Small-Town Bachelor

by Jill Kemerer

  “Yeah. They’re putting in a new subdivision. The roads will be cut in before the town celebration on Memorial Day.”

  Sally adjusted tablecloths and candles on her way back to Claire. “We’re blessed he came when he did. Just what this town needed.”

  Claire agreed. After moving to Lake Endwell in July, Reed had surprised her with his plans of rejuvenating a handful of run-down buildings outside town. He said businesses would be more likely to stay and prosper. Reed never ran out of ideas, and Dad never ran out of energy—they were the perfect pair to be in business together.

  “Did Reed get all his stuff moved out of Jake’s apartment?” Aunt Sally put the final decorations on the gift table.

  “Yep. As of Christmas night, he’s back to living in Granddad’s cottage.”

  Aunt Sally smiled. “Well, Libby will be glad. I don’t think she wanted to have an extra roommate.”

  Claire stretched on her tiptoes to hang the balloons and chuckled. “No, she wouldn’t. Reed almost moved in with Tommy and Bryan, but we told him it was crazy. He belongs in the cottage.”

  “Let’s see. Is there anything else I can do? I want to get back and finish decorating the cake.”

  Claire stepped off the ladder and hugged Aunt Sally. “Go on home. Reed will be here any minute.”

  “I can wait,” Sally said.

  “If Reed says he’ll do something, he does it. Don’t worry.”

  “You call me if you need me.” She grabbed her coat and purse, waved and left.

  Claire gathered her final bunch of balloons and made it up two steps when the door opened with a whoosh.

  “Brrr...it’s cold out there.” Reed closed the door and shook the snow off his wool coat.

  Whoa! That man could ignite a forest fire in the dead of winter.

  “Hey, beautiful.” Shrugging his coat off, he draped it over the back of a chair. “This looks great.”

  “Thanks.” She climbed down, giving him a light kiss. “But you can put your coat back on. After this bunch, I’m done.”

  “Wait.” He put his hands around her waist, his eyes glowing with intensity. “Do you know it’s been almost seven months since we met?”

  She wriggled her arms around his neck and smiled. “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. And since it’s kind of our anniversary, I have something for you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Claire asked. “A gift for a kind-of anniversary?”

  “Yeah.” He lowered himself to one knee.

  Her mind floundered. Could he be...? No. He wasn’t proposing. Was he?

  Her heartbeat accelerated, thumping faster than she thought possible.

  “Claire, you know I love you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box from JoJo’s Jewelry. “I want to spend every minute with you for the rest of my life. Tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes—I’ll weather any of it at your side. What do you say—will you make me the happiest man on earth? Will you marry me?”

  She dropped to her knees, hugging him, kissing him. “Yes, oh, yes!”

  Slowly, he rose, helping her to her feet and taking her left hand in his. He pulled out a diamond ring and slid it on her finger. “You’re sure?”

  “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

  He kissed her. Thoroughly.

  “You amaze me.” Claire admired the ring, twisting her hand this way and that, loving the way it sparkled.

  “Do I otterly amaze you?” His teasing smile made her grin, and she burst out laughing.

  “Otterly.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from COAST GUARD COURTSHIP by Lisa Carter.

  Dear Reader,

  When I was growing up in mid-Michigan, we spent many weekends up north at my grandparents’ rustic cabin. I always wondered what it would be like to live in one of the pretty cottages on the lake. Writing about fictional Lake Endwell let me fulfill that daydream. Isn’t it delightful to open a book and enter a different world? My stories are usually set in small towns and feature children or animals. Several years ago, a church member who worked at the zoo brought an otter home for a few days because the little guy wasn’t acclimating to his surroundings. His antics inspired me to have Claire foster the otter twins.

  Family also plays a big role in this book. Have you read Psalm 68:6a? “God sets the lonely in families, He leads forth the prisoners with singing.” It took a tornado and a broken leg for Reed to stay in Lake Endwell, but God used both to bless him with a family. If you’re facing difficulties, keep praying. Your blessing could be right around the corner. I love hearing from you. Please stop by my website, www.jillkemerer.com, and email me at jill@jillkemerer.com.

  God bless you!

  Jill Kemerer

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  Chapter One

  Bone weary after sitting up half the night with Max, Amelia closed her eyes with a sigh. The gentle blue-green waters of the tidal creek lapped against the sides of her small fishing boat. Rocked her in the soothing cradle of the waves she’d known since birth.

  She savored the silence broken only by the skritching of the sand crabs on the nearby barrier island. A breeze wafted past her nose, smelling of sea salt and brine. She’d hurried this cold April morning for the chance to anchor in the crystal cove overlooking her favorite spot among the ruins of the deserted coastal village.

  Amelia loved her family, her life, her home. And especially her motherless nephew, Max. But sometimes she craved the isolation of this forgotten shore. Here in the rhythm of the tide, where God most often rejuvenated her soul, she could be just Amelia.

  She’d stolen this opportunity to photograph the migratory birds in their yearly stopover on the barrier island. Images she’d transfer to her sketch pad while her charter boat clients fished during the upcoming flounder season.

