Coast Guard Sweetheart (10 page)

She traced the outline of her mother's face in the portrait with her eye. “This house...” Her voice broke. “Was all I had left of Mom. And Caroline. The last place we were together as a family. I don't understand how someone walks away from everyone who loves them and never looks back.”

He hooked Honey about the waist, surprising her into a hug.

“Perhaps Caroline believed she had to leave. Like she had no other choice. Maybe the best choice for the people who loved her.” Both arms around her torso, he pressed Honey's spine against his chest.

“How could that kind of loss be best for her or those who loved her so much? How could you—?”

“We're going to get out of here.” His mouth grazed the top of her head. “And you'll always have your home if I have to personally reframe and nail this house together again myself.”

She angled. Placing her palm against his shirt, she felt the drumbeat of his heart through the fabric. “Why would you do that for me, Sawyer? Why, if you stopped caring for me that way?”

With a sudden crescendo, the wind picked up speed. Torrents of rain slashed against the glass panes. Something thudded against the roof overhead. She jerked.

“Because I never stopped...” He bit his lip so hard dots of blood appeared.

Leaning closer, she ran her finger across his bottom lip and wiped away the smear of blood. “You never stopped what, Sawyer?”

His eyes locked onto hers. “I—”

“Aunt Honey? Where are you? Sawyer?” Max's panicked cries sounded below.

Releasing her, Sawyer jerked toward the stairs.

The moment passed and she hurried after him to comfort her nephew who'd awoken frightened by the renewed intensity of the storm.

In truth, she grimaced as she enfolded Max in her arms, her moment and Sawyer's had passed a long time ago. Three years ago. On a moonlit beach outside Ocean City.

Chapter Ten

H
ours later, Honey awoke to utter silence. A silence all the more eerie in contrast with the nightlong banshee of the wind. Stiff, she shifted, careful not to wake Max.

The air lay heavy and moist on her skin. But they were alive. They'd survived, and the hurricane had blown itself out to sea.

A yawning pit opened in her stomach. Her gaze ping-ponged. She bolted upright.

“Sawyer?” she yelled. Max stirred in her arms. She disentangled herself from his arms entwined around her neck.

“Mimi?” he murmured, his eyes still closed. “I want Mimi.”

Panic clawed at her heart. “Sawyer? Answer me. Where are you?” Laying Max aside, she scrabbled to her feet.

“It's okay, Beatrice,” Sawyer called from below the landing. “I'm down here.”

Max sat up and stretched. “Is it over? I'm hungry.”

She hurried toward the stairs. Her pulse leaped at the sight of the bandaged Coastie leaning against the stairwell. Light from the open door and broken windows dappled the contours of his face.

“The water's already receded. Like somebody pulled the stopper on a bathtub.” He dropped his eyes. “But it's a real mess. I'm sorry.”

She gulped. “I may blame you for a lot, Sawyer Kole. But I'm pretty sure Hurricane Zelda was beyond your control.”

He held out his hand. “Just remember, everything can be fixed. The important thing is we're alive.”

She slid her hand in his and allowed him to help her step over the debris cluttering the staircase. She made her way to what had once been the first floor of seven generations of Duers.

Her feet encased in muck, she gasped, unprepared for the complete devastation. She covered her mouth and nose with her hand. The brackish stench overwhelmed her senses.

All the money she'd spent on the remodel gone to waste. Her eyes welled. The waterline, like the dirty ring on a bathtub, etched the four walls.

She closed her eyes, unable to cope with the total destruction of her childhood home and the complete demolition of her greatest dream. The ground floor—kitchen, dining room, living room and stairs—was a total loss. The home equity loan she'd taken out and was still repaying for naught. She sagged, the spiraling debt dragging her downward as if she were caught in an oceanic vortex.

He hugged her close. “It's going to be okay. I told you. All of this is fixable.”

She shook her head. “I'm without resources and out of business for the duration.”

“You're not without resources. You've got friends and neighbors—”

“Whose homes and businesses are probably as destroyed as mine.”

“And you've got me.”

She stepped out of the circle of his arms. “Since when have I ever had you?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Glad to see you haven't lost that fighting Duer spirit.”

She waved her arm. “Yeah, probably the only thing I've got left now.”

“Bitterness doesn't become you, Beatrice.” Mouth twisting, he turned toward the gaping front entrance. “God will make a way.”

