Isle of Hope

by Julie Lessman

  She paused, moving in front to assess him through narrow eyes. “You look fine to me—what’s wrong with you?”

  Heartburn, you little brat. He rubbed the center of his chest. The lovesick kind. “Uh, I don’t know, acid reflux, maybe?”

  “Good.” She looped her arm through his and continued to drag him toward the building. “I have Pepcid AC in my purse, so we’ll fix you right up.”

  Jack groaned to cover up the chuckle on the tip of his tongue. “Were you this pushy when we were going together, Mike? Because if you were, I must have been a real wuss.”

  “More,” she said, grunting as she opened the door and pushed him through. “And for your information, O’Bryen, you’re still a wuss.” She wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something bad. “Just ask Jasmine.”

  “Jack—you’re here!” Kelly wasted no time glomming onto him, tighter than Lacey’s Spandex pants. “We’ve missed you, big boy.”

  “Good to see you again, Jack.” Chase flashed a set of perfect teeth as he extended a hand, pumping Jack’s arm like he was his long-lost brother. “We could use a little fresh blood,” he said, bobbling the volleyball back and forth. He paused to dispense a Gibb’s flick to the back of Matt’s head, muscles rolling along with the ball in his hands. “Your cousin is a little too close to the wedding to be much good at anything but mooning over Nicki.”

  “As it should be,” Nicki said with a snooty lift of her nose, snaking an arm around her fiancé’s waist. She gave Jack a coy wink. “We need some extra manpower on our team tonight since Matt’s head is in the clouds, obviously spellbound by his future wife.”

  “Hey …” Matt scooped Nicki close to nibble at the lobe of her ear, causing her to squeal. “It’s that provocative perfume you dab behind your ears, you little vamp, that weakens my skill at the game, like Samson and Delilah.”

  Jack chuckled while he loosened his polo from the waist of his jeans, breaking Kelly’s hold when he flipped his shirt out for more freedom to move. “You gotta have some skill in the first place, Ball, before it can be weakened.” He clasped his hands high overhead, stretching to limber up as he slanted a smile at Lacey. “And don’t go counting on me for manpower—somebody just called me a wuss.”

  Lacey’s chin shot up. “That’s because you were being a baby, Dr. Jock, whining about heartburn when you know we need your help.”

  “Mmm … wuss, baby, whiner?” Chase took his position on the other side of the net along with Justin and Kelly and the rest of their team. “Sounds like a rift on the team that we’ll be glad to exploit. Belly up to the net, ladies and gentlemen, and we’ll serve up a little crow.”

  Matt circled an arm over both Lacey’s and Jack’s shoulders, leading them to their side of the net with an evil grin. “Think you two can kiss and make up long enough to score us a win? Ouch!” He grabbed his side where Jack speared him with an elbow, pretending offense despite the gleam of tease in his eyes. “Hey, man, that’s my serving side.” He sauntered off to the front of the net, but not before delivering another cocky grin. “Now that’s the kind of punch we need tonight, O’Bryen, so let’s give it all the pent-up fury you’ve got.”

  And give it he did, dominating the first two games with powerful serves that even pretty-boy preacher had trouble sending back his way.

  “Yes! Perfect kill, Doctor Jock,” Lacey shouted, leaping into the air when Jack aced the final point to score the third win of the night. She high-fived Sarah and Nicki while Chase ambled over to shake Jack’s hand.

  “I forgot just how deadly you could be, O’Bryen,” Preacher Boy said with a gleam of white, scuffing the back of his neck.

  “And with acid reflux, too.” Lacey sashayed over with her hands on her hips.

  Chase tossed the ball back and forth with a genuine smile. “Well, that does wonders for my humility, I suppose, so I guess I owe you my thanks.”

  “We need to celebrate!” Lacey hooked her arm through Jack’s. “This calls for pizza at the best—Sweet Melissa’s!”

  Jack eased his arm free of Lacey’s, hoping to placate her with his it’s-going-to-be-okay doctor smile he’d perfected in residency. “Sorry, Lace, but I have an early day tomorrow—office meeting at the crack of dawn before the first appointments of the day.”

