 
Home on Seashell Island

A Seashell Island Novel

By

Brenda Kennedy

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright 2017 by Brenda Kennedy

Dedicated with much love and respect to

Sylvia and Larry Burchett, aka Gran and Pap

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain noncommercial uses permitted by the author. For permission requests, email the author at  brendakennedy48@gmail.com.

Synopsis

Carly Stewart put everything she owns in storage before leaving her live-in boyfriend in New York to pursue happiness.

While staying temporarily at her family's vacation home on Seashell Island, Carly runs into an old family friend, Beauregard Romano. However, Carly is pleasantly surprised that Beau is no longer the same scrawny boy she remembered. She can't deny that he's certainly transformed into a sexy hunk over the years.

She's successfully self-employed, has an unrefined vocabulary, and is a wine enthusiast in the prime of her life.

He's a single father of a three-year-old daughter and the preacher of the only church on Seashell Island.

Will sparks fly between the two? Can they make their differences work? Or is it best to ignore the sparks and pretend they don't exist?
Prologue

Sad and lonely, Carly Stewart walks around her condo in New York City. A woman in her twenties, she seems to have it all. A growing career, a live-in boyfriend, and a beautiful condo. But it isn't enough. Something's missing.

While Spencer is working late again, for the fourth night this week, Carly sits at the table with her bottle of wine, looking out the window at the view of Central Park. This is what she wanted, right? To live in the hustle and bustle of one of the busiest places in the U.S. Then why isn't she happy?

Carly packs her suitcases and sets them by the large double doors. Then she calls a moving company to come and pack her personal belongings on the next available day.

She can't exactly pinpoint the day or the time that she realized this isn't what she wanted. Her first memory back to when she questioned her happiness was the night she and Spencer were having dinner in a five-star restaurant and he snorted. Loudly. That was the first of many laugh snorts she would notice and later dread.

She also can't remember when he started chewing gum. It wasn't so much the gum chewing that drove her crazy as it was the gum popping. Certainly, if she had noticed his annoying habits before, she wouldn't be sitting here at the table alone and thinking about how miserable she is.

Carly's hoping that when Spencer comes home from work and sees her luggage, they'll be able to talk about her decision to leave, and she won't just up and leave while he's at work. That does seem like the cowardly thing to do. It would be much better to let him know up front that she's unable to continue living this way. Wouldn't it? Maybe she can mention laugh snorts and gum popping as some of the reasons for her unhappiness. Should she tell him about the night farts? His fart-producing, too-much-meat diet is definitely something she wants him to change.

The next morning when she gets up she can't be sure that Spencer came home at all last night. If he did, he never woke her. If he did, he didn't sleep in their bed. And if he saw her suitcases by the entrance door, he didn't wake her to ask her about them. Maybe he doesn't care. Maybe he was relieved to see that's she's moving on. It isn't until she sees his coffee mug in the sink that she knows for sure he was here.

She showers, has her coffee, then waits for the movers to come and pack her stuff. She's arranged with the moving company to store everything in their storage unit until she can decide where to send her stuff to. She leaves an itemized list on the kitchen counter of everything she's taking in case Spencer later questions it. Carly wonders when or if Spencer would even notice her absence from the condo. Would it be immediately, or would it be hours, days, or even weeks? Would he be sad and miss her, or would be relieved she's gone? Sadly, she doesn't really care.

Since Carly's mom, Pap, and Gram told Carly and her only sister, Sarah, daily that they were each one-of-a-kind and no one could ever take her place, she believed them. But she didn't think that Spencer had shared those same beliefs. Last night was proof of that. If she was a one-of-a-kind, wouldn't Spencer be there with her?

When the last item was loaded into the truck, Carly took one last look around and then locked the door behind her before tossing the house key into the mailbox for Spencer to find later. How much later she couldn't guess.
Chapter One

Carly

I knew of one place that I could go and truly be alone. One place where Spencer's never been and he doesn't know about, and the one place that I could be by myself. I just never imagined I would be returning to my family's vacation home on Seashell Island alone. In fact, I can't even remember a single time when I was at the beach house by myself. The four-bedroom, four-bath house was designed and made for a large family. It was built for leisurely time spent with friends and family. The open floor plan allowed for entertaining. It screams family fun, not solitary living.

During peak season, the beautiful island comes alive with vacationers and tourists. People rush to the secluded area because it's known for the huge seashells, sea glass, and crystal-clear water. It's also known for the sea life that makes its way near the shoreline frequently, offering the beach goers an up-close and rare view of various species. Food vendors and craft tables line the cobblestone streets trying to persuade tourists to purchase unique, handcrafted products. The large shade trees offer relief from the bright sun, making the area a popular spot for tourists and locals.

When I went to my grandparents and asked if I could stay at the beach house for a while, they didn't ask one single question. They gave me the keys and an envelope with a little cash for any necessities I may need. I didn't need their money, but they wouldn't take no for an answer.

Pap did warn me of a strong storm that had passed through the area recently. He said he was concerned about the impact the storm had on the beach house, but not concerned enough to make the trip there to check on the damage himself.

"Gram, I don't need all this money."

"Nonsense. Pap and I haven't been there in a while. You use the money on whatever you need while you're there. That was a pretty nasty storm the other day. Tony from the local market called and said it looked like a couple of the wooden shutters were hanging off the hinges. You may need to pay someone for the repairs. When you get there, if the damage is worse than what we think, call us and we'll be right there."

Pap smiled. I already knew there was no arguing with either of them. I was pretty sure that if they believed in the slightest that the storm was that bad, they would have already been there making the repairs themselves.

"And you call us as soon as you get there, Carly Jo. You know how much we worry about you."

I hugged Pap tightly and whispered into his ear, "I will, Pap. As soon as I get there, I'll call."

"And if that's not enough money, you let us know."

"Gram," I said, hugging her next, "it'll be plenty. Thank you so much."

"You stay there as long as you want, Carly Jo. I'll call Tony and let him know you'll be arriving there later this evening. I'll also call Beauregard to double-check the house for damages."

I know my grandparents are serious about letting me stay there for as long as I want, but I also don't plan on staying there long, just long enough for me to figure out what to do. I had been living with Spencer so figuring out a place for me to live would be a concern. Although I called a moving company to come pack, move, and store my things, I still had no place to call home. I work from home so as long as I have Mean Mac and the internet I won't have to worry about work or my finances. Mean Mac's what I call my computer. When I first changed my computer of choice to a Mac, I swear it sat in a corner of the room and growled at me every time I thought about turning it on or logging on. Now we have this understanding, I treat him with the respect he demands and he does what I need him to do. Of course, this didn't happen until I read the owner's manual front to back. By then, I had already named him and it kind of stuck.

I make the four-hour drive in silence. I leave the air conditioner on in the car, but roll down my windows to feel the warm breeze on my face. It's a false sense of freedom, but it's still welcoming. When I get off the exit, I have only about twenty more miles until I'm there.

Just before I pull into the driveway of the vacation home, I do what Pap asked. I call them to let them know I have arrived safely.

Driving down the tree-lined driveway brings back happy memories. When the pale-yellow beach house with white shutters comes into view, memories flood my head and warm my heart. I sit in the car reliving days gone by. Making homemade ice cream on the front porch with Pap on a hot summer day, and Gram teaching me how to knit during the cold winter's days. Catching fireflies with my older sister, Sarah, and making fresh squeezed lemonade with Mom as she reminisced about her own childhood spent in this exact house.

I get out of the car and look around the yard. The grass is freshly cut, the sidewalks are edged, and the flower beds are overflowing with an array of bright colorful flowers. I knew Gram and Pap kept the utilities up, but I wasn't aware that they also paid someone to do the yard work in their absence. Walking around the house looking for storm damage to the shutters and screen doors, I'm happily surprised when there is none.

As I walk into the beach house carrying my two suitcases, I look around at the four-bedroom, four-bath beach house. Nothing has changed here since I was a little girl. The handmade quilts still cover the old vintage beds, and white milk glass, Depression glassware, and handspun pottery still decorate the hundred-year-old China cabinet in the dining room. The china cabinet was passed down from my great-grandmother. The beige color walls look freshly painted with sheer white curtains hanging from every window.

I kick off my flip-flops at the door and walk across the dark walnut hardwood floors before walking past my grandparents' bedroom. Stopping at my mother's bedroom door, I peek inside, admiring everything. All of it metaphorically says Mom. Then I make my way to the last two bedrooms at the back of the house. My sister and I had separate bedrooms although we always slept together in my full-sized bed.

I smile at the memories as I set the suitcases on the same bed I shared with my sister, Sarah. When the musty smell of the house stirs me from my memories, I walk into each room of the house opening the curtains and then the windows to let the sunshine and the fresh sea air in. It isn't until I open the large patio doors that I feel like I'm home. The in-ground pool is clean and clear. It looks like someone is living in the house. When I arrived, I expected that I would have to cut the grass and clean the pool, but it's done. I guess the island isn't a place where people let things go. I'm sure it would be frowned upon to have tall grass or weeds in your flowerbeds. Curb appeal is what makes the entire island special and inviting.

The house is air conditioned, but my grandparents always opened the windows and doors to let the fresh air in. Even at night, we never locked the doors. I wonder if it's still safe to do that now?

Before unpacking, I put the sheets in the washer, sweep the front porch, and then rearrange the rocking chairs and the white wicker furniture. The front porch was always the main gathering place when my family was here for their many family vacations and holidays.

Since my dad died when I was only four years old, Gram and Pap always tried to be there for my mom, their only daughter, and their only two granddaughters. It must have worked because neither Sarah nor I felt as though we missed out on anything in our childhood. Of course, we missed our daddy, but Gram and Pap filled that void nicely by giving us a childhood we'll never forget, not to mention an endless amount of love and support.

When my belly growls, I realize I need to make a dash to the local market. After taking inventory of the non-perishable food items that are in the house, I get the sea-blue and white bicycle with the handlebar straw basket from the garage and ride the couple miles to the nearest market.

The market was owned by an Italian family, Tony and Maria Romano. They had one son with whom Sarah and I used to play when we were here for the summers. Maria passed away from cancer a few years earlier and sadly, I was too busy to attend her memorial. That'll be something I'll always regret. I wonder if Tony still owns and runs the market. I know that he and his son, Beau, are still living on the island.

Before I stop at the market, I ride down by the bay. The sun is high in the sky and the smell of the sea is in the air. I inhale the salty air and bask briefly in the sunshine. For the first time in weeks, I'm able to let go and finally relax. I left my problems back in New York, or so I hope.

I stop at a few craft vendors and admire their crafts. My favorite shops are the jewelry made from sea glass and the man who sketches your portrait to look like an animated character.

I push Gram's bike through the tree-lined streets until I reach the market nestled in between a souvenir shop and an ice cream parlor. The quaint village is just as I remembered it. Businesses line the tree-lined street on both sides of the street. I notice a bookstore, a florist, a tea shop, and a quilt shop that I don't remember being here the last time I visited.

As I walk into the store, Tony greets me warmly. "Your Pap called and told me you were coming," he says in an Italian accent.

"Hi, Tony, it's great seeing you. I didn't know if you were still working here."

"I'll die here," he teases. "It's in my blood." He walks from around the counter and hugs me. "Are your mother and sister joining you later?"

I know he's asking since we usually all come as a family or in a group. Sometimes Pap joins us later because of work or other obligations.

"No, not this trip. It's just me."

He looks at me with concern. His dark hair has turned mostly gray since I last saw him.

"You okay, Shorty?"

"I'm fine, Tony. Just wanted to get away for a few days."

A customer stands at the counter with a basket of food waiting patiently to be waited on.

"We'll talk again soon, Shorty."

I watch as he greets the woman and small child standing at the register. Although I need a full cart of groceries, I carry a basket around the small market picking up some fresh produce, beverages, and a few other items I'll need over the next few days. I should have driven my car, but I couldn't resist the bicycle ride. I don't have a problem shopping every few days for the things I'll need. I may be here only a few days, it's hard to tell. Since I'm so indecisive, it's probably best that I shop day to day. I do grab a couple bottles of wine to hold me over until I come back.

When I check out at the register, I remember to ask Tony about the storm damage on the beach house that he reported to Pap. As he takes the items from the basket and rings them up, he says, "My big and strong son Beauregard repaired the dangling shutters."

Although it's been years since I last saw Beau, I remember him as a skinny, scrawny boy. I bite my lip to keep from laughing at his comment about Beau being big and strong. "Please thank him for me."

"I will, Shorty, but he'll be by the beach house later this week. He said the screen door doesn't latch."

I didn't notice that, but then again, I didn't pay that much attention to the front door. I was busy concentrating on finding any dangling shutters.

I watch as Tony bags my groceries and hands them to me. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing, your Pap said to put everything on his tab."

"No, Tony. Please, I have the money. How much do I owe you?"

"Shorty, I'm a smart man. I'm not going to argue with a man like your grandfather." He smiles revealing perfectly straight teeth for a man of his age. "You call him and when he tells me to charge you, I'll charge you; until then, it goes on his tab."

I knew he was right. I knew that Pap wouldn't agree to let me pay for my own groceries. While taking the groceries from him, I smile. "Thank you, Tony, and please thank Beau for me for repairing the shutters. I appreciate his handyman skills."

He laughs as he waits on the next customer. "See you in a few days, Shorty."

I load the groceries into the basket and ride the bicycle home while admiring the quaint shops, perfectly manicured lawns, and cottage-style homes that make the island unique and inviting. There's very little car traffic, but I do notice many families walking their pets and playing in their yards with their children. I pay special attention to an older couple holding hands while rounding the corner. I feel a sadness deep in my heart because I know this might be something I'll never experience again. Are love and contentment in my future? Will I find someone who'll love me forever? I guess the better question is, will I find someone whom I can love forever? I hope so.

The island is busier than I remember for this time of year. It looks like more people are calling it their permanent home rather than just a vacation spot. It's definitely built up since I was here last.

After the groceries are put away, I make a late lunch and sit outside by the pool. When my skin starts to feel tight, I decide the sun would be better in small doses; I've had enough for one day. After I put fresh linens on the bed, I decide to do a little work. I'm a romance author and I write under a pen name. I don't even think Spencer knew what I did for a living. He never asked, and I never told him. He knew I worked from home and he knew I had a steady income, but that's all he cared about.

It's undeniably best that I ended this relationship with him when I did. It would never have worked between us. I'm just sorry it took me so long to realize that. Spencer may be hurt now, but he'll also realize that this is what's best for both of us.

I pour myself a glass of wine and then open my laptop while sitting outside under the large covered porch. I decide to start a new book. This will help take my mind off my problems. Maybe I can write about a character with problems similar to mine and give her a happily-ever-after.

Drumming my fingers on the keypad, I run into trouble right away. My mind stalls at the beginning paragraph. I listen to the sounds around me, the smell of flowers, fruit trees, and the salty sea air. The leaves rustle in the trees as the wind blows. White fluffy clouds decorate the nearly clear blue sky. Nothing. It isn't until I hear organ music and singing coming from the church that I decide to give up for the day. I've never had writer's block, and I hope this isn't what is happening.

I walk in the direction of the singing to the only church on the island. The doors and windows are open and the sound of gospel music is soothing and comforting. I can't remember the last time I was in a church. Maybe at my last family vacation. Gram and Pap always made us go every Sunday. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure they made us, but we always knew we were expected to be there. It was automatic. Every Sunday morning, we would dress in our Sunday clothes and walk the short distance to this very church. When did I lose faith in God? Have I lost faith? I pray and I believe in a higher power so why don't I attend church?

Looking up at the big white church with stained-glass windows that sits on the corner of the street, I don't need to wonder if I'm welcome here. The open doors reassure me that I am welcome, that we all are welcome in the house of the Lord.

I walk into the church. When I don't see anyone, I take a hymnal from the podium and take a seat in the back of the room. The choir conductor instructs everyone on what to sing next. It must be dress rehearsal because everyone is wearing white choir robes. They look like angels. Thankful that I'm unnoticed, I close my eyes and enjoy the beautiful melody. I don't need the hymnal to know the lyrics to "Amazing Grace." It's a favorite song in my family.

I'm startled when someone says, "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you think you could give me a hand?" Opening my eyes, I see a man standing in front of me. He's dressed in a white dress shirt, black slacks, and a black tie. "I'm the preacher here. Could you please come with me? It'll just take a moment."

Without saying a word, I stand and follow the man down the small hallway. He's tall with dark wavy hair, and very handsome. When we come to a room where I hear giggling, he says, "The woman who runs the childcare on Wednesday had an accident. I have an important conference call, and I just need you to sit with the children until I'm done." Children? I don't know anything about children. When he sees the look on my face, he pleads, "Please, I'm desperate."

He's a man of God and he's pleading for help. "Yes, of course. I'll be happy to help." Should I tell him I have no idea what I'm doing? No, I can't say that. It's what, like eight- and nine-year-olds? Preschoolers? How bad can it be? I'm bigger than they are. But wait, I'll be outnumbered.

"My office is right across the hall. If you need me, I'm just an earshot away. I'll even leave the door open."

If I need you? Don't you mean when I need you? He leaves before I can say anything. Inhaling, I take a deep breath and walk into the carpeted pre-school learning center. They're kids. I can do this, right? I sure hope so.

Nothing could have prepared me for the room full of three- and four-year-olds running around, chasing each other, and screaming. I stand in the open doorway and watch in amazement as they run around laughing and giggling. If it wasn't for fear of me wondering how I was going to get these kids under control, I might have enjoyed their playfulness. Looking behind me, I see that the preacher did indeed leave his office door open. He's watching me as he talks on the phone. I hurry into the room and leave the door slightly ajar.

The sound of me walking into the room and my presence among the preschoolers didn't interrupt them. I clear my throat and they continue their game of tag. Searching the room, I decide to walk over to the piano. It's been months since I played, but I hope it's like riding a bicycle: Once you learn, you never forget how, although you might be rusty.

Sitting on the stool, I thumb through the music sheets for the perfect song while still being ignored by the kids. When I find one from my own childhood, I begin to play it. As I begin to play and sing, the kids start to gather around the piano. The "Obedience" song turned out to be the right choice. I say a silent prayer that the kids are starting to calm down. They sing loudly as I continue to play. I knew music was calming to savage beasts, but I was only hoping it would have the same effect on children.

When that song is done, someone asks, "Can you play 'You Can't Get to Heaven'?"

Although I never heard of this song before, if there's a music sheet and it's a fairly simple song, I can play it. I hurriedly skim through the sheets of music until I find the song. "Are you ready?"

"Yay," the kids say in unison.

I play and they all sing along. It's a cute song and I can see why it's a favorite. Despite the title, it's a Sunday School song, not a Black Sabbath song. Of course, the lyrics make that clear.

I don't have kids of my own and I'm surprised to see how animated they are. I sing along to help keep them on track, although I don't need to. They know the words and the movements to the song by heart. I clap at the ending because they've done a great job. The girls bow and the boys stand there making funny faces.

"I didn't know there was so much talent in the room," I say.

"What's talent?" a little girl asks.

"It's when someone can do something really well."

"Like sing?" someone else asks.

"That's right."

"Are you our new teacher?" a little boy in the back asks.

"No, I'm just here today helping out. Do you want to sing another song?"

"Do you know 'This Little Light of Mine'?"

"I do know that song." It's another favorite song from my childhood.

"It's my favorite song. My mommy used to sing it with me."

I decide not to ask about her mother since she said she used to sing it with her. I play it and they sing along happily.

I stand from the piano and look around the room when I see a corner of the room with art supplies. "Do you want to make some crafts?"

A little boy asks, "Can we use glue?"

Can they use glue? Do I want little kids using glue? "You can use a little glue," I say.

"And paint?" he asks, walking over to the craft supplies.

"No, Jimmy can't have paint, 'cause he eats it," a little girl says to me.

Thanks for the heads-up. Now I wonder if he eats glue. "No paint, but we can use crayons." Oh, great. I bet he eats crayons, too. I make it a point to keep this little girl close. She seems to know a lot about little Jimmy.

I was expecting an argument over the paint, but they all seem content with playing with the glue and crayons. I make a mental note to watch little Jimmy with the art supplies, mainly the paint. There will be no eating glue, paint, or crayons on my watch.

I keep watching the door expecting to see the man from earlier walk into the room so I can leave. After a while, I give up. I decide his conference call took longer than he expected. He's a man of God, and if he needs help and I'm available, the least I can do is help out.

Just as the craft ends, the preacher walks back into the room.

"Daddy," the little girl who knows a lot about Jimmy squeals.

She runs into his open arms. I watch as he lovingly picks her up and kisses her.

He walks over to me and immediately apologizes. "The call took longer than expected. I'm sorry to leave you here with the children for so long."

"No, please, don't apologize. It's fine. It's not like I had anything else to do." I soon realize how pathetic I must sound.

"You don't remember me, do you, Carly?"

I look at him amazed that he knows my name. I can't place him. "I'm sorry, I don't."

"It's been a long time." He sets his daughter down and she joins in with the other kids cleaning up the craft table. "My dad told me I best be getting the repairs done on your grandparents' house before you arrive."

"Beau?"

He smiles, revealing a beautiful smile.

"It's been a while. How have you been?" he asks.

I lean into him for a hug. Smiling, I say, "I'm good. It has been a very long time. How are you?"

"I can't complain." He walks over and helps the children with the cleanup.

"Is this your church?" I ask while also helping.

"It is. I was quite surprised to see you here today. I knew I'd run into you, but I didn't expect it to be here."

"I heard the music from home so I followed it to here."

"The choir sounds amazing," he admits. "I'm not even sure why they practice."

"They do sound incredible," I admit honestly. "I just left your dad's store. He looks well."

"He does. He's pretty content running the business. I told him he should hire someone to help him, but he refuses to listen. He likes the social time he has with the tourists and the regulars.

I remember how chatty he was with everyone in the checkout line. Then I remember Pap and Gram telling me about Tony's wife's passing.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother."

"Thank you, Carly. I appreciate that. Dad took it hard." His eyes scan the room. "We all did."

"There's no preparing for something like that."

"No, there sure isn't. Mom fought cancer, but it wasn't enough. We knew she was dying, but it was still very hard on all of us. Dad still struggles with it."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. We rejoice in knowing she's in a better place."

"So how long have you been here?"

"In the church?"

"Yes."

"I always came here for church services, but after Myra was born, that's when I turned to the church even more."

Myra must be his daughter. That was also about the time his mother passed away.

"I hope the children behaved for you," he says, changing the subject.

"They did. Your daughter was a big help."

"I take it Myra told you about Jimmy?"

"She did. Remind me to thank her later."

"We no longer have paint in the building. In fact, I don't think Dad carries it in the market either."

"If Jimmy eats paint, I'm sure it's for the best there's no paint in the building."

I pick up the rest of the craft supplies and begin wiping off the table with the disinfectant wipes I found above the sink.

"Pastor Beau, can we have snack time now?"

"You sure can. Go ahead and take your seat while I get the snacks together."

"Daddy, you want me to help?"

I watch as he looks down at the little girl with dark hair wearing the yellow dress.

"No, Myra. Daddy's got it."

He walks over to the small kitchenette.

"Thank you for your help with the kids."

I feel like he's dismissing me. "You're welcome." I watch as he opens the refrigerator and removes the cut-up fruit and raw vegetables. "Thank you for your help with the shutters."

"I'm glad to help. I'll be over in a few days to cut the grass."

"Do you also do the upkeep on the pool?"

"I do."

"When do you find the time?"

He laughs as he gathers the paper plates from the cabinet. "I like to stay busy."

I tell the children and Beau bye before I turn to leave. As I walk down the lonely road home, I see a blond-haired girl sitting on the front porch. A smile spreads across my face when I realize it's my sister, Sarah. I haven't seen my sister in nearly three years.

She stands when she sees me and her smile matches mine.

"Did Gram and Pap tell you I was here?"

She walks off the porch to hug me. "No, I swear." She pulls back and looks at me. "I asked them if I could come over for a few days and they said as long as I didn't mind spending time with you."

"You mean this is a coincidence?"

"Don't tell Pap that. You know he thinks everything happens for a reason and there's no such thing as an accidental encounter."

I hug her again. "I'm so happy to see you."

"Me, too. You ran off to the big city, met some rich guy, and forgot all about the little people."

Is that what it looked like I did? "I was trying to find myself. I didn't mean to exclude my family from my life. I swear."

"Well, Carly, did you ever find yourself?"

"No, I can't say I did."

We both laugh as we walk into the beach house.

"Where are you coming from?"

"The church. I walked up to hear the choir practice."

"I heard them from here. They sounded wonderful."

I can't get my mind off how different Beau looks. "Hey, have you seen Beauregard lately?"

"You mean little Beau with the pop bottle glasses? Tony and Maria's son?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Can't say I have, why?"

Do I tell her how much he's changed or how incredibly handsome he is? No, I shouldn't. "I just wondered. I went to the market earlier and Tony was there."

"I still feel bad for not attending Maria's funeral. We should have been here for that. I'm so ashamed that I wasn't here."

"I feel the same way. Gram, Mom, and Pap taught us better than that." My mind thinks back to hearing the news of her passing. "Sadly, I can't remember what was so important that I couldn't be here."

"I can't remember either. It probably had something to do with a guy."
Chapter Two

Carly

"Have you been here long?"

"No, I just got here," Sarah says.

"I arrived earlier today and I washed the sheets and blankets on the bed. You should wash the sheets and blankets on your bed, too."

"The house and the yard look great."

"I know. I didn't know Gram and Pap hired a landscaper all year round."

"We wouldn't know. I haven't been here for three years, maybe four."

"It's sad, isn't it, Sarah?"

"Yeah, it is. But we're here now, and we should open a bottle of wine to celebrate."

"I don't think we have any wine here," I lie. I love wine, but my sister likes it more than I do. If I tell her I bought two bottles, she'll drink them both, leaving me without. She doesn't know the meaning of pacing herself.

She places her hand over her heart and says, "Be still, my heart. No wine? Say it's not so."

I try to stifle a laugh. "When did you become so dramatic?"

"You know, from those drama classes I insisted on taking in college?"

"How can I forget?"

"Well, they're finally paying off."

"I can see that. Gram and Pap would be proud."

"I know they would," she says sarcastically. "Seriously, though, no wine?"

"I may have bought two bottles while at the market earlier."

"Look at you holding out on your sister."

"I feel bad about that." Should I tell her I lied because I didn't want her drinking it all and leaving me without? Nah, that makes her sound like a lush. I think for a second. Or does it make me sound like a lush?

"Don't feel bad. I'm not sure two bottles will be enough." She walks into her bedroom. "Let me wash the musty sheets and quilt, then we can head to the market."

I watch as Sarah happily strips the sheets from her bed and puts the sheets in the washer and airs the quilt out on the clothesline. Her hair is blond with large curls, her eyes are crystal blue, her eyelashes are thick and curly, and her skin is pale and flawless. She looks radiant.

"You never said what brings you down here today."

She starts the washer and looks over at me. "You remember my boyfriend Slade, don't you?"

"How can I forget?" She went on and on about how perfect he was, how he couldn't do any wrong, and how I needed to find a man just like him.

"Yeah, well, he cheated on me."

"What?" Did I hear her right?

"Yeah, he was sleeping with Chris while I was working." She watches my expression. "I know. It's shocking, right?"

"Yeah, it is." I know Sarah has two friends named Chris. One is a girl she lives with, and the other is a guy she went to college with. "How could she do that to you? What are you going to do for a roommate now?"

We walk out into the family room.

"Not roommate Chris, College Chris."

"What? Male Chris? Slade's gay? How did you find out?" I don't give her time to answer. My head is still trying to process this.

"Chris and I were having lunch and he must have felt guilty, because he had a come-to-Jesus moment with me." She laughs at the memory. "Jesus, I thought I was in a confessional."

"I'm speechless. I honestly don't know what to say. I'm... I'm sorry." What is a person to say about this? Better to know now than later? At least you didn't have children together?

"Don't be sorry." She walks past me toward the front door. "You ever have anal sex?" She looks at me and quickly says, "Never mind, you're my baby sister and I don't want or need to hear what you do or don't do in the bedroom. But just so you know, I tried it once, and that shit hurts." She starts laughing. "Pun definitely intended."

I laugh, too. "And you're okay with Chris and Slade being together? I'm assuming they're together." I guess it could be a one-night stand.

"Yeah, I get a little satisfaction knowing Slade's getting it in the ass every night." I can feel the smile spread across my face. My sister's brass, but I love her. "Seriously, can I tell you something?"

I can't imagine what else she wants to tell me. "Yeah, sure, anything."

"I'm gonna miss Chris." We laugh that she's going to miss her old friend but not the old boyfriend. "C'mon, I'm thirsty."

We walk hand in hand to the market. She's my older sister and it's obvious she's more experienced than I am. She's carefree and happy, even after what she's been through with Slade and Chris. She's always been easy-going for as long as I can remember. While in school, she was happy with C's as her grades, although she's anything but average. Sarah definitely takes after our mother.

