Isle of Hope

by Julie Lessman

  He paralyzed her with a possessive kiss that obliterated all protest, any denial utterly lost in a groan that ached all the way up to her lips, which now trembled more than her limbs. Breathing shallow, she just stood there with eyes closed as if in a trance, barely aware he had pulled away for the chaotic beat of her pulse and the traitorous thrum of her body.

  “Uh, you know, Mike, we’re going to have a definite problem if that’s how you kiss all of your friends …”

  Eyes popping open, she shoved him away, the heat of his kiss scorching all the way to her cheeks. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she rasped, shock overriding all desire as she stared, jaw distended. “That is not proper behavior between friends—”

  His silenced her with a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You are so cute and flustered when you’re caught in a fib, you know that?”

  She stomped her foot. “I don’t care what you think, Jack O’Bryen, I am not fibbing.”

  Slacking a leg, he propped his hands low on his hips. “It’s not what I think, Lace, it’s what Chase thinks.” He folded his arms with a smile that might have been a smirk in better light. “Unless you’re calling Preacher Boy a liar?”

  Stomach cramping, she whirled to stare out at the moon-striped water, arms stiffly crossed. All fight slowly siphoned out over a truth she so desperately wanted to deny. “No, I’m calling him a big mouth. He had no right to say anything.”

  “But he did,” he whispered, his strong arms wrapping around her waist from behind. “So what I want to know, Alycia Anne Carmichael, what I want to hear from the lips of the woman I love is …” Her heart stopped when his mouth skimmed along the nape of her neck with the softest of kisses, unleashing shudders through her body while he slowly feathered her ear. “That you still love and want me too.”

  Her eyelids drifted closed, the words beating a frenzied drum of consent against her ribcage, just aching to break free. Yes, Jack, I still love you and yes, I still want you too.

  But I can’t …

  She slowly turned to face him, her face streaked with tears as she cupped his jaw with a rush of love that almost buckled her at the knees. “It won’t work, Jack,” she whispered, “no matter what feelings I may have.” Her throat convulsed with grief. “I need a man of faith.”

  A slow grin eased across his lips as he tugged her in close. “Then, lucky for me, I am.”

  Her heart skidded to a stop. “What do you mean?” she whispered, not daring to breathe.

  “I mean …” He cradled her face, taking his time to skim her mouth with a gentle kiss that seemed to take on a life of its own, flaming into a passion that wrenched a moan from his throat. He jerked back, eyes on fire and his breathing as ragged as hers. “God help me, Lace, I’m so crazy about you, I want to marry you right now.”

  Ignoring the throb of blood in her veins, she fisted his silk vest with both hands and rattled him but good. “Focus, O’Bryen!” she shouted, enunciating each syllable with a harsh whisper that all but spit in his face. “What-did-you-mean?”

  His teeth flashed white in the moonlight as he leaned in to nibble at the lobe of her ear. “It means you’re out of excuses, Mike, for turning me down,” he whispered, his chuckle warm against the goose bumps that popped on her skin. “I made my peace with God.”

  She froze as if he’d just tossed her into the drink, and with a choked swallow of air, she launched back, hands all but gouging his arms as she gaped in shock. “B-But how? “W-When?” Her heart was stumbling along with her words.

  Laughing, he swept her up and settled back in the chair with her on his lap. “You might say I had a ‘Come-to-Jesus’ meeting with your ex-boyfriend,” he said with a quick nuzzle of her neck, “who turned out to be a pretty decent guy.” His mouth wandered to her ear, and she squirmed out of his reach, suddenly short on patience as she two-fisted his vest once again. “Details, O’Bryen, not lip service. Not one more kiss, bucko, until I have all the facts, you got it? Now start from the beginning, Jack, and don’t leave anything out.”

  His eyes took on a dangerous gleam. “Ah, but there will be kisses,” he said with a grin, fingers fondling a loose curl from her hair. “Lots and lots of kisses …” Depositing a kiss to her forehead, he bundled her close and told her about the night Chase cornered him at the church, first to wrangle his help moving boxes, and then for medical advice for his sister.

