One Lavender Ribbon

Chapter 20

Will worked his dive gear into his bag, wishing the deep burn in his stomach would go away. He’d sat up late with Pops, his mom and dad alongside as the four of them wasted the hours until bedtime. He had to admit, his parents knew how to care for someone hurting. His mom made tea and served it while the men assembled on the front porch. Pops had removed his watch and tapped it against his leg, held it to his ear, then tapped it again. Charles took the timepiece and used a pocket knife to open the back. He worked methodically, cleaning out dust and then rewinding the watch. When he finished, he handed it back to Pops. Pops remained quiet, but that was okay. There was more power, more strength, Will realized, in quiet comfort than in words, when the company was comprised of those most loved.

Yes, his mom and dad had their strengths. Will glanced at the house from his driveway once his dive gear was packed and loaded into his trunk. He considered going back in and making sure Pops would be okay. But a niggling little voice inside told him to let his mom and dad have some time alone with Pops. It’d be good for all of them.

Heartache was heartache, no matter the age of the recipient. Sara remained on the back deck for most of the morning. Her eyes were swollen and red. Adrienne figured a sleepless night was the culprit. She hadn’t slept much herself and had repeatedly gone to Sara’s door. She never knocked, just listened for the sound of the older woman breathing. Once, in the wee hours of the morning, she had stood there several minutes, listening to the old woman cry.

“Would you like more coffee, Sara?” she asked, sticking her head out the back door.

Haunted eyes trailed down to the full cup in her hands. “Oh, no dear.”

Adrienne stepped out. “I’m sure that’s cold. Let me take it for you.”

Frail fingers lifted the cup to Adrienne. “You were right. I should have told him.”

Adrienne swallowed hard and dropped quietly into the chair adjacent to Sara.

“But I never expected . . . a marriage proposal. That changed everything.”

The full cup was abandoned on the side table as Adrienne reached to take Sara’s hand. “How did things change?”

She brushed the soft white hair from her face. “We were building a friendship, maybe even falling in love, but . . . you can’t go into a marriage with a lie like that between you. And now it’s too late.” Sara focused her attention down the beach.

Adrienne followed her gaze and noticed the man tossing a bait net into the water. It was mesmerizing, really. The way he folded and draped the net over his shoulder, how it spun outward and into a perfect circle as he cast. “I’m sure the two of you will work things out and get beyond this.”

Sara pivoted to look at her. “There’s no getting beyond this. I ruined it again. Second chances are wonderful if you know what to do with them.”

Adrienne had no more words of encouragement, so she stayed quiet.

“Don’t let love slip through your fingers, Adrienne. When the net is cast upon you, don’t get spooked and scurry away.” Sara turned back to the beach. “It’s a lonely ocean when you’re all alone.”

Adrienne’s heart shattered into a few more jagged pieces. So much so, she barely heard the doorbell. Heavily laden with Sara’s grief, she ambled to the door. Shock registered first in her fingers and toes, then shot a path directly to her heart. “Will,” she whispered.

He was a statue, eyes cool, body board straight. “Wasn’t my idea to come. Pops wants to see Sara.” Adrienne moved out of the way as Pops, then Charles, and then Peg moved past her. Will was last.

Adrienne forced her attention to Pops, not Will. “She’ll be so happy to see you. She’s out on the back deck.”

“Thank you.” With his shoulders hunched forward, he shuffled to the back of the house.

Adrienne searched Peg’s face for an answer.

“He feels he owes her an apology. Leaving the way he did.”

Beside his mother, Will made a disgusted sound. “She’s the one who stormed off.”

Peg whipped around to face her son. “William Jefferson Bryant!”

Adrienne’s eyes rounded.

“Yes, she stormed off. After a proposal. A marriage proposal, Will. You may not understand, but for women, that’s a very big deal. Monumental, in fact. No matter how old you are.”

A dimple in Will’s cheek quirked, his jaw muscle furiously working.

Oh dear. And Adrienne thought she’d had a rough morning.

When Pops and Sara stood to walk down the beach, Adrienne offered coffee to the others left behind. She could only imagine the conversation going on outside, but she knew she had to tell them about the letters. Sara was breaking the news to Pops—of this she was certain. But she wouldn’t force the old woman to repeat it again. So she explained. The fact that Grace wouldn’t write. And how Sara had feared William wouldn’t have the will to survive without the hope letters from home could bring. All of it. Charles and Peg took it in with little response, but Will’s frown became a scowl. “Did you know this the whole time?”

