Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 25

Beckett stood at the back of the boat, manning the lines as Jo steered past Anderson Island. The sun glinted off the water, and Beckett squinted, hoping he wouldn’t miss a bite if they got one. So far, they’d caught a couple of little cohos and a lake trout, and those were all in the live well, but they were nowhere near good enough to win the tournament.

Come on, Lord , he prayed. She really needs this.

He pushed up the sleeves of his shirt. The day had warmed with the sun, but Jo still wore his sweatshirt.

And he had to admit that he liked it. The way it hung to the middle of her thighs. The way she’d had to roll the sleeves up to stick her hands out of them. The way it made him feel as if they were . . .

Jo glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes widened. Beckett feared that maybe his thoughts were written on his face—until she pointed over his shoulder. “Fish!”

Beckett spun around. Sure enough, one of the poles arched nearly in half. He moved to the rod holder and grabbed the reel handle, cranking slowly at first to make sure the hook was set.

He felt a thrashing at the other end of the line.

“I’ve got it,” he called. “It’s a big one.”

The sound of the motor eased as Jo slowed the boat.

“Come reel it in,” he called over his shoulder. “It’s yours.”

“You’ve got it,” she called back.

Beckett shook his head. “Get over here and reel it in, or I’ll let it go.”

“You wouldn’t.” Jo sounded completely confident—and she was right, but still. This was her moment, and he was not going to steal it from her.

“Try me.” He stopped reeling and took one hand off the pole. “Three. Two.”

Jo slid into his side, her hand covering his on the rod.

Beckett chuckled. “I thought you said I wouldn’t do it.”

Jo tugged the rod from him. “I thought you said you would.” She started to reel. “It’s still there! It feels big.”

Beckett hurried to grab the net, then stood peering over the side of the boat, waiting for the moment when—

“I see it!” he shouted. “It’s huge.”

The fish’s silver form rippled against the waves.

He leaned forward to slide the net into the water, careful not to knock the fish off the hook. His muscles strained as he hefted it into the boat.

Jo set the fishing pole down, breathing as heavily as he was. “It’s huge,” she breathed in awe.

“I know.” Beckett laughed. “I wasn’t lying.”

“I mean.” Jo shook her head, looking disbelieving. “That’s the biggest coho I’ve ever seen.”

“Me too.” Beckett pulled out his phone and started snapping pictures. “It could be a record. Congratulations.”

“You’re the one who hooked it—”

“Oh no you don’t.” Beckett pointed at her. “I’m not going to take credit for a fish you caught just because I happened to touch the pole first.”

“Well then, I guess we’ll have to share the credit.”

Her simple comment did something crazy to Beckett’s heart. “Works for me. And while we’re sharing credit, how about we share lunch too?”

Jo looked up from extracting the hook from the fish’s mouth, her eyes wide. “I totally forgot to bring lunch.” She glanced toward the doorway to the cabin. “There are probably some protein bars down there.”

“Protein bars are not lunch.” Beckett scooped up his backpack and patted it. “This is lunch.”

“Coffee last time, lunch this time.” Jo squinted at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to bribe me to like you.”

“Is it working?” Beckett stooped to help her hoist the fish into the live well.

“We’ll see how good lunch is,” she answered with a smile that almost made him think she might be flirting with him—heavy emphasis on the almost and the might .

He went below deck to wash his hands, then started laying out the food as she washed hers. He was no chef, so it was nothing fancy—just some chicken salad, turkey and cheese wraps, apple slices, bananas, cheese and crackers, and cold pizza he’d thrown in at the last second.

The sound of laughter made him look up. “What’s so funny?”

Jo was standing right next to him, the sparkle of the lake reflected in her eyes.

“This isn’t lunch. It’s a feast .”

Beckett shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I thought it was best to have options.”

“Oh.” Jo seemed to breathe out the word. “That was . . . thoughtful.”

Beckett chuckled, daring to nudge her arm lightly. “Don’t sound so surprised. And there’s one thing I know you’ll like.” He pulled out a container and opened it, waving his hand over the top to waft the heavenly scent of fresh fudge toward her.

Her eyes widened. “You made fudge?”

“Well, I bought fudge from Confections for All Occasions. Does that count?”

Jo nodded. “It might even count double. Their fudge is incredible.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He held the container out to her. “An appetizer?”

Something about being out on the lake—or maybe catching that whopper—seemed to have freed Jo’s laughter, and she let it loose again. “Why not?”

She picked out a piece but didn’t take a bite. “Should we give thanks first?”

“Absolutely. Do you want to? Or should I?”

“I can do it,” Jo offered, but it didn’t feel like a snub or like she didn’t think Beckett was worthy. It felt more like she was opening herself up to him.

