Love Everlasting

by Julie Lessman

  She gathered her shoulder-length blonde hair into a messy ponytail, then dug on her knees in the closet for casual shoes that weren’t dirty or stained with paint. “Yes!” she shouted as she found the white deck shoes she’d bought late last summer, slipping them on before hooking her purse over her shoulder. Shooting a glance in the mirror, she wondered if she should put on some gloss, then paused. Her heart cramped when she remembered how much Ben loved her peach lip gloss.

  Especially kissing it off.

  “No! You are not going to ruin my mood, Ben Carmichael, not when you’ve been AWOL for almost two months!” With a thrust of her chin, she snatched her peach lip gloss from where she’d tossed it in the drawer after Ben left. It had been too painful a reminder of what they had lost, but now she slathered it across her pinched lips. “Take that, Dr. Doom,” she muttered as she stashed both the gloss and sunscreen into her purse and marched out the door.

  It was a perfect day. A cerulean blue sky and a sea-scented breeze billowing Cam’s loose sea foam Polo as he test-drove a 50-foot Princess Motor Yacht that Marv, his salesman friend, let him take out on his own. They’d laughed all the way to the marina, then some more on the boat, where Cam—the consummate sailor—commandeered with feet straddled at the wheel while Tess lounged on the leather seat. When he finally dropped anchor, they bobbed on the water to the music of seagulls and waves, dining on cheese and fruit while Cam nursed a beer and she sipped a Seven-Up. The time flew faster than the seagulls winging overhead, and Tess couldn’t remember a more relaxing day in a long, long while.

  When the sun sank lower in the sky and brought a whisper of dusky pink to the horizon, Tess didn’t want the day to end. “This is sheer heaven,” she said as she tipped her face to the sun, arms hooked around knees tucked to her chest.

  “I would have to agree.” He shifted to the rear seat across from her, appearing very relaxed as his arm rested over the back. “Not just the boat and the water, mind you, but the company too.”

  Her heart stuttered as she shielded her eyes, more to deflect the interest in his than the glare of the sun. “So, what do you think?” She patted the seat with a smile, anxious to steer the conversation in a safer direction. “Are you interested in this beauty?”

  He stared at her for several endless seconds before he answered, that maddeningly calm half smile skittering her pulse. “I think so,” he said, eyes fused to hers while he upended the last of his beer. “And I’m not sure about the boat yet.”

  Gulp.

  “Cam …” She sucked in a deep swell of sea air for courage, wondering how she could have been so stupid to not see this coming.

  He held up a palm. “I’m not rushing you, Tess. I know what you’ve been through, but I thought it fair to let you know I enjoy your company and would like to spend more time with you, beyond our mutual grief.”

  Oh, boy.

  Setting his beer down, he rose to sit next to her, fingers almost touching her shoulder as he draped an arm over the seat. “I’m seriously thinking of retiring from the Navy to spend more time with Spence, Mamaw, and any rug rats Nicki and Matt may have in the future,” he said quietly, “especially if there were another reason to stay.”

  She all but leapt up from the seat, wringing the front of her tank till the stripes weren’t straight anymore. “Cam, I enjoy your friendship, I do, b-but I think there’s something you should know.”

  He peered up beneath shuttered eyes that had seemed so safe and soothing before, and she sat back down to face him head-on, scooting a hair away when his fingers casually brushed her shoulder. His patient smile never faltered. “Too soon?”

  The lump in her throat bobbed like the boat in the water. “No … not too soon … a little more like too late.”

  He barely blinked, the look on his face far more serene than the waves churning all around.

  “You s-see,” she stumbled on, “I’m … pretty serious with someone else.”

  A breeze stirred one of his clipped tawny curls the wind had disheveled, and yet his demeanor remained unruffled. “I expected as much, although you never made mention. You’re an amazing woman, Tess, and I’ve spent the last five months wondering why someone hasn’t snatched you up.” He paused, his manner casual. “Anyone I know?”