  “Oh, poop!” Her brows crashed into a little-girl frown that was so adorable, he was tempted to kiss her forehead and send her home with a lollipop. “But it won’t be the same without you, Jack—you’re our MVP. And you got by fine in residency with little or no sleep, right?”

  He couldn’t resist. He tapped her on the nose. “Yes, but I’m also working extra hours since I’m taking off Thursday and Friday for the wedding, remember? Besides, it’s more like MBP—most bleary-eyed player, so I really need to go home.”

  “Double poop,” she muttered, sidling over to stand next to Chase with a pouty fold of her arms. “Okay, but Melissa’s has always been your favorite, Brye, so I hope you know what you’re missing.”

  Uh, wouldn’t worry about that ... He managed a smile. And we’re not talkin’ pizza. Giving her a wink, he shouted his goodbyes to the group and made his way to the door, grateful for the brisk breeze that cooled the sweat at the back of his neck.

  “Hey, Jack!”

  He glanced over his shoulder, fighting the scowl that itched to break free. Chase caught up with him in an easy sprint, complete with the warm smile he always wore on his perfect Abercrombie face. “I know you have to get going, but can you spare a few minutes?”

  Jack paused, the hint of a frown digging deep at the bridge of his nose. “Uh … I guess so, sure.” He turned to walk back to where Chase stood about ten feet away, glancing at his watch for good measure. “What’s up?”

  “I was wondering if you’d help me lug a few boxes from the church lobby up to the second-floor nursery—new cribs, changing tables, you know, delivered today.”

  Brows in a scrunch, Jack hesitated, wondering why in the heck the pretty-boy pastor needed him with plenty of able-bodied guys still inside.

  As if reading his mind, Chase shifted, hands propped loose on his hips. “Seems like the gang’s pretty anxious to head out after tearing down the nets, so I hate to ask them. Besides,” he said with a broad grin, “hopin’ to pick your brain on a pediatric problem, if you don’t mind.”

  Mind? Jack’s jaw locked. Sure. You’ve picked the woman I love, so why not pick my brain too? Obliging with a stiff nod, he directed a hand toward the church vestibule, following Chase to the front door without a word. He waited while Preacher Boy dug a key from his pocket and let them both in, flipping the lights in the vestibule.

  Six mammoth boxes sat dead center, and Jack resisted the urge to groan. A few? His mouth went flat. Somebody needed to tell ol’ Pastor Chase that bald-faced exaggeration bordered dangerously close to a lie.

  “I know it looks like a lot, but they’re not too heavy—just awkward.”

  Tell me about it. Jack hefted one side of a box in blatant silence while Chase lifted the other, thinking he might actually want to chat and get to know this guy if not for Lacey and his mistaken devotion to God. As is, he far preferred “awkward” over too friendly with some Bible-toting pretty-boy trying to win his quota of souls for the month. Especially when one of those souls belonged to the girl he had once hoped to marry. Clamping his jaw to stunt all discourse, Jack gave Preacher Boy nothing but grunts, heavy breathing, and one-word responses, no desire to get friendly with the competition.

  “Thanks, buddy.” Chase slapped Jack on the back after the last box thudded to the nursery floor, and turning out the lights, he led him back down the steps to where they came in. Chase nodded toward the sanctuary. “Mind giving me a few minutes before you leave?”

  Yes. Jack glanced at his watch again. “Sure,” he said in a clipped tone, trailing Preacher Boy as he slid into one of the last pews, moving in to give Jack plenty of room.

  Perched on the edge of the seat, Chase stared straight ahead, elbows on knees
and chin resting on clasped hands. His usual warm and out-going air was suddenly as quiet and serious as the large, wooden-beamed church lit by the dimmest of lights. “I appreciate your time, Jack,” he said quietly, eyes meeting Jack’s for the first time. “I imagine as a doctor, people hit you up all the time for your opinion, so I apologize for doing the same.”

  One arm over the back of the pew, Jack lifted a shoulder in feigned nonchalance, shades of the caring minister he had once hoped to be rising to the surface. “No more than a pastor, I suppose,” he said with a penetrating stare, a strange longing flooding his soul over a career choice that might have been. “What’s on your mind?”

