Second Chance Summer Read online

  The sharing of confidences was over for today—but her willingness to trust him with her secrets had opened doors he intended to walk through in the tomorrows to come.

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.” He released her hand and rose.

  She stood, too. “We never did talk about your stuff. I was supposed to help you sort through your thoughts.”

  “You did. A lot of Lisa’s insights were relevant to your situation, and that helped me see how they might apply to mine.”

  Skepticism narrowed her eyes. “Are you being honest?”

  “Always.” Fletch took her arm and urged her across the bridge. “So about our missed lunch...we need to reschedule.”

  “I’ve got a class at the hotel tomorrow morning, and I promised to help out at the Painted Pelican again in the afternoon. We’re both on Francis House duty tomorrow night.”

  He expelled a breath. “That knocks tomorrow out. On Friday, I have to take Gram to Brunswick for a doctor’s appointment, plus a physical-therapy evaluation. She also roped me into hauling some furniture to Francis House on Friday night.”

  Rachel descended the steps and gestured to the right, where her car was parked two doors down in front of a contemporary-style house. “Seems like fate is conspiring against us.”

  “Sometimes you have to take fate into your own hands.” He followed her to the Focus.

  “Easier said than done, given our commitments.” She pulled her keys out of the pocket of her shorts and unlocked the car.

  Fletch held her door, then circled around and slid into the passenger seat. “How does Saturday look?”

  “So far, so good.”

  “Why don’t we plan on dinner that night? We can talk specifics while we paint tomorrow.”

  As she swung out of her parking place and drove down the short street to the main road, her brow crinkled.

  “What’s with the frown?” Might as well address head-on the unsettled vibes he was picking up.

  She kept her attention on the road as a few beats passed. “I still have issues to work through.”

  “So do I. One of them is you.”

  She flashed him a quick look but didn’t respond.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, there is some serious electricity sparking between us.”

  Rachel flexed her hands on the wheel but didn’t turn toward him. “I noticed.”

  “We need to get a handle on that. And the only way to do that is spend time together despite the loose ends in other parts of our life.”

  “I agree. That’s why I was looking forward to our afternoon at the beach. But that seemed more casual somehow than a dinner date.”

  Hmm. In spite of all the personal information they’d shared, she wasn’t yet ready to embrace the notion of a more serious, nighttime date.

  Fine. He could deal with that...even if their time on the island was ticking by far too fast.

  “We can switch it to Saturday afternoon if that makes you more comfortable. Same setup as today.”

  Rachel pulled into Fins and stopped beside his SUV. “Thanks for being so understanding.”

  He hitched up one side of his mouth. “You forgot ‘patient.’”

  “That, too.”

  “A SEAL trademark. Missions can depend on it.”

  Rachel leaned over to adjust the air conditioner, and another faint whiff of a familiar scent wafted his way.

  “Is that jasmine?”

  She fiddled with the dials as her cheeks pinkened. “Yes.” Straightening up, she hesitated, then dug into the pocket of her blouse and extracted some limp leaves with a few curled-up brown globs attached that may, at one time, have been flowers. “It’s from the night we talked on the porch at Francis House. I’ve been carrying a piece around with me ever since. I love the smell.”

  That might be true.

  But her rosy cheeks told him her reason for carrying it around was a lot more personal than a fondness for jasmine’s perfumelike fragrance.

  And as Fletch watched her drive off a few moments later, he suddenly felt far lighter of heart than he had mere hours ago at this very restaurant.

  Because Rachel was ready for romance.

  She just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I wasn’t sure why I kept all this stuff when I moved from Cincinnati, but now I see God had another use in mind for it.” Eleanor dug deeper into the box in her third-bedroom-turned-attic and pulled out a lamp with a delft-patterned ceramic base. “Won’t this look lovely in the living room at Francis House? All it needs is a shade.”

  Rachel gave it a once-over as she continued to sort through a carton of kitchen supplies at the other end of the room. “I saw one in the closet that might work.”

  “That’s right. I did stash a few extras on the upper shelf.” Eleanor set the lamp beside a brass headboard and wicker nightstand also destined for the renovated house and crossed to the closet. “By the way, did you have a nice afternoon with Fletch?”

  Rachel gaped at her aunt’s back.

  How in the world...?

  As if reading her mind, Aunt El swiveled toward her, lampshade in hand. “I saw you and Fletch pass by while I was waiting to turn onto Beachview on my way home from the shop. You seemed to be having a very intense discussion.”

  Doing her best to ignore the twinkle in Eleanor’s eyes, Rachel kept her voice neutral. “We kind of ran into each other. It wasn’t anything planned.”

  “How nice.” Eleanor beamed at her. “Impromptu dates are often the best kind.”

  “It wasn’t a date.”

  “It could be the next time, if you gave the man a little encouragement.” Eleanor added the shade to her cache on the floor and planted her hands on her hips. “You’re a very attractive young woman with a lot to offer, and Fletch is smart enough to recognize that.”

  “I told you, I’m not...”

