Seaside Reunion (16 page)

The answer was obvious.

Unworthy.

Lindsey closed her eyes, her heart aching for that lost, neglected little boy. And for the solitary man beside her, whose quest for—validation? forgiveness? redemption? all of the above?—had driven him cross country, back to the one place where life had made sense.

She tightened her grip on his fingers, which remained entwined with hers. “What happened to your mom wasn’t your fault. You were just a little boy who wanted to go to a school picnic and sample the normal childhood that you’d missed out on for most of your life. Your father’s blame was grossly misplaced.”

“I’d like to believe that. But the truth is, even though I was a kid, I knew whatever Mom had was more than a headache. I shouldn’t have gone. Dad was right. About that, at least.”

“And you’ve spent your life trying to atone for that mistake. To prove you’re worthy.” She studied his face. “That’s why you put yourself in the line of fire, isn’t it?”

He frowned at her. “I think you’re getting way too psychological. I needed to earn a living. I’m a decent writer, and I like action, so I put the two together and found a job that suits me. End of story.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. It’s an interesting job. I like it.”

“Then why did you take a leave of absence?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You don’t cut a guy any slack, do you? But then, you never did.” The ghost of a smile softened his taut lips and took the edge off his words. “I don’t recall little Lindsey Callahan ever backing away from a challenge. She was one spunky kid.”

“I’m Lindsey Collier now. A different person.” She played with the broken cookie in her lap. “It’s funny, though. With you, I still feel like Lindsey Callahan.”

“And you still make me feel like the Nathaniel I was for those few months in Starfish Bay. Before my mom died. Before foster care. Before Afghanistan.”

The slight roughening of his voice on the last word was telling. “What happened there, Nate?”

“Too much.” His answer came out flat. “Embedded combat coverage is brutal. You live with the troops. Eat with them. Listen to their fears and hopes and dreams. Become friends with them. And then you watch them die, one by one.”

A shudder rippled through her. “I can’t even imagine.”

He gave a stiff shrug. “After a while, you learn to deal with it.”

“How? Based on what you’ve said about your faith, I’m assuming you didn’t turn to God for answers.”

“No. Until I came back here, I hadn’t spoken to God in years. I coped by shutting off the horror. Shoving it into a corner and not thinking about it. Except at night, in the darkness, when sleep wouldn’t come and the images strobed across my mind. But for the most part, my technique worked. Until the day I went out with an advance squad on a reconnaissance mission.”

He squeezed her fingers in a numbing grip, but she didn’t flinch. Whatever was coming next, she knew it had been the catalyst for his cross-country trip to Starfish Bay.

“We were walking along a deserted road. The next thing I knew, the world exploded. A whole sequence of roadside bombs had detonated. I remember flying through the air, surrounded by screams and chaos. I landed on my back, four feet from the sergeant. A good guy. Brave. Smart. One semester away from his engineering degree. A wife back home. A baby on the way. He was facing me. His lips were moving, but there was no sound. And there was a huge hole in his chest.”

Nate blinked. Sucked in a ragged breath. “I watched the sand underneath him turn dark as the life seeped out of him. I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t help any of them. All twelve of those soldiers died while I walked away with six stitches and a concussion. It didn’t make sense. I should have died, too. They were all better men than me. They deserved to live. Why was I the only one who survived?”

His voice broke, and Lindsey caught the sheen in his eyes before he shifted away on the pretense of looking for the cap for the water bottle.

That last, tortured question, torn from his very soul, told her at last why he was here. He’d come back to the one place where the world had treated him kindly, hoping to find answers that would help him once more make sense of his life and give it purpose.

All at once, Lindsey saw her own trials in a new light. Yes, she’d suffered trauma. But she had mostly happy memories. Plus a healthy amount of self-esteem. The only pleasant memories the man beside her had were confined to a few months in Starfish Bay. And the one man who could have shored up his son’s self-esteem had instead left him with a legacy of guilt and shame.

It was tragic.

Yet despite the adversities he’d faced, despite any shortcomings he might see in himself, Nate Garrison had grown into a generous, caring man. One who deserved her affection and respect, if not more.

Shoving the daypack between them out of the way, Lindsey scooted closer and angled toward him. Hesitated. Then followed her heart and reached out to him.

He jerked as her fingers made contact with the slight stubble on his cheek. When he turned toward her, his lashes were spiky with moisture.

“I’m so sorry.” She choked out the words, wishing she could offer more. Support. Sympathy. Solace. Something—anything—that would mitigate the pain this man had suffered. But she came up blank. “Even though I can’t answer your question, I can tell you this. I’m glad you survived. Otherwise, our paths would never have crossed again.”

He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, loosening his grip as his eyes softened with gratitude…and another emotion she chose to ignore for the moment. “Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s true. Our reunion has had a few rough edges, but on the whole I think it’s been a positive thing.” As she spoke, she eased her hand from his and tried to unobtrusively flex her fingers to get the blood flowing again.

He homed in on her subtle gesture at once, twin creases denting his brow. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

She tried to tuck it behind her, but he reached around and tugged it back into view, staring at the white ridges as he cradled it with his long, lean fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”

“Your story was too compelling to interrupt. And I’m fine.” She wiggled her fingers to demonstrate. Already they were beginning to take on a normal skin tone again. “See?”

“There’s a faster way.”

Before she could object, he began to massage her hand, his touch tender and caring.

Her protest died in her throat.

“Look what I found!”

A small, grimy hand suddenly appeared in front of her face, a bright yellow banana slug resting in the palm.

“That’s a big one.”

