Barefoot in the Rain (32 page)

“And you think this new job is the risk I need to take?”

“This new job and…” Lacey pulled her closer to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Will Palmer.”

“I’ll think about it,” she promised. Then, after a second, she smiled. “I’ll make some lists.”

Lacey laughed. “Excellent sign.” Her phone vibrated. “There’s my man. See you tomorrow.”

Jocelyn let her out the front door and waved to Clay, who walked down the path with a tiny flashlight beam bouncing with each step. She watched them greet each other with a kiss, then waved good night.

When she closed the door, she stood for a long time leaning against it, her hands pressed on the gleaming wood, imagining the hands that had made that wood.

On her.

Yes, if she took the job, she’d be near Will.
And
Guy.

She’d certainly never expected this when she came here for refuge. She might have been safer staying in L.A. and dodging the media.

Still hungry for air, she opened the front door again, frowning when she saw that little light moving down toward the beach. She stepped outside and peered toward the moving light, seeing Clay and Lacey’s silhouettes in the cloud-covered moonlight, strolling the beach, stopping to kiss.

That was love and yet there was no fear, no impending doom, no sense that love was a lie. Couldn’t Jocelyn look to her best friend as an example instead of her own parents?

Longing squeezed her, stinging her eyes, burning her stomach. Envy, flat out and so real, grabbed hold and took complete ownership.

What would it be like to trust a man like that? What would it be like to believe in that kind of love? What would it be like… with Will?

Good God, she never wanted anything so much in her life. What was stopping her, except Guy?

On every level, it was her father who had stolen that kind of happiness from her. Would putting him away in one of those places free her? Would taking him out of the picture open her heart to possibilities?

No. She’d have to forgive and forget. One she couldn’t and the other she wouldn’t.

The soft ring of Lacey’s laughter floated over the sand, like music in the moonlight, a reminder of what Jocelyn could never, ever have but wanted more than she’d ever realized.

J
ocelyn had risen at 4:00 a.m.and launched into the mother of all lists, feeling a little less burdened by the time the sun came up. Sitting on the front patio watching the water and sky change from the deep violet of night to shades of morning peach, she smoothed her hands over the pages, satisfied with every action item, priority rating, deadline, and the lovely little boxes reserved for check marks.

She had a plan. Several of them, as a matter of fact, with various strategies dependent on the rollout of different tactics for every one of her pending issues.

She closed her eyes, dropped her head against the cushion, and smiled.

In other words, anything could happen, but she would be ready for whatever it was. Maybe the first thing that should happen was some sleep. Or at least coffee.

“Hey. Wake up.”

She popped up with a soft gasp, the sight of Tessa holding two large paper cups as welcome as just about anything she could have imagined.

“My supreme sacrifice for you,” Tessa said, climbing the two steps to join Jocelyn and hand her a cup. “I’m drinking nonorganic Lipton from the Super Min instead of my usual Nepalese black tea brewed exclusively in the Himalayas. You, however, get Charity Grambling’s finest.”

“You could be carrying motor oil and I’d drink it right now,” Jocelyn said, scooting over to make room on the patio seat. “Bless you, child. There’s a coffeemaker in there, but I think I need to grind beans.” She sipped, closing her eyes in pleasure. “Call me crazy, but I like Charity’s coffee. This is early even for you organic farmers, isn’t it?”

“Mmm. I didn’t sleep well.”

“That makes two of us,” Jocelyn said, but added a gentle pat on Tessa’s leg, so tanned and toned under her work shorts. “I make lists when I can’t sleep.” She angled her head toward the stack of paper she’d placed on the end table.

“I know that,” Tessa said. “I was your roommate in college, remember?”

“What do you do when you can’t sleep?” Jocelyn frowned. “Not that I remember you ever having a problem with that.”

Tessa shrugged. “I go dig in the dirt, of course, which is where I was going when I found you. Want to come and help me plant the next cycle of bok choy and kale or just take a walk on the beach?”

