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Twice in a Lifetime
Marta Perry


When her family calls broken-hearted Georgia Lee Bodine home to Charleston, she knows there's trouble. Her beloved grandmother hired some fancy lawyer to carry out eccentric requests–and unearth an old family secret.Georgia plans to send Matthew Harper packing until she discovers how much the widowed father cares about her grandmother. And that his heart is even more deeply guarded than her own. As they work together on the Bodine history, they uncover a surprise about themselves: that love can strike twice in a lifetime.









“I’m here to spend a little time with my favorite grandmother.”


Miz Callie’s cheeks flushed. “Your only grandmother, as you well know. Georgia, this is Matthew Harper. Matthew, my granddaughter, Georgia Bodine.”

She hadn’t identified him as her attorney, and he wondered if the omission was deliberate. He extended his hand again, his eyebrows lifting. Georgia wouldn’t refuse it this time unless she wanted open warfare in front of her grandmother.

Georgia took his hand, and he closed his fingers around hers, holding on a bit longer than she’d probably want.

Small, not much taller than her tiny grandmother, Georgia was all softness—soft curves of her body, soft curls in that long, dark brown hair, a soft curve of smooth cheeks. Until you got to her eyes, that is. A deep, deep brown, he guessed they could look like velvet, but they were hard as stone when they surveyed him.

Those eyes issued a warning, but that wouldn’t deter him. Fulfilling his client’s wishes was a trust to him.




MARTA PERRY


has written everything from Sunday School curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in more than twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for the Love Inspired line.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her six beautiful grandchildren, traveling, gardening or relaxing with a good book.

Marta loves hearing from readers, and she’ll write back with a signed bookmark and/or her brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.




Twice in a Lifetime

Marta Perry





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


When I look at thy heavens, the work of thy fingers,

the moon and the stars which thou hast established;

what is man, that thou should remember him?

Or mortal man, that thou should care for him?

—Psalms 8:3–4


This story is dedicated to my readers, with the hope

they will love the Bodine family. And, as always, to

Brian, with much love.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Questions for Discussion




Chapter One


Georgia Bodine pulled into the crushed-shell parking space of the aging beach house and got out, the breeze off the ocean lifting her hair and filling her with a wave of courage that was as unexpected as it was welcome. She might be a total failure at standing up for herself, but to protect her beloved grandmother, she could battle anyone.

Couldn’t she?

Refusing to let even the hint of a negative thought take hold, Georgia trotted up the worn wooden stairs. The beach house, like most on the Charleston barrier islands, had an elevated first floor to protect against the storms everyone hoped would never come.

The dolphin knocker smiled its usual welcome. The corners of her lips lifted in response, and she rushed through the door, calling for her grandmother as if she were eight instead of twenty-eight.

“Miz Callie! I’m here!”

Her impetuous run took her through the hall and into the large living room that ran the depth of the house. Sunlight pouring through the windows overlooking the Atlantic made her blink.

Someone sat in the shabby old rocker that was her grandmother’s favorite chair, but it wasn’t Miz Callie.

The man rose, looking as startled by her bursting into the house as she felt finding him here. Aside from the stranger, the room—with its battered, eclectic collection of furniture accumulated over generations and its tall, jammed bookcases—was empty. Where was Miz Callie, and what was this stranger doing here?

The man recovered before she could ask the question. “If you’re looking for Mrs. Bodine, she went upstairs to get something. I’m sure she’ll be right back.”

A warning tingle ran along her skin. The interloper was in his thirties, probably, dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks that were more formal than folks generally wore on Sullivan’s Island. He stood as tall as the Bodine men, who tended to height, but tense, as if ready for a fight. Brown hair showed a trace of gold where the sunlight pouring through the window hit it, and his blue eyes were frosty. The few words he’d spoken had a distinctly northern tang.

This was the lawyer, then, the one causing all the trouble. The one who had Uncle Brett muttering about Yankee carpetbaggers and her daddy threatening to call everyone from Charleston’s mayor to the South Carolina governor, with a few council members thrown in for good measure. This was—had to be—Matthew Harper.

He took a step toward her, holding out his hand. “I’m Matt Harper. And you are…”

“Georgia Lee Bodine.” No matter how rude it was, she would not shake hands with the man. Her fists clenched. “Miz Callie’s granddaughter.”

Wariness registered in his eyes at the name, and he let his hand drop to his side, his mouth tightening. He knew who she was. Maybe he even knew why the family had called her home from Atlanta in such a rush.

Do something about your grandmother, Georgia Lee. You’ve always been close. She’ll listen to you. You have to talk some sense into her before it’s too late.

Who were they kidding? Nobody ever talked Miz Callie out of anything she’d set her mind on. Certainly not Georgia Lee, the least combative of the sprawling Bodine clan.

A flurry of footsteps sounded, and Miz Callie rushed into the room.

“Georgia Lee!”

Georgia barely had time to register a quick impression of her grandmother—five foot nothing, slim and wiry as a girl, white hair that stood out from her head like a halo—before she was wrapped in a warm embrace.

She hugged in return, love rushing through her like a storm tide, and had to blink back tears. Unconditional love, that was what Miz Callie had always offered the shy, uncertain child she’d been, and it was still there for the woman she’d become. Georgia had never been as aware of it as at that moment.

Help me. Her heart murmured a fervent prayer. Help me keep her safe.

Over her grandmother’s shoulder she stared at Matthew Harper, her determination welling. She had come home because the family said Miz Callie was in trouble—that she was acting irrationally and that this man, this outsider, was trying to con her out of what was hers.

He wouldn’t succeed. Not without walking over the prone body of Georgia Lee Bodine, he wouldn’t.

Harper’s face tightened, as if he could read her mind.

Fine. They knew where they stood, it seemed, without another word being spoken. The battle lines were drawn.



So this was the granddaughter from Atlanta. Matt couldn’t help having some preconceived notions about the woman, like it or not, from what he’d seen of Miz Callie and the rest of her family.

He’d already clashed with several members of Miz Callie’s large clan over what she planned to do. The two sons he’d spoken to had had the same goal, though they’d gone about it in different ways. Georgia’s father, the eldest son, had been all Southern charm and hints of powerful influence, while Brett Bodine, the second of the brothers, intimidating in his Coast Guard uniform, had been blustery and outraged. He hadn’t heard from the third brother yet, but no doubt he would.

They hadn’t worried him, although he’d been taken aback that Miz Callie’s family was so determined to keep her from doing what she wanted with what was hers. Still, he knew, just from the way Miz Callie’s face softened when she spoke of Georgia, that this granddaughter had a special place in her heart.

That was undoubtedly why Georgia was here. After failing to influence or intimidate him, the family had sent for her, banking on Miz Callie’s affection to sway the decisions she intended to make.

Miz Callie released her granddaughter. “Matthew, I didn’t mean to ignore you like that. My manners have gone astray ’cause I’m so excited to see this long-lost granddaughter of mine.”

“Miz Callie, you know I was just here at Christmas time.” Georgia stood with her arm loosely around her grandmother’s waist. Staking out her territory, apparently.

Christmas time? Six months ago, and Atlanta wasn’t that far away. If you care so much about your grandmother, Ms. Georgia Lee, why don’t you come to see her more often?

“Nice that you could come for a visit, Ms. Bodine.” He smiled, sure she’d take that exactly the way he intended. “What brings you back to Charleston—business or pleasure?”

“I’m here to spend a little time with my favorite grandmother.”

Miz Callie’s cheeks flushed. “Your only grandmother, as you well know. Georgia, this is Matthew Harper. Matthew, my granddaughter, Georgia Bodine.”

She hadn’t identified him as her attorney, and he wondered if the omission was deliberate. He extended his hand again, his eyebrows lifting. Georgia wouldn’t refuse it this time unless she wanted open warfare in front of her grandmother.

Georgia took his hand, holding it as gingerly as if it were a clump of washed-ashore seaweed. He closed his fingers around hers, holding on a bit longer than she’d probably want.

