One Lavender Ribbon

Dear Diary,



I haven’t had a diary before, so I’m probably not going to be very good at this. I’m not planning on keeping this going for very long, but I have to have someone to talk to about what I’ve done.

I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but I know it’s going to. Gracie is gone, and Momma is making me move back to North Carolina. I don’t want to go. This is where my friends are. I guess I’m probably old enough to tell her no and that I’m staying here, but I won’t do that. Besides, when William comes I certainly can’t be here. I couldn’t bear to look at his face or see his disappointment in me.

I have betrayed everyone I love and don’t know how to live with the guilt of that. I can’t write any more right now.



Sara



Adrienne pressed her hands against her head. Sara had rambled on for a couple of pages about how she’d betrayed everyone and hated herself for it. The last entry was equally chilling, though it seemed to give the young girl some thin thread of relief.



Dear Diary,



We are leaving today and I am putting these words into my hiding place in the closet. I went and talked to Pastor Luke yesterday. I’m not going to dwell on what I’ve done anymore. I’m going to close this diary, put it away, and leave town with Momma. I guess I’m all she has now.

I miss Gracie. No matter how she treated William, I still love her. I wish she could come back. William is coming home from the war in the next few days. He’ll be here, but we’ll be gone. It’s better. It’s best that I never see him again.



Sara Chandler



Disappointed, Adrienne walked the inside perimeter of the house, shutting off lights and readying for bed. She changed into a T-shirt and sweats—careful not to pull the bandage from her heel. Her head nuzzled into the pillow, but she knew there would be no restful sleep for her tonight. She tossed and turned, haunted by an inconclusive confession from a girl who couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Sara was hiding something.

And Adrienne couldn’t ignore the strong tug to find out what.





Leo smiled when Adrienne entered the diner, his pot of coffee and a clean cup—albeit stained on the rim—dangling on his crooked finger. He stopped at the table, wiggled those sparse but unruly brows, and poured the cup without asking.

She questioned him with a look.

“Real man’s cup of coffee.” The cup clinked against the Formica countertop.

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but I’m not a man at all.” Adrienne was growing ever more comfortable with her circle of eighty-year-old friends. And though that fact might alarm most twenty-somethings, she rather liked it.

Leo urged her onward with the dip of his chin and a wink of his eye. “If you’ve come to pump me for more information, you’re gonna have to drink.”

“Maybe I just came for the best breakfast in town.” She sat back in the booth and crossed her arms over her chest. A couple with three noisy kids, covered with sand from the knees down, passed her table and chose a corner booth.

Leo scrubbed at a weathered cheek. “Nah, I know about you city slickers. Y’all think yogurt and fruit is a proper breakfast. Too busy for a real meal, grabbing a bagel and some awful thing you like to call a shmear.”

Adrienne laughed.

He threw his hands up. “What self-respecting bread product has a hole through the middle of it?”

“What about donuts?” Leo seemed a bit . . . younger today. Almost as if he wanted to see her again. The thought made her smile inwardly. Maybe he just enjoyed the banter. She could hold her own with most quick-witted people. She certainly enjoyed it. Especially now that she didn’t have to wonder what Eric thought of her conversations. It felt free. She could joke, tease, chit-chat, even flirt without ever having to wonder if she’d be admonished for it later. Life was good.

“I said self-respecting bread product.”

Adrienne crossed her legs. “Okay, you got me. I’m here for information. What can you tell me about Sara?”

Leo raised his brows again and stared at the coffee mug but didn’t say a word.

Adrienne followed his gaze to the thick liquid in front of her. Was this really the price for a little history? She mustered her strength and lifted the death-brew to her mouth slowly. After one last plea with her eyes—and Leo only rocking back on his heels—she tipped the mug the way one might tip a glass laced with poison.

Leo smirked.

She was quickly invaded by two sensations. First, there was the stinging of heavily acidic fluid sitting on her tongue. Then the pungent aftertaste that remained after swallowing. “Mmm,” she forced out, unconvincingly. Her eyes watered.