  “He’s a smooth one, Lace, I’ll give ’em that,” he said with a low chuckle, the respect and affection in his tone making her smile as she rested against his chest. “Softening me up with talk of his little sister who has cancer, near breaking my heart. He was so blasted grateful when I told him I could set her up with the St. Jude Foundation, we almost formed a bond, you know? And then he reeled me in like a speckled trout on a shrimp popping cork in high season.” His chest rose and fell beneath her head as his voice took on a gruff quality that told her he was battling his emotions. “I owe him my life, Lace,” he whispered, “for bringing me back to the God Who saved my sorry soul. Even got me to pray for my dad if you can believe that, drilling it home that forgiveness and prayer is the only way to be set free from the past.”

  A grin curved on her lips as she stroked his chest with her palm. “Straight out of the Jack O’Bryen handbook, as I recall.”

  His chuckle rumbled in her ear. “Yeah—dirty pool if I ever saw it.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, his scent enveloping her along with his arms. “So I’m free now, Lace. Free to be the man God’s called me to be and free to pick up where we left off … if you’ll let me.”

  “If I’ll let you, huh?” Squeezing him in a ferocious hug, she pulled back to study him.

  He smiled and tipped his head. “What?”

  Her eyes narrowed in tease, but her pulse slowed into a painful thud, heart wavering over a tiny seed of concern. “You’re not just doing this to win me over, are you, Jack? I mean, you’ve recommitted to God for yourself and not just for me, right?”

  His grin mellowed into the serious and sensible boy she’d fallen in love with so very long ago. “As much as I love you, Lace …” He feathered her jaw with the pad of his thumb. “And I do—if Chase hadn’t reawakened my passion for God that night, we wouldn’t be here right now. Not only because I couldn’t do this with a straight face, but because I couldn’t do it to you. I love you too much to go against your faith, Mike, and the desire of your heart. But …” His arms slid to her waist in a loose hold while he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “If you’d like to see a little more proof, Carmichael, I’m more than willing to revert to friendship again and put the lip service on hold till you’re absolutely sure …”

  Warm shivers fanned through her as she stroked the curve of his jaw, stomach quivering as much as her hand. “Not sure I could handle that after tonight, O’Bryen,” she whispered, throat ducking when her gaze drifted to his mouth, “so I may have to resort to faith …”

  A slow grin traveled his lips. “What a novel idea.”

  Fondling a wisp of her hair, he leaned in to nuzzle her mouth in a gentle mating that flooded her with joy like high tide on a warm, summer day. His lips trailed to caress the soft flesh of her ear before he whispered his love. With every glorious word, her heart beat faster and faster until she was sure she might faint.

  Jack—her Jack—had found his way home! And in doing so—God willing—she would find hers …

  In his arms for the rest of her life.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Run, Wesley, Run!” Jack grinned ear to ear as he cheered the towheaded orphan on, the Camp Hope outfield scrambling to retrieve the ball that had sailed over their heads. The tiny legs of the ten-year-old batter pumped as furiously as Jack’s heart as he waved the runners from second and third all the way home, puffs of powdered dust billowing in their wake. Before the all-girl outfield could even throw the ball back, Wesley slid in to score feet first, kicking up a storm of dirt that left the catcher—aka his girlfriend, Lacey—in a fog. With a w
hoop that rivaled the shrieks and cheers of his all-boy team, Jack hoisted the little guy in the air. “Wow, we needed that dinger, slugger, so great job.” He tossed a sideways grin to Will Hogan, his co-captain. “Way to put those girls in their place, eh, Will?”

  “I’ll give you a dinger,” Cat called from the pitcher’s mound, her eyes as thin as her smile as she slapped the ball back and forth in her glove. “Just step up to the plate, Dr. Jock, and I’ll be more than happy to put you in your proper place.”

  “Ah-ah-ah …” Jack hooked an arm around Wes, his grin deliberately diabolical. “Good sportsmanship is the hallmark of great athletes, ladies, along with the win.” He gave Lacey a wink as she seared him with a paper-thin glare. “But then I guess you wouldn’t know about that.”

  “That’s it.” Lacey hurled her catcher’s mitt down and stomped to where Jack stood. She thumped his chest so hard, he was tempted to pin the offensive hand behind her back and kiss the scowl off her face. “You are going down in flames, bucko, and trust me—every girl on this team will be basking in the heat.”

