Sandpiper Cove

by Irene Hannon

  As if reading his mind, Luis spoke.

  “Running away from difficulties is not an answer, my friend.”

  At the man’s gentle comment, Adam exhaled and gave the sea a slow sweep. “It might be, in this case. You saw how the rest of the crew on the house job reacted to the rumor. I’m tired of being looked at with suspicion.”

  “They do not know you—and most do not live in Hope Harbor.” Luis bent to take the ball from Clyde and gave it another toss. The pooch raced off again, sand flying in his wake. “The police chief, she does not believe this ugly rumor, does she?”

  “No.”

  “Then do not worry about what others think. She is the only one who matters—and not because she is the police chief.”

  “I can’t ignore her position in this town.” No sense pretending he didn’t know what Luis meant. His friend might never have asked about the relationship between the two of them, but once Luis saw them dance, once Lexie made that first trip to the jobsite, he’d picked up the vibes.

  “Because you do not wish to cause her trouble.”

  “Yes.”

  “What does she say about this?”

  “That we’ll get through it. Together.”

  “And you do not agree?”

  Clyde returned, dropped the ball at his feet, and stretched out in the sand a few feet away to soak up some rays. As if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Lucky dog—literally.

  “I’m not a quitter, Luis . . . but I’m tired of trying to prove myself. I’ve been doing that for eighteen months, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. I’m right back where I started.”

  “No. You are not. You now have a . . . what is it called?” He puzzled over the term he was seeking. “Ah. A track record. You have done much good in this town and made more friends than you know. You should give them a chance to show their support. And it would not hurt to ask for guidance, either, before you make any decisions.”

  Wasn’t that almost what Charley had told him, the day they’d been discussing a job for Brenda with the clerics? The man had talked about how paths often smooth out if we listen for direction and give God a chance to pave the way.

  He hadn’t done that yet.

  And maybe it was time he did. Otherwise, he might make a mistake and take that detour Charley had cautioned against. The one that could leave him at a dead end . . . or lost.

  “Thanks for reminding me of that.”

  “Perhaps that is why I am here today.” Luis motioned to the deserted beach. “It is strange we both came out here for a walk this afternoon, is it not?”

  So he’d noticed the odd coincidence too.

  “You think our meeting was God’s doing?”

  “Who’s to say? But if he counts even the hairs of our head, he surely knows when a man needs to hear the voice of a friend. You will call me if you wish to talk again?” Luis clasped his arm.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “It is my pleasure—and no more than others have done for me. Here on this very beach once, in fact.” After bending to give Clyde a pat, he continued on his stroll.

  Adam had no idea what that last comment about the beach meant.

  But he did know one thing. The man’s counsel was sound. For three days he’d been wrestling with his dilemma alone. Yes, he’d tossed a few frantic prayers heavenward, but he hadn’t focused on prayer—or listening. He needed to do both ASAP.

  And as a plan began to form in his mind, he snapped his fingers for Clyde, turned toward home—and powered up his cell.

  His Kia was here.

  Thank you, God!

  Lexie stopped her car farther than usual from the cabin in Sandpiper Cove and took a deep breath. She’d given Adam the space he’d requested, but after three days it was time to break radio silence. Yes, he’d called her on Thursday and Friday—but she’d been occupied. Her return calls had gone to his voicemail . . . and he hadn’t responded, even though she’d told him she’d like to hear from him no matter how late he got her messages.

  She was done playing tag.

  They needed to talk.

  Today.

  In person.

  She got out of the car, straightened her shoulders, strode down the drive to his front door, and knocked.

  From inside, Clyde began barking.

  The blinds in the window beside the door shifted, and a few seconds later the bolt slid back.

  “Hi. This is a surprise.” The corners of Adam’s lips creaked up, as if lifting them took supreme effort.

  Not much of a welcome—except for that swift, telling flare of hunger in his eyes.

  “We need to talk.”

  “I was about to call you.” Adam kept his hand on the half-open door.

  Apparently he didn’t intend to invite her in.

  Too bad.

  “May I?” She motioned toward the interior. If he said no, she’d have to resort to Plan B.

  Whatever that was.

  He hesitated . . . but finally backed up.

  Lexie brushed past him, inhaling the masculine scent that was all Adam—but froze three feet in.

  His clothes were scattered around on the bed, a backpack was half filled, and a sleeping bag was rolled up on the floor . . . ready to go.

  He was leaving?

  She whirled toward him. “What’s going on?”

  “Not what you think.” He took her arm and guided her to a chair at the kitchen table. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I’d prefer an explanation.”

  He dropped into the seat beside her. “I need to get away, somewhere without a lot of memories, to think—and pray. I called BJ a little while ago, and she told me to take a few days of vacation. She’s home from her honeymoon and will be back on the job Monday.”

  “You’re leaving today?” Her pulse took a leap.

  “No. Tomorrow after church. If I couldn’t connect with you by phone, I was going to tell you after the service.”

  At least he wasn’t leaving permanently.

  Yet.

  And he never would, if she had anything to say about it.