Shame darkened her cheeks. His all too apparent disappointment in her stung. Her mouth quivered.

“Don't remember you and God being so buddy-buddy when you courted me up and down the Delmarva three years ago, Kole.” Her chest heaved. “I also don't believe you're standing on any moral high ground yourself after the way you dumped me.”

Sawyer pivoted so suddenly, she took an involuntary step backward, her Wellingtons squelching in the mud.

In two sloshing strides, he was at her side, grasping her elbows. “You don't know anything about my relationship with God. And you're right. Three years ago, God and I weren't on speaking terms. But a lot has changed. Something you'd already know about if you weren't so determined to make me the culminating scapegoat for every bad thing that's ever happened in your life.

His face hardened. “Truth is, we were no good to each other then. Maybe God had a higher purpose in separating us than either you or I could imagine at the time.”

“Don't you dare preach to me about God. What kind of higher purpose? What kind of way did God make when my mother lay dying of ovarian cancer?” Honey smacked her fist into his chest. He staggered.

“When Daddy fell into a decade-long depression and his heart almost gave out?” She shoved Sawyer. “When Lindi died with Max in her arms—”

“Aunt Honey...” A small voice wobbled from above. “Why are you yelling at Sawyer? Why are you being mean again?”

The black Labs' noses poked through the banister. Their tongues lolled, hassling.

Max's face looked small and scared as he hung over the railing. “Mimi says stuff happens not 'cause God doesn't love us, but 'cause that's the way it is down here. 'Cause this isn't our final home.”

Honey grabbed the newel post for support. Was that the problem? She'd made this house her god? Like once, three years ago, she'd put Sawyer before God and her family?

Max jutted his jaw. “When my birth mom died, Mimi became my forever mom. And God made a way for Braeden to be my dad, too.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. The anger and bitterness were a cancer that had squeezed out everything good and right in her life. Max's childlike faith smote her conscience.

“I love Sawyer, Aunt Honey. I thought you did, too.”

She opened her eyes. That was the problem. She couldn't deny the truth any longer. Only someone she'd loved that deeply had the power to wound her so deeply. Clamping her lips together, she didn't trust herself to speak. Afraid she'd fall to pieces.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, buddy.” Sawyer moved away from Honey, his eyes hooded. “I love you, too.”

She hardened her heart. Words Sawyer Kole had never spoken to her. He'd used her that spring. She'd been just another diversion, a babe in every port. “What makes you think, Coastie, we're any good to each other now?”

He flinched as if she'd physically struck him. His eyes dulled. His face resumed the stoic expression he wore of late.

She wanted to weep. Hurting him as he'd hurt her somehow didn't provide the satisfaction she'd imagined. “Sawy—”

“Ahoy in the house!” Braeden's voice bellowed from outside.

Max took the stairs two at a time, vaulting over the debris toward the ground floor. “Dad? It's me, Max. I'm here.”

Braeden along with an EMT from Riverside clambered up what remained of the porch.

“Max!” The relief on Braeden's face as he spotted his son nearly broke Honey. Braeden opened his arms wide as Max crossed the distance between them and jumped into his embrace. Braeden buried his dark, short-cropped Coastie head into Max's scrawny neck.

The child trembled with repressed sobs. “I knew you'd come. I knew you'd find me.”

Braeden's shoulder blades twitched. He stroked Max's back as if not just reassuring the little boy. Braeden's chocolate-brown eyes lifted, scanning the destruction. Sizing up the tension and gulf between Sawyer and Honey with one glance. “Everybody okay, here?”

“Sawyer saved my life, Dad. Blackie and Ajax, too.”

Braeden blinked away the moisture in his eyes. “Seems I continue to be in your debt, Petty Officer. Now you've gone and saved my son. How can Amelia and I ever thank you?”

Sawyer went into regulation stance, arms rigid at his sides. “Just doing my duty, Chief. And it was your sister-in-law who saved me actually.”

His duty? Is that what last night had been?

Honey slumped against the soggy wall. “We saved each other. How is Amelia?”

Braeden held Max close. “Resting at the hospital with your dad. Baby Scott decided the middle of a hurricane was not the best time to make an appearance after all.”

Sawyer raked a hand over his face. “Smart kid.”

