The Red Door Inn (24 page)

“Do you hear what I'm saying?”

She shook her head, pulling back from an image of those
hands holding hers, caressing her face. “I'm sorry. What is it that you're trying to say?”

He paced a little more. Sat in the chair opposite her. Stood again. Marched. Then sat back down.

“I wasn't this nervous at twenty-five.”

His words surprised her, and she took pity on him. She pushed herself to her feet, stepped in front of him, and held out her hands. He grabbed them like a lifeline, squeezing until she smiled.

“Jack, don't be nervous. Just tell me what's on your heart.”

“You are.”

She gasped. How was she supposed to respond to such a simple declaration? But she didn't have to. He wasn't done.

“For as foolhardy as those kids can be, Seth and Marie have both asked me what I want. And I realized tonight that what I want most is a second chance at life. Didn't even realize it until I was halfway in love with you. But I guess God knew what I needed.”

“And Rose?”

He put a hand over his heart and took a loud breath. “She's always going to be here. But that doesn't mean she's going to be here.” He motioned back and forth between them with his finger. “I asked God to help me honor her, and I do that by living. You're my answer to prayer.”

Tears filled her eyes, and his face turned blurry. She reached out anyway, finding his cheek despite her temporary blindness. She smoothed a thumb over his wrinkles, and he leaned into her hand.

“That's the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me. I like being an answer to prayer.”

“I like you.”

She blinked, setting the tears in her eyes loose. As they ran down her cheeks, he leaned in, kissing them away. His lips were soft and warm, filling her heart with a need she'd thought long since forgotten.

“Please don't cry. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize what was right in front of me.”

“I'll stop.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “On one condition.”

“What's that?”

“Kiss me for real.”

He met her condition with flying colors, pulling her close and sealing their deal in one easy motion.

Marie jumped as Ruby Holt poked her in the ribs. “Turn the page,” she whispered.

This was becoming far too much of a habit, and if she didn't start paying attention to the hymn singing, Ruby would take the book away. At least she hadn't torn a page in the hymnal yet that morning. Which was quite a feat given the set of eyes that had been staring at the back of her head the entire service.

At least it felt like he'd been staring.

She'd have been staring if she were sitting behind
him
.

As it was, the tingles going down her spine the entire service and the letter tucked into her pocket had been more than enough to distract her in her weekly hymnal-holding duties, and Caden's little niece had learned nothing about patience and understanding since they first shared a pew nearly two months before.

Marie had barely had a chance to read the letter after Seth
slipped it in her hand as he passed her on the lawn beneath the giant tree dressed in purple leaves. No words, no explanation. Just a gentle smile, his hand on hers, and an envelope tucked into her fingers.

She followed him with her gaze until he disappeared into the church behind Jack and Aretha, who were holding hands like they were on their way to the prom.

She'd had to hurry to make it into her place on the Holt family pew before Father Chuck began the service. And when she sat down, Seth had sat directly behind her.

It hadn't taken more than a quick scan of the letter—typed out on the trusty Underwood—to know exactly what it meant. What Seth wanted.

He wanted a second chance.

All she wanted was a chance to think things through without the weight of his gaze on her shoulders.

From his place at the front of the room, Father Chuck finished leading the hymn, and her duties were paused for a brief moment.

“Before we close the service with one of my favorite hymns, I want to remind you of a wonderful promise from the book of Matthew, chapter seven, verse eleven. ‘If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!' God isn't a vending machine to ask for the things that we want. Rather, he gives us what is best. He works the things of this world for the good of those who love him. He's the fountain of every blessing, the loving Father who longs to give us sweet gifts.

“Turn in your hymnals to number 273 as we close the service.”

She began flipping pages as fast as she could, automatically curling into the inevitable jab if she didn't get there fast enough. At least the hymn had made it onto one page.

The pianist hammered out a quick introduction, and the church took a collective breath before launching into the first lines. “Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing Thy grace.” The rest of the church continued on, but her voice fell silent. The first line rolled around in her mind over and over again until she could see the words on the backs of her eyelids. The fount of every blessing. Like the blessings fathers longed to give their daughters.