Leo threw his head back and laughed. “Greenhorn. I guess you’ve earned a question or two.” But he rose from the table and brought back a delicate silver container of milk so cold the shiny creamer had frosted. He poured the milk into the coffee and nudged her to give it another try.


It couldn’t possibly help that much, or so her eyes begged, but he was relentless. She drew a long breath and obediently took another sip. It was surprisingly better, or maybe she’d just dulled her taste buds with the first swallow.

“So now you want to know about Sara? Did you find William?”

“Yes, I had dinner with him and his grandson a couple weeks ago.”

“Will! I sure owe him a lot.”

“You owe a lot to William?” Confusion and bad coffee clouded her mind.

“No, to Will. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t still have this place. I got pretty sick a few years back, and the bank was breathing down my neck about my business loan. Will worked with me, gave me extra time, kept me from losing it. I’m not sure he didn’t even kick in on a few payments; I still don’t know how I paid it off so quickly.” He gave her a few moments to absorb this before continuing. “But you’re not here to talk about that.”

Who did I meet? she wondered. This didn’t sound like the same Will. He was all about business and the bottom line, not pitching in on loans for old, ailing men. At the same time, there were glimpses of sweetness in him. Maybe she’d misjudged him or just judged him too quickly. Then again, there was always a wariness and suspicion behind his deep green eyes that she couldn’t discount.

“Sara. She was a sweetheart. You could search the world and not find a sweeter girl. But, oh could she find trouble.” He leaned his elbow on the table. “She didn’t look for trouble, mind you, just always seemed to end up in the middle of it. Sara had a soft spot for animals. When she’d find a stray, she’d knock on every door in town, trying to find it a good home. Someone dumped a litter of puppies once, and she found them before school, took ’em home and barricaded them in. After all, how much damage could a litter of puppies do to a kitchen in just a few hours?”

“Oh, no.” Adrienne smiled.

“Her momma was gone for the day, due back at six that evening. Oh, those pups wreaked havoc on that room. It took six of us to clean up the mess. Needless to say, she refrained from bringing any more strays home.”

“Leo,” Adrienne said. “Do you think Sara blamed herself for Gracie’s death?”

He took a thoughtful moment, then shook his head. “No, why?”

“She left a diary that just had a few pages in it. She talked like she’d done something awful.” Adrienne’s eyes narrowed to slits. “But I don’t think she really did.”

He gauged her for a long moment and seemed to disappear in the past, eyes on her, but mind far away. “Did she do something wrong?” Adrienne asked.

He nodded. “Yes.”

Adrienne’s heart quickened.

“But in doing that she also did something very, very right.”

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Blood pounded in Adrienne’s ears. “You know her secret.”

He nodded, tapping his thumb against the table. “It took me a long time to figure out. And once I did, it was too late. She was gone, and William had moved on.”

“It involves William?” she asked. “She mentions that William would never forgive her.”

“Before Sara left town to go back to North Carolina, she stopped by to see me. I’d come home about six months before William was scheduled to. She wouldn’t give me any details, but she asked me to look out for him.” A gentle smile touched his face, and Adrienne could see a tenderness he usually kept hidden.

Adrienne realized she wasn’t breathing when black spots materialized before her eyes.

He waited, as if time would fill in the blanks.

Pure intrigue pulled Adrienne forward until she leaned on the table, Leo filling her vision. “What are you trying to say, Leo? Sara asked you to watch out for him?”

“I’ve never seen a woman more in love.”

Adrienne sucked in a breath. “Sara was in love with William. But Sara was just a kid when William left.”

He brushed a hand through the air. “We were all kids. Sara was fourteen, only three years younger than William. Five years younger than me. But her skinny, gawky frame that fourteen-year-olds so often have made her seem like more of a kid than a teenager. She had just turned seventeen when William was scheduled to come home.” He eyed her closely. “And that’s old enough to know if you’re truly in love.”

“Sara was in love with her sister’s boyfriend,” Adrienne whispered, her weight dropped against the vinyl booth cushion, her hands clasped in her lap. “What a secret for her to have to carry.”