  Chase exhaled loudly and sat back. “It’s my little sister, Chloe—stepsister, really, since my mom remarried after she and my dad divorced.” A faint smile tipped his lips as he stared into the sanctuary, as if seeing something other than gray padded pews and a platform with screens and wall sculptures. “She’s only five, but man, what a pistol,” he whispered, cramping Jack’s gut when he glanced over with a sheen of tears in his eyes. “She lives with my mom and her dad in a small town in Missouri, and the local doc—a G.P. with a family practice—is concerned she might have something called retinoblastoma.” He paused. “You know what that is, right?”

  Jack nodded, the very word like a punch in his gut. “Cancerous tumor of the eye,” he said quietly, his mind instantly reverting to medical mode. “What are her symptoms, Chase?”

  His chest expanded and contracted with great effort. “She was having trouble seeing in school according to my mom—double vision mostly—right about the same time she started complaining her eyes hurt. The local eye doc fit her for glasses, but that didn’t seem to help, but when her eyes started to cross, we all got pretty worried. The doctor apparently consulted with a colleague in San Diego who concurs that Chloe might have this cancer.”

  A nerve in Chase’s jaw flickered as he blinked several times, as if to clear moisture. “He said she needs a full eye exam, including a CT scan or MRI and maybe an ultrasound. The problem is, that kind of medical help is three hours away and they don’t have insurance since my stepfather was recently laid off.” He straightened then, shoulders squaring along with his jaw, reminding Jack of the Navy Seal Matt said he once used to be. “So I guess I’m asking straight out, Jack—do you know anything I can do to get Chloe the help that she needs?”

  Jack pulled his business card out of his wallet and handed it over. “Absolutely, Chase, and the timing is perfect because a rep from the National Cancer Institute was in last week. So shoot me an email and I’ll send you information about St. Jude’s Research Hospital in St. Louis. It’s the only pediatric specialty cancer center the National Cancer Institute funds, so it’s totally committed to caring for and supporting children with cancer regardless of a family’s financial or healthcare resources. They also provide free lodging to patient families who live more than thirty-five miles from the hospital, so all you need is a doctor’s referral, which I can provide, and we’ll get the paperwork started. How does that sound?”

  The muscles in Chase’s throat convulsed several times before he was able to speak. “Like the miracle I’ve been praying for, Doc,” he said in a hoarse voice, extending his hand to shake Jack’s with a firm grip that seemed to bond the two men together. “Thank you, Jack. You don’t know what this means to me.”

  Jack rose, any animosity he might have had for Chase Griffin siphoning right out at the look of sheer gratitude on the man’s face. “Oh, I think I do. I spent three years in a pedes internship and residency, remember? Seeing kids and families get the help that they need is one of the greatest joys I’ve ever known. Trust me—it’s my pleasure.”

  “Even so, I’d like to pay you back, if I could,” he said carefully, probing Jack with an intense look that signaled the tables were turning once again, making Chase the “healer” instead of Jack. He stood to his feet, the gloss of moisture in his eyes suddenly gone, replaced by the calm confidence of a pastor. “And I have a feeling that maybe I can.”

  Jack waved him away. “No payment necessary, Rev; helping Chloe is payment enough.”

  Chase dipped his head, eyes in a squint as he studied Jack with more than a little curiosity. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  Chase scratched behind his ear, as if in deep thought. “I guess I’m wondering why you’ve stayed away from volleyball this last month. I mean you’re clearly one of the best on the team,” he said with a glint of tease in his eyes, “and it’s no secret you’re a competitor to the core.” He butted against the back of the pew, eyeing Jack with a casual fold of arms. “And I know you’re not all that big on church, but volleyball and pizza in a gym hardly qualify for that.”

  Jack strove for an air of nonchalance despite the uptick of his pulse. “No real reason, just busy I guess.”

  “Really?” Chase angled to face Jack head-on, one thigh balanced flat on the back of the pew. “’Cause I kind of get the feeling you might be avoiding Lacey and me.”

  Heat circled Jack’s collar like a ring of fire. “Not sure why you would think that.”

  “Probably since you tend to get moody whenever I’m around her,” he said, gaze focused on Jack like a laser. “And if that’s true, I think you should know we’re only friends.”

  Jack blinked, Chase’s statement catching him off-guard. “What?”