Small, not much taller than her tiny grandmother, Georgia was all softness—soft curves of her body, soft curls in that long, dark brown hair, a soft curve of the smooth cheeks. Until you got to her eyes, that is. A deep, deep brown, he guessed they could look like velvet, but they were hard as stone when they surveyed him.

Those eyes issued a warning, but that wouldn’t deter him. Fulfilling his client’s wishes was a trust to him.

And on a personal level, he had to succeed at this. He couldn’t keep depending on his partner to pull him through. His daughter’s face flickered in his mind. For Lindsay’s sake, he had to make this work. He was all she had.

“What brought you to Charleston?” Georgia turned his own question back on him. “I can hear from your voice that you’re not a native.”

“Only of Boston,” he said. He doubted she meant the words as a compliment. “I came south to go into partnership with my law-school roommate, Rodney Porter.”

Her eyebrows lifted—she obviously recognized the name of an old Charleston family. She couldn’t know that Matt was as surprised as anyone at the enduring friendship between the Boston street kid and the Charleston aristocrat, a bond that went back to their first year at Yale.

“I think Rodney was in high school with one of my brothers.” Her voice was cool, but he sensed she was giving him a point for that connection.

“I’ll have to ask Rod about that.”

Her brothers weren’t among the family members he’d met, but they were probably all cut from the same cloth—down-home Southern slow-talkers with a touch of innate courtesy, even when they were castigating him as an interfering outsider who should go back where he came from.

Georgia was different, though—moving at a quicker pace, honed to a sharper edge. Her grandmother had called her a big-city businesswoman. That should make her easier to understand than the rest of her family.

“I’m sure Rodney will remember whether it was Adam or Cole.” She smiled. “We all tend to know one another around here.”

And you don’t belong. That was implicit in her tone, although he didn’t think her grandmother caught it.

Georgia wouldn’t get under his skin that easily. “You work in Atlanta, I understand. What do you do there?”

“I’m a marketing director for a software firm.” Something flickered in her eyes as she said the words, so quickly that he couldn’t identify it, but it roused his curiosity. Job problems, maybe?

He’d spun this conversation out as long as possible. Clearly he wouldn’t make any progress on Miz Callie’s problem today.

He shifted his attention to his elderly client. “Why don’t we discuss our business later? After all, your granddaughter has just arrived.” In the nick of time, she probably thought.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you…” she began.

“I’m sure Mr. Harper will be happy to postpone your meeting,” Georgia put in.

Until you’ve had a chance to try and dissuade your grandmother, he thought.

“That’s not a problem.” Better to take the initiative than have it taken from him. “I’ll give you a call.”

“At least take this information with you.” Miz Callie picked up a folder she’d dropped on the bookcase when she’d rushed into the room. “It contains the notes I’ve made on what I want.”

Georgia’s fingers flexed as if she’d like to snatch that folder. “Maybe we could talk about this first—”

“No.” Miz Callie cut her off with what was probably unaccustomed sharpness. “Here you are.” She thrust it into his hands.

He took the folder, encouraged by the sign that Miz Callie was set on what she wanted. Maybe Georgia wouldn’t find this so easy a task.

“Thank you. I’ll go through this and give you a call, then.” He turned to go.

As he did, the older woman slipped her arm around her granddaughter’s waist again, a look of apology on her face.

Miz Callie knew what she wanted, all right. But if there was one person who could talk her out of it, that person was clearly Georgia Bodine.



With Harper gone, Georgia’s tension level went down a few degrees. She hadn’t been able to prevent him from taking away that folder, but whatever business he’d intended hadn’t been accomplished yet. She had breathing space to find out exactly what was going on with her grandmother, and how much of her family’s wild talk was true.

“You must be hungry.” Miz Callie spun and started for the kitchen at her usual trot. “I’ll fix you a sandwich, some potato salad—”

“I don’t need all that.” She followed her grandmother to the kitchen, where African violets bloomed on glass shelves across the windows and a pitcher full of fragrant green basil graced the counter next to the sink.

She closed the refrigerator door her grandmother had opened. “Honestly. I stopped for lunch on the way. Maybe just something to drink. Is there any sweet tea?”

Miz Callie’s smile blossomed. “It’d be a sad summer day there wasn’t sweet tea in this house. You fill up the glasses with ice.”

It was like old times, moving around the kitchen with her grandmother. In moments they’d assembled a tray with glasses, the pitcher of tea, a sprig of mint and a plate of Miz Callie’s famous pecan tassies.

Georgia’s mouth watered at the sight of the rich, sweet tarts. Her favorite. But her grandmother hadn’t known she was coming, had she?

She’d ask, but Miz Callie was already heading out to the deck off the living room, picking up the battered sun hat she wore outside. Carrying the tray, Georgia followed.

She stepped through the sliding glass door and inhaled the salty scent of sea air. The breeze from the water caressed her skin as it tossed the sea oats that grew thickly on the dunes.

“I love it here.” The words came without thought as the endless expanse of sea and sky filled her with a sense of well-being.

Miz Callie gave her characteristic short nod. “Then you understand how I feel.” She sat down, reaching out to take Georgia’s hand and draw her to the chair next to her. “Stay here at the beach house while you’re home, won’t you? I’d love to have you.”

She hadn’t really thought about where she’d stay on this rushed visit, but she could combat whatever Matthew Harper was planning better if she were on the spot.

“I’d love to. I’m sure the folks won’t mind.”

That was a positive step forward. Now if she could get Miz Callie talking about what the family called her odd behavior…

“You want to tell me what happened to your engagement ring?” Her grandmother’s soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

Her gaze flew from Miz Callie to her ring finger. “You noticed.” Her mother hadn’t, when she’d stopped briefly at the house, and that had been a relief.

“Of course I did, the minute I saw you. What happened with you and James, darlin’?”

One part of her wanted to spill the whole sorry mess into her grandmother’s sympathetic ear, the way she would have poured out her problems when she was ten. But she was a grown woman now, and maybe she should act like one.

“It was nothing very dramatic.” Wasn’t it? A shaft of pain went through her. It hadn’t been dramatic only because she lacked the courage to make a scene. “We both realized we’d made a mistake.”

She could still see James’s face—his amazement that she’d object to his stealing her work, jeopardizing her job and lying about it. The irrevocable differences between them had been shown up as if by lightning.

She forced his image from her mind. “Better now than later, right?”

“That’s certain.” Her grandmother’s clear blue eyes said that she knew there was more. “Still, if you want to talk about it…”

“I know where to come.” She pressed Miz Callie’s hand.

“Does your mamma know?”

Georgia shook her head. “I’m not looking forward to that. The day I told her I was engaged was the first time she felt proud of me since I learned to tie my own shoes.”

“Oh, sugar, that’s not true.” Miz Callie looked concerned. “You and your mother don’t always see eye to eye about what your life should be like, but she loves you.”

The point wasn’t that they didn’t love each other. She’d just never managed to be the daughter her mother wanted. “I know. I’ll tell her.”

Just not right away. It was enough that she knew her love life was a disaster. Somebody ought to put up poles and orange tape around her to warn others, the way the turtle ladies did around the loggerhead turtle nests on the beach.

“Enough of my sad story,” she said. “Tell me what’s happening with you.”

Her grandmother’s eyebrows lifted. “Don’t you already know, Georgia Lee? Didn’t the family send for you? Tell you that you had to come talk some sense into your foolish old grandmother?”

It was so near to what the family had said that for a moment she couldn’t speak. She took a deep breath and sent up a wordless prayer.

“They love you. They don’t understand, and they’re worried.”

“If they don’t understand something, they should ask me instead of jumping to conclusions.” Miz Callie’s voice was as sharp as she’d ever heard it.

Georgia’s heart sank. She was used to her father and uncles overreacting to things. But for Miz Callie to take offense—the chasm between them must be bad.