“I suspect it was a heavy load. More so after Gracie died.”

It was a moment before Adrienne noticed the change in Leo’s demeanor. He wrung his hands, his gaze drifting over different parts of the table. “You see, I didn’t know. I didn’t know right away. After she left town, I figured it out. But it was too late. I’d gone and introduced William to Betty.”

Adrienne’s heart sank for Leo, for William, for Sara.

“I felt bad for William. Losing Grace. Sara being gone. His injury . . . ”

The wall clock had a flip screen on it that advertised local businesses. From where they sat, they could hear the gentle hum of the neon illuminating it. Adrienne waited for Leo to continue, having to tear her gaze from his watery gray eyes gone dark with shame.

“William got home, and I introduced him to Betty. She was sweet and kind and had lost a brother in the war. After William and Betty became serious, I realized what Sara was hiding.” He pursed his lips together. “But it was too late. William had fallen in love with Betty.”

Adrienne realized how difficult this admission was for Leo. She could tell he felt somehow responsible.

He rubbed one hand with the other. “I never told him. I never did. I just didn’t know how.” His eyes found hers and begged for long-sought forgiveness that she couldn’t give because he hadn’t wronged her. He hadn’t wronged anyone, but it seemed he’d carried the weight of this his whole life, and it had taken too much of a toll. His lips pressed into a straight line, and she knew she needed to say something.

Adrienne reached across the table and placed a hand on Leo’s arm. “You were a good friend. You did the right thing, Leo.” Words. Only words. A sick feeling unfurled in her stomach. She had dredged up enough about the past. It was here that her journey must end. Though she loved hearing about the life William and Leo had led, there was something disturbing about discussing it with them. It was their past. It was the pain and the struggle they had fought through to make it to where they now stood. Each time she spoke with either of them, though their words were in the past tense, their eyes and hearts were reliving each moment.

So her journey was over. She was completely convinced this was the last discussion about it. She was convinced, that is, until Leo spoke again.

His words were like the softest brush of wind and delivered after she had thanked him for his time and stood up from the table to leave. A Prada bag was slung carelessly over her shoulder, and for an instant she wasn’t sure that he’d said anything at all. Had it not been for the intensity in his gaze, she might have turned and walked right out of the restaurant.

Then, he repeated the words: “It’s not too late. Sara never married.”

The pounding began in her heart and worked its way out from her core, causing her entire body to zing with warning and intrigue. “What do you mean?”


“It’s not too late for William to know the truth.”

The vinyl cushion sighed as she dropped back onto it, her weight slumped against the back of the seat. A silver buckle on her purse clanged against the table. She had been so close to escape. A few more steps and she could have left the mysteries and the madness behind her. She shook her head. “I don’t know.” Lips pressed tightly together, she contemplated what this could mean to William, who had made peace with the ghosts from his past.

But Leo seemed just as certain as she was uncertain.

“Leo, all these years later. I mean, Sara left. If she was seventeen, she was old enough to stay here at least long enough to see him. She chose to go. I think the news would only hurt William.”

He gazed at her through gray and piercing eyes. “Not if Sara got the chance to explain.”





What are you doing, Pops?” Will reached into the box his grandfather had filled with vegetables. He plucked a tomato and brought it to his mouth. But Pops moved with lightning speed and snagged it from Will.

“Stay out of this box.” Pops turned to face him, to point a finger in Will’s face, and that’s when he saw the spark. There’d been a spark in Pops’s eyes since Adrienne Carter showed up, disrupting their crab shells and their life. “We’ve got more than we can possibly eat, so I am sending these with Adrienne. She loves to cook, you know?”

“She’s coming by this morning?” Uh, had there been a hint of excitement in his tone? Yeah, the way Pops was grinning at him, there must have been. He honestly didn’t know why he cared at all. She had returned his grandfather’s letters, but Pops kept thinking of excuses for her to drop by. First, it was the book about plumbing, then borrowing some tool he’d dug out of the garage. Now she was stopping by for fresh vegetables. His vegetables. Will’s mouth watered. That tomato was perfect. This was madness.