  Jack couldn’t resist. He snatched her wrist mid-thump, the burn in those deadly eyes sparking more than a little heat of his own. His voice lowered to husky as he leaned in, locking wits with the little brat who’d stolen his heart. “For your information, Mike, I’ve already gone down in flames big time and trust me, sweetheart—I’m loving every shiver of heat.”

  The fire in her eyes shot straight to her cheeks, which now sported a healthy sunburn that had nothing to do with the sun. “Yeah? Well, bundle up, doc, because I hear a cold front’s coming through.” She spun on her heel, but not before he saw the faintest twitch of a smile on those beautiful lips. Lips that for the last three weeks had laughed, teased, and given him a glimpse into the soul of the woman he hoped to marry. A forever kind of love that had lain dormant till she reignited his hope and set his heart aflame.

  Not to mention his body.

  “Okay, guys, bottom of the ninth and we’re winning 5 to 3, so let’s wrap this baby up.” Jack rallied his team with a loud clap of hands. “Only one out to go, so we gotta make it count.” He grimaced when a gangly boy named Henry stepped up to the plate with several blind swings, because “count” it did—as a third out. “You’ll get ’em next time, sport,” Jack said with a pat of his back, enjoying these Saturday morning softball games Will Hogan set up for the kids.

  The tables turned when the first two batters on the other team put a girl on second and third, and immediately some of Jack’s good humor fizzled as their lead slipped away.

  “Whoops—looks like your team’s putting us in our place again, Jack,” Cat called from the sidelines with a definite smirk on her face. “The winner’s column!” She high-fived Shannon while Lacey gave a thumbs-up from third base where she was coaching for the next run.

  Jack ignored her, focusing on Debbie instead as she shuffled to the plate, her usual spunk lagging behind like the bat she dragged in the dirt. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, bending to study her more closely. Concern wedged his brow when he noticed a faint tinge of blue in her lips. He grabbed her little hand, rubbing her knuckles while he eyed the beds of her nails, pulse stuttering over their pale color. No trace of blue, but definitely not pink like they should be. “Have you been chewing blueberry bubble gum?” he asked, relief coursing when she nodded her head. He placed a palm to her flushed face and forehead, noting a slight warmth that could easily be from the heat of the day. “Deb, you’re warm, so I think you need to sit this bat out, sweetheart.”

  “No—please!” All spunk was back in play as she stepped away to demonstrate several hard swings, her little chin thrusting high while she pled her case. “I’m the best hitter on the team, Dr. Jack, and if you take me out, it’ll be pure cheating.”

  A smile threatened his solemn doctor manner as he stared her down. “Open your mouth, young lady,” he ordered, and fought a grin at her blue tongue and blueberry breath. He heaved a heavy sigh and stood to his feet. “Okay, kiddo, you’re cleared for this one bat only. No running for the rest of the day, and if I catch you, I’ll order a nap. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Dr. Jack,” she said in a sweet sing-song voice that made him grin. A twinkle lit her brown eyes as she teased him with a sassy sway of hips. “Miss Lacey said we’re gonna make monkeys out of you guys, but you’re not gonna make me take a nap if we do, are ya?”

  He balled a fist into his catcher’s glove as he squatted behind the plate. “Nope, but you gotta win first, you little hooligan, so batter up.”

  “Okay, sweet stuff,” Will bellowed with a flash of teeth, “show me what you got.”

  Thud. Jack’s glove swallowed the ball whole as Wes shouted “steeeee-rike!”

  “You can do it, Debbie, eye on the ball,” Shannon called from the bench where Cat was biting the nails on both hands like she was nibbling corn on the cob at the fundraiser picnic.

  “Come on, Deb—put a little sass in that swing,” Jack whispered, earning a gap-tooth grin from the little dickens who’d probably rob him of a win.

  “Strike two!” Wes shouted with a squeal, apparently the team’s self-appointed umpire.

  Debbie dug in, grinding the toes of her Keds into the dirt as she positioned herself just so, her little tush way out in the air. The ball came cruising her way, and Jack held his breath.