“No, Will,” Adrienne huffed. “I found out the night of the military celebration. Sara knew she’d have to tell him one day, but she thought they were still building a friendship.”

His chin jutted forward. “A friendship based on lies.”

Adrienne’s anger flared. “Look, life isn’t as easy as you seem to think. And love complicates everything. Sara made a mistake.” She stepped toward him, squaring off and daring him to stop her. “She has been in love with him since she was fourteen years old. Do you know why Sara never married?”

Will swallowed and leaned back, out of the trajectory of her words that seemed to be pelting him like little poison darts.

Adrienne took his movement as an invitation to take one more step toward him. “She never got over Pops. Her whole life. Sixty years of loving a man she thought she’d never have.” When she realized she’d moved so close that their bodies were nearly touching, she pulled a breath and took a step back.

Will remained silent.

“She was terrified of losing him again, and if you can’t understand that, you’re far more heartless than I ever imagined.”

Will opened his mouth, but no words came. He rubbed a hand across his chin and muttered, “Okay.”

Peg reached up from the couch and took her son by the hand. “You can’t protect Pops from everything.”

Adrienne watched him flash a tiny smile at his mother.

After what felt like an eternity—but couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes—Pops and Sara returned. Unable to read their body language from a distance, Adrienne sighed with relief when they topped the beach steps and Pops’s hand slid into Sara’s.

He paused in the living room, resting a palm on the fireplace mantle. “I’ve never been a brilliant man. Average, I’d call myself. But I’m not ashamed of that. Right proud, I am. I’ve made it my life goal to be a good man. That’s about all. The good Lord has always smiled down on me. And once again, I find myself obtaining what I don’t deserve. Years back, two girls moved here from North Carolina with their momma.

“Many a lazy afternoon was spent on the water. Swimming or fishing,” he said.

He glanced back at the others. “I know I’m rambling, but it’s important to me that you all understand.” No one moved or made a sound.

“I joined the Army in ’42. And someone from home began to write to me.” As if suddenly reliving the war, Pops gripped the mantle more tightly to stabilize himself. “Unless you’ve experienced war, you can’t imagine it—the uncertainty, the stark reality of death that accompanies every breathing moment. We men had only each other. We fought for each other, we even cried for each other”—his gaze fell to the floor—“and sometimes we died for each other. Maybe that’s why the letters were so important to me. It reminded me that there was another world. I loved the men I served with, loved them like brothers. We were connected on a level only men in battle can understand. But I’d joined that war for another purpose. And as I would read the letters from home, I was reminded of that. I was reminded about the scent of magnolia in the summertime, blackberries in the spring, the ocean water crashing against the sand. And as I read those letters, I fell in love. Love for real.” His gaze went to Sara again. “Do you hear me, Sara? I fell in love with you sixty years ago through the letters.”

She no longer hid the tears. With one blink, they silently slipped down her cheeks.

“And that’s why I want my family to hear me when I ask this.” He moved to her and took her hand, pulling her up into his arms. Once face to face, he said, “Sara, will you marry me?”

Her voice was shaky, but no one could mistake the words. “Yes—yes, I will.”

Bittersweet happiness mingled with the pain of Adrienne’s own personal loss. The two warring factions fought their way through her body. She chose to dwell on the happiness. It had all begun with a letter, a simple handwritten letter, faded from long ago, and a determination to right the wrongs of the past. Though there’d been devastating bumps in this rocky road, things were turning out beautifully for Sara and Pops. And horribly for her. Refusing to let herself wallow in it, she moved toward them, arms outstretched, and hugged the family she had to say good-bye to.

He’d wanted to leave Adrienne’s house but was unable to get anyone on board with that plan. Everyone was all “Oooh-aaah, let’s make wedding plans.” Had they failed to remember this woman had lied to Pops? For years?

Will ran an angry hand through his hair and left the happy family inside. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, a warning to remain on land. Wind kicked sand onto his legs as he cast a glance through the window, where he spotted Pops waltzing in the kitchen with a delighted Sara.