Beckett breathed a silent prayer of thanks for that as Jo began praying out loud.

“Lord Jesus, thank you for giving us the opportunity to be out in your creation today. Thank you that Beckett was willing to give up his day to be out here with me—I mean, to help me with the tournament.”

Beckett caught the way she corrected herself and considered interrupting to correct her correction. The reason he was out here was to be with her.

“Thank you for the huge fish we caught. Whether it wins the tournament or not, help us to trust in you and your plans and all the ways you provide for us. Thank you for Beckett’s thoughtfulness in bringing all of this food. May it nourish our bodies even as your Word nourishes our souls. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

“Amen.” Beckett opened his eyes before she did. Her skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, and her hair swirled around her head in tantalizing strands. One blew across her face, and before Beckett could stop himself, he was reaching for it.

Her eyes opened just as his finger made contact with the silky strand. She startled a little but didn’t pull away, and he tucked the hair behind her ear, then lowered his hand and bit into his fudge.

Jo hesitated a moment, then followed suit, groaning as the fudge crossed her lips.

When the fudge was gone, Beckett passed her a paper plate, taking another for himself. They stacked their plates high, and through lunch and into the afternoon of fishing they chatted about the movie and Jo’s dad’s recovery and about Sam and Lisa and church. She told him more about her mom, and he talked about his.

Now and then their conversation was punctuated by the excitement of catching another fish. They didn’t bring in anything nearly as big as the earlier fish, but they caught several respectable coho, as well as a few walleyes that Jo said she would sell to Lisa for the restaurant.

Beckett couldn’t remember ever enjoying talking to anyone more in his life.

But he noticed there was one topic Jo very carefully avoided. Finally, he worked up the courage to say, “Can I ask you about something?”

Jo gazed at him for a long moment. “If it’s something you think you need permission to ask about, the answer is probably no.”

“Fair enough.” Beckett checked on the line nearest him. It was none of his business anyway.

“You want to know about Sam’s dad, right?” Jo stared out over the water, and Beckett wished he hadn’t brought it up. He didn’t actually want her thinking about another man at the moment.

“Never mind. I don’t need to know.”

Jo didn’t reply to that, but she eased her arms out of his sweatshirt and passed it back to him. They went on fishing, although the conversation ebbed.

“We should head in,” Jo announced much too soon. “Final weigh-in is at five, and they won’t take late entries.

Reluctantly, Beckett reeled in the lines and helped secure the rods in the storage lockers, all the while trying to figure out how to take back the unasked question that now seemed to stand as a wall between them. He couldn’t find any way to do it though, so he’d just have to hope she forgot about it by the time they got back to the island.

With everything safely stowed, they took their seats, and Jo started the engine and pushed the throttle up.

Wind whipped past them, sending her hair flying across the small space and into his face.

With a laugh, he brushed it away. Her fingers tangled with his as she tried to do the same thing, and Beckett caught them for a moment, not letting go until she tugged them away. But she was smiling as she deftly secured her hair into a ponytail and then returned her hands to the wheel.

The ride back was comfortably quiet, and Beckett savored the view of turquoise waves and tree-cloaked shorelines and geese flying overhead, marveling that this place he’d dreaded coming back to now called to him in a way it never had when he’d lived here. He had a sneaking suspicion that the woman next to him might have something to do with that. But that wasn’t all. It was also God.

It was like each day Beckett could feel the Lord binding up another broken piece of his life.

“Look,” Jo called, pointing toward the trees along the shore. “An eagle.”

Beckett squinted but saw only unmarked blue sky and fall-kissed trees. “Where?”

“Right there.” Jo pointed again. “You really don’t see it?”

Beckett shook his head. “I really don’t.”

The hum of the motor quieted, and the boat slowed so abruptly that Beckett nearly fell out of his seat. He grabbed the console in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

Jo stood and moved to his side. “Over there.” She squatted next to him and pointed again toward the trees. “Sitting on that branch.” Her arm brushed his, and he leaned closer. “See it now?”

Beckett looked down at her. “Yeah,” he answered hoarsely.

She glanced up, tsking at him. “You’re not even looking.”

“I am.” He was looking squarely at what his future could be like, if he was brave enough.

Jo shook her head with a laugh. Her hand came to his cheek, steering his head toward the trees. “It’s that way.”

“Oh.” Beckett’s eyes instantly picked out the bird, but he wasn’t about to say anything that would break this contact.

“Do you see it?” she prompted.

He waited another moment before answering. “I see it.”

“For real?”

“For real.”

“Good.” Jo dropped her hand and moved back to her seat, revving the engine back up to full speed as if nothing had just changed between them.

Beckett let out a long breath. Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe she always went to such lengths to point out eagles to her passengers.

She turned and smiled at him.

Then again, maybe not.