“I’m asking, Miz Callie. They’re saying you’re giving away things from the Charleston house. That you brought a derelict home for dinner. That you’re talking about living here in the cottage year-round all by yourself. Don’t you understand how that worries them? You’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Exactly.” Miz Callie leaned back, tipping her battered straw sun hat forward. “I’m seventy-five years old, Georgia Lee, and I’ve spent my whole life doing exactly what other people think I should. I decided it was high time I tried living the way I feel I should.”

For a moment Georgia couldn’t speak again. Miz Callie was the rock in their lives—the one unchanging point. To think that she’d been dissatisfied all that time…She couldn’t get her mind around it.

“But you and Grandfather always seemed so happy together.”

“Darlin’, of course we were happy. I purely loved Richmond Bodine to distraction.” Miz Callie’s smile eased the tension that was tying Georgia in knots. “I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about society in general. You can’t imagine how often I wanted to do somethin’ odd, just to shake everyone up.”

That feeling she did get. “I always wanted to walk into dancing class in jeans, just to see what would happen.”

Laughing, her grandmother took her hand again. “So we’re more alike than you thought.”

“I’m honored,” she said. “But, Miz Callie, bringing a homeless person back to the house—that could be dangerous.”

“That poor old man.” Her face crinkled in sorrow. “Georgia Lee, that man fought bravely for his country in World War II, and there he was living on the street. I declare, it made my blood boil. Yes, I brought him home, but I called Lola Wentworth—you remember Lola. Her mother, Alma Sue, was a great friend of mine—and she came over and met us. We gave that poor old soul a good meal, and then Lola was able to get him into a decent living situation.”

Georgia untangled the digressions into Lola’s heritage and realized that the woman must be in social work of some kind. It sounded as if Miz Callie’s actions, if unusual, had at least been sensible.

“Did you tell all this to my daddy?”

“I did not.” Miz Callie’s lips pressed together in a firm line. “He never asked, just started lecturing me as if I were a child.”

Her head began to throb. If she’d been hauled home from Atlanta just because her parents and grandmother couldn’t sit down and talk things through…

It couldn’t be that simple. They hadn’t even touched on Miz Callie’s move to the cottage, or the rumors of her plans for the property she owned on remote, uninhabited Jones Island, just up the coast.

Or, most of all, how Matthew Harper fit into this.




Chapter Two


Before Georgia could open her mouth to get in her next question, she heard quick, light footsteps on the stairs that led up to the deck from the beach.

“Miz Callie, I found a whelk. Wait ’til you see.” A young girl reached the top of the stairs, saw Georgia and stopped. Her heart-shaped face, lit with pleasure, closed down in an instant, turning into a polite, self-contained blank.

The girl reminded Georgia of herself as a child, running to Miz Callie with some treasure. But would she have shut down like that at the sight of a stranger? It was oddly disturbing.

“Lindsay, darlin’, how nice. Come here and let me see.” Miz Callie held out her hand to the child as she would to coax a shy kitten closer.

The little girl—seven or eight, maybe—shook her head, her blond ponytail flying, blue eyes guarded. “I’ll come back later.”

“No, no, I want you to meet my granddaughter, Georgia Lee. Why, when she was your age, I believe she loved the beach just as much as you do. Georgia, this is Lindsay.”

“Hi, Lindsay.” Some neighbor child, she supposed. “I’d love to see your shell, too.”

“Come on, sugar.” Miz Callie’s tender words had the desired effect, and the child crossed the deck to put her treasure in Miz Callie’s cupped hands. “It is a whelk. What a nice one—there’s not a chip on it.”

Georgia blinked, as if to clear her vision. For a moment she’d seen herself, her dark head bent close to Miz Callie’s white one, both of them enraptured at what her grandmother would have called one of God’s small treasures.

Only when the shell had been admired thoroughly did Miz Callie glance at Georgia again. “Georgia Lee, will you bring out a glass of lemonade for Lindsay?”

She started to rise, but the child shook her head. “No, thank you, Miz Callie. I better go.”

Miz Callie’s arm encircled the girl’s waist. “At least you can have a pecan tassie before you go. I know they’re your favorite.”

So her grandmother hadn’t known she was coming after all. The tassies were for Lindsay.

She smiled at the girl. “Do you live near here, Lindsay?”

Lindsay, faced with a direct question from a stranger, turned mute. Face solemn, she pointed toward the next house down the beach, separated from Miz Callie’s by a stretch of sea oats and stunted palmettos.

“We’ve been neighbors for a couple of months now,” Miz Callie said. “Didn’t I say? Lindsay is Matthew Harper’s daughter.”

Georgia’s assumptions lifted, swirled around as if in a kaleidoscope and settled in a new pattern. Matt Harper wasn’t just a strange attorney picked at random from the phone directory. He was a next-door neighbor, and his daughter was welcomed as warmly as if she were a grandchild, with a plate of her favorite cookies. He was far more entrenched than anyone had seen fit to tell her.



Matt welcomed the breeze off the ocean, even when it ruffled the papers he’d been working on at the table on the deck. He leaned back, frowning.

After looking through her notes, he understood what Mrs. Bodine wanted, but it would be more complicated than she probably suspected. He’d have to deal with a tangle of county, federal and state regulations, many no doubt conflicting.

And that wasn’t even counting the opposition of her family. How far were they willing to go to stop her?

He put the folder on the glass table top and weighted it down with a piece of driftwood Lindsay had brought from the beach. He’d start work on the project, and he’d fight it through for Miz Callie. But he’d like to be sure she wouldn’t call it off after a talk with Georgia.

Standing, he scanned the beach for Lindsay, not seeing her. She was responsible about staying within the boundaries they’d set up together, which meant that if she wasn’t on the beach, she’d gone over to the Bodine house.

He trotted down the steps. He should have mentioned to Lindsay that Mrs. Bodine had a guest. Now he’d have to go over there and retrieve her under Georgia’s cool gaze.

The woman had gotten under his skin, looking at him as if he were a con man out to steal a little old lady’s treasure. Couldn’t the Bodine clan understand that this was all Miz Callie’s idea? If he didn’t do the work for her, she’d find some other attorney who would.

He couldn’t afford that. He didn’t intend to sponge off Rodney any longer, accepting the clients Rod managed to persuade to use his new colleague. He needed to bring in business of his own, and Miz Callie’s project was the first opportunity he’d had since he and Lindsay moved here.

His steps quickened across the hard-packed sand. He’d taken the chance that this move would be good for Lindsay, a fresh start for both of them. Heaven knew they needed that.

The expression caught him off guard. Once he’d have been praying about this. Once he’d thought the faith Jennifer had introduced him to was strong. But when she died, he’d recognized it for what it was. Secondhand. Nowhere near strong enough to handle a blow like that.

He heard the voices as he reached the stairs to Miz Callie’s deck. Three of them: two soft with their Southern drawl, and then his daughter’s light, quick counterpoint.

She was talking. It was a sign of how desperate he was about Lindsay’s unremitting grief that he didn’t care who she was talking to, as long as she talked. At first, after Jennifer’s death, the two of them had gone days without saying anything, until he’d realized that he had to rouse himself from the stupor of grief and make an effort for Lindsay’s sake.

He went slowly up the steps, hearing the conversation interspersed with gentle female laughter.

“So my brother and I both went under the waves after the shell he’d dropped, but I was the one who came up with it,” Georgia said as he reached the top. “Not that I’m suggesting you should do that.”

“No, don’t, please,” he said.

All three of them turned to look at him, but Miz Callie’s was the only face that relaxed into a smile. “Matthew, I thought you’d be coming along about now. Come and have some sweet tea.”

He shook his head, crossing the deck to them. There was an empty basket in the center of the table, with shells arrayed around it. His daughter was bent over two shells she seemed to be comparing, ignoring him.

“Lindsay and I need to start some dinner.”

