Chapter 10
Luna
“Even a single stitch can alter the entire fabric of your life.”
—Eloisa Hobby
Luna’s childhood insecurities dogged her as she strolled the beach. Farther up the sand, the bonfire welcome-to-the-island event was starting, but she had no interest in joining the revelry.
Once again, Jeanie had let her down.
But honestly, didn’t the real problem lie with Luna and her unrealistic expectations of her mother? Jeanie was who she was. A person who craved creature comforts. Jeanie didn’t do well alone; she needed people around.
Perhaps, when she got right down to it, Luna was the reason Jeanie had gotten tangled up in a sweetheart scam. Luna had been so consumed by her own situation she hadn’t been there for her mother.
Well, sulking wouldn’t change things. Nothing to do but put her mind to it and come up with a spectacular quilt design that would put the other quilters to shame. Not that Luna knew anything about quilting, but that’s where Jeanie’s skills would come in. If they had any hope of saving the family home, they must team up.
Maybe it would be fun. Maybe this was a chance for her and Jeanie to connect in a meaningful way.
Luna’s stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She strolled from the beach into Crafters’ Corner. Although all the retail stores were closed, the restaurants were still open, but she didn’t feel like a sit-down dinner alone. Her best bet was the tiki bar on the beach.
From the welcome party half a mile down the beach, she could hear raucous laughter, but here, the night was still and silent. The only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against the shoreline and a guitarist at the tiki bar covering the Rod Stewart song “I Don’t Want to Talk About It.”
Up ahead of her, a lamplighter lit tiki torches, sending flicking orange flames into the darkness and throwing long shadows over the sand. The air smelled of coconut and gardenias. A few people sat in the beach chairs that circled the inlet, their conversations low and muted.
Romantic.
From her peripheral vision, Luna saw one couple smooching up a storm. She was so busy staring and walking that she didn’t see the man step off the wooden deck and onto the sand until she plowed straight into him.
He wore a white long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, khaki cargo shorts, and beach sandals. His shirt, untucked, rippled in the billowing wind. He reached out a hand to steady her.
Embarrassed, she jumped back without looking up. “Oops! I’m so sorry!”
“No, no, my fault. I walked right in front of you.”
That voice!
Even without seeing his face, Luna knew him. He smelled the same. Like the cologne he favored so long ago, Paco Rabanne, and the bittersweet notes of grapefruit mixed with the zing of peppermint. Zesty.
Paul.
Her heart surged.
Twenty-two years later and he was still just as handsome. Maybe even more so. His hair was longer, curling at his collar and sprinkled with gray among the jet-black strands. Same chiseled features, same powerful jaw. Had he gotten taller? Or had she forgotten what a compelling figure he cut?
He stepped back, a look of surprise that she supposed mirrored her own creeping across his face. “Why, hello there, Moonbeam. Long time no see.”
Eighteen again, and it was as if twenty-two years simply vanished. She stared at Paul, unable to speak, unable to do anything except gape and peer into his gorgeous blue eyes lit shiny by the tiki torch reflection.
Paul Chance, the love of her life, stood before her on Hobby Island. What were the odds? Astronomical.
The scariest part? The whispering voice in her head posed nonsensical questions. What if Paul still loved her? What if they rekindled their romance? What if . . .
Nope, no stupid, foolish hope. Old feelings aside, a relationship between her and Paul was untenable. She had lost a husband, her money, her home, and she tottered on the verge of losing yet another place to live, all within thirteen short months.
Her life was a hot mess. Falling in love again? Not an option, especially with the guy whose heart she’d shattered.
To even think that thought was sheer nuttiness. And yet, her heart melted as sweet memories swamped her.
Paul didn’t seem to hold a grudge. The man exuded relaxed, easygoing self-confidence. Jealousy for his peace of mind whapped her in the shins and she teetered.
“Luna?” Her name fell from his lips as gentle as jacaranda blossoms drifting to the ground on a soft sea breeze. “Is it really you? Or am I having the best dream ever?”
When Dot told them someone named Orion would pick up their luggage, Luna’s imagination had conjured up Paul, but she never actually believed he was on the island. Or that Orion might be his child. Jolted by the possibilities, her giddy heart galloped.
“It’s me.” Her voice quivered. “I’m here.”
“It’s so good to see you.” An empty phrase people used when they hadn’t seen you in a couple of decades. “You look amazing.”
A strange silence passed between them, awkward and uncertain.
Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, Paul opened his arms wide. A welcomed invitation. Luna flung herself headlong into his embrace, as if they were still together and madly in love.
“You’re trembling,” he said.
“You are too.”
