Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 18

Jo leaned her elbows on the railing that surrounded Fresh Catch’s outdoor patio. Across Harbor Way, the sun was dropping its last golden rays onto the water in long, receding tendrils. A cool breeze brushed against her cheek, carrying the soothing scent of the lake.

Jo tried to draw comfort from it. But birthdays always made her feel a little melancholy. It wasn’t that she minded getting older—that was just a fact of life. But birthdays made her reflect on her life—on the mistakes she had made, on how things had turned out so differently from what she’d planned, on—she hated to admit it—how lonely it was sometimes to be a single parent.

Well, you brought that on yourself , the little voice that was always waiting to remind her of her sin jumped in.

She sighed. She should go back inside. There were still people here. There was food. There was laughter.

But there was also Beckett.

Why was there Beckett?

Obviously, someone had told him about the party. Lisa, if she had to guess.

But why had he come? And why did he have to look so nice? Why did he have to say such nice things after she had been so awful to him on the boat?

The sound of the door opening behind her made Jo jump, and she spun around. “Sorry, I was just—” The sight of Beckett stole her words.

“No, I’m sorry.” Beckett hadn’t come any closer. “I was just going to get some air. But I’ll let you . . .”

“There’s probably enough air for both of us.” The words came out as if someone else had put them in Jo’s mouth.

Beckett watched her for a moment, as if unsure what to do, then started slowly toward the railing.

Jo turned around and went back to watching the sunset as the golden tendrils shape-shifted across the waves.

“It’s pretty.” Beckett’s comment was casual, and he had left a good four feet of railing between them. Jo didn’t know if that was for her benefit or for his—but either way she was grateful.

“So you weren’t kidding about not wanting to be the center of attention, huh?” Beckett asked.

Jo laughed. “Not really, no.”

“Is that why you didn’t come to be an extra with your friends the other day?”

Jo considered the question, trying to figure out what was behind it. “That was part of the reason,” she finally answered.

Beckett didn’t press for more, and she relaxed a little.

You should apologize for what you said on the boat, her conscience nudged.

Jo groaned inwardly. She knew it was right, but—

“Do birthdays make you miss your mom?” Beckett asked abruptly.

Jo turned to him in surprise, but he was staring out over the water. His hair lifted lightly in the breeze.

“Yeah,” she said honestly. “They do.”

“Me too.”

Jo swallowed. The last time she’d tried to talk to him about his mother’s death had led to years and years of animosity.

“My dad always worked hard to make my birthdays special though.” It seemed like a safe direction to steer the conversation. “Took me fishing or hiking. Tried to make me a cake a couple of times, but that was a disaster, so he started getting cupcakes from Cathy’s.”

Beckett laughed. “Probably a smart move.”

“Did your dad do anything special for your birthdays?”

Beckett shook his head, his hands tightening against the railing. “If he remembered it was my birthday, I considered that special.”

“You and your dad weren’t close?” Now that Jo thought about it, she guessed she’d never really seen his dad at any school events. But she’d always assumed that since they’d both lost their mothers, they both had close relationships with their fathers.

“Not after my mom died.” Beckett’s voice was low, and Jo found herself sliding a little closer to hear him better. “That messed him up pretty good. He kind of shut himself away after that. If he wasn’t traveling for work, he was locked up in his study.”

“I . . .” Jo didn’t know what to say to that. All those years Beckett had made her life miserable, she had never paused to consider that his life might be miserable too. He’d always seemed so . . . unfeeling. Heartless, even. “I’m sorry.”

Beckett shook his head. “Yeah, well, real life isn’t exactly like the movies, is it?”

Jo laughed. She knew that well enough. “How did your mom . . .” she asked tentatively. She didn’t think she had ever heard. What if his mother had—

“They never figured it out.” Beckett ran a hand through his hair, then massaged the back of his neck. “She just collapsed one day, two months after we moved here. My dad was on a business trip, and I had gone to the beach with Carson Gray. Remember him? I think he moved away when we were in seventh grade or something.”

Jo nodded silently.

“Anyway, I got home, and I called out to tell her how much fun I’d had, and she didn’t answer. I found her on the living room floor.” He shook his head, his mouth contorting.

