Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 28

“It smells like Christmas in here,” Sam called from the bike trailer behind Beckett.

Beckett drew in a deep breath of the pine trees that blanketed both sides of the trail they were biking through Seven Pines State Park. Christmas had never smelled like this at his house—his dad had rarely bothered to put up their tiny artificial tree, let alone a real one.

“I want to smell Christmas at your house then,” he called over his shoulder to Sam, accidentally catching a glimpse of Jo, who biked next to him.

Her smile wilted a little, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was: he wouldn’t be here at Christmas. The thought nearly punched a hole through his lungs.

Why couldn’t he come back for Christmas? And New Year’s. And Valentine’s Day. And maybe . . .

“How about the lighthouse?” Jo called as they came to the end of the trail through the state park and back to Harbor Way.

“If you’re up for it.”

The lighthouse was on the far end of the island from the park, and they’d already put on a few miles looping back and forth on the trails, though they’d taken a nice long break along the shore for their picnic lunch.

Jo raised an eyebrow so that it disappeared adorably under her helmet. “I am if you are.”

“Oh, I am.” He grinned. He was up for anything that meant spending more time with her. They pulled out onto the road, still biking side by side, since there was little traffic out this way.

By the time they reached the empty lighthouse parking lot, they were both breathing heavily, and Beckett had to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Jo pulled her helmet off, her hair dancing wildly around her head in the wind. She laughed and caught at it, quickly restraining it into a ponytail. But she missed a wisp, and it blew across her eyes. This time, Beckett didn’t hesitate to hook a finger under it and slide it behind her ear, smoothing his fingers lightly over her cheek as he drew his hand back.

She took a step backwards and shook her head. “Beckett—”

“Come on! Let’s climb to the top.” Sam hopped out of the bike trailer and took off toward the lighthouse entrance.

Jo looked like she was going to say something else to him, but then she turned and hurried after Sam.

Beckett followed. To the side of the lighthouse was the Lantern Room—the historic keeper’s house that had been turned into the island’s fanciest restaurant. He suddenly had a vision of sitting across one of their tables from Jo, holding her hands, looking into her eyes, telling her how much he cared about her.

“Oof.” He ran smack into something, which he quickly realized was the woman he’d just been dreaming about. He wrapped his arms around her from behind to keep her from falling.

Sorry,” he breathed into her hair.

“That’s okay.” Jo wriggled deftly out of his arms, and Beckett suppressed a sigh. After their kiss last night, he’d been so sure things between them were finally moving forward. But it seemed for every wall he tore down, she put up two more.

He followed her through the lighthouse door, his eyes traveling up the spiral staircase that hugged the curved walls. “They must have renovated in here.”

Jo nodded. “Last summer, I think it was.”

White paint gleamed from walls that had been a dingy gray when he was a kid, and a solid wooden staircase had replaced the metal grate one he used to climb.

“Come on.” Sam started up the steps, her little legs making surprisingly quick work of them. Jo followed close behind her, and Beckett kept pace right behind them. Every story or so, the stairs opened onto a small landing with displays of historical documents and photographs. Sam didn’t pause to look at a single one—which meant Jo didn’t pause either. Beckett slowed enough to make out that the displays were about the lighthouse’s construction and the history of shipping in and around the island. But he didn’t linger to read them—he wasn’t going to miss out on time in the present to live in the past. He’d done too much of that in his life already.

When they reached the final landing, the stairs steepened to the point that they could have been considered a ladder, but that didn’t slow Sam down a bit.

“She’s not afraid of anything, is she?” Beckett chuckled as Sam barreled through the open trap door at the top.

“No,” Jo agreed. “But sometimes it would be easier if she was.” She gulped as she poked her head out the trap door.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Beckett called from below her.

She wouldn’t have suggested coming here if she was, would she?

“Not when I’m indoors. But outside is a slightly different matter.” She scrambled the rest of the way up the stairs but then froze.

“Here.” Beckett hurried up behind Jo and wrapped his hand firmly around hers. “I’ve got you.”

She inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away. Gently he nudged her to take a step. “It’s really no different out here than it was in there.”

“Except that you can fall off out here.” Jo’s laugh was shaky.

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Beckett reassured her.

“Sam, don’t get so close to the railing,” Jo called, craning her neck to peer anxiously after the girl, who was disappearing behind a rounded central pillar that stretched up to the glass-walled lantern room above them. More quietly, she said, “I don’t want to pass my fear on to her. But I don’t like when she gets so close to the edge.”

“It’s okay.” Beckett drew her slowly toward Sam. “I’m not going to let anything happen to her either. Why did you suggest we come here if you don’t like heights?”

Jo shook her head. “Because I’m crazy, I guess.”

Beckett laughed. “Not crazy. A little goofy, maybe.”

“Hey.” She hit his arm with her free hand.

“See, you forgot to be afraid for a moment there, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I see, very clever.” Jo rolled her eyes, but she was grinning.

They reached Sam, and Beckett drew Jo closer to him, wrapping his arm around her back, and tucking her carefully to his side.

She looked up at him. “Beckett.”