Braeden nodded. “Let's get you all out of here.”

She stiffened.

“For now, Honey.” Braeden motioned toward a waiting four wheel drive truck. “Everyone's meeting at the church to count heads. Giving thanks to God so far no one appears to be unaccounted for. Kiptohanock needs time to regroup and plan the recovery. God will be our strength.”

She cut her eyes at Sawyer. He avoided her gaze and broad-shouldered his way out the door, leaving her to follow. Or not.

That was the trouble, she reflected. God might be Sawyer's strength—a mind-boggling notion considering the Coastie she'd known three years ago. As for her? She'd lost that kind of strength somewhere along the way.

Or worse yet? Perhaps she'd never possessed that sort of strength in the first place.

Chapter Eleven

I
t bothered Sawyer that Kiptohanock's church steeple tilted. No longer an upright beacon of hope to mariners and townsfolk. But Kiptohanock hadn't fared as poorly as the lodge. Once the waters receded, there appeared to be minimal damage to the village. Most fishing vessels, Seth and Braeden's boats included, were dry-docked farther inland and out of harm's way.

Running on a generator, the diner became a gathering spot for residents to grab a cup of coffee and a hot meal until electricity could be restored Shore-wide. Practically dead on his feet, Sawyer felt compelled to return immediately to duty watch.

The station hummed with activity. The crew, alongside county law enforcement and volunteer fire departments, performed countless missions in the surrounding area to rescue people trapped inside their homes. But as the afternoon of the first day after Zelda drew to a close, things had slowed enough for Braeden to send Sawyer off duty.

Instead, he gathered outside the church with the other Kiptohanock citizens at Reverend Parks's request. To give thanks that no lives were lost in the storm. To rejoice that barring the ripped-off roof shingles and Pisa-like steeple, the church had emerged intact.

Sawyer hung at the back of the crowd. He kept his distance from Honey and her dad near the steps of the church. She—according to Braeden—had spent the day in a cafe booth on the phone with an insurance rep. Reverend Parks moved in front of the double oak doors at the top of the steps.

“What're we going to do, Reverend?” A fiftysomething matron Sawyer recognized as the owner of the local outfitter shop. “I was counting on revenue from Harbor Fest this year.”

Other heads—gray, brown, blond and red—nodded.

“Brings the tourists in by the droves.” One of Seth's ROMEO compatriots, shrugged. “Without them, many of us are going to find ourselves unable to survive the long stretch of winter. Financially speaking.”

Reverend Parks lifted his hand, and the buzz of conversation on the muddy front lawn of the church faded. “Friends, I realize the situation looks dire. I know this is the worst possible time to find ourselves in this position. But we can't lose heart. When circumstances look the darkest that is when our God shines the brightest. Perhaps all is not lost.”

“You imagine we should still hold Harbor Fest?” The postmistress grumbled. “Look around, Reverend. Our town is a mess.”

Seth stroked his mustache with his finger. “God hasn't let any of us down yet, and He's not about to start now. Kiptohanock will rally. We'll help each other. It's the Shore way.”

Reverend Parks nodded. “We can't lose our hope, friends. Not now. This could be Kiptohanock's finest hour if we open our hearts and give God room to work in our lives and community.”

Sawyer raised his hand. As XPO, he'd been appointed as the station's personal representative to the village.

Reverend Parks swung his way at the motion of his hand. “I know I speak for everyone here when I voice my deepest appreciation for what the United States Coast Guard did during the storm, Petty Officer.”

Sawyer reddened. That wasn't why guardsmen did what they did, although appreciation was nice. But he didn't want to appear to be fishing for compliments. “I'm not a resident of Kiptohanock, but the station's been discussing what could be done for this town we've come to love and call home. At least, our temporary home.”

Honey swiveled and scowled at him.

Sawyer thought it best to ignore her before he lost his train of thought. More of an adrenaline junkie, he was best suited to action. Public speaking ranked low on his list of all-time favorite jobs.

He took a breath. “We've pledged our personal funds and worked out a rotation of volunteers during off duty hours to reroof the sanctuary.”

There were murmurs of approval.

Sawyer forged ahead through the difficult part of what he intended to say. Somehow to convey what he and the other guardsmen felt for the town and its citizens.