  Heat broiled her face like a bad sunburn. It was awkward enough turning Cam down. If he found out it was Ben—the ex-brother-in-law he despised as much as Ben despised him—that unflappable calm of his would blow like a dozen foghorns. Besides, nobody was supposed to know, right? So, Tess was completely within her limits to withhold the truth for now. She thought of how Ben had barely contacted her in the last two months and not at all in the last two weeks, and her ribs constricted.

  If it’s even the truth anymore …

  “It’s someone with whom I was pretty serious before Adam returned,” she said slowly, sidestepping the issue of identity, “so he left town for a while to give me time and space until …” Her voice trailed off, and she hated the stupid tears that blurred in her eyes.

  But they only gushed all the more when Cam pulled her into a firm hug. The smell of Coppertone and a hint of his cologne—Guilty, by Versace, no less—only reminded her of what a good friend he had been when she’d needed one most. “It’s okay, Tess,” he whispered against her hair, the massage of his hand on her back providing a tranquility she’d come to expect from this rock-steady man. “I completely understand, and he’s a very lucky guy.” He pulled back to fish a Kleenex out of his pocket—a staple of his since he’d been spending time with Tess—and carefully dabbed at her tears. “But if it doesn’t work out” —he paused, handing her a fresh tissue as he fixed her with that penetrating stare that always settled her down— “you know where I am.”

  She nodded and sniffed, swiping at her nose.

  “But …” He lowered his head to fix her with a parental look laced with his trademark half-smile. “Just because I’m backing off doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I’m going to need lots of advice on women now that I’m back home and looking to settle down, so I’d like to continue our occasional lunches if that’s okay?”

  Her rib cage expanded. “Sure, Cam.”

  “And maybe we can even double after you and this guy reconnect because I’d like to meet him.”

  No you don’t, Cam, trust me. She gave a quick nod while she chewed the edge of her lip.

  “Good.” He rose and squinted at the horizon. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving, so what do you say we head in for an early dinner before calling it a day?”

  Relief expelled from her lungs in one undulating wave. “I’d like that a lot,” she said, gratitude warm in her eyes. All tension blew away with the wind as she sat beside him on the fly bridge while he drove back to the marina. By the time they eased into the slip and tied up, they were laughing and sparring like siblings over who had the best barbecue—Sandfly or Wiley’s.

  “Mmm … sounds like a challenge to me.” Opening the door to the marina office, he chuckled, steering her back to Marv’s cubicle before hooking a loose arm over her shoulder. “So how ’bout Sandfly tonight, and we’ll do Wiley’s for lunch next time?”

  “It’s a date,” Tess said, peering up with a tilt of her head as they arrived at Marv’s cube. She slid Cam a sideways grin. “And a bet, Admiral, so prepare to lose because you’re going down in flames.”

  “So, what do you think?” Marv glanced up with a smile when they walked into his office. “Ready to sign your life away?”

  Tess’s snappy response died on her lips when a black lab pounced on her chest, squealing and slathering her face with drool. Her grin immediately molded like plastic, all air sucked from her lungs as effectively as if they were vacuum-sealed.

  Talk about going down in flames!

  Neither she nor Cam answered the salesman’s question because they couldn’t—oxygen failed as they stared at Ben Carmichael, reining in his dog with a stony press of his lips. “Beau, sit!” he commanded, hi
s gaze thin as it flicked from Tess to Cam and back, making Cam’s arm over her shoulder feel like a two-ton weight.

  Guilt flamed in her cheeks as she eased away from Cam’s hold. Ready to sign her life away? Heart ramming her ribs, she tried to breathe, but there was no air to be found.

  I think I just did …

  Chapter Six

  “Wow, what the heck happened to you?”

  Sam looked up as Jack strolled into his office without knocking, the toothy smiles on his framed Rugrat cartoon characters in direct contrast to the scowl on Sam’s face. Stifling a groan, he wished he had locked the door after his final patient. The last person he wanted to see right now was Jack O’Bryen, not when Sam sported a truly impressive shiner and rainbow bruise on his cheek, compliments of Jack’s sister. Which is why Sam had been avoiding Jack all day—easy enough to do since the three-day holiday backlogged them both.