“So I am.” He released her and stepped back, locking gazes with her. “I can’t believe it’s you. I thought we’d never meet again.”
“I believed the same.”
“Can I have another hug?” he asked, eager as a golden retriever.
She nodded and moved closer, hungry to feel his arms around her again.
He squeezed her tight, and she hugged him back, soaking up the moment. She closed her eyes and ignored the passing of time. He picked her up off her feet and spun her around in a circle, laughing, as if she weighed nothing more than a sack of feathers. She’d forgotten just how good it felt to be in his powerful arms.
Reunited with the love of her life.
A dream she never dared dream.
Oh, how fast she raced ahead of reality. Come back to earth, Luna.
Paul set her down, and when her feet touched the sand, she landed in the present moment. No longer teenagers, but two strangers, having led entire adult lives without each other.
“What—”
“How—”
They both laughed.
“You go first,” he said.
“No, you.”
“Would you like to grab a bite to eat?” He waved toward the tiki bar. “Have a conversation?”
She wanted that more than anything! It might not be sane, but she wanted it. “I was headed that direction when we collided.”
“Well, then . . . it’s fated.” He held out his arm to her. “Shall we?”
“Lead on.” Pulse leaping, she draped her arm around his and his big bicep bunched. Another sweet jolt. Another electrical thrill.
He found an empty bistro table at the tiki bar and took a seat on the wicker chair. Luna parked herself across from him and stacked her hands on the table in front of her.
The server scooted over. “What’ll ya have?”
Paul gave Luna the rakish grin she remembered oh so well. That grin once coaxed off her panties on a water tower. “Something to drink?”
“Just iced tea for me.”
“Nothing stronger?”
“I don’t drink.”
“Makes sense.” He nodded. She didn’t drink alcohol because of her father, but he didn’t need to say that. It was understood.
“Don’t let me stop you,” she said. “If you want to drink, get something.”
“No, I’m good.” To the server, he said, “Two iced teas, Jim.”
“Do you know your food order?” Jim asked.
“They have great tacos here.” Paul winked, and it brought back the memory of a little hole-in-the-wall taqueria they once frequented in Julep called Orgasmic Tacos.
“Tacos sound . . . orgasmic.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from blushing.
“Two taco plates.” Grinning, Paul raised two fingers.
“On it.” Jim drifted away.
Silence dropped between them, and Luna racked her brain for something witty to say, but her dazzled mind came up empty.
“So,” he said. “Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m here with Mom and Artie. Mom is entering the quilting contest.”
“Artie?” An enigmatic expression crossed his face.
“My daughter,” she said. “Artemis is fifteen and I have a son too, Beck. He’s eighteen, almost nineteen, and a first-year student at OU on a baseball scholarship. He wants to go into sports medicine.”
“Sounds like you’ve got some terrific kids. And you named your daughter Artemis.” Humor tinged his words.
“Does Orion belong to you?”
“Yes.” Paul nodded, his gaze never leaving Luna’s face. “She’s sixteen going on forty.”
“Same with Artie. She thinks she knows everything. So, a daughter named Orion and not a son?”
“It’s a gender-neutral name, and it just suited her.”
“You’re the gardener here?”
“I am.” He nodded. “I also maintain the golf carts and scooters.”
“That’s what makes the island flowers so beautiful. You.”
“Orion helps with the gardening too. It’s not all me.”
“How are your mother and stepdad?” she asked. “I heard they left Julep some time ago.”
“They’re divorced, thank god,” he said. “I never thought Mom would leave Rick, but she finally did. She is living near her sister in Phoenix.”
“I’m glad she’s doing well.”
“Are you and Herc still together?” he asked.
“You knew I married Herc Boudreaux?”
“I got the Julep newspaper online during my stint in the military,” Paul said. “Your wedding was front-page news. Just the kind of story to set Julep buzzing.”
Did he sound a little sarcastic? She studied his face, but he seemed sincere. After she’d broken up with Paul, he’d joined the navy. She learned that from his friends, not Paul. He never told her, but why would he? She had already sent him packing.
“Herc worked as an emergency department physician. He tended gang members at the county hospital in Dallas and got killed in a shoot-out last year.”
Paul’s expression remained neutral, unruffled. She couldn’t tell whether the news of her husband’s death affected him or not.
He reached across the table to lay his hand over hers. The warmth of his palm seeped through her skin. “I’m so deeply sorry for your loss, Luna. I hadn’t heard about Herc. Here on the island, I’m out of touch with my old life.”
He didn’t know the half of what she’d been through, but Luna didn’t need his pity and she wouldn’t spill her guts about how Herc gambled away everything they owned. That was too much, too soon. He didn’t need to know about Jeanie’s financial troubles either.
