A Love Surrendered (2 page)

And never grow up?

Her eyelids popped open. No! Adjusting her sweater, she sucked in sea air like sustenance, determined she
would
do this.
Needed
to do this. It was bad enough Aunt Eleanor treated her like a child, uprooting her and her sister from their tiny Iowa town after Daddy died three months ago. Nor did it help she was petite with an innocent face that made her look fifteen rather than the eighteen years she’d celebrate in two months. Goodness, she wasn’t a little girl anymore, no matter what her spinster aunt thought. She was Susannah Grace Kennedy, a woman who’d spent the last two years caring for her little sister Glory after Mama died and keeping the house up for Daddy.

Daddy.
She steeled her jaw and fought the prick of moisture that stung whenever she thought of the man she’d all but worshiped, followed by the anger that always rose on its heels. Anger at
his
God—the same God she’d espoused herself until three months ago. A God who’d snatched the life of her mother two years past, despite the prayers of her minister father who’d devoted his life to him. Until God allowed cancer to take him away too, robbing her and her sister of his love, his kindness, his protection . . .

“Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn’t come along?”

Goose bumps prickled, reminding her how close she’d come to evil. Yes, someone protected her tonight, but she refused to give the credit to God. Where was he when her parents needed him? No, when her father died three months ago, she buried her faith along with him, intent on living without God, just like she had to live without her parents.
Thrusting her chin up, she swiped at her eyes and continued down the wood-slatted pier. She was tired of being the good girl, obedient to a fault. What good had it done? Her lips cemented into a firm line. In a few short weeks, she’d graduate high school and then off to college in the fall, the ideal time to leave her childhood behind. She pushed the hair from her eyes with shaky fingers.
And a God I no longer trust . . .

Music and laughter carried on the ocean breeze as she darted down the crowded pier where couples snuggled and kissed, but Annie was too shaken to notice. Her stomach still roiled at the memory of Grove’s hands on her body, his mouth on her cheek, and all she wanted to do was go home. But that was no longer an option. She had no choice but to wait for Peggy’s sister to drive her home, well aware her body still quivered from the shock of the near attack.

“Get ahold of yourself,” she whispered, sucking in sea air to calm down and forget about Harv and Grove. After all, this was her chance to grow up and experience Maggie’s world, and by golly, she intended to do it despite Aunt Eleanor’s objections. Unbidden, thoughts of her handsome rescuer invaded her mind and she shuddered, mortified at the prospect of being seen with an officer in tow. Heaven knows she’d be the youngest among Peggy’s sister’s group anyway. The last thing she needed was more scorn about her age or small-town upbringing.

With a catch of her breath, Annie slowed, jaw sagging while her eyes slowly scanned upward, thoughts of the attack all but forgotten. Mouth agape, she stood mesmerized by the towering sight before her, hand fluttering to her chest. Oh my, but it was grand! Everything Maggie had written and more.

Jutting high in the sky at the end of a pier, the famous Ocean Pier Dance Pavilion rose from the water like a glittering fairy-tale castle, terraces and towers aglow with endless strings of lights. Maggie told her the Pier had been built in 1911 and extended 1,450 feet over the water, beckoning patrons to a palatial structure housing dance marathons, a
sumptuous café, and a roller-skating rink. Light glimmered across the bay, reflecting the revelry inside, and Annie’s heart squeezed at the memory of a big sister she idolized and seldom saw, now living in California. Maggie had always been dazzled by lights, first the big-city glimmer of Chicago where she was born and raised until college, now the glitz and glitter of Hollywood where she soon hoped to be a star. At Radcliffe, she seldom came home for summers after they moved to Iowa because she’d despised Badger, and her letters had always been filled with the shimmer and shine of Ocean Pier.

Annie craned her neck to stare at the arched pillars overhead with a reverent sigh, more determined than ever to follow in Maggie’s footsteps. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door with a grunt, grateful the officer hadn’t followed her to the Pier. Heavens, if she was going to succeed tonight with new friends, it certainly wouldn’t be in the custody of some stiff-faced arm of the law. His memory suddenly prompted an odd quiver in her stomach, and Annie swallowed hard, hoping she’d never have to see him again. No matter
how
handsome he was.

Steven shook his head, watching her bolt away as if he were the one who’d attempted to accost her. Little girls. They were as bad as the big ones. She was darn lucky he’d happened along and been armed, something he usually avoided while off duty. But he’d had an uneasy feeling tonight about the beach, which tended to attract trouble on weekends, and any girl with half a brain had sense not to walk it alone. Which pretty much confirmed the kid was either brainless or had her head in the clouds.

Heaving a sigh, he made his way to the phone booth at the end of the boardwalk to report the thugs who’d bothered the young woman. His mouth crooked. Make that “little girl.” One with a smart mouth who belonged home in bed on a
Friday night, not at a dance hall. He placed the call and hung up, hand fused to the receiver as he squinted at the Ocean Pier Ballroom, a blur of lights at the end of a pier he’d walked more times than he could count. His eyes trailed into a faraway stare while memories teased and taunted, endless strings of lights swaying and sparkling, like Maggie when he’d whirled her on the dance-room floor. Warm, steamy nights spent holding her, kissing her on the veranda, making plans for a future that would never come to pass. A dull ache surfaced in his chest. Chilling proof that despite the fact he’d been the one who’d ended it, Maggie Kennedy still had a hold on his heart.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and ambled toward the Pier, his mind a million miles away, not unlike the woman he’d loved.
Still loved
, if truth be told, despite being a full coast away. Almost three years had passed since he’d ended it the night he told her he loved her but couldn’t see her again. It wasn’t fair, he knew, but he’d blamed her for the rift with his father, a rift so violent, it had almost stolen his father away. Steven’s eyes shuttered closed, the memory twisting his gut. Because of Maggie, he and his father had shouted awful things at each other, hateful words that not only threatened his father’s life but buried Steven’s beneath a mountain of guilt. Guilt so strong, it enabled him to finally turn Maggie away and embark on a quest to restore his father’s trust. His lips thinned.
As well as my own.