“At least take a minute to look at our shell collection. Georgia Lee and I were teachin’ Lindsay the names of the different shells.”

“Not I,” Georgia protested, shoving back from the table. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten most of what you taught me.”

“You’ll have to take a refresher course, won’t you?” he said, planting his hands on the back of his daughter’s chair.

“How are you at naming the shells of the Carolina coast?” Every time Georgia looked at him, she had a challenge in her eyes.

“Worse than you,” he said promptly. “You may have forgotten, but I never knew.” He patted Lindsay’s shoulder. “Come on, Lindsay. It’s time we went home.”

“Just a minute. I have to line all the shells up before I go.”

He tensed, hating the habit Lindsay had developed, this need to have everything lined up just so. The child psychologist he’d consulted said to go along with it, that when Lindsay’s grief didn’t require her to seek control in that way, she’d lose interest. But sometimes he wanted to grab her hands and stop her.

A desperation that was too familiar went through him. He’d never known family before Jennifer. Bouncing from one foster home to another hadn’t prepared him to be a good father. How could he do this without her?

“How about taking some of these pecan tassies along home for your dessert?” Miz Callie got to her feet, grasping the plate of cookies. “I’ll wrap them up for you.” She’d headed into the house before he could refuse.

“Don’t bother arguing,” Georgia said, apparently interpreting his expression. “You can never defeat my grandmother’s hospitality. Bodines are noted for being stubborn.”

“I’ve noticed.” Something sparked between them on the exchange—maybe an understanding on both their parts that there was a double meaning to everything they said.

She was an interesting woman. If she weren’t so determined to believe that he was some sort of legal ogre, he might enjoy getting to know her.

He realized he was looking at her left hand, pressed against the edge of the table. The white band where a ring used to be stood out like an advertisement.

He hadn’t given up wearing his wedding ring. Rodney kept pushing him to get into the dating scene, and putting the ring away was the first step. He wasn’t ready to do that. What was the point? There’d never be another Jennifer. A man didn’t get that lucky more than once in a lifetime.

The silence had stretched on too long, but surely it was as much Georgia’s responsibility as his to break it. He tapped Lindsay’s shoulder. “Come on, Lindsay. We’ll order in pizza tonight, okay?”

For a moment he thought she’d ignore him, but then Miz Callie came out with the cookies.

“Here you are.” She handed the paper plate to Lindsay. “You carry those home and have one for dessert after your supper, y’heah?”

Lindsay got up promptly, good manners surfacing. “I will. Thank you, Miz Callie.” She glanced at Georgia, but didn’t repeat her thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“That’ll be fine, sugar.” Miz Callie touched the blond ponytail lightly.

Georgia rose. “I’ll walk down with you. I need to get something from my car.”

Miz Callie sent her a glance that said she didn’t believe a word, but she didn’t attempt to deter her. He didn’t believe it, either. Georgia had something she wanted to say to him in private.

He followed her down the steps. Lindsay hurried ahead of him along the sand, her gaze fixed on a flight of pelicans overhead. He’d be amazed if those cookies reached home in one piece.

He took a few steps away from the stairs, Georgia moving next to him.

“I didn’t realize you lived so close.” Georgia’s gaze was fixed on his rental. “The Fosters owned that house when I was little. They had five children.”

“There are a few kids in the neighborhood now.” He watched Lindsay stop and stare at the pelicans as they swooped close to the water. “But Lindsay isn’t getting acquainted as easily as I’d hoped. Your grandmother is the only person she’s really gotten to know.”

“Miz Callie is worth as much as a gaggle of kids any day.”

“That sounds like personal experience speaking.” Maybe meeting his daughter had softened her attitude toward him.

But she looked at Lindsay, not him. “I was pretty shy as a kid. With my grandmother, there was no pressure. I could play with the other kids if I wanted to, but she never objected to my sitting in the swing with a book, or helping her make cookies in the kitchen.”

“Sounds ideal.” He spoke lightly, but he thought Georgia had revealed a lot about herself in those few words. Again he had a glimpse of someone he might enjoy getting to know, if not for the fact that she saw him as the enemy.

“I suppose that’s how my grandmother came to hire you,” Georgia said. “Getting to know you through Lindsay.”

“I suppose.” He kept it noncommittal. The truce was over already, it seemed.

“Havers and Martin have been the family’s attorneys for a couple of generations. It seems a little odd that she came to you instead.”

“Does it?” The spark of anger in her eyes amused him.

Her jaw tightened. “I don’t believe I heard exactly what it is you’re doing for my grandmother.”

“You don’t really expect me to violate my client’s confidence, do you, Ms. Bodine?”

She stopped, her fists clenching, anger out in the open now. “No.” She bit off the word. “I don’t expect anything from you, Mr. Harper.”

She spun and walked quickly back toward the beach house.



Georgia slung her suitcase on the twin bed in the little room under the eaves that had always been hers, the movement edged with the antagonism Matthew Harper had brought out—a quality she hadn’t even known she possessed. She’d spent a lifetime unable to confront people, even her own mother. Especially her own mother.

She caught sight of the pale band on her finger in her peripheral vision as she put T-shirts in a drawer. She still had to break that news to Mamma.

Oddly enough, she hadn’t had any trouble making her anger clear to Matthew Harper, maybe because she didn’t care what he thought of her. Or maybe her love for Miz Callie overrode every other instinct.

Frowning, she shoved the drawer closed. Whatever Matt had in mind, he wouldn’t be easily deterred. She’d seen that kind of type A personality in action before. In a way, Matt reminded her of James, although he didn’t have her former fiancé’s charm. James’s smile could make you think he cherished you above all others. The only time it had failed to work on her was when she’d walked out of the office, knowing things were over.

Anyway, this was about Matt, not James. The only time she’d seen any softening in Matt was when he looked at his daughter, and even then his gaze was more worried than loving.

No, she wouldn’t be able to dissuade him. She had to find out what Miz Callie had him doing for her before she could learn if her family’s suspicions were on target.

She hadn’t gotten anywhere with her grandmother over chicken salad and Miz Callie’s feather-light biscuits. Dinner had been an elaborate game, with her grandmother determined not to talk about her plans and Georgia equally determined not to talk about her breakup.

Maybe now they could relax and get things out into the open. She took a last look around the room, windows open to the evening breeze, and then hurried down the stairs.

Miz Callie was on the deck, a citronella candle burning next to her to ward off the bugs. She looked up with a smile as Georgia came out.

“All done unpacking? Did you speak to your mamma and daddy?”

She nodded, not eager to get into what her parents had to say. They’d taken turns talking, Mamma on the extension, so that it had been like being caught between two soloists, both vying desperately to be heard.

“They’re fine,” she said, knowing Miz Callie wouldn’t believe that. She touched the shells on the glass table, still there from her grandmother’s impromptu lesson with Lindsay. “Do you want me to put these away?”

“I want you to relax and enjoy.” Miz Callie tilted her head back. “Did you ever see so many stars?”

Obediently she leaned back in the chair, staring heavenward, her mind still scrambling for the right way to bring up the things that concerned her. After a moment or two, the tension began to seep out of her. How could anyone sit here surveying the darkened sea and the starlit sky and fret? The surf murmured softly, accompanying the rustling of the palmetto fronds and the sea oats.

“I don’t even notice the stars in Atlanta. Too many city lights.”

Miz Callie made a small sound of contentment. “They seem to put us in our places, don’t they? ‘When I look at the heavens which Thou has created, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained, what is man that Thou are mindful of him, or the son of man, that Thou visiteth him?’”

Her grandmother’s gentle voice brought a lump to her throat. “That’s always been one of your favorite psalms, hasn’t it?”

Miz Callie nodded, and the silence grew comfortably between them. Finally she spoke again, eyes still on the night sky. “I am worried about that child.”

The change of subject startled her. “You mean Lindsay?”

“She’s so withdrawn. You must have noticed how she was when she saw I had someone here.”

“She’s probably just shy.” She knew how that felt.