  Jack plopped into one of Sam’s shocking orange Bola chairs and hiked his legs on the desk, head resting back as he eyed him with a shuttered grin. “Some girl finally wise up and knock you for a loop?”

  Something like that. Sam sagged back into his chair with a groan, scouring his face with both hands so Jack wouldn’t spot the fire heating his cheeks. “Hit my head on the dash,” he said, rubbing his skin briskly to account for any flush that might remain. His hands dropped to hang limp over the arms of his chair like he’d been deboned as he faced Jack head-on with a dry bent of his mouth. “Don’t ask.”

  Jack’s brows cut low. “You weren’t in an accident, were you?”

  Close enough. Sam expelled a heavy sigh. A freak accident where I was almost run over by your sister, who bludgeoned me with her shoe. “Naw.” He hesitated, stomach churning over the possibility that Shannon had told Jack he’d hit on her. He was pretty sure she hadn’t, though, since he was still sitting here in one piece with only one black eye … “Thanks for having Shannon drive me home, Jack,” he said quietly, testing the waters with a tentative smile, keeping his words as neutral as possible. “She’s a really nice person.”

  “Yeah, she is, Sam, which is why I’m so protective of her. A gentle spirit who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Sam fought the rise of a gulp. Nope, not a fly …

  A twinkle lit Jack’s gaze. “And a killer cook too.”

  “Yeah.” Blood broiled Sam’s face as he scratched the back of his neck, his collar collecting moisture. You have no idea.

  “Heard she made you breakfast, then tried to talk some sense into you.” Jack studied him with a curious air, as if trying to determine if Shannon had any effect on him. “Did any of it sink in, I hope?”

  Sam jumped up to crank up the air, sweat breaking out on his sweat. “Sure.”

  One stiletto, several times in my chest.

  “Good. Well, I owe her for taking such good care of you. Said she fed you and lectured you, then left you all comfy-cozy, flat on your back.”

  Sam blinked. Well, on my back anyway …

  “So you owe her, too, dude, for taking such good care of you.”

  “I know.” Twice. Once for taking me home. And once for not telling her brother what happened after she did. “I’ll get her a gift card.”

  “That would be nice, Ham. So …” Jack said with a tap of his palms on the chair, “now it’s your turn to do me a favor.”

  “Sure.” Sam dropped back into his chair, mouth crooking as he took a drink of his bottled water. Not press charges against your sister?

  “As you know, Lacey and I have a wedding to go to in San Diego on Saturday, so last night we got this wild hair—why not make a mini-vacation out of it? And Augustine is good with it, so it seems stupid not to take advantage, you know?”

  Sam nodded, upending his water. “It’d be a shame not to, since you’re spending the time and money to fly out there anyway.”

  “That’s what we thought, too, so since you already volunteered to fill in for me at Camp Hope for next Saturday—”

  “Volunteered?” Sam parked his hands behind his neck with a lazy grin, far more relaxed now that Shannon wasn’t part of the conversation. Besides, he was actually excited to help out at the camp for orphans that Jack always talked about, where Jack and his family had volunteered for years. “You mean blackmail, don’t you?” Sam continued, “in exchange for not telling everyone in the office that your little sister had to babysit me after hauling me home?” His eyes narrowed in jest. “Not to mention siccing your last morning appointment on me today—Brian Campbell, no less—so you could take an extra-long lunch, probably to play kissy-face with your wife.”

  Jack drew air through a clenched smile. “Blackmail is such an ugly word, Sam. I prefer the concept of sharing the wealth with a good friend. After all, Brian Campbell’s symptoms were quite rare, so it was a good case to be exposed to. Even Augustine said so.”

  “Yeah? Well he didn’t puke on Augustine’s tie; he puked on mine,” Sam groused, still ticked that Augustine had laid down the law, demanding Sam wear a tie at the office like everyone else. Sam enjoyed giving horsy rides to his patients and picking the little ones up, which meant risking kid stains on some of his best ties, making Polo shirts his clothing of choice under his white jacket. His scowl went flat. But not anymore.

  Jack’s grin was diabolic. “Well, see? You and Brian obviously have a lot in common, Ham—you both puke on your ties.”

