Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 34

The cold air tore through Jo’s lungs, and tears obscured her vision and froze her cheeks, and she didn’t know where she was going, but she couldn’t stop. Not until she got far, far away from Beckett and the awful truth she had just thrown at him.

No one else knew that part of her story.

Not Lisa. Not Angelica. Not even Dad.

And now she’d told the one person it hurt the most to have know.

But it had been her only choice. The only way to make him see that everything he thought he felt for her was based on a lie.

She wanted desperately to be the woman he thought she was.

But she wasn’t.

And he deserved to know that.

“Jo!” His voice was at her side and then his arm was around her elbow, and he was pulling her to a stop. “Jo.” He drew her into his arms, wrapping them firmly around her back. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” She pushed at his chest to break free of his grasp. “I knew, Beckett.”

He let go, and her heart shattered like a thousand frozen teardrops.

“Knew he was married?” he asked quietly, his face pale in the dark.

She nodded. “Or at least I suspected.” She sniffled and swallowed back a fresh wave of tears. She didn’t deserve Beckett’s sympathy.

He chuffed out a breath and moved to sit on a bench, and she realized dully that they were in front of Prince of Peace.

“Jo.” Beckett’s voice was much too kind, and Jo jumped in to stop him from saying anything nice.

“It happened the summer I was twenty-two.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I met him at one of the Sundays on the Square,” she continued. “He was older—in his early thirties, I think.” How stupid was it that she didn’t even know? “Jay.” She forced herself to say his name.

Beckett nodded, his lips pressed tight and thin.

Oh, what must he think of her now?

Well, that was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? To make him see that he couldn’t possibly love her?

“He lived on the mainland, but he was here managing a big renovation at the Palace for the summer. He hooked me harder than I’ve ever hooked any fish in my life.”

Beckett made a sound that could have been a laugh—or disgust.

“I didn’t know he was married at first,” she went on. “But after a while, there were things that . . .” She blew out a quavering breath. “I suspected,” she whispered. “But I ignored the signs because I was convinced that even if he was married, it was me he really loved.” She had been so gullible. “He told me he loved me, and I said I loved him, and pretty soon he was pressuring me to . . .” She swallowed, not sure she could spell it out.

Beckett’s head jerked, his jaw hard, expression unyielding.

Jo sniffed back her tears. After this, he would want nothing to do with her.

“I tried to resist at first, but . . .”

Beckett’s inhale pierced the dark, and he turned to her sharply. “Did he assault you?”

Jo shook her head, the tears she’d been fighting so hard to hold back breaking free and dropping one after another onto her cheeks. “It was consensual,” she whispered. “I knew I shouldn’t. I knew it was wrong. But I told myself I’d repent later. And the more we . . .” She swiped angrily at her cheeks. This was all her own doing. “The more I convinced myself that we were in love.”

She swallowed a few times, and she could see Beckett do the same, the cords in his neck rippling.

Her legs felt shaky, and she collapsed onto the far end of the bench.

Beckett didn’t make any attempt to move closer, and she knew she had lost him for good.

But something compelled her to finish the story.

“He left in August,” she continued quietly. “He promised we’d talk all the time and he’d come back to see me as soon as he could.” She dropped her head. “At first, he answered the phone when I called, but he always seemed annoyed, and he never had time to talk. And then he stopped answering. Right around the time I realized that I was . . . late. I figured he needed to know, so I got in my car and drove onto the ferry and went to his house.”

She shuddered at the memory. “This little blonde girl opened the door. She had—” Jo gulped. “She had Jay’s eyes. A pretty but tired looking woman with another child on her hip came up behind the girl, and I knew right then. I couldn’t pretend anymore that my suspicions had been wrong. I couldn’t pretend that Jay was who he said he was. The woman asked if she could help me, and I was so— so—” She couldn't find a word strong enough. “So selfish that I asked if Jay was home. She kind of eyed me up and down and then said he was in the backyard and sent her daughter to go get him. She stood there making small talk with me about the weather or something—I can’t remember—and all I could think was that she was so nice .” She shook her head on a disgusted laugh. “And then Jay was there, and the moment he looked at me, I knew he didn’t love me. He had never loved me. I was just an interesting little amusement to pass the time while he was on the island.”

“Did you tell him?” Beckett’s voice was strained.

