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L.
What the hell? Not even a Dear Panda or a Yours sincerely? The message it delivered was loud and clear. She wanted him to leave her alone. Which he was more than happy to do.
He slammed the cupboard door, trying not to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t gone back to the bar last night. By the time he’d reached his boat at the marina, his temper had cooled just enough that he’d started to worry about her again. He’d made up his mind to get her out of that bar, no matter what she said.
He splashed coffee into his mug, decent coffee because he’d made it. He had work to do, and he forced himself into the den, where he booted up his computer. After he’d left her last night, he’d gone with the local cops to locate the two scumbags who’d attacked her. He’d known the water wasn’t deep enough to drown them when he’d tossed them in, and sure enough, it hadn’t taken long to find them staggering back to the bar to get their bikes. No surprise either, there were warrants out on both of them, which made it easier to convince the police chief to keep Lucy’s name out of it.
He couldn’t concentrate on work, and he pushed himself back from the desk—old man Templeton’s desk, although he’d stopped thinking so much about that. He decided to go up to the gym and take out his frustration on Temple. If she hadn’t talked him into coming here, none of this would have happened.
But he set off for the lake instead. Be the best at what you’re good at and stay away from what you’re not. Right now, caring too much about the daughter of the president of the United States topped the list of everything he wasn’t good at.
THE ORGANIST WAS PLAYING A familiar hymn, although Bree couldn’t recall its name. She smiled at a woman she’d spoken with during last week’s coffee hour. Bree was growing to love Heart of Charity Missionary. Although she still sometimes felt like an outsider, the emotion-filled service gave her comfort. She wished Lucy had come along this morning, but after Lucy had shed her tattoos, Bree had cut her hair, trying to camouflage the areas where she’d chopped off her dreads, and now Lucy was too recognizable.
When Bree had stepped out of the honey house and seen Lucy standing there so pale and bruised, she’d thought Panda had beaten her. Lucy had quickly disabused her of that notion with a brief, disturbing account of what had happened at The Compass, but she hadn’t said much more, and Bree wasn’t pressing her.
Toby turned around in the pew, and she saw why he hadn’t given her his normal flack about going to church. “You came!” he said in a loud whisper as Mike settled next to him.
“Sure I did.” Even though temperatures were already in the low eighties, he wore a light tan sports coat, pale blue dress shirt, and a blue-and-brown-striped necktie. She wasn’t exactly sure when he’d discarded his big college ring and ostentatious gold bracelet. She’d never mentioned either one, no matter how much she’d wanted to, but they were gone. He also smelled great. Like good shaving cream.
He nodded politely at Bree, whatever amorous feelings he’d once harbored for her clearly gone. She studied him as he looked away, something she’d been doing a lot of over the past two weeks. She couldn’t feel good about the way she was using him. By acting friendly and pretending she’d forgotten about the past just so he’d be there for her if she needed him, she was the worst kind of hypocrite.
Since the night he’d appeared at Dogs ’N’ Malts, he’d become a regular visitor to the cottage. Sharing a few meals with him hadn’t been as difficult as she’d thought. He spent most of the time talking to Toby. He treated her politely, but that was all. No more apologies, no more references to the past. He was a man who’d said his piece and didn’t repeat himself. She’d even gone out on the boat with him and Toby after Lucy had insisted on watching the farm stand.
To her surprise, it had been the best day of her summer. The three of them had dived into the lake together. Mike was an excellent swimmer, and Toby loved horsing around with him. She’d watched the flex of Mike’s shoulders as he’d tossed Toby in the water and felt the most peculiar stirring, like an embryonic chick who’d grown just big enough to make the first small crack in its shell. Later that day, while the boat bobbed at anchor and they munched on junk food, she’d had to fight back tears just because Toby had reminded her to put on more sunscreen.
Deacon Miller rose to welcome the congregation. She and Toby no longer warranted a special introduction, but Mike was a newcomer. “We are so blessed to have you with us today, Mike,” Deacon Miller said. “We all remember how you helped us buy our new organ.”
The congregation broke out in a lusty chorus of amens.
“It was the least I could do after all those potlucks,” Mike said, displaying none of the discomfort she’d felt during her first visit. “Best church food on the island.”
Agreeing nods all around. Wasn’t there anybody who didn’t like him?
Pastor Sanders rose for the opening prayer. Her products had only been in his gift shop for two weeks, but her lotions and honey were selling well enough that he’d asked for more—only a small order because Labor Day was near, but an order nonetheless.
As bad luck would have it, his sermon that morning centered on forgiveness, a subject that reminded her of Mike.
“I’m a religious man,” he’d said. “I believe in sin, and I believe in repentance. I’ve made amends as best as I know how, but it hasn’t changed anything.”
“And it won’t,” she’d told him.
Sitting here in this sacred place, she no longer felt so righteous.
When the service was over, Toby attached himself to Mike, and Mike worked the crowd, just as he’d done at the Episcopal church. He knew everyone, and everyone knew him. He introduced her to members she’d yet to meet, including one of the real estate agents who worked for him and several former clients.
It was finally time to leave, and they stepped out into the blazing late morning sun. “Is it okay if I take Toby to see my new dog?” Mike said, once again forgetting to ask her these kinds of things when Toby wasn’t listening.
Toby’s eyes immediately lit up. The abandoned puppy had been a frequent topic of conversation between them. Toby had tried to dissuade Mike from turning it over to a rescue group on the mainland. In the end, Toby had won. “You’ve got to come, too, Bree,” he declared before she said he could go. “Can she, Mike?”
She tugged on one of her hoop earrings, not looking at Mike. “I should … get back and relieve Lucy.”
Toby grew mulish. “Lucy already told you she’d stay all morning.”
Once again, she’d set herself up as the bad guy. She was sick of it. “You’re right. I’d love to see the dog.”
Toby grinned and raced down the sidewalk. “I’m riding with Mike.”
Mike gazed at her. He’d slipped on his sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes. “You don’t have to go with us.”
