The Calling (8 page)

He leaned into her and narrowed his eyes. “Is that the truth or an excuse?”

“The truth.”

“That’s not a good reason,” he whispered. “You don’t know if your cancer’s coming back any more than I know if I’ll die in a car wreck tomorrow. I don’t let my fear keep me off the road. You shouldn’t either.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through this year.”

“If you’d let me into your life, I would.”

“I can’t.”

“I’m not Ty.”

“Believe me, I know that.”

“I don’t think you do.” He took both of her hands in one of his and, with his other hand, he cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him. Terrified he’d see her fear, she tried to drop her gaze. With a gentle push of his hand, he forced her to lock eyes with him. Her breath caught when she saw the resolve and fire behind his brown eyes.

He wiped a tear from her cheek with a brush of his thumb. “Let’s say the cancer never happened, and Ty didn’t exist. You met me at a bar while you were hanging out with Lori. If I’d asked you on a date, would you’ve been interested?”

Of course she would have been interested. She might even have picked him over Ty if he’d asked her out first. If she told him that, it would only make him more adamant, but she wasn’t going to lie.

She took a deep breath before answering. “Yes”

His expression brightened. “Then, I’ll wait until you’re ready to date again.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t met anyone who makes me feel the way you do.”

A small part of her defenses wavered. She leaned away, terrified she’d break down and kiss him. “I never knew.”

He dropped his hand from her cheek, but he didn’t let go of her hands. “How was I supposed to tell you when you were engaged to my best friend?”

She thought back to all the time Justin had spent with her, searching for shells while Ty surfed or fished. When Ty was assigned to a cutter on her twenty-sixth birthday, Justin had picked out a book on proper formatting for poems and signed Ty’s name to the gift card. She’d never told Ty she wrote poetry, only Justin. Such a thoughtful present should have been her first clue. How had she been so blind to everything going on around her?

Justin squeezed her hands. “I want to spend time together and have fun like we did today. I promise I won’t pester you about a date if you’ll just give me that.”

“What if I’m never ready to date again? I’ll feel like I’m leading you on.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.” He let go of her hands and grabbed her pillow. With a quick movement, he punched it, making it nice and fluffy, then he smoothed out the part of her sleeping bag below the pillow. “Sleep on it. If you want to tell me to get lost in the morning, I’ll pout a little, but I promise not to hound you anymore, as long as we’re still friends.”

She nestled into the pillow and yawned so hard her jaw cracked. On any other night, she would have stayed up for hours, thinking about his proposition, but the sun, sand, and ocean had sucked dry her last scrap of energy. Besides, his confession was too much to process in one night. “Sleeping on it sounds like a great plan,” she said in a groggy voice.

“I’m wide awake now,” Justin grumbled.

“You started it.”

“I know. Mind if I leave you to take a walk?”

Her eyes began to sag closed. “If you promise not to go very far.”

“Promise.”

She heard Justin unzip the tent door and zip it shut behind him as she drifted off to sleep. Maybe in her dreams, she’d sort out her feelings.

* * *

Justin wandered the beach, careful not to let the tent out of his sight. The half-moon glistened on the surface of the ocean, creating a line of shimmering light leading toward the sand.

He sighed and ran his hands through his freshly showered hair. Mandy finally knew how he felt. He’d thought it’d be a huge burden off his chest, but now he wished he’d kept his lips shut tight. She wasn’t ready for more than friendship and, if he pushed her too hard, she’d run.

He kicked some loose sand with his flip-flop. Like dust, it sprayed toward the water. Why was he so impatient? Three years on the sidelines, that was why.

For an hour, he wandered the beach and, in the moonlight, he watched crabs scurry across the sand to their dens. He stopped when he saw a little fiddler defending his home from a larger crab. They battled like mini-fencers, using their claws as swords.

He felt sorry for the small guy. No way could he scare off a bully twice his size. But the little crab parried, then lashed out, clamping down on the aggressor’s claw. A small snap pierced the night as the underdog claimed victory.

Justin chuckled as the larger crab scurried away. Seemed the little guy had some fight in him after all. He needed to take a lesson from the crab… never give up.

So what if Mandy knew he wanted her? He’d had an itch to tell her since her breakup. Maybe his timing wasn’t perfect, but at least he was in the running. All he had to do was break through her fear of relationships and convince her that he wouldn’t leave should the cancer strike again. Suddenly, he was the underdog battling the larger crab, and the attacking beast was brandishing a claw the size of a tanker truck.

He sighed, realizing he’d need a damn miracle after what Ty had done to her.
Stupid bastard
.

* * *

Mandy cracked an eyelid and sat up in the dark tent. She moaned quietly, annoyed that something had woken her. In her dream, she’d been topless on a beach, playing in the surf. Her left breast had been flawless without the jagged scar slashing the skin in half. Whatever had interrupted her short time with a perfect body had better get lost fast.

“Cecelia,” Justin murmured.

She shook off the remnants of sleep and perked her ears, trying to make sense of his words.

Through the dark, she saw his hand rise then fall to his side. “No…” His sleeping bag rose and fell with gasping breaths. “No!”

Mandy drew her eyebrows together. Was he having a nightmare? She slid out of her bag and crawled the short space between them. “Justin,” she whispered, scared she’d jolt him awake if she spoke too loud.

His head turned toward her, but his eyes stayed clamped shut. The lines on his forehead grew deeper and deeper. She wanted to reach out and smooth them.

“Justin,” she said, a little louder. “You’re having a bad dream.”

He trembled violently and shot up to a sitting position. “Cecelia!”