I'm more reserved and worry about everything, just like our father. I strived for A's and I was disappointed if I got a B. I would never, ever openly admit to having anal sex with anyone. And one day I want to settle down and have kids. I'm definitely my father's daughter.

We walk by the church when I see Beau and his daughter locking up and leaving. He waves and smiles. "I'll be over tomorrow, Carly, if that's all right?"

"Oh, sweet baby, Jesus. Who is that big hunk of a man?" Sarah whispers so only I can hear her.

I can feel my sister looking at me.

Waving at Beau, I say, "Yeah, okay. Sounds good. It was good seeing you today."

"You, too. Have a great night."

I'm thankful when she doesn't say anything until Beau's out of earshot. "You're slick."

"What?" I say innocently.

"You know what."

"No, I don't," I say with a laugh.

"You let Gram and Pap think you needed some time alone when you're here just for a booty call."

I take her arm and pull her down the street at a faster pace. I search behind me to make sure that Beau or anyone else isn't in earshot. "Shut up. I am not here for a..." I can't even say it.

I watch her as she says, "'Yeah, okay. Sounds good. It was good seeing you today.' What in the hell was that? You were flirting with him, and I have to admit, I don't blame you."

"I was teasing you. Do you know who that is?" I ask seriously. We continue to walk further away from the church toward the market. I thought teasing my sister would be funny, but this doesn't feel right—Beau is a man of God and Sarah's talking about a booty call.

"Whoever he is, he's fine."

"That's Beau."

She searches her memory. "That's little Beauregard with the glasses?"

"He's not so little anymore."

Her voice turns sexy. "No, I guess he's not."

"Stop it. He's a man of God."

"Yeah, you're right." Her tone changes. "What's he coming over tomorrow for?"

"To fix the screen door."

"That's right. I remember Pap told me about the damage we got from the storm."

Sarah and I step on the sidewalk when a car passes by. "Beau fixed everything but the screen."

"Beau's changed. A lot." She giggles.

Her giggle is contagious. That's the gene I didn't get. I'm not nearly as giggly as my sister.

"Yeah, he has."

As we near the market she looks out into the bay. "So what else is he doing other than working at the church?"

"He's married with a daughter."

"Aw. That's too bad."

"Sarah!" I scold.

"What? I don't mean about the kid, I mean about the part where he's married. I wouldn't mind tappin' that while I'm here." She smiles brightly and I can't tell if she's serious or if she's trying to embarrass me.

At the market, Tony immediately recognizes Sarah. "Big Shorty," he says with open arms.

She rushes over and hugs him. "Tony, look at you. You look amazing."

He pulls away and watches her. "I thought Gram and Pap taught you girls better than to lie to an old man."

"They did and that's how you know it's the truth."

"Big Shorty, you're a fast thinker. I always did like that about you." He looks over at me and smiles. "I saw your sister earlier. What brings you here today?"

"Just wanted to come down and see my sister," she lies.

He looks pleased with her answer. "I don't know when the island has had both Shortys on it at the same time."

"I think it was five years ago... is that right?"

Sarah interrupts, "It was the summer you graduated, Carly."

It doesn't seem possible. "That's right. It's been five years."

Sarah smiles at a memory. "I remember your wife brought over a homemade blackberry pie for Carly's graduation party."

"Yes, you have a good memory. Maria was a wonderful cook."

Sarah looks sad. "Oh, Tony. I'm sorry about Maria's passing. I should have been here."

"No, Sarah. It's okay. People get busy with their own lives. You have no reason to apologize."

"Tony, we loved her. You guys were always like family. Sarah's right, we should have both been there for you and Beauregard."

Tony quickly wipes away a tear. "Well, you're here now and that's all that counts." He looks around the store.

Seeing the sadness in his eyes, I decide to change the subject. "I saw Beau and his daughter this evening at the church."

"What's today?" he asks.

I quickly look over at Sarah as I'm not exactly sure what the day is. "They were there for choir practice."

"It's Wednesday," Sarah confirms.

"Yes, that's right. That's old age creeping up on me. What were we talking about?" He pauses briefly. "Oh, yes, my granddaughter's one smart cookie," he said, pointing to his temple with his index finger. "Myra's my only granddaughter and they don't get much smarter than that."

"She's very sweet. I didn't know Beau was running the local church."

"Yes," he says, wiping down the counter. "He devoted his life to God after his wife left him and Myra."

Sarah and I look at each other. When neither of us knows what to say, he asks, "What can I get for you?"

"Wine?" Sarah blurts out.

"Ah, yes. I can see a celebration. Big Shorty and little Shorty are celebrating being together. Finally."

"Yes, we are. It's been far too long."

"I have some wine." He walks over to where the alcohol is on the shelf. "I have good wine. It's not the best or the most expensive wine, but it is good wine. For what you want it for, it'll do perfectly."

"Thank you, Tony. This will be fine." I take two bottles from the shelf before Sarah reaches behind me and takes the last two. I throw her a look when Tony isn't looking.

"What? I'm old enough and I'm celebrating."

I'm embarrassed since I was just here earlier and bought two bottles. Will he think we're alcoholics? Maybe he won't remember that I already bought wine earlier. If he mentions it, I'll just say, "I'm a wine enthusiast." It sounds better than anything else associated with alcohol. Drunk, tipsy, tanked, or stoned. Or fat. A 750ml bottle of wine has about five 5-ounce servings. Assuming 125 calories per serving, that's about 650 calories per bottle. Or especially, "I'm an alcoholic." I like the way "wine enthusiast" sounds.

Tony didn't take my money earlier when I bought groceries, but I notice he rings up the wine. I'm guessing Pap said he'll pay for everything but alcohol and cigarettes. Wait. I bought wine earlier, so maybe he said he'll pay for wine with a food purchase. Lucky for me, we don't smoke and I brought money to pay for my own wine. Sarah pays for this wine and we bid farewell to Tony.

Tony hums the song "Celebration" by Kool and the Gang as we walk outside. Sarah starts to move her ass to the tune. That's also the gene I didn't get.

As soon as we're outside, I turn to look at her. "What in the hell?"

"What?"

"You bought all the wine he had on the shelf."

"So. He had only four bottles."

"And you were shaking your ass while he was humming."

"So, I like to dance."

"Now he's going to think we're alcoholics and strippers."

"Are you?"

"No."

"Then stop worrying about what people think about you. Chill out and relax." She carries two bottles of wine while I carry the other two bottles as she walks down by the water, leaving me to my thoughts.

Chill out and relax? I wish I could. I want to yell at her and tell her that gene skipped over me. I follow her and watch as she sets the bag of wine down and walks along the water's edge searching for something.

"What are you looking for?"

She bends down and picks something up. "Sea glass."

I search my memory hoping a memory surfaces. "Sea glass. I forget about that. I saw a vendor selling jewelry today made from it, but I forgot it's so readily available on the island."

I wade out into the water next to her. "Isn't it beautiful?" She hands me a piece of pale blue sea glass. Sea glass is broken glass in the sea that's been churned naturally by the waves until the rough edges of glass are smooth and have a frosted appearance. "Don't you remember Mom and Gram always brought us here to look for it?"

"I do, but I forgot about that." I bend down and pick up a larger white piece. "Whatever happened to the jewelry we made with the glass we found?"

"I don't know. But you know Gram and Mom, it's in that house somewhere."

"You're probably right. They don't throw anything away." Taking a cleansing breath, I say, "Did you hear when Tony said Beau's wife left Myra and him?"

"Yeah, I did. It's crazy, right? How could someone walk away and leave her husband and child behind?"

"I don't know."

When we get home, I make my bed while Sarah dries her sheets and washes her quilt. We change into our pajamas before taking the wine out to the pool. Sarah wears a long-sleeve tee with a gray pair of shorts. Even dressed in her pajamas, she's gorgeous.

She opens the wine and hands me a glass. "This is the life, isn't it?"

I think back on the events that led Sarah here today. "Do you really believe that?"

She pours herself a glass and takes a sip. "Yes, of course." She holds her glass up indicating a toast. "Here's to my favorite sister in the world."

"Cheers. But just so you know, I'm your only sister."

"I know, but if I had others, you'd still be my all-time favorite."

"Thank you, Sarah." I take a small sip. "Do you really feel like you're living the life?"

"Absolutely."

I dip my red painted toenails into the water. I hate to remind her, but I have to know how she can feel like that. "Even after what happened to you?"

"You mean with Slade and Chris?"

"Yeah. You were with Slade for what? Almost two years? Didn't you love him?" I think for a minute. "And what about Chris? He was your friend. Don't you feel wronged by him?"

"No, I don't."

"I just left Spencer and I feel sad and lonely. Even though it was my choice."

"Guys and friends, they come and go; they breeze in and out of your life. But family? They stick together no matter what." She takes another drink. "I can always find another Chris or Slade, but no matter how hard I look, I'll never find another sister, or mother, or father. And as you know, Pap and Gram can never be replaced by anyone."

I look up at the stars. How did my sister get the looks, brains, and the common sense? That's also the gene I didn't get. She is the total package. "You know, Chris and Slade are idiots."

"I know, right."

After the first bottle of wine, my lips start to feel numb. I watch as my sister opens the second bottle and fills my glass.

She sits beside me and slides her feet into the water. "Mom told me about you and Spencer. I'm sorry you weren't happy with him."

"It's okay. He wasn't right for me."

"It was his snorting, wasn't it?" We both laugh and she continues, "It drove me crazy about him. Every time he did it, I always looked around to see if a warthog was going to charge us."

"I know, right. He also popped his gum."

"He was a gum chewer, too?"

"He was. Always chewing and popping his gum."

"When did he have time to snort?" she laughs.

"I guess it was right after he left the cap off the toothpaste."

"I hate that."

She says, "You know, I'm not perfect either."

"None of us is, but we don't snort and pop our gum all day every day." I can't help but laugh. It must be drunken logic; either that, or I feel better laughing at him.

"Did you know I cheated on a test in college?"

"Yeah, I knew that. Mom was pissed."

"She was more pissed when she found out you lost your virginity on prom night."

"It was my senior year and I was nearly eighteen." I look over at my sister. "You could have saved me on that one."

"By telling her I lost my virginity earlier than that? No way." She takes a drink of her wine. "I think I should send Slade a gift box."

I focus my eyes. Even drunk, I know that's not a question. "What would you put in it?"

She pours the rest into my empty wine glass.

"Some triple antibiotic ointment, gauze, maybe some condoms. Lube."

I don't know if she's serious or not, but I get a great idea. "Oh, you should send him a subscription to one of those gay magazines." I take another drink. "On second thought, he doesn't deserve it. Save your money and buy yourself something nice."

"You mean like a breakup gift?"

I look at her and she looks fuzzy. "That's exactly what I mean." I stand and stagger into the house.

"That's a great idea. You should, too."

"I think I will." I don't understand why anyone would cheat on my sister. "So why do you think Chris and Slade started seeing each other?"

"Slade asked me once if I ever kissed a girl before."

"And you told him you never have?"

"No, I told him I did."

"Oh." This is new to me. The song "I Kissed a Girl" by Katy Perry comes to mind. I start humming it and we both crack up laughing.

"Do I need to ask how it was?"

"It was nice," she admits.

I lean over and kiss my sister. "I love you, but I'm drunk and I need to get to bed."

"Good night. I love you, too."

Sarah

I watch as my drunken sister staggers into the house. The good timing was purely a coincidence when I called Gram and Pap to see if I could stay in the beach house while I sort through my feelings and get away from the hustle of my crazy life back home. I was so happy when they told me that Carly was also here sorting through some personal stuff.

I never liked Spencer and knew she could do better. But I also don't like seeing my sister hurting, even if the breakup was her idea.

Looking into the beach house, I decide I should also turn in.

***

I wake up at the ass-crack of dawn the next morning. Living in the city, this is my norm, but I was hoping island-life would kick in and I'd sleep in. No such luck. I dress and set out for my three-mile run before showering and having breakfast by the pool. I wish Carly would wake up so she could run with me, but it doesn't look like it'll be anytime soon.

During my run, I admire the view and the homes. The shops aren't opened yet for business and the normally busy streets are dead. This time of the morning, I imagine most of the people are just waking from their slumber. The shops and vendors don't open until ten o'clock or later.

After my shower and when the last of the mess is cleaned up from last night, I decide to walk around the property. So many happy memories flood my thoughts. Have I ever told Gram and Pap how special this place is to me? Do they know my happiest childhood memories are from the summers I spent here? I decide to call them. Looking at my phone, I shouldn't be disappointed, but I am when I don't have cell service.

I hear a truck pull up into the private driveway. It must be Beauregard. I watch as an old red and white Ford truck makes its way down the secluded driveway.

"Hey, Sarah," he says, stepping out of his truck.

Waving, I say, "Hey, Beau. I didn't realize that was you yesterday at the church. I would have spoken had I known."

"No need for an apology. I didn't know for sure if it was you either." As I close the distance between us, he says, "I want to get started on the screen door. Is this a good time?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

He looks around the large yard. "Is Carly here? I don't want to disturb her if she's working."

She's sleeping, but I don't tell him that. "It's okay, she's in the house," I decide to say. He's a man of God and I don't want to lie to him. That's never a good way to start your day, or end it for that matter.

He puts on his tool belt and walks up to the front porch. I can't help but admire his extremely good looks and physique. In all my years, I never knew a pastor, preacher, priest, clergy, or any other man of God to look so incredibly sexy. I cover my ears with my hands hoping the images will leave my head. Closing my eyes tightly, I try to think of something else... anything else. When that doesn't work, I decide I need a change of scenery. I definitely shouldn't be having these thoughts of someone so close to Jesus. He — both Jesus and Beau — unquestionably wouldn't approve.

While I am sitting by the pool and reading a book, Carly walks out of the house. She looks like death. Her brunette hair is matted and her eyes are bloodshot. She's definitely hung over. Even looking like death, her body is to die for. She has lean, long arms and legs, flawless skin, and beautiful, long naturally curly hair.

"How do you feel?"

"How do I look?" she asks, squinting her eyes. Her mascara is smudged beneath both eyes.

"You should have some coffee." I kick a chair out for her to sit on.

"That bad, huh?"

She sits beside me in the shade. I toss her my sunglasses thinking it'll help her with her headache and the squinting.

She puts them on. "Thanks."

I pour her a cup of coffee from the carafe sitting on the table. "This might help you."

"Thanks. What time is it?"

"Ten." Suddenly, I remember Beau's on the property. This might be something she should be aware of. "I have something to tell you."

She slowly turns her head in my direction. The sunglasses are dark and I can't tell if her eyes are opened or closed. "Please don't tell me I made an ass out of myself last night."

Just as I'm about to tell her about Beau, he walks around the corner. "I just wanted to tell you the screen door's fixed."

I watch in my peripheral vision as she sinks lower into the chair. She slowly picks up the book I was reading and lifts it to her face trying to hide behind it.

"Thank you, Beau. I appreciate it."

"Oh, you're more than welcome."

He walks closer to the pool as Carly kicks me beneath the table. "Ouch," I mumble beneath my breath.

"I'll call your Pap later and tell him it's fixed."

"Okay, Beau. Thank you again for everything."

He looks at Carly and thinks a moment before saying, "Good morning, Carly."

I felt bad for her until she kicked me, but now I'm feeling a little joy from Beauregard seeing her looking her absolute worse.

"Good morning, Beau."

"You feeling okay? You look a little pale."

I turn to look at my sister. Will she lie to the preacher, or will she admit she's possibly still drunk and hung over from the previous night?

"I'm not feeling well," she admits. That's not exactly a lie.

I decide to do her a favor. "Hey, Beau?" I say, sitting up straighter in my chair.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead, and I get a quick sinful thought of what I'd like to do to him. Although his tee-shirt fits, his muscular arms are bulging at the biceps. His Levi jeans are riding low on his hips from the weight of his tool belt. I quickly lift my eyes to meet his when I realize my eyes are drifting too far south.

"Would you and Myra like to join Carly and me for dinner tonight?" I ask, looking at his eyes and not his tool belt.

He adjusts his tool belt, drawing my eyes south again. Look up, Sarah.

He looks at Carly. "Are you sure you're up to it?"

Carly remains silent, hoping I'll say something on her behalf. I don't. I now focus my attention from his tool belt to my sister. I smile internally, knowing she'll do the right thing because she's a God-fearing woman.

"I'm sure whatever I have will pass by this evening."

He takes a step forward. "If you're sure."

"Perfect," I say merrily. "Is 5:00 too late for your daughter to eat dinner?"

He smiles, looking more handsome than before. "It's fine. Should we bring something? Dessert or drinks or anything?"

"Just bring yourself," I say. When I feel Carly and Beau looking at me, I get self-conscious. Did I say something wrong? I'm such an idiot. "And bring your daughter, of course."

When Beau leaves, Carly removes her sunglasses and stares me down. "I can't believe you!"

"What?"

"First of all, you couldn't tell me he was here when I literally just crawled out of bed?"

"I tried to. I told you I have something to tell you."

"I thought you were going to tell me I did something stupid last night." She squinches her eyes and holds her head in her hands. "I need something for this damn headache."

The day is spent with Carly napping and trying to sleep off her hangover while I spend my day cleaning and washing the bedding from the other bedrooms. The beach house is just that: a vacation home for the Stewart family. It hasn't had anyone here in months, maybe even a year. It makes me sad that as Carly and I get older, things change for our family. We don't vacation together in the summers like we used to, and I don't call home like I should.

"Well, I feel better," Carly says, walking out of the bedroom freshly showered.

Smiling, I say, "Good. You look beautiful."

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she walks into the kitchen. "I said better and I'm far from beautiful."

I watch as she downs a large glass of water from the faucet. "How can you drink that warm, and aren't you afraid of getting something?"

She looks at the faucet, her glass, then me. "What, you need filtered water?"

"Yeah, and you should, too." Moving my fingers quickly indicating they're moving freely on their own, I say, "There're all those organisms living in those pipes."

I watch as Carly fills the clear glass with water from the faucet before lifting it up to look through it.

"Living organisms in this water?" she asks.

"Yes, they're microscopic and you can't see them." I hide my smile as I know how this sounds.

"In this glass right here?" she repeats as she lifts the glass to her mouth.

I laugh and cover my eyes so I don't have to watch her drink the contaminated water. I might be exaggerating when I say contaminated. Carly swallows noisily, making it hard for me to ignore her.

"Okay, fine. If you want to be sick, you should drink some more of that stuff."

"You kiss a girl, but you won't drink tap water?" She walks around the kitchen counter and stands in front of me. "You don't know where her mouth's been."

"And you know where those pipes have been?" We both look back at the kitchen sink before we bust out laughing. Of course, we know where the water pipes have been. They never move. I did read once that a mouth is the dirtiest part of a person. I can't confirm or deny that. But I wonder if the author has ever seen a soiled diaper. "C'mon, we need to get to the market and pick up something for dinner."

I'm now second guessing my decision to invite Beau and his young daughter to dinner tonight. I may not act like it, but I'm a spiritual person deep down inside. I may not go to church, but it doesn't mean I don't believe there's a higher power. I believe we all have to answer to someone bigger than us one day, and I also believe knowing this makes us behave better. I usually need to ask for forgiveness for myself once a day, okay, maybe twice a day. Okay, sometimes I have to ask for forgiveness multiple times in a day. Is it my fault that those thoughts creep into my head? I'm young and I have needs, dammit! And now I need to ask for forgiveness for thinking the word "dammit."

We go to the store and refrain from buying wine since Tony's still here working and he obviously didn't get around to restocking the shelves from when we were here yesterday. I wonder whether he stocks weekly and we have already consumed his weekly supply of alcohol for the entire island. That would be embarrassing.

We buy only items needed for dinner before heading home to get ready.

***

Carly walks out of the bedroom wearing a white and pink floral summer dress and white strappy sandals; her long brown hair is in a high curly ponytail. She's wearing mascara with a touch of clear lip gloss.

"Wow!" I say, "You look amazing. That right there is going to turn heads."

"Beau's and Myra's? Or do you mean Myra's head and your head? Is it too much?"

"No, not at all." She closes the distance between us as she smooths her hands down her flat stomach. "I don't want to turn heads."

"I hate to tell you, but no matter what you wear, you'll always be turning heads."

"Thank you, but should I change?"

"No, not at all."

She looks at me with approval. I decided on a navy and white dress, navy heels, and a pair of studded earrings. My long blonde hair is let down in big curls. I thought it looked nautical and fit the island atmosphere. I decide to turn around to give her the full view.

"Nice. Not too revealing, conservative." Carly nods her head. "I definitely approve of that for dinner with the preacher and his daughter."

"Should I change? I wasn't going for conservative."

She laughs at my comment while pointing her finger at me. "That's the gene I didn't get."

Confused I ask, "What gene are you talking about?"

"That gene, the funny gene, the sexy gene, the beautiful gene. You take after Mom and all of her amazing qualities."

Although I do look like our mother, Carly takes after our father's side of the family. "You think I got all the good genes?" I'm ready to tell her what I didn't get and why it's not so great.

"I know you did. Look at you. You're stunning, funny, carefree, loving..."

"I have oily skin, I burn easily, I'm short, and I had to get braces and wear them all through high school. Twice."

"That's because you wouldn't wear your retainer. But now you have a perfect smile."

"And I have to wear a nasty retainer for the rest of my life. That's not so easy to do when you're... well, never mind." I was not about to finish that sentence. She's my baby sister and she doesn't need to know everything about me. But I do have two retainers: one for home and one in my purse for those unexpected sleepovers.

She walks over and hugs me. "I love you and I think you're amazing."

"I love you, too."

"And for the record, you did get the good genes." Before I can say anything, she adds, "I thought we could eat out on the patio by the pool."

"I think that's a great idea."

"Good, I'll set the table." I watch as she saunters over to the antique China cabinet. "Have you given much thought about tonight?"

"We invited guests for dinner, we bought food, we cooked, and I dressed up for our guests. Yeah, I think I put a lot of thought into it."

"Well, the staging area certainly looks inviting."

I open the oven door and check on the roast. I'm not sure where's she headed with his. "What else needs done?"

"How are you going to control your colorful language through dinner? I mean we have a preacher and his very young daughter coming."

"My mouth? What about yours?" How dare she insinuate I'm the crass one. "Jesus Christ, do you really think I can't control what I say for an hour or two? Besides, I don't cuss that much."

I watch as Carly walks over to the junk drawer. "I'm just going to tape your mouth shut now."

When I realize what I just said, I let my head fall back. "I know I have a problem. What am I going to do?"

We both look outside as a car drives down the driveway. "We have about two minutes to figure it out. I prayed, so I'm good."

I watch as Carly goes off to set the outside table while I also say a silent prayer. If this dinner turns into a disaster because I can't control what I say while in good company, Pap won't be happy with me. Neither will Gram or Mom.

I walk to the patio and ask Carly, "You get the door while I do this?"

"Is that your plan?" she asks. "To just ignore them while they're here?"

"No, of course not. I'm just going to try to be occupied with other things until they're gone."

Carly

I've said enough prayers for the both of us today. I love my sister, but I also know how her mouth can get out of control. I just hope her choice of words this evening won't consist of just blue words when she has the choice of all the other colors in a 120-pack box of Crayola crayons. As I walk to the door, I think I would have been better off taping her mouth shut. Maybe my mouth, too.

I touch my hair and smooth out my dress before opening the door. My heart beats a little faster than normal when I see Beau standing outside of his car. That man is too good looking to be a preacher. I wonder if God will judge me on my thoughts alone? Let's hope not. Let's hope God grades on a curve.

Walking out onto the porch, I give a friendly wave. Myra gets out of the car; her hair is in a little ponytail and she's wearing a sundress with flip-flops. Beau is wearing a white linen shirt with Khaki shorts and tan sandals.

Myra waits for her dad as he gets something out of the front seat. She's too big for a diaper bag so maybe he's getting her some toys to play with while they're here. I suddenly realize that Sarah and I should have thought about getting something to entertain Myra with. Games, coloring books, and crayons. Do people still entertain kids with cartoons? Let's hope so.

He closes the car door holding a bouquet of summer lilies and something in a bag. Dessert? Toys?

"Oh, look," Sarah says, looking over my shoulder. "He brought a change of clothes."

I look over my shoulder at her and line my brows. "What are you talking about?"

"You know, for when he stays the night tonight." She waves before walking away and leaving me there to greet our guests.

"Thank you for having us," Beau says, walking up the four steps leading to the porch. "I wasn't sure what to bring, so I brought flowers and dessert."

"You didn't have to bring anything, but thank you." I take them from him and look into the bag after smelling the flowers. "These are beautiful and you brought cookies." The flowers are stunning, but I'm a bit confused about his choice of desserts.

"They're my favorite," Myra says.

That explains it. "They're my favorite, too. Please, come in."

I open the door wide for them. Myra walks in first as Beau holds the door open for me. "After you."

I look at him, and I'm surprised by the goosebumps covering my arms. Great, I hope he doesn't notice them. I can't remember the last time someone held the door open for me. "Thank you."

Sarah's standing behind me in the kitchen opening a bottle of wine. She must have forgotten about Beau and his occupation and our young guest. I never worried about my sister embarrassing me until this evening. We've known Beau and his family our entire life. But people change and we are obviously not the children we were back then. He hasn't always been a preacher so he's heard colorful language and he's probably had wine from time to time.

"Let me put these flowers in water and these cookies on a platter." I reach for a vase in the cabinet. "Can I get you two something to drink? Water, milk, juice?"

"We also have wine," Sarah says with her back to us.

Beau looks down at his daughter. "Myra, do want some water?"

"No, Daddy."

"We're fine, thank you."

As I fill the vase with water, I wonder if I should offer to turn the TV on and find some sort of cartoons. The music's on low and playing through the surround sound. "Sarah and I thought we could have dinner outside this evening. I hope that's all right."

"It sounds wonderful, but I heard on the radio on the way over here that it's supposed to rain this evening."

I lean up and look outside through the open patio door. There's a light breeze blowing, but clear blue skies. "Hopefully it'll hold off until after dinner." I chastise myself for not checking the weather forecast for tonight.

Sarah turns around while taking a big gulp of her wine. When she sees Beau, she looks shocked. I think it just dawned on her that he probably doesn't drink and she probably shouldn't drink either. I guess I need to worry about more than just her language tonight.

He looks down at his daughter. "Myra, you want to go outside and see the pool?"

I watch as he walks outside with his daughter.

She dumps her wine down the sink. "I do believe that's the first time I made a man leave the room."

I pick up the vase of flowers and carry them outside to place in the center of the table. "You're going to hell for that," I say over my shoulder.

We have dinner outside and I'm pleasantly surprised when Sarah behaves herself. She even remembered to wait for Beau to say grace before we eat. While at the market earlier today, we asked Tony what Beau and Myra liked and didn't like. We needed to be sure they weren't vegans or had any food allergies. Tony also informed us that Myra loved hotdogs and macaroni and cheese.

When Myra saw she had her own special meal, she was thrilled. Dinner was going well until it started to rain. With little warning, the clouds opened up and the rain came down in bucket loads. We barely had enough time to get inside. We all stood at the doorway of the kitchen and watched as the rain extinguished the candles and filled our plates with puddles of rainwater.

There was nothing else to do but laugh as we watched our dinner become soggy. It took only one person to laugh before everyone was laughing.

"I didn't see that coming," I admit. Beau stands beside me as he clears his throat repeatedly. He looks smugly down at me. "Okay, I might recall someone saying something about a possibility of a few showers sometime this evening." I try to hide my smile but I fail.

"Is that what you heard?" Beau says with a perfectly arched brow.

Sarah walks down the hallway and tosses us a few towels. I bend down and start to dry off Myra. "I'm sorry about you getting your pretty dress all wet."

"It's okay."

Beau picks up his cell phone and asks, "What do you want on your pizza?"

"Daddy, I like cheese pizza."

Sarah yells from the other room. "Whatever is fine with me." Beau looks down at me as I dry Myra's hair. "No onions, or olives, or peppers. I hate ham, but get extra cheese," Sarah adds.

Beau's still waiting for my reply. "I'll eat anything."

"Is cheese and pepperoni okay?" he whispers.

"Yeah, that's good," Sarah yells from the other room.

Laughing, I nod my head.

"Okay," he says loud enough for Sarah to hear. I have no idea how she heard him say any of that.

He walks away and calls to place a pizza order.

"Do you like cartoons?"

"Yay. I love them."

"Good, let's get you a blanket and we'll see what's on TV."

I set Myra on the couch and cover her with a blanket before flicking through the hundreds of useless stations. Finally, I find some kid-friendly shows, or so I think. I soon realize how violent cartoons can be. I cringe as I watch some of them.

"Daddy lets me watch Veggie Tales." She waits patiently until I find it. "That's it."

I put the channel to memory in case they ever come back. "Are you warm enough?" She nods her head never looking away from the dancing celery. "I'll be right back. I'm going to change. Okay?"

"Okay."

Sarah walks down the hallway wearing sweats and a tee-shirt.

"Beau's ordering pizza, Myra's watching cartoons, and I'm going to change. Please watch her until I get back."