She obviously liked Pops, since he’d yet to hear her turn down an invite, but Will couldn’t help notice that she always came while he was at work, which meant she wanted nothing to do with him. Will was fine with that. But she was coming today. It was Saturday. She had to know he’d be there. Maybe she’d planned it that way.

He imagined her breezing in, interrupting his morning, smelling like wildflowers and maybe tossing some food on the kitchen floor. The thought brought him back to the night they’d spent sitting at the table and laughing with Pops. He caught himself smiling in his reflection in the window, so he turned it into a scowl. She wouldn’t get to him. Not today. He headed out back to the pier. He just wouldn’t be here. He’d stay outside. Problem solved. As he left, he could hear Pops mumbling about Adrienne bringing the bait for their fishing trip. Will cast his eyes toward heaven.

As he headed for the boat, he stopped and admired the hard work he’d put in yesterday. The thirty-two-foot cuddy cabin gleamed in the Florida sun. He’d spent the evening before, brush in hand, scrubbing every inch of her, wiping down the teak wood, cleaning the windows, and polishing the chrome. She looked better than a brand new boat. And no one, not even a nosy, too pretty brunette was going to ruin his day out on the water.





“Now these are delicious in a spinach salad. Here’s kale, mustard greens, collards.” Pops’s hands meandered through the box. “’Course, I grew up calling it a wilted lettuce salad, but Will says that sounds terrible. You know how to make one?”

“Yes,” Adrienne answered. But her mind was elsewhere. She’d spotted Will in the backyard through the kitchen window and had to fight the urge to go outside and watch him. Bare to the waist, with the Florida sun gleaming off his muscles and looking so at ease.

“I always use a little bacon grease for the base of the dressing, but Will tells me that’s bad for my cholesterol.”

“Mm-hmm,” she agreed, leaning to glance out the window again.

“How do you make your dressing?” Pops sniffed a bunch of radishes.

She was aware of words being sent in her direction, but couldn’t quite put them together.

“Adrienne, how do you make your dressing?”

She snapped to attention. “Oh, I start with a little olive oil, add some fresh garlic in a skillet, salt, pepper, a dash of sugar.”

He nodded, and she could see him ticking off the ingredients in his mind. “A little onion?”

“If I’m in the mood. But usually, just dried minced onion. Fresh is too overpowering.”

He shook a finger at her. “Exactly right.”

“I add the vinegar just before applying the dressing to the greens.” She fingered the different lettuce leaves Pops had given her. “This will be a really nice change. I usually only have fresh spinach for my salad.”

“You’ll love this mix, then. And do you serve it with mushrooms and croutons?”

“Always. Oh, and a boiled egg. I make homemade croutons, you know.”

“Really?”

“I got the recipe from a friend not too long ago. I’ll bring you some.”

He noticed her stretch to glance out the back window again. “Will’s getting the boat ready for the day.”

“Uh-huh.”

He watched her. She watched Will. “Sure is going to be nice out there. The water’s smooth, and the cold front brought in a cool breeze.”

“Sounds fabulous.” Sort of. Adrienne was terrified of boats. She’d had a bad experience once, and Eric had made fun of her for it. Boats and her—not simpatico. But the naked-to-the-waist man outside? Now that she could stare at for hours.

She’d only in the last few months been able to look at men without feeling like she was cheating on her husband. Even though they’d separated practically a year ago and her divorce had been final months ago. One thing she could thank Ryan for, she supposed. Ryan, her furniture-moving grad student with the killer smile and smooth confidence. He’d broken through all those barriers of false propriety, even grabbing and kissing her without warning or invitation on occasion. At first she’d frozen at his touch. But then she’d remembered she wasn’t a married woman anymore and she had settled into that first kiss. It was nice. The next one was nice. And the next, and several more after that. Was Will a good kisser? For a horrible second, she thought she might have said that aloud.

She breathed relief when she realized Pops was still up to his elbows in her box of vegetables and still chattering about salad. Her gaze and her mind drifted through the window. Tan skin, rolling muscles, denim shorts cinched around smooth hips. It was hard to breathe.

