Love Everlasting

by Julie Lessman

  “Sure, Daddy, Mamaw will be glad to do that, I’m sure.” Lacey’s smile was tender, reminding Ben of the miracle God had performed in healing his relationship with his estranged daughter. “And, of course, Jack and I will be praying about it too.”

  The edge of Ben’s mouth lifted the slightest bit. “I’m counting on it, sweetheart.”

  “What else?” Jack wanted to know, his eagerness to help easing Ben’s smile into a near grin.

  Ben reached to scratch Beau’s head while the black lab slept at his feet. “I have no earthly idea how I should go about this. Tess gave me Cam’s cell number and I’ve left several messages, but he refuses to call me back.” Sucking in a deep draw of air, he expelled it again as he sagged back in his seat. “And it’d be too awkward for me to just show up on his front door, so I figured I’d wait to run into him this week at the marina. Marv says he has an appointment on Saturday to test-run another boat.”

  “That’s a good plan,” Lacey said with a nod of her head.

  Ben’s smile zagged sideways. “If it works. I’m worried he’s going to take a swing at me or just plain tick me off with his bullheaded stubbornness before I can even get him to talk.”

  “Oh, you’ll manage, Daddy.” The assurance in Lacey’s tone was tempered by a squirm of a smile. “After all, you’re both mule-headed Irishmen, so you have a lot in common.”

  Jack pinched Lacey’s waist. “Including a certain mule-headed Irish daughter and niece.”

  Ben grunted. “Who pales in comparison to a certain mule-headed Irishwoman holding a gun to my head.”

  Lacey giggled, the sound winging in the air along with the seagulls above. “Try to look at it as a loving incentive, Daddy, instead of a gun, for a man Tess knows all too well.”

  Ben shot her a narrow gaze. “Hey, whose side you on, kiddo?”

  A tender look of love welled in her eyes, along with a sheen of tears. “Yours, Daddy, the father I love with my whole heart and soul,” she whispered, “and one of God’s greatest blessings in my life.”

  Emotion clogged in Ben’s throat as he battled the sting of moisture beneath his own lids. “Right back at you, sweetheart.” He deflected his gaze to the glimmering waves, which rolled as much as his stomach. “Well, I guess if you and Tess got through to a hardhead like me, I suppose there’s hope for me and Cam. But it sure won’t be easy.”

  Lacey scrambled out of Jack’s arms to sit next to her father, looping a gentle arm to his waist. “No, it won’t. But we’re Carmichaels, Daddy—we’re big on grit and God, so all you have to do is talk to him.” Her eyes sparkled with tease. “And maybe grovel a tiny bit.” She ducked to smile into his eyes. “You know, like I had to do with you?”

  Ben groaned, kneading the bridge of his nose. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Okay, but I will remind you how far you’ve come, Dr. Doom, from being the Terrible Hermit Ogre of Bluff Drive to a man with whom Tess O’Bryen wants to spend the rest of her life.” She kissed him on the head. “And that ain’t no small feat, Daddy, for either you or for God.”

  “I suppose.” He hooked her close with an arm around her shoulders, returning her kiss with one of his own. “But I’ll be hanged if I know how I’m gonna do it.”

  “But you will,” Lacey said with a squeeze of his waist, “and if you don’t?” She rose and straightened the collar of his Polo with a saucy smile before giving him a wink. “Run the other way if you see Tess with a rope.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You’re a genius, you know that?”

  Shannon whirled around with a basketball in her hands, annoyed that the sound of Sam’s voice sent butterflies flitting through her stomach like they were OD-ing on Starbuck’s.

  Tucking the ball under her arm, she swiped her face with the sleeve of her “Cutter’s Point” T-shirt Sam insisted on buying for her after he trounced her in mini-golf. “That’s debatable,” she said, pretty sure a genius wouldn’t get involved with a hunk of heartache like him. “But why?”

  She posed the question with a slack of her hip, feeling a bit on the scroungy side after a basketball game with her kids. Especially when Dr. Love looked like he stepped out of a Polo ad in a crisp, fitted shirt open at the collar and designer jeans, sleeves rolled to show off tan forearms scattered with dark hair.

