Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 21

“Hey, Beckett!”

Beckett stopped, carefully juggling the three ice cream cones in his hands. For half a second, he imagined it was Jo, and his heart took off.

But he turned to find Lisa hurrying toward him.

“Hungry?” She raised an eyebrow at his full hands.

He laughed. “You don’t happen to have seen Jo and Sam anywhere?” He’d asked a handful of people already, but though they all confirmed they’d seen Jo tonight, no one seemed to know where she’d gone.

“Last I saw, they were in line at The Pearl,” Lisa said, nodding sympathetically to his ice cream. “But the line was out the door, so if you hurry, you might be able to catch them before they order.”

“Great. Thanks.” He jogged toward The Pearl, clapping his wrists awkwardly as the barbershop quartet finished its song. He scanned the crowd, in case Jo and Sam had already gotten their ice cream and left the restaurant. He’d never gone to these Sunday night shindigs when he lived here, but he could see the appeal now. It was mostly islanders, with the occasional tourist mixed in, and the atmosphere was relaxed and homey.

He reached the ice cream shop and scanned the line. Jo and Sam weren’t outside, and he made his way closer to the building to look through the window.

There they were—next in line.

Beckett hurried to the door. “Excuse me. So sorry.” He wedged his way between people. “I promise I’m not cutting. I just need to . . .” He was through.

He lunged toward Jo just as she stepped up to the counter.

“Hi, Mr. Beckett.” Sam’s eyes widened. “Why do you have three ice cream cones?”

Jo’s head whipped toward him, her hair flaring out behind her, her eyes even wider than Sam’s.

There was something else behind her look too—but he couldn’t tell if it was something good or something bad, so he decided it was safest to stick to addressing Sam. “Seems I accidentally got too many. Do you know anyone who might like to help me eat them?”

Sam threw her hand in the air and jumped up and down. “I will. I will.”

“Thank you for volunteering.” He looked to Jo. “I guess we should get out of line.”

Jo nodded faintly. “I guess so.”

Beckett held out a cone to Sam.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who will help me eat the other one?” he asked as they moved to the exit.

“I can eat that one too,” Sam offered seriously.

At that, Jo’s delicious laugh rang out. “I don’t think so, young lady. One is enough.”

“Then maybe you’ll help me with the other one?” Beckett raised an eyebrow at Jo in silent challenge. “It’s cookie dough-brownie.”

They stepped out the door, and he held the cone out so that the ice cream was practically touching her mouth.

She bit her lip, and he could almost see the fight going on behind her eyes. He tipped the cone just a little further, so that the ice cream dabbed her lips.

“Beckett!”

But the moment her mouth opened, he tucked the top of the ice cream dome into it. “I guess you have to eat it now.”

Sam hooted wildly, and Jo glared but lifted her hand to the cone, her fingers wrapping around his.

Beckett froze, his eyes meeting hers. In the light from the old-fashioned lamps around the square, hers seemed to glow a soft silver.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

Beckett nodded, slowly peeling his fingers out from under hers.

As soon as their grip was broken, she looked away, and Beckett wished he’d held on a little longer.

“But we have to go home after this,” Jo warned Sam. “You have school tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me.” Sam’s huff was muffled as she attacked her ice cream cone. “I told Mommy you wouldn’t break your promise,” Sam said between bites. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry I got here later than I planned. Sadie had a rough day. She found out her mom is sick.” He looked at Jo. She would be able to relate to that just as well as he did.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Jo said quietly. “What does that mean for the movie?”

“I’m not sure yet. She wants to stay and try to keep things on schedule. We’re supposed to be done in five weeks, so . . .” Wow, when he said it that way, it seemed like such a short time.

Jo nodded, licking her cone gingerly.

“It’s not booby-trapped or anything,” Beckett promised, trying to lighten the mood that had suddenly grown too heavy.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Jo murmured, but Beckett was pretty sure she was joking too.

“Jo.” He turned to her, suddenly feeling earnest. After today’s sermon, he knew that he didn’t have anything to prove to her—or anyone else—but he really wanted her to know. “I really am sorry. About . . . everything. The names. The pranks. The . . . gazebo. If I could go back and undo it all . . .”

Her eyes met his, her mouth still on her ice cream. She pulled the cone away slowly, and he saw her neck ripple as she swallowed. “I know you are.” Her voice was barely audible over the crowd around them, but the words shot straight to Beckett’s heart.

“You do?” He took a step closer, nearly bumping her ice cream cone with his.

“I do. And . . .” She drew in such a long breath that he wondered where all that air could possibly be going. Then she let it out in a rush. “I forgive you.”

Beckett’s breath caught. “Do you mean that?”

Jo nodded and took another bite of her ice cream.

Apparently that was all Beckett was going to get. But it was more than enough for him.

He laughed, and Jo narrowed her eyes, her back stiffening. “Why is that funny? Is this some kind of prank?”

“It’s not funny,” Beckett reassured her. “And it’s definitely not a prank. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just— I should have tried ice cream sooner.”

Jo laughed too. “You did,” she pointed out. “It wasn’t the ice cream. It was . . .”

Beckett waited, watching a thousand things flash through her eyes—things he suddenly found himself longing to know. “Pastor Olsen’s sermon this morning opened my eyes to some things.”

Beckett nodded, marveling again at the power of God’s Word to work in hearts. “It was a message I needed to hear too.”

Jo’s eyes met his, and an understanding seemed to pass between them that lifted Beckett’s heart.

“So now what?” he asked lightly. “Maybe we can be friends?”

Jo didn’t look at him, but he was pretty sure the pink in her cheeks wasn’t only from the cold. She shrugged, but her lips curved a little. “We’ll see about that.”

Beckett laughed. “I’ll take it.”