"Okay. I'm really sorry about this evening. I was hoping it would go better than it is."

"Don't be sorry. We didn't know the skies would open and we'd have a downpour in the middle of dinner."

"Maybe next time we should listen to our guests."

"Duly noted."

I quickly change and wonder what else could go wrong.

I decide on a pair of black yoga pants and an oversized pink sweatshirt. My hair is still slightly damp, so I decide to leave it in the ponytail. I just hope it doesn't frizz too much. I tried to look nice and girly, and look where that got me.

Myra falls asleep before the pizza arrives. I feel bad, but I'm thankful that she at least got to eat most of her dinner. Beau, Sarah, and I sit at the dining room table enjoying the pizza and each other's company.

"Beau, to be honest, I'm not sure how to act around you."

I glare at Sarah for even saying such a thing.

"Because of my position in the church?" he asks.

"Exactly. I've been afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing all evening."

He leans up in his chair. "We've known each other a long time; I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." He runs his index finger across his bottom lip. "Is there something you want to do that you think I'll frown upon?"

I hold my breath waiting for her to reply. I have no idea what she'll say, as anything could fly out of her mouth.

"It's not bad and I'm sure there are much worse things..."

"For God's sake, Sarah, just say it." When I realize I just said God's name in vain I want to run and hide from embarrassment. I can feel the heat rise to my face from shame.

"It's okay, Carly," he says looking at the embarrassment on my face. "What is it, Sarah?"

"I usually have wine with my dinner. Will that be offensive to you or a sin if I do?"

He tosses his head back and laughs. "I'm Italian and have you forgotten who my father is?"

"You mean he still drinks?" Sarah looks pleasantly surprised.

"Dad's the same, although I need to give him credit. He does try very hard to mind his manners while we're in church."

Sarah picks up the partially full wine bottle. "So, I won't go to hell for having wine with you here?"

"Only God knows that answer, but I'm fine with you having a glass or two."

She pours herself a full glass. "You should have become a priest so you could drink with me."

I don't know if I should laugh or feel bad for her. "Everyone should be Catholic just so they can consume alcohol." I'm hoping she'll hear what I said and maybe it'll dawn on her.

"I know, right!" she agrees.

Looking over at Beau, we both smile.

The sound of the rain on the roof becomes soothing and it doesn't sound as angry as it did. Sarah decided to have a glass of wine and I'm glad she did. She seems more relaxed and less afraid that she's going to say or do something wrong. I'm sure the wine's making her more relaxed.

"Beau, how long has it been since we saw you?"

"Dad and I were talking about this last night. He said at Carly's graduation."

"That's the last time we saw him and your mom, but I don't remember you being there."

"That's right. I wasn't there."

"Good, I thought I was going crazy."

"Rest assured, you're not. That must have been when I left the island in search of happiness."

Sarah laughs. "We all made that mistake."

Beau and I look over at Sarah. I never knew my sister to be unhappy. Ever.

"You can relate to that, Sarah?"

"Yeah, I guess I can. I think coming back to the island after being away for so long kind of lets you see things differently."

"That it does," I agree.

"Are either of you thinking of moving back?"

"Well, we never really lived here for any length of time." I take a small sip of my water. "This is our family's vacation home. We were here only for holidays and for the summers."

I remember the days we spent on the beach or just bike riding. "I wouldn't mind living here full-time," I admit for the first time.

"You can see yourself living here?" a shocked Sarah asks.

"I like it here. I could work from home and find sea glass in my spare time. Yeah, I think it might be nice living here."

"Finding sea glass is one of my favorite pastimes," Beau says, looking at me. "I'll have to show you where I go on the island to find sea glass."

"Okay, I'd like that."

Beau looks away from me to Sarah. "What about you?"

"Nope. I'm not ready to be isolated from the world yet. There's still things I want to see and do before I commit to living on Seashell Island full-time."

"My dad always said salt life wasn't for everyone."

I sense sadness in Beau's tone. What does he mean by that? Is he talking about Myra's mom? I remember Tony telling Sarah and me that she left Beau and Myra. How could anyone walk out of a child's life?

"So, what made you become a preacher?" Sarah asks, refilling her glass of wine.

"I was always spiritual but I was never really religious. Then something happened to cause me to question my faith."

"When your mother died?" I blurt out. I cover my mouth with my hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

"It's okay, no apologies are needed. I have no secrets, and yes, you're right. Mom suffered an agonizing death and I wondered if there was a God why He would allow something like that to happen to her." He looks over at his sleeping daughter. "As hard as it was for Dad and me to watch, she had it a hundred times worse."

"Beau, we're so sorry we weren't there for her funeral." Sarah reaches up and takes his hand. I wish I was comfortable enough to do that. "We feel terrible for not taking the time to be there for you and Tony," Sarah says openly and truthfully.

"To be honest, I have no idea who was there and who wasn't. I was in my own personal hell." That night and many nights after, I prayed to God and sometimes I even yelled at Him to prove to me He was real."

"I don't understand?" How can God prove He's real?

"Shortly afterward, my wife found out she was pregnant."
Chapter Three

Carly

Beau leaves with his daughter as soon as the rain stops. I still have goosebumps from his story.

"Why do you think his wife left him?" Sarah asks as she carries in some of the dishes from the patio.

"I don't know, but I wasn't about to ask."

I stand at the kitchen counter putting away the food. "Do you remember he said something about his dad saying salt life wasn't for everyone?"

"Yeah, he also said he left the island to find happiness." I put the food in the refrigerator and start wiping off the counter. "Maybe she was on drugs."

"Anything's possible." Sarah locks up the patio door. "Wine?" she asks, holding up the nearly empty bottle.

"Yeah, thanks." She walks over and hands me the bottle as she walks into the family room. What, no glass? I decide to drink it from the bottle. It won't be the first time. I am quite the wine enthusiast.

"Are you really thinking about moving here?" I take the wine bottle with me and follow her to the white slipcovered couch. "Don't spill that, you know how Gram is."

Gram would be pissed if I spilled the red wine on her new slipcovered couch. "I don't have anything in New York to keep me there."

"Where's all your stuff, in storage?"

"Yeah. I called a moving company to pack up my things while Spencer was at work. They're storing it for me until I decide what to do with my life."

"You could always come and stay with me."

I never even considered staying with my sister. "Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather eat raw snails than live with you."

She tosses a pillow at me, and I almost drop the wine bottle. The wine's mostly gone, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't take much of the red wine to ruin the entire couch.

"You don't think you'll fit in?"

"Let me see." I tilt the bottle back and swallow what's left of it. "You're nearly a lesbian. Your boyfriend's getting hammered in his ass by your male best friend, and although I'm fine with all that, I just don't see how I would fit into that lifestyle."

Sarah and I both bust out laughing. "Just because I kissed a girl doesn't make me a lesbian. I like dick just as much as the next gal."

"Or guy," I tease.

She tosses another pillow and says, "Man, my lifestyle sounds bad. I think I need Jesus."

"Do ya think?" Picking up both pillows, I ask, "How long are you planning on staying here?"

"I told Gram and Pap I would be here for a few days. What about you?"

"A couple weeks, a month maybe."

"Then what will you do?" Sarah props her feet up on the chair and covers herself with the same blanket that Myra used.

"Maybe buy a bungalow near the water?"

"No plans of returning to the Big Apple?"

"I don't think so." I think about how quickly I left. "I think I should call Spencer and talk to him."

"Why?"

"Because I kind of just up and left. I didn't even give him back his engagement ring."

"Who cares?"

"I do. He probably does. It just seems like the right thing to do."

She thinks for a minute before changing the subject. "I think you should try talking to Beau. You two looked nice together tonight at dinner."

"Oh, no. I just got out of a relationship. I'm not about to get involved in another one."

"Yeah, you're right."

Sarah never agrees with me so easily. "I am?"

"Absolutely, we need to find out why his wife left him first." She stands and folds the throw she was covered with and puts it back into the hand-woven basket Gram bought from one of the local shops on the island. "Maybe he's a jerk in disguise."

"I doubt it."

"Me, too. He seems like a great guy." I silently agree. "I'm heading to bed. Do you want to do some shopping tomorrow and have lunch at Jo's Tiki Hut?"

"Sounds like fun. Good night, Sarah."

"Good night, Carly. Don't call that asshole. If you left him, I'm sure it was for a good reason. Even if you won't admit it."

"Yeah, because a laugh snort is a good reason."

She laughs and then snorts. "If it's annoying, it's a good reason to leave. Just remember, you have to live with that nuisance forever."

"Good point. Good night, Sarah."

Sarah goes to bed and I walk outside inhaling the fresh smell of rain. I stand on the wet patio debating whether to call Spencer. I feel bad about the way I left, even though I know leaving him was the right thing to do.

I pick up my phone, and when I see his name in my contacts I hit connect.

"Hello," a sultry voice answers.

Caught off guard, I try to sound strong and confident.

"Hello, I think I may have called you in error. I was calling Spencer Roberts." I'm hoping this is the wrong number although I know it's impossible.

"Spence, it's her," she yells from a distance, not speaking to me, but to Spencer.

With rapidly beating heart, sweaty palms, and confused brain, I wait for Spencer to come to the phone. Sarah was right. I shouldn't have called.

"Carly?"

"Yeah, it's me. I don't want to keep you, I'm just calling to make sure the movers got my stuff out of the apartment."

"Yeah, they did. They took everything on your list."

"Spencer, I'm sorry about the way things ended with us." I am sorry, but I didn't expect to tell him that.

"Spence, are you coming to bed?" I hear the sultry voice say in the background. I have to admit that hurts a little bit. We were engaged. I'm pained that he was able to move on so quickly. Did nothing we had mean anything to him?

"Is there anything else you needed, Carly?"

"No, that was it."

"Hey, before I hang up, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind returning that engagement ring back to me since you're the one who called it off and all?"

More hurt than shocked, I say, "I'll have it in the mail to you tomorrow."

I disconnect the call before he can reply. Walking the short distance to the bay, I welcome the tears. I'm not sure when I last cried and I'm not sure why I'm crying now. Maybe it's because I was so easily replaced. My family has always made me feel like I was special and one of a kind. I guess this proves them wrong. It took less than a week for Spencer to move on and find a replacement for me. I take my cellphone and remove the engagement ring from my finger and toss them both into the ocean. I'll be damned if he gives my engagement ring to some bim-bam-blam-wham-bam-thank-you-ma'm-bo, or for short, bimbo.

I'm tempted to send him a ring from a Cracker Jack box, but I'll just put him out of my life.

The next morning Sarah and I are both up before dawn.

"I was just going for a run. Do you want to come with me?"

I look at my sister in her spandex black sports bra, pants, and tennis shoes. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a high ponytail.

"Did you put makeup on?" I ask in disbelief.

"No, don't be ridiculous," she says, looking away.

I walk over to her and look at her more closely. "Is that fresh eyeliner?" She did put makeup on.

"Okay, I just touched it up a little. It's waterproof. It's made for an intensive workout," she lies.

"That's not what waterproof makeup is for." I look at her more closely. She's stunning. "Why are you all done up for a run on the beach?"

"It's just eyeliner, I swear." She bends over and ties her shoe. "Have you seen Beau?" She doesn't wait for me to reply. "I'm pretty sure there's more where that hunk of a man came from."

"You're looking for a man?"

"Not looking but you never know when you might meet someone." She stands up and stretches. "You coming or not?"

I think about what she says. I'm single. Although I'm not looking, maybe Mr. Right is on this island. "Hell yeah, I'm coming. Let me get ready."

I dress in my finest running gear that I brought with me, apply some lip gloss and waterproof eyeliner, and pull my hair back—and I still look like I just rolled out of bed. I walk out to meet my sister. She's leaning against the kitchen counter hydrating with water. She's stunning and toned, and she has a beautiful soul.

"That's also the gene I didn't get."

She stands up and looks at me. "What are you talking about? You look amazing."

"Oh, shut up and let's go."

We both listen to music as we run along the five-mile stretch of white sandy beach. Just as she suspected, we see several other people out running or walking the long stretch of clear-blue water. It seems nearly everyone on the island is fit and beautiful. I slow down and we walk the last mile home.

"Did you call Dickwad last night?"

"Spencer?" I clarify.

"Yeah, Dickwad Spencer."

"I did."

"And?"

"A woman answered his cellphone."

"No way," she says in disbelief.

"He asked for his ring back after I heard her ask him if he was coming to bed."

"I hope you're kidding, but I can see in your eyes you're not."

"I'll be all right. I'm just surprised to see I'm that easy to replace."

"You're not and he's a freaking idiot."

I look over with a smile. "He is, isn't he?"

"You bet your ass he is."

"Come on. I'll race you home."

Once we shower and dress, we head out to do some shopping. We have lunch at Jo's Tiki Hut on Pelican Way before we make our way down the tree-lined main street also known as Shell Lane.

"I'm so glad you're here with me." I look at my sister's sunglasses, which are now being used as a hair band to pull her hair from her face. Does she have any idea how stunning she is?

"Me, too. I've missed you."

"How much longer are you staying?"

"I'm heading home this evening."

I look at my sister in disbelief. "Why?" She looks beautiful in her yellow off-the-shoulder blouse and white shorts.

"I don't want to."

"Then you should stay here with me."

"I can't. I have a job that I need to get back to. You know they frown on people for taking days off when they don't have vacation time in the bank." She smiles brightly. "Oh, wait. Being self-employed, you wouldn't know anything about that."

I roll my eyes. "I wasn't always self-employed. I hate that. I knew you couldn't stay, but I didn't realize you'd be leaving so soon."

"I wish I could stay longer."

"Me, too."

"You'll still be here next weekend, right?"

"I have nowhere else to go." Suddenly I feel sad.

"Don't say that. Honestly, you can come and stay with me."

"I know and I thank you, but I'm going to stay here and try to figure out what I'm going to do first."

"I understand. I'll be back on Friday to spend the weekend with you."

"I'm gonna hold you to it."

We shop and as soon as we get back to the beach house, Sarah gets her things ready to leave. "Get some writing done. I'll call you later, but I'll be back on Friday."

"I threw my phone in the ocean last night."

"Why would you do that?" Before I can answer, she moves forward to the next question. "How are we supposed to get ahold of you?"

Smiling, I say, "I guess I'll see you on Friday, so I'll just talk to you then."

She tosses her bag into her red convertible. "Seriously. Do you want me to leave you my phone? I can get another one when I get back home."

"Nope, I'm fine."

"I don't know, Carly. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Sarah, I'm fine. I can use some peace and quiet."

"Okay. I'm sure you can. If you need me, go up to the church and call me, or go to the market and tell Tony you need to use the phone."

"I will. Be careful and hurry back."

Once she's gone, I get Mean Mac and sit outside by the pool. Inhaling deeply, I begin the first chapter of my next book.

I'm not sure how much time passes before I stop working. It feels good to get back to doing what I love. Although this book contains a lot of my own personal life, I'm determined to give the heroine a happily-ever-after.

After deciding there's nothing in the house to eat, I walk the short distance to the pizza shop down the road. I sit at the small two-top table in the corner of the room. While I wait for my wine and salad, I pretend to busy myself looking over the plastic menu. Now I remember why I don't like eating out alone. I look as pathetic as I feel.

"Is Sarah joining you this evening?"

I look up and see Beau and Myra standing at my table. Placing the small menu back into the salt and pepper holder, I say, "No, sadly she had to go back home today."

"I see. Myra, do you remember Miss Carly?"

"Hi, Miss Carly."

"Hi, Myra."

"Are you dining alone?"

"I am. Would you care to join me?" I'm not sure if I should have asked them or not. What if he's meeting someone here? What if this is a special occasion for him and his daughter?

The waitress brings my wine and I suddenly feel like I must look like an alcoholic. Has he ever seen me when I wasn't drinking? He must think I'm a lush.

"Yes, we would love to."

Well, maybe he likes lushes. I'm just kidding. "Okay, great. Should we move to a larger table?" I begin to stand with my wine in hand.

He gets the server's attention to get the okay to move to a larger table. Once it's approved, we all sit down.

"Have you ordered yet?" Beau asks, sitting down.

"I ordered a salad."

The waitress walks over and calls Beau by name, then says, "Hi, Myra." She doesn't wait for Myra to answer. "Beau, are you having your usual?"

"What do you think, Myra? Should we have cheese pizza and juice?"

"Okay."

"A juice for Myra and a Pepsi for me. Stephanie, can you make that a large pizza today?"

"Sure, no problem."

I interrupt. "Could you also hold off on my salad and bring it out with their meal?"

"Absolutely."

When the waitress leaves, Beau says, "I didn't expect Sarah to head back so soon."

"I didn't either. I guess that's what happens when you punch a time clock."

"I guess so." He opens a small kid sample pack of crayons for Myra that came with her kid menu. Myra begins to color. "So, I hear you're some big-time author now."

"An author, yes. But big-time, I think there's some exaggeration to that." I pick up my wine and take a drink of it. He watches me and I suddenly feel like I've just sinned. When the waitress brings their drinks, I ask for a water.

"Don't sell yourself short. I've recently Googled you and it was quite impressive."

What? Why would he Google me?

"You're quite the hype on the small island."

I lean in so no one but Beau can hear me. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. I went to help Dad at the market and your books were all sold out. Everyone in the market was talking about the famous hometown author coming back to her roots."

I don't know if I'm more embarrassed that my books are at the local market, or that people think I'm a big deal when I'm not. They would surely be disappointed when they realize I'm just an aspiring author. Sure, I make enough to pay my bills, bank some, and live comfortably, but I'm far from being a rock star.

"My books are on the shelves at your dad's market?"

"Were. They were, but they're sold out."

"I'm blaming Pap for this."

"Why are you embarrassed over your success?"

"I'm not embarrassed. I'm just me. I'm nothing great or a big deal. I'm just Carly Stewart, who happens to write books that people like to read."

He nods his understanding. "I wouldn't blame only your Pap as I know for a fact Dad has something to do with this."

Our food comes and Beau says grace before we eat. I'm thankful when I remember to wait. I guess it isn't only Sarah I need to worry about. I watch as Beau is attentive to his daughter's needs. He makes sure her pizza is cut into small enough pieces for her to eat without difficulty.

Once she's eating, I ask, "How old's your daughter?"

"She just turned three."

I want to ask how long he's been a single dad, but I think that's a bit intrusive and frankly, it's none of my business.

We eat in silence through most of the meal.

"How's the woman who runs the childcare at the church?"

"Sadly, she'll be taking some time off. Miss Jean is an older woman, and it seems she sprang her ankle."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thank you. So was I."

I get an idea, but I don't know if I should say anything since I'm indecisive about how long I'll be on the island.

"We're currently searching for someone to run the childcare on Wednesday nights during choir practice until she's well enough to return."

"I like Miss Jean, Daddy."

"I do, too, Cookie."

"Cookie?"

"Yeah, she loves cookies. My dad nicknamed her that early on."

Nodding, I say, "Are you looking for someone only on Wednesday?"

"We are. The choir is good enough that I think they don't need to practice, but I guess they sound as good as they do because they do practice. Still, I guess missing a few weeks won't hurt them."

"I'll be on the island for a couple more weeks, and I'll gladly fill in while I'm here."

"Carly, that would be wonderful. Are you sure?"

"I am. I enjoyed listening to them practice and maybe Myra can help me with little Jimmy."

Myra looks up and says, "Jimmy can't have no paint and sometimes he eats the glue and markers."

Beau looks surprised. "Jimmy's eating glue and markers?"

"Yeah, Daddy. I told him it's bad."

"Maybe you should try and feed them their snacks first."

Beau looks at me with a smile. "That's something we never tried before."

After dinner, Beau pays for our meal and takes the rest of the pizza to go. "Myra and I are going to take the leftover pizza to Miss Jean. Do you want to come with us?"

I find him extremely attractive. Not just because of his looks but because he's also charming and doting. I should really try to keep my distance from him.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I'm going to walk down by the water and look for sea glass."

I watch as he buckles Myra into her car seat. I wave goodbye to her before he closes her door.

"Okay, have fun and we'll see you at church tomorrow."

"Thanks for dinner and I'll see you later," I say as he gets into his car and pulls off.

Did he just say he'll see me at church tomorrow? I was actually planning on sleeping in. If I didn't know better, I'd think he just set me up so I'd have to attend. Instead of looking for sea glass, I head home. Now I need to make sure I have something appropriate to wear.

As I walk I notice the breeze in the air. It's windier today than it has been; however, the skies are blue and cloudless. Doesn't look or feel like rain.

When I get home, I search my belongings for something suitable for church, but of course I don't have anything. I do have a plethora of strapless sundresses and sexy stilettos. None of these will work for a place of worship. I search my sister's closet and her wardrobe is more seductive than mine. Do I dare see what's in my mother's closet? The thought of wearing my mother's clothing doesn't sit right with me. I feel like I'm saying goodbye to my youth and all things that make me feel desirable. I might as well wear Gram's housecoat.
Chapter Four

Carly

Lucky for me I found a cute white cardigan tucked inside Mom's cedar chest. It'll go perfect with the pale-yellow sundress I plan to wear. The breeze is picking up so I decide to drive the short distance to the house of the Lord. The last thing I need is for the wind to catch under my dress and blow it over my head. A Marilyn Monroe image comes to mind. Gram and Pap wouldn't be happy to learn their granddaughter was banned from church or arrested for indecent exposure. As the image invades my thoughts, I quickly change out of my thong and into a pair of full cheek cover-up panties.

Everyone who lives on the island must be here today since every pew is full. At many churches, that happens only on Easter and Christmas. At one church a friend of mine went to, the pastor had a big nativity star by the altar on Christmas. At the beginning of his sermon, he asked his daughter, who was sitting in a front pew, "What's different about the church today from the way it is at other times?" She shouted, "It's full, Daddy!"

I decide to take a seat in the back of church until Tony sees me.

"Shorty, up here," he shouts, waving his hand.

Shyly, I wave to him and then make my way to the front of the church. Of course, he would be sitting in the front row with Myra beside him. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate attention and now I feel all eyes are on me.

"Hi, Myra and Tony," I whisper, taking a seat beside her.

"Beauregard said you'd be joining us for the next few weeks."

Tony speaks a little too loudly in my opinion for a church, but then again, he is Italian and I've never known an Italian to speak weakly.

I also never told Beau that I'd be attending church regularly during my visit. I did offer my services on Wednesday to help out with the children during choir practice. I'm beginning to see how Beau works. Before I can reply, the choir stands to sing.

Myra colors and plays quietly during the service; however, she sings loudly and well to the songs she knows. She knows how to make a joyful noise unto the Lord, although "noise" is not the word I would use to describe her singing — but I know that back when the King James Version of the Bible was being created, the word "noise" meant a harmonious sound. Also back then, a noise of musicians was a group of musicians. I can think of a few modern groups of musicians I would call noises of musicians although not in a complimentary way.

The service message this morning is that not everyone is perfect and that it's always better to try to do right than not to try at all. I can't help but feel this message is directed at me and Sarah. Maybe I shouldn't think about noises of modern musicians. It's a good service with lots of shouts of "Praise God" from the congregation.

After church Tony says, "You sit with us during the potluck."

Potluck? I didn't know about a potluck. Leaning in closer to him, I whisper, "I didn't know there was a potluck."

Ignoring my comment, he stands and takes Myra's hand. "Come on, Shorty. It's through here."

Tony speaks to everyone as he walks past them.

I didn't bring a dish to contribute to the meal, but I can already tell he won't care. I reluctantly follow everyone through the double doors leading into a separate room. The room is filled with tables and chairs, and a few of the tables are covered with food, drinks, and desserts.

"Tony, I didn't bring anything."

"No need to worry, Shorty. There's always enough food for everyone."

Even though that may be correct, I still wish I'd known so I could have contributed to the feast.

"Grandpa, I need to potty."

"Here, Tony. I'll take her if that's all right?"

"Thank you, Shorty. It's right through the door."

"C'mon, Myra."

When Myra's done, I untuck the back of her dress from her panties while she washes her hands in the kid-sized sink. That would be social suicide if that happened to a woman in public. There's no turning back after something like that occurs. You might as well pack up, move, and start all over again in a new state or possibly, a new country. Your friends would never let you live that down.

"All done," she says, drying off her hands.

When we get back to Tony, everyone's standing for the prayer. Myra and I stay at the door and wait until it's over.

"Amen," she repeats after her father.

I wasn't raised up going to church every Sunday or praying before every meal, but I was raised to be spiritual. However, we did go to church every Sunday we spent on the island and every weekend we spent with Gram and Pap. Church was part of our vacation experience. I think after my dad died, Mom may have lost faith. To lose her husband leaving her single to raise two daughters, I can understand why she would have doubts. Losing her husband would make it hard for her to believe there's a higher being and to always do good things and be kind to everyone, deserving of your kindness or not. But at what age would I have known to say "amen" after someone saying grace? Beau is definitely doing right things by his daughter.

"Myra," Beau says from across the room when he sees her searching the crowd.

"There's Daddy," she says, pointing her small finger in his direction.

We walk over to him and he watches me with kind eyes. He picks Myra up and kisses her cheek. "Daddy heard you singing. Did you like the songs the choir sang today?" he asks her.

"I did. When can I be in the choir?"

He smiles lovingly at his daughter. "When you get bigger." He puts her down and smiles at me. "It's good seeing you again."

"Thank you. I enjoyed your sermon."

"Thank you." He gives me a knowing look. "Shall we eat?"

"Beau, I'm not staying..."

"Nonsense, Shorty. I already have your plate," Tony says, lifting up two paper plates overflowing with food. "I didn't know what you wanted, so I got you a little of everything."

"What were you saying?" Beau asks with a raised brow.

"You and your father are very presumptuous." I follow Beau, Myra, and Tony to a nearby table.

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment." I tease.

"I know, but I took it as one."

Beau

It's been a long time since I've been interested in a woman. To be honest, I liked that my attention was solely on my faith and my family. But since Carly Stewart graced the island, my attention is slightly divided.

I made a conscious decision to turn my entire life to God and that will never change. I also never considered that one day I might have an interest in someone. I just need to learn how to balance everything in a way God will approve.

I've known Carly and her family my entire life, so when her Pap called to see if I could make the repairs on the beach house after the storm, I was more than happy to help out. It's a small island and that's what we do. We help one another in a time of need.

I pick Myra up and we wait until Carly and Dad sit down to eat.

"You ready to eat, Cookie?" I ask, walking with her to the buffet table.

It's a small church and the congregation decided about a year ago that since we're all together and everyone needs to eat, we all should just bring the food to church and eat together. I honestly thought it would last a month or two before people would stop coming. But to my surprise, it's still going strong. It works out well for everyone, and I know my mother would be happy if she were here to see it. The church and her faith meant everything to her. I'd like to think I made her proud by taking over the church after the last preacher left due to his declining health.

It takes a while for Myra and me to get our food. People are very articulate after church. I figure that since I've been talking during the sermon I need to give them a chance to talk now. When we finally take our seat, Dad and Carly are nearly finished with their meal.

"Sorry about that, it doesn't usually take that long."

I start to cut up Myra's food when Carly says, "Here, let me do that while you eat."

It's been a long time since someone other than Dad has helped me with my daughter. "Are you sure?"

She pushes away her nearly empty plate. "Go ahead and eat, I got this."

Dad stands and rubs his belly. I'm thankful when he doesn't unbutton his trousers. I'm afraid one day he's going to forget he's not in the privacy of his own home.

"Shorty, you want some of Mrs. Thomas' pie?"

"No, but thank you. I think I'll have to pass."

"You don't know what you're missing." He begins to walk away from us toward the dessert table. "Beauregard?"

"No, Dad. I'm fine."

"Myra, you're not going to let Grandpa eat dessert alone, are you?"

"Nope, Grandpa. I'll take a cookie."

"That's my girl. One or two?" Dad knows good and well that Myra's allowed only one cookie. "I'll get you two so you can take one home for later."

"Yay, Grandpa."

"There you go, Myra." I watch as Carly pushes Myra's plate in front of her. "Do you guys need something to drink?" she asks.

"I'll get it." I begin to stand.

"Sit, I'll get it for you."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

She smiles. "Is water okay?"

"It's fine."

Carly leaves and I look down at my daughter eating her mashed potatoes and noodles.

"She's nice, Daddy."

"Yes, she is."

After lunch and when everything's cleaned up, I ask Carly if she wants to look for sea glass with me.

"You're going now?" she asks.

"Myra and I need to change first, then we could swing by and pick you up."

"Okay. I'd love to go. Thank you."

Dad picks up Myra. "You wanna help Grandpa at the market today, Cookie?"

"Yay," she says, clapping her hands.

"Are you sure, Dad?"

"Yes. When was the last time you helped Grandpa stock the shelves, Myra?"

"Long time."

Kids are like that. An adult would rather collect sea glass, but to a kid, putting cans on shelves in a grocery store is exciting. It's like young kids ignoring expensive Christmas toys and playing with the boxes the toys came in, or the wrapping paper they were wrapped in.

