Maybe it was a writer thing.
She focused on why she was here, bringing Ginny to mind and smiling. Ginny had been happy to see her. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened either.
Shaking the thoughts away, she shoved off the door and made her way to the living room to get her luggage. Her internal clock was declaring bedtime. She hadn’t even really had the chance to settle in, but there would be time for that. Time was something she had in plenty.
Taking her cell phone out of her pocket, she checked the screen. No messages. Same as the last hundred times she’d looked. A pang of disappointment hit her right in the stomach. She didn’t know why she expected her parents to call. And it was after nine. Too late for her to try them. They’d be in bed by now.
She fished her pajamas and toothbrush out of her suitcase and came across the photo of her and Hope that she’d hastily shoved there before getting on the road. She sat back on her heels and stared at the two of them, her chest growing tight.
Ten years and it still seemed like yesterday that they’d buried her sister. Faith hadn’t felt whole since. In fact, the hole in her chest seemed to grow with each passing year. One day it would consume her until nothing remained but a black void.
“We finally made it to the beach,” she whispered, tears blurring her eyes.
She hadn’t cried in years, and now twice in one day she’d had to bite them back. She sighed and rose to her feet, setting the picture on the small fireplace mantel next to a conch shell. Hope would’ve loved it here.
Faith turned, doing a quick survey of her new place. The sea-foam-green walls and white wicker furniture echoed the simple fashion of every beach house—at least the ones in movies. For her, it seemed the perfect escape. She had no expectations, but was satisfied with the amount of room offered. Yet it wasn’t her home any more than her parents’ house had been. She got the strange sensation she didn’t belong anywhere.
In a few months, she’d go apartment hunting. Once she knew the job was secure and Wilmington was where she’d stay, anyway. No sense in rushing things. She’d built up a lot in savings from not paying rent. Even though the Covingtons compensated her well, she couldn’t afford a beachfront location, but perhaps something within walking distance so she could stare at the ocean. There was something almost . . . healing about it.
Pulling her mind out of the pity party, she slipped into her pajamas and brushed her teeth. Before turning in, she walked to the bedroom window and looked outside. She wondered if she’d ever get used to the sight. Her imagination didn’t do the ocean justice. A full moon illuminated the black ripples, the vastness of water stretching on forever.
Alec wasn’t standing in the sand any longer, but she could all but feel him still in front of her. There was a quiet, humming presence about him that his novels’ back-cover photos didn’t portray. His thick, longish black hair curled just above his ears, and though she couldn’t see them on the beach earlier, she knew his eyes were bluish gray. The square jaw and a shadow of a beard barely growing in gave him a hint of danger. His wide shoulders and taut muscles were a thing of beauty, if not a little intimidating. He was taller than she expected, too—at five foot five, she’d had to crane her neck to look at him. And handsome, especially when he smiled at his own self-deprecating humor.
Turning from the window, she climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling. Her first trip to the beach, something she’d always dreamed about but never accomplished before now, and Alec Winston left an imprint tied within her memory.
Faith hadn’t yet decided if that was a bad thing.
chapter
three
“We’re not leaving for a couple weeks.”
Faith watched Ginny closely, looking for any signs the sixteen-year-old was upset with what Mia had just told her. She didn’t find any. Ginny continued to color her picture of flowers, concentrating on what was in front of her.
Mia exchanged a look with Faith from across the kitchen table, her eyes concerned.
Faith gently stilled Ginny’s hand with her own. “How do you feel about Cole and Mia going on a little trip?”
Instead of answering, Ginny asked a question of her own. “What’s a honeymoon?”
Mia smiled and ran her fingers through her short black hair before answering. “When two people get married, they take a vacation together afterward, so they can get closer. That’s called a honeymoon.”
Ginny mulled that over and tapped her chin with a finger. “But you’re already married.”
“Yes,” Mia hedged. “There was a lot going on after the wedding six months ago, though. We had just moved here, remember? Things are settled down now, so we’d like to take that trip.”
“I can’t come?” The question was asked matter-of-factly and without sadness, apparently a distracted thought, because she’d already gone back to coloring.
“Not this time, pretty girl. But I won’t go if you’re scared or worried. Talk to me.”
Faith rested her chin in her palm. Mia used that phrase a lot with Ginny. Talk to me. It allowed for open communication between them and worked very well in getting Ginny to relay her feelings.
“How long will you move away?”
Mia reached for Ginny’s hands. “I’m not moving away. Never. I’ll be back in just under two weeks. We can talk by phone every day.”
“No.” Ginny slapped the table. “How long will you move away?” Her voice rose in frustration and Faith realized what Ginny was trying to say.
“Do you mean how far are they traveling?”
Ginny nodded, anger deflating.
“They’re going to Cozumel, which is in Mexico. To fly there by plane, it takes about two hours. So she won’t be very far away at all.”
“And,” Mia added quickly, “you get to stay at Lacey and Jake’s house. Won’t that be fun?”
“I want to stay here.” Her voice had an edge of hysteria that Faith knew preceded a tantrum.
“That’s okay, Ginny.” Faith kept her voice cool and calm. “You can stay here with me. Or maybe Jake and Lacey could stay here for those two weeks. We can ask them at lunch today. Would you like that?”
Ginny nodded and picked up her crayon again, clearly done with this conversation.
Mia blew out a silent breath and tilted her head toward the dining room.
Faith nodded and followed her out of the room.
The Covingtons’ maid, Bea, was busy setting the table for guests when they walked in. Chicken salad, croissants, and fresh fruit were laid out, along with a pitcher of sweet tea. White china and crystal glasses of water reflected the sunlight streaming through the window.
“This is ready, Miss Mia.” Bea wiped her hands on an apron.
Mia nodded. “It looks delicious, Bea. Have you eaten?”
“No, ma’am. I’ll wait until your company leaves.”
Mia waved her hand. “Don’t be silly. Everything’s set out. You go relax for a while.”
Bea hesitated, a wrinkle creasing the dark cocoa skin of her forehead. After a few moments, she swiped a hand over her tight bun, nodded, and stepped out.
“She’s still a little frightened of Cole,” Mia said. “He tries so hard to put her at ease, too.”
That was the odd thing about the Covingtons. They didn’t treat their staff like staff. They never barked orders or pretended they were invisible. At St. Ambrose, the students came from affluent backgrounds and knew it. As a teacher, Faith had often been demeaned and dismissed as if not important. In the two days since she’d arrived, Mia and Cole had insisted she eat with them and spoken to her as if she were their friend, not an employee. It made it hard to understand the boundaries.