  Amelia had spent most of her life fishing and swimming in these waters. But Max hadn’t. It’d be July before the water truly warmed. And her five-year-old nephew wasn’t robust enough for even the shallow drifts of the channel.

  Gripping the camera strapped about her neck, she scanned the marsh for signs of life. She peered through the cordgrass across the channel that separated the wildlife refuge from her home on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. The air hung thick with early-morning fog snaking above the dark waters of the wetlands.

  Amelia’s hand caught hold of the railing of the Now I Sea as a gust of the ever-present wind buffeted her against the side of the boat. Beyond the dunes on the other side of the island, ocean waves churned. Churned like her thoughts these days about what the doctor’s report would say. About whether she and Max had another summer ahead of them to comb the beach for sea glass.

  Or if time had run out.

  A gaggle of birds darted upward, cawing to each other. She jerked. Her eyes swept over the rotting stumps of the island dock and the long-abandoned husks of boats moldering on the beach. She gazed across the remaining stone foundations on the sandy rise. Like the village, she’d suffered so many losses.

  Please, God, not Max. Whatever You want from me, I’ll do. Just please don’t take Max, too.

  Her Wellingtons squelched on the fiberglass deck as she
padded over to the controls. She gripped the helm and, turning the ignition, brought the engine to life. Above the chugging of the motor, she pointed the bow once more toward her home in Kiptohanock. To where chores awaited, where Dad needed reminding to take his medicine, where Honey needed to be straightened out about returning to college next fall. And since Amelia’s fiancé, Jordan, had died, back to the bleakness of her own possibilities.

  She cast one final glance over her shoulder as the barrier island receded. One fine summer day she and Max would return here. Fourth of July, maybe. They’d have a picnic. Hunt for shells. And she’d paint the landscape to her heart’s content while Max ran up and down the dunes. Happy, healthy. Whole.

  One fine day... God willing. She lifted her chin and headed home.

  * * *

  Borne aloft on the prevailing winds, seagulls whirled in graceful figure eights above the cab of his truck. Braeden Scott kneaded the wheel, glancing out the window over the railing of the bridge, where the Chesapeake Bay sparkled like glittering diamonds in the sunshine. He gazed upward at one lone bird whose shadow hovered above his windshield.

  “Just so long as you don’t—”

  Splat.

  Great. Story of his life.

  “And welcome to the Eastern Shore of Virginia to you, too, my friend.” He grimaced at the whitish excrement dotting his windshield.

  His Ford F-250 bumped and jolted over the last hump of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, which spanned the watery distance between Virginia Beach and the Delmarva peninsula composed of parts of Virginia, Maryland and Delaware. A string of islands, shoals and spits dotted the ocean side. An archipelago, he’d been told, of uninhabited isles.

  At one point in a narrow stretch along Highway 13 heading north, he sighted the bay to his left and the Atlantic on his right. Leaving Northampton County and the signs for Coast Guard Station Cape Charles behind, he crossed into Accomack County. A few miles later, he veered off the main artery at Nassawadox toward Seaside Road, per Seth Duer’s instructions.

  Passing fields, barns and farmhouses, he crossed the small bridge at Quinby. He skirted the hamlet of Wachapreague, hugging the shoreline, and headed toward the coastal village of Kiptohanock. He’d report for duty tomorrow to the officer in charge at the small boat station.

  He drove around the village square occupied by a cupola-topped gazebo. Not much to the fishing village. A post office. A white-steepled clapboard church. Victorian homes meandered off side lanes lined with beginning-to-leaf-out trees.

  So this was Kiptohanock...

  Braeden steered the nose of his truck into an empty parking slot designed for vehicles towing boats. He threw open the cab door and got out. Hands on his hips, he surveyed the marina with its aging pier, the bait store, the Sandpiper Café and the boat repair shop where he’d meet Seth and get the key to his rental. Coast Guard Station Kiptohanock hunkered just across the parking lot, with rapid-response boats tied and at the ready on an adjacent dock.

  Not exactly like his last digs in Station Miami. Or even Kodiak before that.

  Braeden slammed the cab door shut to silence its dinging. He consoled himself with the promise that this smaller, isolated CG station was a chance to grow his leadership skills and continue the stellar trajectory his career had been on since he’d enlisted in the United States Coast Guard a dozen years ago. A matter of killing time here before rotating out to bigger assignments.

  He filled his lungs with the bracing sea air. Not so bad. Not the most exciting place he’d ever quartered, but as long as he could hear the crash of the waves, he’d do fine. And there was the added bonus of finding a furnished cabin for rent by Seth Duer, who offered free docking for his boat since the station didn’t offer housing for unmarried personnel.

  Braeden’s first love, the sea, remained the only love in his life that hadn’t let him down. Give Braeden his boat, the rhythm of the sea and, as one poet had phrased it, “a star to steer by,” and he was good. Better than good. Women were trouble he didn’t need in his life.

  Pushing off from his truck, Braeden caught sight of an older man in jeans and a plaid shirt tinkering with a boat engine in one of the garage bays of the repair shop.

  Braeden strode forward, hand outstretched. “Mr. Duer?”