Pops dislodged himself from the box and leaned forward to pick up the bait bucket Adrienne had brought. “Boy, this thing is heavy.”

And before she knew it, she was slipping it from his grasp and trying not to consider how Will’s mouth would measure up to Ryan’s.





A loose towel in one hand and shirt off, Will wiped the morning dew from the otherwise sparkling boat, the Miss Betty May. He scrubbed back and forth, removing the moisture that had settled on her. Aggravation from the week’s work dissolved with the brush of his hand. Everything about a boat was therapeutic, even bathing it.

He was almost finished when he noticed he wasn’t alone. The wind carried the scent of flowers to him before she spoke a word. He groaned inwardly, reaching for his shirt. He pulled it on and hopped off the boat, his deck shoes grabbing the wooden planks of the pier. “Good morning.”


“It is,” she returned.

She looked . . . guilty and gorgeous. A purple tank top hugged her upper body, emphasizing her curves. Shorts accentuated those amazing legs. Adrienne’s neck glistened with a tiny locket. That neck. The kind he could nuzzle into and not come up for air for hours. It was the curve. Tantalizing, smooth, inviting him to nibble. And there they stood. Wordless, staring at each other. Awkward, but somehow that was okay.

Finally, she blinked. “Um, I brought this down for Pops.” She nodded at the bucket of bait she held.

But he didn’t take it from her. Instead, he regarded her, wondering just how long she’d been standing there watching him wipe off the boat.

She blinked again, innocently, but below the surface, he could see her squirming. A honey-smooth spot on her throat throbbed. She motioned to the bucket that he had yet to take from her.

But taking it might mean an end to her standing there waiting on him. Watching him. She might disappear back up to the house. No, he didn’t really want to rush this. Some of the best things in life were rushed when they shouldn’t be. It was a crime, really. He was pretty sure this was one of those moments. “I hope you haven’t been standing there long with that heavy bucket.” He took his time tucking his shirt into denim shorts. He caught her eyes trail from his chest down to his hand, then quickly snap back up to his face.

“No,” she said a little too quickly.

But he still didn’t take the bucket. “So I didn’t keep you waiting?”

“Oh, no.” She waved a hand. “I just walked down here.”

At that moment, Pops stuck his head out the back door. “Did you fall in, Adrienne? It doesn’t take five minutes to drop off a bucket of bait!”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. So she had been watching him. Something white hot shot into his gut and curled there.

Cheeks stained crimson, she gestured with her free hand toward the canal. “I was just admiring your . . . your boat. It looks beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

When she began to move the bucket to her free hand, he reached for it. “Let me take that.” This put him in close enough proximity to drag her scent into his lungs. He welcomed it.

“Thank you.” She rubbed her palm where red streaks left their mark.

Will dropped the bucket on the deck behind him, bait sloshing. He took her hand in his, drawing her closer. He ran a finger over the lines on her palm. Concern drew his brows together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so heavy.” Really chivalrous. But honestly, it wasn’t every day he caught a gorgeous woman checking him out. He’d just wanted to enjoy it a little while. But he’d left her there holding a ten-pound bucket. Nice.

Adrienne mumbled an answer he didn’t quite catch. For a tiny little thing, she was pretty strong. She hadn’t even complained about the bucket. Of course, she was remodeling a house. Couldn’t be a wimp and do that. Still, he’d left her under the strain of his bait. Not the most gentlemanly thing he’d ever done. “Really, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she whispered.

A breeze pushed at her back, pressing her closer to him, lifting her hair and forcing the feminine scent deeper into his lungs. Her smell bounded off his skin in waves. Marking him. He wasn’t in any hurry to move away.

Gently, his finger rubbed across the marks on her palm. Odd that he didn’t mind this woman’s scent invading his nose and clothes. Odd that he hadn’t minded her throwing crab claws and meat bits all over his kitchen. “I wouldn’t have had my shirt off, but I didn’t know you would be coming down here. I thought you were just picking up some vegetables.”

