Author: Robyn Carr

He leaned toward her. “Listen here, you’ve already done enough for me. For us.”

“But I haven’t done—”

His voice was lowered when he talked, as if this was just for her. “I’ve known that old boy in the kitchen for almost a year now. He’s a curmudgeonly old coot. He hasn’t had an easy life, he doesn’t trust people quickly. He’s been mostly alone and hardly anyone knows how big his heart is. I’m maybe the best friend he’s got and he makes me work real hard for a few words. But since you and your little girl have been around, Rawley’s a whole new man. Almost can’t shut him up. And he’s got a twinkle in his eye that I haven’t ever seen before. He’s been needing someone to take care of—he’s been needing family. And I wouldn’t be saying this but it’s pretty plain—you’re not just good for him, you’re good to him. That matters to me, Devon.”

“He’s a good man,” she said.

“He is that, hard as he might try to keep it a secret.”

She leaned toward him and in a hushed tone said, “I’m not his cousin.”

And Cooper whispered back, “I know.”

“He told you?”

Cooper shook his head. “I guessed, that’s all. It was awful sudden, you showing up, but as long as it works out...”

“I would never hurt Rawley.”

“That’s coming across loud and clear.”

“I can’t really talk about...”

“About why you cut off your pretty hair and won’t talk about where you’ve been? Look, hardly a one of us doesn’t have stuff to get over, so you don’t have to explain. I could make you blush with my past. In fact, let’s leave that alone. There might come a time you want to talk about whatever it is, but know this—it doesn’t really matter that much. What matters is that you find what you need, that Rawley is happy, that your daughter is okay.”

“That’s what’s important to me, too.”

“Then we’re bent on a single purpose. Now, what’s your pleasure? Coffee? Soda? Wine?”

She sniffed back some emotion. “Can I have a beer?”

“You got it,” he said, pulling a bottle out of the cooler. He popped the top and put it on the bar as she was struggling to open her wallet. He put a hand over hers. “Devon, I’m not taking your money. Don’t be ridiculous. The families of folks who work here eat and drink for free. Now find a place in the sun to relax—Rawley says you’ve been working day and night for a week.”

“I could just kiss you,” she whispered.

“I’ll take that,” he said with a handsome big grin. Then he leaned across the bar, presenting her with his cheek.

* * *

Devon sat on the deck with her beer. Down on the beach she saw Spencer throwing the football with Landon. So much for his shower. He was wearing the same jeans, but without his shirt or shoes. He had apparently been distracted by a little ball practice. He had amazing shoulders and arms, which she wished she hadn’t even noticed—but there was no denying it, he was a beautiful specimen. His boy, Austin, was fooling around on the paddleboard, very near the shore. There were a few people out on the water—a couple in a small skiff, rowing around the quiet bay. Two people were on paddleboards, taking them farther out into the bay.

Her eyes went back to Spencer and Landon. They threw long, powerful passes. This was the coach and his star player, and they were impressive. She could hear them shouting at each other and laughing. She just couldn’t believe she was here. Feeling for the first time as if she was actually living a normal life. Not just that, but in a setting millions of people would envy—the beauty of the rocky sea, the long peaceful beach. It felt as though right up to this very moment, this very second, she had worried and wondered what was coming tomorrow, that she’d been a little afraid each day that somehow the clock would be turned back and she’d find herself again behind that fence.

Sarah came out to sit beside her. Ham was by her side and Sarah sat down beside Devon. “What did you think of your duplex?”

“I was speechless,” she said. “You guys are my magic fairies. I don’t know what came over you.”

“I had a day off.” She shrugged. “I’m going to pay for it by sitting alert for the next two nights, but that’s okay. I’m almost done. I’ll be on paid vacation by the end of the summer.”

“How do you manage that?” Devon asked.

“Well, you give the Coast Guard ten years, accumulate a lot of leave, fall in love with Cooper and marry him.” At that precise moment he appeared at her side, handing her a glass of white wine. Sarah laughed. “He promises to serve me and pamper me for the rest of my life.”

Cooper disappeared again and Devon said, “I’d marry him for that.”

“Watch it, now, I saw him first.”

“And when is all this going to happen?” Devon asked.

“It’s beginning to happen right now. I’m moving in with Cooper. Spencer is vacating the RV and taking my rental house in town. Landon is taking over the RV as his bachelor pad, under the watchful eye of his diligent and suspicious sister—I even have a new pair of binoculars. And a week from Saturday we’re having a wedding, right here, on the beach. Will you come?”

“Oh, my gosh, seriously?”

She nodded. “It’s going to be very laid-back, just like my Cooper. By the way, I’m getting rid of a couch. Interested?”

“Sure,” she said, sitting straighter. “Are you selling it?”

“No,” Sarah said, smiling. “Hopefully I’m moving it down the street to your house where it will find a good home.”