"I'll bring her home when we're done." He starts to walk away and says, "Shorty, I'll see you later."

"See you later, Tony. Bye, Myra."

Suddenly, this feels like a date. With my daughter there it would just feel like an outing. I'm not sure I'm prepared for a date without my daughter, but I do know I don't want to stand here and have an internal battle with myself.

"I can take you home so you can change first, then we can go to my house so I can change. My favorite spot is just down from where Myra and I live." I try to sound more confident than I feel.

"Okay, sounds good."

"Wonderful."

We lock up the church and I follow Carly to her house. Rolling down my window, I say, "I'll wait for you out here."

"Okay, I'll hurry."

It doesn't take long when I see her walking out of her house carrying a tan beach bag. She's wearing a black coverup and I can see pink bikini straps hanging out the top of her dress.

"Temptation's all around," I mutter to myself. "If I'm lucky, she won't remove her coverup today."

"I tried to hurry," she says, climbing into the car.

"Do you have everything?" I ask before putting the car in reverse.

"I do."

I drive to the other end of the island making a right on Sea Glass Lane.

"Myra and I just live down at the roundabout."

"You live right on the water?" she asks as we drive past some of the largest homes on the island.

I point to the small beach cottage at the end of the road. "See that little white house with blue shutters? That's where we live."

"That's impressive."

"It's a nice home, but it doesn't compare to the other homes on this road."

"Why? What's wrong with it other than the size?"

"The house was a fixer-upper. I actually got it at a very good price."

We pull into the seashell-paved driveway. I feel proud as I look at what we've done with the dilapidated building. It also brings back memories of Myra's mother.

"I would love to buy a house and renovate it."

"It's work. But if you ask me, the reward is worth it." I put the car in park. "Come on in. There's not a lot to see, but I'll show you around."

The home is an open floor plan with three bedrooms and two baths, kitchen, dining room, den, and a breakfast nook. There're no curtains on the side of the house facing the sea, and the walls are all painted an eggshell color. It's light and airy with very little clutter. Simple is the lifestyle I was and still am looking for.

Once the grand tour is over, I change into a pair of black and white board shorts and a white tee.

"Ready?"

She hops off the couch. "Whenever you are." She tosses her beach bag over her shoulder.

I get two bottles of water from the fridge before we leave. Together we walk out the back door towards the deep blue.

She looks around at the surfboard, paddleboard, swingset, and the paddle boat.

"Are these your toys?"

"The paddle boat and swing set are Myra's."

"She likes going out in the boat?"

"She's a water baby; she loves anything to do with the water. Have you ever gone paddleboarding?"

"Always wanted to, but never got around to it."

"Well, now's your chance. It's a perk of living on the water."

I carry the paddleboard down to the beach since we're walking that way anyway.

"How about we look for sea glass and then we'll try the paddleboard?"

"Sounds perfect."

"It's just a short walk." We walk in silence until we come to the bend where the sandbar is. "There's a sandbar right out there and this seems to be the best place on the island to find sea gems."

"I didn't know this place existed."

"You wouldn't. You were just a little girl when you came here with your family."

"It doesn't seem like it's been that long, has it?"

Carly kicks off her shoes and sets her beach bag down in the sand, then readjusts her sunglasses as she walks to the water's edge.

"And when did you graduate?" I ask, walking with her toward the water.

She doesn't say when she graduated, but she does say, "That can't be right. Has it really been that long ago?"

I don't answer. She must have been soul searching, too.

We walk along the water's edge at low tide and she's excited as she finds sea glass in white, blues, greens, and a few pinks.

"This place is loaded."

"It's like this all the time." I pick up a large green piece and hand it to her. She excitedly places it in her baggy. "I think only the locals know about this place."

After an hour, Carly straightens up and stretches her back. "This is back-breaking work."

"It can be. Do you wanna head back and try your skills on the paddleboard?"

Her eyes dance with humor. "Are you going to judge or laugh at me?"

Smiling, I say, "Never."

"I don't have to remind you of your position in the church, do I?" she asks with a tilt of her head.

She's insinuating that I may laugh at her anyway.

"No, you don't and I'll try hard not to laugh or judge."

"That's more like it."

When we get back to the house, I ask, "Do you know how this works?"

"It's like surfing, right?"

I instantly hide my laugh. "No, you don't want waves like you would if you were surfing. With paddleboarding you want still or calm water. You stand on the board and use the paddle to maneuver around in the water."

"Okay, I can do that."

I take the paddleboard in the water while Carly slips on a pair of water shoes. I watch from the water as she removes her coverup. I look away but not until after a quick scan of her entire body in her pink bikini. This won't be good.

When she reaches me in the water, I remove my tee shirt and hand it to her. "Would you mind wearing this?"

Her eyes get big and she covers her chest up with her arms before lowering herself into the water. "Oh, My, God. I'm sorry, Beau. I wasn't thinking."

"Carly," I say calmly. "You've done nothing wrong." She looks mortified. "It's me. This shouldn't be an issue for me, but sadly, I can see it could be."

"I understand. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." She slips on the wet tee I offered her. "Better?"

"Thank you."

"I should have told you that while paddleboarders usually wear more than just a swimsuit."

"Why is that?" she asks innocently.

"You'll see."

I give her a crash course on how to get on the board and get into a standing position once she's on.

"Be prepared, you're gonna fall off," I warn.

"You sound so sure," she says, climbing onto the board.

I am. "Do you want me to steady the board for you?"

"Nope, I got it. I wouldn't want to tempt you or anything." She smiles and it makes me laugh.

Holding my hands up in surrender, I warn, "Watch the waves and make sure you're steady before standing."

I watch closely as she gets on her hands and knees before standing. I reach out to steady the board for her when a huge wave comes and knocks her off. Quickly, I reach in and help her to the surface.

She wipes the salt water from her face. "That's God paying me back for my last comment about tempting you, isn't it?"

"Quite possibly could be."

"That's what I was afraid of."

I watch as she walks toward the beach. "Are you quitting so soon?"

"No, I'm putting on a pair of shorts. I know why people wear more than just a swimsuit while doing this sport."

By the end of the day, Carly was paddleboarding on her own. I suggested that she stay near the edge of the beach and to my surprise, she does. Once the board's put away, I call Dad to see if he wants me to pick up Myra.

"She wants to spend the night if that's all right?"

"Has she had dinner?"

"We're sitting here with full bellies watching Veggie Tales."

"Sounds like fun. Can I speak to her?"

"You're on speaker phone."

"Hi, Daddy," she says sweetly.

"I hear you want to stay the night with Grandpa?"

"Yep, he said he'll bring me home in the morning."

"Okay. Have fun, Cookie."

"I will, Daddy."

Before I have a chance to tell her I love her, Dad takes me off speakerphone.

"Dad, make sure she brushes her teeth before bed and if you need me, call me."

"Go on and have a good time. Don't worry about me and Myra. I know what I'm doing."

"All right. Good night."

I disconnect the call and look at Carly. "Myra's spending the night with her grandpa. Are you up to dinner?"

"Not the way I look."

I think she looks beautiful, but I don't say that.

"I'll take you home so you can shower and change, and then I'll pick you back up in an hour or so. How's that sound?"

"Sure, an hour works for me."

I pick up my car keys as she reaches into her bag for the sea glass. "These are yours," she says, handing me a bag.

"You keep them." I walk toward the front door.

"You don't want them?" she asks, following behind me.

I nod to a hurricane glass filled with sea glass sitting on the entryway table. "No, I think we have enough."

"Wow. I guess you do. Thanks." I watch as she tucks the baggy back into her beach bag.

Carly

I quickly shower and apply extra lotion to my sunburned skin. I used sunscreen today, but I guess it wasn't enough. Since I have only an hour, I braid my hair before applying mascara and lip gloss. I admire the glow of my sun-kissed skin in the mirror. Living on the island has some advantages. Women save money on concealer, foundation, and bronzer.

I smile to myself at the day I had with Beau. My cheeks hurt and I soon realize it's from laughing so much today. I can't remember when I last laughed so much. The day turned out far better than I ever expected.

When's the last time I've done something spontaneous? I packed up and left Spencer. That was spontaneous. But what about before that? I honestly can't remember. God, that's sad.

I reach for my cellphone to call Sarah when I realize I tossed it into the Atlantic Ocean. I'll have to e-mail her later to tell her what a great time I'm having with Beau.

When I hear a car pull up, I peek outside. It's Beau. I decided to wear a long beach dress and sandals with a white-jean jacket I found in Sarah's closet.

When I open the door, Beau's already standing at the door. He's wearing tan shorts, a white linen shirt, and tan boat shoes.

He looks me up and down in appreciation. "Wow!" It's the only word he says.

Suddenly I feel a blush rising to my face. I'm thankful that I'm sunburned so I have something to blame the blush on. When's the last time someone looked at me like that? Never.

"I thought you looked beautiful when I dropped you off."

"Stop it."

"But wow. You look like that after only an hour?"

I decide to play along so I spin around slowly so he can see me from all angles.

"Carly, you look stunning."

Too embarrassed to reply, I say, "Are you ready?"

"After you."

I take a smaller beach bag and walk out the door and then secure it behind me.

"What are you hungry for?"

"What are my choices?"

"Well, let me see?" He pulls out of the driveway. "We have Jo's Tiki Hut if you want sandwiches or deep-fried seafood platters. Or we have Ferraro's if you'd like some Italian. Then there's Myra and Beauregard's Restaurant if you want the best seafood on the island."

"Seafood and not Italian, eh?"

He looks over with a smile and I'm again reminded of just how devilishly handsome he is. Devilishly? Did I say devilishly? I meant heavenly. I search out the window for a bolt of lightning. I'm sure God's going to get me sooner or later for my inner thoughts and my spoken ones, too.

"Normally, I'd say Italian, but since I have some lobsters and crab legs that need to be cooked, tonight it's only open for seafood."

"Well, that sounds promising."

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that."

When we get to his beach cottage, he tells me to relax while he starts working in the kitchen.

"What can I do to help?"

"Nothing, I have it under control."

I watch as he gracefully maneuvers around his kitchen. He pulls different items from the fridge and places them in a cooler.

"Here, let me at least set the table."

"Okay. Thank you. The paper products are in the pantry on the top shelf."

To most people, eating from plastic or paper plates wouldn't sound appealing, but for island life, this is always acceptable.

"I'm assuming you're cooking and we'll be eating outside?" I ask over my shoulder.

"We have an outside kitchen and it's the best seating in the house."

I'm not sure I believe that. His home is open and airy with many sliding glass doors and windows overlooking the large open sea. I would say any seat in this house is the best.

I gather what I think we'll need including a roll of paper towels we'll use as napkins. I forgot how casual island living is. Why have I never considered living here full-time before, and why was I so drawn to New York? Some of my best childhood memories are from my days of living here. Following Beau outside, I wonder if it's because of Beau that my thinking has changed. He's a man of God; he could never be interested in someone like me. Not that I'm a bad person, I'm just not as holy as someone he should be with.

I wipe off the plastic tablecloth and set the small table. "Do you have matches?" I ask.

"In the drawer in the kitchen."

While searching the drawer for matches, I see a snapshot of Beau and a woman. Looking around, I quickly pick up the photo and look at it. Myra's not in the picture, and I can see that Beau was much younger when the photo was taken. The woman is stunning with dark hair and skin. Maybe her nationality's Italian since she could pass for Beau's sister if he had one, or maybe even a cousin.

"Did you find them?" he calls from outside.

I quickly drop the photo as if I got caught snooping. "Found them," I say, closing the drawer and walking outside.

I light the tiki torches leading down to the water and I also light the few citronella candles he has scattered throughout the patio. Sitting down in one of the seating areas, I watch as Beau places the potatoes and corn on the cob into a large pot of boiling water on the large outdoor grill.

"I can't remember when I last had a lobster and crab boil."

He takes a seat beside me. His white linen shirt blowing against his firm body with the evening breeze. "It's lobster season, so Dad, Myra, and I have them as often as I catch them." He raises his hands.

"You caught these as in with your bare hands?"

"I did. Sometimes Dad and I will set pots or traps, but I mostly prefer to get them while I'm diving."

"That's fascinating."

"I have to admit it's kind of nice to walk out your back door and catch dinner. Of course, it isn't as easy as it sounds. Sometimes I come home with nothing, and Myra and I will have soup and sandwiches for dinner."

"It's still not a dive wasted, is it?"

He leans back into the white wicker chair and crosses his hands over his head. "No dive is ever wasted."

Beau attends to the grill while I admire the view. Occasionally, I'll look out at the big open ocean. I have to force myself to keep my eyes above the belt. My sister would be proud. Now I know I'm going to hell. God, please forgive me.

During dinner, we talk openly about what we've been doing the last several years since we last saw each other.

"I think I told you some of this before. Right out of high school, I moved to New York, started writing romance books, met a man, fell in love, left him a few years later, and here I am."

"I see. How many years did it take for all this to happen?" he jokes.

"Several. You can thank me for giving you the short version."

"And the guy just let you walk out of his life just like that?"

"He did."

"He's probably on his way to the island right now to win you back." When I don't reply he says, "You don't think so?"

"I called him a couple days ago. You know, I felt bad about the way I left and just wanted to apologize to him." He watches me as he takes a drink of his water. "A woman answered his phone."

"His sister?"

I shake my head. "He's an only child."

"His mother?"

"She's passed away."

"Ouch."

"It stung. Mom, Pap, and Gram always made me think I was a one-of-a-kind." I take a sip of my water. "I guess I'm easier to replace than even they suspected."

"If he didn't realize your value, then that's his loss."

I feel a smile form on my lips. "Thank you, Beau."

"It's best you didn't waste any more time with someone so oblivious to your beauty and kind soul, not to mention your self-worth."

He says the kindest things. Thankful for the sunburn on my face so he can't see me blush, I say, "So, what about you? What's your story?"

He cracks open a claw of the lobster. "My story's a little more complex than yours." He searches his thoughts. "Where should I start?"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want."

"I'm just not sure what parts will interest you."

I'm interested in all of it. "You said once you left the island in search of happiness. Did you find it?"

"I did, briefly. I left and that's when I met Myra's mom. She was from the city and although I believe she tried, she just couldn't adjust to the island and its relaxed atmosphere." I remember that he said island life isn't for everyone. "We married very quickly, and shortly afterward Mom was diagnosed with cancer, so Leslie and I moved back home so I could be closer to Mom and Dad."

"I know how close you were with your parents. I'm sorry."

"Thank you. While I was spending my days working and my nights with Mom trying to get her better, I wasn't spending enough time on my marriage or with my new bride."

I don't want to sound judgmental. "And she didn't understand that?"

"She didn't. She was young and I brought her to a new place where she didn't know anyone. It was hard for her to adjust."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. Mom died quickly and in a way, it was a blessing. She was suffering." He finishes his bottle of water. "I was in mourning and angry with God. My dad was depressed, my wife was miserable, and I was upset at the world." I wait quietly for him to continue. "Then Leslie told me she was pregnant and it changed my world." This conversation is far deeper than I expected. He's raising his daughter without her mother, so this story isn't over and it doesn't have a happy-ever-after. "I turned to God and decided I wanted to live my life as he would want me to. While I was preparing to be a preacher, my wife was becoming a drug addict."
Chapter Five

Beau

"NO!"

I can see the shock in her face. She places her hand over her heart.

"It was a long pregnancy. I knew in my heart I was doing what God had led me to do. I'm not perfect and God knew that, but he still led me to the church. I guess he had faith in me."

"What about Leslie?"

"She didn't want help. God knows I tried. Dad tried. Her family also tried to intervene, but she wanted no part of it. Myra was born an addict. It took more than five days for her to detox from the poisons that Leslie had fed her during her pregnancy."

Her eyes well up with tears for everything I just confessed to her. "Beau, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you." I look out into the now dark skies. "Thank God, Myra's okay now."

"Where's your wife now?"

I cringe at the word. "Ex-wife. We divorced. She moved back to the city."

"Does she see her daughter?"

"Myra was rushed to NICU right after birth and I went with my daughter. When I returned to Leslie's room, the nurses said she left against medical advice."

Carly falls back into her chair with bewilderment evident on her face. "That's so sad."

"I put my faith in God and focused on the things that I could change and improve. I couldn't help Leslie; that was made painfully clear. I prayed and stayed with my daughter until she was out of danger. A week or so later, I went to the church and explained about Leslie, and the church members were very forgiving."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sure they'd rather not have a preacher who's divorced or filing for divorce preaching the gospel on the Sabbath in the house of the Lord."

"I see your point."

"Maybe it's being an island church made them more forgiving than maybe one of those larger, fancier churches."

"Myra's fine now?"

"She's incredible. She's amazing. She's beat the odds and I'm forever grateful. If you didn't know her back story, you would never know that she's been through so much in her short life."

"I had no idea."

"I didn't mean for this conversation to take a nosedive. But no matter how you phrase things, it's still a deep and somber story." I poke my fork into a potato knowing I won't eat it.

Carly sits up straighter in her chair. "You don't feel guilty about what happened to her, do you?" Before I can answer she says, "None of that was your fault. Leslie was an adult and she knew exactly what she was doing. Sometimes you can help people and sometimes you can't. At least you knew to move forward and move on. Beau, you don't know your own worth."

I smile as she repeats my same words back to me. It feels good hearing that someone thinks I'm worth something.

"Thank you." I look at the table and then out into the night sky. "If I haven't ruined your evening, do you want to take a walk on the beach with me before I take you home?"

"You didn't ruin my evening. I'd love to walk on the beach."

I stand and offer her my hand. When she takes it, I swear I feel a charge of energy. Our eyes meet and I think she feels it, too.

We walk down the beach and stop to watch the dolphins. "Do you know what your plans are while you're here?"

"Before I do anything, I need to get another cell phone. Then I'm going to work diligently on my new novel and try to figure out what I should do with my life."

I turn to face her. "Oh, did your cell phone break?"

"It may have broken when I tossed it in the ocean along with Spencer's engagement ring, but I'm not sure."

I smile at her humor. "Lost at sea, huh."

She returns my smile. "It is now."

We take a seat at the seating area nearest the water. We talk about our childhood and how much fun we had in the summertime on the island.

"Do you think you'll ever move away from Seashell Island?" she asks.

I don't need to think about my answer. "No, I'm an islander. I had such a great childhood living here that I want Myra to experience the same."

"What is it about living here that makes it so wonderful for you?"

"Everything," I laugh. "It's casual living at its finest. It has low crime and breathtaking views."

"It's charming."

"It's also friendly and relaxed. People travel here from around the world to spend a few days in paradise, and we live here."

"You make a good point."

We stand and I hold her hand as we walk back to my house. The wind starts picking up and she hugs her jacket closer to her body.

"Let me clean up some of this mess and then I should get you home. It's getting late."

We both work together on cleaning up the table and grill.

"I just thought of something. It's Sunday. Don't you have church service tonight?"

"No, not at this church. We tried it, but we didn't get enough involvement to make it work."

"I would think one person is enough for a service."

"You're right, it would be. But Myra and I were the only ones there and I knew she didn't want to hear me preach."

Carly's eyes dance with humor. "You opened up for night service and not one person came?"

"You think that's funny?" I say with a smile.

"No, sir, I don't. Where should I put these?" she asks, changing the subject.

"I usually throw the used paper plates in the trash," I say, nodding with my chin to the kitchen trashcan. "We have service on Sunday morning and then again on Wednesday night after choir practice."

"You know, if it works for the community, that's all that counts."

"That's exactly how I feel."

Before I take her home, I search the kitchen drawer for my old cell phone. I see an old photo of Leslie and me, and I tuck it beneath the stack of miscellaneous papers in the drawer. I keep it there as a reminder of happier days.

"Here, Carly, I'm not sure if this will help you, but you're more than welcome to this." I hand her the phone still in the box, but she doesn't accept it.

"Beau, this is new. I can't take this."

I remove the slightly used phone from the box. "Just because it's in the box doesn't mean it's new."

She laughs. "That's exactly what it's supposed to mean." She takes the phone from me. "Who saves boxes of items they're using?"

"I'm not using it."

"You've used it, same difference."

I suppress my laugh. I can tell this bothers her. "Does it bother you that I save empty boxes?"

Her eyes gleam with humor. "It does and I have no idea why."

"This is good to know that I can drive you crazy later with empty boxes."

She's beautiful when she laughs.

"I know that I have issues. You don't pop your gum or snort when you laugh, do you?" she asks more seriously.

"I don't chew gum and I hope I don't snort."

"Good." She carefully looks over the phone. "This is a nice phone. Are you sure you don't need it?"

"I have one phone, and that's all I need."

"Great. Thank you. I'll call my phone provider tomorrow and get it activated."

On the drive to her house, she comments on the wind. "Does the wind always change so abruptly here?"

"I guess I haven't noticed it that much."

"You don't hear that howling out there?"

"Howling?" I laugh. "This is a summer breeze compared to the winds we get during a hurricane."

"I can't imagine."

"You've never been here for one, have you?"

"No. That must be one of the reasons that Gram and Pap use this only for a vacation home."

When I pull up to her house, I say, "Thank you for today. I had a great time."

"Thank you. I can't remember when I laughed so much."

"I do apologize for the somber moments."

"No need to apologize. It's all a part of reconnecting and getting to know each other."

"Thank you." I stare a little too long into her beautiful dark eyes. "Stay here and I'll get your door for you."

Getting out of the car, I try to get my thoughts in order. I've never been interested in anyone since I became a preacher. I'm not sure how to handle these feelings. Am I capable of dating someone and not acting on sexual thoughts or feelings? Is it a sin if I do? How would I control those feelings?

I open her car door and offer her my hand. When she takes it I feel that charge of energy again. Our eyes meet and she smiles and says, "Is it just me or did you feel that, too?"

"That's not the first time, I felt that earlier today," I say, breaking off eye contact. Still holding her hand, I walk her to the front door. The wind has picked up since we left my house.

I wait as she unlocks the door and walks inside. "Do you want to come in?"

"I do, but I need to get back."

She smiles, but I think I see disappointment on her face. I cup her small face with the palm of my hand never taking my eyes away from hers. "You're so beautiful."

I try to resist but I lean in and kiss her anyway. She tastes and smells like something sweet and delicious. Cookies, maybe? For a minute I get lost in the moment. It isn't until one or maybe both of us moans that I realize I need to stop. Slowly, because I don't want it to end, I end the kiss and pull away, not too much, just enough so our lips are no longer touching, but close enough that I can feel her warm breath and hear her labored breathing. With my eyes still closed, I gently stroke her cheek with my thumb.

"I need to go." I open my eyes slightly to find hers still closed. I lean in and kiss her quickly on the lips. "Lock up and I'll see you later," I murmur.

Her eyes flutter open. "Good night, Beau."

"Good night, Carly. I'll see you on Wednesday if not before."

Carly

I lock the door behind me and raise my fingers to my still tingly lips. Resting my head against the door, I slowly replay the kiss over in my head. Spencer never kissed me like that. Ever. I've never been kissed to the point that I never wanted it to end, until now.

Sadly, this will never work between us. He's a man of God and I'll never be able to be someone who could measure up to be with him. The church would certainly frown upon me and my girl-kissing, cussing-like-a-sailor, dirty-minded sister with an ex-boyfriend who is now gay. Gah. Can you say happily dysfunctional? Still, it doesn't mean I can't hope.

I shower, then sit with my computer, Mean Mac, ready to write. Funny that a little kiss can spark enough romance to get me in the mood... to write, that is.

I don't outline my story, I just write in hopes it takes me to someplace special. I normally write about real places, people, and situations, but in this story, I decide to make it all fictional. I don't need someone on the island reading it and thinking, Oh, she's talking about Beau. But the feelings and emotions I write about will be sparked from my feelings for him.

The words flow easily as I write about two old flames reuniting after years of being separated by race. Sadly, racism is still an ongoing issue for many people. I thought long and hard about using religion but decided against that, too. Why can't two people just fall in love and everyone be happy for them? Why are there so many factors that prevent that? Love is love, no matter who it's from. Wouldn't the world be a happier place without all the hate in the world? Just love one another no matter the race, religion, or nationality. This reminds me to not be judgmental of my sister and her kissing shenanigans.

When I hear the wind howling through the trees in the backyard, I stand to shut the French doors. I can't believe how quickly the wind picked up this evening.

I close up Mean Mac and head to bed when I realize it's just past three in the morning. It's been a long time since I've been so enthralled in a book I'm writing that I lost track of time. It may not work out for Beau and me, but my characters will certainly get their happy-ever-after... sooner or later. Sometimes I put my characters through a lot—A LOT—before the happy-ever-after.

The next morning, I wake up with a throbbing headache. It could be from lack of sleep from the heavy winds or from writing into the wee early morning hours. I know from experience it's the kind of headache that no matter how much coffee you drink, it's not enough to help.

After two cups of coffee, I decide today is a soup kind of a day. I'm glad I made myself get out of bed; otherwise, it would be a soupçon of a day. I just hope Gram and Pap have the ingredients already in the pantry. I shouldn't be surprised to find everything I need minus the onion. Although my dad died when I was just a little girl, I was told many times by Mom, Gram, and Pap that he made the best chili soup, and my family still makes it religiously on cold nights and special occasions. Since I have no plans of leaving the house today, I consider this a special occasion.

Once the chili's simmering on the stove, I shower and dress in clean sweats. Today will be a day spent writing and eating.

It isn't until after five o'clock when I remember about the cell phone Beau gave me. Sadly, it's now too late to get it activated. It's not like I had anyone to call anyway. To be honest, at one time I liked the solitude I had when Spencer was at work and the nights he said he was working late. But being here at the vacation home of my family, it just doesn't seem right. This house wasn't made for solitary confinement. It was made for large family gatherings, laughter, and fun.

I put on some music while I eat hoping it'll liven the place up. It doesn't. I look outside and it's still too windy to go anywhere. On Wednesday, I'll go to church and help out. Sarah said she'll be back on Friday. I'll be fine until then. Beau knows where I am, so maybe he'll stop by to see me. My lips tingle just thinking about him and that kiss.

Beau

It took all I had to not stop by and see Carly on Monday and Tuesday. I know she's just getting out of a relationship and the last thing she needs is me salivating after her.

On Monday, I pick up Myra from my dad's and we have breakfast with him at his house before the market opens for business.

Since Mom's death, Dad moved into the small one-bedroom apartment over the market and sold our family home. It was an abrupt decision, one that I wish he would have waited to make, but it was his decision to make and I supported him as best as I could. I can understand the pain that memories can cause, but I also know the joy. I would like to think that the happier memories would eventually take over the sad ones. Mom died in our family home, but it was also the house they bought right after being married. It was the home they brought me home to immediately following my birth. It was the only home I knew. But in the end, it was the house in which Mom was diagnosed with cancer and where she took her last breath. It was that night that Dad left the house and never returned.

"How was your date with Shorty?"

"It wasn't a date, Dad." I look down at Myra, who's playing with her doll.

"Back in my day when you spent time with a woman alone, it was called a date."

Looking at Dad, I say, "Well, I guess things have changed."

"Did you both have a good time at least?"

"We did. She found some sea treasures before she attempted her skills on the paddleboarding."

He laughs.

"What's so funny?"

"You put Shorty on a death trap on the first date; you'll never find a lasting mate at that rate. Has your old man taught you nothing?" He adds creamer to his coffee. "Wine and dine a girl. That's what they like. Not this roughhousing you've been doing. I'll be surprised if she goes out on a second date with you again."

"It wasn't a date," I clarify. "And she did seem to like it. We also had dinner outside on the patio."

"Now you're talking. Shorty's one of those girls you don't want to slip away. Raised by a good family with strong family values. That's what you need and that's what...." He stops and looks down at Myra who's still playing. "That's what the both of you need."

Nothing else is said throughout breakfast about Carly and me.

"What did you and Grandpa do last night?" I ask Myra.

"We cleaned and then we made cookies."

I search the small kitchen for the leftover cookies. "Where are they?"

"We ate them," Myra says innocently.

I look at Dad although I'm still talking to Myra. "Grandpa let you eat all the cookies?"

"Yeah, I threw up."

"Dad!"

"What? Look at her. She's fine."

"We'll talk about this later." I look down at my three-year-old daughter. Since my dad won't listen, I'm hoping Myra will. "That's why Daddy gives you only two cookies a day, Myra."

"I know, Daddy. I forgot. Don't be mad at Grandpa. He threw up, too."

A memory comes to mind of when I was a little boy sick with the flu. Mom was at the store when I threw up on my bed. I remember vividly my dad gagging while changing the bedding.

"Still can't stand the smell, eh?"

He holds his hand over his stomach. "I don't want to talk about it."

I let out a chuckle. "I bet you don't."

Later that day, I was glad that Myra and I had things to do to keep my mind off Carly.

Myra comes with me while I check the hurricane shutters on the beach house and at the church to make sure they're in working condition. The church is the only hurricane shelter on Seashell Island — it is supposed to be strong enough to withstand a category four hurricane. I just pray we never find out if it really is durable enough to withstand winds that forceful. We're very blessed that the island hasn't been impacted by a category four hurricane in decades, but tropical storms are pretty common.

