Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 1

Beckett closed his eyes and tilted his head skyward as the ferry pulled away from the Michigan shore. The breeze that always seemed to blow across Lake Huron brushed through his hair, its scent familiar even after twelve years away.

Please don’t let this be a big mistake, he prayed silently.

The ferry cut easily through the waves, barely bobbing, and yet Beckett’s stomach churned. It wasn’t seasickness. He had never suffered from that.

It was nerves. Lots of them.

He sighed and opened his eyes, squinting against the sharp glint of the sunlight on the waves. He couldn’t see it yet, but a few miles out there was Sanctuary Island, and they’d arrive soon enough, whether he was ready or not.

“Hey. Are you doing okay?” A woman with an open smile and a wide stripe of gray highlighting her black hair stumbled toward him, gripping the rail that ran around the deck with all her might.

Beckett chuckled. “Poor Maggie. It looks like I should be asking you that question.”

“Yeah.” Maggie smiled wryly. “Whose idea was it to take the ferry instead of flying in anyway?”

“That was your bright idea, if you recall. You said it would keep things… authentic , I think was the exact word.”

“Okay, well, next time I want to be authentic, talk some sense into me.”

“I recall trying to do that as well.” Beckett grimaced. He’d tried to talk her out of coming at all, but ever since she’d learned that he’d grown up in an island town where cars weren’t allowed, she’d insisted that their new movie had to be shot there. And since she was the director, she had won.

“Hmm, well.” Maggie shrugged, coming to a jerky stop next to him, her hands still clutching the rail for dear life. “I never was very sensible.”

“You can say that again.” Beckett grinned. This was their fourth movie together, so he knew her well enough now to joke around, and he enjoyed the easy camaraderie they shared—though it certainly hadn’t been that way when they’d first met.

“Where are the others?” He glanced over his shoulder, searching out the rest of the cast and crew.

“Inside. Enjoying the air conditioning.”

Beckett nodded, though he had always preferred the wind to AC.

“So are you?” Maggie asked. “Doing okay?”

Beckett let out a long breath, waves choppier than those of the lake stirring up his stomach again.

“Isn’t there a little part of you that’s excited to be going home after all this time?” she coaxed.

Beckett considered the question. But he honestly didn’t know the answer. When he’d left at the age of eighteen, he’d promised himself that he’d never come back.

Of course, he’d also promised himself that he’d never believe in God, and here he was, a co-producer on his latest Christian film.

“I’m not sure how I feel about it,” he finally answered.

“Well, I think it sounds like a magical place,” she offered, shooting him a look that dared him to contradict her.

Beckett made a noncommittal sound that he hoped would placate her. The island had been a magical place. For the first two months he lived there.

And then everything had fallen apart.

“It has a lot of memories,” he said finally.

“Memories can be a good thing,” she said. “Even if they’re not all happy.”

Beckett stared out over the water as the hazy outline of the island came into view. His memories of this place definitely weren’t all happy. In fact, most of them were downright miserable. Not only the things that had happened—but the person he had been then.

“I’m going to go tell the others to get out here.” Maggie squeezed his arm. “I don’t want them to miss our first view of the island.”

Beckett nodded absently. The island’s shores were coming into clearer focus, and he used the moment alone to steel himself. It was only for two months, and then he could leave again and re-instate his promise never to return.

With that resolution made, he could smile at the small group that filtered to stand at the railing around him. They were operating on a skeleton crew for this movie and would recruit extras from the island as needed.

“Wow, it looks like a storybook.” His co-star, Sadie Pieper, leaned over the railing as if she were trying to win a photo finish race.

Beckett grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. “Unless you want the story to be Jaws , keep yourself in the boat.”

Sadie laughed. “It’s a lake, Beckett, not the ocean.” But she straightened. “It really is beautiful, though.”

The white sand beaches were visible now, as was the lush green of the trees that blanketed much of the island.

“Why aren’t we staying there?” Andre, their cameraman, pointed toward the southeast end of the island, where the luxurious Shore View Palace resort looked out majestically over the lake.

“My dad’s place is nearly as nice,” Beckett reassured him. He supposed it was his place, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to call it that. “And it won’t cost us half the production budget to stay there for two months.”