Okay, fine. Maybe Adrienne did have a better handle on what his family needed. Maybe he didn’t always know what was best. Will picked up a shell. He examined it for a moment, then tossed it into the sea, just as Pops had done the day before.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Will knew that Adrienne was the best thing to ever walk into his life. If the two of them could just be airlifted to a secluded island, they’d have a shot. Will slipped his hands into his pockets and was strolling down the beach when his father’s voice drifted out to him. Will closed his eyes.

“Wait up, Will,” Charles said, trying to bridge the gap between them. He was smiling when he made it to his son. “Can I walk along with you?”

Will gestured around him. “It’s a public beach.”

Charles swallowed and let his gaze fall to the sand. His words were low, lacking the initial cheer. “I mean, would you mind company?”

Guilt shot through Will. This was his father. And he loved him. He just was so angry with him. “Sure, Dad. I’d like company,” he managed, and almost meant it.

Charles knelt to examine a coconut washed up on shore. “I need to talk to you, Will.” He rose and buried his hands in his own pockets, mimicking Will. Charles stared out to the horizon. “I’ve needed to for a long time.”

Will bristled.

Charles’ gaze moved to his son, tentatively. “Why are you so angry with me?”

Will could avert this discussion. He’d done it many times. But in the last couple of months he’d learned some things. And one of the biggest lessons was about things not always being as they appeared.

“Dad, it’s not that I’m angry.”

“No,” Charles interrupted, uncharacteristically, “It is, but I don’t know why.”

Will stared at him. “Are you kidding?”

The look in Charles’s eyes conveyed only confusion.

Will shook his head. “You ditched us, Dad. Not once, but twice.”

Charles frowned, still not getting it.

“You left your family for people you don’t even know. You did it once, and then when Pops needed you most, you did it again. For strangers, Dad.”

The older man slowly turned from Will. Tears stung his eyes as he stared at the storm clouds.

Studying his face, Will could see the lines, now deeper than he remembered. How long had his dad had the streaks of white-gray hair that peppered his temples? Suddenly, his dad looked old. Frail. As if Will’s confession had aged him twenty years right before his eyes.

Charles spoke, but it was barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never been good at sports,” he said in a mumbling tone, and Will wondered if his dad had lost it. “I can’t play basketball or baseball. Your mom beats me on the court.”

Alarmed by his father’s babbling, Will said, “What?”

But his dad was somewhere else, conversing with no one. “I’m a lousy fisherman. I get seasick when I even think about the water.”

Will’s tone drew his attention. “Dad,” he said sharply, “what are you talking about?”

Charles turned to face him. “I’ve always been so proud of your relationship with my dad.” He corrected himself. “I mean, it made me a bit uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. I just . . . ” He lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “I just always felt like an outsider looking in. I envied your closeness. You’re like a carbon copy of him. Baseball and all. I would probably be jealous if it weren’t for the joy I get watching you two together.”

Will tried to follow the conversation.

Charles straightened, chin tilting up. “My father and my son, closer than brothers.”

In Will’s entire life, he had never wondered how his relationship to Pops might make his dad feel. Charles Bryant was an intelligent man, but more bookish than physical. He couldn’t hit a ball or catch a Frisbee. Those things just weren’t natural for him. Fixing watches, though—well, that was in his power. And not just watches, but fixing computer programs and explaining the laws of physics so that a layperson could understand—that’s what Charles was great at. Will and Pops, on the other hand, were good at any sport thrown their way. Guilt, once again, tickled its way through Will’s system.

“When your grandma died, we were making arrangements to come home for good. I found out that you were planning on having Pops move in with you and—”

Will’s anger was tempered only marginally. This wasn’t a viable excuse. “And what, Dad? You just changed your plans? Yes, I wanted Pops to live with me, but you should have tried to stop me. You should have fought for him.” That’s what this was really about. His parents should have fought to keep Pops.

“Do you actually think you would have let me? Your mind was made up.” He placed a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will, everyone has a mission in life. You and Pops being together is right. But”— he shook his head—“If I had known you resented it—”

Will cut him off. “I don’t resent it. I love that Pops is with me. I just don’t understand how you could leave him.”