Her entire life she'd only been able to see God as distant and uncaring. If he was her heavenly Father, he must be like Elliot Carrington.

But what if he was like Jack Sloane? Intent on loving and blessing her, even when she had nothing to give him in return.

She swept a glance down the row to Caden, who gave her a quick smile. And then there were Aretha and Jack, snuggled together sharing a hymnal across the aisle. And Seth, his rich tenor joining in the chorus that swelled until it seemed the sanctuary's windowpanes would burst.

All of the terrible times had brought her here. To the island she loved, the home she'd hoped for, the blessings of a family she'd always wanted.

And a love she'd never expected.

On the third verse, the pianist stomped his foot and pounded the keys, and she joined in as the words rang through the ceiling beams.

“O to grace how great a debtor

Daily I'm constrained to be!

Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,

Bind my wandering heart to Thee.”

Her voice trailed off, tears coming to her eyes. She didn't have a clue what a “fetter” was, but the goodness they sang about—she knew a thing or two about that. And it would keep her coming back to him over and over.

M
arie forced herself to walk the path along the bay, wrinkling the paper in her hand as she strolled. It didn't matter—she'd memorized every word in Seth's letter by the fourth read, and she hadn't stopped there.

Like a confirmation of the good gifts God was pouring over her, the letter sealed her heart until it couldn't contain any more. She had to talk with him. Tell him everything.

Her pace picked up, feet pounding like they had the first time she'd run these boards. Except this time she wasn't broken by her past. Her future stood before her, and if his note was any indication, Seth was going to be an important part of it.

She crossed the street to the deserted beach, her steps slowing only to accommodate the give of the sand. But as she rounded the corner, eyes trained on Seth's spot, her motion stopped. The jetty was empty.

She looked at the envelope in her hands, then back at the rocks reaching into the clear blue water. He'd said his spot. He'd said he'd be there until dark. It was barely noon.

She'd rushed to change out of her church clothes and run to meet him.

And he wasn't there.

Tears tingled the corners of her eyes, but she rubbed them away, refusing to give in to the emotional letdown. White puffs dotted the sky's blue expanse, and she followed a particularly fast one. “God, I don't understand. What's going on?”

The sea-salt breeze carried her whisper to the heavens, but the rest of the world was silent save for the clapping waves and a stray seagull. She knelt on the sand, sat back on her heels, and bowed her head as the island's lullaby rocked her back and forth.

She could do nothing but wait for an answer.

If God was the fount of every blessing, then he heard her needs, knew the breaking of her heart and the insecurities that still lingered in the shadows there. He wouldn't leave her to face another disappointment alone, would he?

He'd never stopped caring for her before. Real fathers never did.

It brought a smile to her face as she rubbed her hands over her cheeks.

“Gosh, you're fast.”

She whipped around at Seth's voice, nearly falling into the sand, but he beat her to it, dropping down beside her, his long limbs splayed.

“I've been chasing you since the Red Door. I was calling you, but you got to the fishing village and took off running.” He panted, staring up at the sky from his flat position. “You should definitely look into running in a race.”

Her heart galloped and her mouth dropped open, but the only response she could manage was a loud hiccup.

He jerked up, looking right into her eyes. “Hey. What's wrong?” He wiped a sandy hand across the leg of his jeans before brushing a crooked finger under her eye where a tear had gotten loose. “Why are you crying?”

“I'm not.”

His smile grew with each moment, his eyes burning with something she couldn't name, but it called to her. “You're a bad liar. Especially when your perfect cheeks have tear tracks down them.”

Her stomach swooped, and she had to look away, but he used that same finger to tilt her chin back up.

His smile waned, the line of his mouth turning serious, but the fire in his eyes never dimmed. “Tell me what's going on in that head of yours.”

She shook her head. She couldn't tell him the whole truth.

You need to.