Three days later Sarah’s couch appeared in her living room along with two side tables and some lamps. A couple of days later she noticed a moving truck pulled up in front of Sarah’s house—Spencer was moving in. He had a dinette set he didn’t need anymore moved into her kitchen. Then Sarah offered her two beds. “Not like you got them off craigslist,” she said. “They’re almost new and I’ll give you the mattress protector to go with them. And some linens I can’t use anymore.” Spencer gave her a dresser and chest that had been in his last guest room and, just like that, her little house was ready to move in to. Then Sarah and Spencer had a huge yard sale and Devon went, picking up a few extra items—kitchen things, a set of old dishes that looked fine to her, even a couple of things to hang on the wall.

She ordered a few towels, a couple of blankets, pillows and some flatware online.

When she embraced Rawley at the front door of her little house, she said, “We will see you almost every day.”

“Yes, you will. If you don’t come by Cooper’s, I’ll check on you here so don’t go thinkin’ you’re done with me. Me and Mercy, we bonded.”

* * *

Rawley went to the Farmers’ Market in Myrtle Creek one afternoon. He just roamed around, looking at the crafts and produce stands, taking his good old time, observing. He felt like a man in a foreign country, checking out the status of things. And then he saw what he was looking for—a produce stand run by a couple of farm girls with long single braids. They were selling strawberries, early pears, root vegetables such as carrots, onions, red potatoes and scallions. There was leaf lettuce, butter lettuce, beets, peppers, small, early hook squash, little zucchini and green beans. They had small cucumbers for pickling and some fine looking tomatoes. He gave a tomato a gentle squeeze—soft and meaty yet firm. “What fertilizer you use on these?” he asked one of the girls.

“We have livestock, so we make our own blend—all organic, all clean,” the smiling girl said.

“Wish I could get my hands on some of your fertilizer. I got me a couple tomato plants—they’re healthy and strong and still don’t produce like this. Where does all this come from?” he asked. “You grow it yourselves, right?”

“We have some property down the river. In two weeks we’ll have larger squash and in late summer the melons will start coming in. Plus apples and the tomatoes will keep coming as long as the weather holds.”

He had never paid much attention to these ladies before, but now he was looking at them in a whole new way. The three young women did the selling and behind them, in the back of their booth, looking as if they were there to do heavy lifting, were two large men in jeans and boots. They looked friendly, but they didn’t chat with any of the customers. They stood back, arms crossed over their chests, wearing half smiles, talking only to each other.

On their display stand they had big jars— old-fashioned pickle jars with hand-lettered labels: Veterans, UNICEF, Save The Children, Police and Firefighters Fund, St. Jude’s Hospital. Well, covered their bases, didn’t they? Rawley thought to himself. He tried to remember if these were the same charities they had been supporting the last time he stumbled on them. He took out a couple of dollars for the Veterans jar and asked, “Does any of the money you earn go to charity?”

“If there’s anything left after we pay the bills we donate,” the young woman said. “The Fellowship supports a number of worthy causes.”

“The Fellowship, yeah, that’s right. You have a produce stand on the road back by the river, don’t you?” he asked.

“Not open every day, sir. We don’t get a lot of traffic back there so we’re only open about four afternoons a week and always on the weekend in the summer.”

“Gimme a couple of big bags of these tomatoes,” Rawley said. “And a bag of them green beans. You ladies do a right fine job.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And you weave them things?” he asked, pointing to a display of shawls and throws.

She laughed happily. “Yes, sir. Charlotte does that—and she taught some of us how to knit and crochet. That occupies us on all those cold winter nights. Would you like to look at them?”

He wandered down to the end of the stand and picked through them. The prices on them were pretty high. “Wow, you’re awful proud of these. Seventy-five dollars?”

“They’re handmade, sir. And original designs.”

“I’ll have this one here. I have an elderly neighbor lady who would really take to it.”

“Perfect. I hope your neighbor loves it.”

They wrapped up his vegetables and throw. Rawley paid in cash and left. Instead of going back to Cooper’s to work, he went to the doctor’s office. Devon was sitting behind the counter at the desk and looked up, surprised to see him.

“What a surprise! I hope you’re not sick.”

“Never felt better,” he said. “I brought you a couple of things.” He put his parcels on the table. “I split up the beans and tomatoes, kept half for myself. Then there’s this,” he said, giving her the tissue-wrapped parcel with the throw.

She smiled at the beautiful vegetables, but when she saw the throw she frowned. “Rawley, what have you done?”

He gave a shrug and a fairly handsome smile. “Just checkin’ on things in Myrtle Creek. I thought you might like knowin’ it seems to be business as usual. Not that I expected to see anything amiss. But they’re still there, sellin’ their tomatoes and woven things, wearin’ their overalls and braids.” He shook his head. “Devon, we’ll be careful, but it’s gonna be all right, I think.” He gave her a gentle smile. “I think you got yourself a new home.”

She came around the counter, stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Rawley. I not only have a new home, I have a table and chairs. When can you come to dinner?”

“I reckon there’s time tomorrow night. Wednesday nights ain’t so busy at the beach.”