  Crrrr-rack! The ball went into orbit and so did the bat as Debbie took off like a rocket. She rounded first base to the shrieks of her team before anyone could get a glove on the ball.

  “Go, Debbie, go!” Lacey screamed at third, bouncing in the air like she was a cop on a flippin’ trampoline, waving the other runners in. Both girls whooshed across home plate, squealing so loud Jack winced at the sound. And the score.

  The winning run was rounding second, but her pace had slowed considerably, and to Jack, it seemed like Debbie was running in slow motion, the hollers of her teammates fading into the background like a dream. She staggered at third, almost tripping on the bag, and when she labored to make it home, his heart clutched at the gleam of sweat on her face.

  “Jack!” Will’s shout drew his gaze as the ball flew through the air, slamming into his glove just as Debbie crossed the plate.

  Pandemonium exploded, but all Jack could see was the deathly pale little girl who slammed into his legs before she collapsed to the ground.

  “Debbie!” Hurling the glove and ball away, Jack dropped to his knees, heart constricting as he pressed his middle and index finger to her throat, the pulse rate as sluggish as Debbie had been before her bat. “Debbie?” He forced his voice to remain calm, hoping to mask the anxiety clawing in his chest, but she remained unconscious. “Lacey—call 911,” he shouted. “Cat, Shan—get the kids out of here.”

  Frenzy swirled around him like the fear in his gut. Focusing on Debbie, he shut out Lacey’s shaky voice on the phone, the sobs and whimpers of the kids, and Cat’s and Shan’s soothing whispers as they herded them all away. His eyelids flickered. “Please Lord, keep her safe …”

  “What can I do?” Will asked, desperation threading his tone as he knelt by Jack’s side.

  “Give me your glove,” Jack ordered, bunching it on top of his catcher’s mitt to elevate Debbie’s feet. He felt for a pulse again, and this time it was barely there. Tilting Debbie’s head back, he placed the heel of his hand on her breastbone and gave thirty fast compressions before placing his ear close to her mouth, praying for the slightest sound or feel of blueberry breath.

  Nothing.

  “God, please,” he whispered, pinching Debbie’s nose closed as he covered her mouth with his own, giving her two rescue breaths that made her chest rise. Barely aware of Miss Myra and Will hovering, he continued compressions, the wail of a siren coming closer and closer.

  It didn’t take long for the paramedics to take control, quickly transporting her to the ambulance after her breathing kicked back in. She was still unconscious when they wheeled the gurney away, her body so tin
y and frail.

  “Jack … will she be okay?”

  He turned at the sound of Lacey’s nasal whisper, her face wet and splotched with grief. Hooking her waist, he bundled her in his arms, resting his head on top of hers. “I don’t know, Lace,” he whispered. “Her history of congenital heart disease complicates things a lot.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “But one thing I do know is God answers prayer, which is what we’ll be doing on the way to the hospital.” He gave her a quick squeeze. “Let’s get moving.”

  Cat and Shan volunteered to stay behind with the kids while Miss Myra and Will followed Lacey and Jack to Memorial, endless prayers winging high. Upon arrival, Jack left them in the waiting room to race to Pedes ER, zeroing in on the whirl of activity around triage.

  The nurse looked up when he pushed the curtain aside. “Jack, what are you doing here?”

  “She’s a patient of mine, Connie, from Camp Hope.” His gaze locked on the rise and fall of Debbie’s chest, grateful her breathing appeared to be an even rhythm despite her unconscious state. He caressed the girl’s clammy forehead to check for fever, her eyelids closed and tinged blue like her lips. “Any signs of cognizance?”

  The triage nurse glanced up briefly, continuing to record Debbie’s vitals while staff milled in and out. “The paramedics said her eyes flickered open in the ambulance and that she moaned and said a few words before passing back out, but nothing since. Can you give me her history, Jack, and we’ll get her registered?”

  He nodded, a knot of worry ducking in his throat as he assessed Debbie’s limp body. It felt strange being on this side of the stethoscope, watching a little girl he loved hang in the balance. Mind numb, he filled Connie in on Debbie’s condition and what happened before she collapsed, finally conferring with the attending physician, Greg Mathews, a buddy of his from med school.