Isle of Hope

by Julie Lessman

  Ben’s teeth ground tight behind his mask of indifference. Without another word, he started past him.

  Adam stayed him with a hand. “Tess deserves a good man like you, my friend. I’m happy for you both.”

  Frustration boiling over, Ben spun around, jerking his arm from Adam’s hold. “Get this now, O’Bryen, and get it good,” he hissed, anger and bitterness almost choking his air, “you never have been nor ever will be ‘my friend,’ so you can just pack up your phony pastor act and get out of my way.”

  With a strength that belied his poor health, Adam’s grip locked him in place, his look of compassion stopping Ben cold. “I can’t,” he said quietly, the force of his calm carrying the weight of a command. “I’ve hurt you and Tess before, Ben—I won’t do it again, and that’s exactly what will happen if you walk away, bitter and angry.”

  Ben slung his hand away. “I have a right to be bitter and angry,” he ground out, all but spitting the words in Adam’s face.

  “Yes, you do have a right.” Adam’s grasp tightened, the intensity in his tone matching the fire in his eyes. For the very first time, his calm appeared shaken, replaced by an urgency that stilled the breath in Ben’s lungs. He stared, swallowing hard. “What I did was inexcusable and unforgivable, but I’m not asking you to forgive for my sake, Ben, I’m asking you to do it for Tess and for you.”

  Ben couldn’t move, his body rooted to the floor while his pulse slowed to a crawl.

  With a harsh draw of air, Adam quietly released his hold, his gaze fused to Ben’s. “Tess deserves a marriage without baggage, a clean start, and so do you. If you take your anger and bitterness towards me into your relationship, it will deny you the fullness of God’s blessing as surely as cancer has denied me my health. Take it from the worst of fools who lost it all—unforgiveness is a cancer you cannot afford. And pride only metastasizes it, spreading the poison throughout the entire body.” He expelled a fractured sigh that seemed to siphon all of his energy except for a resilient spark of hope, which now glowed with that same strength and passion that had once drawn Ben to God. “I know you may not believe this, Ben, but I love Tess and you deeply, far more than I was ever capable of before. So I’m asking—from the depth of my soul—will you forgive me?” He slowly extended his hand, his gaze glossy with regret. “Please?”

  Emotion thickened in Ben’s throat until it choked the air from his lungs, his body teetering on the precipice of decision like his refusal teetered on the tip of his tongue. This was the “best friend” who had stabbed him in the back. He’d robbed Ben of his friendship, his marriage, and his faith. And now he was robbing him of Tess as well. Ben stared at Adam’s hand, trembling the slightest bit while the man who offered it stood steady and strong, his humble gaze unflinching.

  Deep down in the recesses of his mind, his memory told Ben that Adam O’Bryen didn’t deserve his forgiveness anymore than he’d deserved Ben’s friendship years ago. A stir in his gut told him he had a right to hate him, a right to walk away and never speak to him again.

  Who, though He was God, did not demand and cling to His rights as God, but laid aside His mighty power and glory … and humbled Himself … to actually die a criminal’s death on a cross.

  Ben’s body went cold as his eyelids sealed shut, a heart-wrenching ache in his conscience unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Jesus Christ laid down His right to be God to die for others. How could Ben not lay down his right to hold a grudge against Adam?

  Conviction pierced like a lance through the breast of his Savior, and exhaling a quivering breath, Ben knew he had to let go. Not just his bitterness toward Adam, but the hate and bitterness that had imprisoned him all of his life.

  Toward his father, toward Karen, toward Adam.

  And toward himself.

  Body shaking, Ben opened his eyes, his gaze alighting on the hand before him, which now trembled like his own as he finally reached to take it. Adam’s grip was strong and sure, unleashing a peace that calmed Ben’s racing pulse. Glancing up, he caught his breath at the depth of caring he saw in Adam’s eyes. Not human love—fallible, conditional, imperfect—but the love of Christ shining like a beacon of hope in a lost world that had no earthly clue Jesus Christ was the God of Hope.

  The God of Healing.

  The God Whose love never fails.

  “I guess this means we’re friends again,” Adam said with a measured smile. “And I suppose now you’ll be wantin’ that twenty I owe you from Super Bowl 2006?”