“I volunteered to,” she said unapologetically, and some brave little flicker caused her dark eyes to dance.

It was unnerving. In a good way. He concentrated his attention on her palm. Soft, smooth flesh, warm beneath his touch.

“Pops was going to bring them, but I thought I should say hello.”

“Sounds like a chore.” His eyes drifted up to hers. Her irises were espresso colored, but this close and in the bright sunlight, he saw multiple flecks of gold. He’d like to mine that gold, unearth the treasure hidden in her eyes.

“Then let me rephrase it. I wanted to say hello.”

“Hello, back.” Something warm twisted in his stomach. He allowed his fingers to slide up her arm to her shoulder. Once there, he kneaded gently until he felt a tremor run along her flesh. “Did the bucket hurt your arm?”

She shook her head. His finger drifted under the edge of her shoulder strap, scarcely grazing her skin beneath and causing her top to move ever so slightly. It could have been an accident, a mistake. But it wasn’t. He wanted to see the response it elicited.

A puff of hot breath was his answer. A face flushed with pink, a further invitation. Her skin was velvet. “Good.” He pulled in a breath, reluctant to let go. But what could he do? Continue stroking her? No. Will took a difficult and deliberate step back. The scent of flowers and woman stayed.





Oh, this was a disaster. She had seen him from the house, shirt off, scrubbing the boat. She’d only wanted to talk to him, and now, with his face inches from hers, his body smelling of the sea, his emerald eyes staring into hers, she found that she’d lost all her words.

Standing this close to a sweaty sailor shouldn’t make you want to get closer. She had watched his long, lean muscles roll rhythmically as he scrubbed back and forth. So he was tan, lean, and muscled. So what? Lots of guys were. It had actually been his hands that caused the blood to pool in her stomach—even before he’d touched her. Every now and then, he’d take the towel away and with long, slow strokes, slide a hand over the smooth white side of the boat, strong fingers gliding, caressing. Those hands could be lethal to a girl. Those hands could thoroughly wreck her. If, of course, she wanted to be wrecked, which she, Adrienne, didn’t. And if, of course, he wanted to wreck her, which he didn’t.

She’d watched him grab the pail from her sore arm and effortlessly drop it to the deck behind him. Even through his T-shirt, the muscles in his stomach clenched as he lifted, then relaxed. His hand, first on hers, then sliding up her arm, each movement a dizzying dance.

But this wasn’t just about looking at Will’s body, no matter how good, how perfect it was wiping down the boat. She was also interested in being introduced to the Will Bryant that Leo talked about. She really did want to say hello. In fact, if invited, she’d hop right on the boat and spend the day with him. Fear or no fear. She’d go. She’d do it.

As if reading her mind, Will asked, “You want to go along?”

“No, but thank you,” she answered without giving herself a moment to consider it. “But Pops is really excited about going out today.” Adrienne was a master at redirecting the conversation. She’d spent years redirecting it to Eric. After all, the world hadn’t just revolved around Eric. He had been its sun, moon, and stars.

“Pops always thinks he’s going to land a trophy sailfish.”

Will wadded a towel and tossed it onto the deck, then turned back to her. “By the way, I’m really sorry Pops asked you to stop at the bait shop on your way over. I don’t know what he was thinking.” He rubbed a hand through thick, dark hair that was adorably unkempt. Just as she’d suspected it would be without all that hair gel.


“Oh, I volunteered. It was the least I could do. He’s giving me a truck load of vegetables.”

Tan fingers spread wide, and his hands fell to rest on his hips. “Sure you won’t come along?”

“No, I’m not dressed for it.”

His gaze drifted down over her, slowly, lingering on the way. “You’re right. Shorts and a tank top are way too formal attire for boat trips.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Tilting her ankle outward drew attention to her four-inch wedge sandals.

His gaze trailed down to them in a long, slow perusal as if he’d been invited to inspect her legs along the way. Goose bumps spread across her thighs and calves everywhere his gaze touched.