When we're done, we gather some rocks by the water that the kids can use for craft time at the church on Wednesday. Jimmy's mom brought up an idea of the kids painting rocks that we could use to decorate the flower bed at the church. I thought it was a good idea, but I'm not sure how the kids can decorate them since her son eats everything we use for crafts, including the paint. I'll need to spend more time thinking about this craft before I mention it to the children.

Then we take dinner to Miss Jean since she's unable to get around. I was delighted when the members of the church all pitched in to take Miss Jean her evening meal. Tonight happens to be my and Myra's turn. We don't make food but decide to purchase something from a local diner and take it to her. I didn't specify it should be a home-cooked meal; I just mentioned it should be something hot and nutritious.

"Daddy, can we get cookies for dessert?" Myra asks.

I think she had enough cookies last night, but it's quite difficult for me to tell my little girl no. "We can, Myra, but we'll leave them at her house for her to enjoy when we're gone."

"Okay, but can I have one?" she asks, holding up one finger.

"One. And you get it after dinner for dessert."

"Okay, Daddy."

"Look for something with raisins," I call after her as she makes her way to the display cabinet.

I take her out of the cart so she can choose the cookies for dessert. It doesn't go unnoticed that she chooses the largest cookies in the bakery. People on the island call the very largest cookies "diet cookies" because you can eat one and write in your food journal "one cookie."

On Wednesday morning, Myra and I shower and I get ready to head to the church. Today Myra will spend the day with her babysitter, Cindy, and with Cindy's three children. I keep her with me as much as possible, but I know her being with me all the time isn't good for her. She needs to be with other children her age. Myra likes going over there and playing with the kids and I know it does her good being around a woman. Let's just face it, a woman can offer her things I can't. A woman will be more aware of things like proper etiquette for eating. What's proper for a man isn't always proper for a lady. I'd hate for Myra to blow her nose into a hankie at the dinner table on her first date, or fiftieth date for that matter. She wouldn't have learned that from me, but I can't say the same for her Grandpa.

Although the choir doesn't practice until this evening, this is the day I spend at the church preparing for Sunday's sermon. People on the island also know I'll be in the office if they need to come in and talk to me about something.

After I drop off Myra, I shop for the snacks the kids will have tonight during choir rehearsal. I decide on protein-rich snacks. Meat, cheese, crackers, and peanut butter. I also stop by the fresh fruit stand and purchase some fresh berries and peaches.

I can't deny that I'm also excited to see Carly today. I just saw her on Sunday yet it feels like so long ago.

When I finally get to the church, I leave the doors open so the islanders will know the church is open to everyone and anyone. Sometimes someone just needs a place to go and be alone. Sometimes people will come here to pray. Although God can hear you anywhere, they feel closer to God here. After all, it is His house, we're just guests.

But what I didn't expect was Carly knocking on my opened office door.

"Are you open?" she asks.

Laying my pen down, I smile as she stands there. "Yes, there's no need to knock. Please, come in."

She walks in, but she doesn't sit down.

"I wanted to see if it was all right if I started setting up the crafts for the kids tonight?"

"You brought crafts for the kids to make?" I ask, looking at the tote hanging on her shoulders.

"I did. I searched Pinterest to see what we could do with sea glass and found some simple jewelry ideas I thought we could make."

I stand when I realize she isn't going to sit down or come any closer. "I think the children would like to try something different."

"There's also no paint, glue, or markers needed. Or chainsaws."

"Ah, Jimmy will surely be disappointed."

She laughs. "I suspected he would. There may also be time we could color later. I found some print-out coloring pages, but Pap and Gram didn't have a printer at the house."

"We have a computer and printer here you could use." I nod to the printer and computer sitting unused on the other desk in my office.

"The noise from the printer won't bother you?"

"No, not at all. I was just going to take a break. Care to join me?"

"Sure, I'd like that." I watch as she sets her tote down on the chair.

I lock up the office and tell Bill the maintenance man that we're leaving. He's washing the pews and waves his acknowledgment.

"Do you care to walk over and get some ice cream?"

"You're a man after my heart."

"Am I now?"

"A person can win over almost anyone with food."

I think back on what my dad said earlier today. "Wine and dine her; that's what they want." Maybe he's wiser than I give him credit for. But then again, the same can go for men. Feed us and we'll do almost anything you want.

"Let's have lunch, too." I take her hand and I feel the same electric shock. We walk down Shell Lane in town until I see a place with outdoor seating available near the water. I make a conscious effort to stay away from Dad's market as it's nearby. I don't need him to see us as he'll surely come over and say something or join us. "How does this look?"

"Perfect. It's very quaint."

"Jimmy's mom and dad own it," I say, holding her chair out for her. Taking a seat on the opposite side, I admire her beauty. After we order our drinks and food, I say, "Can you explain what Pinterest is?"

"It's an addiction for men and women."

I raise my brow in curiosity.

"Oh, sorry. Not that kind of addiction. It's a website where you can search for anything. If you want to learn how to make something, find a new recipe, or discover do-it-yourself projects, you can find it on Pinterest."

"Really? I've never heard of it."

"It's not just for women. Men get addicted, too. They can learn how to make fly fishing bait, decorate a garage or man cave, or fix a leaking toilet."

"Oh, like YouTube?"

"In my personal opinion, it's better than YouTube. But don't go home tonight and type it into your search bar thinking you just want to see what it's about." She laughs out loud. "Three hours later you'll wonder where your evening went."

"I'll make sure Myra's in bed first."

"You'll thank me later."

We have lunch and she thanks me again for the cell phone I gave her. "It works perfectly."

"Is this it?" I ask, looking at the pink and glittery device on the table.

"It is. I left the island yesterday and bought a new case for it."

"It sure looks different. May I see it?" I ask, holding out my hand for it before she answers.

She hands it to me and I carefully inspect the girly cover. Before I give it back to her, I call my own cell phone from her phone. My phone rings and I hand it back to her.

"You're pretty shrewd, Beauregard."

"Now you should save that to your contacts." She's right. I am clever. Not only does she have my cell phone number, I also have hers.

She punches something into her phone. "You should also save my number, too."

I do just that.

***

At the end of choir practice, I decide to ask Carly out. We get along, I enjoy her company, and I don't think my profession is a concern of hers. I've prayed about this and I think God would approve of my choice. Well, at least there wasn't a sign showing me otherwise. The Devil didn't appear before me and compliment my choice of a woman to date.

Carly stays and walks out with me and Myra as we lock up the church. Myra's wearing her new piece of jewelry she made during craft time. I look out into the parking lot when I notice only one vehicle. "Did you walk here?"

"It was too nice to drive."

"I see. Do you want Myra and me to drive you home?"

"No, I'll walk. But thank you."

I look down at Myra and ask, "Do you want to walk Miss Carly home?"

"Daddy, I'm too tired to walk." Not what I was expecting her to say and this definitely throws a wrench in my plans. "How about if Daddy gives you a piggyback ride?"

"Yay."

I quickly pick her up and toss her on my back before she can change her mind.

Carly laughs and shakes her head.

"After you."

Carly looks at me. "You know she'll still be too tired and you'll have to carry her back to the church, don't you?"

"It'll be all right. There's something I wanted to ask you." Myra hugs my neck and rests her head on my back.

"What is it?"

"Would you like to have dinner with me Friday night?"

"I would love to," she says quickly and eagerly.

I was expecting a delayed response followed by an "I'm sorry." "You would?"

"Yes, what time should I be ready?"

"I thought we could have dinner off of the island if that's okay?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Great, I'll pick you up at five o'clock?"

"Yes, I'll be ready. But if something happens and you can't make it, call me."

What could possibly happen?
Chapter Six

Carly

With each passing day the excitement builds leading up to my date night with Beau. I keep it to myself although I wanted to call Sarah and tell her. I knew she would make me nervous by giving me unsolicited advice, sending me memes of inappropriate dating behavior through my e-mail, and possibly sending me a month's worth of condoms thanks to companies offering overnight deliveries. Hmm. A month's worth of condoms? How many would she think that is? For me, right now, zero is the correct number.

I'm nervous enough and I don't need her antics to add to my already mounting anxiety. I thank God that I have only two days to wait.

On Thursday, I go shopping off of the island to look for the perfect dress and shoes. I need something conservative but not boring. I need heels but not hooker height. I also need earrings, but not hoops. And I own none of these things.

When I'm happy with my purchases, I head home.

The rest of the night is spent giving myself a mani/pedi, giving my hair a hot-oil treatment, and myself a facial. I put Grace and Frankie on Netflix to help pass the time. Who doesn't love Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda? Plus, their failed marriages remind me why I'm single.

I decide to open a bottle of wine. Of course, if Beau and I were together, I would abstain from drinking altogether. Maybe I should stop now, just in case we wed. I laugh at myself for even thinking such a thing so early into a relationship. Relationship? Wed? We haven't even had a first date yet. What the hell am I thinking? I cap the wine and push it away. I'm screwed up enough on my own, I don't need any help. On second thought, I need something to help my nerves. I skip the glass and drink from the bottle.

The next morning, I get up and run before walking along the shore looking for seashells and other treasures that may have washed up on shore overnight from the deep blue sea. Lately, I've added driftwood to my collection of shells, sand dollars, and sea glass. Thanks to Pinterest, I know a lot of things I can make out of driftwood.

I start getting ready at three o'clock for my date at five. I want to look perfect for Beau. While I'm sitting on the bed with the French doors open to the patio, I hear a car pull into the driveway. Panicking, I look at my phone for the first time. It's just past four o'clock. It can't be Beau. I remain still, hoping he's not here to cancel or postpone our date. Soon I hear two giddy females laughing as they make their way to the house.

"Hey, Carly, we're home."

A smile forms on my face when I hear Sarah's voice. "Come through the back, it's open."

"And I brought someone with me."

I hear louder giggles.

"The more the merrier."

I wait patiently with my mascara wand in hand, making sure my white robe is covering up the nearly identical twins.

"Hey, bitch, we brought booze," Sarah yells a little too loudly. I'm glad the beach house is located on the dead side of the island. The church is within walking distance — I'm thankful it's not in hearing distance. I'm also pleased that Beau isn't already here. I'll need to warn her to tone down her colorful jargon.

When I finally see her on the patio, I wonder if she isn't already sloshed.

"I forgot you were coming tonight."

She looks at me with surprise. "Why are you getting dolled up?"

I look at her friend and give her a wave. "Because I have a date."

"Shut the front door."

I smile at her enthusiasm.

"With the preacher?"

"It is."

"Well, hot damn."

I cringe at her choice of words. I know this is something that would never be tolerated in church and I'm pretty confident Gram, Pap, and Mom wouldn't approve either.

"Sarah, Jesus. Watch your mouth," her friend says.

I think I like her already. "Hi, I'm Carly, Sarah's not rude sister," I say to my sister's friend. I feel awkward that she's standing there and Sarah has yet to introduce us.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Sarah and her friend are now standing in my bedroom just past the door. "This is my girlfriend, Chloe."

It didn't get overlooked that my sister said "girlfriend." I'm curious if this is just a friend girlfriend or if it's the girl Sarah kissed and they're girlfriend girlfriends.

"So, you have a hot date with Beau?"

"I do, and if I don't hurry, I'll be late."

"Okay, say no more. We'll be in the pool. Make sure you stop out there so we can see you."

"Okay, I will. It's nice to meet you, Chloe." I watch as they exit my bedroom.

"Likewise."

I finish applying my mascara as I listen to Sarah and Chloe laughing on the patio. I begin to feel anxious as the time gets closer. I pray that I say and do the right things tonight. I don't want to humiliate Beau in public or any other place. Mom raised us better than that. It's not like curse words just fly out of my mouth, do they?

I dress and slip into my shoes as I wait for Beau. I want to be ready when he arrives.

Normally, I would have a glass of wine to calm my nerves. Not tonight. I'll have to rely on prayer to get me through. Well, that and deep breathing just in case the answer to my prayer is "Help yourself."

I pace the house, straighten my bed, and wipe off the kitchen counters before I realize he's supposed to have already been here. I check my phone to see if I had a missed call from him and I didn't. It's already past five-thirty. Why hasn't he called?

"Hey, what time's your date?" Sarah calls from the pool.

I slip off my shoes and walk out onto the patio. "A half an hour ago."

"Did you call him to see what happened?"

"No."

"Carly, maybe something happened to him. He wouldn't just not show up."

I hate thinking that something happened. "He'll call when he can. I'm not going to call him."

"I wouldn't call either," Chloe agrees.

After a few minutes of deliberating on what to do, I ask, "Well, what do you guys want to do for dinner?" I look out into the pool as they rest their arms on the cement ledge.

"Chloe, do you want pizza at the house or do you want to go out for dinner?"

"I wouldn't mind staying in unless you'd rather be alone."

I think she's talking to Sarah when I look up and see she's talking to me.

"Because I got stood up by a preacher? No, I can cry and mope around the house with y'all here. I don't need to be alone for that."

"Don't feel like that. I can already tell it's his loss."

I have no idea where Chloe came from, but I like her. "Thank you."

"What do you want on your pizza?" I ask, standing to walk into the bedroom to get my phone to call and order the food.

"Anything," Sarah lies.

I don't think she means to lie, but I know she likes only pepperoni and cheese on her pizza.

Chloe rolls her eyes and gives me a knowing smile. "Whatever you order, I'll eat."

I return a short time later with the pizza and I've decided not to waste a perfectly good evening thinking about Beau or what I could have done to make him not want to be here tonight. I look at my sister and Chloe, who are still swimming.

I toss down the extra towels near the edge of the pool and place the pizza on the table. "Do y'all need some water, wine, or pop to drink?"

"No, we're fine. We still have some wine," Sarah says, walking out of the pool. I go back into the house and get some water, paper plates, and napkins.

It feels good having Sarah and her friend here to take my mind off of Beau. I'd hate to think something happened to him, but I don't think that's the excuse for why he hasn't called. I know deep to my core that he realized I'm not the kind of person he needs in his life. I shouldn't feel sad about that, but I do. I knew all along he needed someone as special as he is and I'm not that girl. Just ask Spencer. He replaced me probably even before I moved from the apartment.

"Hey, on second thought, we will take a water," Sarah yells.

"Coming right up."

I set the water, plates, and napkins down on the table.

"Any news from your date?"

I look up at Chloe and shake my head. I want to say it doesn't bother me, but it does. Not because I thought we'd get married and have two-point-five kids and a dog, but because I thought he was different.

"I'm sorry. He's a jerk and you're too good to be treated like that."

Chloe and I both look over at Sarah.

"What? I was being nice."

"We can tell," Chloe and I say in unison.

"Jerk" is a kind word coming from my sister.

"I'd rather not talk about him if you don't mind."

"Wanna play quarters?" Sarah asks. Quarters is a drinking game.

I can see a look being passed between Chloe and my sister. Is this the game that was played when my sister first kissed a girl and was that girl Chloe? Is there something going on that I should know about?

"I think I'll pass."

Sarah says, "If I hear you crying, I'm heading over to his house and giving him an earful of verbal abuse."

I know she means well. "You don't know where he lives."

"We're on a tiny island, so how hard will it be to find him?" She uncrosses her arms. "I mean it. He's not worth your tears."

"I know you're right. I just thought he was different." It makes me feel like I'm not good enough. I have a sadness in my heart I never expected. Why do I feel this way about Beau when I didn't feel even a smidgen of sadness when I left Spencer? "No, don't go over there. I just need a night to feel sad and then tomorrow I'll feel better."

"I can understand that," Chloe says. "He pulled on your heartstrings and that hurts. Give yourself tonight but not a minute longer. Life's too short to be sad."

"Thank you, Chloe."

After the pizza's gone, I stand from the table. "Can you guys clean up?" I ask Sarah.

"Go on. We got this."

"Thank you."

That night I plan to do what Chloe says. I'll give myself one night to be sad, then tomorrow will be a new day. I'll feel better in the morning, even if I have to fake it. It was just a date, so why am I so sad? Because I thought I was at least worth a phone call. An apology. A chance to prove my value as a human being. I'm a good girl. Can't he see that? I cry myself to sleep and dream of an old lady who resembles me living in a house full of cats.

The next morning, I check my phone only to see there's nothing to see. Still no call or text. I shower and dress in a sundress before I have my coffee. The sun's shining, and it's going to be a gorgeous day on the island.

I'm surprised to see I'm not the only person up. Chloe and my sister are already sitting outside on the patio having their coffee. They're already dressed for the day.

"You guys are up early."

"We went running around the island this morning. Coffee?" Sarah asks, holding up the carafe.

"Yes, please."

"Gram, Mom, and Pap are on their way."

"Why? You didn't tell them..."

"Relax. There was nothing to tell. Mom just called and said they'll be here about noon. It'll be nice having everyone together again."

Sarah's right. It will be nice. "You'll love Mom, Gram, and Pap," I tell Chloe.

"I can't wait to meet them. Sarah told me so much about your family that I feel like I already know them."

"You won't be a stranger; they'll make sure of that."

I have my coffee before Sarah and I pick up the house. We start changing the bed sheets and quilts, then run the sweeper and dust. Chloe also starts sweeping off the front porch.

Just before noon we see a car coming down the long driveway. Sarah and I stand excitedly. This is perfect timing for them to come. I've been so busy this morning that I haven't had time to think about Beau. I'm so happy to have my family together. We walk off the porch to greet everyone as they park the car. Sarah and Chloe go to the driver side, and I open the passenger-side door for Gram.

Her hug is warm and welcoming. "Look at you," she says lovingly.

"I've missed you, Gram."

"We just couldn't get here fast enough," she admits.

She looks at me as if I'm the only person standing here. I know she also makes Sarah feel the same way just as she'll make Chloe feel special, too. This is why I'll never feel like I'm good enough for anyone. No one can ever make me feel as special as Gram, Pap, and Mom make me feel.

"You look so thin — are you eating enough?"

"I am. I'm fine."

"When Tony called, he said you were in the market only a few times for groceries. Unless you're eating out three meals a day, there's no way you're eating enough."

I want to question Gram as to why Beau's dad would have called her, but I don't.

"I'm fine, I promise. You had food in the pantry and I also made chili."

I don't mention an insane amount of pizza and wine.

"Okay, as long as you're eating."

I kiss and hug Mom next. She looks amazingly young and beautiful. That's also the gene I never got. I never knew why she didn't remarry after Dad died. At first, I thought she was devoting her time to raising Sarah and me, but even after we moved out of the house, she remained alone.

"How are you, Carly?"

"I'm better now. I've missed you."

She places her hand lovingly on my cheek. "You look tired. Are you sure everything's all right?" It's not an insult, but a caring observation.

"It's fine, I promise."

"We'll talk later."

"Okay, Mom."

I walk over to greet Pap next. He hugs me and picks me up slightly off the ground. "Tell me again why we waited so long to come together as a family."

"I have no idea, but better now than never."

"You know that's right. Are you enjoying your time here?" He searches my eyes for honesty.

"I am. I've missed it here."

"Me, too. Help me carry the groceries into the house, will ya?" Pap says, opening the car door.

"Y'all brought food?"

"Tony called and said you weren't eating and you know how Gram and your mother are."

"Pap, I'm eating."

"I believe you, but they insisted on stocking the shelves in the pantry. Believe me, there was no arguing with either of them. Besides, it was time to restock. Never know when you'll have bad weather and be unable to get out for groceries and water."

I don't know if I ever knew that Pap and Gram brought food into the beach house to stock the pantry for everyday use and bad weather. That makes sense. Bringing food onto an island can be costly for the vendors selling it, which means they have to raise their prices to cover their cost.

Once everything's carried inside and put away, I overhear Pap talking about the sermon on Sunday.

A long time ago while my mother was a young girl, Pap was the part-time preacher at the very same church Beau runs. The church has been rebuilt since then, but it still stands on the same corner lot.

"You're giving the sermon in the morning at the church?"

Mom, Pap, and Gram look up at me. Pap says, "Tony called and said Beau's not able."

I know Beau's all about his family and his religion. What could possibly have happened to prevent him from delivering his Sunday's sermon?

"Pap, did Tony say why?"

"He didn't go into details, but he said Beau and his daughter would be away for a while. Beau is already gone, and Tony is looking after Myra, but she will join Beau quickly."

Did I chase Beau away? Did he leave because of me? I have to know. "How long will you be staying on the island?"

"Just until Sunday evening. Gram has a doctor's appointment this week." Pap watches me with concern. "Carly, are you okay?"

I put on a fake smile. "I'm fine. I've been helping out with the kids on Wednesdays during choir practice."

Mom and Gram smile with pleasure. "Oh, Carly. That's wonderful."

"Thank you, Mom. It feels good to be useful," I say honestly.

"Good for you, Carly," Pap says proudly. "Is that little boy still eating the craft supplies?"

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Yeah, he does."

"His dad did the same thing at that age. I'm still not convinced he ever stopped." I want to laugh, but I'm not sure Pap's kidding. He opens his Bible. "I'll plan for the sermon one week at a time. Hopefully, Beau will be back next week."

Mom and Gram start dinner while Chloe and Sarah sunbathe by the pool. I go into my bedroom and debate on whether or not to call Beau. Maybe something happened to him. Why would he be out of town? I decide to send him a text.

Carly: Pap's here and said he'll be giving the sermon on Sunday. I hope everything's okay with you and Myra.

I expect an immediate response so I'm disappointed and hurt when he doesn't reply.

The night is spent with the family. We have dinner and play board games. I notice Sarah is on her best behavior. Pap is fine with having a glass of wine with dinner or in the evening, but he doesn't tolerate drunkenness. Public or otherwise. He also doesn't tolerate colorful language.

"What time are we leaving for church in the morning?" Sarah asks.

"We should leave here at 10:30," Pap says, looking at his watch.

"They had potluck last weekend while I was there."

"That's right. Tony did mention something about that."

Gram stands up and heads into the kitchen. "I best be making something to take."

"I'll help you, Mom."

I watch as Mom and Gram disappear into the other room.

"What's the matter, Carly?"

I look into Pap's knowing eyes.

"It's a guy." I don't know if I said that because he'll understand or because he won't want to talk about it with me.

"I never did like that Spencer."

Sarah and Chloe peek into the den where we're sitting. "Heading out to walk the beach. You wanna come?"

"No, I'm gonna stay here," Pap teases.

"You sure, Pap? You can come, too."

"I'm sure, Sarah. I got work to do. Carly, you wanna go stretch your legs?" Pap asks.

"I'll go." I stand up and kiss Pap on his cheek. Thanks for the chat."

It really wasn't a chat. But he did say something I found interesting. He said he never liked Spencer. This is news to me. I said I had guy problems, but I never said who the guy was. Is it my fault he made a wrong assumption?

"Anytime you wanna talk, I'm here." He looks up at Sarah and Chloe. "That goes for the both of you, too."

"Thanks, Pap."

Sarah, Chloe, and I walk around the island. I'm silent as Sarah shows her around. We walk down Shell Lane as the vendors are putting away their merchandise and closing up shop for the day. I hear a screen door close and look up to see Tony and Myra leaving the market. I search the surrounding area for Beau, but he isn't around.

Myra sees me and smiles.

"Hi, Myra," I say, waving.

"Hey, Tony," Sarah greets him.

"Hey, big Shorty and little Shorty."

Sarah introduces Chloe to Tony and Myra. "Will we see you both at church tomorrow?"

My eyes shift quickly over to Sarah. I know what she's doing. Although I didn't want her to ask, I'm anxious to hear his answer.

"No, I'm sorry to say we won't be there tomorrow. We're getting ready to head out of town."

"Yeah, we're going to see my mommy," Myra says, innocently.

One thing I know for sure is that children don't lie. My heart falls to the pit of my stomach. I wish I had known Beau was back with Myra's mom. I want to excuse myself, but my quivering lips prevent them from forming words.

"Shorty, I'll have Beauregard call you when he gets a chance. I hate to be rude, but Myra and I need to get going."

I remain silent and walk away as Tony buckles Myra into her car seat. I don't know what Sarah says to them and I don't care. I quietly walk away.

Even if we didn't have anything going on, at least he could have called me and canceled our date. I'm hurt and I don't know if I even have a reason to feel this way. Because it was rude to keep me waiting when he knew damn good and well he wasn't coming. That's why. How hard was it to call me or even reply to my earlier text message?

Sarah and Chloe stay behind me. I think they're behind me. I haven't looked back as I march myself home. They might have stopped off to watch the sunset. I hope they did. I don't want to ruin their evening.

I walk into the house, closing the door behind me. Mom and Gram are still in the kitchen.

"I'm not feeling well, so I'm going to take a hot bath and go to bed."

"Where's Sarah and Chloe?" Gram asks with concern.

"They stayed back to watch the sunset."

Walking past them, Mom asks, "Can I get you something?"

"No, I'm fine."

When I get into the bedroom, my cellphone's flashing indicating I have a missed call or a text message. I soon realize it's a text from Beau.

Beau: Carly, something's come up and I can't get into it over the phone. I'm not sure when I'll be back on the island. Please accept my apology. I never meant to hurt you.

What? That's it? No explanation? I never meant to hurt you? I guess I can chalk this up to the shortest relationship in history.

I take a bubble bath then cry myself to sleep.

Beau

When Leslie's mom, Phyllis, called to tell me about Leslie, I was shocked, hurt, and mad. I know that anyone who does drugs has the potential to overdose. Even though you know this is a probability and it most likely will happen, there's no way for anyone to prepare for it. With the drug Narcan readily available to medical professionals, many people are surviving what used to be a death sentence. The only problem is, you must still be alive when someone finds you for the prescription drug to work.

I was already in Charlotte for a church conference with Mark, one of the elders from the church, when I received the call from Phyllis on Friday morning.

Mark rushed me to the hospital where I insisted on being dropped off. I didn't see the need for him to wait with me as I had no idea how long I would be here. From what Phyllis said, I knew Leslie was in bad shape.

I was greeted in the ICU waiting area by Leslie's mom, Phyllis, and her dad, Stanley. Judging by their appearance, they have been here for a while. I didn't ask, but I had assumed this had just happened.

When Leslie and I divorced, they blamed me for her depression and drug addiction. It's always easier to blame others. Sadly, I also blamed myself and I guess I still do. Maybe blaming myself isn't the right thing to do. I have always wondered if I did the right things and if I did enough to help her. Did I abandon her and our marriage too quickly?

Not after what happened to Myra, I didn't. I made a promise to God and to myself I would always protect Myra first. Plus, Leslie made her own decision when she left the hospital right after Myra's birth.

Phyllis walks over to me while her husband, Stanley, stands near the coffee machine.

"I'm glad you came, Beau."

"Thank you for calling me."

"It doesn't look good."

I look at Phyllis. She's aged since I last saw her. Her eyes are sunken, and the dark circles let me know she hasn't slept.

"Do you want to sit down?" I motion then follow her to the green leather sofa and wait patiently for her to talk.

She wipes her eyes and nose with a white tissue. "She's on life support but she's only breathing ten percent on her own."

That's not good. "When did this happen?"

"Last night. The police officer came to the house about eleven o'clock or so." I look at my watch and it's just past four in the afternoon. "They said she doesn't have any brain activity."

A nurse stands in the doorway to the entrance of the IUC.

"Family of Miller?" she calls.

"It's time for our visit. I'll be back out in fifteen minutes."

"Okay, I'll wait here."

I stand with her and watch as she and her husband, Stanley, walk through the double doors. The sign over the door reads Immediate Family Only. I decide there's only one place I should be. I leave and take the elevator to the hospital chapel.

I kneel at the altar and pray. I pray for forgiveness for me because I didn't do more. I pray for strength for Phyllis and Stanley to be able to get over this. I pray for my daughter, who's losing her mother permanently. Although deep in my heart I pray for Leslie to get better and see her daughter, I know this will never happen. Myra will never know her mother. She'll never know the woman I fell in love with. And thankfully, she'll never know the woman she turned into. The woman who walked away from her newborn daughter while she lay in the NICU, detoxing from the drugs her mother fed her while pregnant with her. I pray for an easy transition for Leslie into her eternal resting place. I pray that she can finally find peace and happiness.

When I get downstairs Phyllis and Stanley are both crying. My heart thuds as I watch their pain. I sit quietly as they comfort each other. I'm not sure what to say to either of them as I'm feeling pained for Myra's loss.

Stanley looks sad and broken. "Her organs are failing and they've decided to take her off life support."

Now. Is she already gone? "When?"

"We didn't know if you wanted to bring Myra up to see her mother first."

"Yes, of course. I'd also like to see her."

Phyllis says, "The visiting hours no longer apply to us. We can go back and sit with her."

They both stand and I follow them back to the last room on the left. They each take a seat as I stand at the head of the bed. Leslie's hooked up to a ventilator. She doesn't look like she did the last time I saw her. I'm not sure I would have even recognized her. I lean in and brush her hair away from her face. Her once flawless skin is covered in red, raised acne and open sores. She's emaciated and sickly. Her once long thick dark hair is now thinning and dull.

