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Six years. She did the math. That’s when he’d stopped coming to Deep Haven.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t your fault, though.”
He let out a wry laugh. “I felt differently. So did her family. She was on the phone with her mom when she wrecked. She was in a coma for a few days. Man, I paced those hallways, praying.” He shook his head.
I realized I couldn’t trust God.
Beth fumbled for some brilliant words of support. Anything that might possibly dull the sting.
“But you started going to church again?”
“Yeah. I knew there wasn’t any future in the path I was on in my relationships, but I guess you’d say my faith is still a little like Tally’s. I’m skittish. Prone to running, bucking, fleeing.” His half-hearted smile told her there was more truth than jest in his words.
“She’s coming around. Maybe there’s hope for you.”
“I should get going.” He stood and rubbed his bicep with his opposite hand. “All this deep talk is gonna give me hives.”
She tried to smile. “I have Benadryl in my first aid kit.” She pointed to the oversized white tackle box on her bowed shelf. A red cross had been added to the top and sides, and it looked like it might be a two-person carry.
“I bet. Thanks.” He laughed, something genuine and full that broke the weight in the air. “Looks like you have the fix for all that ails.”
After he left, she listened as Grayson’s apartment door closed, then buried her face in her hands.
eight
The last thinghe needed was to be entangled in the town’s social schedule.
Apparently, no one in Deep Haven had received that memo.
“Grayson, dude! We heard you were in town!”
Grayson tried to place the face of his new best friend at Grandpa’s deck party, the one who’d handed him a plate of barbecued ribs and slaw, but…
Too many people.
Everything in Grayson told him he should have hidden out at camp. Hung out with Tally and given some of the camp horses a bit of attention.
He should have listened.
He still couldn’t believe how he’d babbled on and on to Beth. About his parents. About Harper.
He hadn’t told anyone about Harper. Beth was like truth serum personified.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Another new face gave him a nod when he walked by.
If last Sunday’s potluck had taught him anything, it was to expect a Friday-night crowd and to fight to lie low. That’s apparently how things rolled in Deep Haven.
But…
Laughter and conversation buzzed across his grandparents’ back deck, and the smell of fresh-mowed lawn mingled with smoky barbecue.
This time, it was a full-on party.
He actually recognized most of the faces gathered around—people sitting in the white plastic chairs or standing in the shade. He shook hands as he made his way through the crowd. Vivien Calhoun—now Buckam—had introduced her husband, Boone, and explained he headed up the Crisis Response Team.
Add in Dylan, Marie, Eli, Doug, and Beth, and the crowd had spilled off the deck and onto the grass where Noah and his wife, Anne, sat with two teenage boys. Lena stood nearby nursing an ice tea, and Beth’s friend Courtney sat with Sammy Johnson and Robin. Even his old high-school coach, Caleb Knight, had stopped in with his wife, Issy.
He remembered Issy. She was the former coach’s daughter. Had been in the car with him when they’d had a terrible accident that had ended coach’s career.