Nate’s hoarse comment registered somewhere in her peripheral consciousness. As did the small creature in Jarrod’s palm. But front and center was the unexpected feeling of contentment that swept over her as Nate continued to massage her fingers—and her heart.

“Hey, how come you guys are holding hands?”

It took a second for Jarrod’s question to register. Once it did, she jerked her hand free.

This time Nate let her go.

As she scrambled to think of a way to explain the situation, Nate stepped in. “Because we’re friends.”

“Yeah?” Jarrod gave them a once-over. “That’s cool.”

“How about another cookie before we start back to the trailhead?” Lindsey snatched up the bag, hoping to distract him.

“Okay. Let me put this little guy back where I found him. That’s what my dad always said to do.” His animation dimmed a notch. “We used to go to the redwoods sometimes, just him and me. For a little while today, it kind of felt like he was with me. Maybe I’ll ask my mom to bring me back again soon.”

Without waiting for a response, he scurried back toward the edge of the clearing.

“Touchstones.” Lindsey looked over at Nate.

“Yeah. I had the same thought. Seems like we’re in sync. In a lot of ways.” He leaned closer and stroked his index finger down the back of her hand.

Lindsey was saved from having to respond by Jarrod’s reappearance. But as she doled out the last of the cookies, she knew Nate was right. They were in sync.

As for what the future held, she had no idea.

But for the first time since Mark’s death, she was looking forward to finding out.

Chapter Eleven

“M
y word.” Genevieve stopped beside Nate’s table in the Orchid Café and refilled his lemonade. “You’ve created quite a stir with that article of yours.”

Lost in the memory of Lindsey’s hand in his as they’d hiked back to the trailhead yesterday, Nate had to forcibly shift gears. It seemed everyone in town had read or heard about his piece since Lindsey had posted a copy—with his permission—at the Mercantile.

“I hope it helps.”

“It already is. I can feel the mood swinging in our favor. And we’re going to be getting even more publicity this week. A woman from one of the TV stations in San Francisco called early this morning. They’re sending a crew up to do a feature for tomorrow night’s program and needed two rooms for tonight. And a reporter from the
San Francisco Examiner
made a reservation, too.”

Amazing. None of the battlefield stories he’d risked his life for had ever received this kind of attention, though they’d won a few writing awards. It had taken a subject that required him to risk his heart rather than his neck to truly touch people.

The email full message on his computer this morning was further proof of that.

Nate picked up his last French fry. “Any interest from the local media?”

“You bet. There was a woman from the Crescent City paper nosing around yesterday. And see that guy over there?” She gestured with the pitcher toward the stool-lined counter, the lemonade sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “He’s with the
Eureka Times-Standard
. You want me to introduce you? You could give him an interview.”

“No.” His response was swift. And adamant. “I’m more comfortable on the other side of the pen.”

“I can see why. That piece of yours brought a tear to my eye.” She rested the pitcher on the edge of the table. “I have my own touchstone, you know. A special place back home in Georgia. I always stop by when Lillian and I head east for our annual visit.”

Nate’s email was full of stories like that. But he was curious about Genevieve’s. “Tell me about it.”

A wistful smile playing at her lips, she settled the pitcher on the table and stared into space. “It’s an abandoned peach orchard on the edge of town. Been there for as long as I can remember. Doesn’t mean a thing to anyone else. But every time I pass by, I think of the day my Sam proposed to me, with the wind rustling the leaves and the sky so blue and the smell of ripe peaches in the air. For that moment in time, everything was perfect.”

Just like his months in Starfish Bay.

She sniffed. Blinked. Gave him a wavery smile as she picked up the pitcher. “Sorry. The waterworks turn on whenever I think of that place. The smell of fresh peaches can do it to me, too. Anyone watching me bake a peach pie would think I’d lost a screw or two. You want anything else this morning?”

“No, thanks. I’ve reached my limit.”

“You put away a hearty lunch.” She examined his clean plate. “Must still be making up for all the calories you expended on your hike yesterday.”

He should have known someone would spot them in the redwoods and spread the word. “Don’t tell me the mayor saw us at the park, too?”

“Not this time. Cindy and Jarrod stopped in for dinner last night. That boy was more talkative than he’s been since before his father died, God rest his soul. I heard all about your outing—the banana slug, the oatmeal cookies, the giant ferns…the hand-holding.” She gave him a knowing wink.

His neck warmed. “I was massaging her fingers.”

Genevieve hooted, drawing the attention of several nearby diners. “Now that’s a new one. I’ll have to pass it on to Lillian. She’ll get a kick out of it.”

The reporter at the counter looked their way and narrowed his eyes. Like he was trying to figure out why he recognized Nate.

His cue to exit. Before the man connected him to the combat photo that had run with his touchstones piece.

He rose, keeping his back to the reporter. “Don’t get your hopes up, Genevieve. I’m only a temporary resident in Starfish Bay.”

“It’s not my hopes that matter, young man. It’s yours. And I’m praying you’re smart enough to recognize a good thing when you see it.”

With that, she bustled back toward the counter. Giving him no chance to respond.

And what would he have said, anyway? She was right. He did recognize a good thing when he saw it.

The question was, did Lindsey feel the same way? And if she did, how could they make this work? She’d left Starfish Bay once; he had a feeling she wasn’t inclined to do so again. Yet his life was elsewhere.

Or it had been.

But maybe there were options.

Mulling that over, he pushed through the café door and looked toward The Point. That had always been a good place for thinking through problems. And talking to God. He’d done a lot of the latter once upon a time, under the guidance of Reverend Tobias.