A Sea Glass Christmas (Outer Banks #2)

Chapter 1

T wo hours before dawn, Brody dreamed of the boat. It was a natural part of his routine. The night before he launched into any new race, he dreamed the dream. It was a simple confirmation that his life was on the right track. That he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Given everything that was currently fracturing his world, Brody might have called that ironic, entering into his happiest dream. But being asleep, he simply sighed his way into the joy.

He and his crew were far off shore, the sails well set, running with the wind.

It blew strong south by east, a rare gift in early winter.

Brody called this a cashmere wind, because no matter how strong it blew, there was a graceful ease to the air-bound currents.

It unified the crew, this gift of warm grace, intimate as a lover’s caress.

But the south wind was also a fickle lass, given to wild moods and untamed moments.

Clouds bunched like so many fists to his right, which meant they were flying east, out into deep Atlantic waters.

And that was very strange, because when the south wind showed her untamed side, any good skipper not under the racing clock knew it was time to head for shallow waters.

And Brody was always pilot and helmsman in his dream. The best there was.

So east they ran, even though the sky darkened, and the south wind now carried a heavy burden, and the distant thunder sounded her warning note.

But the crew laughed as they pushed hard under full sail, reveling in the speed and the freedom only a sailor knew.

Which was the way Brody’s dream always went: the nine of them so intimately joined, they might as well have been breathing as one.

Even now, when the cashmere wind threatened to turn thunderous and deadly.

And this was the point where Brody always woke up, fully aware of the risks and challenges involved in ocean racing.

He counted it as a good way to enter a race, excited and threatened in equal measure.

This particular dream, however, proved very different indeed. One moment, he and the crew were preparing for what might strike. The next, Brody was alone.

The boat was empty, crashing through waves nearly as tall as the sixty-foot mast. Riding up the swells, flying down the next.

He knew a heavy squall was inbound and wanted to slip into his rain gear.

But being alone in these swells, Brody couldn’t risk using the autopilot and he didn’t have time to lash the wheel.

Then the dark, fistlike clouds clenched tighter and squeezed out a torrent. Brody was struck by a solid wall of water. His vision was so limited he could no longer see the bowsprit. And he sailed alone.

He hit the electronic winches to draw in the jib and restrict the mainsail. Whether or not they actually worked, he could not see.

Then his sixty-foot mast became a lightning rod.

That had actually happened twice in his sailing career. Racing in Caribbean waters always carried this risk. The second time, they had been off Grenada. The bolt had carried such force one of the crew’s hair had caught fire. But this was different.

The masthead held a finial, also known as a strike terminator. The copper rod rose a foot above the mast and drew the charge down to where it could be safely grounded. Just the same, any such strike temporarily deafened the crew and turned the mast into a blinding pillar of fire.

Not this time.

Lightning struck in slow motion. The bolt touched the mast and went everywhere , illuminating the entire boat with a brilliant fiery pattern.

Every stay, the gunnels, the boat itself, all of it shimmering and shrieking with the harmonic power.

Slowly, inexorably, it flowed toward Brody.

Ensnaring his feet, rising up his legs, encasing his body, his arms, his neck, his face and head, and …

BOOM .

He woke standing by his condo’s open window, drenched in sweat and gasping for a breath he feared might never come.

He departed Charlotte for Morehead City at four fifteen in the morning.

Brody Reames normally considered the journey a return to heaven, or rather, as close as a man with his storied past would probably ever come.

But this trip was different. And not simply because of the nightmare he was unable to shake.

The new Independence Highway usually made these journeys a pleasure.

Three hundred miles through Carolina’s agricultural heartland, flying south of Raleigh and Durham and the Research Triangle, all the growth and tangled traffic someone else’s problem.

Brody Reames had lived his entire life in North Carolina and counted it as one of life’s fortunate coincidences.

He was leaving for the coast five days before Christmas, supposedly heading down to check out a new oceangoing racing hull.

His boss normally allowed Brody to count this as a regular day at the office.

Yet on this particular morning, all he felt was a confused dread.

Two days earlier, his mother had called with news that rocked his world.

She had left her husband. She had filed for a legal separation.

Divorce proceedings would begin early in the new year.

When Brody had asked why and why now, his mother had replied in the same calm down-east manner that had defined her entire life.

“It’s time to live life on my terms,” was all Mia Reames would say.

The years spent serving as chief mate and helmsman on oceangoing racers had granted Brody the ability to shut off his emotional tap.

Just slam the door shut on anything other than the task at hand.

Today, however, was different. His mother’s news had arrived just as the rest of his world was unraveling.

The journey took just over four hours, blasting east with all the windows down.

The forecast rain never arrived, though the dreamtime lightning strike remained his constant companion.

Brody entered the Morehead City morning traffic, stopped for a light, and texted his sister.

Olivia responded immediately, saying she was on break and to meet her in the hospital cafeteria.

He turned off 70 and entered the Carteret County Hospital’s main lot.

The west wing was still under construction, and the lot was surrounded by glistening raw earth.

His sister was a skilled biotechnician and ran one of their new labs.

The hospital was forward-thinking, a rarity down east, and had set up a flexible arrangement to assist young mothers like Olivia.

Olivia resembled their father, only with her, the squarish jaw and unruly dark hair became very attractive.