  He ambled onto the court, hands in his pockets and a grin on his handsome face, swiping the ball from her so smoothly, she never knew what hit her.

  Kind of like their friendship.

  “Your advice about how to handle Jasmine, Miss Brilliant.”

  Shannon suppressed a smile. Ah, yes—chapter fifteen of Love Everlasting.

  He dribbled the ball around her several times like he was Tom Hanks in the movie Big, a grown man with the heart of a kid, and she could do nothing but grin, shaking her head. His expensive shoes lifted off the pavement as he let the ball fly, allowing it to spin into the net with a satisfying swoosh before he retrieved it. His teeth gleamed white against bronze skin as he dribbled back to her side.

  “Show-off.” She snatched the ball to hurtle a three-pointer into the net, effectively dropping his jaw. “I want details, hotshot, not fancy footwork.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” He latched his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans and strolled alongside as she headed toward the gym. “I’m high on success and cappuccino, so I thought I’d tell you all about it while we jog on Tybee Beach. I’ve got a change of clothes in the car.”

  She peered at him out of the corner of her eye. “Did it ever occur to you I might be busy?”

  He paused as if giving it serious thought before he shrugged with a sheepish grin. “Not really. Ran into Cat at the big house, and she said you had nothing going after you got off at three, so here I am.”

  She sighed. Yes, you certainly are, in all your annoying glory. “Guess I need to chat with my social director about screening my schedule,” she said with a side smile, irked that her pulse was already sprinting on Tybee while her body dragged from a full day at camp.

  “So, what do you say?” He nabbed the ball to carry it for her. “I’ll even buy you dinner after, to pay for lesson number two.”

  She skidded to a stop, gravel crunching beneath her Nikes. “Lesson number two?”

  “Come on, Shannon, I’m on a roll here,” he said, bobbling the ball back and forth, “and I need a professional who can tell me what to do.”

  She plunked a hand on her hip. “And there aren’t any shrinks in that big hospital building you work in?”

  He pulled out the stops with his perilous smile and a little-boy plea in those coffee-colored eyes. “Sure there are, but I need a romance professional, Angel Eyes.” He slung an arm over her shoulder, and the scent of his Straight to Heaven cologne made her wish she could go straight home. “Besides, most of them are my guy friends, and I need a female who will shoot me straight.”

  Her smile took a right turn. “How about a female who will just shoot you?”

  “Nope.” He had the nerve to wink. “Already got plenty of those.”

  Her sigh floated into the air. “Well, I’ll pass on the run and the dinner because I’m whipped and already look like I finished last in a marathon. But Cat has a softball game if you want to sit with me in the bleachers.”

  An inverted V wedged above his classic nose as he held the gym door open for her. “I was actually hoping for a bit more privacy. You know, somewhere quiet where we could talk?”

  She sailed past, attempting to mollify him with a bright smile over her shoulder. “We’ll sit on the top row, and I promise we’ll be completely alone.” A smile twitched on her lips as she stored the ball in the equipment closet and closed the door.

  Just us and thirty loyal supporters …

  “But what if Jack’s there?” He looked so pathetic, she almost felt sorry for him, inclined to give in like she always did with Cat.

  “Jack never comes to Cat’s games anymore. She’s in two leagues, so nobody can keep
up except me.”

  “But … what about dinner?”

  Shannon almost laughed out loud at the deprived look on his face.

  Ah … so this is what it’s like having a little boy! She swept past him at the door, making a beeline for the parking lot. “Hot dogs and Diet DP works for me, big boy, how ’bout you?”

  His grunt pretty much confirmed he didn’t agree, but he didn’t have a choice. She may be coerced into a friendship with a notorious heartbreaker, but it didn’t mean it had to be on his terms.

  “Do they at least have corndogs?” he asked, a hint of a sulk in his tone.

  “You bet, and cheese dogs, chili dogs, and even a Coney dog, although I won’t vouch for the state of your stomach an hour later.”

  “Can’t be much worse than it is now,” he muttered, “worrying over Jazz.” He hooked her arm as they neared the parking lot, steering her to his Corvette. “I’ll drive.”