“When Pops found out we were making plans to return for good, he was angry. Our work in the field is very important to him. He said the people there needed us much more than he did. He said he’d never forgive us for coming back and leaving them. Reality set in, and I knew I really couldn’t offer him very much. We don’t share any of the same interests. I can’t take him fishing or boating. I agonized over what to do. One night, I had a dream. I saw you and Pops walking to your boat. It might sound silly, but I knew what to do. I just knew.”

Charles pulled in a ragged breath and picked up a clam shell. He dusted sand particles from it and flung it out into the water. It went a third of the distance Will’s shell had. “I should have talked to you about it, though. I guess this is the hardest part of being stationed overseas.” He turned to face his son. “A lot of people raise their families in the field. Many kids grow up that way and love it. They have two homelands. But we didn’t want that for you. We wanted you to grow up near your grandparents, playing ball and going to movies with your friends. We weren’t planning on going into the field until you were out of college, but you were so independent. You didn’t seem like you needed us. Didn’t seem like you had needed us since you were fourteen and got your first job. Your senior year, the opening came up. It was a year out, so you would be off at college. It just seemed like the right opportunity.”

Why had Will never heard these things? He wasn’t the ball and chain that kept his parents from leaving sooner. It was their love for him and Grandma and Pops that had kept him stateside. They wanted him to grow up here.

Charles placed both hands on Will’s upper arms and stared at him with intense blue eyes. “If I had known how you felt . . . ”

“I never knew some of your decisions were based on what was best for me. Dad, I’m so sorry.”

His dad hugged him. “Well, Mom and I figured we’d only get five or six years in the field until we’d need to come home for good. But maybe we should have waited to leave in the first place.”

“Why only five or six years?”

“Again, you’re the timeline. We were going to wait until you were out of college. We figured the natural order of things would come into play. After college comes marriage and . . . ” He watched his son. “You don’t really think your mother is going to live thirty hours away from her grandbabies, do you?”

“Well, I’ve probably bought you some time.” He pushed his fingers through his hair.

“Adrienne is quite an amazing woman, isn’t she? I wouldn’t give up on her,” Will’s father cast a glance at his son.

“She may have given up on me.”

“Time will tell,” Charles said. “Will, I’m really glad we talked.”

“Me too, Dad. It changes everything.” Will placed his arm around his father’s shoulder, and they slowly walked back to the house, enjoying the warmth of the sun that illuminated the world around them.

As he stepped onto the back patio, finding the perfect vision of Adrienne, who looked up from the kitchen sink, another storm gathered, this one in the depths of her coffee-colored eyes.

Her mind was made up. As slow as molasses, resolve worked its way through her system and pushed out every thought of second chances. She’d watched Will and his father walk back into the house and could see the weight had lifted off both men’s shoulders. Reunited. Which probably only meant one thing.

As he stepped into the kitchen, where she had been neatly tucked away, Adrienne turned to face him.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked.

Her head tilted back slightly—like she was readying for a punch. “Sure.” She let him take her by the hand into the formal dining room that offered slightly more privacy than the busy kitchen.

He drew a breath. “You were right in getting Mom and Dad here.”

The room was freshly painted, all but the floorboards where she’d run out of paint. It was hardly noticeable. You had to search to find the dark grimy area. But Adrienne knew it was there. And though the rest of the room looked gorgeous, filthy floorboards were all she could see.

His eyes began to plead when he saw her detached expression remain unchanged.

She had sensed the joy welling up in him when he first drew her into the room. The joy a man has when his whole world is in perfect order. But now she saw concern beginning to seep through the cracks. “When will I ever learn to listen to your gut instincts? Pops is happy. He and Sara are together. I understand where my dad is coming from. You were right.”

Dark eyes narrowed. “Oh, I was right?”

“Yes.” He reached for her, but she stepped back.

Her face remained stoic.

“I’m trying to apologize here.”

She cut him off. “So, do it.”

A frown drew his brows together. “I’m sorry, Adrienne. Truly.”

“No problem,” she said, words clipped. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel as they spoke. But she fiercely held his gaze.

His eyes flashed concern, trying and failing to gauge this reaction. “Okay,” he began slowly, “you’re still mad. I understand.”

She tossed the towel onto the table. “I’m not mad. I expected it, I was right, and now it’s over.” Her voice was solid and even.