“You could slip those off. It’s pretty customary to go barefoot on a boat.”

“Oh.” Well, that was the last of her excuses. One last plea. “It’s going to be terribly hot.”

“Nonsense.” The words came from behind her as Pops stepped past both of them. “If it isn’t too hot for an eighty-year-old man, it isn’t too hot for you, Miss High-Falootin’ City Girl.”

Will helped his grandfather onto the boat and returned to her, an inviting grin animating his face. “There’s plenty of shade to keep you cool.”

Shade? Not likely. There was no shade from his smoldering looks and heat-radiating body. Her gaze moved between Will and the monster of a boat that rested beside them. “I’ve never been on an ocean boat. I mean, a cruise ship once, but you can’t even feel them moving. Smaller boats are . . . kind of scary. I nearly drowned in a canoe.”

“The water is supposed to be smooth as glass today. We’ll go slow if it makes you feel better.” He stretched his hand out to take hers. “You’re safe with me.”

Safe with him. The words dropped to the ground like lead. She’d never met a man she truly felt safe with, least of all one with eyes able to cut right into her soul, which was kind of how she felt with Will.

When she didn’t answer, he whispered, “I promise.” His tongue darted out to moisten a mouth gone slack.

And for a quick moment, the world stopped.

Behind them, she could hear Pops uttering something about drowning and canoes.

Without realizing it, her hand slid into Will’s. It was the look of utter assurance that brought her enough gumption to actually agree to going. There was certainty in him. And honesty. The warmth of his strong fingers closing around hers urged her into motion, and before she knew what was happening, he was pulling her onto the luxury boat.

Her vegetables and purse sat on the kitchen table. Her car windows were rolled down. Her cell phone left smack in the middle console. But none of that mattered. She was going on an adventure. She and Pops . . . and Will.

Adrienne’s mind went to Sara—Sara who loved to fish. She had new information concerning the woman, but for now, she wouldn’t breathe a word of it. No good could come of it. If Leo was wrong and Sara had died, it would only bring more sorrow to Pops. The thought of causing him pain was unbearable. So, until she knew for sure, Adrienne would keep the secret buried, just as it had been for over sixty years.

She took a seat at the back of the boat. The leather cushion was soft and padded against her flesh. The gloriously rich wood of the deck shone beneath her bare feet: her dark pink toes tried to grip the wood but failed against the velvet smoothness. Smoothness created by Will’s care. She faced the front of the boat, her back straight, her shoulders taught. Pops moved below in the cabin. He’d gone down the stairs and was now humming, but the sound brought her little comfort because the engine rumbled to life, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin. Adrienne reached for something to hold onto.

Will shot her a smile. It faded quickly. “Are you okay?”

She nodded furiously, but could feel the color drain from her face, leaving her bloodless and cold. “No one has ever fallen out, right?”

“No. You really are scared, aren’t you?” His gaze dropped to her white-knuckled hands, gripping the cushion so tightly that the leather puckered. “Would you be more comfortable over here by me?”

“No,” she admitted, considering her previous reaction to him as he’d rubbed the lines in her palm and teased her shoulder. Oh, he’d made her feel things. Comfortable wasn’t one of them.

But Will folded the helm seat down so they could sit side by side. “Come on.” The sun hit his face, and his eyes sparkled like emeralds.

By the time she was seated, he had slipped past her to untie the mooring lines. As soon as he was back beside her at the helm, he studied her face. “You okay now?”

“Better.” Warmth emanated from where his arm touched hers. He took her hands and placed them on a chrome bar in front of her. She felt silly. Like a little girl on her first carousel ride.

He must have sensed her anxiety. “Don’t worry. Everybody hangs on at first.”

Adrienne was pretty certain everyone didn’t. But it was nice of him to say. She liked this Will. Gone was the prickly exterior, and in its place was something endearing. Finally, here was the grandson she would expect William Bryant to have.