“The steeple—” He cleared his throat past his unaccustomed emotion. “It stands watch like a holy sentinel, not only over the inhabitants of coastal Kiptohanock, but also over the Coast Guardsmen in its midst. And so we'd also like to assist in restoring the steeple.”

Claps and cheers broke out. Honey crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip.

Reverend Parks raised his arms shoulder level. “Petty Officer, I'm overwhelmed and humbled by the Guard's generous offer. See, brothers and sisters. I told you. God has not abandoned us.”

Sawyer winced at the reverend's choice of words.

“Let us bow our heads,” the reverend called, “and give thanks to the One who kept us anchored throughout a long, terrible night and brought us once more into the light of day.”

Seth and the other ROMEOs removed their ball caps. Sawyer likewise removed his headgear and went into an at-ease position, his feet splayed to his hips.

“We praise You, O God,” Reverend Parks intoned. “That You have gathered us here again today out of the wind and the rain and the storms of life.”

Sawyer added his silent thanks to God.

“Grant us the courage to move forward despite the devastation around us. Help us to love our neighbor, in their hour of greatest need, more than we love ourselves.”

Sawyer had made another decision, as well. Which would infuriate Honey. But it was a promise he couldn't walk away from, no matter how much his heart told him to run again before it was too late. It was the only decision he could make and still live with himself.

“Most of all, we pray to never lose sight of our ultimate hope in You.” Reverend Parks clasped his hands. “Amen.”

“Amen,” the residents of Kiptohanock chorused.

Sawyer exhaled. During the storm last night, he'd begun to hope. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Hope for what? How stupid could he get?

In the light of day, his optimism dimmed. There were no second chances for someone like him. He'd known that since he was a boy. And if Honey couldn't or wouldn't forgive him, why should God?

All the peace and strength he'd experienced since San Diego faded. Had he been fooling himself about his new relationship with God? What would God, much less Honey, want with a messed-up sinner like him anyway?

Sawyer edged farther back. Always on the outside looking in—story of his life. His truck overturned by the floodwaters was a total loss. Maybe he could get Reaves to give him a ride to his rented quarters at Pauline Crockett's farm where he lived.

He hoped—prayed if God listened to broken people like him—Miss Pauline, farther inland and on higher ground closer to Onley, had fared better. Best to slip away before— A hand clamped on his shoulder halted Sawyer in place.

Seth Duer's blue-green eyes narrowed. “Going somewhere, son?”

“Uh...” He'd faced modern-day pirates and drug lords, but Seth Duer was scarier.

Seth let loose of Sawyer to adjust the Nandua Warriors ball cap. “I can never thank you enough for being there for my baby girl and Max.”

“Just doing my job, sir.”

Seth cut his eyes at him. “I don't for a moment doubt you're a poster child for the Guard. But I also suspect duty has very little to do with anything between you and that daughter of mine.”

“I'm no one's poster child.” Sawyer folded his arms. “More like a foster child.”

“And I think you underestimate yourself, though you do a great job covering your insecurity with that rodeo bravado. Anyway, I have a favor to ask of you.”

He cocked an eyebrow at the older man.

“Friend of mine owns a spread farther up the neck. Stables and horses, right up your alley.”

He wasn't sure where Honey's dad was going with this. “Yessir...”

“Tree landed on his car with him inside. Bad break. Both legs. He's going to be out of commission for a while. I know you and Braeden had this deal about transferring out this week, but wondered if you'd reconsider and see to the care and feeding of his animals while he's in rehab.”

“I made Hon—I mean Beatrice—a promise during the storm last night.” He braced for Seth's hostility. “I've already spoken to Braeden about delaying my departure. I'd like to help restore the ground floor of the lodge. Get the Duers back in business as soon as possible. That is,” he darted his eyes at Seth. “If you have no objection.”

“You'll get no objection from me. It's a generous offer. We'd be foolish to refuse. We're gonna need every bit of manpower we can find if we hope to be up and running by Harbor Fest.”

“Don't know that Beatrice will agree.”

Seth fingered his jaw. “You let me handle Honey. Only one question.”

“What's that, sir?”

“You still love my daughter, don't you?”

Sawyer worked to retain control of his mouth. He gave Seth a curt nod. “I do. But I'm not sure a relationship with me would be in her best interests.” He hung his head.