“Well,” he stammered, “you’ve got a knack for repairing people. I just want you to know that, from now on, I won’t question your judgment about things.” Laughter from the next room drifted into the dining area to them. It deadened as it collided with the tension-filled space.

She blinked. “Not necessary.”

“It is necessary if we’re going to be together. I really care about you, Adrienne. You’ve brought me so much joy. I want you to know that I’ll trust you.”

Trust. What an easy five-letter word to say. “Thanks, but it really isn’t necessary.”

“I feel like what we have is special. I want to protect it.” He moved a little closer to her. “If we’re going to have a relationship—”

She cut him off. “We’re not, okay? We aren’t going to have a relationship. We aren’t in a relationship and we never will be, all right?” She watched as her words registered in his eyes, on his face, in his heart.

“But—”

“Look, Will, why would I choose to be in a relationship with someone who always initially thinks the worst of me? Sure, you always come back and apologize, but it’s just too painful, and I’m not willing to go through it anymore. Do you know what it feels like to have to walk on eggshells every moment of your life? I do, and I can’t go there again. I won’t.” She swallowed hard and looked away from the agony in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Will. I really am, but I just can’t.”

He pressed his lips together. His eyes pleaded with her, but she wouldn’t relent. She couldn’t. She’d spent five, nearly six years with Eric, hoping things would get better. Those personality traits didn’t improve. They only got worse.

It was almost over. He’d walk out of her life and she could move on, live a nice, quiet, peace-filled life. Paint those floorboards.

Then he said the unthinkable. His words, soft as a whisper but cutting as a knife. “But I love you.”

She pulled in a sharp breath. She hadn’t prepared for that. She hadn’t geared her heart or her mind to challenge that. A sickening cold rolled through her, leaving a wake of raw nerve endings. She tried to hold onto her convictions but could feel them slipping. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered back, and it nearly killed her. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

It looked like he’d just taken a bullet to the gut. A fist closed over his heart, his gaze bewildered, searching her as if she hadn’t heard his admission of love.

Her eyes dropped from him, unable to look at the pain. Slowly, she turned and went back into the kitchen, leaving him standing by the table, shoulders slumped, eyes hollow.

Safely in the kitchen, her body began to tremble. Though heated by the sun-warmed window, she’d grown cold. Not the outward coldness of a brisk winter wind or an ice skating rink or the ocean on a cool night. She felt the internal chill that spread from the inside out. She felt the chill of utter loneliness.

Putting her hands on her upper arms, she hugged herself, willing warmth into her shaking body. But no matter how cold and lonely, she knew she’d done the right thing. She’d heard of people putting themselves right back into the very situations they hated, but she’d never understood it before, not until now. She loved him too. Loved him with all her heart, but how could she be independent and strong when he questioned her on everything? Love and trust, she decided, were definitely two different things. And now, neither was in her foreseeable future.

From the mailbox, Adrienne took in the picturesque home before her. A Victorian beach house. Nearly remodeled and shining like a beacon. No granite, though. But it had been worth it. Her fingers ran over the check in her hand. She’d had to fight with the granite salesman to get her deposit back and had almost written it off as a loss, when finally he conceded. It had been two months since the birthday party, and Adrienne stood at the edge of her perfectly manicured lawn, check in her hand. She’d take it to the bank later and send it to help Charles and Peg’s mission.

Pops and Sara were going to marry in three months. Will’s parents would be back for the ceremony. While stateside, their full funding had been reinstated. It would be nice seeing them.

She closed the mailbox door and tipped her head back, letting the breeze lift her hair from her face. She wished it could blow away her gloom. Adrienne missed the busy lifestyle she’d had when she was a constant in the Bryant family. But she’d thrown herself into her work, and the house gleamed with the fruit of her labor. Though it sparkled, it was as lonely as she was. She could sense it. It needed the warmth of a family, the touch of voices, and the caress of people. She could give it none of these things. This failure added to the despair.

She’d seen Will a few times. He always tried to make conversation, but she always shut him down. It was just better to stay away as much as possible. It was painful to him and poison to her.

Things would have been okay if Sara hadn’t asked her to be the maid of honor. Adrienne knew this would inevitably throw her and Will together at some point.

She missed him. Adrienne sluggishly pulled herself up the front steps of her house. She missed him every day. Glancing at the now glowing front porch, she wondered if she should sell.