Jo nodded, though he wasn’t looking her way. “He told his—” She choked on the word. “His wife that we had to talk about something for work, and she went inside, and I told him. And then I begged him—” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “I begged him to leave his wife—that woman I had just been thinking was so nice—for me.” Queasiness rolled through her. How could she have been that person? “He reached into his pocket and pulled out a $100 bill and said if I didn’t say anything to his wife, he’d send more. I have never felt so . . . cheap.” A rough sob hiccupped out, and she doubled over.

Something touched her shoulder, and then Beckett was pulling her into his arms and crushing her to his chest.

She fought to pull away, but he held on firmly.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his lips pressing the top of her head. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head, but she couldn’t stop the seven years’ worth of tears that felt like they’d been stored somewhere deep in her chest.

Beckett held her close, his hands sliding up and down her back, his cheek pressed against her hair.

Finally, her crying slowed enough that she could shudder out, “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” Beckett loosened his grip on her and eased her back, lifting his hands to her cheeks.

“So—” Jo sighed, touching her fingers gingerly to her puffy-feeling eyes. “That’s the end of the story.”

Beckett shook his head. “No it isn’t.” He took both of her hands in his. “The end of the story is that you have a beautiful daughter whom you are doing an excellent job of raising.”

Tears stung Jo’s eyelids again. “I love her so much,” she said around a painful swallow, “And I wouldn’t give her up for anything. But sometimes . . .” She clamped her lips together. This she couldn’t say.

“Sometimes,” Beckett prompted gently.

Jo exhaled. He already knew the worst of her—why not tell him the rest. “Sometimes I feel like she’s my scarlet letter.” The words sounded even more awful out loud than they had the thousands of times she’d said them in her head. “I mean, she’s a blessing, the biggest blessing I’ve ever known. But when other people see her—when they see me —they know my sin. It’s always there .”

Beckett nodded, as if considering her words, then said slowly, “Isn’t there a verse that says though our sins are scarlet, he will make them as white as snow?”

“Yes, but—” Jo started.

Beckett cut her off. “I’m pretty sure there are no buts when it comes to Jesus’ forgiveness.” He squeezed her hands. “So maybe Sam isn’t your scarlet letter. Maybe she’s your white as snow—your Snow White.” He laughed softly. “She’d like that.”

Jo nodded, sniffling.

“She’s not a testament to your failure but to God’s faithfulness and forgiveness,” Beckett continued. “Your reminder that God can take even our worst mistakes and work them for our good. Like we talked about at Bible study.”

“Maybe,” Jo murmured. She wanted to believe that, she really did, but it felt like too much to ask.

She wished suddenly that she hadn’t told him. Even if he was right, this would always color the way he thought of her now. They could never go back to him not knowing.

She jumped to her feet. “I should go.”

But Beckett was right there, catching her shoulders. “This doesn’t change how I feel. If anything, it only makes me feel closer to you. Makes me want even more to—”

“Seeing you kiss Sadie today felt just like seeing Jay’s wife.” Jo felt petty, even saying the words. Obviously it wasn’t the same thing at all. But the heat of betrayal that had seared through her chest was the same. “I know it’s your job, and I know it didn’t mean anything, but I don’t think I can handle—”

“Then I’ll do something else,” Beckett said as if it were that easy. “I’ll find a different job.”

“I don’t want you to find a different job. You said yourself, this is more than a job. It’s a calling from God.”

“God isn’t calling me to do something that would hurt the woman I love.” Beckett smoothed his hands over her cheeks, wiping away the trails of her tears.

“Stop saying you love me.” She couldn’t risk believing that, no matter how much she wanted to.

“I can’t. I’m going to keep saying it until you believe me. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove it to you. I could spray paint it on the gazebo. Or shout it from the top of the lighthouse. Or—”

“Beckett, stop.” Jo slid away from him. He needed to stop pretending this would work.

“No, you stop,” he countered, his voice rising a fraction. “Stop coming up with excuses for why we can’t be together. You know not a single one of them holds up.” His voice gentled. “I know you’re scared. But you can trust me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered. “It’s too hard.”

Beckett’s shoulders dropped. “Then . . . what do you want to do?” he asked quietly.

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Go home.”

Beckett’s exhale was ragged, but he stood, and Jo got up too. The walk was agonizingly slow and silent. When they reached her door, she tried to make a quick escape inside, but Beckett caught her hand.

“I want you to know that I may be leaving, but I will be back. And I will be praying for you. And for us.”

Jo shook her head. Praying wasn’t going to do him any good in this case. “I’m not going to change my mind, Beckett. I promise.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in promises.” His voice was hoarse.

“This one I do.” She opened the door and darted inside before the sob building in her chest could escape.