“No buts about it, son.” Seth grimaced. “I'll take you out to Keller's farm. You and I are long overdue for another little chat.”

Crossing the parking lot, Sawyer climbed into the Silverado, which had escaped the storm's destruction. With downed trees and power lines, Honey's dad turned off Seaside Road and took a circuitous route.

Finally, Seth veered off the main traffic artery and followed a dirt driveway curving into the trees. They emerged into broad, open pastureland. Sawyer noted the Dutch-roofed, red-painted stable behind a two-story Victorian on a hilly rise.

He rolled down the window and took a deep cleansing breath. Hay and horse were his first loves before he'd taken off for the sea life of a Coastie.

Seth's lips curved. “I knew I was right in bringing you here if that's the reaction this smelly old farm gives you.”

“Not smelly, Mr. Duer.” His brow furrowed. “The best of both worlds, I figure.” He nudged his head to the thin sliver of blue beyond the house. “A sea breeze, too.”

The older man grinned, the wrinkles caused by a lifetime of deep sea fishing rearranged themselves. “Keller's needed help with this place for half a decade. He's too stubborn to admit it's too much for him. The storm's sort of forced the issue of putting the farm on the market. I told him I had the perfect caretaker in the meantime. A bona fide cowboy.”

“Me?” Sawyer scanned the rustic views. “It's a grand place. A little run down. But with some spit and polish, it'd be perfect for someone who loves horses.”

Seth gave a satisfied sigh. “I knew you were the right man to catch the vision of what this place used to be.

“Could be again,” Sawyer corrected. “Think a rich come-here will buy it?

Seth snorted. “Probably. Who else has that kind of money 'sides them?”

“I hear you, sir.” He laughed. “Me and you work for a living.”

Honey's dad eyed him. “Me and you got more in common than you think, young man.”

Sawyer shifted. “I don't know what you mean.”

“That's 'cause what I'm about to tell you I ain't never told another human being. 'Cept my Marian, God rest her soul.”

“Sir, I don't know if you should—”

“My father, Kole, was what Grandmother Duer euphemistically called a ne'er do well.”

Sawyer dropped his eyes.

“What the state of Virginia called a convicted criminal.” Seth pursed his lips. “He died incarcerated in the state penitentiary when I was fourteen after he stabbed a man to death over a woman in Norfolk.”

Sawyer knotted his hands together.

“Braeden told me how you're afeared you inherited a criminal gene from your father. That's nothing but a load of fish guts, son.”

Sawyer inhaled sharply.

“Braeden also told me how you've got some mistaken notion you were saving Honey from yourself by walking away. How you believe the lies that sorry son of a biscuit eater told you. That you're no good and you don't deserve anything good in your life.”

Seth Duer jutted his jaw. “And I'm here to tell you that's a lie. You're a rescuer, son. Not a destroyer. And I'm living proof you don't have to be what my brilliant daughter Caroline used to call a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

The older man glanced away, his face pinched. “Too smart for her own good, my Caroline.” He sighed. “But that's a story for another day.”

“You don't understand, sir.” Sawyer half turned in the seat. “My father said my mother only got addicted to heroin after I was born. That I ruined her. That because of me...”

Sawyer gripped the armrest. “He said... She left, died on the street, because of me.”

“And you gonna believe anything that man told you?” Seth huffed. “He beat you, didn't he, Sawyer? When you were a boy?”

The shame he'd known as a child crept up his neck. “I—I deserved it. I ruined his life, too, when he had to marry my mother.”

Honey's father caught his arm. “You didn't deserve any of that. No child does. She should have never left you. Not with him. But I'd guess she left to get away from
him
. Not
you
. 'Cause if he was beating on you, he started first on her.”

A memory Sawyer hadn't recalled in a dozen years flew to the forefront of his mind. Of his mother sitting on the floor of the flophouse they called home in Tulsa. Nursing a welt to her cheek. Sobbing.

His stomach roiled. “All the more reason, sir... I'm not good enough for Honey or your family. Suppose I became like him or my mother?”

Sadness coated Seth Duer's features. “Same thing I told Marian Savage. She loved me anyway.” Moisture dampened his eyes. “God, too. She told me that because of Him in me, I didn't have to become my father.”

The waterman blew out a breath. “Nor my mother, either. Although I've been less successful...” His mouth tightened. “Again, a story for another day.”