  Humor twitched at the edges of Ben’s mouth as he seared him with a half-lidded gaze. “I suppose it does,” he said, adjusting his sleeves with a cool look. “With interest.” And turning on his heel, he strode down the hall without another word, a smile hovering all the way.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “I do believe this is my lucky night, Mrs. O’Bryen,” Jack whispered in Lacey’s ear on the dance floor, nipping at her earlobe to the strains of You Belong to Me. Warm shivers skated her spine straight into her stomach, unleashing a loop-the-loop of heat that thinned the oxygen in her lungs. Sparkles of light winked like stars in the canopy roof of the tent Daddy had rented for his backyard, Lacey’s stomach fluttering like the shimmer of canvas in the breeze. Jack molded her close while a galaxy of delicate Japanese lanterns swayed overhead, tissue-paper moons in an alabaster sky. “Yes, ma’am, lucky indeed.” The tease in his eyes twinkled more than the ficus trees edging the open-air tent. “I don’t believe you’ve stepped on my toes once tonight.”

  Her eyelids flickered closed when his mouth strayed to nuzzle the nape of her neck, and her breathing instantly ramped up along with her pulse. “Well, I’ve had time to practice since prom, Dr. O’Bryen,” she said in a ragged voice, arms curling snugly around his waist. She gave him a squeeze, fingers fondling the ties at the back of his pinstripe vest.

  “And practice makes perfect.” His chuckle teased hot against her skin as the music came to an end, along with a balmy breeze, compliments of an unseasonably warm evening. “And not just for dancing,” he whispered, his husky words feathering her ear.

  “Lacey! Jack!”

  She glanced up while Jack hooked an arm over her shoulder, the sight of her new mother-in-law bounding across the white slate dance floor bringing a smile to her face. “Adam’s worn out,” Tess said, “so I’m taking him and Davey home, but I wanted to make sure ten o’clock is not too early for brunch and presents tomorrow before you head for the airport.”

  “No, ten’s perfect.” Lacey’s cheeks warmed as she embraced Tess, a bit embarrassed at the implication that she and Jack might want to sleep in.

  “Is Dad okay?” Jack’s nervous gaze flicked to where Adam appeared deep in conversation with Ben at their families’ table.

  “Yes, Jack, he’s fine,” Tess reassured, cupping her son’s face. “He said it’s been the best day of his life, so no need to worry.”

  Jack’s jaw tightened as he gripped his mother in a tight hug. “I love you, Mom,” he whispered, “and I am so glad we’re going to be right next door for the next six months.”

  “Me too, sweetheart.” She curled an arm to Lacey’s waist. “Especially since I have a new daughter to dote on.” She glanced at her watch. “Oops! Almost ten. Better run, but I’ll be back shortly.” She paused, gaze flitting from Jack to Lacey and back. “You will still be here when I come back, won’t you?”

  “Yes, of cour—” Lacey halted, glancing up in surprise when Jack pinched her arm.

  “Actually, Mom,” he interrupted, “I think Lace and I will head out too.” He rubbed the back of his neck while he managed a yawn. “We’re both pretty beat.”

  A twinkle lit Tess’s eyes as she patted Jack’s cheek. “Sure you are. Well, come say goodnight to your dad and the others first, then I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  She darted off, and Lacey peered up at Jack, head tipped in question. “We’re leaving our own reception early?”

  A boyish grin eased across his face as
he ushered her off the floor, fielding comments and congrats from guests on the way. “Yeah, if that’s okay. There’s something I want to do.”

  “Uh-huh … I’ll just bet there is,” Lacey teased, the wayward bent of Jack’s smile warming her cheeks.

  After dispensing hugs and goodbyes to their families, they made their way to the head table where Matt and Nicki were just getting up to dance. “Hey, you’re not leaving yet, are you?” Matt asked, brows in a pinch. “The D.J.’s just warming up.”

  “Sorry, bro, you and Nicki’ll have to hold down the fort—Mrs. O’Bryen and I are tired.”

  “Well, not too, I hope.” Nicki bumped Lacey’s hip with a sly grin before she crushed her in a hug. “Oh, Lace, I’m so happy for you both.”

  “Thanks, Nick—for everything. The shower, helping me to set up a wedding in record time, and for being my maid of honor.” Lacey fought the onslaught of tears as she squeezed her back. “And for being the best sister I never had.”