She also possessed a brilliant mind and energy to match, and was blunt and direct, and very open with her opinions.

Brody’s earliest memory was of her watching him sleep through the narrow slats of his first real bed.

Her intelligent gaze said clearly that she wasn’t sure he was worth keeping.

The cafeteria held two Christmas trees that blinked a seasonal welcome.

His sister was seated at a window table, where the midday light cast her features in a Renaissance glow.

She was with a visibly pregnant woman Brody vaguely recognized.

The fact that Olivia was not meeting him alone told him everything he needed to know.

Olivia was not going to let him have a private chat about their mother’s decision.

Which probably meant Olivia had known about this for some time

Olivia rose to her feet at his approach, hugged him tightly, and said, “Welcome home.”

“It’s good to see you.” He dropped into the chair beside hers. Smiled to the woman seated across from them. And did not say a word.

Standing by the entrance, Brody had thought she looked familiar. Now his sister’s silence confirmed it. Olivia knew they had been together, and also knew Brody did not remember the woman’s name.

He waited.

The silence might have lasted for hours, sister and brother turning the moment into just another contest. But Olivia’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen and rose to her feet. “I need to take this.”

When Olivia walked away, the woman seated across from him said, “Cameron.”

The memories clicked into place of what for him had been a summer fling with her.

She was back from college and waitressing in the dockside restaurant.

Brody had been training with a new team and working at his uncle’s marina.

Their good times lasted until he left for the ocean trials.

She had not taken his casual departure at all well.

Brody said, “You’re not called Cammie anymore? ”

“Not in years.”

“I never cared for that name.”

“I remember.” Her smirk resembled Olivia’s. “I’m surprised you do.”

“Are you here visiting someone?”

“I’m a clinical psychologist now. I work one day a week with patients here. And their families. Crisis counseling.” She patted her stomach. “Though all that’s about to change.”

She was a handsome woman, the vivacious young lady all tucked away beneath layers of professional intelligence. In her knowing gaze was all the reason Brody needed to say, “Do you have time for a new patient?”

The words erased Cameron’s quiet smugness. “What?”

Brody had uttered the words almost without thinking. The drowning man reaching out for whatever help was there at hand. He knew an instant’s utter panic, then nothing. At some visceral level, he knew this was the right thing to do. And the right time.

His silence unsettled her. “You really mean this? You want to enter therapy?”

“If you’ll have me. I do. Yes.”

“Brody … why?”

It’s time , he wanted to say. But he knew that wasn’t enough. “My life is about to go through some major transitions. I want to make sure I take the right steps.”

The smirk was history now. She studied him with the dispassionate intelligence of a true professional. “Are you saying you want to change?”

“The change is happening whether I want it or not.”

“That’s not what I mean, Brody. And I think you know it.

” Cameron’s entire focus was on him. The hospital, the cafeteria, the hand still resting on her middle, the people at neighboring tables, his sister standing in the far corner, all gone.

“My question goes deeper than whatever changes are being foisted upon you from outside. I ask again. Do you want to change?”

The question resonated at gut level. “Want is too strong. But it’s time.”

“Is it?” She studied him a long moment. “If your mother’s divorce is the reason your world’s been shaken, you need to accept that Mia Reames is stronger than she appears. Stronger than either of you probably realize.”

“That’s not—”

“Mia will get through this all on her own. And your desire to manage change, if this is what’s driving your current need, will fade.

” Lights blinking on the nearest Christmas tree softened her face but not her tone.

“In time, you’ll go back to your old ways.

And you’ll forget all about this conversation. Or try to.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want.” The words and the way Cameron regarded him all hurt.

Because they were precisely what he deserved.

Brody felt himself perspiring, both from how she had stripped away his defenses and because he was determined now to continue.

“What Mom is going through is only part of it. The spur that’s pushing me to do what I’ve needed to face for years.

It’s all come together. And I need help. ”

Cameron remained distant, unmoved, analytical. Her voice matched her gaze. “I’m not convinced this is real.”

“And I’m saying—”

“Hear me out, Brody. It’s real for you now . But true change means months of work. Sometimes years. It requires a dedicated commitment.” Even her smile carried a clinical edge. “Quite frankly, I don’t see you holding this ability.”

He nodded, not in agreement, but because it was what he deserved. “Just the same, I want to work with you.”

She shook her head. Definite now. “I can’t erase how you treated me. Or the pain you caused.”

“Which is why I’m asking.” Trying to keep his voice level, hide the raw, almost acidic element. “You’ve seen my dark side. What I need to move beyond.”

He could see the response was unexpected. It shook her. Cameron remained silent until she noticed Olivia was heading back in their direction. “I can’t accept you as a patient, Brody. Not yet, anyway. And perhaps not ever. Our past … you understand? But I am willing to speak with you as—”

He could see how she backed away from using the word friends . “I do understand. And thank you.”

She pulled a card and pen from her jacket pocket, scribbled, passed it over.

“I can speak with you this time tomorrow. Call my cell.” She halted his thanks with an upraised hand.

“Between now and then, I want you to think about this. What does change mean to you? At the deepest personal level, how would you define healthy personal change?”

Brody could see the dismissal in her gaze. Which was good, because he had no interest in Olivia seeing just how deeply his world had been shaken. He rose to his feet and said, “Until tomorrow.”