Stanley says through sobs, "The prolonged use of drugs has caused extensive damage to her vital organs. If the overdose didn't kill her, sooner or later, organ failure would have."

"I'm sorry. I never wanted this to happen." Looking down at Leslie, I can see the track marks on her arms. If there was a vein in her arm, it's been used as a pin-cushion. I don't think I want Myra to see this. I know Leslie's her mother, but this isn't a memory I want imbedded in my daughter's head. This would be the first and only memory Myra would have of her mother, and I won't allow it. I can't allow it. I need to ask about funeral arrangements.

Slowly, I walk away from Leslie. I can't bear to see her like this. All of this she did to herself. Why would someone want to do this? The pain she's caused to herself and to her loved ones couldn't have been worth it.

"Do you know what you'll do for her funeral?" There's no nice way to ask.

"Stan and I talked about this. We've decided to just have her cremated. Maybe we'll have something at the house for her later. Since her addiction, she's lost contact with all of her old friends."

I sit gingerly beside them. "I don't think it's a good idea for Myra to see her mother like this."

"I agree," Stanley says. "This is something I don't want my granddaughter to remember. Hell, I'd like to forget it myself."

"Thank you for understanding. If you'd like I could bring Myra over to your house. Maybe we could have a small memorial service, talk about Leslie before her addiction, share some pictures of her so Myra can see what her mother used to be like."

"Beau," Stanley says, "I blamed you unfairly for Leslie's drug abuse. It was easier to blame you than for us to blame her for her own addiction. And for that, I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

We all pray together before the doctor takes Leslie off life support. Phyllis and Stanley each hold her hand and cry. It doesn't take long for her to take her last breath. I don't love Leslie, but I never wanted to see her life end like this. I guess deep down I always hoped she'd get clean and want to at least see her daughter. Sadly, that never happened.

We walk outside of her room and into the waiting area while the nurses clean up Leslie and remove the ventilator.

"Beau, we're going to the chapel while we wait for the funeral home to come and get her. Do you want to come with us?" Phyllis asks.

"No, thank you. I'll wait here. I'd like to have a moment alone with her, if that's all right?"

"We'll be back soon."

I watch as Stanley holds the door open for his wife. If I didn't know better, I'd say they've aged ten years in the last hour. To lose your only daughter, I can't imagine. I don't want to imagine. The pain in my heart is unbearable just thinking of losing Myra. Even with my beliefs about heaven and eternal life, this is still too much. Just living my life, here on this earth without her, is too painful to think about.

I go in and hold Leslie's hand and pray. I try to remember her before the drug abuse but those memories are foggy. They seem so far away. There's nothing about her that reminds me of the way she was before her addiction. I wish I could have done something more for her. I wish I could have helped her. Why wasn't my love for her enough for her to want to be clean? Why wasn't Myra enough? It really is a sickness. Leslie's finally at peace. Whatever demons she had are now gone.

Once the funeral home came to claim the body, Leslie's parents decide to have a small memorial service at their home for Myra. They want to have a few photos of her mother scattered about for Myra to see. This will also be a good time for Myra to get to know her grandparents.

They ask if I'd be willing to stay with them and help them plan something for Sunday. I'm not sure how they'll function day to day much less look through family photo albums. Before I leave with them, I call Dad and ask if he'd keep Myra while I help Stanley and Phyllis over the next couple days. I also let him know that on Sunday we'll have a memorial service at Leslie's parents' house.
Chapter Seven

Carly

We all attend church on Sunday as a family. The congregation welcomes Pap warmly. Not just him, but all of us. Pap gives a powerful sermon about helping others and offering kindness to not just those in need, but to everyone, all of the time.

Gram and Mom made a feast of their own for the after-church potluck. Ham, homemade noodles, homemade dinner rolls, and blackberry pie. I'm not surprised as this is normal for my family.

Church didn't feel the same with Beau, Tony, and Myra absent. I didn't want to stay for the potluck, but I had to. What would it have looked like if the preacher's family didn't stay for the clean-up?

On Sunday night everyone returns home. Sarah and Chloe leave first. Pap, Gram, and Mom invite Chloe to come back anytime.

Then Mom, Gram, and Pap leave next. "If Gram didn't have an appointment, we would stay," Pap says. "But we'll be back on Friday."

I'm assuming that means Beau won't be back for the sermon next week either. "Okay. I think I'm going to start apartment hunting this week. I shouldn't be here much longer."

"Carly, there's no hurry. You can stay as long as you need."

"I know, Pap, and I appreciate it, but I think it's time."

"Just promise me you won't move out until we get back. At least give us one more weekend together."

"I promise."

"And don't rush into a place because you think you have to settle," he adds. "You can stay here as long as you want."

"Thank you," I say, hugging him.

After I bid my farewells, I watch as they pull out of the driveway. I'm glad everyone came this weekend, but I feel as though I need time to think about what I need to do with my life. I need to be alone to figure it out, and I also want to get this book written.

I dress in sweats and turn off my cell phone to eliminate any distractions. I laugh out loud. Like my cell phone is a distraction. I haven't received one call since I've been here. Maybe I shut it off so I won't be tempted to call Beau or check it needlessly for a text message.

I work consistently on my book through the day and apartment hunt from my laptop in the evening. I don't remember the weather on Seashell Island being so erratic. It's beautiful and sunny one day, then windy and rainy the next.

On Wednesday evening, I think briefly about not going to the church for craft time with the kids. Then I quickly change my mind. I committed to doing this, not because of Beau, but for the children.

I drive to the church because the wind gusts are so strong. The doors are closed and there are no cars in the parking lot.

This is odd. Are they closed because Beau's out of town? Pap would have come back for the Wednesday night church service if that was the case.

I'm a little relieved that I won't be facing Beau today. I don't know if he's even back on the island or not. But I'm sad I won't get to spend some time with the children and listen to the wonderful singing from the choir.

I drive through town looking for something to eat so I won't have to cook tonight. No place is open. I see a few shops boarded up, and I wonder if they do this when they leave the island. I guess it makes sense to protect your personal property.

I head home and make a sandwich while I get back to writing. I was hoping to write a romance book with love and humor, but this book is turning into a darker, sorrowful read. A lot like how I feel.

***

On Friday morning, the winds pick up and it's raining heavily. I make sure all the windows and doors are closed and locked. I can see the ocean from the window and the waves look angry. I swear it looks like the palm trees and the live oaks are going to blow over. The wind howls as it passes through the house and the trees. I close the blinds so I don't have to look outside.

I attempt to work when the lights flicker off and on and then off again. Remaining seated, I wait for them to flicker back on. They don't. Great, no electric. I fold up Mean Mac and stow him beneath the coffee table before I light a few candles as I make my way into the bedroom to get my cell phone. Now, I'm worried this may be a little more than just a storm. I turn on my phone and it's nearly dead. I see a few unanswered texts from Mom, Sarah, and Beau, and some missed calls from Gram, Pap, and Beau.

Mom: Carly, get off the island; there's a storm headed your way.

Mom: Why do you have a phone if you leave it off? Call me, I'm worried.

Sarah: Are you trying to scare the piss out of me? Aren't you watching The Weather Channel? There's a storm coming right for Seashell Island.

Sarah: I'm not kidding. Get your ass to a shelter. NOW!

Beau: The church is opening up Thursday night for the storm. It's expected to hit sometime on Friday. If you're still on the island, you need to leave or take shelter.

Beau: Your Pap called. he's worried about you. He said you're not answering your phone. Call me so I know you're safe.

Beau: Carly, this isn't funny. I know I've upset you and I'm sorry. But this storm is serious. Call me and let me know something.

Just as I attempt to listen to my messages, my phone dies. Great. Now what? How bad can it be? I'll just wait it out. I remember storms coming when I stayed with Gram and Pap during the summers. But were they hurricanes or tropical storms? Not that time of year. Those were just thunderstorms and I don't recall us ever losing power.

Slowly, I peek outside the window. I can't see anything from the rain. It looks foggy with zero visibility. When I realize I'm stranded, I search the kitchen for batteries, flashlights, and battery-operated candles. Then I hunker down in the safest room of the house; the master bedroom's closet. No exterior walls and no windows. Assuming the wind doesn't blow the roof off, I should be safe.

I chastise myself for thinking the boarded-up businesses were people leaving on vacation. I'm an idiot. What do I know about hurricanes? Hell, I grew up in Ohio.

Beau

After the second call from Pap pleading that I find Carly, I decide I don't have any other choice. I'll never be able to rest not knowing if she's safe or not, and I'll never be able to forgive myself if something's happened to her.

As soon as I know everyone left on the island is safe in the church, I put on my rain gear to head out in the storm to get Carly. She won't be happy seeing me, but she'll have to get over it.

I couldn't explain to her over the phone about Myra's mom. That conversation would be better said in person so we could deal with it together. That is, if she still wants to see me.

I prepare myself for the worst. I know Carly will be upset with me, and she may even refuse to come back to the church with me. If she does, I'll toss her over my shoulder and carry her to safety if I have to. Either way, she's coming back with me. This is the safest place for her, for all of us.

I don't let Myra or the rest of the congregation know I'm leaving. I don't want to cause unnecessary panic or worry. Dad knows I'm leaving and he'll be in charge until I get back. The windows are hurricane proof so whatever's happening outside can barely be heard inside.

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Dad, I have to. I have to know she's all right, plus her Gram and Pap are worried about her."

"All right. If for some reason she doesn't answer the door, there's a spare key under the concrete planter on the porch. It's dangerous out there. Are you doing this for her Gram and Pap?"

"No, Dad. I'm not. I think I love her."

He nods. "Then go get your girl and bring her back safely."

"I plan to."

"If you get into trouble, call me."

"I will. Take care of Myra for me."

"Don't worry about her. My granddaughter's in good hands. You just come back safely."

We hug briefly before leaving. The winds are just as the weatherman predicted. Brisk doesn't even describe it. With the wind and the rain, there's almost no visibility. Forcing myself to walk against the wind, I head in the direction of Carly's house.

I prayed before I left and I'll pray on my way there. Flying debris could pose a serious threat. Since I can't see, I can't avoid it if it comes at me.

I thank God there're no down power lines. The short distance there takes me nearly an hour to walk. There's a tree down in the middle of the road and there's no way around it. While climbing over it, I cut a deep gash into my arm from a branch. With nothing to wrap it with, I just apply pressure with my free hand until I get to Carly's house. The amount of blood and the length of the cut is definitely a concern. I decide to try to hold it close to my body while applying pressure above the wound trying to act as a tourniquet.

Her car's still in the driveway so I know she's home. I knock and yell several times but there's no answer. Using the key under the large planter, I let myself in.

"Carly?" I yell as I make my way into the house and through each room. "Carly?" I yell louder with each passing second.

"I'm in here."

Relief washes over me. I follow the sound of her voice. "Where?"

"I'm in Gram and Pap's closet."

I walk into the room and see her standing in the doorway to the walk-in closet. At least she's smart enough to take cover. That makes her smarter than I've been.

"What are you doing here? There's a terrible storm as you're well aware."

"There's a hurricane and your family's deeply concerned for you." I remove my wet raincoat and hang it on the door to dry.

"Beau, you're bleeding."

"Do you have a first-aid kit?"

"Of course, come in here with me." She carries a flashlight out of the dark bedroom closet into the master bathroom. I follow closely behind as I keep pressure on the open cut. She sets the flashlight on the sink for light. "It looks deep. Let's get it washed off first."

I run water over my arm as she searches for the first-aid kit in the linen closet.

"Found it." She walks over and squeezes some Betadine on my arm and cleans it with gauze. "How did you do this?"

"There's a tree down in the road, I had to climb over it to get to you."

"You said there's a hurricane?" she asks not taking her eyes off of my injury.

"Category three. I've been calling you, but your phone's off." Should I tell her that includes 111 to 129 M.P.H. winds? What about the devastating damage that also comes with a category three hurricane? She doesn't need to know these details.

"I've been writing. I didn't want any distractions."

"You didn't know about the hurricane?"

She rinses off my arm and wraps in a clean towel. I follow her and sit on the edge of a bathtub.

"No. I wondered why no one was at the church Wednesday."

I expected Carly to be upset over me standing her up the other night. I didn't expect her to be so nice to me. I know I owe her an explanation, but this doesn't seem like the right place or time.

"Everyone was preparing for the hurricane."

"I can see that now. This is going to need stitches. I can close it up using Steri-Strips until you can get to a hospital."

I look down at the wound. Carly's wearing latex gloves and pinching my cut together to show me how it'll look with the Steri-Strips.

"Thank you."

"I have some Tylenol if you need something for pain."

"No, I'm fine. Thanks anyway."

"Suit yourself."

"When we're done, you need to call your Pap and let him know you're all right."

"My phone's dead and there's no power in the house. I have no means of charging my cell phone."

"You can use my phone."

"Why aren't you with your dad and daughter?"

"I was at the church when your Pap called. I had assumed you knew about the hurricane and left the island to go inland."

"I would have if had I known about it." She applies the Steri-Strips and then wraps my arm with protective gauze. "Almost good as new."

Nodding my head I have to agree. "Thank you. It looks great."

"I didn't notice the storm was serious until just before the lights went out."

"When did you lose power?"

She removes her gloves and places the first-aid kit back into the closet. "I lost electricity a few hours ago. The wind was blowing so hard that I was afraid it was going to blow the patio furniture through the sliding glass door."

"Is that why you were in the closet when I got here?"

"That, and in case a tree fell on the house or the wind broke the glass windows."

I listen to the howling winds. "We best get back in there."

"Is it safe to be here?"

"It's safer to be in here than it is out there. My plan was to come here and take you back to the church with me, but with the downed trees, we'd have to nearly walk on the other side of the island to get to the church."

"That doesn't sound that bad."

I look in her brown eyes. "It took me nearly an hour to get here and you're just down the street."

"Oh."

When we get back to the closet, I see she has a few bottles of water and a pillow and blanket she was using. I'm glad to see she's somewhat prepared.

"Here," I say, handing her my phone. "Call your Gram and Pap, and then I'll call my dad and let him know we'll be riding out the storm here."

After the calls and text messages are sent to our families, I put the phone away to conserve the battery. Some time passes before any words are spoken between us.

"I owe you an apology." Her eyes travel up to meet mine, although she says nothing. "I got a call on Friday afternoon saying that Myra's mother, Leslie, had overdosed on heroin."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

I can see the sincerity in her eyes. "I didn't call you because I wasn't thinking clearly. I rushed to the hospital to see if there was something I could do. I felt it was what God wanted."

"I understand." She doesn't look away from me. "I saw your dad the other day and Myra said she was going to see her mom. "How's Leslie doing now?"

"Dad brought Myra to Charlotte for her mother's memorial. Instead of driving back here to get Myra and Dad, I stayed in Charlotte to comfort Leslie's mother and father."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Thank you. You wouldn't have known. No one knew about the overdose but Dad. I didn't even tell your Pap or the congregation what had happened. But I did a lot of thinking during that time."

"I thought you stood me up intentionally. I would have understood if you had called me."

"I did think about calling you afterwards, then I thought you'd be better off without me in your life."

Her face looks pained. Maybe from news about Leslie's passing or because I said she'd be better off without me.

"You're a good man, Beau. Whatever happened to Leslie to put her on that destructive path had nothing to do with you." I look down at the flameless battery-operated candle. "I mean it, Beau. Don't you think for a minute you're at fault."

"Thank you. I know that, but there'll always be doubt: Did I do enough to help her?"

"Your first obligation was to your daughter, then to Leslie. I don't have to have been there to know you did everything you could to help her. I know the person whom you are. I've seen you at church and around people."

I ignore her statement. I hear what she's saying, but I'll never be convinced that I couldn't have done more to help Leslie with her addiction.

"I'm sorry about Myra's mom. How's Myra doing?"

"She didn't know her so she's fine."

"I thought you didn't call because you realized I wasn't the right person for you."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because of my fifty shades of blue language. Because of my wine consumption. Because I lie for a living and get paid to do so."

I laugh. "You do have colorful language, but with work I think we could tame that if you wanted to."

"And my drinking doesn't bother you?"

"I've never seen you inebriated, so it's my assumption that you don't abuse it, but just have a glass with dinner."

"Good assumption."

"You're an author. You have an art and you're very successful. I don't see anything wrong in that."

"So you didn't have second thoughts about me?"

"I thought about you plenty. But I never once questioned my feelings for you."

"Then there's only one thing for you to do," she says. I can see a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

I can see she's right. "Carly Jo Stewart, would you like to go out with me?"

"I'd love to. When?"

"Let's get past the hurricane and the clean-up, then we can plan on a date."

She listens to the howling of the winds. "Do you think we'll survive this?"

I can see the fear in her eyes that I never noticed before. "Come here," I say, offering her my arms for comfort. She comes willingly. "We have to. We have a date to plan when this is all over."

I just hope it's over soon.

Carly

I have no words for the way I feel over the loss of Myra's mother and Beau's ex-wife. The pain and guilt Beau feels is heartbreaking. As if this could be his fault. I never knew Beau to have low self-esteem. I thought he stood me up because he realized I wasn't good enough for him. How did we get to this place where we feel responsible for everything wrong going on around us? Or feel we aren't good enough for others? I know we both weren't raised like that. I'm blaming it on our exes. It must be their fault.

I sleep comfortably in Beau's arms. We're not lying down, but he's sitting up with his back against the wall and I'm snuggled into his lap.

Just as soon as the winds slow down, we get ready to brave the weather conditions when Pap, Gram, and Mom walk into the house. Beau and I are standing at the door getting ready to leave.

"How did you get here? I didn't hear a car pull in."

Pap looks at me as Gram and Mom are removing their jackets. "We walked. There's some trees down and we had to park the car down the road." Pap looks up at Beau. "I'm glad you were here with her."

Mom and Gram hug me tightly. Mom says, "We were so worried."

"I'm fine."

Beau says, looking at Pap, "You shouldn't have risked driving here."

"Thankfully the road leading to the island's clear. I needed to make sure my granddaughter was safe."

"I'm fine, Pap, but I have no idea about the condition of the outside of the beach house."

"You're the only thing we were concerned about." Pap hugs me tightly and kisses the top of my head. "The other stuff can be replaced. But you, Carly, you're irreplaceable."

Will I ever find anyone to love me as much as my family does? I hope so.

"Where are you guys headed?" Gram asks with concern in her eyes. "There's a hurricane out there in case you didn't know." I can tell she's fearful. Gram always tries to make jokes when she's scared and they're usually a flop.

"The winds finally died down, so we were headed to the church to check on my daughter and the others," Beau says.

"Oh, Beau," Mom says, walking closer to him. She lifts his arm and touches his gauze-covered arm gently. "What happened?"

Beau will play it off as nothing, so I say, "While walking over here in the heart of the hurricane, he cut his arm badly while trying to climb over a downed tree in the middle of the road."

"I'm sorry, Beau," Pap says, solemnly. "I didn't mean for you to walk over here to check on Carly. I never should have called you when I was unable to reach her by phone."

"If I had known she was still on the island, I would have been over here long before the hurricane hit. Besides, it looks worse than it is. Your granddaughter got carried away with the gauze."

"The part about me overusing the gauze might be correct, but it still needs to be stitched up and you'll need an antibiotic for infection. I was using the gauze for padding to protect it from being bumped."

Mom smiles. "Good, I'm glad to see my daughter took care of you."

"She did. Thank you, Grace. And Carly."

"I need to get going. I left without saying anything to my daughter. I don't want to worry her longer than necessary. Carly, you should stay here with your family."

"It sure is warm in here," Gram says.

"We lost power several hours ago."

"Carly's right, the power's been off for some time. We have a generator at the church; we could all go there, but I'm not sure if it's safe to walk there. I know the road here was blocked by a fallen tree."

Pap says, "I'm not sure Sylvia and I can make that trip."

"You're probably right. I need to get back to the church and check on my Dad, Myra, and the rest of the congregation."

"I'm coming with you."

"Carly, I think it's best you stay here with your family."

"Beau, I'll be of better use there. I can keep the kids entertained. There's no telling how long they'll be there. I can also help and watch them during the clean-up."

"You make a valid point. The church could use your help."

"Be careful," Mom, Gram, and Pap say in unison.

"Let me get my bag of crafts and snacks."

Just as Beau said, there are several downed trees. The island no longer looks like paradise but more like a battlefield. It's sad to see such devastation.

"In a few weeks the island will look just as it did before the hurricane."

"Are you sure? How can you know that?"

"The island just suffered wind damage, and as bad as that is, we didn't get the storm surge."

"You're right. The flooding is the worst part of it all."

"As long as the trees only fell on the streets and yards, we can clean it up pretty easily. I just hope they missed people's homes."

We walk to the other side of the island and the damage is mostly branches, debris, with a few fallen trees. When we get to Beau's street, I ask, "Do you want to check on your house since we're here?"

"I'd like to at least assess the damage. You can wait for me here if you want," he says, releasing my hand from his grasp.

"No, I'm coming with you," I say, intertwining our fingers again.

We're both pleasantly surprised when his home and the others on his street are still intact with minimal damage to the houses or the landscape.

"This doesn't surprise me since the storm hit your end of the island first."

I notice lights on in someone's house. "It also looks like this end of the island still has electricity."

"This is good news. This could mean there are no transformers down. Maybe the power can be restored quickly."

***

Over the next few weeks, I spend a lot of time with Myra while Beau volunteers his time with the cleanup on the island. I offered to stay at the church with Myra during the day in hopes that others would know that childcare was available to those needing it while working on the damage from the hurricane. Mom and Gram thought it was a great idea and joined with me to keep the kids entertained and fed.

I needed the help especially when Jimmy started eating the crayons during craft time. Feeding him first didn't seem to matter. He still ate the art supplies, hungry or not. When his mother picked him up and his teeth were covered in a rainbow of colors, she didn't even ask what happened.

"Jimmy, you ate crayons again," she says as she walks him over to the sink.

I watch as she takes a white paper towel and starts wiping off his teeth. "I thought maybe he was hungry so we had snack time first."

"We've had him tested for vitamin deficiencies and he's fine."

"That was also a concern of mine."

"He takes after his father." She tosses the paper towel in the sink and holds Jimmy's hand. "His dad ate non-edible foods until only God knows how long."

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

I have a feeling little Jimmy may always be an only child.

Suddenly, I get a great idea for craft time tomorrow that may eliminate the problem and might solve the art supply shortage we could be facing in the near future.

I ask Myra, "Do you want to go to the grocery store with me?"

"Can we buy cookies?"

"That's a great idea. I was thinking maybe for craft time at the church, the kids can actually make their snacks instead of making crafts. Do you think the kids might like that?" Who better to ask than a child?

"Well," she thinks long and hard. "I think Jimmy might like eating the snacks better than the paint and crayons."

"Good, so do I."

I spend a lot of time with Beau and Myra at their house in the evenings. We haven't dated much, but we're nearly inseparable. I feel I've matured during my short time with Beau, and I'm thankful for that. I used to think it was the quality of the date that mattered. Restaurants over picnics. Box seats over bench seats at sporting events. But it isn't about that at all. It's about the quality time spent together that matters. Beau and I have a great time just taking a stroll down Shell Island admiring all the vendors and handmade crafts. Watching the sunrise in his backyard is also high on the list of things we love to do.

Later that night while spending time with my family, Pap says, "I saw where The Little Bookstore was for sale."

"Does Mrs. Thomas still own that?" Mom asks as she pours the gravy over her mashed potatoes.

Gram takes a sip of her water. "She does. I was in there talking to her earlier today."

"Why is she selling it?" I ask.

"She's getting older. She said the children are starting to make her nervous. She mentioned that she caught one little boy eating one of the pages he tore right from a book." It must be Jimmy. Poor kid. If publishers made edible books, I doubt the bookstore could keep enough in stock for him. "She also said the building was in great condition and it even has a lovely two-bedroom apartment on the second floor, right over the bookstore."

I look up from my plate of food and Mom, Gram, and Pap are all looking at me. Suddenly, I realize that this conversation is deeper than just a mention of a business for sale.

"With your sister now writing haiku, we thought it would be perfect for the two of you to buy and to also sell your work," Gram says.

"What in the..." Realizing I'm still trying to clean up my language for Beau, his daughter, the church, and for myself, I try it again. What's haiku?"

Sarah chimes in, "It's a type of a Japanese poem. A haiku is a poem with a five-syllable line, a seven-syllable line, and another five-syllable line. Here's a haiku I just wrote, or perhaps grabbed from the air:

"Poems are in the air

"All the time and everywhere

"Reach out and grab one."

"That's actually really good, but what are you going to do with those types of haiku poems?"

"I'm going to put them on bookmarks and greeting cards and coffee mugs and t-shirts and sell them so I can be rich and famous like my sister."

"I'm far from famous as you can clearly tell. You don't see people lining up and stopping me on the street for my autograph."

"That's true, but Tony said he couldn't keep your books in stock at the market."

"He stocks only two or three books at a time, so that doesn't really qualify me as a major best-seller now, does it?"

Everyone ignores my statement. I guess I sound ungrateful and I don't mean to. I'm neither an ungrateful nor an ingrateful person. I'm more embarrassed that my books are even available in the local market and that others think I'm a big deal. I'm proud of my success, but I'm also embarrassed when people refer to me as famous. I'm just Carly Jo Stewart.

"What do you think, Carly Jo and Sarah Jean? Do you think you both might be interested in buying and running the local bookstore together?" Pap asks.

I look over at my sister. This actually sounds pretty good, but can I be around my sister 24/7 without her driving me crazy? I love and miss her dearly, but I think I might need my space.

Gram fidgets with her napkin on her lap. "With Pap, your Mom, and me moving here full-time, we thought it'd be nice to have everyone together on the island."

I look from Pap, to Gram, to Mom. "You guys are moving here? To live? Full-time?" Everyone smiles and I couldn't be happier. Looking at my sister, I ask, "Did you know anything about this?"

"Hell, no. I'm just here for the dinner." Sarah sits up a little straighter. "I think it's wonderful that everyone's moving here permanently, but I'm not sure my calling is to run and operate a bookstore. I'm more of a pub or craft beer kind of gal."

This doesn't surprise me.

Mom holds Sarah's hand "We understand, Sarah. One day soon hopefully we'll all be living on Seashell Island permanently."

"What about you, Carly?" Pap says, smiling. "Are you feeling the pressure to move here with us?"

"I don't know if it's pressure as much as a great opportunity. This sounds almost perfect for me. When can we look at it?"

"Good, we have an appointment tomorrow with the local Realtor."
Chapter Eight

Beau

After Leslie's death, I wasn't sure how long it would take for my and Myra's lives to get back to normal. I know Myra never knew her mother, but I still feared there would be a sense of loss in her life. Deep down I always thought that a daughter needed a mother. A woman who knew things that a guy was clueless about. I've learned to braid hair and match Myra's clothes, but I knew sooner or later Myra would need a mother to help her with feminine concerns like dating boys, wearing bras, shaving her legs, and other things. I did not want to be the one to explain tampons, pads, or pantyliners to her. I also feared I would forever feel responsible for Leslie's addiction and death, even though I knew in my heart I had nothing to do with either, and I did everything in my power for her.

Carly helped me with putting things in perspective. Even though she didn't know Leslie, she knew the things I chose to share with her about my ex-wife. I'm thankful that she gave me a second chance from not calling her with an explanation for missing our date. I spoke to Sarah one day, and Sarah told me how much I hurt her sister. I knew I hurt her, but I didn't know how deeply. I don't think there's a man alive who realizes exactly what it means to a girl when he stands her up. It cuts deep into her soul and she asks why as if it's her fault. Why can't they just immediately blame the guy for being immature and foolish? I had no idea she could possibly think that she wasn't good enough for me. That night, I made a promise to God and to myself to never hurt Carly unnecessarily again. Of course, some things can't be helped and I can't control those things.

***

It's been about six weeks since Carly bought Mrs. Thomas' bookstore. She also bought the bookstore completely furnished along with the name of the little shop. Mrs. Thomas also wanted to sell the quaint two-bedroom apartment furnished but Carly wasn't having it. I overheard her say something to Sarah about it smelling like mothballs.

The first thing she did after the purchase was finalized was call the moving company to deliver the items she had stored in New York. It took working on the two-story building every day for six weeks to get everything move-in ready. Although she bought the bookstore fully furnished, she wanted it freshly painted inside and out, including the upstairs apartment; she also wanted new carpeting for the children's sitting areas, and new flooring and light fixtures. Then she had Sarah and Chloe paint and distress all of the wooden furniture and tables. I didn't know painted wood could look so good.

"Is it too much?" Carly asks, walking around the new and improved bookstore that is now complete with a coffee bar.

"No, not at all. This is just what the island needed," I admit.

"The bookstore with flare," Sarah teases. "I'm telling you, it's not too late to rename this baby."

"The grand opening's tomorrow. I think it's a little too late to rename it." Carly blew out a puff of air. "Are you saying you don't like the name The Little Bookstore?"