  She glanced up after he opened the door, sliding into the leather bucket seat as if she belonged there. “Hey, what happened to being ‘high on success and cappuccino’?”

  He grunted again before closing her door and circling, his smile off-center as he got in on the other side. “Corn dog indigestion, setting in early.”

  Shannon slowly stretched back in the seat to the mellow sounds of Keith Urban’s “Making Memories of Us,” keenly aware they were making memories of their own, she and Sam. As friends. The idea wrapped around her like the rich, honey sound of Keith Urban’s melody, easing the tension from her bones. “You like country music?” she asked with a lift of brows, expecting the Memorial heartthrob to crank up clubbing music like Usher or Rihanna.

  He slipped her a sideways smile. “We’ll let that be our little secret, okay? I do have a reputation to protect after all.” Easing the Vette out of the parking lot, he seemed to loosen up, one hand relaxed on the shift lever while he drove with the other. “Country music just seems … homier to me, you know? More Mom and apple pie.” His mouth swagged to the right. “Which considering I never had a real mom, seems to fill the bill.”

  Against her will, her heart cramped, reminding her once again that Sam’s upbringing was anything but normal, explaining a little bit more each time they were together just why he was the way that he was.

  A player desperate for love.

  A person desperate for approval.

  And a man desperate for peace.

  Instead of talking about himself and Jasmine, he surprised her by peppering her with questions about her upbringing on the short ride to the ball fields. She readily complied, suspecting he was hungry to hear about what a real family was like, a close-knit family where faith was front and center. According to Jack, Sam had no family, much less any real exposure to faith, which was one of the reasons Jack had reached out to him during their residency despite their keen competition over women.

  “The poor guy’s a virtual orphan,” Jack had told them once, “with no living relatives except some drunk of a dad who never married his mom.” Shannon remembered being heartbroken for Sam at the time, even before she’d ever met him.

  When they were seated at the top of the bleachers with hot dogs, corn dogs, French fries, and drinks, Sam went silent while they ate their dinner, his gaze fixed on the softball game in a dead stare. It wasn’t until he wadded up his trash that he finally broached what was on his mind.

  “She wants to be friends,” he said quietly, even though there was no way people three rows below could hear given the whooping and shouting over a close play at the plate. He stared straight ahead, munching on his third corn dog while he watched a game he probably wasn’t seeing.

  Shannon studied his somber profile, drawn as always to the serious side of Sam Cunningham, the real man behind the pretense. “But that’s a good thing, right?”

  He turned halfway, lips curving in a sad smile. “Yeah, it is, even though it’s light years from where I want to be.”

  She tipped her head. “Ah, yes, but light years from where you were, yes?”

  “Yes, indeed.” He slid her a sideways grin as he tweaked her neck, both his touch and the affection in his eyes sputtering her pulse. “And all because of you. She actually said she missed talking to me and she’s glad we can be friends.”

  “Well, I’d say that’s definite progress, Dr. Love.” Shannon popped the rest of her hot dog in her mouth and balled up the wrapper and napkin.

  “I’ll say. We were on such good terms when she left that she even promised to bring me back these special cigars she knows I like from her trip to the Bahamas.” Sam took the trash from her hands and tucked it in the cardboard drink carrier along with his own before setting it aside. “So, Coach, I’m definitely going to see her again, and I need the game plan before I do.”

  Shannon leaned back, arms braced to the bleacher seat as she peered at him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure you’re up to the challenge, Ham? Because we have some big work to do.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Sam squeezed her leg muscle right above the knee, making her squeal. “There isn’t a challenge you can issue, Angel Eyes, that I can’t handle with ease.”

  “All right, hotshot, we’ll just see about that.” She leaned back again, eyes on the game. “You’re going to have to convince Jazz that she’s the only woman for you. And that you’re willing to wait.”

  “Piece of cake,” Sam said, the self-assurance in his tone causing a smile to tickle her lips.

  “Without dating anybody else.”

  Silence.

  She gave him a sideways peek, and her smile bloomed into a full-fledged grin at the gape of his mouth.

