Chapter 3
THREE
“What caused this?” Faith asked. Casey and Scott had seemed so happy together. What could’ve pulled them apart? Since having Isabella they’d always seemed like the perfect family—so happy together. She’d never even heard that they’d argued about anything.
“It was Scott’s decision, not mine.”
Knowing Scott, Faith couldn’t imagine anything ruffling his feathers; he was always so agreeable. Casey was strong-willed and opinionated and she needed someone like Scott to even her out. They were the perfect little family: two loving parents and their adorable little girl.
Faith’s mind went back to the day at the hospital when she had gone to see Isabella just after she was born.
The excitement at seeing her niece was almost more than she could bear.
She couldn’t wait to hold this teeny tiny baby in her arms, smell her powdery scent, and feel the grip of the baby’s fingers on her hand.
She’d raced straight there as soon as her mother had called, because she couldn’t wait to see this amazing, little baby, even though it meant seeing Scott and Casey.
What would she look like? Did she have Scott’s eyes? Faith had always loved his eyes.
When she opened the hospital door, her breath caught just for a second.
Scott was lying next to Casey, his arms around her, looking down adoringly at her, baby Isabella in Casey’s arms. For a moment she felt that same old lurch, recognizing that the way Scott watched his wife was the way he had once looked at her with that same love and feeling.
Scott’s eyes were wiser than they’d been when he’d looked at her so adoringly all those years ago.
His hair was shorter, his face aged a little more—that smooth, soft face that she’d known so well now showing the stubble from a long day.
His hand was stroking Isabella’s head, and his fingers looked so calm, so careful—nothing like the hands that had moved about her body so frantically that night in the cottage.
He wasn’t a boy anymore. In that moment, Faith realized that the boy she’d known had grown into a man, and that man was Casey’s, not hers.
She remembered looking from face to face, and the love that she saw there in that moment was nearly paralyzing.
Everything she wanted—a devoted husband, a family of her own—was right there before her, and it wasn’t hers to have.
She had to be strong. This wasn’t about her. It was about baby Isabella.
After she’d seen Isabella, held her, given her auntie-kisses, and congratulated Casey and Scott, she’d spent the rest of the night in her apartment.
It was the loneliest she’d ever been. That whole night, all she could see when she closed her eyes were Scott and Casey—the happiness on their faces.
It had been like a double-edged sword: she’d felt terribly guilty at the thought of wishing they hadn’t been that happy, and she felt angry that her sister, who was capable of being so selfish, could have that kind of happiness at Faith’s expense.
But then she thought about little Isabella.
Isabella deserved to have a family who loved each other.
Faith had grown a lot since those days. She no longer carried around any feelings for Scott—she knew he was good for her sister.
What lingered still, however, was the pain of disloyalty.
Family had always been the most important thing in Faith’s life.
They were the people who, no matter what, should be by her side.
They knew her failures and her strengths, and they should love her unconditionally.
So, when Casey had betrayed Faith’s trust, it had knocked her sideways.
She’d tried to rationalize that at least it had ended in something meaningful.
And it had. Casey had created a family, and Faith could see the importance of this.
It had helped soften the blow a little. But now, Casey was getting divorced, and she seemed resigned to the fact that the divorce was imminent.
That bothered Faith. It made her angry with Casey all over again despite her attempts to feel sorry for her.
Casey finally turned and looked at her sister, her eyes glassy with emotion. “He says he doesn’t feel like he knows me anymore.” Faith had never heard Casey’s voice like this. It was mild, unsure, nothing like the confident, strong voice she’d always had.
“Why?” She could feel her face crumpling with this news. It made no sense.
“I’ve been pulling long nights at the firm. Scott works all the time too. When I do have free time, I spend it with Isabella. She needs me. He’s a grown man; he can take care of himself. I can’t keep him entertained. I don’t have time.”
How had things turned out like this? Everything had seemed so perfect. Where had it gone wrong? Just then, her sister had sounded scared. Faith could tell.
“How’s Isabella handling it?” Faith asked.
Casey took in a long, steadying breath. “He moved out. It’s been just the two of us. She misses him. She cries at night. She says I don’t read her stories the right way. She asks for him.
Faith bit her lip, trying to make sense of it all.
“I’ll help you through this,” she said. Even after everything, this was still her big sister and she didn’t want to see her hurting.
It was strange to find herself in this position but seeing her sister so scared and lost, she knew she’d do whatever she could to make things better.
“Thank you. You’re the one person I need in all this.”
“Hey, y’all,” Martha said, poking her head out the door.
“I’ve got some strawberry margaritas mixed up.
I’m thinking frozen. Want me to get the blender going?
” Before they could answer, she beckoned them in as she said, “Jake, you’re welcome to one yourself before you leave.
We won’t tell if you’re drinking on the job. ”
Only their mom would invite the handyman she’d just met to have a drink with the family.
“She brought a blender?” Faith said to Casey, unable to control her grin.
“I guess so. You know how she packs. We’d better get in there and have a drink since she’s gone to all that trouble. I want to catch her anyway before she adds the alcohol. Isabella might want one.”
“Where is Isabella?”
“She’s probably with Nan. She loves that woman. Every time we see her, I can’t pry Isabella away from her.”
The idea of another person understanding Nan like she did filled Faith with happiness. Isabella wasn’t a baby anymore. She was a little girl with her own fears and needs. Why hadn’t Faith been able to get over herself and be a bigger part of this little girl’s life?
She’d thought she could carry on with life and make it just fine without seeing her sister, but that had stolen time away from Isabella as well.
Life had moved along regardless of whether she saw Casey, and, although it had never felt comfortable, she’d been able to move along with it.
Faith decided that there was no better place to get to know this little girl than this cottage at the beach.
It had been her safe haven, the place that had contributed a stockpile of good memories, where nothing could go wrong. And she wanted everything to be right.
Casey walked up beside her. “What do you make of that guy, Jake? I’ve never seen a handyman with a haircut that perfect. He could be in magazines,” Casey pointed out in a whisper as they crossed the porch to the door.
Faith shrugged, befuddled herself by Jake.
She thought she’d seen the last of Jake earlier on, but her Nan, or fate, had seen to it that wasn’t the case.
And she couldn’t help feel excited by it.
She wasn’t about to admit to Casey what she thought about Jake.
She was having trouble defining it herself.
He had that kind of personality that could pull a person right in, and he had.
She was so glad to have the opportunity to go back inside, leave the struggles with her sister behind, and spend some time with him.
Being with him eased her away from the burdens of her issues with Casey.
She’d only just met him, and yet, he made her feel happy.
“Right. Time for margaritas!”
Faith balanced the remains of her margarita on the uneven step outside.
She’d been keeping Isabella busy most of the time that Jake had been there, and she was glad to finally be outside with him.
She hadn’t even had a chance to talk to him, so when he excused himself to load the truck once his drink was empty she followed him out.
“Be careful on this pavement,” Jake said, throwing a roll of flooring into the back of his truck. He clapped his hands to rid them of sand. “I haven’t swept up yet, and there could be nails. You’ve got bare feet,” he pointed out.
She held on to the railing and pivoted under the stairs to retrieve a pair of flip-flops that she had left at the bottom for her walks to the beach.
With a grin, she held them up before slipping them on.
Jake was still loading bits and pieces of construction materials into the back of his truck.
She picked up an armful of wood—thin slats like the ones on the porch—and began walking them over to the truck.
Jake quickly took them from her as if she were holding a mass of bricks.
She wondered if he was just being mannerly or if he thought she wasn’t capable of holding them.