“So you don’t fall,” he reassured her.

She puffed out a soft breath but didn’t pull away from him.

Beckett gazed out over the turquoise water, a sense of contentment he had never experienced before washing over him.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid,” Beckett said quietly. “I’d look out over the water, and dream about what was out there. About all the places I would go that weren’t here.”

Funny how he didn’t want to be anywhere but here right now.

“I don’t ever want to leave the island,” Sam said. “It’s the most perfectest place in the world. Right, Mommy?”

“Right.” Jo’s answer was subdued, and she slid just far enough away that Beckett had to drop his arm from around her.

“Are you going to stay here forever, Mr. Beckett?”

Beckett hesitated, his heart squeezing painfully. “I—”

“Sammycakes,” Jo jumped in. “You remember that Mr. Beckett is only here to film his movie. And then he has to go back to his house in . . .”

“Nashville,” Beckett filled in.

“Right.” Was it only wishful thinking to hear wistfulness in her whisper?

Sam turned to him with a frown. “That’s on the mainland?”

“Well, yes. Kind of.” Beckett gripped the railing. “It’s in a different state. Pretty far away from Michigan.”

“But how will we see you when you go back?” Sam’s eyes welled, and Beckett hated that he was the cause. Wasn’t it just last night that he’d promised Mr. Fletcher that he wouldn’t hurt Jo or Sam?

He let go of the railing and squatted next to Sam. “There will still be cars and ferries, won’t there?”

Sam nodded, but her brow wrinkled as if she didn’t see what that had to do with anything.

“So I can take them to come here and visit,” he explained. “And someday you can fly me over in your airplane.”

Jo made a disapproving sound, but Sam smiled tentatively. “You’ll visit a lot, right?”

“All the time,” he promised. “So much that you’ll get sick of seeing me.”

“We should go,” Jo cut in, and Beckett looked up to find fiery eyes glaring down at him.

He straightened quickly. What had he done wrong? Was she angry that he’d upset Sam? Because he’d been trying to fix that, in case she hadn’t noticed.

“But Mommy,” Sam protested.

Jo pointed to the door. “I said it’s time to go.”

“Jo—” Beckett reached for her hand, but apparently she had miraculously gotten over her fear of heights. She marched across the platform to the door that led back inside the lighthouse.

Sam looked to Beckett.

He shrugged. “I guess it’s time to go.”

Jo led the charge down the stairs, moving so quickly that Beckett was surprised he didn’t see sparks flying out from under her feet.

Sam slipped her hand into Beckett’s, and they walked down the stairs side by side.

By the time they reached the bottom, she had disappeared.

He led Sam outside, letting out a relieved breath to find Jo’s bike still there. Only there was still no sign of Jo.

“There she is!” Sam pointed toward the shoreline, where Jo stood staring out over the lake.

Sam let go of Beckett’s hand to run toward her. “Mommy, you beat us!” she cried, as if it had been a race.

Jo didn’t turn around, but in the split second before Sam reached her, Beckett saw Jo lift a hand to swipe her cheek. His heart cracked. He didn’t know what had hurt her—but he had a sinking feeling he had something to do with it.

When Jo spun around to face her daughter, she was smiling broadly, though it wasn’t the kind of smile that reached her eyes. “I did beat you,” she said, stooping to hug Sam. “What’s my prize?”

“Hmm.” Sam tapped her lip. “A kiss?”

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Jo puckered her lips and let her daughter plant a wet kiss on her lips.

Beckett wondered momentarily if Jo would accept the same prize from him. But when she stood and looked at him, her smile turning brittle, he had his answer.

“Thanks for walking down with her,” she said stiffly.

He nodded, falling in step next to them as they headed for the bikes.

Jo put on her helmet as he helped Sam into the bike trailer. Then he moved to put on his helmet too.

“Is everything okay?” he asked in a low voice so that Sam wouldn’t overhear.

Jo nodded crisply and threw her leg over her bike. “Of course it’s okay.”

“It’s just . . . You seem a little . . . I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

Jo blew out a breath. “You didn’t. Well, you did.” She shook her head and stood staring out at the water again. “I don’t want you making promises to Sam that you can’t keep.” She kept her eyes on the lake.

“What promises?” He kicked up his kickstand but didn’t get on the bike.

“Don’t tell her you’re going to come back to visit.” Jo directed a glare at him. “She’ll think you mean it.”

Before Beckett could answer, she pushed her foot down on the pedals and sped off.

It took Beckett a few moments of scrambling to sling his leg over his own bike, and then he got off to a slow start with the weight of the trailer behind him.

But he pedaled hard, and within half a mile, he had caught up with Jo.

“I do mean it,” he called.

She didn’t look over at him, but the momentum of her pedals slowed, and Beckett slowed too.

“I do mean it,” he repeated. “I plan to come back to visit.”

“No you don't. You’ve always hated it here. You said so yourself. You left and didn’t come back one time in twelve years. And the only reason you’re here now is for your movie.”

“That’s all true,” he said calmly.

“Ha.” Jo sounded as if she’d just won some sort of victory.