Chewing the inside corner of her mouth, she played with that idea. Yes, sell it. The work is almost done. Why not? You could move on. The wind picked up around her, the breeze carrying a scent of honeysuckle and mint, but underlying it was something she cherished even more. It was the tantalizing promise of a fresh start.

Wind still in her hair as she entered the house, she called Mary Lathrop. They discussed the details and decided that the house would go on the market in two months. That gave Adrienne time to finish the last of the remodel and would keep her here for the wedding a month later.

“I expect it to sell quickly,” Mary assured her.

Adrienne figured it would. It had been a prime, though dilapidated, property when she bought it. Now, the perfect location sported a perfect Victorian home.

Then what? A stack of magazines waited for her perusal, strewn across the living room floor. She carried them to their stand by the kitchen island. One ad slid from a booklet and fluttered to the tile. She watched it turn, then twist, and finally come to rest near the trash can. She scooped it up and held it over the can. Fingertips covering half of the words on the advertisement, she momentarily froze. “No,” she mumbled, and tossed the ad as she spun on her heels. But the ad hit the floor yet again. The movement grabbed her attention, and she pivoted.

Culinary School—why not you? stared up at her from the Italian tile floor. She stared back at it, arms folded over her chest and hip cocked.

Why not me? She tapped her index finger on her chin. This time, she moved the ad to the kitchen table. She loved to cook and had an aptitude for blending ingredients into tantalizing concoctions that made others gush. Why not me? she asked herself and tucked hair behind her ear. A hint of a smile formed.

Adrienne began to plan her future.

Fifteen minutes after beginning her journey, the phone rang. It was Sammie. “Hey, Chicago. Busy?”

Yes, Adrienne thought. I’m quite busy planning my future, which excludes you and all the other people I’ve grown to love here. But instead she said, “No, just ran to the mailbox.”

“Can you come to the coffee shop?”

“I guess,” Adrienne replied, but knew she wasn’t the best of company.

“Good, there’s something going on here that you should see.”

Adrienne headed up the stairs, wondering what could be so fascinating to cause straightforward Sammie to sound mysterious and . . . excited. There was a time when words like “something going on that you should see” would have sparked Adrienne’s imagination. A sucker for an enigma, her mind would have contemplated every possible scenario from a natural disaster to a traveling circus taking up residence in Sammie’s parking lot.

But not any more. Those things seemed childish and silly now that she was busy nursing a broken heart. It was safer to just grab her keys and make the five-minute drive without trying to guess. Guessing only led to disappointment.

Sammie had kept a close eye on her for the first month after the break-up—if you could call it that—with Will, but in the last several weeks, Sammie put away the mother-hen attitude and was back to being a somewhat more normal best friend.

Adrienne drove to the coffee shop, but when she saw the multitude of cars that filled the parking lot, she quickly scanned for lion cages and freak-show trailers. There were none to be found. Just normal vehicles and people. People everywhere. She had to park nearly a block away. Stepping inside the crowded coffee shop, she quickly spotted Sammie’s flash of red hair. She sidestepped a large group and said, “What’s going on?”

Sammie pointed, face beaming. “Here comes Ryan. He can explain.”

Adrienne frowned.

Ryan met the two women and reached out to hug Adrienne. “Remember the letter about the random act of kindness?”

She nodded. “William’s letter, yes.”

“Well, we published that part of it in the university’s newspaper with a challenge to be inspired.” Ryan gestured with arms outstretched. “All these people heeded the call. They’re going today to Northside Elementary School to paint and clean it for the upcoming school year.”

Looking around, Adrienne noticed most of the people were young and college age, and all of them were dressed to work.

“This is amazing. Why Northside?”

“They have the least amount of funding and the greatest need.” Sammie grabbed her arms, eyes going wide. “Adrienne, don’t you see what a difference you’ve made?”

Adrienne stepped back a little, tried to pull from her grasp. “Me?”

“Yes, if you hadn’t found those letters, if you hadn’t taken it upon yourself to find William, none of this would have happened.”

Adrienne stared at the floor. A lot of things wouldn’t have happened, like her broken heart.

Sammie’s attention was drawn to the door. She started waving vigorously behind her.

