A Discovery of Hope (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 3) (22 page)

“Tails!” I interject. Duke slides his skeptical gaze to me, but quickly looks back to JP as he continues to spin his story.

“She even bit the fool out of one of ‘em. You find one with a bite on his shoulder and we’ll have the thief.” JP sniffs.

I blink in shock at how this tale spilled out of him on the fly.

Duke shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “I should have known better than to even ask.” He rolls his window back up and drives off.

We stand here and watch the truck disappear around the curve in the road.

“Guess he didn’t buy it,” JP mutters with a shrug.

“Not even a little. He knows you too well.” We both burst out laughing and the tension of the afternoon fades away. We laugh until my sides hurt.

JP drives to his beach house, but pulls me straight to the ocean once he parks. “The salt water is the only thing that’s gonna get this mess off.”

Kicking our shoes off, we dive right in with our shorts and T-shirts on. Once we are hip-deep, we start working our hands over our skin and hair with the hopes of loosening the gritty dirt.

“Lift your chin. You got tater patches under there,” JP says as he wades closer to me. I do as he says and he starts rubbing his fingers along the length of my neck.

“My grandpa used to say that,” I comment as he keeps washing the salt water under my chin.

“You say that sadly.”

I look over and find him watching me. “He passed away a few years ago.” I shrug lightly as I rub some water over his earlobe that’s still holding onto the dark mess.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I sometimes wonder if that’s why my mom lost her mind and left us. She seemed to struggle with losing her dad.” I avoid his eyes while trying to pick the dirt from under my nails.

He knows my mom just remarried, but he doesn’t know any details to the end of my parents’ marriage. Today seems to be a sharing day, for sure.

“I can imagine. I lost my dad a few years back. One of the toughest things I’ve ever dealt with. Then my mom packed herself up and moved to Florida shortly after.”

“Oh, so your mom sort of lost it, too?”

He plunges under the water and scrubs his hands through his hair before reemerging. Wiping the water out of his eyes, he answers, “Nah. Let’s just say her divine calling was never motherhood. I’m cool with her moving. It brought my sisters back to me, so I’m thankful.”

JP heads to the shore so I follow. When he sits on the edge of the water, he reaches up and pulls me into his lap. With me happily nestled in his arms, we talk awhile about nothing in particular, my fall classes, his upcoming shoots, and it feels like I’m really starting to know this man.

The sun is tiring and the beach is practically empty as we continue in our little bubble. I’ve opened up even more and told him all about my abrupt major change and how my parents’ divorce stings, but I’ve kept the accident to myself. I’m just not ready to share that.

Eventually we fall silent, and I get lost in those baby blues of his. JP leans in and begins a long, tender kiss—completely opposite from the one we shared in the field. I wrap my arms securely around his neck and become lost in it until I hear someone clear his throat. Looking up, I find a handsome dark-haired man with is hands casually shoved in the pockets a pair of loose shorts. With the wide grin he’s wearing on his tanned face, the stranger seems quite amused.

“You know we live right next door,” he says to JP in a rich yet quiet voice.

“Yes, Lucas. So what?”

Chuckling, the guy looks back towards a Spanish-style beach house and nods his head. “Savannah is loving the show. As well as Duke and Sammy. The boys have a bet going about how far you’ll take this on the beach.”

“That’s why I moved to Charleston,” JP grumbles. I cannot help but giggle.

Lucas extends his hand towards me. The only thing remotely dry is JP’s hair, so I dry my hand in his locks the best I can and shake his brother-in-law’s hand.

“Lucas,” he says quietly. His subtle voice is low, yet has a presence. It’s a drastic change from what I’m used to with JP and Duke. Those two practically bark in their rough voices no matter the mood.

“Willow.”

“I’m Savannah’s husband. She and Duke do nothing but speak highly of you. I’m guessing JP is quite smitten with you as well.” He looks at JP smugly.

Sighing, JP pats my thigh and starts to stand. “Show’s over,” he grouches out and starts walking us down the beach. I hear Lucas chuckling behind us.

We walk a ways down the coast until we reach an old dilapidated building with a sign hanging crooked that declares this place The Beach Shack. JP heads us towards the entrance, but I try to stop him.

“We’re damp and dirty and barefooted.”

“This crowd won’t care,” JP says over his shoulder as he continues to pull me inside. He walks us past the tables, the counter, the register, and straight into the kitchen like he owns the joint. “Jarrette! I’m starving, dude!”