  “Stop.” Aunt El held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear that I-didn’t-come-to-Jekyll-Island-for-romance speech again. I believe you. But sometimes love comes when we least expect it. You should be grateful Fletch is interested—and available.”

  The sudden hint of regret in her aunt’s tone caught Rachel’s attention. Did it have anything to do with that remark she’d made three weeks ago, about wishing she’d had the chance to marry and create a family?

  Retrieving the extra toaster from the box in front of her, Rachel considered her strategy. Aunt El had retreated when she’d asked questions the last time this subject had come up—but might she be more receptive to discussing it today?

  Maybe...if she eased into it by talking about her own situation.

  She added the toaster to the pile of kitchen gadgets she’d assembled, then sat back on her heels. “I still love Mark, Aunt El. It’s hard to let go.”

  For once, the other woman’s usually sunny demeanor was melancholy. “I know.”

  Silence fell, and from the spot he’d claimed against the wall to watch the proceedings, Bandit lifted his head from his paws and looked back and forth between the two women as if to say, “What’s up?”

  Good question.

  Based on Eleanor’s expression, however, Rachel wasn’t at all certain she was going to satisfy their curiosity.

  She held her breath—and didn’t let it out until the indecision faded from her aunt’s eyes and she stood. “Follow me.”

  Together, Rachel and Bandit rose.

  With the golden retriever close on her heels, Eleanor led the way to her bedroom and gestured toward the bed. “Have a seat.”

  As Rachel complied, Aunt El moved to her dresser, opened the top drawer and pulled out a white box with yellowed edges. When she sat on the bed, Bandit edged closer and settled in at her feet, as if sensing she might need c
omforting.

  Eleanor took off the lid, a visible tremor quivering her hands.

  A shock wave rippled through Rachel.

  Aunt El was the most rock-solid woman she’d ever met. Nothing—and no one—ever flustered her. Yet whatever was in that old box still had the power to rattle her.

  For a moment, Eleanor hesitated. Then, emitting a tiny puff of air, she pulled out a laminated black-and-white head shot from a newspaper and handed it over.

  Rachel angled the photo toward the light coming in from the window behind her and studied the handsome man in the picture. He looked to be in his early forties, with dark hair and clear, direct eyes. Based on the cut of his lapels, the width of his tie and his hairstyle, the photo had to be close to fifty years old.

  “That’s Robert.” Warmth and tenderness underscored the older woman’s poignant tone. “The man I loved.”

  What?

  The woman everyone in the family had pegged as a stereotypical spinster, who had either sidestepped romance and remained single by choice or had never met the right man, had once been head-over-heels in love?

  Yet she’d never married.

  Why?

  As she pondered that question, Eleanor reached back into the box and withdrew a few more items, carefully setting each one on the bed between them. A matchbook from a restaurant named Pierre’s. A few sheets of notepaper, tied with ribbon. Three birthday cards. A dried-up rose preserved in a Ziploc bag. A simple gold necklace with a sparkling blue stone on the end that looked like a sapphire.

  “I was twenty-eight when I met Robert.” Eleanor touched the faded ribbon on the notepaper. “He was forty. I’d never believed in love at first sight, but the day he joined my firm and the boss introduced us, I sensed he was different from any man I’d ever met. As I got to know him, that impression was confirmed. He was smart and kind and witty, and that smile of his...oh, my. He could dazzle you with that smile.”

  As Aunt El’s own lips curved up in remembrance, Rachel examined the photo again. He did have a nice smile. And based on her aunt’s sentimental collection of gifts and correspondence, he must have had feelings for her.

  So what had gone wrong?

  “Was the age difference a problem?”

  At her tentative question, Eleanor sighed. “No, the problem was far more serious than that.” She picked up the dead flower and cradled it in her hands. “Robert was married.”

  Rachel’s jaw dropped. “You were involved with a married man?”

  As the shocked, accusatory words reverberated in the small room, heat flooded her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded.”

  The older woman patted her knee. “No need to apologize. Your reaction shows your mother and father did a fine job raising you. Getting involved with a married man is, indeed, scandalous. That’s why our relationship never became more than a friendship. To his credit, in the three years I knew Robert, he never once mentioned the word love.”

  Rachel frowned and gazed again at her aunt’s meager treasure trove. It wasn’t much to show for a three-year friendship, let alone a romance. “Then how did you know he had those kinds of feelings for you?”

  “Ah, my dear.” Eleanor’s wistful expression tugged at her heart. “When someone cares about you in that way, you can see it in his eyes.”

  Rachel couldn’t argue with that. It had been true between her and Mark...and she was picking up similar vibes from Fletch, despite their brief acquaintance. The electricity between them was potent. Surely the latter had more to do with hormones than hearts, though.

  Didn’t it?

  But that was a question for another day.

  Maybe.

  Rachel refocused on her aunt. “So how did you two become friends?”

  Eleanor set the rose back on the bed and picked up the matchbook. “It all began when Robert invited the women in my group to lunch to thank us for putting in extra hours on a priority project. As it turned out, we had heavy snow that day, and Robert and I were the only ones in the group who showed up for work. The two of us ended up going anyway, and things just clicked. After that, we often had lunch together. It was all very public and above-board. Robert was a man of honor and integrity.”