  “Yeah, for a couple of weeks now, as a matter of fact.” He rubbed his jaw with the back of his hand, as if talking about it didn’t set all that well. “She told me she had feelings for some other guy and hoped we could be friends. It wasn’t my idea, of course, because frankly I like Lacey a lot and was hoping to pursue something more.”

  A tic twittered in Jack’s cheek against his will.

  “Personally,” Chase continued in a matter-of-fact tone that seemed at odds with a knowing look in his eyes, “I think the ‘other guy’ is you.”

  Jack’s body flashed cold and then hot, sweat slicking both his palms and the back of his neck. His voice came out as a croak. “What?”

  “Yeah, she pretty much implied that, in my opinion, so I guess the one thing I want to know is …” He pierced Jack with a stony look straight out of the Navy Seal handbook. “What are you going to do about it, O’Bryen?”

  Jack slowly sank down into the pew, barely aware how he got there, mind racing as fast as his pulse. Lacey was still in love with him? He swallowed hard. The little brat never let on once in the last month she’d hung out with his sisters and him—on the dock, at the camp, at his house for games of basketball and wiffle ball. His eyelids drifted closed, seeing every nuance of her face across the patio table during dinners with his family, hearing the music of her laughter when she’d finger-flick food at him behind his mom’s back. The familiar scent of peach in her hair when’d held her from behind, teaching her how to swing a golf club in his backyard.

  Sensing Chase waiting on his answer, Jack expelled a heavy breath, head bowed while he kneaded his temples with forefinger and thumb. “There’s nothing I can do about it, Chase. Lacey’s made it pretty clear she wants a guy who feels the way she does about God, and the truth is, I don’t.” He sagged back against the seat, eyes wandering into a distant stare. “At least not anymore.” A harsh laugh tumbled from his throat. “The old ‘unequally yoked’ glitch back to bite me in the butt. God knows how I wrestled with it myself back when Lacey veered off the path her senior year.” A sad smile lined his lips as he saw her in his mind’s eye, the pixie vamp who’d tease him with kisses and more, tempting him with moonlight skinny-dipping that’d taken every ounce of willpower he had. But he loved her then—body and soul—and he loved her now, enough to be friends, at least, despite the dull ache in his chest.

  He looked up at Chase, an unlikely confessor given Jack’s aversion to him before. “Kind of ironic to love her like I do, you know? Only to be tripped up by a precept that means absolutely nothing to me anymore. And now everything t
o her.” His chest expanded and depleted with a noisy blast of air. “No, as much as either of us may harbor feelings from the past, it appears we’ll have to settle for being only friends.”

  Lips tight, Chase nodded. “Well, I have to admit—you and she sure carry it off well,” he continued, drawing Jack’s gaze once again, “but I have a gut feeling you’re both pretty miserable with the way that it is. So as an occasionally annoying pastor wired to ‘fix’ things in people, I’m going to ask you one more time, O’Bryen—what are you going to do about it?”

  “I just told you—”

  “No,” he emphasized, cutting him off, “what are you going to do about God, Jack? After all, if He’s the obstacle between you and Lacey and you claim to love her like you do—”

  “I do love her,” he shot back, prickles of their prior enmity niggling once again.

  A trace of humor glinted in Chase’s eyes despite the stern set of his jaw. “Then I’d say it’s about time you man up, Dr. Jock, and get back in the game.”

  “Meaning what?” The clip of Jack’s tone was as frosty as his eyes.

  Chase straightened to his full six-foot-two height before strolling toward the other end of the pew. “Meaning you need to unload that bag of garbage you’ve been carrying around since your father had an affair.”

  “He was a freakin’ pastor!” Jack shouted, fury scalding his face.

  Chase paused in the aisle, hands slung low on his hips. “Yeah, I know. Those sorry excuses for human beings who have blood in their veins just like you.”

  Shooting to his feet, Jack bolted from the pew. “I don’t have to take this crap.”

  “Sure you do, Jack,” Chase called, a note of levity in his tone while Jack stalked toward the door. “Unless Lacey’s not worth it …?”

  Jack ground to a stop at the door, sucker-punched by a preacher with a smirk in his voice. He hung his head, nerves screaming to cut loose with a fist. He slammed a palm to the wooden door, the sound echoing through the church like Chase’s words in his mind.