  “Oh, poo! You did the same for me, Lace, and we may not be actual sisters, but we’re blood, which is close enough for me.”

  Jack plucked his jacket off the back of his chair. “Since you’re so good at grabbing the limelight, Ball, can you keep everybody busy while Lace and I duck out?”

  Matt slapped Jack on the shoulder with a wide grin. “Sure thing, bro.” He glanced over his shoulder at the D.J. “Just let me get my hands on a mic, and I’ll wow ’em with karaoke.”

  “Oh, sure—it’ll be the highlight of the night,” Nicki said with an affectionate roll of eyes as Matt strolled over to the mic. She turned to give Lacey a final hug. “Have fun tonight, Lace, and get some sleep.” Her smile slid off-center as she turned on her heel and gave Jack a wink over her shoulder. “You too, Jack.”

  He grinned as he drew Lacey close. “Fun and sleep don’t exactly go together, Nick, but then you already know about that. The man snores like a buzz saw.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen—may I have your attention, please?”

  All eyes homed in on Matt, grinning on the dance floor with a microphone in his hands.

  Jack tugged Lacey toward the gate. “That’s our cue ...”

  “The newlyweds think they’re going to sneak out without a farewell, but we’re not going to let ’em, are we?”

  “Noooooo!” The intimate crowd in the tent exploded in agreement, surging from their seats armed with bottles of bubble and packets of rice tied in hobo bags of ribbon and netting.

  Jack groaned in her ear. “Ball is so dead …”

  “I think it’s sweet,” Lacey said, grinning as the group formed an aisle per Matt’s instructions, right as the D.J. began to play Forever and Ever, Amen. The sound of her and Jack’s “song” brought a chuckle to her lips, and shaking her head, she blew a kiss in Nicki’s direction. Her cousin waved along with Matt, who stood grinning ear to ear with his arm draped over his wife’s shoulder. Turning back to Jack, Lacey planted a kiss on his cheek. “So just buck up, bucko—we have a gauntlet to run.”

  Jack heaved a heavy sigh, shooting Matt the evil eye before scooping her close. “Okay, then, Mrs. O’Bryen—ready, set, go!” Heads ducked close, the two of them tore through the bubble and rice tunnel with shrieks and laughter, completely out of breath by the time they reached Jack’s car in front of his house. Washed and waxed by Matt himself, Jack’s beloved BMW sported a “Finally Married” sign propped in the back window with bobbers, flip-flops, and tin cans trailing off the back bumper.

  “Almost home free,” he said with a chuckle, slamming Lacey’s door and slipping into the driver’s side while well-wishers followed behind. The car roared to life with a touch of a button, and Jack left the crowd in a snowstorm of bubbles, grinning at Lacey while he gunned down Bluff Drive. A block away, he eased the car to the curb and parked, silencing the engine with a wayward grin. “Alone at last,” he whispered, leaning across the console to tip her mouth to his. His smile melted into a look of awe as he skimmed the curve of her jaw, voice husky with love. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Lacey O’Bryen, and I will spend the rest of my days thanking God and loving you.”

  “Oh, Jack!” Emotion welled in her eyes as she pressed her hand over his. “Me too.”

  Leaning close, his lips fondled hers gently, slowly, before he pulled away with a glint in his eye. “But first—there’s something we need to do.” He snatched the “Finally Married” sign from the back window, then popped the trunk and got out of the car, opening her door before he bent to untie the shoes and cans from the bumper.

  “What are we doing?” she asked, brow crinkled as she watched him retrieve a duffle from the trunk where their two small suitcases were also stashed for the evening.

  He slammed the trunk and rounded the car. “Payback, Mrs. O’Bryen.” The look in his face spelled trouble before his gaze flicked to her lips and back. “And retribution long, long overdue …” He tossed a pair of flip-flops at her from the duffel. “Here—put these on.”

  “What in the world …?” Giggling, Lacey slipped her heels off and wiggled her toes into the flip-flops while Jack tossed her shoes back into the car. Hooking her arm, he marched her back down the street toward his house. Finger to his lips, he tugged her along the lawn to the stone pathway that led to the water. “Wait!” She stopped him when they reached the ramp, and hiking her gown up in one hand, she placed her other back in his before silently tiptoeing the rest of the way to his dock, which was now bathed in the soft light of a harvest moon. “Somehow, Jack O’Bryen,” she said while he tossed the duffel on an Adirondack chair, “fishing never entered my mind for my wedding night.”