  “Cute, O’Bryen, but I’m not laughing.” His pained smile was just shy of a frown. “Two of my favorite—and most expensive—ties, ruined.”

  “I’ll tell you what.” Jack snatched a sucker from the candy bowl on Sam’s desk. “I’ll buy you a new one if you fill in for me at Camp Hope on your day off as well as on Saturday.” He crumpled the wrapper and stood, tossing it into the wastebasket behind Sam’s desk. “Deal?”

  Sam surveyed him through a squint. “Ralph Lauren?”

  Shaking his head, Jack laughed, crunching the sucker to bits. He stood and nailed a two-pointer in the can. “You are such a snob, Cunningham, you know that?”

  “You would be, too, O’Bryen, if your clothes came from Good Will most of your life.”

  Jack’s grin simmered into a smile laced with respect. “I know, Sam. You never cease to amaze me at all you’ve accomplished, given your background.”

  Sam’s gaze lagged into a cold stare, suddenly aware why Jack was rapidly becoming one of his best friends. “Thanks, man,” he whispered. “I never forget where I came from, even if most people don’t have a clue.” Releasing a heavy exhale, he shook off his melancholy and offered Jack a sincere smile. “And no tie necessary, Jack, seriously. There’s nothing I’d rather do than help kids who haven’t been given a fair shake, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.” Jack made his way to the door, shooting a smile over his shoulder. “Appreciate it, Sam. I’ll have notes for you on what’s expected before I leave.” He turned, smile wary as he slacked a leg. “Just promise me one thing.”

  “Sure.” Sam grinned, pretty sure he knew what it would be.

  Jack leveled him with a pointed stare, smile flat. “No messing with the female volunteers. They have enough on their minds without some hotshot charming them into a crush. Got it?”

  Sam flashed some teeth. “Sure, Jack. Anything else?”

  Jack turned at the door, a gleam in his eyes as he offered a salute. “Yeah. And whatever you do, Ham,” he said with a twitch of a smile, “don’t wear a tie.”

  Chapter Seven

  “But I d-don’t want to see the n-nurse; I want to r-ride a h-horsy.” Little six-year-old Evie clung to Shannon’s neck, voice quivering with disappointment as they entered the reception area of the Camp Hope plantation house.

  “I know, sweetheart, but you can’t ride a horsy if you’re dizzy and throwing up.” Shannon pressed a kiss to the child’s cheek, worry lines creasing her brow at the heat of her skin. This was the downside of volunteering at Miss Myra’s camp for ill and handicapped orphans—the heartbreak of seeing sickness stea
l what joy these precious children had. Shifting the little tyke in her arms, she wished she could give them far more than just volunteer time during the summers and on weekends. Like a family that would love and nurture them, she thought with a pinch in her chest.

  Suppressing a melancholy sigh, Shannon poked her head in Miss Myra’s office, worry lacing her tone. “I’m taking Evie to sick bay, Miss Myra, because she’s not feeling well.”

  “I want to ride the horsy,” Evie whimpered, red-rimmed eyes issuing a soggy plea to the camp’s matriarch as Shannon gently rubbed the little girl’s back.

  Miss Myra glanced up, her perennial Southern air evident in a silk mauve dress perfectly complemented by a single strand of pearls. Most likely in her sixties, Miss Myra always appeared ageless to Shannon. Her classic ash blonde French twist and porcelain skin etched with fine lines was a perfect cover for a five-foot-one dynamo no one dared cross. Two tiny wedges appeared between Miss Myra’s brows as she rose to circle her desk. Her high heels clicked on the wooden floor with the same sharpness and efficiency with which she transformed her family’s plantation into a camp for orphans with illnesses, disabilities, and other challenges.

  “There will be plenty of time to ride your horsy after you get well, darling.” Depositing a kiss to Evie’s brow, Miss Myra gently swept the little girl’s hair from her eyes, gaze connecting with Shannon’s. “Serena’s the nurse on duty today, but she just left for lunch after the volunteer doc arrived, so just take her on back. Oh my, she’s burning up,” she whispered, the thread of concern in her tone matching the soft blink of brown eyes.