  The passage of years hadn’t dimmed the light of love shining in Aunt El’s eyes.

  How tragic that the man who’d stolen her heart had already been committed to another.

  “Did he ever talk about getting a divorce?” Rachel had a feeling she already knew the answer.

  “No. He believed in his marriage vows. But the ‘in sickness and in health’ part was tested to the limits. His wife was an invalid. She had kidney disease, and many days she never even got out of bed. It wasn’t much of a life for Robert, but he was clear from the beginning we could never be more than friends. Hence the yellow rose versus red.” She touched the plastic bag. “Of course, his integrity only made me love him more. But as with most situations like this, things didn’t end well.”

  “What happened?” Rachel leaned forward.

  Bandit rested his chin on Aunt El’s knee, and she gave him a gentle pat.

  “Robert encouraged me to find someone who was free to marry. He didn’t want me to end up alone. The trouble was, he’d spoiled me for everyone else. I tried dating other people—but there was no one like him...then, or in all the years since.”

  Eleanor picked up the necklace and weighed it in her hand. “He gave me this on my thirtieth birthday, along with the rose, and told me he thought we should stop having lunch. He said our friendship wasn’t fair to me. The truth of it was, though, I lived for those lunches. It was the brightest spot in my week—and I suspect in his. So it didn’t take much to convince him we should continue.” Gently, Eleanor laid the necklace back on the bed. “And much as it shames me to admit this, I hoped if I hung in there, he might be mine after his wife died. That’s awful, isn’t it?”

  Was it?

  With all her own conflicted feelings surfacing in the past couple of weeks, who was she to say which feelings were right and which were wrong?

  “I don’t know, Aunt El. It wasn’t as if you were hoping she would die.”

  “Close enough, I suppose.” Eleanor shifted the blue stone in her fingers, watching it sparkle. “I always felt guilty about that. But in the end it didn’t matter. A few weeks after my birthday lunch, Robert died at his desk of a massive heart attack.”

  As a second wave of shock rolled through Rachel and tears pricked her eyes, she took her aunt’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you, my dear.” Aunt El let out a slow breath. “You know, I’ve wondered through the years if perhaps that was God’s way of punishing me for morbidly waiting in the wings for someone to die—and for wanting a man I couldn’t have.”

  “No.” Rachel shook her head. “I had similar thoughts after I lost my baby, but that’s wrong. God doesn’t work that way.”

  “I know that up here.” Eleanor tapped her temple. “But the mind and the heart don’t always operate on the same wavelength.” She picked up the ribbon-bound sheets of paper. “Robert left a letter for me with his lawyer—along with a key to a safe deposit box that contained a sizeable amount of money. They had no children, and his wife was well provided for, so he wanted to leave me some tangible evidence of his feelings. I invested wisely, and his bequest bought me this home.”

  “What happened to his wife?”

  “I saw her death notice in the paper twelve years later.”

  So even if Robert had lived, Aunt El would have had to wait a long time for the man she loved.

  Eleanor touched her arm. “I know what you’re thinking, but good things in life are worth waiting—and sacrificing—for. However, I didn’t tell you this story to make you sad. I told it to you because I want you to know I would have marr
ied after Robert died if I’d found the right man. When two people are in love they want the best for each other. And what could be better than spending your life with someone you love, raising a family together and growing old with your grandchildren all around you? If a man like Fletch had come into my life years ago, I might very well have married. He’s the real deal. True hero material—both on and off the battlefield.”

  The focus had swung back to her and Fletch, just as Rachel had expected.

  “Is that why you and Louise finagled to get us both here at the same time?”

  Eleanor sent her a get-real look and began to stow her treasures back in the yellowed box. “Are you suggesting Louise broke her wrist on purpose to entice Fletch to come here so the two of you could meet?”

  Put into words, it sounded silly.

  “No, of course not.”

  “The timing turned out to be providential, that’s all.” Eleanor settled the lid on the box and stood, cradling it in her hands. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. You may think you’re not ready for romance, but opportunities to meet outstanding men don’t come along every day. Most people are lucky if it happens once in a lifetime.” She stroked a hand over the box, then crossed the room, deposited it in her dresser and closed the drawer. “I’m just saying you should think long and hard before you pass up this chance. Is there any harm in getting to know him better?”

  Two weeks ago, Rachel would have said yes—because Jack Fletcher was the kind of guy who could upend your world. Push you out of your comfort zone. Make you wish for things you didn’t think you deserved.

  Now, after the confidences they’d shared, after their conversation today, she was beginning to think his unexpected appearance in her life was more destiny than disaster.

  “I can see you’re thinking about it. You keep doing that...but don’t dither too long, like your customer at the shop. Mrs. Gardner got her artwork before someone else grabbed it—but if you don’t stake a claim, some other woman is going to come along and snatch Fletch right out from under your nose.” Aunt El brushed off her hands and started toward the door. “Now, let’s get back to the attic room and finish up. There’s an old Bette Davis movie on cable tonight I want to catch.”