She tried to shush the voice in her head, but it was right. She couldn't deal in half truths and partial lies and expect to earn Seth's trust. If she forgave him, she had to act like it.

Taking a deep breath, she let it out in a deluge. “I was afraid you weren't going to show up. When you weren't here, I was worried that you'd changed your mind or forgotten or . . . I don't know.”

He licked his lips, squinting at her like she was a piece of furniture up for auction. “You don't have to worry about that. I don't think I'll ever forget about you. And I'm not going to change my mind.”

She swallowed as the hand that had been cupping her ear traveled down her neck, his fingertips brushing into the hair at her nape. Fire shot through her, every nerve in flames, every extremity blazing.

“Are you sure?” She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, and opened them just before continuing. “You heard what I said to my dad, right?”

Anger flashed through his hazel eyes, and she leaned away. At least she tried to. But the tender hand under her chin held her still as compassion filled the crevices of his face. “I did.” His Adam's apple bobbed. “And I am so sorry. I can't imagine how terrible that was—is.” His lips pinched tight for a moment, little lines forming around the corners. The cleft in his chin quivered for a moment, and he blinked hard, but he never looked away. “I'll do whatever you want. I'll support you however you need to deal with this.”

Her pulse thrummed, especially under his palm at her neck. “It took me a week to leave my house afterward. And I was in counseling for two months after that. But none of that was as good for me as just being here. Learning to feel safe around a man.” And she did feel safe with him. Now.

“I scared you at first, didn't I?”

“Maybe. A little.”

He lifted his eyebrows.

“All right. A lot.” She pushed his shoulder. “You're just so big. But it's not so bad when you have your arms around me.” Heat rushed up her neck.

Oh, she hadn't meant to say that out loud.

He chuckled. “I'm okay with that.” Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he tugged her against his chest, a wall of muscle beneath her head and the steady beats of his heart under her ear.

It was easier to talk to him when she didn't have to look into his eyes, and she let herself open up about the things that she'd never admitted to another soul. Some things she'd
barely acknowledged to herself. “After everything that happened in Boston, I convinced myself that God was like my dad. It was easier to picture a God who didn't hear my prayers than a God who had heard and let it happen anyway. I wanted to be angry. And I had this uncontrollable reminder of that night with every panic attack.”

His muscles tensed against her back. “For a while there at the beginning when you had attacks, I thought you were dying,” he said.

“For a while, so did I.” She closed her eyes as his heartbeat slowed to a more normal rhythm. “I hated them. I felt so weak, so defeated. Like it was God's cruel reminder that Derek had won. Over and over. So I kept telling myself that God didn't hear me, but I still called out for him to rescue me with every attack. Because even though I told myself he didn't care, I desperately wanted him to.”

“And what have you decided about that?”

A gull swooped low, landing on the beach and digging for a leftover treat. “Just that God longed to give me good gifts. What came before got me to right here, right now, and made me more thankful for them than I could have been before. After all, he gave me a family I never expected, Jack and Aretha, Caden, and . . .” Her voice trailed off as she suddenly recognized she'd been about to name him as her sweetest gift. At least he couldn't see the blush covering her face at that angle.

He cleared his throat. “I'm not a perfect man.”

“Oh, really?” She laid the sarcasm on a little too thick.

“Hey, you didn't have to agree so quickly.” He bobbed his shoulder, bouncing her head, but she found her spot again, safely tucked into his side.

“I was kidding. Go on. Tell me about your imperfections.”

Now it was his turn for a bit of teasing. “Well, there are so few of them. And they're hardly noticeable. So you're a very lucky woman.”

She wrapped her hands around his waist, pulling him close as his heart kicked into overdrive.

She'd done that. She'd made his pulse race like an express train. It stole her breath. Not a panic attack or anything resembling fear. Just shortened breaths caught up in the hope for what might lay ahead of them.

His hand moved in slow circles on her back, and she lifted her head to kiss the underside of his smooth jaw, the scent of aftershave still clinging to him.

“You shaved.”

He nodded, catching her chin where it was tilted toward him. “I promised I would.”