“Grief.” Miz Callie moved slightly, hand reaching out to the glass of sweet tea beside her. “The child’s still grieving her mother’s death.”

So Matt was a widower. She hadn’t been sure, since he still wore a wedding ring, but it had seemed implicit in the interactions with his daughter.

“Maybe he was wrong to take her away from everything that was familiar to her, just for the sake of his career.”

Miz Callie turned to look at her in the dim light. “Georgia Lee, you don’t know a thing about it, so don’t you go judging him.”

When Miz Callie spoke in that tone, an apology was in order. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

Her grandmother’s expression eased. “I suspect he felt it was time for a fresh start. Sometimes that happens.”

“Sometimes a fresh start is forced on you.” What was she going to do after this interlude? Go back to Atlanta and try to find another job?

“And sometimes you just know it’s the right time.”

Something in her grandmother’s tone caught her attention. “Is that why you want to move to Sullivan’s Island permanently? Because you want a fresh start?”

Miz Callie waved her arm. “Who wouldn’t want to live here, simply, instead of being enslaved to a lot of things?” She said the word with emphasis.

“So that’s why you’ve been giving stuff away at the Charleston house.” A frightening thought struck her. “Miz Callie, you’re not dying, are you?”

For a moment her grandmother stared at her. Then her laugh rang out. She chuckled for several moments, shaking her head. “Oh, child, how you do think. We’re all of us dying, some of us sooner than later, but no, there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Then why…”

Her grandmother sighed, apparently at Georgia’s persistence. “Do you remember Mary Lyn Daniels?”

Georgia’s mind scrambled among her grandmother’s friends and came up with an image. “Yes, I think so. She’s the one you always say has been your friend since the cradle, isn’t she?”

“Was,” Miz Callie said. “She passed away this winter.”

“I’m sorry.” She clasped her grandmother’s hand, aware of the fragility of fine bones covered thinly by soft skin. She should have known about that. She would have, if she’d come back more often. “Did Mary Lyn’s death—is that what has you thinking of making so many changes?”

Her grandmother smiled faintly. “This isn’t just about grieving my friend, darlin’. At my age, I’ve learned how to do that. I know I’m going to see them again.”

“What then?” She leaned toward her, intent on getting answers. “There must be some reason why you feel such a need to change things.”

Miz Callie stared out at the waves. “I’d go and sit with Mary Lyn, most afternoons. Seemed like all she wanted to do was talk about the old days, when we were children here on the island. Her memory of those times was clearer than what happened yesterday.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She choked up at the thought of Miz Callie sitting day after day with her dying friend. Small wonder if it made her reflect on her own mortality.

“It was good to sit there with her and remember those years.” Miz Callie’s tone was soft, far away. “But sometimes she’d start in on things she regretted. Old hurts never mended. Relationships lost.” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to be like that at the end. And I’m thinking maybe God used Mary Lyn to show me it’s time to right old wrongs and make my peace with life.”

“Miz Callie, I don’t believe you ever did anything that needs righting.” She hadn’t been ready for a conversation about life and death tonight, and she was swimming out of her depth. “If that’s why you want to move here to the island full-time, I can understand, but I know there’s more. That doesn’t explain you hiring an attorney nobody knows to handle business no one knows about.”

Miz Callie sighed, suddenly looking her age and more. Then she leaned over to put her hand on Georgia’s.

Georgia clung to that grip: the hand she’d always held, the one that had reassured her as a child. Now it felt cool and delicate in hers.

“All right, Georgia Lee. I know you’re worrying about me. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow what?” she asked, confused.

“Matt is comin’ tomorrow to meet with me. You can sit in with us. I’ll explain everything then.”

“But, Miz Callie…” She didn’t want to wait. And she certainly didn’t want to hear about it—whatever it was—in front of Matt.

“Tomorrow.” Her grandmother’s voice was tired but firm. “I’m not goin’ over it twice, sugar, and that’s that. You’ll hear all about it then.”

Georgia clamped her lips shut on an argument. Tomorrow. She’d have to be content with that.




Chapter Three


Georgia sat in line for the drawbridge leading back onto Sullivan’s Island, glancing at her watch as if that would help. She’d be late for the meeting with Matt if she didn’t get moving, and she didn’t want Miz Callie to say anything to him that she wasn’t there to hear.

It was a good thing Miz Callie had reminded her to bring the cooler for the groceries. The closest supermarket was in Mount Pleasant, across the Cooper River from Charleston proper, across the Intracoastal Waterway from Sullivan’s Island. Not far, but not just around the corner, either, so islanders tended to stock up when they went.

At least once she got to the house, the secrecy would be over. Miz Callie would come clean with her so that she could resolve this situation, whatever it was, and get back to her own life, whatever was left of it.

A tall sailboat moved serenely past, and the bridge lowered into place. With a sigh of relief, she rumbled across the bridge and back onto the island. Right, then left, then left again, and she pulled up to the house.

She went up the stairs slowly, laden down by the many bags of groceries she was attempting to take in one trip. She fumbled with the door, staggered in and found that Matt was already there.

He rose, coming quickly to help her with the bags, his dress shirt and dark tie reinforcing the fact that this was a business visit and not a neighborly call.

“Where do you want these?” He followed her into the kitchen.

She nodded toward the counter. “Let me put things in the refrigerator, and then I’ll join you.” She waited for an argument from him, but none came.

“Good. I think you should be in on this.”

He sounded sincere enough. Or maybe he was just accepting what he couldn’t change. She slid the milk and a bag of perishables onto the shelves and closed the fridge. Then she followed Matt into the living room.

Papers were spread across the round table where she and her girl cousins used to play with their paper dolls. She sat down in the wicker chair opposite Miz Callie.

Now that the moment had come, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to find out what this was all about. She glanced at Matt, but he wore his stolid lawyer’s expression that didn’t give anything away.

Miz Callie sat very straight in her rocker, hands folded in her lap. “I’ve made a decision about the Jones Island property. I’m afraid it won’t be popular with the family, but my mind is made up, and there’s no point in arguing about it.”

“I’m not going to argue, Miz Callie.” The piece of property on the uninhabited small barrier island had come down to Miz Callie through her side of the family. It was hers to do what she liked with. Surely she realized nobody would contest that.

“Good.” Her grandmother gave a short nod. She sounded very much in control, but Georgia could see her hands were clasped tightly to keep them from trembling. “Matthew is going to turn the Jones Island land into a nature preserve to protect it from ever being developed.”

Georgia blinked. Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this, not after all the secrecy. “Do you mean you’re turning it over to the state?”

“Nothing so simple,” Matt said. “Miz Callie wants the land in a private trust, so that she controls what’s done there. That makes it considerably more difficult to navigate all the various governmental regulations.”

“You’re doing fine.” Miz Callie waved away the issue. “It’ll be exactly the way I want it.”

This was a tempest in a teapot, as far as she could tell. “Miz Callie, whatever has all the secrecy been about? You must know that no one in the family will object to turning the land into a nature preserve.”

“Yes, child, I know that.” Miz Callie’s face seemed to tighten, as if the skin were drawing close against the bones. “They won’t object to the preserve. They’ll object to what I’m going to call it.”

“Call it?” Georgia echoed. This was like swimming in a fog.

Her grandmother continued to clasp her hands tightly together. “It’s to be named the Edward Austin Bodine Memorial Preserve.”

For a moment the name didn’t register. Then memories filtered through—of pictures quickly flipped past in the family album, of questions unanswered, of conversations broken off when a child entered the room.

“You mean Great-uncle Ned? Grandfather’s older brother? The one who—” She stopped, not sure how much of what she thought she knew was true and how much was a child’s imagining.

“They said he was a coward. They said he ran away rather than defend his country in the war.” Her grandmother’s cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t true. It couldn’t have been.”