A familiar melancholy settled on his shoulders like the mist over the bay, and he opened his eyes, suddenly missing Maggie so much the air stilled in his lungs. The music of her laughter, the dare of her smile, the glimmer of tease in eyes so blue, they’d laid claim to his soul. And his body. Heat flushed his skin and he removed his coat, slinging it over his arm with a clamp of his jaw. Confirmation once again it had never been Maggie’s fault at all, but his. He was the one who should’ve been strong, the man in control who should’ve placed his love for Maggie before his desires. But in the end, he’d disrespected her as much as he had his father, and the
weight of shame had driven him hard away from Maggie, his past, and the idea of ever falling in love.

Peals of laughter broke into his thoughts, and the sight of two couples flying down the wood-slatted dock brought a grin to his face. He and his friends from college used to have fun like that once. His smile was wistful. And if Joe had his way, they would again. The haunting sounds of a love song drifted over the water like a fog, hazing his mind and tugging at his heart, yet another indication Joe was right. It was time to get back in the game, to move on and maybe fall in love. To raise Steven O’Connor from the dead, as Joe liked to say. Ocean Pier loomed before him in all its glory while strains of “Stardust” floated in the air, luring him with its magic as if sent by Joe himself.

Truth be told, I could use a little magic right about now
, Steven thought with a grimace. He yanked on the massive door beneath the lit portico, holding it open as several pretty girls walked through. The scent of perfume tempted his senses while the music taunted his soul, convincing him once and for all his resurrection was imminent. With a deep inhale, he made his way through the crowd, surprised he was actually glad to be there. After all, he thought, hating to admit Joe was right . . . he wasn’t dead yet.

“Where on earth have you been?”

Peggy latched on to Annie’s arm the second she stepped into the grand foyer, and for a moment, Annie was too stunned to respond. Her mouth hung open so far, she could have trapped mosquitoes out on the Pier. The magnitude of the foyer alone stole both her words and the breath from her lungs. A vaulted ceiling seemed to rise to the sky, flanked by palatial balconies teeming with people. Ornate gold chandeliers spilled from above, lending an ethereal air to the grand and spacious room. Annie sighed, hand to her chest, quite certain there was nothing like this in Badger, or in all of Iowa
for that matter, and in one reverent intake of breath, she silently blessed Aunt Eleanor for bringing them to Boston.

“Annie!” Enormous brown eyes assessed her with concern. “Are you okay?”

Annie blinked to dispel the sudden tears in her eyes. “Oh, Peg, two men tried to accost me.”

“What? Where?” Peggy’s eyes spanned wide, her short, auburn waves lending an almost pixie air to her heart-shaped face. She gave Annie a tight hug. “Good grief, are you okay?”

Annie nodded with a tight swallow. “It happened on that shortcut you showed me.”

Peggy’s jaw dropped. “For criminy sakes, Annie, I told you to take the main streets at night, not the shortcut. You could have been killed. Tell me what happened.”

Annie related the awful incident, her brush with near disaster chilling her all over again. “I was looking forward to tonight, Peg, but so far, this is the worst night of my life.”

Peg tucked a curl over Annie’s ear. “We’ll just have to make sure it ends up as the best night of your life, okay?” Her brow puckered. “Hey, you didn’t wear the makeup I gave you!”

Annie blinked. “I meant to put it on before I left, but Aunt Eleanor was in such a nasty mood . . .”

Shaking her head, Peggy rifled through her purse to retrieve her lipstick. “I swear that backwoods town of yours has addled your brain.” She glanced down at Annie’s sensible Mary Jane flats and groaned. “And you wore flats?! What am I going to do with you? It’s bad enough your aunt won’t let you bob your hair, but you barely come to my chin as petite as you are, and those freckles and fresh-scrubbed face are a dead giveaway you’re straight off the farm. Here.” Peggy bent to apply lipstick to Annie’s mouth. “Honestly, Annie, how do you plan to catch anyone’s eye when you look all of twelve?”

“I’m sorry, Peg, but I was so nervous . . .”

Peggy stood up to assess. “Well, there’s not much we can do about your eyes, I suppose, since I left my eye makeup at home, but at least they’re that incredible shade of green. But
I did bring my powder, thank goodness. Here.” She handed Annie her compact and froze. “Wait, please tell me you wore the teal dress I suggested. You know, the one you said was too tight?”

Annie quickly unbuttoned her thick, lumpy sweater and gave her friend a tentative smile before dropping a nervous glance down at her high-necked jersey dress. She tugged at her lip, uneasy with the snug fit of the stretchy material. “I did, but not only is it too small, it makes me feel like a little kid ’cause I wore it at fifteen.” She glanced up, ready to rebutton the cardigan. “I don’t know, Peg, I just don’t feel comfortable in it.”

“That’s because it’s too tight, you goose. Here, let me fix it.” Mischief twitched on her lips as she undid Annie’s top three buttons to create a flapped-collar effect that certainly confirmed Annie was no little girl. Peggy let loose with a low whistle. “Atta girl! You may look fresh as cream with that dewy skin and baby-soft hair, but once you take that hideous cardigan off, you won’t be the only one uncomfortable, trust me.” She exchanged Annie’s sweater for the compact. “Here, sweetie-pie, powder your pretty nose and let’s go. We’ve got hearts to break.”