Seaside Reunion (18 page)

“Why don’t you go back to the very beginning? Tell me about Mark. How you met.”

A subtle easing in her taut posture confirmed he’d made a wise suggestion. Often it was easier to start with good memories and work up to the bad ones.

The faintest smile tugged at her lips. “He came to Starfish Bay on a fishing trip with some of his cop buddies. I was on summer vacation from my teaching job, and he stopped in at the Mercantile for a candy bar—and stayed all afternoon. He spent most of the rest of his trip fishing for dates instead of salmon and steelhead.”

She looked out over the ocean, her eyes focused on the past rather than the shimmering water. “I had dinner with him a few times, but I tried to be practical. What were the chances he’d continue to pursue me once he went back to Sacramento? But he did. Anytime he had two consecutive days off, he was here. The sisters kept a room ready for him at the Orchid. And his persistence paid off. I ended up falling in love with him.”

“And you got married at the chapel?”

“Yes. It was a day a lot like this one.” She scanned the quiet sea, the blue sky, the clouds billowing in the distance. “Perfect. But from the beginning, I worried about the dangers of his job. He worked in the roughest part of town, and I prayed for him every day. He always downplayed the risks, always reminded me he was well trained. After a couple of years I worried less. And that’s when it happened.”

He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand but remained silent. Knowing there was nothing he could say to make the retelling any easier for her.

“The irony was, he wasn’t even on duty that night. We’d gone to a fundraising dinner for Big Brothers. I wasn’t feeling well, so we left early. As we walked to our car in the parking garage, we heard two men arguing. I didn’t pay any attention to what they were saying, but Mark must have heard some words that alerted him it was more than a simple disagreement. He handed me his suit jacket, told me to stay where I was and walked toward them. The younger guy had this wild-eyed look, like he was strung out on drugs, and he pulled a knife. I’ll always remember seeing that glint of light off the blade.”

Her breath hitched, and Nate touched her hair, smoothing it back. Wishing he could wipe these memories from Lindsey’s brain. But the sad truth was, they would be with her forever—as his would be with him. The best he could offer was comfort…and perhaps something deeper, down the line, if things progressed as he was beginning to hope they might.

“I remember Mark reaching for his off-duty weapon. But the younger guy rushed him. Mark’s back was to me, and the next thing I knew he’d doubled over. I screamed. Ran toward him. He fell. I launched myself at the guy. I kicked him. Pulled his hair. He punched me in the stomach. Threw me off. My head hit a car bumper and I fell. Right next to Mark. Everything was blurry, but I could see the blood. Too much blood. It covered his whole shirt. Then the guy leaned over me. I thought he was going to stab me, too. Instead, he grabbed my purse, yanked my engagement and wedding rings off my finger and pulled Mark’s wallet out of his jacket pocket.”

Nate looked down at her bare ring finger. He’d wondered why she didn’t still wear her wedding ring. But he’d never suspected a reason like this.

He started to reach for her. But her final broken, whispered words stopped him.

“I remember listening to his running footsteps receding in the distance. And I knew, even before we were found and the paramedics came, that Mark wasn’t going to make it. And neither was our b-baby.”

Shock ricocheted through him.

“You were pregnant?”

She dipped her head, and he felt a drop of moisture fall onto the back of his hand.

“I’d just taken a home pregnancy test that d-day. Mark was in a rush when he got home from work, and I decided to wait until the n-next morning to tell him. It was his day off, and I thought we could spend it celebrating. But he n-never even knew.”

Another drop of moisture hit the hand that covered hers, and her shoulders began to shake.

Railing against the cruelty and injustice of a world where innocent people suffered and died, he shifted sideways to straddle the bench and pull her into his arms, his hand cradling her head as it lay against his chest.
Lord, why did you send down such misery on this wonderful woman?

No answer came. None was expected. If God was listening, he’d tuned Nate out long ago. And in light of all that had happened to Lindsey, it was no wonder she was having difficulty connecting with the Almighty, too.

He held her as ragged sobs tore through her and his T-shirt grew damp. He held her while the sun dipped behind the gray clouds that had scuttled in and a shadow fell over The Point. He held her until her tears subsided and the first raindrops began to fall.

When she at last eased away to dig a tissue out of her pocket, she kept her head down. “Sorry. It’s been a long time since I cried like that.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry.” He smoothed back her hair, searching for words that would ease her pain. But what could he say that would comfort a woman who’d watched her husband bleed to death? Who’d lost her unborn child after a vicious, senseless attack?

The rain picked up, and he groped behind him to rescue the Bible he’d placed there. As his fingers closed over it, a comment Reverend Tobias had once made suddenly flitted through his mind. It had been a few days before Christmas, not long after he’d heard his parents arguing—and sensed the perfect little world he’d occupied for the past few months was about to disintegrate. He’d sought out this place of refuge, where he and Lindsey had spent so many happy hours, not expecting to find anyone there.

But Reverend Tobias had been adding a few final touches to the crèche in front of the chapel. Though the pastor couldn’t have been more than sixty, he’d seemed like one of the ancient sages to Nate, with his patrician features, kindly eyes and thinning gray hair. And what Nate had liked best was how he’d treated the questions of an eleven-year-old with the same gravity and thoughtful consideration as those of the senior members of the congregation.

On that day, he’d listened as Nate had poured out his angst and asked why God didn’t save his tattered family. The man hadn’t offered any platitudes. Or quoted any Bible verses. Or told Nate to pray. Instead, he’d put his arm around that young boy’s shoulders and said a few short sentences that now flashed through Nate’s mind.

“I don’t know why, Nathaniel. But I absolutely believe God does. And I also believe someday, when you look back on this bad time, you’ll see how God used it to mold you into a fine and honorable man who is going to make this world a better place. That will be my prayer for you.”