Sarah says, "I like it just fine. It reminds me of that movie with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks where they were both bookstore owners."

"The Shop Around the Corner," Chloe says.

"I loved the movie," Carly admits fondly. "And I loved the name of that little bookstore she owned."

"That's what this place reminds me of," Sarah says earnestly. "Minus the coffee bar."

"Thank you." Carly hugs her sister.

"You always did have great taste and this just proves it."

"It's cute, isn't it?"

"If only you sold craft beer, this place would be perfect." Sarah looks outside the bay window as if in deep thought. "You know, that's what the island's missing."

Another bar, I think to myself. In the Florida Keys, there's nearly a church for every bar. Maybe the island needs another church?

"There'll be no beer, wine, or any type of booze in this shop." Carly looks around the space proudly.

I sit down and watch the excitement in the room. Gram, Pap, Carly's mom Grace, Sarah, Chloe, my dad, and Myra are all here on the eve of her opening day. Carly looks over at me and smiles. She's absolutely stunning.

Sarah sees me and walks over to where I am. She carefully watches me as she takes a seat across the table from me. Smiling she says, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

I smile back, her smile is infectious. "I'm not Catholic, so I can't be a Father and I know for certain you're not my daughter, and this," I say, waving my hand in the air, "is not a confessional."

"That's true. But I have sinned and I need to ask for your forgiveness."

Still looking at her, I say, "You're forgiven."

"But you don't know what I've done."

This is true and I'm not sure I want to know. "Only God can forgive you."

"I know, but I owe you an apology."

"You do?" I've never known Sarah to do or say anything that would require an apology.

"Yes, and if I had known you and my sister would be dating, maybe I would have tried harder not to have impure thoughts about you the first time I saw you."

She had impure thoughts about me? "You're forgiven. Can we never talk about this again?"

"Fine by me." She stands and quickly walks away.

Myra walks over to me. "Daddy, did you see all the books Miss Carly has?"

"I did. Did you find something that you liked?"

"I did. Can we buy them?"

I take my daughter's hand and walk down the children's book aisle with her. On the table is a nice display of ballerina books.

"Are these the books you want, Myra?" She nods her head as she sits down at the table and admires the display. For props, Carly also added a tutu and a pair of ballet slippers. It dawns on me for the first time that my daughter might like to be a tiny dancer. My intention was to look quickly then head back to the front of the shop with the others. But I think my daughter has other plans. "Do you want Daddy to read one of these books to you?"

"Read this one, it's my favorite." I'm a Ballerina by Sue Fliess and Joey Chou.

I have no idea how she knows this is her favorite book. Well, the little girl on the cover does look like my daughter. Myra and I sit on the floor while she sits on my lap during the story. I read a page and then kiss her on her head. I love her more than myself. When the book is over, I ask, "Do you want to take dance classes?"

"Will I be pretty like the little girl on the cover?"

I flip the book over and see the front cover. The little girl is wearing a tutu and dance slippers, and her hair is in a bun.

"You'll be even more beautiful than her."

"Thank you, Daddy. I love you."

"You're welcome. I will always love you the most."

I look up and I see Carly wiping a tear from her cheek.

"I'm going to tell Grandpa I'm gonna be a ballerina."

"Okay, I'll be right there."

"I'm going to be a real ballerina," she says, running down the hallway past Carly.

"You'll be beautiful," Carly says.

Carly comes over and sits beside me on the floor. I wrap my arm around her and she cuddles into me.

"Do you happen to have an extra of every item in this display I could purchase from you?"

"She likes it that much?"

"She did and I also need to get her signed up for dance classes."

"I think I can help with that, too."

"You took dance as a child?"

"I did. I think I might still know some steps."

"Did I tell you how remarkable you are?"

"Every single day you tell me."

"It's not nearly enough."

Carly

I watch as Beau walks to the front of the shop before I pick up every item on the display table for Myra. Before I open tomorrow, I'll find another display to set out.

"So, do you have everything you need for tomorrow?" Mom asks.

"I hope I do. I guess I won't know until tomorrow."

"Well, we'll all be here if you need something."

"I hope it goes well. I didn't get nervous about it until just now."

"Shorty, you'll do great. Myra will give you more than enough business."

I know how much Myra likes the bookstore. After all, she's the one who chose most of the books for her age-group. But I also know she'll never be a paying customer as long as I own it. I bag up the display items into a canvas bag with the shop's logo on it for Beau to take home for Myra.

"I appreciate everyone's faith in me. I couldn't have done it without the support and love of everyone in this room." There's no way I could single out just one person when everyone was involved in this.

"Should we have an opening eve celebration dinner?" Pap asks.

Of course, everyone in the room agreed. "Lead the way and we'll follow," Sarah says.

Beau, Myra, and I are the last to leave. Beau stands at the door with me while I lock it. "I've never seen this place look so good."

"Thank you. You're not just saying that, are you?" I take Myra's hand and follow everyone down the street to the nearest diner.

"I'm not allowed to lie, Carly."

"Does God even frown on little white lies if it makes someone feel better?"

"A lie is a lie, but our God is very forgiving." He takes Myra's other hand as he holds the tote bag with the book display in his other hand. "But I speak the truth about the shop."

"Thank you. I hope it's charming enough to bring in the tourists and the locals."

We walk past a group of women tourists who stop and peek inside the closed shop's window.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Since I met Beau, I've been working on my faith. I believe God is responsible for all the wonderful changes in my life. I've made changes and although I'm a work in progress, I'm getting to be the person that I'm proud of. I'm much happier living a wholesome life.

***

I wake up earlier than expected. The shop is located right on the main strip of the island. Shell Lane is where most of the shops and street vendors are located. The apartment has a small balcony that overlooks Shell Lane and the array of stores. Across the street are more stores and the great blue Atlantic Ocean is just past that. The view is spectacular and quiet this time of morning. Although the shop isn't directly on the water, it is within viewing distance.

I have my coffee as I watch the night turn to day. The early morning fog is now gone and the day looks to be promising. It's a perfect day to open the bookstore.

A small part of me wishes that Mrs. Thomas could see her old shop, and then a part of me is afraid she'd feel bad seeing the changes that I made. As soon as I closed on the building, she left the island to move in with her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren who live in Tennessee. I'm sure she'll enjoy the different views of the mountain and spending more time with her family.

Beau sends me a good morning text.

Beau: Good morning, Beautiful.

With those words, my heart skips to a rock-n-roll beat.

Carly: Good morning to you.

Beau: Did you sleep well?

Carly: What's sleep?

Beau: I'm sorry.

Carly: It's all right. It feels good to be excited about something.

Beau: Do you have time for breakfast with Myra and me before you open at ten?

Carly: Honestly, I think I'm too nervous to eat.

Beau: I was afraid of that. Let me get myself and Myra ready, then I'll bring you over some muffins and fresh fruit for later.

He is always so thoughtful.

Carly: Don't make a special trip to the fruit stand. I have some yogurt and frozen fruit in the apartment I can make a smoothie with later.

He doesn't acknowledge my last statement.

Beau: Myra and I will see you soon. Don't open the shop without us there.

Carly: Don't worry. I need someone to hold my hand.

I only half tease. I'm not so much nervous as I am afraid of failing.

Beau: I'll hold your hand as long as you need me to. I'll see you soon.

Carly: I'll be here.

I shower and then do my hair and makeup before deciding to wear a summer floral dress and white sandals. I definitely want a relaxed island feel, but not too relaxed. I cringe at the thought of cut-offs and bare feet.

Nervously, I check everything in the shop to make sure it's perfect. I add nearly the same dance display on the bare table that I had earlier. If Myra loved it and wanted everything on the table, maybe another little girl will also love it as much, forcing her mother to buy every book on display. I also bought some props to sell as well. Some ballerina slippers, tutus, baseballs, mitts, and wooden bats, and also some beachy items like sand buckets and shovels. It was so much fun shopping for the props that Sarah, Chloe, and I also bought some adult props just for women. Sunglasses, sun hats, straw beach bags and anything that says beachy and relaxing. I also added a nice display for the religious materials I'll be selling. Bibles, inspirational and self-help books, some inspirational quotes on laminated cards, and several bookmarks with Bible verses. Sarah and Chloe also made up some poems we put on bookmarks and stationary. Beau helped me a lot in that area. I had some ideas, but he's an avid reader of not just the Bible but inspirational and self-help books as well.

Beau and Myra arrive first. I greet them at the private entrance of my apartment. He looks so not the preacher that he is. I love the dressed-up preacher look he often wears, but casual sexy Beau in khaki shorts, tan flip flops, and a white linen shirt might possibly be my favorite. Myra is wearing a white shirt, white shorts with a purple tutu over her shorts. I immediately recognize it as the one I gave her last night from the display table.

He removes his sunglasses before he kisses me sweetly and softly. "Are you nervous?"

"Who, me?" I ask nonchalantly. He raises a brow as if daring me to tell a lie. "Yes, I am."

"We're here for you," he says before stepping aside so I can greet Myra.

I kiss and hug her next. "You look incredibly pretty today."

"Thank you, do you like my skirt?" she asks as she twirls around.

"I love that skirt." I think Beau was very smart to have her wear a pair of white shorts beneath it in addition to tights. But then again, I'm not surprised. I once saw her in a one-piece swimsuit where she was wearing a tee-shirt over it. Beau's come a long way during the time we've dated and I'm grateful when he listens to me when I offer parenting suggestions. Not that I know what I'm doing, but I do know some things about girls that he doesn't. The rest of it we're figuring out together.

Myra hands me a card.

"Is this for me?"

"It is. Daddy said we should get you something nice."

"This is very nice, thank you."

"He also bought you flowers," she says, walking further into the apartment. I watch as she disappears into the second bedroom I set up for her complete with a single bed, dresser, and table and chairs. I was hoping and expecting that some nights she may stay with me with or without her dad. I knew he would never share a bed with me, but he might consider sleeping on the couch during late nights of watching movies.

Looking up at Beau, I ask, "You bought me flowers?"

"We did. However, it was supposed to be a surprise. They'll be delivered to you later today."

"That was nice."

"I also picked up some fresh fruit and muffins so you'll have something to munch on later, as I already know you won't be eating anything substantial."

"Thank you, Beau. That's very sweet of you."

He hugs me again and holds me close to his heart. I silently thank God for bringing him into my life.

He says, "I wish I could do more."

"Do more?" I ask, pulling away from him. "What do you mean? You do everything for me."

"You deserve more than I can give you. So, I bought a measly card, flowers, and some fresh fruit. It hardly seems like enough."

I look him in the eyes so he can see my sincerity. "All I want is you and Myra. Everything else is a bonus."

Silence lingers between us as we stare into each other's eyes. "I love you so much, Carly Jo Stewart."

It's the first time these words have been spoken between us. I couldn't think of a more perfect time.

"I love you, Beauregard Anthony Romano."

He pulls me to him to seal our words of love with a kiss. This time the kiss is deeper, more intimate. I feel the heat rise as I cling to him for more. He deepens the kiss and I gladly accept it. Breathing hard, our kiss becomes harder, faster, more intense. He quickly stops and pulls away breathlessly. This is unusual for Beau to get carried away. Me, on the other hand... I don't have the restraint he has, but I do respect his position in the church. I try hard not to get carried away with kisses, as that's all we've done. We'll never have sex before marriage, but during times like these, a little fooling around might be nice.

He wipes his mouth off with his hands as he tries to catch his breath.

I try to think of anything else; however, my needs are in the forefront of my brain. I touch my still swollen lips. That kiss. If that's a sample of what's to come, I definitely want more. If I had never had sex before, I might not know what I am missing. But I have and I do and it makes me want more with Beau.

"That," he says with short, uneven breaths, "can never happen again."

Unable to speak, I nod instead.

He walks into the bathroom and I go into the kitchen to splash water on my neck and arms to extinguish the fire burning in my core.

After several minutes he walks out of the bathroom looking more in control than he did when he went in.

We have just enough time to sit down and have some fruit and muffins together at the dining room table before we head downstairs just before ten. It doesn't go unnoticed that we eat in silence. I decide now is a good time to open the card he and Myra got me. The card is a picture of a man and a little girl with long dark braids. He's holding a bouquet of flowers and she's holding a sign that says, "Congratulations." I open the card and it says, "Good luck today. Love, Myra and Beau. XOXO."

"Thank you," I say, closing the card. "I'm going to put it in the shop behind the register on the wall."

"I picked it out. Daddy said it was a nice card."

Looking down at Myra, I say. "It's the perfect card and I also thought the little girl looked a lot like you."

She smiles brightly, "She's cute, isn't she?"

"She is very cute."

When we get downstairs, our families are just parking their cars. I'm surprised to see Tony walking across the street from the market.

"Tony, you made it!"

"How could I miss Shorty's grand opening?"

"Who's running your market?" I ask through a smile.

"I put a sign on the door that said I'm attending the grand opening of the bookstore and they wouldn't want to miss it."

I hug him. "Thank you. You're the best."

Sarah and Chloe carry in a basket of products. I peek inside and I love everything in the basket. There's some WoodWick vanilla-bean-scented candles, Bath and Body Works lotions and body sprays, some gift cards, make-up, perfumes, wax warmers and wax scents, and even a handbag.

Excitedly, I reach for the basket of goodies. "Are these for me?"

Sarah jerks the basket away. "No."

"It's not a welcome grand opening gift for me?" I say with disappointment evident in my voice and on my face.

"No, but that would have been a good idea," Sarah says, looking at Chloe.

"Then what is it?"

"We decided to do a give-a-way every hour on the hour for your grand opening."

"Oh, Sarah and Chloe. That's a good idea." My sister and her friend came through with an amazing idea to draw in customers.

"Winners need to be present to win," Chloe says proudly.

"Now you're talking. That's a great way to keep the customers in the store shopping. Once they lay eyes on the prizes they could win, they'll all stick around hoping to win something."

Pap walks in carrying a basket identical to the one Sarah and Chloe has, but this one has beautifully wrapped presents with silk ribbons and bows tucked inside. My eyes get big when I think this basket must be for me.

"Don't get your hopes up," Sarah says, sternly.

"Really? None of those are for me." Surely, my sister would have bought me something.

"Okay, this one is yours," Sarah says, holding up her basket. "But you can't have it until the end of the day. We're using it for advertisements on what customers could win, and these are the wrapped gifts we'll distribute hourly as prizes."

I hug my sister and her friend. "I knew you'd get me something."

"Thank Chloe. I wanted to keep it for myself."

"Now that, I can believe. Thank you, Chloe," I say, hugging her. "And you, too, sis."

She walks into the other room. "Yeah, yeah."

I hug Mom, Gram, and Pap next.

"It's showtime, Shorty."

I look at the clock and then at the long line of eager customers outside. "Wish me luck," I say, flipping over the "Open" sign and unlocking the door.

Beau

I stay as long as I can for Carly's grand opening. The shop is fairly small and it fills up quickly. I let Myra look around and allow her to look at books and choose one to buy. We sit in the corner of the room as I read to her. I've always read to Myra as my mother always read to me.

"Is this the book you want, Myra?"

"Yep."

"How about we buy this book, then have some lunch together?"

"Okay, Daddy."

Once the book is purchased, we head across the street for some lunch. I want to be close enough that I can still see what is going on in the bookstore. Myra and I sit outside beneath a red and white umbrella.

She orders a cheeseburger and fries from the children's menu while I order the same off the adult menu. We also splurge on vanilla milkshakes with our meal. Myra colors on her children's menu while I watch the florist deliver a bouquet of lilies to Carly at the bookstore. I watch through the glass window as she inhales the fragrance from the arrangement. While sitting here with my daughter, I admire Carly's beauty and grace from a distance.

After lunch, Myra and I walk to the market. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, Beauregard. I thought you and Myra would still be at the grand opening."

"We were. It's a bit crowded so we had lunch down the street."

"Yep, and we had a milkshake, too," Myra says. Myra is a big fan of milkshakes.

Dad picks up Myra and tickles her. "Grandpa's girl's getting so big."

"Yep, and I'm almost four," she says, holding up four fingers.

"I was wondering if she could stay here with you for an hour or so?"

"Sure, she can stay all day if she wants." He watches me since I rarely need a sitter. "You got plans?"

"No plans, I thought I might do some light shopping since it looks like everyone on the island's inside the bookstore."

When I walk outside I run into Pap, Gram, and Grace, Carly's mom. "Is everything all right at the bookstore?"

"Yeah, it's great. We needed some air so we came over here," Gram says, waving a flyer in front of her face.

"Still crowded, huh?"

"Barely room to walk, let alone stand." Pap smiles. "I think the shop's going to do well."

"Do you have a moment? I have something to ask you all."
Chapter Nine

Carly

"I don't know what I expected, but this wasn't it." I kick off my shoes and prop my feet up on the coffee table. "It was crazy down there today."

"After a month of being opened, you would think business would have died down by now."

"Yes. I'm not complaining, Beau, but if it keeps up, I'll need to hire someone to help out."

Beau smiles. "This is great news."

"It is, but I wanted something I could work at leisurely."

He laughs. "A leisurely job, you say?"

I toss a down-filled pillow across the room at him and he catches it and says, "News flash... if it's leisurely, it's called a vacation. If it's work, it's called a job."

"I know this," I say, catching the pillow he tosses back at me. "Being on the island, I was hoping to mix business with pleasure."

He stands and walks over to where I'm sitting. "That doesn't work for the working class." He bends down and kisses me before heading to the door. "I'm going home to shower, and I suggest you do the same."

"Are you insinuating something, Mr. Romano?"

"Never. However, I will be here in an hour or so as we have dinner reservations for seven and it'll take some time to get there from here."

"I'll be ready, but you never did say where we're going."

"It's a surprise. You'll see when we get there."

I watch as he walks out the door, locking it behind him.

The time I spend with Beau is never enough. He's not like anyone I've ever met before. We've never fought and I doubt we ever will. Maybe a few disagreements, but not the full-on fight that Spencer and I would have.

I already have my clothes ready and laid out as this is something he has had planned for nearly a week. I shower, shave, and sit on the balcony while I apply my makeup. An hour isn't enough time to do all the things I'd like to do to get ready for a romantic night with my man. Sarah and I even went out yesterday to have our nails done.

While Mom, Pap, and Gram have moved to the island full-time, Sarah hasn't yet committed to the move. But she does spend every weekend and holidays here. I hope eventually she'll leave her job in the city and will settle on a less-busy life on Seashell Island.

Today, I'm thankful for my naturally curly hair. There's no way I could straighten it in the hour I had to get ready. After I dress, I apply some clear lip gloss, put on diamond-studded earrings, and then pull the sides of my hair back.

The sleeveless black dress with a scalloped sweetheart neckline falls just above my knees. This isn't something I would wear to church, but it's perfect for a romantic evening with Beau. I decided on a strappy, black, sexy, three-inch heel minus the stockings.

I stand and admire myself in the mirror. My toned, tanned legs look amazing, if I say so myself. My plan is to catch Beau walking up to the apartment. I want to see what's he's wearing. If I'm overdressed, I want to change before he sees me.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. I jerk my head in the direction of the door then to the wall clock over the fireplace mantel. He's early! He's never early.

"Who is it?" I call out. I roll my eyes at myself. I know who it is.

"Hi, Carly. It's me."

"Coming."

What if I'm overdressed? He'll feel bad and I'll look stupid.

I slightly open the door so I can peek through the opening with the chain lock still attached. The only thing I see is a bouquet of white lilies.

He bends over, unintentionally blocking his clothing with the bouquet of fresh flowers. "Can I come in?" He smiles.

I wait for him to move so I can see what he's wearing, but he doesn't.

"Sure." Quickly, I say a prayer before opening the door wide enough for him to walk through.

"I thought you weren't going to let me in there for a minute."

When I see he's wearing a black suit, with a crisp white shirt and black tie, I'm very happy with my decision about my clothing choices. I stand taller with more confidence.

"I just had to make certain it was you." I bite the inside of my lip to keep from adding to the already told lie.

"Here, these are for you." He steps closer and hands me the beautiful bouquet.

I smell the flowers at the same time I inhale his cologne. Suddenly, I wish they made flowers that smell like his cologne. "Thank you, you smell wonderful." I take the flowers and realize what I just said. "They smell wonderful. Not you, but the flowers." He smiles and I suddenly feel like an idiot. "You smell good, too, and I have no idea why I'm suddenly acting like a twelve-year-old girl meeting Justin Bieber for the first time."

I take the flowers and walk into the kitchen thankful that the apartment is not an open floor plan.

Exhaling, I try to calm my nerves.

"Did you just put me in the same category as Justin Bieber?" He smiles, letting me know he feels that's a compliment.

It was. Ignoring his question, I say, "Let me put these in water and then I'll be ready to go."

"You look stunning this evening." His voice is husky and sexy.

I look over my shoulder and say, "Thank you. You do, too. I like the suit you're wearing."

He walks over and caresses my shoulder lightly with his thumb. "Is that a new dress?"

Goosebumps suddenly cover my skin. "It is."

"I'm not sure how I'll be able to keep my eyes off of you this evening."

Instantly, I feel like a melted piece of chocolate. All gooey and mushy. I have no idea how I'll be able to walk out of here this evening.

***

On the way to Charlotte, I ask Beau exactly where we're going this evening.

"To dinner." The playfulness is evident on his face.

"I know that, but where?"

"It's a surprise."

"I can tell you put a lot of thought into this."

"Thank you." He looks over at me and holds my stare. "I hope it's special enough."

I can hear the doubt in his tone. "Beau, we could have stayed home and eaten cold pizza out of the box and that would have been special as long as you were there."

"How do you do that?"

"What? Eat cold pizza?"

He laughs. "No. How do you say things like that and mean it?"

I hold his hand and intertwine our fingers. "Because I mean them. It doesn't matter what we eat or where we dine, as long as you're there, that's all that counts."

"So, if we turn around right now, you'll be fine with eating bologna sandwiches and American cheese on white bread?"

I would, but I'd rather not. Bologna is made out of the body parts that animals are least proud of. American cheese is an atrocity. Why people eat white bread when they can eat brown bread I'll never know. Why Americans get fat eating such bad food I'll never know. Seriously, if you're going to get fat, at least eat good food... like cheese-flavored air puffs. "We got dressed up and everything. Seems like a waste to turn around now."

"Good, because I think you'll like what I have planned for us."

"Thank you for planning such a special evening."

"You're welcome."

We pull into the parking lot of Lake Norman and in front of us is a gorgeous yacht. My First Fair Lady is written on the side.

"Don't get too excited, I didn't buy her." My smile now turns into a laugh. I know he doesn't have that kind of money. "However, it is ours for a few hours." He smiles when he sees my excitement. "I know the owner and he's offered to take us out on the lake for a few hours."

"You do and he did?" Clearing my throat, I try it again. "We're having dinner on that?"

"We are."

"Just us two?"

He puts the car in park and removes the keys from the ignition. "Us, and the captain and his two-person crew. I need someone to drive the boat while I give my date my undivided attention."

My heart warms at his thoughtfulness. I lean in and kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Stay in the car while I get your door."

We walk up to the yacht holding hands and are greeted by a woman dressed in black slacks and a white blouse.

"Good evening, Mr. Romano, Miss Stewart. The yacht's scheduled to leave on time. There's drinks and refreshments on the top deck if you want to head up there."

"Thank you, Lacey. Is it okay if I show Miss Stewart around first?"

"The captain said to give you free rein of the vessel. Please, make yourself at home and nothing is off limits except perhaps the galley. The chef likes to work uninterrupted. He's very temperamental." She tries to conceal her smile.

Beau leans into me and whispers, "The chef's her husband."

"That explains a lot."

"We understand, Lacey. Thank you."

Lacey disappears around the corner as we walk into the yacht. It is everything I ever imagined a yacht would be.

Beau

Carly's expression is what I had hoped it would be. The excitement on her face is all I need for this evening. I know I've made the right decision for our dinner date.

"Do you want to look around?"

"Yeah, I'd love to."

I give her the grand tour before we make our way upstairs.

"Are other guests on the yacht with us?"

"Other than the captain, the cook and Lacy, no, just us. Why?"

"There's some swimming suits lying on the bed."

I look at the new swimsuits with the tags still attached. "Those are for us for later. I bought them earlier just in case you wanted to go swimming or get into the Jacuzzi later. I asked your sister about the size you wear."

"There's a pool and a hot tub on here?" she asks, looking around.

I take her hand. "There is. The pool's located on the lower deck. Let's check it out first."

She plucks my trunks and her one-piece swimsuit off the bed. "We might need these later."

Once we see every level of the yacht, we head upstairs. She says, "I've never seen anything so extravagant before. You really did think of everything."

It makes me feel good that she realizes the time I spent in planning for this evening. "I hope so, but I'm sure there's something I forgot."

"If you did, I don't think I'll notice."

I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss it. "Thank you."

The engines roar as they come to life.

Lacey comes from around the corner and says, "Would you like to have a seat and start on your drinks and appetizers?"

"Sounds wonderful."

We follow Lacey and sit near the back or the stern of the boat. She picks up a bottle from the ice bucket and pops the cork. Carly's eyes get big.

"Don't get too excited; it's just sparkling cider."

"I wasn't." I know she's trying to refrain from excessive sinning, but I also know she'll mess up time to time. After all, none of us is perfect.

Once the sparkling cider is poured, Lacey disappears. Carly looks behind her. "Where does she come from?"

"She's been asked to be seen as little as possible. I want tonight to feel like it's just you and me." I pick up my crystal champagne glass filled with non-alcoholic bubbly and hand Carly hers. "Shall we make a toast?"

"We definitely should."

"Here's to the woman of my dreams." I see a blush on her cheeks that wasn't there earlier.

"To my soulmate." She clinks her glass to mine and we both sip.

As the boat picks up speed, we enjoy the breeze while having tropical fruit and sparkling cider while watching the waves crash into the shoreline. Sitting together on the two-person couch, she rests her head on my chest. "This is perfect."

"Thank you, but it's just the beginning." And I'm not talking about the date.

"I don't ever want it to end." I have a feeling she isn't just talking about the date either.

I kiss her forehead. "It doesn't have to, baby."

We have dinner in the formal dining room, and then we have dessert and coffee on the uppermost deck as we watch the sunset. I hope to take advantage of the private jacuzzi near the back later.

She leans up from the recliner to remove her heels.

"Here, let me help you."

I kneel down in front and carefully place one hand behind her calf, raising her leg slightly off the ground. An instrumental version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" comes on over the surround-sound. Music's been playing throughout the night, but this is the only song by name that I can recall that's played all evening. Carefully I undo her delicate buckle on her shoe before sliding it off. Then I slowly repeat the process on the other foot. Her eyes darken at this intimate moment.

When the last shoe's off, while I'm still holding her leg in my hand, she leans in and kisses me. It's soft, slow, and passionate. Placing one hand on her face, I caress her cheek with my thumb. She moans as she wraps her arms around me. I don't pull away but I slow the kiss. Not because I want to, but because I have to. If only I wasn't a man of God.

When the kiss ends, I search her eyes. It's as if we're speaking to each other without saying a single word.

I finally say, "I love you so much, Carly." Before she says anything, I pull the velvet box out of my inside jacket pocket. Tears stream down her cheeks before I even say the words. I've always been honest with Carly and I plan to always be. "I can tell you 'I love you' all day, but I thought the best way to show you how much I love you is to marry you. That is if you'll have me as your husband." Suddenly, I realize I never opened the box to show her the ring. I quickly fumble with it and hold it out for her to see. Through her tears, I'm not sure she can see me or the ring. I take it that her tears mean yes. I take her hand, and we both stand.

"Carly, I promise to love you every minute of every day."

"I love you, Beau." We seal our words with a kiss that's just as good putting the ring on her finger. Well, almost as good.

After the tears and the kiss, I ask, "Since you haven't answered me, should we see if this ring fits?" She laughs so I decide to add a little humor. "Not to add any unnecessary pressure to your answer, but this ring is non-refundable."

"Yes, nothing would make me happier."

I slowly slide the ring on her slim finger and it's a perfect fit. I asked her Pap, Gram, and her mother the day of the grand opening if I could marry Carly. They seemed pleased that I was ready to move into the next step of our relationship. Grace also gave me Carly's ring size, which was a plus when buying her ring. She leans in and kisses me. This time there are no tears, just love and intimacy.

When we finally end the kiss, she says breathlessly. "You don't want a long engagement, do you?"

Trying to catch my own breath, I say. "How soon can you throw a wedding together?" I'm a man of God, but I'm also human and it takes all I have to walk away from her at the end of the day.

"Is a week soon enough?"

"Perfect."
Chapter Ten

Carly

Beau and I married on his private beach outside his home on Seashell Island. It was small, intimate, and perfect. It's amazing how fast you can plan a wedding when you have to. Well, we didn't have to, but we wanted to.

The next day after we got engaged we told our families over lunch that we wanted to marry in a week, and no one seemed surprised. They knew the reason was intimacy or the lack thereof, but they also knew we deeply loved each other and didn't see a reason to wait.

Because I didn't wear a white wedding gown, that sped the process up.