“You’re the one who found her?” Jo whispered. Her heart ached suddenly for the ten-year-old boy who had gone through that. The distance between them grew smaller, but she wasn’t sure if she’d moved or he had.

“At first, I thought she was looking for something under the couch. But when I asked her what she was doing, she didn’t answer.” Beckett stopped and cleared his throat. “Sorry. I dropped to my knees next to her, and I was just sort of screaming this prayer, ‘Please, God, help me. Please help me.’ And I was trying to roll her over, but I couldn’t. But her eyes were open, and I knew. She was already gone.” Beckett dropped his elbows to the railing and nested his forehead on his fists.

“And that’s why you hated God so much.” Jo wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. She wouldn’t wish something like that on her worst enemy. Not even on Beckett.

“My dad came home,” Beckett said, almost as if he hadn’t heard her, “and I told him, I said, ‘Dad, I tried to pray for her, I really did. I’m sorry it didn’t work.’ And he told me he didn’t ever want to hear the words God or prayer in his house again. He said we were done with God. I pointed out that Mom believed in God, and he said, ‘Does it look to you like God cared about her? About us?’” He let out a breath and lifted his head. “And the only answer I could give him was, ‘No.’”

Jo exhaled too, searching for something to say that would be anywhere near adequate. “I didn’t know—”

The strands of lights strung around the deck railing suddenly burst to life, and Jo realized with a start that the sun had completely set now.

Beckett seemed surprised too. “Sorry. This isn’t the kind of thing you want to talk about on your birthday.”

“No,” Jo said slowly, feeling as if somehow the past few minutes had been a strange dream. “I’m glad you told me. I guess I always thought—”

“That I was a jerk just for the sake of being a jerk?”

Jo laughed in surprise. She supposed he wasn’t far wrong there. “I guess I didn’t really consider any other possibility.”

“I’ve never told anyone before,” Beckett said quietly. “About finding her.”

“Oh.” Jo swallowed roughly. “Listen, about the other day on the boat.”

Beckett looked at her quizzically, and it occurred to her that maybe he didn’t even remember what she’d said. Maybe it hadn’t phased him at all. In which case, there was really no point in apologizing.

“Oh, there you are.”

Jo whirled around at the sound of Lisa’s voice. She hadn’t heard the door open.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Lisa beamed at them with about the widest grin Jo had ever seen anyone wear. “But it’s time for cake and presents.”

“I don’t need cake and presents,” Jo protested. But she moved toward the door anyway, realizing suddenly that she needed some space—a lot of space—from Beckett.

Being out here alone with him, listening to his story, seemed to have woven some kind of dangerous spell over her.

“You coming?” Lisa called to Beckett.

“Be there in a minute,” he called back.

Maybe he needed some space too.

“So . . .” Lisa grabbed Jo’s arm.

Jo shook her head. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. He was telling me about his mom, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” was Lisa’s only reply, but Jo could hear the meaning behind it.

She chose to ignore it and instead dutifully began opening gifts, her eyes straying only occasionally to the patio, where Beckett still watched the lake.

She came to an unmarked gift bag and gasped as she pulled out a tinkling set of wind chimes. She’d eyed them in Gifted a hundred times, but it had seemed too frivolous to splurge on them when things were so tight.

“From you?” She looked to Lisa.

But her friend shook her head with a sly smile. “Beckett came in carrying a bag like that.”

“He did not,” Jo shot back, calling her friend’s bluff.

“He did.” Chloe backed Lisa up. “I even told Derrick that I wanted to find out where he got the cute gift bag.”

Jo’s face warmed, and hard as she tried to fight against it, her eyes traveled to the door again. But the patio was empty now.

She scanned the room, but there was no sign of Beckett anywhere.

Ah, well. That was probably for the best.

Jo lifted the wind chimes and gave them a little tap with her finger.

“Do you like them?” The voice from behind her sent her stomach into a sudden swoop, as if she’d just steered her heart over the crest of a wave.

She nodded, resisting the desperate urge to cool her cheeks with her hands. “I do, thank you.” She was pretty sure her voice sounded normal—maybe even a little prim and cool.

Which was good.

Because he was still the same guy he used to be.

Although his victorious smile—as if he was genuinely pleased that he’d given her something she liked—made it harder to hold onto that belief.

Still, she had to—otherwise, she might let herself do something stupid.

Like fall for him.