In hindsight, Nate could see some logic in the minister’s reply, though it had fallen on deaf ears twenty-five years ago.

But how could God ever use what had happened to Lindsey for good?

The very question she, too, seemed to be struggling with.

“You know, they never did catch the second guy.”

Lindsey’s words brought him back to the moment, and he looked down at her. She was still trembling in his arms as she reached for the Bible. He relinquished his hold on it.

“They got the man who killed Mark, though. He’ll be in prison for a long time.” She tucked the Bible close to her chest. “He didn’t know his contact’s name. It was a drug deal.” Her voice quavered again, and when she lifted her chin, her tear-ravaged face and the desolate sadness in her eyes twisted his gut. “Sometimes I dream about the baby I lost.”

He touched her cheek. “You never told anyone about that? Not even your dad?”

“No. If Mark couldn’t know, I didn’t want anyone else to know, either.”

“Yet you told me. Why?” He thought he knew, but he wanted to hear it put into words.

She studied him, her expression pensive. “I don’t know. It just felt…right.”

Good enough. For now.

Taking her hand, he swung his leg over the bench and drew her to her feet. As the random drops of rain intensified, he scanned the sky. “We’d better head back fast or we’ll get caught in this storm.”

She tucked the Bible under her arm and twined her fingers with his. “I feel like I’ve been caught in a storm for three years.”

He could relate. But his storm had lasted a lot longer.

Yet as he set a fast pace toward the hidden trailhead that would lead them back to town, he had the oddest feeling the sun was about to peek through.

And for the first time in a very long while, he experienced an emotion long absent from his life.

Hope.

Chapter Twelve

“S
o what do you think?” Nate regarded Jarrod as the boy finished reading his piece on children who’d lost parents. He’d dived into it on Sunday morning, and for the past two days he’d left his room at the Orchid only to eat and pay a quick visit to Lindsey at the Mercantile.

“It’s awesome.” The youngster looked up from Nate’s laptop at the table they were sharing in the coffee nook.

“Did you see the credit line?”

“Yeah.” Jarrod’s gaze flickered back to the words at the bottom of the last page:
With special thanks to Jarrod Peterson for his research assistance.
“You think people will like this as much as the one on The Point?”

“Hard to say. But if you and I like it, that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah. Hey, can I show this to my mom?”

“Sure. I’ll email you a copy. But remember, my editor hasn’t seen it yet, so there could be some changes. I wanted you to read it first, though.”

The boy’s chest puffed up. “You know, I’ve been thinking, maybe I could be a writer someday.”

“No reason you couldn’t be.” And that was true. His reading and writing skills had improved significantly in the time Nate had been working with him. Writing hadn’t even been on the agenda, but Jarrod had decided to summarize articles he read—and he’d done an excellent job. According to Lindsey, his math skills had also taken a quantum leap.

“Your mom’s here, Jarrod.” Lindsey leaned around the counter and called out to him.

He checked the window as she pulled in. “Okay. I’m coming.” He rose and gathered up his books—including the one Lindsey had been working with him on before they’d piqued his interest in reading by making him a research assistant. A bookmark stuck halfway through suggested he’d picked it up again, with far better results.

At the threshold of the coffee nook, he paused. “So when are you leaving?”

“Probably sometime next week.”

“I’ll see you again then, right? Even though today was my last tutoring session with Ms. Collier?”

“You bet. I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Besides, I have to tell you what my editor says about our article.”

“Right.” He fiddled with the books in his arms. “Would it be okay if I emailed you once in a while after you go back to Chicago?”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay.” He lifted his arm in farewell and backed away. “See you around.”

Seconds after the bell over the door jingled, Lindsey joined him. “He’s like a different kid. You did a great job with him, Nate.”

He watched Jarrod jog toward his mom’s car through the plate-glass window, his step upbeat, a smile on his face. Odd. For years, he’d put himself in the line of fire, seeking meaning and worthiness and redemption by risking his neck. But none of those efforts had filled up the empty place inside him. Yet risking his heart by helping a young boy…by writing the piece on The Point…by sharing his secrets with Lindsey…by reconnecting with his past—and with God…had put him on the path toward a better future.

Not what he’d expected when he’d heeded the call to return to Starfish Bay—but then again, there’d been a lot of surprises on this trip.

He shifted his attention to one of them. The warmth in Lindsey’s eyes infused him with the same glow he’d felt as a kid whenever she’d beamed her approval after he’d signed on for one of her scary adventures. Like the cliff-hanging hike down to Agate Beach—or so it had seemed to his eleven-year-old eyes as he’d watched her scuttle over the rocks like a crab while he’d crept along at sea-turtle pace. Yet by the end of the summer, his confidence bolstered, he’d become as adept as she was at maneuvering through the jagged boulders.

Fingering the stone in his pocket, he smiled at her.

She gave him a quizzical look. “What are you thinking?”

“About how you pushed and prodded me way outside my comfort zone as a kid.”

The corners of her lips lifted. “You were a bit of a wimp in those days. But you turned out okay.”

“Thanks at least in part to you.”

She dismissed his comment with a shrug. “Don’t give me too much credit. My motivation was more selfish than altruistic. I didn’t want you to slow me down.” Shifting her weight, she shoved her hands in her pockets, her tone growing pensive. “But maybe you were the smart one, after all. Sometimes caution is good.”

The steady look she directed at him confirmed what he’d already begun to suspect. That despite the confidences she’d shared with him on Saturday at The Point, she had qualms about taking their relationship to the next level.

Given her history—and the temporary nature of his stay in Starfish Bay—he understood why.