Beau wore a white linen shirt and matching pants and we both decided to go barefoot. I wore a pale-yellow tea-length sweetheart neckline sundress with white lacey barefoot beach sandals.

Myra was our flower girl, Sarah was my maid of honor, and Beau's dad was his best man. Since Pap is already an ordained minister, it seemed only fitting for him to marry us.

The entire church's congregation was in attendance although we wanted something small.

We would have married in the church, but a few of the older members voiced their concern since this wasn't the first marriage for Beau. Beau seemed okay with it as he just wanted to progress quickly with the wedding plans. God's everywhere and it doesn't matter where you are because He's there with you.

The week of the wedding, Beau and I mostly stayed away from each other. The temptation was too much. It seemed that every time we saw each other, the air around us immediately heated up twenty degrees. It was just easier keeping our distance than fighting the urge.

Our honeymoon was a weekend alone at the Ritz Carlton in Charlotte. We brought clothes, but we didn't need them. We never left the room. Two days alone with Beau was enough. I could barely walk out of the hotel when we checked out. I'd hate to think what a week alone with him would have been like. I smile at the memory. There's something to be said about waiting for your wedding night. Waiting was definitely worth it.

Then, we took Myra on a five-day trip to Disney World. She loved it. Our wedding, our honeymoon, and the marriage is a family affair, with Myra being the center of it.

It's been nearly three months since the wedding, and everything for Beau, Myra, and me is falling into place. Today, I drop off Myra with my mom while I work at the bookstore and Beau works on his sermon for Sunday.

The bookstore has taken off. Not just with the locals but also with the tourists. They love getting new books to read while soaking up the rays or just relaxing poolside at their vacation home.

The bell over the door rings, alerting me I have a customer. Walking out of the back room I'm surprised and happy to see my sister. Then I immediately see the sadness in her eyes.

"Oh, Sarah. What's the matter?" I hate to see her crying. I take her hand and lead her to one of the seating areas. Pulling a few tissues from the Kleenex container, I hand her a few.

"I need a place to stay. Is the apartment upstairs still vacant?"

"Yes. It's been empty since Beau and I married. What happened?" I also want to know why she wouldn't go to the family beach house. It might be because Gram, Pap, and Mom moved into it full-time. I love them, but I'm not sure I could live with them.

"I just needed to get away and I didn't know where to go." She laughs a sad laugh. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"You didn't want to go to the beach house?" She shakes her head vigorously. "You're my sister and you can stay as long as you want."

She leans up and hugs me. "Thank you." She sniffles and dries her eyes. "Will Beau mind? I'll pay rent, help out in the bookstore. Hell, I'll even watch Myra for y'all."

"Oh, Sarah. He won't care and you don't have to do any of those things. Just get to feeling better and maybe you can tell me what's going on."

"Thank you."

"Did something happen between you and Chloe?"

She looks at me in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Did you guys break-up or have a fight?"

"Carly?" she says slowly. "Do you think Chloe and I are a couple?"

"Aren't you?"

She laughs a genuine laugh. "No."

"I just thought since you spent so much time together."

"Well, I imagine you're not the only one who thinks that." She falls back into the leather tan sofa. "Why didn't you tell me you thought I was a lesbian?"

"Because it didn't bother me. I just saw how happy you were and that's all I cared about."

"And Beau? Does he think his sister-in-law's a lipstick lesbian, too?"

I can tell Sarah's already feeling better. "If he does, he's never said anything."

"And Gram, Pap, and Mom. Do they also think I'm a muff diver?"

I raise my hands and shake my head, trying to conceal a laugh. "I have no idea. If you want to know, you need to ask them. But you might want to change your wording, I don't think they'll know what a muff diver is."

"I think I'll leave that one alone." She adds, "I'm feeling better. Let's go to Jo's Tiki Hut for some tacos and margaritas."

Standing to get my purse from behind the counter, I say, "I'll have the fish tacos." I change the sign to "Out to Lunch" before locking up.

"And I'll have the margaritas," Sarah adds.

Over dinner she tells me that her ex-boyfriend Slade stopped by her apartment and wanted to get back with her. I can't say if I ever saw my sister sad. I'm sure I have but not like this.

"What did you tell him?"

"That I'm fine with being his friend, but I wasn't interested in anything more."

"Good for you. What did he say to that?"

"He was sad, which made me sad."

I look at her and there's something she's not telling me.

"You didn't sleep with him, did you?"

"I may have."

"Why would you do that?"

"It was break-up sex. People do it all the time."

"No, they don't. Couples have make-up sex, not break-up sex."

She laughs and it makes me laugh. "Personally, I liked the break-up sex better."

Beau

If I knew how great it would be with Carly, I would have asked her to marry me the very first day we reconnected. Everything about her completes Myra and me. Life is good in the Romano home.

Myra spent last night with her grandpa, and this morning I made Carly her favorite breakfast. Just as I'm dishing out blueberry pancakes onto her plate, she turns green. I'm talking the shade of olives. Holding her hand to her mouth, she takes off running to the bathroom.

Concern takes over me as I run after her. She tries to shoo me away as she heaves into the commode. Standing closely, I hold her hair away from her face offering comfort.

"Beau, please get out. I don't want you to see me like this!"

Ignoring her plea, I stand close. "I'm not going anywhere."

When she's done I hand her a cold washcloth and then a glass of cold water.

"Thank you," she says, patting the cold cloth on her forehead, cheeks, and neck.

"Should I call Sarah to run the shop for you today?"

She shakes her head quickly. "No, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? You don't look fine."

"It's nothing. At church on Wednesday a few of the kids had the sniffles. I probably just caught whatever germ they had."

Her coloring has now returned to normal.

"Do you feel like trying to eat something?"

"I can try."

"Let's see how you feel after breakfast before we make a decision to call your sister or not."

I take her hand and she leads me into the kitchen, where her face quickly morphs into the shade of Shrek. She takes off running into the bathroom again. Instead of chasing after her, I call Sarah.

"Hey, Beau," she answers with more pep in her voice than she's had in a few days.

"Good morning, feeling better?"

"Much better, thank you. What's up?"

"Your sister seems to be coming down with something, and I was hoping you wouldn't mind too much running the shop until I can get over there later this morning."

"No, I'm glad to help. She isn't pregnant, is she?"

"What?" Pregnant? We never talked about having children. We also never talked about not having children either. "What?" I ask again.

"You know, bun in the oven, with child, you're gonna be a daddy... again."

"I gotta hang up."

I sit down with a smile on my face. A baby. Nothing would make me happier. Is Carly pregnant? Is she on the pill? We never discussed this. We were abstinent prior to marriage so there was no need for her to be taking any contraceptives. Then the proposal and marriage happened so quickly. There wasn't time for her to get put on anything. Most contraceptives take thirty days to be in your system before they work.

I sit here for I have no idea how long, leaving Carly alone in the restroom. When she walks out she's covered in a blanket and carrying a wastebasket.

"Maybe I should call Sarah. I'm not feeling so well."

"I already called her. She said she'll open the shop."

"Thank you, Beau," she says, sitting at the other end of the couch. "I hope Myra doesn't catch it."

There's a knock at the door, but when I stand to get it Sarah walks in.

"The whole island is going to be talking now," she says as she makes her way into the living room.

Carly sits up a little straighter. "Why, what did you do now?"

"I just went to Tony's market and bought this." She pulls out a pregnancy test from the brown paper bag. "I go in there all the time and not one person is in there. Today, there must have been fifteen people shopping."

Carly looks at Sarah and then at the pregnancy test in her hand. "Mom, Pap, and Gram are going to kill you."

Sarah looks at me before looking back to Carly. "Why?"

"Because you're so irresponsible. A pregnancy? Really? Do you even know who the father is?"

Sarah keeps a straight face and says, "It's Beau."

"Beau?"

Sarah tosses the pregnancy test across the room and Carly catches it midflight.

"This isn't for me. It's for you." Carly looks at me in shock. I remain silent. Maybe I'm in shock, too. "You have morning sickness, don't you?" Sarah asks still standing.

"No. I'm not feeling well. The kids were sniffling at church on Wednesday during choir practice." Carly tugs on her blanket a little tighter.

"I see." Sarah sits down in the chair nearest to Carly. "And are you sniffling?"

My eyes are on Carly. I haven't noticed her cough or sniffle.

"No."

I can't tell what the look on her face is. Fear? Worry? Dread? It sure doesn't look like happiness or excitement.

"Are you on the pill?" Sarah asks at once.

Carly's eyes close as she shakes her head. I scoot over to Carly and take her hand in mine. When she opens them, she looks sorrowful.

"I didn't think about it. Beau, this is my fault. It was my responsibility and it didn't even cross my mind."

"Your fault?"

She starts crying and I hold her closely. "Don't cry, Carly. Nothing would make me happier than to have a baby with you."

"But now. So soon after our marriage? Shouldn't this have been planned or at least talked about first?"

I wipe the tears from her cheek and kiss her nose.

"That would have been ideal, but a pregnancy is still a miracle, planned or not." I stroke her hand with my thumb. "This could all be for nothing. Go take the test then we'll know if you'll need an obstetrician for contraception or for prenatal care."

Carly looks over at her sister. "Couldn't you have been more sensitive?"

"I'm sorry. Even you have to admit this is exciting." Carly glares at her sister. "Not even a little bit?"

Carly looks at me and I make sure to smile. Since it is a genuine smile, it comes naturally. "You have to admit this is pretty exciting."

"It's scary, that's what this is." She stands, drops the blanket before carrying the box into the bathroom. "Here goes nothing."

Once she's out of hearing distance, Sarah says, "This is so freaking exciting."

"How long does that test take?"

"Three minutes. I read the box on the way over here. But seriously, your dad was throwing me all kinds of looks while I was paying for this."

"Don't worry about Dad. I'll clear it up with him. Somehow." I think about Carly. "The look on your sister's face is a bit alarming."

"She takes after our dad. He was a planner. Mom said he planned everything and he even tried to have the doctor schedule a cesarean section before we were born so he could plan precisely for our deliveries." She laughs. "We were both born naturally." She looks over at me with a friendly smile. "She'll be all right."

Sarah and I wait quietly until Carly walks out of the restroom. "False alarm," she says, looking relieved. "It's negative."

I try to look happy about the news but the truth is, I'm disappointed. I would have liked to have another child in the house. Carly comes over and sits on my lap as she keeps one hand behind her back.

Sarah stands. "I really thought you were pregnant." Walking to the door to leave, she says, "Maybe next month." I hear the door open and she says, "You must be coming down with something. Stay home and I'll run the shop today and until you get better." I hear the door shut before anyone can reply.

I look at Carly and she shows me the pregnancy test strip in her hand. I take it and it has a red plus symbol. "Is this positive?" Plus means positive. "Are you pregnant?" I ask hopefully.

She smiles. "We are."

"We're having a baby?"

"We are." She smiles.

"You didn't want your sister to know?"

"Not until you and I had a chance to let it sink in."

Love fills my heart. "I'm thrilled. I love you and I couldn't be happier." I cup her face in both my hands and kiss her gently.

"I love you, Beau."

"I love you, Carly."

"So, you think you're up to the challenge, Mr. Romano?"

"I'm definitely up to this challenge, Mrs. Romano."

"It's not what we expected, is it?" she says, cuddling into me.

Leaning back into the chair, I wrap my arms around her. "Life isn't what we expected. When do you think we should tell our parents?"

Sarah walks from around the corner with a huge smile on her face. "I knew it."

I laugh internally. I should have walked her out to make sure she left. I never imagined she wouldn't leave when she said she was going to. Then again, we are talking about Sarah — she isn't like other people.

"I thought you left," Carly says sternly.

Sarah smiles, taunting her sister. "That's what I wanted you to believe. And I thought you said you weren't pregnant?"

"That's what I wanted you to think. Is it too much for Beau and me to have some time to process this news in private?"

Sarah hugs her sister affectionately. "This is so exciting and I love you. I'll be leaving now so you guys can celebrate alone."

"I love you, too, and we both appreciate it."

Beau stands. "I'll see you out."

"I thought you might."

"Sarah, please don't say anything to anyone," Carly pleads from the chair.

"Who would I tell?"

Carly

It's been one week since Beau and I found out I was pregnant and every day I've been fearful of who Sarah told and how they'll react. Thankfully, it seems she's kept our little secret to herself. We have a lot of people to consider when announcing this exciting news. How Myra will handle it is the top concern. Then our parents and Gram and Pap. We also have the church we'll have to tell as well. They are, after all, family.

Beau and I knew it was important to tell Myra first since she'll be the big sister. We also thought that if Myra knew about the blessing that maybe she would tell the others and we wouldn't have to. Is it sad to say that a part of me wishes that Myra would just slip up and tell everyone out of excitement?

We both decided to tell Myra this evening right after dinner. I hope that this is good news for her. She seems to have adjusted to our marriage well, but is it too soon for us to bring a child into this family?

I wish we had waited and planned for this better. Beau feels it's a miracle from God. Of course he does. He's a lot like Pap. He doesn't believe in accidents or accidental encounters. I guess I feel like that, too. This is certainly unexpected but definitely good news. I just hope Myra can see the blessing as well.

After we have a quiet dinner on the patio, Beau, Myra, and I take the paddle boat out into the water. While paddling leisurely with the canopy shading us from the bright sun, Beau hands Myra two beautifully wrapped gifts.

"Carly and I bought you something today, Myra."

Beau hands her one of the gifts.

"Is it the baby in the store I wanted?"

Beau looks at me and I smile. How could she know this?

"You need to open it and see," I say.

We wait patiently as she rips open the gift. If we were expecting to see dolphins this evening, I think Myra just scared them away.

"Yay. This is the same baby I wanted at the store the other day." Instead of her cuddling the baby, she sets it off to the side. "Is this present for me, too?"

"It is."

I hand her the gift while holding my breath for her response. I thought she was too young, but Beau disagreed with me. We'll see. I hope he's right.

She opens the gift just as quickly as she tore the wrapper off the first one. However, her excitement is less enthusiastic and more like boredom or dullness.

"This shirt is yours, Myra." I unfold the white shirt so she can see the picture of the little ballerina on it. I ask, "Can you read what this says?" Of course, she can't. She's only three. "It says, 'Big sister,'" I read, pointing to each word.

"Myra, Carly and I have something to tell you."

"I know what it is Daddy," she says, slipping the shirt on over her other shirt.

"You do, Cookie?"

She picks up the baby doll and cuddles it. "Yep, I'm the big sister to this cute little baby. And you must be the mom and the dad."

With that said, Beau and I paddled around the water for a little while before heading home for the evening.

Later that evening, we decide to just tell Myra, our parents, and Gram and Pap together. Maybe it would have been easier if Sarah had just made the announcement for us.

By the time Beau and I figured out a way to tell our family, friends, and the congregation, I was nearly showing. We did decide one Saturday night just to tell Myra so there wasn't any more confusion. We should have done that in the first place. Myra took the news extremely well. She spoke about the baby as if it was one of her baby dolls.

Beau chose his sermon for Sunday very carefully to talk about family growth and children. However, neither of us was prepared for Myra to wear her "big sister" shirt beneath her jacket and over her Sunday school dress.

When Myra attended Sunday school and removed her jacket, no other words were needed. It was very clear that our family was expanding by at least one. I was standing in the doorway so I could make sure she was situated before attending my own Sunday school class.

"Oh, Myra," Miss Jean says excitedly. I look at Myra to see why Miss Jean sounds so excited. "A baby," she exclaims. I look down at my baby bump and wonder if it is that noticeable. Myra stands and walks to the door with Miss Jean. That's when I saw Myra's "Big Sister" shirt. "A baby," Miss Jean says, hugging me. "This is incredible news."

"Thank you, we're pretty excited."

"And what a unique way to announce it."

"Thank you."

She looks behind me at the passing crowd of people. "Did y'all hear about the exciting news?"

"What are you talking about, Miss Jean?" an elderly woman asks.

"Look at Myra's shirt."

News sure travels fast in the small church. I quickly make an excuse to leave so I can join Tony, Mom, Gram, and Pap and tell them about their new grandchild. I knew it would be best for them to hear the news from me and not the congregation. Thankfully, Beau heard the commotion and joined me in the announcement.

"Beau and I have some pretty exciting news," I say.

"You're pregnant," Mom says, and it's not a question.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am." How could she know this? Maybe my exciting news was we were moving. Or the bookstore had the best month ever. Does everyone think good news is always about a baby?

"Soon we'll have a baby, Shorty," Tony laughs with a hug and a kiss on each of my cheeks.

We exchange hugs and kisses as the hallway to Myra's Sunday school class becomes crowded with Miss Jean telling everyone the exciting news.

Sarah also pretends to be surprised although she knew and kept our secret from the very beginning. Mom and Gram cry. I also think I see Pap and Tony wiping a tear on occasion.

Once I think about it, there was no better way to announce the news of the baby.

***

Beau and I decided we didn't want to know what the sex of the baby was prior to its birth. It wouldn't add to the excitement or take away from it. We already have a daughter and another daughter or a son would make a great addition to our family.

In the months leading to the birth, Sarah threw us a baby shower at the church. Since nearly everyone on the island wanted to participate, the shower was held on Sunday immediately after the sermon. The potluck was part of the shower with a few games and decorations. A baby cake was the main focus. The cake was an actual single layer white cake. The image on the cake was a 3d photo of our child taken while in utero. The bakery was able to take the image and turn it into edible icing.

It took several truckloads to get everything from the church to our house. Gram and Mom took all the clothing with them so they could wash everything for me. I couldn't express to them just how appreciative I was for their help.

Three months later and when I'm exactly forty weeks pregnant, Beau and I go to bed. Myra's already in bed sound asleep. I stand at the bathroom sink brushing my teeth when I notice my water break. At first, I thought I peed myself, so I crossed my leg to try to hold it in. It's odd how calmly I felt when I realized that wasn't pee but amniotic fluid. I wipe off my mouth and go into the bedroom to tell Beau.

"Beau, my water just broke."

Beau looks over at me from his Bible and asks, "Do you want me to get you another glass of water?"

Huh? "Um, it's not that kind of water."

He sets his Bible down before standing from the bed. "Your water just broke?"

"It did."

Slowly, he walks over and takes my hand before leading me to the bed. "We're having the baby?"

"We are."

"Okay, I got this." He looks around the room in confusion and fear. "What do I need to do first?"
Epilogue

Beau and Carly sit on the swing under the large shade tree and watch as Myra admires the new baby. Myra isn't sure about how to approach the small bundle of joy. Although she looks like her baby dolls, this baby makes funny noises and smells even funnier.

Myra likes the baby best when it's sleeping. It's when the baby smells the best and is the quietest.

Tony was there for the delivery and has been at the house every day since Maria Grace was born. He cried when Beauregard told him the name of his newest granddaughter — Maria, after his beloved deceased wife, and Grace, after Carly's mom. He was so excited about the newest addition, he rushed out and bought a baby bed to have inside of the market for the days he would be watching her for Beau and Carly. They haven't needed his services yet, but he was hoping it would be soon. Nothing would make him prouder than to show off both of his granddaughters to his customers.

The birth of Maria Grace confirmed to Gram and Pap that they did the right thing by making Seashell Island their permanent residence. Although they're moving up in their years, Gram figures they still have another good twenty years left. Pap disagrees and says he feels younger by the day and he and Gram will live another sixty-five years. Carly would like to believe Pap.

Grace, Carly's mom, is thrilled to have a grandbaby named after her. She wasn't hurt one bit when they told her the baby's first name was Maria, after Beau's mother. Maria was an amazing woman and one of her best friends. Carly and Beau also told Tony and Grace that if the baby were a boy, his name would be Michael Anthony. Michael was Carly's dad's name; he died of a sudden heart attack when Carly was only four years old. Tony was thrilled with that idea, too, but he secretly wanted another granddaughter. He loved his wife dearly and having a granddaughter carry on her name warmed his heart and soul.

Sarah was a little upset her name was never mentioned when naming the tiny tot. Secretly, she calls the little bundle of joy little Sarah when no one's looking. She bought the baby and Myra many shirts that mentions their beautiful aunt, or they take after their aunt, or they act like their aunt. If there's a saying about an aunt, Myra and newborn Maria have matching shirts that boast it.

"I can't believe she's ours," Beau says proudly.

"I know. It's hard to believe all this has happened before our one-year wedding anniversary."

He laughs as he recalls the past year with fondness. He picks up his newest daughter, who's dressed exactly like his oldest. Myra insists daily that she and the baby dress alike. Today, both girls are wearing white shirts that read in pink glittery letters, "I look like my aunt," with little pink leggings.

As the family gathers at Beau's and Carly's for the first official family outing with the newest member of the Romano/Stewart family, Beau basks in happiness. This birth wasn't like Myra's birth. There were no NICU nurses, no infant detoxing, no drug tests, no obsessively crying infant. In fact, he's amazed at how little Maria cries. Carly even caught him once on the phone calling the pediatrician and asking why doesn't this baby cry. He was positive that this wasn't normal and something was wrong with her.

Carly and Beau watch blissfully as Maria is passed from one family member to another. "This is the life, isn't it?"

"It is. I wish we had done this sooner," Carly admits honestly.

"Married and had children together?" Beau asks as he watches his wife adoringly.

"Yes. This is an amazing life." Carly looks over at her sister as she swings Myra on her jungle gym. "I just wish my sister could find someone and settle down."

"Maybe since she's been getting out more, some Prince Charming will sweep her up off her feet."

"I hope so, but I don't think that's going to happen in the bookstore."

Tony, Pap, Gram, and Mom walk over and sit in one of the other swings. Now Tony is holding Maria. Myra jumps into Beau's lap while Sarah gets herself a bottle of water from the cooler.

Gram asks, "Have you decided when Maria will be baptized?"

"We talked about this last night." Carly looks at everyone pleasantly.

Beau is thinking about when Myra was baptized. It was done quickly while she was in the NICU at the children's hospital in Charlotte. The medical staff didn't know whether Myra would live or die and he knew he needed to get her baptized as soon as possible. They didn't have time for the preacher at the church to travel so they had the hospital preacher baptize her. It's what Beau and Tony wanted. It was also what Beau's mom would have wanted for her granddaughter.

"And...?" Tony asks.

"We thought a Christmas baptism would be appropriate," Beau says with his heart filled with gratitude.

Tony has tears streaming down his face. He isn't sure if Beau and Carly chose this day because of the religious meaning or because it was his beloved wife's birthday. Either way, there is no better day for his granddaughter to be baptized into the church than on Christmas Day.

"Oh, Carly and Beau," Gram says, gleefully. "This Christmas on Seashell Island will be the best one yet."

The End

To continue reading more about the characters in the Seashell Island Series, watch for Christmas on Seashell Island releasing December of 2017.

Books by Brenda Kennedy

I support Indie Authors. If you read this book, please take the time to go to the purchasing site and give it a review.

Independent authors count on your reviews to get the word out about our books. Thank you for taking the time to read my books and taking the extra time to review them. I appreciate it very much.

Books in the Seashell Island Stand-alone Series

Home on Seashell Island

Christmas on Seashell Island...coming soon

Other books written by this author include:

The Starting Over Trilogy

Book One: A New Beginning (Free)  http://amzn.to/1ZX8R4l

Book Two: Saving Angel http://amzn.to/1W5eMoJ

Book Three: Destined to Love http://amzn.to/1jAEbFL

The Freedom Trilogy

Book One: Shattered Dreams (Free) http://amzn.to/1W5eZIn

Book Two: Broken Lives http://amzn.to/1W5fnqu

Book Three: Mending Hearts http://amzn.to/1W41cg4

The Fighting to Survive Trilogy

Round One: A Life Worth Fighting (Free) http://amzn.to/1jAEsZ7

Round Two: Against the Odds http://amzn.to/1W5fxy2

Round Three: One Last Fight http://amzn.to/1W5fC4O

The Rose Farm Trilogy

Book One: Forever Country (Free) http://amzn.to/1NkFYFT

Book Two: Country Life http://amzn.to/1TPuMG6

Book Three: Country Love http://amzn.to/1PcC0iS

The Forgotten Trilogy

Book One: Forgetting the Past (Free) http://amzn.to/1sJDtdr

Book Two: Living for Today http://amzn.to/2aWoUfh

Book Three: Seeking the Future http://amzn.to/2ePhKel

The Learning to Live Trilogy

Book One: Learning to Live (Free) http://amzn.to/2iuk1iI

Book Two: Learning to Trust http://amzn.to/2ov91Wr

Book Three: Learning to Love http://amzn.to/2smmDG7

Stand-alone books in the "Another Round of Laughter Series" written by Brenda and some of her siblings: Carla Evans, Martha Farmer, Rosa Jones, and David Bruce.

Cupcakes Are Not a Diet Food (Free) http://amzn.to/2aUu2kE

Kids Are Not Always Angels http://amzn.to/2hdrsJ2

Aging Is Not for Sissies http://amzn.to/2nkoR2y

Acknowledgements

My husband, Rex: Who would have known where this journey has taken us? Thank you for supporting me in following my dreams. Thank you for giving me the freedom to spread my wings and catching me when I fall. Thank you for always believing in me. You are my partner for life, and I love you.

My children: Thank you for reminding me what is important every single day. I love you.

My grandchildren: Thank you for reminding me that I am somebody; I am your grandma and nothing else matters. I love you all.

My sisters and brothers: Thank you for your endless support. I love you.

My brother David: Without you, I wouldn't have been able to publish the first book. Thank you for making my ideas better and for all you do. Editing, proofreading, polishing, formatting, ideas, articles, and research websites. See, I do pay attention. Thank you. Thank you for pushing me until I get it right. Maybe someday I'll learn the right place to put the commas. I love you and I can never thank you enough. David writes collections of anecdotes such as The Funniest People in Movies, and he retells classics in such books as Ben Jonson's The Alchemist: A Retelling. His books can be found for sale on all leading online electronic book sale platforms. He is apparently either the first or second person in the world to translate all 38 of William Shakespeare's plays into today's English. He may also be the first person in the world to translate at least one of Ben Jonson's plays into today's English. David wrote the haiku that appears in this book.

Christina Badder, I hope you know how much I appreciate your hard work and dedication. You are amazing, and I am so glad I found you.

Becki Angle Martin: Thank you for designing this stunning cover. You saw my vision and brought it to life. Thank you. I'm proud to call you family.

Thank you to all of my Beta readers: I appreciate your honest opinions and reviews, and I love the bond that we have developed. Also, I appreciate that I can trust you and count on you. Thank you for encouraging me to write and for giving me ideas. You never disappoint. I love you guys!

Thank you to "Brenda's Street Talkers" for sharing my books, making teasers and banners, and for the love and support I receive from you every day. I love you girls.

A very special thank you to author DB Jones for your endless and continuous support. I feel like I've known you my entire life.

To my readers: Thank you for reading and reviewing my books. Thank you to my loyal readers who have followed me from the beginning and to those who are new to me.

For those readers who enjoy a darker, more intense read: My daughter Carleen Jamison has published her debut novel, which is titled Inappropriate Reactions. It is Book One of the Mind Games Series. This book is intended for mature audiences only and is available on all leading online eBookstore platforms. You can follow her on her Smashwords Author's page:  https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/carleenjamison

Info for David Bruce, My Brother

Smashwords (Books for Sale, and Free Books)

 http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/bruceb

WordPress Blog

 https://davidbruceblog.wordpress.com

About the Author

Brenda Kennedy, an award-winning and bestselling author, is a true believer of romance. Her stories are based on the relationships that define our lives—compassionate, emotionally gripping, and uplifting novels with true-to-life characters that stay with her readers long after the last page is turned.

Her varied, not always pleasant, background has given her the personal experience to take her readers on an emotional, sometimes heart-wrenching, journey through her stories. Brenda has been a struggling single mom, a survivor of domestic abuse, waitress, corrections officer, hostage negotiator, and corrections nurse. She is also a wife, mom, and grandmother. Even though her life was not always rainbows and butterflies, she is a survivor and believes her struggles have made her the person she is today.

Brenda is the author of the award-winning book Forever Country (The Rose Farm Trilogy Book 1, for Best Book in Series). She has been dubbed "The Queen of Cliffhangers" by her adoring readers because books one and two in her trilogies always have a cliffhanger ending. In Brenda's own words, "I write series that end in cliffhangers, because I love them. I always give away the first book in each cliffhanger series so you have nothing to lose by reading it."

Her books have appeared on the Publishers Weekly Top 25 Best-Sellers list eleven times—once she had four titles on the list at the same time—along with Amazon, iBooks, and Barnes and Noble rankings in the top 100 books in contemporary romance.

Brenda moved to sunny Florida in 2006 and never looked back. She loves freshly squeezed lemonade, crushed ice, teacups, wine glasses, non-franchise restaurants, ice cream cones, boating, picnics, cookouts, throwing parties, lace, white wine, mojitos, strawberry margaritas, white linen tablecloths, fresh flowers, lace, mountains, oceans, and Pinterest. She also loves to read and write and to spend time with her family.

You may follow her on:

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