“Long as we can still get to all the good food.” Andre squinted toward the shore. “You said there’s good food, right?”

Beckett laughed. “There was when I left, yes. And this place never changes.”

“And you’re sure we’re not imposing?” Brynn, who would handle costumes, makeup, and props, asked, her short, spiky hair framing a furrowed brow.

“I’m sure,” Beckett answered. “As long as you all are sure you don’t mind sharing rooms.” He hadn’t been back to the house—or the island, for that matter—since he’d left. After Dad’s death, he’d considered selling the house, but his financial adviser suggested turning it into a vacation rental, and Beckett had reluctantly conceded. It turned out to have been a good decision—the income from the rental was helping to bankroll this production. Beckett only wished he could believe his dad would have been happy to know that. Mom would have loved it, he reminded himself.

“We don’t mind,” Brynn said cheerfully. “It will be like having a big sleepover.”

“Oh my goodness, look at all the boats.” Sadie pointed to the harbor. “Are there any grizzled old sea captains?”

Beckett shook his head. “Not that I know of.” The tone of the ferry’s engines changed, and he nearly lost his footing as the boat slowed.

Maggie, who had apparently found her sea legs, smirked at him.

“Oh wow, look at the horse and carriage.” Sadie clapped her hands. “This place keeps getting better and better.”

Beckett shrugged. Tourists always loved the horse-drawn carriages that traveled the island, but Beckett had never thought they were a big deal. It wasn’t like the island was so big that you couldn’t walk wherever you wanted to go.

“I see a restaurant,” Andre shouted triumphantly as the ferry slid into the same spot it had been sliding into since the first time Beckett had come to the island at the age of ten.

“Fresh Catch,” Andre read the blue sign that fronted the cheerful white building with a giant rainbow trout statue in front of it. “Is it any good?”

Beckett shrugged. “Never heard of it. It must be new.”

“And you said this place never changes.” Sadie elbowed him. “Looks like it might surprise you.”

“Maybe,” Beckett murmured, but his eyes were caught on a boat that was pulling up to one of the piers that lined the marina beyond the ferry landing. The boat was larger than most in the marina and fitted with multiple fishing rod holders and outriggers. But his eyes skimmed over the gear to the woman who jumped lithely out of the vessel, rope in hand. Her long blonde ponytail fell in front of her face as she tied the rope to the cleats on the pier, then said something to the group of five or six men still aboard the boat. They all laughed and got off too.

“Well, she’s not exactly a grizzled old sea captain,” Maggie joked.

“No, not exactly.” Beckett attempted to tear his eyes away from the woman.

It had to be Josephine Fletcher, there was no question in his mind.

“Ah.” Maggie gave him an I-know-what’s-going-on-here look. “I take it she’s the reason you were so worried about coming back to the island?”

Beckett didn’t answer.

“Oh, I love to be right.” Maggie clapped her hands. “It’s so poetic. Getting a second chance at romance while filming a second chance romance? That is such a God thing.”

Beckett shook his head. Maggie might be right that Jo was one of the reasons he’d stayed away from the island. But there would be no second-chance romance for them. There had never been a first-chance romance—not that either of them had wanted one.

And he didn’t want one now either.

“We’d better get to the vans.” Beckett turned away from the marina. “We don’t want to hold up the other people waiting to get off.”

As they headed for the lower level, where the vehicles they’d driven from Nashville to Michigan were parked, Beckett worked hard to keep from swiveling for another look at Jo.

He had promised himself that he would apologize if he saw her—though he had secretly hoped she’d moved away from the island so he wouldn’t have to face her.

Still, a promise was a promise.

He fished the van keys out of his pocket and passed them to Andre. “I need to do something quick. There’s a parking area over there.” He pointed down Harbor Road to the west. Although vehicles were allowed on the island, they weren’t permitted in the town itself. “Why don’t you park the van, and I’ll meet up with you guys in five minutes and give you a tour of the town.”

“And what exactly do you need to do?” Maggie raised her eyebrows as if she already knew.

Beckett ignored the question and strode toward the line of passengers getting off the ferry on foot.