“ We’re already friends, right Mr. Beckett?” Sam grinned, ice cream running down her chin.

“You bet.” Beckett held out a hand for a high five. Sam gave him a sticky one, and then he pivoted his hand to Jo. She eyed it but didn’t move.

Beckett waved his hand around.

“Come on, Mommy. Give him five.” Sam pleaded his case.

Jo rolled her eyes but lifted her hand, bringing it lightly to his. Beckett had to resist the urge to catch it and hold on.

Instead, he pulled his hand away and tucked it into his pocket. “Well, that’s a good start.”

They walked aimlessly around the square, eating their ice cream and listening to Sam chatter about the upcoming trunk-or-treat. Apparently, she’d decided she wasn’t so sure about the pirates. Beckett threw out some more suggestions: “Aliens from Mars.”

Sam giggled. “Too scary.”

“Pizza.”

Another giggle. “Too weird.”

“All right. I’ve got it—the Beatles.”

“Eww. I don’t want to be a bug.”

Jo’s laugh danced with Beckett’s, and he relished the sound.

“Not that kind of beetle,” she explained. “They were a band. Speaking of which—” She glanced toward the gazebo. “When did the band finish?”

Beckett shrugged. He hadn’t been aware of much other than Jo and Sam for the past little while.

“I guess we should get home.”

Was it wishful thinking, or did Jo sound regretful?

“But I’m not done with my ice cream,” Sam protested.

“You can eat it on the way.” Jo lifted her eyes to Beckett. “Thank you again for the ice cream.”

“I’ll walk you home.” Beckett wasn’t ready to be dismissed that easily, not now that she’d forgiven him. Not when there was a chance they could be friends. Or maybe more . The thought struck Beckett dumb, and he tried to make himself dismiss it.

But failed.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” Jo started, right as Sam said, “Can I have a piggyback ride?”

“Of course,” Beckett shook himself out of his thoughts. He could walk them home without it meaning anything. It was what any man on the island would do.

Although he suddenly didn’t like the thought of any other man doing it.

“How are you going to eat ice cream while you’re getting a piggyback ride?” Jo rested a hand on her hip as she eyed her daughter, and Beckett was tempted to tell her how adorable she looked standing there like that. But better sense won out.

“I’m talented,” Sam retorted, and Jo’s laugh mingled with his again. The sound was addictive, and Beckett tried to come up with a joke so he could hear it again.

Sam climbed onto his back, and he held her tight, chuckling as a drip of ice cream fell onto his shoulder.

“Oh, Sam,” Jo groaned and reached to wipe the drip away.

Beckett froze, even though he barely felt the wisp of her fingers through his shirt.

“Thanks,” he managed to choke out as he stood with Sam, anything humorous he might have come up with taking immediate flight in the seriousness of the feelings he was suddenly wrestling.

They started down the street, strolling past the groups of people who were dispersing. Beckett kept his pace slow, savoring the cool of the night and the warmth of Sam and Jo’s company.

The walk was mostly silent, but it was the kind of silence that came at the end of a good day.

When they reached the sidewalk leading up to Jo’s house, he realized he should say goodnight. But his feet kept going to the front door.

“All right, young lady,” Jo said when they stopped. “You go right inside and get ready for bed. No dilly-dallying.”

Beckett sniggered, and Jo raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I just liked that word. Dilly-dallying.”

Sam giggled. “Dilly-dallying,” she repeated.

“Yes, and that’s exactly what you’re doing.” Jo gave her a nudge toward the door.

“Wait.” Sam spun around. “Can I give Mr. Beckett a goodnight hug?”

Beckett heard a sharp inhale, but he couldn’t tell if it came from Jo or from himself.

“Yes,” he answered before Jo could beat him to the punch and tell Sam no.

He squatted and held his arms open, his eyes involuntarily closing when the little arms snugged around his neck. He didn’t even care that her hands were wet and sticky with ice cream. The little girl’s hug was so open, so trusting, so giving , and Beckett was suddenly aware of how long it had been since he’d been hugged.

“Goodnight.” Sam let go and scurried inside, and then it was just Beckett and Jo on the threshold. He didn’t know why he was afraid to look at her, but he made himself do it.

She was looking at him with…was that fear or hope?

“Your daughter is a special kid,” he said, his throat tight, and that seemed to break whatever had held Jo captive.

“I know.” She stepped through the door, then turned and offered him the tiniest smile. “Goodnight, Beckett.”

“Wait.” Beckett stepped forward, reaching for her arm but not touching it.

Jo’s gaze locked on his suspended arm.

Beckett cleared his throat. It probably would have been good to have something planned to say after that. “Uh. Sorry. I was just— Uh—” For pity’s sake, he was acting more awkward than the computer geek he’d played in one of his first movies. “We’re having a Bible study on Tuesday night.” He blurted the first thing that came into his head. “At my house. If you want to come.”

Smooth, Beckett, making it sound like you’re doing her a favor. He tried again, “I mean, I’d like you to come. If you’d like to.”

Oh man. He needed to shut up.

“Oh.” Jo’s gaze moved from his still suspended arm to his face, and he read the—was that confusion or dismay—in her expression.

“Sam is welcome too,” he added. “She could watch a movie or . . . something.”

Sheesh. Now Beckett knew what they meant in books when people wished the ground would open and swallow them. “Anyway.” He took a step backwards. “No pressure.”

Jo nodded, and he stepped off the small stoop.

“What time?” The question was so quiet that Beckett wasn’t sure if he’d heard it right.

“What’s that?”

“What time?” Jo repeated.

“Oh. Seven.” He grinned. “P.M.”

She nodded and started to close the door.

“So I’ll see you there?” Hope buoyed his heart.

“We’ll see.” Jo offered the tiniest of smiles. “Goodnight.”