Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 9

“You know what I don’t understand?” Sadie shifted on her beach blanket and turned to Beckett, who had been reviewing his lines for tomorrow’s scenes.

“What?” he asked absently.

“Why you ever moved away from this place. I mean, if you ask me, it’s about as close to heaven as you can get on earth. It even has sanctuary in its name.”

Beckett didn’t look up from his script. “I just wanted a change, I guess.”

An escape, more like, but he didn’t say that.

“Well, if I lived here, I would never leave,” Sadie said definitively. “In fact, maybe I’ll move here someday.”

“You do that,” Beckett mumbled.

“Would you ever move back?”

“Nope.” Beckett reread the same line for the eighth time.

“Not even for Josephine Fletcher?”

The script fell out of Beckett’s hand, its pages fluttering in the lake breeze. “What? Of course not. She’s . . . got a kid.”

Sadie wrinkled her forehead. “I thought you liked kids?”

“I like kids just fine.” He liked Jo’s kid—she was sweet and funny and the way she had confided in him earlier had stolen his heart. “But if she has a kid, then she also had that kid with someone.”

“True. But she doesn’t wear a ring,” Sadie pointed out.

Beckett didn’t say anything—there was no reason to tell Sadie he’d noticed that too.

“Plus, I overheard one of the ladies at church joking with her about having a grandson she wanted to set Jo up with. So she must be a single mom.”

Beckett shrugged.

“Oh, don’t pretend you’re not interested.” Sadie elbowed him. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. You two obviously have a history.”

Beckett shook his head. “It’s not what you think.”

Sadie studied him a moment, then shrugged. “Have it your way. Don’t tell me. I’m going to join the others in beach volleyball. Want to come?”

Beckett shook his head. “Nah. I’m going to look at this a little longer, then read my Bible.”

Sadie nodded and waved, then jogged to join the others.

Beckett spent ten more minutes on his script, then pulled out the Bible Maggie had given him for his birthday, opening to where he had left off in Ephesians. This was still his first time reading all the way through the Bible, and he had been going slowly, both to soak it in and because his dyslexia had always made him a slower reader, although he had learned strategies that helped him work within his challenges, instead of against them.

He started reading, pausing after a few seconds to highlight verses 4 and 5: “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.” He had definitely fit the description of “dead in your transgressions and sins.” He had been so angry with God for so many years, so opposed to him and anyone who believed in him. And yet, God had sought him out and brought him to faith anyway. The sheer magnitude of that kind of grace still stunned him, although he sometimes worried it must be some kind of mistake. Surely, God hadn’t meant to save him , of all people.

“Mr. Beckett!” The small but enthusiastic voice drew his head up, and he smiled as he spotted Sam running across the sand toward him.

“Well, hey there,” he greeted her as she stopped in front of him. “You look more cheerful now.”

“I am.” Sam grinned at him. “The beach is my favorite place. I can’t believe my mom let us come today.” She leaned in and not-quite-whispered, “She doesn’t like the beach.”

“No?” Beckett’s eyes caught on Jo, who was a good thirty yards back yet, walking toward them as if heading to the executioner. Beckett chose to use Sam’s comment as proof that Jo’s expression was because she was at the beach—not because she was headed toward him. She had changed out of her church clothes into denim shorts and a t-shirt that would have made her look casual and friendly—if not for the glare she was lasering at him.

“She doesn’t like cold water and wet sand,” Sam said, pulling Beckett’s attention back to her. “Can I put my towel here?”

“Of course.”

Sam unrolled the beach towel tucked under her arm and tried to spread it on the sand, but the wind flipped the edges.

Beckett set his Bible down on his own blanket and got up to help her. “I like your mermaid towel.”

“Thank you.” Sam dropped her bag on top of the towel and kicked off her sandals.

“Hurry up, Mommy,” she called, though Jo was only a few feet away now.

“Why don’t we move our stuff over there?” Jo pointed vaguely down the beach, and Beckett smirked. She wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding the fact that she wanted to sit anywhere but near him. Then again, maybe she didn’t want to hide it.

“I like this spot,” Sam insisted. “Can I swim now?”

Jo looked like she was debating whether to continue the argument. Finally, she set her towel on the far side of Sam’s. “Yes. I’ll come with you.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “But you never come in the water with me. You’re not even wearing your swimming suit.”

“Well, I’m coming today,” Jo said. “I’ll be fine in my shorts.”

Beckett chuckled to himself. It seemed he had inspired a sudden love of swimming in Jo.

“What?” Jo spun on him with a glare.

Oops. Apparently the chuckle wasn’t as much to himself as he’d thought. “Nothing. Have a good swim.”

“We will.” Sam waved, then paused. “Do you want to come with us, Mr. Beckett?”

Jo froze, the look of dread on her face almost eliciting another chuckle from Beckett. He should say yes, just to see what she’d do. But he didn’t want to ruin her day—or her time with her daughter.

“Maybe later,” he finally said. “I want to finish reading my Bible first.”

Jo made a tsking sound that could have been disbelief or disgust, and Beckett considered picking up his Bible and opening it to the page he had been highlighting to prove it to her.

But she had already turned and started down the beach.

“You should come in when you’re done reading,” Sam said, then took off across the sand after her mother.

Beckett turned his attention back to his Bible, but he found his eyes constantly lifting to scan the water. Jo stood several feet from shore, in water up to her knees, and Sam was a little farther out, jumping into the waves and then swimming back to shore.

Every once in a while, she swam close to her mother, kicking up such a wake that Jo turned her head to avoid the splashing. But she was smiling, and that smile brought an involuntary grin to Beckett’s lips. Motherhood clearly agreed with her.

A memory of his own mother, playing in these very same waters with him, washed over Beckett, along with a deep sense of longing. For his mother—although it had been twenty years since she died. But also for something else. For what Sam and Jo had. For what all of these people here at the beach had.

Family.

It was a silly desire. He knew that most of what he saw was only superficial. Who knew what kinds of troubles each of these so-called happy families hid under the surface.

Happily-ever-afters only happen in the movies , he reminded himself.

He scanned the beach again, and his eyes caught on Jo, striding toward his spot, alone. His heart did a funny sort of double-step, and he dropped his eyes back to his Bible. But he couldn’t for the life of him find the spot where he’d left off.