  The sparkle in his eyes matched the stars overhead. “Mine either.” He reeled her in with an achingly slow kiss that sped up her pulse. “But this did.” Stepping away, he fixed her with a wicked smile while he slid his jacket off his broad shoulders, causing the lump in her throat to duck several times.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice trailed into a squeak when he slowly undid the buttons of his vest.

  “A do-over, Lace, to set the record straight.”

  Her eyes grew when he draped the vest over the chair, and then his shirt, his perfectly chiseled arms and chest making her mouth go dry. Stomach fluttering, her frantic gaze flicked across the street to where the reception was still going strong. “B-But … but, J-Jack … there are a hundred of our closest family and friends right across the street—what are you doing?”

  He grinned and stepped out of his trousers to reveal dark swimming trunks before he sauntered to the edge and dove in. The flash of his cocky smile was embedded in her brain as she stared at the inky water. “Jack!” She rushed forward to peer into the river, hands to her eyes while she muttered under her breath. “So, help me, Brye, when I get my hands on you …”

  He shot up out of the water like a Greek god, water sluicing down sculpted arms. “Come on, Lace, I dare you,” he called, moonlight teasing in his eyes, “let’s make a memory to keep us warm before we get to the hotel.”

  “Jack!” She stamped her foot on the dock and folded her arms. “In case it’s escaped your notice, O’Bryen, I am in a wedding dress here.”

  His teeth gleamed white in the night. “So … take it off, Mrs. O’Bryen … and put on the swimsuit I brought in the duffle.”

  She tossed a jumpy glance over her shoulder, goose bumps pebbling her skin. “The water’s too cold,” she whispered, desperate to sway him toward common sense like he’d tried to do so many years ago on that fateful night. “And there’s a yard full of people up that hill, for crying out loud.”

  He tipped his head, grin in place before he swished onto his back, stomach taut as he braced hands to the back of his neck. “Trust me, Mike—you’ll never even feel the cold …”

  “Give me one good reason why I should, Jack O’Bryen,” she demanded, slamming her hands to her hips.

  With the slosh of a kick, he disappeared for several seconds before breaking the surface in a spray of seaw
ater on the far side of the dock. He crossed his arms on the platform with a flash of white teeth, biceps slick in the moonlight. “Because it’s a do-over, Lace,” he said softly with a crook of his finger. “Come here.”

  Huffing out a sigh, she marched to the edge of the dock. “Jack, this is craz—oh!” She blinked, his father’s dory forming a lump in her throat. Tied to the side of the dock, it bobbed in the water, complete with air mattress and blanket like that night so long ago. Only this time there was also a basket with beach towels, bottled grape juice, and chocolate truffles.

  He peered up, gaze intense as he slowly traced a finger on the top of her foot. “So, what do you say, Mrs. O’Bryen?” he whispered softly, “will you sail away with me under the stars?”

  A heave caught in her throat as she nodded, unable to thwart the sting of tears in her eyes.

  His smile was tender. “I know this sounds silly, Lace, and I can’t really explain it, but I just thought since this is the first night of our life together …” He cocked his head, the shadowed look on his face both teasing and tentative. “Maybe we bring it full circle, you know? A way to right the past and celebrate our future …”

  His voice trailed off, and she found herself staring in awe at the man with whom she became one in these very waters so long ago, a man who’d come “full circle,” just like her. Without another word, she kicked her flip-flops off and glanced up the hill before unzipping her dress with trembling fingers, heart soaring at the look of love in her husband’s eyes.

  As if sensing her shyness, Jack dove in the water, surfacing at the back of the dory to heist himself up. He clambered over its trolling motor and anchor into the stern just as her dress plopped into a puddle at her feet. With a kiss of a warm sea breeze, she carefully stepped out of it and laid it over the chair, ducking behind the shed with the duffle to change into her suit. She heard a soft gurgle of water from the purr of the trolling motor, and sucking in a deep breath, she tiptoed to the edge of the dock. “Okay, O’Bryen,” she whispered loudly, “ready or not, here I come …”