  The man straightened. His bristly gray brows constricted before easing as recognition dawned. His thick mustache curved upward and he thrust his hand, hard with calluses, at Braeden. “You must be Braeden Scott.” Seth Duer laughed, a gravelly smoker sound. “I mean Boatswain’s Mate First Class Petty Officer Braeden Scott.”

  Braeden smiled and shrugged. “Since you’re not a Coastie and I’m not in uniform, I think we can let that bit of protocol lapse.” His stomach rumbled and he reddened. “Sorry. It’s been a long time since breakfast.”

  “Thought that might be the case.” Seth nudged his chin toward a white paper bag lying next to a tool case. “One of my daughters fixed you a little snack from the Sandpiper. You haven’t lived till you’ve had the Sandpiper’s long-john doughnuts.”

  “One of your daughters?”

  Seth grimaced. “One of my many daughters.”

  Braeden lifted his eyebrow.

  Seth clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe after you get settled into the cabin, you and I can have a quick lunch at the café and you can meet my baby girl. But first...I’d like to introduce you to a few of Kiptohanock’s citizens.”

  They ambled past the diner toward the Kiptohanock wharf, where motorboats and small fishing vessels docked alongside the pier. Weather-beaten men paused in the midst of cleaning decks or replenishing bait buckets. Conversations halted as Braeden passed. Pink-cheeked women poked their heads out of the bait shop and joined the menfolk. In a small town like this, most everyone already knew he’d come to serve as the executive petty officer to the OIC at Station Kiptohanock.

  And for those who didn’t know who Braeden was, Seth Duer appeared determined to rectify the oversight. His paw clamped on to Braeden’s shoulder, he introduced Braeden to each of the crusty sea dogs. A gesture Braeden appreciated.

  Though their services were valued, the Guardsmen oftentimes remained outsiders in these close-knit fishing communities until given the proverbial seal of approval by a prominent local. Seth had obviously taken it upon himself to do the honors.

  Might come in handy and keep tempers in check, if he ever had occasion to issue citations to any of these watermen for safety violations on their vessels. Surveying the Kiptohanock citizens, Braeden was taken aback at the many variations on a theme of red hair among the men and women both, ranging from cinnamon-coated gingers and carrot tops to full-blown titians.

  Shaking his hand, the women issued invitations to the potluck after church on Sunday. But as far as God and church went, Braeden refused to commit himself. Although, he thought, giving a swift glance around the Kiptohanock square, church might be all there was to do in these parts...

  Braeden sighed.

  One Kiptohanock matron propped her hands on her substantial hips. “Seth Duer, your other girl is going to blow a gasket when she finds out about this here Coastie.”

  Seth shuffled his feet.

  Braeden frowned. “Sir? What’s she—?”

  “Women.” Seth cast a furtive look out to sea. “Don’t try to understand ’em, son. May I call you son?”

  Braeden nodded, dazed. He cleared his throat, wondering exactly how many daughters Seth Duer possessed. Or, rather, how many possessed him?

  Either way, it promised to be an interesting living arrangement for the duration.

  “Don’t try to understand ’em.” Seth shook his head. “All you can do is love ’em.” But he slapped Braeden on the back.

  Braeden winced.

  Message received loud and clear. Mess with Seth Duer’s daughters, mess with Seth Duer.


  “Can’t tell you how glad Max and I are to have another guy on the property. We’ve been in dire need of more testosterone there for years.” Seth pulled Braeden off the pier and back toward the repair shop.

  Seth fished a brass key out of the front pocket of his faded jeans. “Here, Mr. Scott.”

  With some trepidation, Braeden took the key from Seth’s hand. “Call me Braeden, please, Mr. Duer.”

  Seth smiled. “There’s clean linens in the cabin. Don’t forget breakfast and dinner are included at the main house. And the girls would appreciate a phone call if you won’t make it for dinner.”

  “Yessir. I’d better get unpacked and my boat docked. I’d like to check out the lay of the land, so to speak, and meet the crew at the station, too.”

  “Still got those directions I emailed you? Don’t forget this, either.” Seth handed Braeden the white paper bag. “This ought to tide you over till that lunch we talked about.”

  He pronounced tide like “toide.”

  The corners of Braeden’s mouth lifted, liking the lilting cadence of the local speech. He opened the bag filled with fried dough rolled in cinnamon and sugar. His nose twitched appreciatively at the aroma. He licked his lips and waved the bag. “Thanks for this.”

  Shore assignment. Breakfast and dinner every day sounded promising. Been years since he’d profited from home-cooked meals on a regular basis.

  “You’re welcome, XPO Braeden Scott.” Seth gave him a two-fingered salute. “But most of all, welcome to our corner of paradise.”

  Braeden raised his brows as he parted from Seth and strolled toward his truck.

  Paradise? Kiptohanock?

  The “toide” was still out on that one.

  * * *

  The engine purred as she headed up the tidal creek toward home. As she rounded the neck, Amelia spotted the sailboat docked in her usual slip at the pier. Easing in the Now I Sea, she secured the moorings and clambered out onto the weathered gray planks of the dock. She took in the sleek hull of the vessel, its immaculate paint job and deck appearance.