Georgia caught the confusion in Matt’s eyes. “The Second World War, she means. Supposedly Ned Bodine disappeared instead of enlisting when he was old enough to fight.” She tried to think this through, but her instinctive reaction was strong. “Miz Callie, you must know it’s not only the family who will be upset about this idea. Other folks have long memories, too. Why don’t you dedicate it to Grandfather?”

“To Ned.” Her voice was firm. “He’s been the family secret for too long.”

“Will people really be upset after all this time?” Matt asked. “Would anyone even remember?”

The fact that Matt could ask the question showed how far he had to go in understanding his adopted home.

“They remember. Charleston society is like one big family with lots of branches. Everyone knows everyone else’s heritage nearly as well as they know their own.” She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging a little, as if that would clear her thoughts. “And it’s not just that. This is a military town, always has been. Bodines have served proudly.” Her mind flickered to her brothers. “Miz Callie, please rethink this.”

Her grandmother shook her head firmly. Tears shone in her eyes.

Georgia’s heart clenched. Miz Callie was the rock of the family. She didn’t cry. She didn’t show weakness. And she certainly didn’t do things that would put half the county in an uproar.

Except…now she did.

She reached across to grasp her grandmother’s trembling hands. “It’s going to cause a lot of hard feelings, you know.”

Miz Callie clutched her hand, her gaze seeking Georgia’s face. “Not if it’s proved that he didn’t run away.”

“After all this time? Miz Callie, if people have believed that all these years, surely it must be true. I know you were fond of him, but—”

“I knew him.” The words came out firmly. “He wasn’t a coward, whatever people say.”

“Please, think about what will happen if you do this.” Her grandmother was set on a course that would hurt her immeasurably. “Even if you’re right, how can you prove it after all these years?”

“Maybe I can’t, not alone.” Her fingers tightened on Georgia’s. “I want you to help me.”

“Me?” The word came out in an uncertain squeak.

“I can’t die without making this right. I should have done it long ago.”

The echo of something lost reverberated in her words, twisting Georgia’s heart. So this was the wrong she’d talked about—the one that needed righting.

“Miz Callie, you know I’d do anything for you. But I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Matthew will help you. The two of you can do it. You have to.” Her voice didn’t waver, but a tear spilled down her cheek.

Georgia’s throat tightened as panic swept through her. How? The one thing her grandmother asked of her, and she couldn’t even think where to begin.

She turned to Matt and saw the reluctance in his eyes. He was no more eager to take this on than she was, even though he didn’t understand the situation the way she did.

As for the family—her stomach clenched at the thought of explaining this to them. It made her want to scurry back to Atlanta until the storm was over.

But she couldn’t, because the bottom line was, if she couldn’t talk Miz Callie out of this, she also couldn’t leave her to face the consequences alone.

“All right.” She patted her grandmother’s hand. “You win. I’ll do my best.”

As to whether that would be good enough—well, she seriously doubted it.



Georgia tiptoed out onto the deck when the sun was still low over the ocean, her running shoes in her hands. Miz Callie was sleeping, and she didn’t want to disturb her, but an early morning run was just what she needed to clear her mind.

She tugged the laces tight. After a night of trying to think of a good way to explain the situation to her parents, she didn’t have an answer. Too bad she wasn’t more like her cousin Amanda, the older of Uncle Brett’s and Aunt Julia’s twins. Amanda never let anyone stand in her way when she was convinced she was right. Of course, that led to the kind of loud arguments that would have Georgia hiding under the bed, but at least Amanda fought for what she wanted.

Well, she wasn’t like Amanda and never would be. And their grandmother wasn’t turning to Amanda right now. She was turning to Georgia, and it was up to her to do the right thing for Miz Callie.

Once she knew what that was, anyway. She trotted down the stairs and stopped abruptly, halfway down. “Adam!”

Her oldest brother held out his arms when he saw her, and she catapulted into them for a hug that lifted her off her feet.

“Hey, Little Bit, how are you?”

“Don’t call me that,” she said automatically, though she doubted she’d ever get him to stop, since he’d been teasing her with that since their parents brought her home from the hospital.

“Pardon me, Ms. Georgia Lee.” He set her down, grinning. “I just have trouble believing you’re all grown up now, and engaged to boot.”

She focused on his chest, clad in a Coast Guard Academy T-shirt, instead of his face. She couldn’t fool Adam. “That last part’s not so true anymore.”

“Really?”

She nodded, miserably aware that the news could now be spread to her huge extended family in a matter of minutes. “Listen, Adam, you can’t tell anybody the engagement’s over. I didn’t tell Mamma yet.”

He whistled softly. “Okay. Nobody’s hearin’ it from me, cross my heart. But you probably ought to tell her soon.”

“I know. But you know how she’ll be, denied the prospect of a wedding. I don’t suppose you’d care to get married instead.” She peeped up at his face, ready for his grin.

“Not me,” he said quickly. “This old boy is not putting his head into a noose, thank you very much.”

She shook her head with mock sorrow. “What are you doing over here this early? On your way to or from the station?”

Adam, like his father and many other family members, had gone into the Coast Guard almost automatically. That was what Bodines did. He seemed to thrive on the life. His lean, craggy face lit up whenever anyone gave him a chance to talk about the service.

“I’m on duty in an hour, but I figured I’d catch you jogging and get in a private chat.” He glanced toward the cottage. “How’s Miz Callie?”

“Fine. Feisty as ever.”

“You find out what’s going on with her yet?”

She hesitated. The last thing Miz Callie had said to her the previous evening was a plea to keep this quiet, at least for a while, from the family. She’d tell them when she was ready. And maybe, just maybe, Georgia could get her to forget the whole naming thing before anyone exploded.

“Here’s the thing.” It looked as if she could practice on Adam, who was bound to be more receptive than the older generation. “We talked a little, and honestly, she seems to have logical reasons for most of the things that have the parents so upset.”

“Stands to reason Daddy and Uncle Brett and Uncle Harrison would overreact. They always do egg each other on.”

Like you and Cole. Their middle sibling piloted a Coast Guard jet in Florida, intercepting drug runners and potential terrorists. It was dangerous, much as Daddy played that down.

“Still.” His lean face was troubled. “There’s been talk about the property over on Jones Island. You probably don’t know, being up to Atlanta so much, but prices on the barrier islands have skyrocketed lately. Jones Island won’t be uninhabited much longer.”

She shrugged, since there was nothing she could safely say on that subject. “That land does belong to Miz Callie, after all. Came down in her family, not Granddad’s, not that it makes much difference.”

“Well, sure, I don’t care what she does with it. I just don’t want to see some shady lawyer cheating her over it, if she’s decided to sell.”

“We don’t know that he’s shady.” An image of Matt’s face formed in her mind. Tough, workaholic, stubborn and inexorable as the tide. But shady? Even on short acquaintance, she found she doubted that.

“We don’t know what she’s doing.” Adam sounded frustrated. “That’s what’s driving everyone crazy. Haven’t you found out anything yet?”

“I’ve barely gotten settled in,” she reminded him. “And she is talking to me. If everyone would just give us a little time, I’m sure things will settle down.” She hoped.

He slung his arm around her shoulders and hugged her, as if he heard the uncertainty that clung to her. “Sorry, Little Bit. I didn’t mean to fuss at you. But the folks…”

“Well, since you won’t get married to rescue me from their disapproval, could you at least convince them I need a little time? Get them to stop calling me for a progress report every few hours.”

“Guess I can do that much for you.” He planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll try to head them off, but sooner or later—”

“I know. But Miz Callie’s got her back up. I’d just as soon we not start a family fight over this.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, sugar.” He tugged at her ponytail. “I’d better get going. It’s good to have you here, you know, instead of way up in Atlanta.”

“It’s good to see you.” A wave of love for her big brother swept over her. She threw her arms around him in a hug, then stepped back, feeling better.

He grinned, winking at her. “Later.” He went off at an easy lope.