  “Adam.” She reached across the table and gripped his hand. “My opinion hasn’t changed since we talked on Wednesday. What we have needs to be explored. Period. I don’t think this rumor will have any lasting impact, but if, by chance, it does . . . and if we get serious . . . I would rather find a job somewhere else than give up on us.”

  “I don’t want to disrupt your life, Lexie.”

  “You already have—and leaving would disrupt it more.”

  He propped his elbow on the table and massaged his temple. “You deserve better than this. Better than me. There’s a stigma attached to associating with a felon, and even if the current crisis goes away, certain people in this town will never let you forget about my past.”

  “That’s their problem—and I can take whatever they might dish out.”

  “But I don’t want you to have to take it. I can’t put someone I lo . . . I care about . . . in that position.”

  Ah.

  His feelings ran as strong—and deep—as hers.

  Throat tightening, she squeezed his fingers. “Shouldn’t that be my decision?”

  From the floor, Clyde looked back and forth between them. At last he trotted to her and hopped up, front paws on her legs, and gave her fingers a lick.

  “See? Clyde’s on my side.” She ruffled his ears.

  Adam wanted to cave, to tell her he’d weather the storm with her by his side—but he was also holding back, trying to do what was best for her. She could see his struggle in every taut line of his face.

  But she knew just how to convince him that what was best for him was also best for her.

  Without a word, she rose and circled the corner of the table to stand over him.

  “What are you doing?” He gave her a wary perusal.

  In silence, she placed her hands on his shoulders . . . leaned down . . . and planted her lips on his.<
br />
  It didn’t take him long to get into the spirit of the smooch.

  By the time they finished, she was sitting on his lap, her arms around his neck.

  “You don’t play fair.” His voice was husky as he toyed with a strand of her hair, his smoky eyes hinting at the fire burning within.

  “All’s fair in love and war, according to the old saying. Don’t go, Adam. Stay here. Take your days off if you need to, but do your thinking and praying here—where you belong. With me by your side.”

  “You make it hard to say no.”

  “Then don’t.”

  Several silent beats ticked by as he regarded her—but in the end he shook his head.

  “I can’t make a rational decision with you in my arms. I need to think about it overnight.”

  Not what she wanted to hear.

  But pushing at this point could backfire. Besides, she was privy to a persuasion plan that might eliminate the need for further coaxing on her part.

  Better to leave it for now . . . and try to exit on a lighter note.

  “Hmph. My pucker power must have lost its punch.” She wiggled off his lap and stood.

  He rose too and cupped her face with his lean fingers. “For the record, your pucker packs plenty of punch. If I was hooked up to an EKG machine, you’d see proof of that.”

  “Then I’ll keep that weapon in reserve should all else fail.” She rose on tiptoe to give him another quick kiss, bent to pat Clyde, and crossed to the door.

  “Lexie.”

  She paused on the threshold. Adam was standing where she’d left him, fingers clenched around the back of a chair.

  “Thank you.” His two simple words, roughened with emotion, held a world of meaning.

  So much for leaving on a lighter note.

  Pressure built behind her eyes. “Don’t thank me for being selfish. I have a lot to lose if you make the wrong decision.”

  “Are you certain you know what that is?”

  “Yes.” Her voice rang with every bit of the conviction she felt.

  The strain in his features eased a tiny bit. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  With a nod, she left the cabin, pulling the door closed behind her. Her visit might not have produced the definitive outcome she’d hoped for, but Adam was leaning her direction—and that boded well for tomorrow.

  Because it wouldn’t take much to convince him to stay at this juncture . . . and a whole lot of convincing was on the agenda come Sunday morning.

  Wow.

  Grace Christian was as packed as it sometimes was on summer weekends when the charming seaside town was filled with visitors.

  There must be a local festival somewhere nearby that had drawn a crowd.

  From his spot inside the back door, Adam surveyed the crammed pews. For once, his habit of arriving at the last minute was going to work against him. He might have to stand for the service.

  A motion to his right caught his eye, and he looked over. Brian waved at him and gestured to an empty spot beside him and his mother in the second-to-last pew.

  Saved—even if it wasn’t his customary end seat.

  Mumbling an apology while doing his best to avoid trampling on the feet of a vaguely familiar couple as he squeezed by, he claimed the empty place.

  “Hey, Mr. Stone.”

  “Hi, Brian.” He leaned forward and spoke to the woman on Brian’s other side. “Morning, Brenda.”

  She acknowledged his greeting with a smile.

  As the organ struck up the chords of the opening hymn, cutting off further conversation, Adam stifled a yawn. No surprise, given his restless night. After tossing for hours while he mulled over Lexie’s suggestion to do his thinking at Sandpiper Cove, he’d almost capitulated.

  Almost.

  But in the end, he’d decided to drive north and see if he could find an available yurt at one of the state parks. A fresh scene might give him a fresh perspective. She wasn’t going to like it—but he’d soften the news with a promise to return in a few days.

  After that? It all depended on the mood of the town and what kind of guidance his prayer produced while he was gone.

