Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 4

Jo sighed as she caught sight of the time. She’d told Gail she’d stop by to pick Sam up by 4:00. And it was 4:15 now. Not that Gail would mind a bit. Still, Jo shut down the computer. She’d been trying to catch up on some accounting for Reel Adventures, but the numbers were starting to go blurry in front of her. No matter how long she stared at them, she couldn’t quite figure out how they would pay the bills come winter. The summer had been plenty busy, but they’d had to have some engine work done on the Reel Blessed , which meant they were behind where she’d like to be financially going into the off-season. This was the last week of August, and with schools starting everywhere soon, things would start to slow down on weekdays. They had another month—maybe two—of busy weekends before it got too cold for the touristy types who made up most of their client base, at least until ice fishing season, when they’d likely have a few clients looking for guides.

Well, as long as they didn’t have any big expenses this winter, they should be fine. She would just have to hope her daughter didn’t break her arm ice skating again this year.

She jotted a quick note to herself to register for the Sanctuary Salmon Spectacular. She and Dad had never won the fishing tournament—but even a tenth-place finish would mean a few hundred extra dollars. She wouldn’t even dream about what winning the first-place prize of $10,000 would be like.

She pushed her chair back and stretched, then fixed her ponytail, locked up the small building, and headed up Main Street and through the town square—which was actually shaped like a circle, a standing joke among permanent residents and tourists alike. In the late afternoon, it bustled with folks headed into The Pearl ice cream shop and Confections for All Occasions candy store and Gifted souvenir shop and Lake Breeze clothing store. In another month, most of the shops would close for the season, and the town would feel like a completely different place. Though she and her father needed the tourist season for their livelihood, Jo couldn’t deny that she was looking forward to the peacefulness of the off season. Maybe more than usual, if it meant that Beckett would leave the island again too.

Oh, why did he have to come back? Because her life wasn’t complicated enough the way it was? Because juggling raising a child and keeping a business afloat wasn’t enough to worry about without being afraid that she might run into him at any moment? Because she had finally moved on from all of the hateful things he had said—and done—over the years?

She glared toward the gazebo in the center of the town square.

A couple stood inside it, their arms wrapped around each other, and Jo looked away so they wouldn’t think she was glaring at them. She knew the gazebo was a favorite spot for many, but for her, it would always be the sight of her ultimate humiliation at Beckett’s hands.

No. She stopped her thoughts.

Thinking about him wasn’t worth her time.

She strode purposefully past the gazebo, fixing her gaze on the yellow Hummingbird and Bluebell bed and breakfast, where her friend Chloe was the chef. She turned left onto West Third Street, passing Whimsical Pages, the town bookstore, and hurried the last two blocks to the parsonage next door to Prince of Peace. All of the tension from the day seemed to disappear as she spotted Sam and Gail blowing bubbles in the front yard while Boss the golden retriever chased them down, chomping as many as he could before they hit the ground.

Gail spotted Jo first and lifted a hand to wave. Jo waved back, thanking God once again for the pastor’s wife, who had been a lifesaver since the day Sam was born, watching the girl whenever Jo and Dad were working, whether that was at the crack of dawn or well after sunset. She charged so little for her services that Jo doubted the money did much more than cover the cost of the extra groceries Gail had to buy to feed Sam. But Gail wouldn’t hear of taking more—she insisted that Jo was doing her a favor by letting her watch the girl, since she only saw her own grandchildren a couple of times a year. Sam had even taken to calling her Grandma Gail—something that Jo knew tickled Gail to no end.

“Hey, Sammycakes,” Jo called.

“Mommy!” Sam dropped her bubble wand into the soapy water and ran to Jo, who grunted as she scooped the growing seven-year-old into her arms.

She squeezed tight, burying her face in her daughter’s hair. Sam might not have been part of her plans, but boy, she could not imagine her life without the girl. “How was your day?”

“It was so good.” Sam pulled back, her enthusiastic grin revealing the spot where new teeth were growing in to replace the two she had lost a couple of weeks ago. Another reminder that her little girl was growing up fast.

“Good.” Jo set the girl down. “Go clean up your stuff.” She nudged her daughter back toward the bubbles, but Grandma Gail waved her off.

“You can leave those. I’m still playing.”

Jo laughed. The woman was in her late 50s, but she was still a child at heart.

“Well, then, go grab your bag,” Jo urged her daughter. “We need to run to the store to grab some milk for breakfast and a few things for your lunches this week because, in case you didn’t know this, school is starting tomorrow!” She said the last part with a whole bucketful of enthusiasm, but still Sam made a face.

“I don’t see why I have to go to school,” she muttered. “I like coming to Grandma Gail’s better.”

Jo shook her head wearily. “Go get your things.”

Sam marched off dutifully, and Gail blew a string of bubbles at her as she passed, eliciting a reluctant giggle.

“I don’t know how we’re going to survive the school year,” Jo murmured to Gail as Sam disappeared into the house.