“Thank you. What about you? Are you and Orion’s mother—”
“My wife, Julie, passed away from a brain aneurysm while in labor with Orion.”
Her heartstrings jerked. “Oh, Paul! That’s so tragic for you and your girl.”
“We had a tough go of it for a while. Raising an infant alone?” He shook his head. “Not for the faint of heart.”
“Your poor daughter, losing her mother like that.”
“Orion has no memory of Julie. It’s not as hard for her as it must be for your Artemis. Losing your dad when you’re a teenager has got to be the toughest.”
“She’s resilient,” Luna said. “But I do worry.”
“You wouldn’t be my Moonbeam if you didn’t worry.”
My Moonbeam. Luna couldn’t draw in a full breath.
Kind eyes accompanied his smile. His hand remained on hers and she didn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?” His eyebrows lifted, and he seemed genuinely surprised.
“For hurting you the way I did. I’m glad we’ve met again, so I can apologize. I was young, hurt, confused.”
He hadn’t deserved the punishment she doled out. Yes, he had been wrong, but she’d been too quick to judgment and even quicker to abandon him. Shame burned from her belly to the tops of her ears.
His eyes turned tender. “Water under the bridge, Moonbeam. Life’s too short to hold grudges.”
“Oh, Paul.” She held his gaze. “That is so kind. You have every right to blame me.”
He looked puzzled. “For what?”
“For giving up on us so easily.”
“You were well within your rights. I gave you plenty of cause.”
Their order arrived and between bites of scrumptious tacos, their conversation shifted to safer topics—Hobby Island, plant cultivation, parenting challenges.
“Oh my gosh, these tacos are—”
“Orgasmic?” He chuckled.
“Yes, yes, they are.” She joined in his laughter. “Best tacos ever.”
“That’s high praise coming from a taco connoisseur, but you’ll find food on Hobby Island leans toward the extraordinary.”
“How did you end up on the island?” she asked.
“It’s a little convoluted,” Paul said. “My wife, Julie, was the niece of Eloisa’s ex-husband, Charles. Eloisa helped raised Julie after her mother got deep into an opioid addiction following a back injury. Julie even lived with Eloisa and Charles for a time before they divorced. I’ve heard Charles was pretty abusive, but Eloisa doesn’t talk about her past, so it’s not fair for me to discuss it either.”
Luna liked that he didn’t gossip.
“Anyway, when Julie died, I left the navy and moved to Everly with Orion to be near Julie’s family. Finding gainful employment in a small coastal town is difficult. Eloisa had just inherited Hobby Island from her parents, and she wanted to start a crafters’ paradise, so she hired me to help her get it going.”
“You’ve been here from the beginning?”
“I have.” He finished the last bite of taco and dabbed his fingers on a napkin. “It’s been a wonderful place for Orion to grow up. Not only is the island safe and peaceful but she’s got Eloisa and the aunties who act as surrogate mothers. Accepting Eloisa’s help was the best thing I ever did for my daughter.”
“Where does Orion go to school?”
“Everly. She takes the ferry every day during the school year. I’m so proud of her. She’s a straight-A student.” The love in his eyes when Paul spoke of his daughter tugged at Luna’s heartstrings. He’d given up his military career in exchange for a better life for his child.
“Is Eloisa as kind as she seems?”
“Even more so,” Paul said, his voice filling with warmth and admiration. “She’s an angel in human form. She’s quite unique and she’s helped so many people on their path to healing.”
“How’s that?”
“Mostly by providing a safe place for people to explore and learn about themselves through crafts and community, but she’s also a fantastic listener.”
His enthusiastic endorsement of Eloisa eased some of Luna’s concerns about the woman and Hobby Island. The place seemed too magical, too perfect. But maybe it was just that simple. By spreading love and kindness, Eloisa attracted more love and kindness into her life until she just vibrated goodness. A circle loop of positive energy.
Luna so wanted to believe that, but her old wary doubts whispered, It’s not okay to feel too safe. Question everything and everyone.
“You’re doing it,” Paul said.
“What?” Startled, Luna blinked.
“Fretting.”
“How do you know?”
“You still have the tell.”
“Huh?”
“You caress the back of your knuckles when you’re worried about something. What’s worrying you, Luna?”
“This place is surreal. I don’t trust it.”
“Ahh,” he said, and then nothing else. A moment passed. Then two.
“Ahh, what?”
“You’re still there.” His tone was soft, his eyes compassionate.
That irritated her. “I’m still where?”
“Afraid to let down your guard.” He held up his palms. “But no judgment. We’ve all got our own timelines for letting go of fear. Some of us never get there. That’s okay too. People get to be who they are.”