She turned, looking out at the beach. Apparently she wasn’t the only person who liked an early morning run. Matt Harper jogged slowly past the house, his gaze fixed on her as if wondering whom she’d been talking to—and why.



It was late afternoon after a frustrating workday when Matt crossed the sand to where Miz Callie sat. The tide was out, and the beach, glistening and empty, invited him. It had been a relief to change out of office clothes and step outside to this.

“Miz Callie.” He nodded to his daughter, who was in the surf with Georgia. “I hope Lindsay’s not being a pest.”

“Not at all.” She tilted the brim of her straw sun hat back to look at him. “Georgia needed someone to play with, and your housekeeper had some laundry to finish up.”

“Georgia might not like hearing you refer to her as if she were about eight,” he said, and Miz Callie chuckled.

Lindsay was batting a red and white-striped beach ball to Georgia. Knee-deep in the water, she looked more relaxed and open than he’d seen her in months.

“They’ve been having a good time.” Miz Callie was watching them, too, and her face curved with a reminiscent smile. “It’s like old times, having Georgia here.”

“It must have been a circus when all your grandchildren were young.”

“My land, yes.” Her smile broadened. “What one of them didn’t think of, the others did. Seems like only yesterday they were all children, romping on the beach, and now they’re grown up, with lives of their own.”

And too busy to spend time with their grandmother? He wondered if that were the case. If so, she probably wouldn’t say. It would seem disloyal to her.

“At least you have Georgia back for a while.”

Until he and Georgia figured out what to do about the memory of Ned Bodine. He’d hoped to have the chance to start a preliminary search today, but Rod had called him in to help with another client. He and Georgia really needed to sit down and talk through how they were going to approach this, little though she might want to work with him.

“Why don’t you get into the game? I’m sure Lindsay would like that.”

“Good idea.” And maybe he could get a moment or two with Georgia to make some plans. Pulling off his T-shirt, he ran across the wet sand to the water.

Georgia threw the beach ball to Lindsay, but the breeze took it, lifting it out of her reach. He grabbed it.

Lindsay charged toward him, animated. “Me—throw it to me!”

He tossed the beach ball to her, and she threw it to Georgia. Georgia hesitated a moment, clutching the ball. Her damp hair curled around her face, and sunlight glinted off her skin.

“Maybe your dad wants to take over the game now,” she suggested.

“No, no!” Lindsay jumped up and down in the water. “Don’t quit now, Georgia.”

“Don’t quit now, Georgia,” he echoed. He looked at her with a challenge in his gaze. She surely wouldn’t stop playing with his child just because he was there.

“All right.” Her smile lit. “We have three, so we can play Monkey in the Middle. My brothers always made me be the monkey first, because I was the smallest. So that’s you, Lindsay.”

“I can jump high.” She bounced, facing Georgia and waving her arms.

“Here goes.” Georgia didn’t make it easy for Lindsay, tossing it well over her head on the first throw. But a couple of tosses later, she threw the ball a little low, and Lindsay grabbed it.

“You’re the monkey,” she said, giggling.

For a moment his eyes misted. How long had it been since he’d heard that giggle? How long since he and Lindsay had really played together?

They batted the ball back and forth, keeping it away from Georgia even though she lunged for it as if she were a kid again. When she almost succeeded, he made a dive and grabbed it away just as her fingers touched it.

“No fair.” She splashed him. “My brothers always did that, too, because they’re taller than I am.”

“You’re mad because Lindsay and I are so good at this game.” He tossed it to his daughter, loving the sound of her laugh, wondering again why he hadn’t thought of doing something as simple as this.

Jennifer had always taken the initiative with Lindsay, planning their family time with meticulous care, perhaps because it was so limited. He’d put all of his energy into his career, determined to take good care of them.

But he hadn’t been able to protect Jennifer from the cancer that stole her away, and now he had to find a way of doing all the things she’d have done with Lindsay.

Maybe because he was distracted, he tossed the ball too low, and Georgia grabbed it. She held it aloft triumphantly. “Lindsay and I are going to get you now.”

He moved to the middle, and she tossed the ball to his daughter. Biding his time, he waited until Georgia got a little too confident, then leaped for the ball.

He started to pull it down when Georgia jumped, batting at the ball. She almost got it, lost her footing and went splashing down into the water.

He caught her arm and pulled her to her feet. She surfaced laughing, water streaming down her face, her head a riot of curls. He took hold of her other arm to steady her until she got her balance.

Her gaze met his, the brown eyes just as velvety as he’d imagined they might be. She seemed to glow with life and vitality. Her gaze grew wider, more vulnerable, and for an instant the world compressed into the sunlight, the sea and Georgia.

“Who was he?” The question came out before his brain was in gear. “The man you were hugging the other morning. Your fiancé?”

“My brother. Adam.” She didn’t seem to question his right to know. “How did you know about my fiancé?”

In answer he held up her left hand, water sheeting off it. The white line was growing fainter after several days at the shore, but it was still visible.

“Your grandmother mentioned you were engaged but the ring isn’t there now.”

She nodded. “I don’t expect to be seeing him here. Or anywhere.”

Good. That was what he wanted to say. But why should it make any difference to him who she hugged?

He fought to focus on business. “We need to get together to make some plans.” He said the words quietly, glancing toward Miz Callie. “Soon.”

Georgia’s face tightened a little, but she nodded. “Right. I can come over this evening if you want. After Lindsay goes to bed.”

He almost asked her to come to the office, but that would seem foolish when they were neighbors. He couldn’t let his actions be affected by…well, by the attraction that had blindsided him, like a wave crashing into him when he wasn’t looking. Attraction to Georgia was a mistake, best ignored.

“Around eight-thirty, then.”

Lindsay chose that moment to hurl the ball at them with all her might, cutting off anything else he might have said.

He turned away. Georgia did, too. But he sensed that she, too, was aware that things had shifted between them in some incalculable way.




Chapter Four


Someone who hadn’t grown up here might find it scary to be walking on the beach at night. Not Georgia. She used a shielded flashlight through the dunes, but when she reached the flat expanse of sand, she switched it off. The nearly full moon traced a silvery path across the waves, so distinct that when she was a child, she’d imagined that if only she were brave enough, she could walk on it all the way to the horizon and beyond.

She knew better now, but that didn’t detract from the beauty. Miz Callie’s favorite psalm surfaced in her mind, like a dolphin breaking through the waves.

When I look at the Heavens, which Thou hast created, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained…

She tilted her head back to study the sweep of the stars. She felt small in the face of that vastness. Insignificant. And wasn’t that what the psalm went on to say?

What is man, that Thou art mindful of him, or the son of man, that Thou visiteth him? Yet Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and crowned him with glory and honor.

The words created a space of peace in her heart, like the walk on the beach. The distance between Miz Callie’s house and Matt’s place gave her time to think about what she would say to him. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to think of much except those moments in the surf earlier.

Where had that instant wave of attraction come from? It was crazy. Neither of them wanted that. What was she supposed to do now—pretend it hadn’t happened?

The night, in its stillness, didn’t provide an answer, but the murmur of the surf soothed away the edge of her anxiety. She was worrying over nothing. Matt would be as eager to forget it as she was.

Crossing the dunes to Matt’s deck, she slipped on the shoes she’d been carrying and walked up the steps to find him waiting for her.

“I saw you coming down the beach.” He gestured to a chair, waited until she took it, and sat down next to her.

She perched on the edge of the chair, too aware of his nearness to relax.

Even in the dim light, she could see his eyebrows lift. “You look as if you’re ready to take flight. Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all.” If she couldn’t convince herself, at least she could try convincing him. “Is Lindsay asleep?”

“She conks out pretty quickly. I guess she wears herself out running around on the beach all day.”

“I remember that feeling.”

He’d spend most of his evenings alone, once Lindsay went to bed. That must be lonely.