A short barefooted guy with a long bushy beard wipes his hands on his apron as he turns away from the grill. He inspects us both with pinched bushy eyebrows. “You two look like you been rode hard and put up wet.”

“Close—” JP starts, but the guy cuts him off with a raised hand.

“JP, I ain’t got time for one of your tall-tales. You want two shrimp burgers and a pile of onion rings.”

“You got it. Thanks man,” JP says as he backs us out of the kitchen. “We’ll be on the patio.”

Jarrette throws his hand up in acknowledgement as he starts battering plump shrimp, causing my mouth to water. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.

JP walks us over to the waitress station and helps himself to two teas. The waitresses say nothing about him intruding in their space. They just say hey and wink at him as they pass by. I wonder how many hearts he’s broken, or at least toyed with, in Bay Creek. He hands me my tea and we find a vacant table on the patio outside.

Jarrette bustles out pretty quickly with our food and we dive in immediately. The savory, greasy food is heavenly. Fried shrimp piled high on a toasted bun with a substantial amount of coleslaw is outrageously good. It’s salty and sweet and crunchy and soft all at the same time. My taste buds are all accommodated in just one bite.

As the unrushed meal continues, I prop my feet on JP’s lap and begin lazily nibbling on a fat onion ring. A thought keeps whirling around in my head, and so I end up blurting it out. “Who’s the property owner of the field?”

This question takes him by surprise. He’s mid-bite on an onion ring himself when he places it back on the plate. Oh shoot. I didn’t mean to make him sad again.

“I am,” he answers quietly before taking a long sip of tea. “I purchased it a few years back.”

“I thought so.”

“Why’s that?”

“The land is cared for considerably. Almost reverently.” I nudge his thigh with my foot before resting it back on his lap to get him to look at me. “You should consider doing something with it to honor Bradley.”

He seems to be considering this as he picks the onion ring back up. I find that to be a good sign.

“What do you have in mind?”

I shrug my shoulder. “It’s a good size piece of land from what I can tell. I don’t know…” The idea materializes out of thin air, but I feel in an instant that it’s the right answer. “Maybe a fine arts camp. You’ve said you two did everything together. I bet he was creative, too.”

JP nods his head. The breeze has picked up in the early evening and is tousling his blond hair all around. I appreciate the view behind him of the sun setting and how the sky is painting in rich oranges and purples, wishing I had my camera. I stay overwhelmed with the need to capture him on film nowadays.

“That he was. He reminds me a lot of Duke. He liked to draw…” He stops to clear the emotion from his throat. “You know, Willow, I think that’s a mighty fine idea. You think you could help me with it?”

There’s no holding my smile back, as I watch his blue eyes light up with what I’m sure are ideas already coming to life. “I would love to help out.”

“Wow…” JP shakes his head, grinning.

“What?”

“That’s just… Willow, it’s such a great idea. I can’t believe I’ve never thought of it.”

I drop my feet from his lap and reach over to hug him. I whisper in his ear, “It’s time we look at that field in a different light. One that Bradley would approve of.”