Within the first few minutes of rumbling away from the dock, Adrienne wondered what her apprehension had been about. They eased down the cove, homes and foliage disappearing past them as they went, leaves of massive palm trees tilting out over the canal and swaying in the breeze. The boat motor hummed gently, vibrating her feet against the warm wood of the deck. As they approached a curve, Will slowed the engine. He faced her. “We’re going out into the Gulf after this last turn. I’ll have to speed up.”

She nodded, no longer afraid, ready to meet this adventure head on. And stunned at how attentive Will was to her earlier panic. From the moment he’d seen it on her face, it seemed everything had been about making her feel comfortable. Safe. You’re safe with me.

“The waves will be a little rough until we get through the pass, but that’s normal.”

She was in good hands.

When he made the corner, her breath left her. As the thick foliage of the canal disappeared, she gazed out at the expanse of blue that stretched on forever before them. Though she often watched boats slide across the water, not one interrupted her view today. The deep blue spanned in a panorama from east to west, sliced only by a golden horizon. Wind saturated with seawater sprinkled her face. The engine moaned louder as Will put his hand to the throttle, moving them beyond the barrier.

Adrienne couldn’t speak.

Will smiled over at her. “Cool, huh?”

“It’s breathtaking.” She squinted into the sun on the water and wished she’d grabbed her sunglasses. “I see this every day from my back deck, but it looks completely different from out here.”

They crashed through the waves, and Adrienne worked to find her sea legs. Will and Pops made it look so easy. She gathered enough bravery to move around the deck, but preferred her spot by the captain.

“So we’re going fishing.” She looked down at the bucket of bait.

He nodded over at her, his tongue moistening his lips. “Uh-huh.”

Whew, it was hot. Adrienne was glad for the tank top. She’d almost put on a shirt with short sleeves. Now she was thankful she’d opted for the tank. Will seemed to appreciate it too. “Do we just stop anywhere?”

“No, we have a destination.”


“How do you know where to go? I mean, you can’t exactly stop for directions.”

“Men don’t stop for directions anyway.” He winked and pointed to a screen in front of them on a dashboard of levers, gauges, and buttons. It looked like a mini computer screen tucked between a compass and the throttle. “This shows us the way.”

“That little screen tells us where to go?”

He nodded.

“Wow, too bad you can’t fasten those onto people. There would be a lot less heartache and a lot more direction.” If she’d had one of those little gadgets she’d have never married Eric.

“I think they only work on water.” He pushed a button and the screen made a blip, blip, blip sound. “Besides, we’re all already equipped with one.”

She frowned. “Mine must be broken.” Seeing as how she was a twenty-eight-year-old with not even an inkling of what she was going to do with her life . . . broken compass seemed possible.

“Nah, sometimes it shows us a really clear picture of where we’re headed.” He pointed to the now garbled screen. “But sometimes it’s fuzzy.”

“What do you do when it gets fuzzy?” Her screen had been muddled for a long time.

“You stay the course.” His eyes left the screen and found her. “In time, everything comes into view, and the course we’re meant to steer crystallizes before us.”

It wasn’t that simple. Maybe one day she would have a picture of the future. But it seemed far away. She’d spent so many years making sure Eric had what he wanted, got what he wanted, went where he wanted . . . well, she didn’t even know what things she liked anymore. It had all been about him. She’d grown up thinking that’s how marriage was supposed to be. That’s what her mother had done. That’s what all the women in her family did. Unlike Eric, Adrienne’s father never took advantage of the kindness. Adrienne supposed she’d done it all wrong, creating a monster rather than a loving partner. But she wouldn’t dwell on that. Each morning she reminded herself that life was a gift, something she’d learned from Pops. Each day was a present to be opened and relished. So today she’d cherish the gift. And do the only other reasonable thing.

Stay the course. Until the screen cleared.

“Can I take you to dinner?” Will’s voice cracked. Like the words he’d just spoken surprised him as much as they did her.

Her eyes went to his. “Uh . . . ”

“It’s just dinner.”

Like that made it less intimidating. She needed to answer: No. The answer would be no as soon as she found her voice. “Yes,” she said, and that surprised her too. Well, if the screen had cleared at all, this had just succeeded in scrambling the message.