  “You can’t be serious,” he said, his voice a near croak. Facial muscles slack, he stared at her as if she’d just suggested he become a Tibetan monk.

  “Completely, Dr. Love, but the real question is—are you?”

  His mouth snapped shut as those brown eyes darkened, his bristled jaw hardening with the same resolution that obviously took him from a street-poor orphan to a top pediatric practice. He turned his attention to the game, mouth compressed. “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes to convince her you’re the man she needs, Sam. The loyal, serious, committed man who will love and protect her all the days of her life. Not the player waiting in the wings while he’s making a play for every other woman, sowing doubts about if you’ll ever be faithful as a husband.” She paused. “So, basically forever, Dr. Love, because she’s the woman you want, remember?”

  A muscle quivered in his cheek, the hard set of his jaw telling her he was wrestling with his doubts. He finally expelled a lengthy sigh that seemed to deplete all the caffeine from his body, leaving him with a calm that drained all the tension from his face. “Bring it on, Coach,” he said softly, the faintest of smiles lining his lips.

  “Okay.” Shannon shifted to face him. “I can’t promise you this will work, Sam, but I can promise you that the only way this will work is if she’s convinced you’ve changed for the better. And I guarantee you nothing will accomplish that quicker than if word gets around that you’ve given up other women.”

  “Done.” He squinted at her. “What else?”

  “Then you get real serious about being her friend. Which means spending time with her in a nonthreatening way.”

  “Nonthreatening?” A slow smile eased across his lips. “Oh, you mean like I have with you?”

  Shannon swallowed a gulp. “Yeah, like you have with me,” she said with a quick drink of her DP, upending it to deflect the blush she felt rising up her neck.

  “So, you mean things like meeting her for cappuccinos to catch up or innocent games of mini-golf where she can vent over what a jerk the intern can be?” His playful grin coaxed a smile to her face.

  “Yes,” Shannon said, “as well as things like taking her favorite smoothie to the hospital where everyone sees that she’s special to you, or taking her to lunch, even if it is just to talk about the other guy. Woo her,” Shannon emphasize
d, ducking her head to pin him with a pointed gaze, “without her ever even knowing.” She felt a twinge in her heart.

  Kind of like you’re doing with me.

  “Okay.” He focused on her as if she were one of his professors in med school, as serious as she’d ever seen.

  “And whatever you do, my friend,” she said, warning thick in her words, “do not make a move on her. She has to be the one to do that, because then you’ll know she wants you to make a move. But—and this is going to be the hard part, Sam …” She drew in a deep breath heavy with the scent of popcorn and hot dogs, “if she does make a move, you have to say no.”

  He blinked, jaw swagging low. “Are you crazy? The woman turns my blood to lava, Shan, white hot and ravenous. How am I supposed to say no?”

  One side of Shannon’s mouth crooked up. “The same way you got through seven years of med school and residency, Dr. Love—sheer fortitude.” She fluttered her lashes. “Unless, of course, you’re not strong enough to say no …?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Self-control is my middle name, Teach. I didn’t get through med school on my looks, you know.”

  A smile squirmed on her lips. “No, just residency …”

  He wagged a stern finger in her face, a smile twitching at the edge of his lips. “You know what? People think you’re the sweet and shy twin, Shannon O’Bryen, but you have a wicked tongue. And for your information, you little brat, I am a brick wall when it comes to will power, a virtual man of steel, just like Superman.”

  “Yeah?” She arched a brow. “Prove it.”

  His mouth took a swerve. “Don’t have to. Straight A’s in high school, college, and med school should be proof enough, kiddo, especially for a foster-care orphan who worked three jobs at a time.” His chin jutted up. “Besides, even professors in med school gave us reasons why, Angel Eyes, so suppose you tell me just why I should do something as stupid as that?”

  The smile faded on her face as she pierced him with a solemn gaze. “Two reasons, Sam. One, she’s looking for a man she can trust, remember? And that’s not somebody who takes advantage of another guy’s girl, which she apparently is if she’s going to the Bahamas with him, right?” She cocked her head. “What’s his name, anyway?”