Jocelyn heard the subtext:
I need to talk to a friend
. “I’ll walk the beach with you.”

Taking their cups, they crossed the path and maneuvered through the sea oats. The tide was low, leaving a huge expanse of untouched cool, cream-colored sand peppered with a colorful array of shells.

“Good day for collecting shells,” Tessa mused.

“Perfect.” The coral reef and sandbar hidden under the calm waters of Barefoot Bay offered up plentiful and exquisite shells with each high tide, and when the waters receded, collectors could score.

“I bet every single person who stays here takes home a few as souvenirs.”

“Can’t blame them.” The thought left a little impression on Jocelyn’s heart, the slightest longing to be here when those guests discovered all the secrets of Barefoot Bay.

“I’m so grateful Lacey got to keep all this land and do the right thing with it,” Tessa mused. “I mean, I know development was inevitable after that hurricane, but at least Casa Blanca is going to be natural and built to respect the environment, not destroy it.”

“It’s going to be a great place,” Jocelyn agreed. “One of a kind.”

Tessa gave her a sideways look. “Great enough to lure you here?”

Jocelyn laughed softly. “It seems Lacey’s suggestion has turned into the talk of the town.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t tell Charity or it would be. Are you even tempted to consider it, Joss?”

Why lie? “A little.” A lot. “It’s complicated.”

“Moving from L.A., leaving your business, and
starting a whole new job?” Tessa asked. “Complicated would be an understatement. But I’m so happy to hear you’re considering it.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as ‘considering,’ but, well, let’s put it this way, it merited a few lines on my morning lists.”

“Cool.” Tess waited a few beats, then gave Jocelyn a sideways look. “Who’s going to bring this up first?”

“About Lacey?”

Tessa nodded. “I’m only a little mad that she told you first.”

Jocelyn sipped her coffee with one hand and put her free arm around Tessa. “She didn’t tell me. It kind of slipped out.”

Tessa didn’t answer, looking down as though she were interested in the shells and letting her hair cover her face. Jocelyn dipped a little so she could get a good look at her friend. “Is that all you’re mad about?”

Tessa paused, sipping her tea and making a face when the offensive taste hit her tongue. “God, I’m not mad. I’m just, you know…”

“I do know,” Jocelyn assured her. “You feel like crap and, worse, you feel guilty about it. You know you should be all kinds of happy for Lacey—and you are—but you hear the clock ticking and you’re not quite ready to accept the fact that you may never have your own baby.”

Tessa slid her a look. “Do you have to be so raw and honest?”

“Am I right?”

No answer.

“You want euphemisms and platitudes?” Jocelyn asked. “You want me to dance around the truth? Or do you want to solve your problems?”

“Just my luck to pick the hard-ass control-freak life coach to talk to in my time of need.”

“It’s not like this is the first time we’ve talked about it, Tess. And I’m not a hard ass.”

“You’re tough.”

Was she? “I don’t feel so tough right now, but I am a life coach, so making someone look at the truth is usually my default mode. And a list,” she added with a smile.

“What would be on my list?”

“Your problems.”

Tessa shook her head, a soft breeze lifting one of her golden-oak waves. “I don’t have any problems, Joss. I love my new job, I love living here on Mimosa Key.”

“Your ex-husband is a baby-making machine and you want one more than you want your next breath and your closest friend and co-worker just announced she’s pregnant at thirty-six.”

“Seven. Which should give me hope; Lacey’s a few years older than we are.”

“You don’t need hope, honey—you need an action plan.”

“I need a new uterus.”

Jocelyn puffed out some air, not quite sure how to respond to that, because Tessa was so dead set on having her own baby, not someone else’s.

“And I could use a husband.”

“So traditional for an organic tea-drinking hippie like you.”

“I’m not a hippie!” Tessa leaned her shoulder into Jocelyn to nudge her hard. “My parents were, but I’m just…”

Jocelyn waited, knowing the next word would be the closest thing to the truth.