A roller coaster couldn't have made her insides fly apart faster. He'd made that promise after their first kiss. About their next kisses.

She'd hoped. She'd come to this spot hoping for at least one more kiss. And maybe more. She didn't know what the future would bring or what exactly she was ready for.

But she was definitely ready for one more kiss.

He was too. That simple fact sent her falling against him, knocking him into the sand, and half lying on top of him. “What were you expecting, Seth?”

His grin was slow and crooked, and he leaned up until only inches separated their lips. He cupped her cheeks with his hands, his breath fanning her face. “Nothing. I wasn't expecting anything. I was just praying you'd give me a second chance.”

“I'm not going to lie.” Her words were barely a whisper, and the way his gaze had zeroed onto her lips, he was probably reading them. “I was expecting ice cream.”

He licked his lips. “I forgot my wallet.” His words were serious, but she could see the humor flickering in his eyes.

“Never stopped you before.”

“The kid at the ice cream shop refused me a second chance. You won't be as cruel, will you?”

She shook her head and touched her lips to his. Like lightning touching a pine tree, her world exploded, and she jolted back.

Seth's expression matched her own surprise. But he quickly recovered, tucking her hair behind her ear and smiling. “I guess that's a yes to the second chance?”

“I suppose.” And just to make sure he didn't have to doubt it, she kissed him once more. The sand under her knees shifted as she lost herself to the tender touch of his hand on her back and the whispered brush of his knuckles along her jaw.

This was what it felt like to be cherished.

Heart swelling, she closed her eyes against the sweet torture of being so near to this man who made her lose her breath in the best possible way. When she finally pulled away and nestled into his neck, he smelled of salt and lumber and the inn they both loved.

“And just how many second chances do you think you're going to need, Seth Sloane?”

“I don't know, but I sure hope they all come with kisses like that.”

She did too.

Seth squeezed Marie's hand, tugging her closer to his side.

She shot him a look of frustration that made him laugh and reached with her free hand to snag another cream puff off of Caden's silver tray. “These are so good,” she sighed, popping the whole thing into her mouth. She groaned in delight. “It's like she took cooking lessons in heaven.”

He laughed again, bumping into Caden's mom and Aretha, who were appraising the antique furniture and decorations in the dining room. Aretha winked as though seeing them hold hands was something new.

“You've done an amazing job with this old place, Marie.” Caden's mom—whose name he could not remember—nodded in appreciation at the framed seascapes along the walls.

“I wish I could take credit for it, but nearly everything in the Red Door is from Aretha's store. She's the one with excellent taste. I just borrowed from it.”

Aretha glowed, pushing her hands out and passing the compliment on.

“I especially love the Montgomery Suite upstairs. The quilt with the quote about dreams is amazing.”

His heart skittered, praying that during the endless tours no one had noticed what he'd left in that room.

“Thank you. That was a fun day—finding all those quilts.” Marie tightened her grip on his hand, and he knew the memories she recalled. The auction. The time in his truck. The first time he'd ever opened up to her.

He'd been halfway in love with her even then but too inane to realize it.

As the women wandered off, Marie hooked her arm through his. They leaned against the wall, watching their friends mingle and mix. A large group, led by Father Chuck,
lined the antique buffet, taking hearty helpings of Caden's treats.

Marie pushed to her tiptoes and leaned on his shoulder. “I knew that was going to be popular. Just wait until the guests arrive next week. It'll be perfect.”

“Yes, it will.” Just like her.

He smoothed her hair from the top of her head down to her cheek and leaned in to kiss her lips. At the last second, he decided their audience might not appreciate such a display, so he pressed his lips against her forehead, a promise of things to come.

Just as he pulled back, Jack stepped to the front of the room, raising his hands and calling for their attention. A hush fell across the crowd, smiling faces all turned to his uncle. By his side, Aretha buzzed with anticipation and excitement.

“You know I'm not a man of many words. So I'll keep this brief. Just want to thank you for coming out tonight and for what you all have done to make my Rose's dream a reality.”