He actually laughs and it warms me all the way to my bones. “I’m sure he would have gotten a kick out of what happened there earlier.” Now we are both laughing as I cling closer to him. He groans and it vibrates through my chest. “I’m in so much trouble.”

~~~~~

By the time we make it back to the beach house, it’s dark and I’m exhausted. My clothes are stiff from the dried salt water and I’m in desperate need of a long hot shower. JP gives me a quick tour of his two-bedroom bungalow before ushering me and my bag to the guestroom. The house is surprisingly neat and tidy for a bachelor pad.

He offers me another salty kiss at the threshold of the room. I start to back into the room, but he pulls me closer for another lingering kiss. He seems reluctant when he finally lets me go.

“Lock your door, Willow,” JP says in a husky voice as he backs away.

I’m a bit confused by his request, but obey it and head to the shower.

Once I’m washed and dressed in a long nightshirt, I snuggle into the bed and am instantly aware I have company. I look beside me and find Hope lying on the other pillow staring at me with a smile.

“Today was beautiful.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “I don’t know what overcame me. I can’t believe I
bit
him.”

“I think you proved a much needed point. John Paul needed to know he can be healed of that scar, if he allows it.”

We lay here in silence for a few beats, listening to the ocean meeting the shore just outside my window. It’s so peaceful and my eyes are starting to get quite heavy when Hope speaks again.

“You humans have such a blessing when it comes to love.”

“I’m not so sure if I totally understand love,” I mutter before yawning. It has been one long day.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
 
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” Hope quotes 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. I know all of these verses because I was a Bible Drill student and always scored perfect in competitions. I love how those verses I’ve memorized will always be tucked in my heart. Thankfully, my brain injury didn’t steal them from my memory.

“Willow, I think you understand it better than you realize. I’ve witnessed you sharing the sweetest form of love with this man. You should share these verses with him.”

I roll over on my side facing her. “Then he would know I’m in love with him.” As I admit this out loud, I recognize just how true my words are. I have fallen completely in love with JP Thorton, and it scares me. “I don’t think either one of us is ready for this yet.”

“Love is patient,” Hope reminds me. As she says this, I hear the Jeep crank up and pull away.

“Just where is he running off to?” I huff as I get up to peep out the window. “That man is never going to change. Would it hurt him to let me know where he’s heading?”

Hope giggles. “Go check your door.”

I unlock and open the door, finding a note taped on the other side.

Gone to help Lucas close up the restaurant. Be back shortly. Stop talking to yourself and get some rest. ~JP

This beckons a laugh from my angel and me. We stand here giggling like silly girls.

“It’s your fault my friends think I’m loopy.” I close and lock the door back. “I wonder why he wanted me to lock my door.”

“That’s him trying to establish and respect boundaries with you. I find it quite honorable. Now, do as he said. Stop talking to
yourself
and get some rest.” She smiles warmly before fading away.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sleep evaded me most of the night from not being able to get JP out of my head. Yesterday kept playing through my mind like a long, repetitious movie reel.

What a day it was
…

The dawn is only starting to submit to the new day, but I’m giving up on rest. I need coffee—now! I take care of my teeth and hair in the bathroom before I peep my head in the hall. JP’s door is ajar, so I peep in there, too. I’m surprised to discover the bed empty and made. I guess I wasn’t the only one with sleep issues last night.

There are no signs of him anywhere, so I give up and pad into the kitchen. Much to my relief, a new bag of coffee sits on the light granite counter along with a note.
Your favorite creamer is in fridge
. I know it’s a simple sentence, but it means a lot to me that JP’s been paying attention to me enough to know my coffee preferences. The coffee choice is more evidence. Although he likes to pick on me about my caramel flavored coffee creamer, he appreciates I like a dark roast coffee. Coffee should taste like coffee—not water—with a hint of caramel.

Unable to wipe the smile from my face, I set the coffee to brewing and fish around the cabinets for a mug while I take in the tidy space. It’s very organized and clean. I know he only visits on weekends, but the place doesn’t have an abandoned vibe at all. It’s obvious he lives here just as much as he does in Charleston.

I pull out the creamer and prepare me a delicious cup of coffee. Standing at the counter, I inhale the rich aroma before taking a cautious sip to prevent scorching my tongue. As the silky warmth reaches my throat, I’m already feeling more awake.

The beach is unveiling itself more as the sky lightens up, and I can’t resist heading out onto the deck to enjoy my coffee. I love that his place is right on the beach. After settling into a lounge chair, I scan the horizon and quickly spot a figure in the water. I let him have his privacy until my first cup is drained, but then I hurry inside and grab my camera.

My suspicions are confirmed when I point the camera over the water and witness JP pop up on his surfboard. My finger automatically presses down on the shutter and doesn’t let up until he’s ridden the wave to its end. He is definitely in his element. The ocean seems to calm him. I focus the long lens on his face and rapidly capture him some more. This continues until he begins to descend towards the shore. Not wanting to be seen, I slip behind the privacy fence and continue to fire the camera in his direction. I zoom in on the bite that looks to be a little angry from yesterday and capture it. JP keeps sweeping his hand over it absently as though he’s recalling the incident.

Plopping the board on the shore, JP hitches his black board shorts a little higher on his narrow hips before sitting on top of it. With his back towards me now, I ease back out and angle for more shots. He seems lost in his thoughts as he gazes out over the ocean. Every so often, he treats my camera by running his hand through his damp locks or stretching his arms out to his sides as though he’s working the kinks out of his shoulders. I finally feel I’ve captured him enough, so I lower the camera and just observe with my own eyes and heart. He’s captured both so forcefully.