But Adrienne continued to examine the grout in the coffee shop’s tile floor as she considered age-old letters inspiring young people. Finally, the vision of scores of people painting and cleaning took root. Excitement quickly followed. “Ryan, congratulations. This is an amazing thing you’ve done.”

“I didn’t do this. I just told the reporter. This was all put together by him.” He pointed behind her.

Adrienne spun around. And met Will face to face. All the breath left her lungs.

Will reached past her to shake Ryan’s hand. “Thanks for coming. I’ve got those paint tarps in the back of my car. I left the trunk open.”

Ryan disappeared and Adrienne blinked, trying to understand.

“Can you believe this?” Will said with a wide sweeping gesture. He smiled, and the entire room melted away from them. “I thought maybe fifteen or twenty people might show up, if we were lucky.”

“How?” This whole Will and Ryan on the same project with Sammie in the middle of it thing was like a weird dream.

“When I saw the article at the college, I contacted the reporter. The scuba team was already looking for more ways to reach out to the community. You remember sitting in on one of our meetings, right?”

“Right,” she barely mumbled.

“When I told the reporter who I was, he wanted to do another article, one about Pops. We agreed. With the stipulation that we put forth a precedent. Be Inspired. Do something out of the ordinary, a random act of kindness. We offered people to join us here to work on Northside School.”

A coy grin slashed Adrienne’s face. “An article about Pops, huh?”

Will’s green eyes sparkled. “Yes. It’s important to remember the past, Adrienne. The past shapes who we are.”

Those were her words. Words from, oh, what felt like an eternity ago. Words Adrienne had said to Will. Words that had changed him. And now, the challenge to allow the same phrase to change her was evident. He wasn’t talking about kids or schools or acts of kindness. Will held her gaze as if those green globes could strip away every ounce of her reserve. Maybe they could, there was so much power in this man. Beside him she felt small. A thought struck her. “Who’s paying for all this?”

Will blinked, looked away. Tried to catch someone’s attention across the room. He was . . . uncomfortable, and the reality of that intrigued Adrienne.

“Well, we better get started,” he said.

When he walked past, Adrienne caught his arm. “You’re paying for it?”

Will didn’t answer. White-hot sparks burst from where her skin contacted his. She could practically see them. Adrienne wanted to pull her hand away, but the electricity between them caused her fingers to tremble, not release. His response was a quiver that rumbled from him . . . right into her. Skin to skin, the heat burned, but still she couldn’t draw away. Will looked down into her face. His lips were parted; he smelled like the leather from his car and that essence she had never quite been able to name. Or resist.

“Come with me,” he whispered, and though Adrienne knew he was offering her to join the group, there was another offer beneath. Something that made her feel stripped of all inhibitions—something that made her feel powerful, womanly. Though she knew she shouldn’t, she dragged those words deep into herself, let them scratch and scrape in her innermost being, let her mind trail down a dangerous path. How could she have felt so small next to this man only moments ago, yet now—well, now she felt able to conquer the world. Sara’s words drifted into her head: “The ocean’s a lonely place when you’re all alone.”

Adrienne squared her shoulders. Mustered her courage. She might have to sort out all the underlying questions and innuendos that had filled Will’s words later, but she could answer the surface question. “I’m in.” She released Will’s arm.

Until she spoke, Adrienne had forgotten Sammie was there. “You can practically remodel the whole thing with a group like this. There’s got to be a hundred people here.”

As Adrienne took her hand from his arm, Will seemed as though he left—unwillingly—that dark, intimate place they’d just been. He smiled. “It will sparkle when we’re done. We’ve even gotten an okay to paint some murals on the walls. Those kids won’t recognize their school building.”

Adrienne imagined small children stepping into the freshly painted school. What would it be like to watch little faces and happy eyes study the murals painted especially for them?

“Will, this really is wonderful,” she said. “Congratulations.”

His eyes locked on hers again. And once more, her heart stopped beating.

She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of her disheveled appearance and annoyed with herself for being aware. She’d already been dressed to paint, having planned to work on her house. She hadn’t changed when she got the call from Sammie.

Will pulled half of his lower lip into his mouth. A soft curve lit the opposite side of his face, and for one more flash, she was the only person in the universe. “I’m glad you’re coming along.”

“Well . . . ” She rolled her eyes. “I did have some extremely urgent things I was going to do for myself. But suddenly, I feel inspired.”