  One thing for sure, he’d be listening hard for direction.

  Despite his fatigue, he managed to stay engaged with the service—especially Reverend Baker’s sermon on the importance of loving one’s neighbor . . . including those who weren’t lovable. Like the Fishers, in his case. How could you love people who . . .

  “. . . in our midst. Adam Stone.”

  As his name rang from the pulpit, Adam snapped to attention. What in the world?

  “Most of you know Adam—or know of the good deeds he’s done since joining our church and our community. Most of you also know he served jail time. And most of you have heard the vicious rumor being circulated about him by a person or persons who wish him ill.”

  Reverend Baker leaned closer to the microphone, as serious as Adam had ever seen him.

  “This is a grave disservice to a fine man. We must love and pray for the perpetrator, despite this bad deed, as God has instructed us—but we must also pray for and support the man who has been wronged.”

  Reverend Baker motioned to the first pew, and Adam’s jaw dropped. Father Murphy rose and joined his fellow cleric at the pulpit.

  “My friend Father Murphy is here today, along with many of his parishioners, to express solidarity with us in our support of Adam. Lexie Graham, our chief of police, has also asked to say a few words.”

  The minister stepped aside as Lexie rose from a pew near the front and joined the two men at the pulpit.

  A surge of panic set Adam’s heart hammering. What was she doing? He didn’t want her tainted by any of this!

  But based on her determined expression, she’d made up her mind to take a public stand—and it was too late to stop her.

  She searched the crowd until her gaze came to rest on him. For a long moment, it lingered . . . then moved on to skim the rest of the congregation.

  “Thank you, Reverend Baker, for giving me a minute to speak this morning.” Her voice was steady. Strong. Confident. “A public official doesn’t have the luxury of separating her civic role from her civilian life. So I want to be totally transparent with everyone here. Several weeks ago, I had the opportunity to meet Adam Stone after he was a victim in one of the vandalism incidents here in town. I was impressed. As I got to know him better, my initial admiration deepened into much more. The feeling was mutual—and just before the rumor hit, we had decided to begin dating.”

  A slight murmur ran through the crowd, and a vise squeezed the air from Adam’s lungs.

  Oh, Lexie! What are you doing to yourself?

  If she sensed his silent dismay, she gave no indication of it.

  “I want all of you to know my decision stands. There isn’t one shred of evidence linking Adam with any of the vandalism incidents, and I have absolute faith in his honesty and innocence. I’ve been your police chief for several years, and I believe most of you know me and my record well enough to trust my integrity. I’ve always put the safety of Hope Harbor above personal considerations, and I promise you that will never change.”

  Lexie stepped away from the podium.

  Around him, Adam heard a quiet buzz of conversation. Sensed surreptitious glances being directed his way. Felt the hard wood beneath his fingers as he gripped the edge of the pew.

  This was surreal.

  Why would Lexie put herself—and her job—on the line like this?

  What if people turned against her?

  What if they demanded she give up her position?

  But . . . maybe that was the very reason she’d taken a strong stand. To let him know that whatever happened—good or bad—she was sticking with him. There could be no going back after her public declaration. She had to realize that.

  Meaning she’d put herself on the line for him.

  The scene in front of him blurred, and he swiped a hand across his eyes.

  No one—no
one—had ever given him a greater, more overwhelming, gift.

  Reverend Baker cocooned Lexie’s hands between his before returning to the podium. “Adam is with us today—as he has been every Sunday since he came to Hope Harbor a year and a half ago. Why don’t we show him what it means to have the support of this town and faith family?”

  The two clerics led the applause while Lexie descended the sanctuary stairs.

  At the bottom, she stopped. Watching him. Waiting. For a cue from him, perhaps?

  The clapping built and grew until it thundered through the church, and once again the scene grew fuzzy. The resounding wave of affirmation was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

  When it went on and on, he slowly rose to his feet.

  The ovation intensified.

  Adam scanned the church. Some of the faces were unfamiliar, but there were many people he knew. Charley, in the suit and string tie he’d worn to the wedding. Luis, far from his home turf at St. Francis. Eleanor Cooper of fudge-cake fame. John from the Seabird Inn. BJ and Eric, just back from their honeymoon. Tracy and Michael from the cranberry farm. Annette and Matt, the latter standing on the seat of the pew and waving instead of clapping, a wide grin splitting his face.

  And then there was Lexie.

  He squeezed past the couple at the end of the pew and started down the aisle toward the woman who’d transformed his world.

  Smiling through her tears, she met him halfway.

  And there, in the center aisle of Grace Christian, with applause ringing in his ears, he kissed her.

  It was a moment he knew he would remember for as long as he lived.

  Rare. Perfect. Sublime.

  And he knew this, as well.

  He wasn’t leaving Hope Harbor.

  Ever.

  Because after a long and winding journey, he’d finally found home.

  Epilogue

  “Are you nervous?”

  Smiling, Lexie turned toward the man she was going to marry tomorrow, his face bronzed by the sun dipping low on the horizon off Sandpiper Cove. “Nope.”

  “No second thoughts?”