’re one player down ’cause Nate has the flu, so you need to man up, O’Bryen.”

  Jack slacked a leg, arms folded with a patient smile. He tried to ignore how hot she looked in black biker shorts and a deep-gold Nike racer tank, the exact color of her eyes. The little brat actually had the nerve to jut her lower lip. “Come on, Jack, we need you.”

  He sighed. Yeah, I know the feeling.

  Prodding his waist from behind, she started bulldozing him toward the gym, obviously no intention of letting him get away. He fought the crack of a smile over this pushy peanut of a girl bullying him towards the door. “Come on, Lace, I don’t feel so good.”