“But I’m glad I came back. This place is growing on me every day.” Thanks in no small part to her—but he wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear that. “So I do plan to come back often.”

He waited for a reply, but there was none, so he decided to let her stew on his answer for a little bit.

“That’s easy to say now,” she said a few minutes later. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll still feel the same way after you leave. This isn’t some movie. You’ll be going back to your real life soon, and you won’t have any reason to come back here.”

“Actually, I will,” Beckett insisted. “There are things here that I don’t have in my real life. Things I would miss too much not to come back to.”

He desperately wanted Jo to ask what things , but she pressed her lips tightly together. There was no way any words were escaping that fortress.

Beckett thought about telling her anyway. But he had a feeling that if he did, all he would see was a streak of lightning as she turbo-pedaled back to town.

The cemetery loomed on the right side of the road, and Beckett found himself slowing. Jo pulled ahead of him but slowed after a few seconds, looking over her shoulder.

“Do you mind if we stop in here for a minute?” he called.

Jo turned to look at the cemetery, then back at him. “Sure.” She pulled off onto the narrow lane that led into the graveyard, and Beckett followed.

They parked their bikes just past the metal arch that adorned the entrance to the cemetery.

Beckett stared out over the gravestones, vaguely aware that Jo was helping Sam out of the bike trailer.

“Are we going to visit Grandma’s grave?” Sam asked as she and Jo came up next to Beckett.

“Sure, we can.” Jo’s answer was low, as if she sensed Beckett’s turmoil. “We’ll be over there.” She pointed to the left.

Beckett nodded.

“I’ll be . . .” He scanned the gravestones again. Could he really not remember where his own mother was buried? It had been twenty years. But still . . .

“Her grave is under the maple tree over there,” Jo said softly, pointing to a tree with brilliant red leaves.

Beckett didn’t ask how she knew. Just nodded and stood rooted to his spot as Jo and Sam moved off in the other direction.

He swallowed a few times, trying to work up the courage to move his feet.

Minutes ticked by, and his throat grew dry. His palms became clammy. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck.

And still he couldn’t budge.

Maybe this was enough, standing here. It wasn’t like his mother was still in the grave anyway—he had learned that from his pastor. Her soul was already with Jesus in heaven. The body that was left here would be raised in glory one day. But right now, it was just a pile of bones.

Beckett grabbed for his bike. Coming here had been a mistake. He’d wait for Jo and Sam to get done, and then they’d go back to town, and he’d go back to driving the long way around so he wouldn’t have to see the cemetery.

“Can I see your mom’s grave?” A tiny hand slipped into Beckett’s.

“Sam,” Jo’s voice held a soft warning. “Mr. Beckett might not want—”

“No. I do.” He nodded. “That’s exactly what I need. Come on.” He pulled Sam forward a few steps before he realized Jo wasn’t with them.

He looked over his shoulder. “Will you come too?”

Her expression softened. “Of course.”

Beckett scanned the names on the gravestones they passed. Some he recognized. Others he didn’t.

It was staggering to think that the deaths of all these people had probably affected their families as profoundly as his mother’s death had affected Beckett and his dad.

“There it is,” Jo said quietly, touching a hand to his arm as they reached a stone engraved simply with his mother’s name, birth and death dates, and the words, “Wife and mother.”

“That’s a pretty grave,” Sam said, stopping in front of it.

Beckett nodded, swallowing sharply, and Jo slid her hand down, her fingers lacing between his.

He glanced at her in surprise, and she offered a sympathetic smile. “I know what it’s like,” she said simply.

“I wish I had known then,” he said quietly.

Jo looked at him.

“That she was in heaven,” he said. “You tried to tell me, but . . .” He shook his head. How could he not have seen all those years ago that Jo knew what he was going through? That she wanted to help him through the pain and the grief?

“I’m glad you know now,” Jo said simply.

“Me too. Thank you for planting that seed.” He turned to look down into her eyes. He wanted her to know how deeply he meant this. “I know I didn’t appreciate it at the time. But as much as I tried to forget what you told me, it would come back at odd moments.”

“I—” Jo blinked a few times. “You’re welcome.”

Beckett turned back to the grave and bowed his head, closing his eyes to offer a prayer of thanksgiving that he would see his mother in heaven again one day.

Then they headed back for the bikes. When they were halfway across the graveyard, Jo slipped her hand silently out of his.

Beckett sighed. This woman was not going to make it easy to get closer to her.

They pedaled silently back to town and returned the bikes, chatting with Nate for a few minutes before stepping out into the lowering afternoon sunlight.

“Well, thanks—” Jo turned to him, her voice formal. “This was—”

“Look, Mommy, the carriage!” Sam pointed toward Harbor Way, where Taylor Everest was steering his horses toward the spot where they picked up tourists. “You promised Mr. Everest we would take a ride soon, and we haven’t.”

“Oh, well—” Jo stammered.

But Beckett swooped in before she could make an excuse. “We’ll go right now.”

“We should really get dinner,” Jo protested.

“Good idea.” Beckett winked at Sam. “A carriage ride and dinner, coming right up.”