JP isn’t wearing those nicely fitted wetsuit pants he wore that surf day in Charleston, but the loose board shorts are just as appealing. Over the summer, I’ve noticed his wardrobe is void of most color—typically blacks, dark blues, white, and greys. The shirts are always free of any logos. He conveys a simple unassuming vibe with his plain shirts, jeans, and black Converses, but this man doesn’t have me fooled. JP Thorton is the most intense and intriguing person I have ever met. He does nothing halfheartedly.

I know he struggles to rein in his emotions and have witnessed firsthand him trembling with anger as well as with passion. I was there yesterday when the dam of his grief broke and poured out of him violently. I have no idea how long he’s been suppressing that, and to be honest, it scared me. The man didn’t just weep, he sobbed violently with abandon. I have a feeling as I watch him now that he may be still coming to terms with it himself. Yesterday was pivotal.

I’ve invaded JP’s private moment long enough, so I leave him for another cup of coffee. This time, I sit at the small kitchen island until he eventually makes his way onto the deck. I watch as he grabs a towel off a lounge chair and starts rubbing it along his body and then through his hair. Draping the towel over his broad shoulders, he heads inside.

Clearing his throat, he says, “Hey.”

I gift him a warm smile in hopes it will dissipate the awkwardness. Thankfully, it works because his face relaxes into a smile of his own.

“Good morning.” I raise my cup. “Thanks for the coffee and creamer.”

“Only the best for my Hawaiian Mama,” he says smoothly before grabbing himself a cup. Black. It’s how he takes his coffee. I’ve paid attention as well.

The bite-mark is peeking out from the edge of the towel, drawing my eyes to it. A perfect impression of my teeth is marring his flawless skin.

I keep my focus on it as I apologize. “I don’t know what came over me… JP, I’m sorry for that.”

I guess he’s followed my eyes because his fingers sweep over the wound. “I’m not. You opened my eyes yesterday.” He pauses with a long sigh. “Willow, I really needed them opened. It’s well past a decade overdue.” Easing around the counter, JP gently places a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you.”

I give in and run my hand along the slightly serrated mark and shake my head. JP captures my hand and firmly presses it to the bite. Sitting his cup down, he bends to align our lips and slowly kisses. He tastes of coffee and ocean and I think this flavor combination could be addictive. He knots his left hand in my hair to deepen the kiss. I’m grateful he’s left-handed, because his grasp is always on the opposite side of my scar. That’s still too personal to share, and I can’t help but be self-conscious about it. He would probably equate the talking to myself, the biting, and the long slash on my scalp with me being unstable and go running in the opposite direction. I wonder why he doesn’t do that now. These thoughts bring me back to reality so I pull away from him.

JP obliges me by ending the kiss, but doesn’t let go. Dropping his face to the crook of my neck, he asks, “You want to go to church with me this morning?” He skims his nose along the sensitive spot behind my ear, provoking a shiver.

“Okay,” I manage to croak out.

Leaving a tender kiss in that same sensitive spot, JP releases me, grabs his coffee, and saunters towards his room. “We’ll leave in an hour, okay?”

“Okay,” I croak out again. There’s no hiding how much he affects me. JP keeps stating he’s the one in trouble, but I’m certain I’m in the same boat.

A lively choir opens the services at Bay Creek Baptist Church with several joy-filled hymns. It’s Miss May’s home church and all of the Thorton kids attend at her request. JP filled me in on the drive over that when Miss May speaks, they all listen. I think it’s quite sweet. She’s obviously their mother figure.

As I settle into my pew, I look over at the white-haired lady now as she rocks little Bradley to sleep. Witnessing this, causes me to long for my own momma—the momma I knew before last summer—the one that was always there without question—the momma I took for granted, never thinking things could change, but they did and I’m still struggling to come to terms with it.

I shake the dejected thoughts off as I scan the packed sanctuary. JP misinterprets my action for a sign of me being chilled so he wraps his arm protectively around my shoulders. I have one of my loose long dresses on today that’s so long it skims along the floor, along with a light cardigan. I’m not cold, but I lean into his embrace as though I am seeking more of his warmth.

I glance over at him and my breath catches at how stunning he is in a dark midnight-blue suit. The man cleans up
real
nice. His blond hair is in perfect disarray as always, but he’s done away with the stubble that normally accentuates his strong jaw. He’s forgone the tie and has left the top two buttons open on his white dress shirt as though this is his small rebellion to dressing up.

I have to admit, the Thorton crowd, which consists of the sisters and their spouses, JP, Duke with his purple hair, Sammy, and Bradley, really sticks out. They quite literally pale in comparison to the rest of the dark-skinned congregation, but they all seem at home.

I’m sitting here in contentment when the preacher gets my attention. A smile blooms on my face as I listen to him quote none other than 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. I meditate on each word.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
 
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Last night these words beckoned forth my feelings for JP, but today the exact same words cause me to consider my mom, and more importantly my attitude towards her. I’ve not been patient with her and I have kept a record of her wrongs. I’ve played judge to my mother and have not considered her enough in the whole ordeal. I don’t think I will ever be over her leaving, but I need to put the record of it away.

With a constricting throat, I try to swallow the emotions threatening to surface and say a silent prayer, asking God to forgive me and help me get over the hurt so I can respect my mom the way He intended.