“Well, to business.” He drained his iced-tea glass and set it on a wide plank of the deck. “We need a plan of action, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” Tension grabbed the back of her neck. “The trouble is—well, truthfully, I don’t see how this can succeed. I’m afraid Miz Callie will end up being hurt if she can’t clear Ned’s name. And if she goes ahead with her plans anyway…” She trailed off.

He rubbed the back of his neck, as if he felt the same stress she did. “Will there really be that much bad feeling after all this time?”

She gave him a pitying look. “You don’t get it, do you? Charleston—old Charleston, anyway—is a close community for all its size. I don’t suppose anyone will start a petition against her plans, although that could happen. But people she’s known all her life will disapprove, even be angry about it.”

“Maybe she figures that won’t bother her.”

“Don’t kid yourself. She may say that she wants to live to please herself, but I know her. She’ll be lost if people turn against her. Lost.”

“You know her better than I do.” He paused, his face a study in line and shadow in the dim light. “But as her attorney, I have to follow her directions.”

She hadn’t known him long, but she sensed instinctively that he wouldn’t back away from his duty to a client. “Any ideas?”

“Miz Callie must have some reason for her belief in Edward Bodine’s innocence. You’re in the best position to find out what that is.”

“I guess so. I tried to find out what she remembers about his leaving, but it’s not much. Just finding Granddad crying because Ned had run away, leaving a note saying he wasn’t coming back, but that’s all she knows. Maybe it was all Granddad knew. After all, he was just a kid then, too.”

“If he left a note saying he was going, there was no question of accident or foul play, apparently.”

She blinked. “That hadn’t even occurred to me. But no, I suppose not. I can try to get her talking more about her memories. There might be something we can follow up on.”

He nodded. “Good. And there have to be records of Edward Bodine somewhere. I’ll start there, see what that tells us.”

“If there’s something else I can do…”

“There is,” he said, so promptly that it seemed he was waiting for the offer. He picked something up from the floor next to his chair, and she realized it was a long legal pad. “I just have too little information to search intelligently. That’s where you come in.”

She should not be annoyed that he was so quick to take charge. She shouldn’t, but she was.

She shoved the feeling down. Her grandmother was important now, not her. “What do you need me to find out?”

“Vital statistics, like birth date, parents’ names, addresses.” He ticked something off on the pad. “And anything you can get from your grandmother about how and when he disappeared. Why did people think he ran away?” His hand tightened into a fist. “It’s all just so amorphous. A story that’s more than sixty years old and not a single fact to support it.”

“It’s about more than facts. There’s family loyalty and trust involved, too.”

“I can’t investigate family loyalty.” His voice had gone dry, his hand tight on the arm of the chair. “Just get me some facts. Surely your grandmother remembers more than she’s told us so far.”

Was that just a normal lawyer’s reaction, his insistence on sticking to the facts? Or did she sense something deeper in his reaction to her comment about families?

“Miz Callie did say she’s started remembering more about that summer. Apparently she’d been talking with a friend from those days, reminiscing.”

“Who is the friend?” His question was quick, his pen poised over the legal pad. “Maybe we can interview him.”

“Her. And we can’t. She died.” She sounded as terse as he did.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He reached across the space between their chairs to touch her hand lightly.

Her skin tingled at his featherlight touch. She shoved her hair back from her face with her other hand, looking up at the stars again. They seemed very far away.

“It’s all right. I’m not personally upset about her death. I mean, I barely remember her. But her passing had a profound effect on my grandmother. That’s what convinced her she has to learn the truth about Ned.”

“I see.” His fingers brushed hers lightly, as if in silent empathy. “One other thing—what about talking to your family about Ned?”

She winced at the thought. “Miz Callie is right to put that off as long as possible.”

“I suppose they wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Pleased?” Her voice rose in spite of herself and she half expected him to pull his hand away, but he didn’t. The warmth of his skin began to radiate through her. “You’ve seen how they reacted already. If they knew this…Trust me, you don’t want to see the Bodines in full crisis mode.”

“I think I could handle it.” He said the words mildly. But then, he wasn’t related to them.

“It would only make matters worse, and my dad’s generation won’t know any more than Miz Callie does.”

“All right. If you say so.” He seemed to become aware that he was still touching her hand. He grasped the legal pad instead. “We’ll work it out, somehow.”

“I hope so.” It was odd, talking to him this way, relying on him when she barely knew him. More than odd, to feel lonely because he was no longer touching her.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, you’ll try to get a bit more information from your grandmother. Do you think there’s anyone else we might talk to about that summer?”

She forced herself to concentrate. “I’ll try to find out.” She rose, and Matt stood with her.

“Thanks.” He looked down at her, his gaze searching her face.

She sucked in a breath. “Good night, Matt.” She turned quickly, before he could answer, and hurried down the stairs, her skin still tingling from his touch.



Her mind still occupied with the conversation with Matt as she came back from her run the next morning, Georgia went up the steps to the deck and met her grandmother coming out. The floppy hat, oversized floral shirt and cutoffs were Miz Callie’s typical summer outfit. Her red plastic pail represented one of her most prized roles—that of an island turtle lady.

“Miz Callie, you’re not going out without breakfast, are you?” She glanced through the glass door, seeing only a coffee mug on the kitchen table.

Her grandmother slid a pair of pink-rimmed sunglasses on her face. “I had coffee. That’s all I need now. I’ll eat something when I get back from my patrol.”

“Why don’t you let me fix you some scrambled eggs first?” And talk to me while you’re eating. “Surely the turtles can wait that long.”

“Georgia Lee, I’ve been taking care of myself for a good long time, and I don’t intend to stop in the foreseeable future.” She walked toward the stairs, the red pail swinging. “Course, you could come along with me to look for nests.”

She was just as likely, or unlikely, to get something out of her grandmother on the beach as anywhere else. She followed her toward the beach.

“It’s early in the season, isn’t it? Have you found any nests so far?”

“Well, it’s May already.” Miz Callie set off along the dunes. “We haven’t found any on Sullivan’s Island yet, but they’ve spotted quite a few over at the national seashore. And two on Isle of Palms.”

There was the faintest thread of envy in her grandmother’s voice. She, like the rest of the turtle ladies, wanted to be the first one to spot the marks that showed a turtle had nested in the dunes, depositing her eighty or more eggs in the sand.

“Maybe today will be your lucky day,” she said. “For finding a nest, I mean.”

Miz Callie smiled as her gaze scanned the dunes. “I’d purely love that, to find a turtle nest with you. It’s been a long time—maybe since that summer before you went off to college.”

Georgia’s mind slid automatically away from the memory of that summer. Don’t think about that. Remember other times, happier times.

She tilted her head back, loving the warmth of the sun on her face, the scent of the sea teasing her nose. “I’d forgotten how much I love this place.” The note of surprise in her voice caught her off guard.

“You always did, from the time you were a little bitty child.” Her grandmother slowed, as if she didn’t have quite enough breath for both walking and talking. “You should come more often. Why did you stop?”

Again her mind shied away from the memory she’d never shared with her grandmother. “I got older. Life got complicated.”

“It does. Believe me, I know. Are you so surprised that I want to simplify it now?”

“I guess not.” Except that this quest her grandmother had embarked on was likely to provide plenty of complications. Didn’t she realize that? Maybe she did, and she just wanted the other parts of her life settled so she could save her strength for the battle over Ned’s name.

Miz Callie stopped, staring at the gentle ruffle of the waves. The tide was going out, leaving long, shallow tidal pools behind—a favorite playground for children. In an hour or two, they’d start appearing on the beach, little family parties of a mother or a set of grandparents laden down with chairs, umbrellas, maybe a cooler, ready for a few hours on the beach with the kids. The air would fill with the excited voices of the young.

“We fall into the rhythm of the ocean when we’re born here,” Miz Callie said softly, almost as if she were talking to herself. “Maybe that’s why Bodines never really thrive away from the sea.”

Her grandmother had a point. Her brothers had followed the family tradition and gone into the Coast Guard. They couldn’t conceive of a life that didn’t involve the sea.




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