“Desperate,” Tessa admitted on a sigh.

“Aw, Tess.” Desperation was the worst. “You know you have options.”

“I don’t want to do it alone, and honestly, I had a husband, remember? I can’t get pregnant for love or money. We tried both.”

“Seriously, Tess, why won’t you consider adoption?”

She shook her head. “It’s not what I want.” She stopped, looking down at a grouping of shells, then she bent over to pick one up. “Look at this. Pure perfection.”

“Throw it away,” Jocelyn said.

“Why?”

“Just toss it as far as you can.”

“I like it. I want to keep it.” She stuffed her hand into her pocket. “Since I moved here, I’ve been collecting them. I met a local artist who’s kind of a shell expert, and he makes—”

“He? Interesting.”

“Shut up. He makes these amazing pieces and I thought I might try my hand—”

“Throw it away,” Jocelyn ordered.

Tessa stared at her, their gazes locked. “Fine.” Yanking it back out of her pocket, she whipped the shell over her shoulder and angled her head. “And your point is?”

“That could be your baby.”

“Oh, please.”

“I’m serious. Some perfect baby is being… let go today. Somewhere, someone is having a baby that needs a good mother. That child is out there, like one of these shells, waiting for you.”

Tessa started to argue, then closed her mouth, shaking her head. “I’ve heard the argument and I’m not going to
change my mind. If you think that makes me some kind of selfish monster, then—”

“Of course it doesn’t. It makes you a liar. You don’t want
a
baby. You want
your
baby. Your body won’t cooperate. So let go of the dream or adopt a baby.”

“You should talk about being a liar.”

Jocelyn almost spewed her sip of coffee. “Excuse me?”

“Telling your father you’re with
Clean House
.”

“I tried to tell him who I was and it didn’t sink in. Don’t try to make that whole charade my fault. I’m just going along with what Will wants. For now, anyway.”

“Will wants you.”

“Oh, Tess. Will knows too much about me.”

“And that’s a problem?” She choked, incredulous. “Look at it another way. He knows everything you’ve been through and he still cares about you. Maybe more because of it. That’s a gift, Joss. That’s a rare and wonderful—Oh my God, look. A fighting conch.”

Tessa loped away, scooping a shell from the ground.

“What is it?” Jocelyn asked.

“A rare beauty.” She flipped the shell on its back, still studying it. “This type of shell is found almost exclusively in the southern U.S. Barefoot Bay has some of the most exquisite conchs in the country.”

“I didn’t know that.”

She held up to the sun. “That orange iridescence means the animal that lived in this shell was hearty and maybe got into a few scrapes down at the bottom of the sea.”

“Whoa. Sounds like someone’s been spending an awful lot of time with the local shell expert.”

“Who’s about fifty-five. Can it.”

Jocelyn smiled and reached for the shell. “Let me see. This is a keeper, huh?”

Tessa pulled away. “Not a chance I’m going to give you this so you can toss it and make some life-coaching point.”

Laughing, Jocelyn reached for it. “I just want to see it. I swear.”

“You do?” Her soft brown eyes glinted. “Fine. Open your hand.”

She was up to something. Still, Jocelyn obliged, palm up, and Tessa set the shell right in the middle of her hand.

“This, my friend, is a keeper.” Tessa was so serious and quiet that her voice made the fine hairs on the back of Jocelyn’s neck rise. “Maybe a little flawed, but still great looking.” Tessa traced the soft rim of the shell. “The edges are just worn enough to know this one’s been in the sea for a long time, but it’s still beautiful and will last for several thousand more days before time and sand and wind break it down.”

Jocelyn looked at her, sensing exactly where this was going. “Will?”

Tessa lifted one shoulder. “You can throw it back in the sea, if you like. But it is being offered to you to keep.”

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “You’ve gone from coaching to melodrama.”

“I’m making a point using a seashell, just like you did.”

“Are you giving this to me?” Jocelyn asked.