“I let down my guard with you and look how that ended.” The words blew right through her mind and shot from her mouth before she could stop them, blurting what was in her heart.
Paul winced as if he’d been gut-punched and exhaled audibly. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“I have.”
“I don’t want to add to your suffering.”
Luna cocked her head and studied him, trying to cipher what thoughts churned in his handsome head. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s another story you know nothing about,” he said.
“Another story?”
“My side of it. The story I couldn’t tell you back then but now . . .” He drew in a breath. “Maybe it’s time.”
“Last call,” Jim, the bartender, announced to the patio. “We close in fifteen minutes, folks.”
“Let me walk you back to your B it came from them both having worked in food service when they were in high school. “I’ve got that too.”
“Thank you for dinner.”
“My pleasure.” He offered his arm and smiled.
She slipped her hand around his elbow, and they walked up the beach toward Crafters’ Corner and the row of B&Bs beyond. Most everyone had left the area. A couple walked on the beach holding hands. Two men fished off a nearby dock. A golden half-moon hung in the night sky and Luna’s blood flowed thick with feelings, a hard knot of emotions pressing against her chest.
Luna kept sneaking sidelong glances at Paul.
The breeze tousled his lush, wavy hair. He was still good-looking, and his incredible sex appeal knocked her sideways. His angular jaw sported two days’ growth of beard stubble, just the right amount of scruff, enhanced by full, chiseled lips. Her heart fluttered and her cheeks burned.
“It feels like yesterday,” he said.
Yes, twenty-two years disappeared in an instant, as her yearning for him grew stronger than ever. How badly she wanted to kiss this man! How much she wanted to taste him. Crazy, irrational notions and so dangerous, this heady rush of hormones coursing through her system.
Was she losing her mind? Her best friend in Dallas, Becca Derling, had told her it was time for her to get laid. But Luna wasn’t free with her body. She did not willy-nilly follow her sexual impulses. Not thoughtful, methodical, careful Luna Montgomery Boudreaux.
Except around Paul, the bad boy. But he was no longer a boy, and he had never really been all that bad, just daring, and rebellious, until that horrible night . . .
“We’re here.” She stopped outside the wrought-iron gates and turned to face him. “The Nestled Inn.”
“Quick trip.”
His eyes fascinated her. She couldn’t get enough of peering into them. “Too quick.”
He stared back, enrapt.
“Good night.” Shyly, she smiled at Paul, lowering her lashes to half-mast. “Thank you for walking with me.”
“You’re welcome.” His tone as soothing as a cat’s soft purr.
Neither of them moved. She ached for him to touch her, to kiss her. She willed it so.
“It’s been a pleasure seeing you again.” He sounded formal now, the intimacy of their walk ebbing. He took a step back.
Her hopes for a good-night kiss crashed on rocky shoals. Gracious! What was wrong with her? She wasn’t eighteen and she stopped believing in fairy-tale magic long ago.
Once, this gorgeous man rocked her world. Now he was a stranger. A stranger she still had tender feelings for. How was that possible? The pulse in the hollow of her throat throbbed.
The lamplight delineated his features, emphasizing the tiny lines etched at the corners of his eyes. No denying the passage of time. She had facial lines of her own. Absent-mindedly, she ironed the wrinkle between her eyebrows with an index finger. She could rub all she wanted, there was no erasing the past.
He was not the same impetuous boy she’d known, and she wasn’t that same infatuated girl. She was a mother, a widow.
Paul stepped closer and lowered his head and for one wild moment she thought her bizarre wish might come true and he would indeed kiss her. “I’ve enjoyed this.”
“Me too.” She puckered her lips. His lovely scent filled her nose.
“Would you like to go on a picnic with me tomorrow?” he asked.
“I would love that.”
“That’s great. Meet me in the quad at noon and we’ll have lunch on the beach.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It’s a date. Good night, Luna.” His voice poured over her as rich and sweet as melted caramel. She wanted to gobble him up.
“Good night, Paul.” She closed the remaining few inches between them. “So nice to see you again.”
“You too.”
She touched her tongue to her upper lip. Waited. Silently inviting him to kiss her, but he did not. Instead, he half turned toward the street.
Disappointed, she exhaled. “Before you go . . .”
“Yes?”
“Tell me what else happened that awful night. What is it I don’t know?”
He waved. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Please, just tell me. I can’t stand not knowing.” It bothered her that a secret had lurked between them all this time.
“It’s not my place. If you really want to know, ask your mother.” Then he left her standing bewildered beneath the porch light, wondering what else had happened on that miserable night.