Mandy flinched at the intensity and pain in his voice. She reached out and touched Justin’s arm, wanting to comfort him. “You’re having a bad dream. That’s all.”

Justin blinked a few times, and his gaze fixed on her face. “Mandy?” He reached out and wrapped her in his warm arms. Before she could think to stop him, he’d pulled her into the unzipped sleeping bag and held her so tight she couldn’t move. Her head rested against his hard chest, and she listened to his heart jackhammer beneath his ribs. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” His voice broke. “I’m fine.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

A stab of jealousy pierced her heart.
Oh, God
. Was she jealous because he’d called out another woman’s name? She squeezed her eyes shut.
No, no, no
, she chastised herself. The jealousy didn’t abate. She sighed in defeat. Not only was she jealous, but she didn’t want to move from his arms. His hold on her never eased, so at least she had an excuse to stay put.

She relaxed into him and was thankful when his heart beat a normal rhythm again. Between the warmth of his body nestled against hers and the steady pounding of his heart, she fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

In the morning, Mandy awoke and peered through little slits.
Too hot
. Why was she sweating? She glanced up, forcing her eyes open wider. Justin’s slack face rested peacefully on his pillow only a few inches away. The foggy memory of his bad dream came back, and she recalled when he’d pulled her under the covers.

A smile crossed her face. He looked so perfect with his long lashes touching the tops of his cheeks. When her gaze rested on his lips, she imagined what they would feel like beneath hers. Was she being stupid letting her past get in the way of her future? Maybe the cancer was gone for good. And if it was, didn’t she deserve a happy ending?

As she stared at Justin, she began to think he was worth the gamble. Her gaze rested on his mouth again, and his lips became more and more tantalizing as she studied them. How would he react if she woke him with a kiss? Would he wrap her in his arms and kiss her softly? Or would he be rough and demanding? She wanted to find out.

Mandy slowly lowered her face to his. The closer she leaned into him, the faster her blood rushed. Did she have the courage? She paused, fear convoluting her thoughts. Justin’s sweet breath brushed her lips, sending a tingle down her spine. Oh, yes, she had the courage.

She lowered the last inch between them, almost touching his mouth. Then, the ring of her phone pierced the silence. She stifled a groan.
Dang phone
! She pulled herself from Justin’s arms and fumbled through her beach bag until she found her cell. Justin slept, oblivious to the goings-on around him, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with deep slumber.

“Hello,” she whispered, while she unzipped the tent door and crawled out into the bright morning.

“Is this Miss Hardy?”

She squinted toward the ocean. “Yes.”

“Hello, this is Debra with Dr. Orson’s office.”

She clutched the phone so hard her knuckles ached. “You have the results?”

“Dr. Orson wants you to come in for another mammogram.”

“Why?” She couldn’t stop her voice from shaking.

“The radiologist would like to view a suspicious area from a different angle.”

The blue sky turned gray and the water black. “When?”

“The imaging center has an opening Tuesday morning. They’re holding the appointment for you.”

She wanted to ask Debra just how suspicious the mammogram looked, but Debra wouldn’t know anything, and the radiologist wouldn’t speculate until after another screening. She’d been through the procedure enough to know how it worked.

Mandy sucked in a deep breath to keep her tears from overflowing. “Do I need to call the center to confirm the appointment?”

“No. It’s for nine A.M.”

“Thanks.”

After she hung up, she hugged herself tightly and rocked on her heels. A cool breeze ruffled her hair. Yesterday, she’d enjoyed the wind, but now it was just a blast of sand and salt that pummeled her into an even worse mood.

She hung her head. If the cancer was back, she’d have to endure another year of hell—if she was lucky. If the prognosis was dire, she’d have to pick out a burial plot.

Mandy looked back at the unzipped door. She couldn’t possibly face Justin with her emotions so volatile. No matter how bad she wanted him, he didn’t need to deal with her mess. Quietly, she slipped into the tent, gathered her belongings, and left while he still slept.

Chapter 5

Justin walked down the glaring white hallway of his mother’s psychiatric hospital; his brain went comatose at the thought of spending the day in this hellhole. Even dogs deserved a better place to live than this. He passed door after door of rooms filled with patients unable to care for themselves. They were either delusional or suicidal, and sometimes both.

As the acrid odor of bleach stung his nostrils and eyes, and the cries of the afflicted echoed off the sterile walls, he wondered if his mom would be better off dead. At least she wouldn’t be suffering, and he wouldn’t be reminded of how she’d abandoned him.

He shook his head. Jesus, what a sick way to think. What kind of son wanted his mother dead? He glanced at the petite nurse escorting him and wondered what she’d think of his vile thoughts. She’d probably kick him out on his ass, like he deserved.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the middle-aged man sitting outside his room until the patient grabbed his arm. “Have you seen my wife?” the gaunt man asked.

Justin stared into the man’s drooping brown eyes. Even though his gaze was dull and filled with misery, there was an innocence to his question that couldn’t be ignored, as if the man refused to believe someone he loved could have dumped him in this pit. Was that how his mom felt?

“My wife? Have you seen her?” the patient asked again.

“No, sir. I haven’t.”

The nurse took the man’s hand and placed it on the armrest of his chair. “Mr. Doherty, Sandra will be here to visit next week. We talked about that this morning.” The nurse smiled. “Do you remember?”

Flecks of drool gathered at the corners of the man’s mouth. “She… she said she was coming today.”

The nurse patted the man’s hand as if comforting a child. “I’ll come back as soon as I take this gentleman to his mother’s room. We’ll look at the calendar again.”