“Same way you get through all things,” Gail answered. “With the Lord’s strength.”

Jo nodded her assent, but the truth was, she wasn’t sure if even the Lord’s strength would be enough to get them through it. Last year, it had taken nearly every ounce of Jo’s patience to get her daughter to do her schoolwork—the girl especially resisted reading and spelling—and Jo was afraid she was starting this school year well behind most of her classmates.

Sam traipsed out of the house, her backpack slung over her shoulder, and Jo spent the block-and-a-half walk home trying to convince the girl to drum up even a little bit of enthusiasm for school, but nothing worked, and she finally gave up. She would rather have her daughter go to school cheerfully—but cheerful or not, she’d have to go.

At home, they dropped off Sam’s backpack, and Jo grabbed the wagon they would use to haul their groceries home. Although she went to the mainland a couple of times a month to stock up on everything, last time she was there, getting things for school lunches hadn’t even been on her radar. So they’d have to do a bigger shopping trip than usual at the island’s small market.

The six-block walk passed in relative silence, although Jo tried to break it up with questions about what Sam wanted to pack in her lunches—to which she received a sullen shrug. The only thing that brought out even the hint of a smile was an offer to buy some donuts for breakfast. It wasn’t exactly the nutritious meal she wanted her daughter to start her first day of school with, but if it gave Sam even a smidgen of willingness to go to school, it would be worth it.

When they reached the market, Jo left the wagon along the outside wall and grabbed a shopping cart instead.

“Can I ride on it?” Sam asked eagerly.

Jo nodded and waited for her daughter to get her feet in place on the bar at the bottom of the cart, then stood behind her, her arms braced on either side of the girl as she steered the cart to the small produce section.

“Do you want apples or ba—”

Jo stopped the cart so quickly that Sam’s head bounced into her chest. Jo let out a quiet “oof,” then bit her tongue and spun the cart in the other direction, her lungs heaving as if she’d just pushed her daughter in a shopping cart derby.

“Where are we going, Mommy?” Sam tilted her head backwards to look at Jo’s face. “Did you forget your wallet again?”

“No.” Jo gulped to get her breathing under control. “I just thought we should get some . . .” She glanced desperately around. “Watermelon.”

She moved to heft a big one into the cart, glancing over her shoulder as she did and letting out a breath.

Beckett must have gone down the next aisle.

Still, the market was small. What were the chances they wouldn’t run into each other at some point?

Well, they wouldn’t if she could help it.

She lingered in the produce department, examining every apple before bagging five of them, inspecting every bunch of bananas before picking one that was the perfect shade of yellow.

“I’m hungry,” Sam whined after three minutes.

“I know. We’ll have dinner after this.” She let Sam get back on the cart and pushed her to the end of the aisle. She made the world’s slowest turn into the next aisle, peering around the corner to make sure Beckett wasn’t there before stepping all the way into it.

Sam giggled. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” Jo kept her voice low, in case Beckett was nearby and might recognize it.

“Act like a spy. Are we playing spies?”

“I— Uh. Sure. I thought you would want to.” Spies did happen to be one of Sam’s favorite games.

“Yep.” Sam jumped off the cart and crept down the aisle. At the end, she peered around the corner, then back at Jo. “There’s someone down there,” she whispered.

Jo’s heart slammed against her ribs, but she made herself smile, like it was all part of the game. “Who?”

Sam shrugged. “Some man. I can’t see his face.” She tiptoed around the end cap, and Jo just barely resisted the urge to call her back.

She made herself follow, but she moved slowly, only letting out her breath when she realized the man was Tom Fuller, the fifth- and sixth-grade teacher at the school. Not Beckett.

Sam kept up her spy moves as they covered the next few aisles. Jo, too, spied out each corner before she took it, but there was no sign of Beckett. When they reached the dairy aisle, she let herself relax a little. Clearly, Beckett had already finished his shopping and left.

She loaded two gallons of milk into the cart and led Sam toward the checkout. She had already unloaded half of the cart onto the conveyor when Sam yelled, “We forgot the donuts!”

“Oh, you’re right.” Jo glanced over her shoulder. The bakery section was straight to the back of the store from here. “Can you go grab them?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Jo nodded. “You know where they are. Come right back up here with them.”

But Sam had already taken off with a skip in her step. Jo sighed. She didn’t love the idea of her daughter becoming more independent, but she supposed getting donuts at the store was a relatively small step.

She continued unloading the cart, looking down the aisle that led to the bakery every few seconds to see if Sam was on her way back. But by the time the cart was empty, there was still no sign of her daughter.

A notch of fear snagged at Jo’s chest. Sanctuary Island was the safest place in the world. But what if—

She glanced at the people waiting in line behind her—definitely tourists, with their swimming suits showing through their t-shirts—then handed the cashier her credit card. “I’ll be right back. My daughter was just grabbing some donuts . . .” She slid past the people behind her and half jogged down the aisle.

She jerked to a stop the minute she reached the bakery. There was her daughter—talking to Beckett Knox.