~~~~~

The worship service is long, but zooms by in an excitement I’ve not witnessed much in a service. I’m becoming more open to the idea of the various churches, not in the way of buildings, but atmosphere. Whether it is a park with only a dozen members, a large coliseum with thousands, or a cozy sanctuary with a few hundred, the key to worship is the same—Jesus is the only way, and the Bible in its entirety is the roadmap.

JP informs me after the service we are heading straight to his family’s restaurant for Duke’s party, but I’m confused when he parks at a beach access lot down the road.

He opens my door and ushers me out. “I thought the party was at the restaurant?”

Grabbing my hand, JP sets out down the road. “It is, but we can’t park there.”

“Well, why not?” This makes no sense to me.

“Because people around here will show up at the door begging for food, if they think anyone is around. I guarantee we will get a few unexpected guests today anyway. Savannah has only started closing on Sundays in the last few years and people still don’t take too kindly to it.”

As we get closer, I notice cars lining the street yet the parking lot sits abandoned. I know his family is trying to pull off this party in secrecy, but I’m pretty sure they are failing. We enter the back and I’m immediately assaulted with all kinds of delicious aromas. If I thought this was a small intimate family gathering for Duke, I was completely mistaken. The place is packed with jovial guests, and I’m surprised to find the dining hall decorated with silver balloons and streamers. Duke’s paintings are scattered about on easels and they don’t seem to fit with the feminine party décor. I spot a large Eiffel Tower statue about as tall as me in a corner and it’s illuminated with twinkling lights. I ease over and find cards of well-wishes and money attached to it.

“Julia is trying to embarrass me today,” Duke says over my shoulder.

I turn to face him. “Why’s that?”

He waves his hand towards the tower and all around. “This is all her doings.”

“She’s proud of you. And so am I, so suck it up and enjoy yourself.” I wrap my arms around his waist and steal a quick hug before a group of guys haul him away towards the abundant buffet.

The place falls silent as Lucas blesses the food. His quiet prayer of thanking God for blessing Duke into his life and then asking God’s protection for his son as he sets out on this journey chokes me up. Lucas only says a handful of words in the prayer, but each one is deliberate and meaningful and draws forth an echo of sniffs from the crowd as they try to rein in their emotions as well. There’s no doubt about it. Duke Harris is one loved man.

Lucas says, “Amen. Now let’s eat.” And he doesn’t have to say it twice before the crowd navigates towards the buffet.

JP grabs hold of my hand and places us in line alongside Greyson and Julia. She’s going on and on about the studio apartment they found through an online realty company and how she’s already ordered furniture, but Duke cancelled it. She’s aggravated, but all I can do is smile over the fact that my friend has so many people willing to take care of him.

“He says it’s too girly. Whatever that means.” Julia flicks her prissy hand in the air.

“It
was
too girly. Let the guy pick out his own furniture. You’re always trying to emasculate the whole crowd of u,” Greyson says, giving her a pointed look.

“It wouldn’t hurt to take all the testosterone down a notch or two,” she sasses back to her husband.

“You already pansied up his going-away party. Cut the dude some slack,” JP pipes in.

They bicker back and forth until we reach the plates at the beginning of the buffet. Greyson takes the lead and without asking Julia’s permission, begins piling an assortment of seafood on her plate.