Lisa Carter - Coast Guard Sweetheart

“It’s low tide.” Amelia brought the tea glass to her lips. “She and Max went clamming.”

His heart sank. “Oh.”

“But no reason you can’t take the extra kayak and head out into the marsh to find them. With Max along, she won’t have gone far.”

He raised his eyebrow into a question mark. “With Max along, is there any point in me trying to talk to her?”

Amelia’s lips curved into a smile. “With Max along, it may save you from getting clam raked. She’ll keep it civil in front of him.” Amelia glanced toward the sky. “I hope.”

She motioned behind the house to where the lawn sloped to the Duer dock. “Go on. Time’s a-wasting. Three years a-wasting, if you get my drift.”

“I’ve never been clamming. I don’t know where to look for them.”

“Keep paddling until you find the dirtiest, muckiest patch of marsh mud and there they’ll be.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Scott. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for upsetting you that spring, too.” He forced himself to look into Amelia’s blue-green eyes.

The compassion—and forgiveness—he beheld there made his chest tighten.

“You also saved my life that spring, Sawyer. Pulled me out of the Kiptohanock harbor while Braeden saved Max from his own impulsiveness. And it’s Amelia. Or ’Melia to friends like you.”

His eyes widened. “After what happened... I’m surprised you’d want me as a friend. Or allow me to get within a nautical mile of Honey.”

Amelia cocked her head. “I’m glad you’re back. A new, better man, Braeden tells me. And I know Honey will be glad you’re back, too. Once she gets over being furious with you.”

He planted his feet even with his hips. “Don’t know I’ll be here long enough for that to happen. She’s plenty mad.”

“She’s also plenty in love with you, XPO Kole.”

He fought the moisture in his eyes. “I—I can’t wish for that, ’Melia. Can’t allow myself to hope. I never did deserve Honey. Still don’t.”

“It’s not about being good enough, Sawyer.”

He hunched his shoulders.

Amelia sighed. “I hope you’ll join us at church this Sunday before you leave. I wish Honey would, too. But she won’t. Hasn’t come in a long time.”

Something else to lay at his revolving door of never-ending guilt.

God help him, Sawyer had so much for which to make amends.

He turned to go.

“And Sawyer?”

He paused.

“Godspeed on this journey God has for you, my friend. Godspeed.”

Chapter Four

Honey peered through the cord grass across the shallow drifts of the channel that separated the barrier island wildlife refuge from her home.

A gentle low tide lapped against the end of the canoe she and Max had beached on a high spot of muck and mud. Migratory birds on their yearly autumnal stopover cawed above her head. The blue-green waters waxed and waned according to the tide and the pull of the moon. Reflecting the ebb and flow of her life, too.

Uninhabited islands protected the peninsula from the fierce Atlantic currents and storms. And beyond the dunes where once a fishing village and lighthouse thrived, ocean waves churned. As did her emotions since Sawyer Kole strolled into her life again.

The soothing in and out rhythm of the tide mirrored the sum total of their relationship. Only not so soothing. More like choppy, unpredictable and treacherous.

Suddenly, Max gave a shout.

Jolting, her heart flatlined. She’d taken her eyes off him for one moment, but that’s all it took. Knee-deep in the murky water and her feet encased in layers of marsh mud, she spun a one-eighty almost toppling over when she lost her balance.

But five yards away, Max—too springy to be constrained by mere mud—bounced on the balls of his feet. He cupped his small hands around his mouth. “Aunt Honey! Look!” He gestured toward a kayak rounding the curve of the not-too-distant shoreline.

The channel sparkled like glittering diamonds in the late afternoon sun. And she’d recognize that blond towhead anywhere. After all, hadn’t it nightly haunted her dreams?

Max waved like a signalman on an aircraft carrier. “Ahoy, Coastie!”

Sawyer pointed the nose of the kayak toward the mud bank. Sloshing forward through the ankle-deep mud, Max surged forward to meet him.

Honey remained rooted in place. Unable—as in life—to either move forward or backward. Trapped in the mire that was Before Sawyer Kole, and the bleakness of her life After Sawyer Kole.

She shaded her hand over her eyes as Sawyer leaped sure-footed over the side of the kayak where Mighty Max rushed to help Sawyer drag the kayak to higher ground.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “What are you doing here?”

Like the shy, awkward boy Max had never been, Sawyer jammed his hands into his pockets. “I came looking for you.”

“That ship sailed a long time ago, Kole.”

He dropped his gaze.

“Why are you really here?”

“I wanted to talk. Ask for your forgive—”

“Save it for someone who cares, Kole. I’m working on forgiveness. Don’t push it. Or me.”

Her nephew propped his fists on his hips, Super Max-style. “Aunt Honey... Be nice.”

She winced, recalling Max’s earlier assessment of her at the diner. Earlier and accurate—at least every time Sawyer Kole got too close.

Giving her a vexed look, Max angled toward Sawyer. “You ever been clamming?”

“No.” Sawyer flicked a glance her way. “Don’t think we ever got around to—”

“We never got around to a lot of stuff, Kole.” Her mouth twisted. “Your choice, remember?”

Max scrabbled inside the canoe. “Got any more of those marsh moccasins, Aunt Honey?”

At Sawyer’s quizzical look, Max lifted his suede-clad foot above the waterline. “Aunt Honey makes these. Keeps your feet from getting cut on the clam shells.”

Honey curled her lip. “You never know what lurks in the muck. Stub a toe. Slice open a foot. And no, Max. This Coastie only wears cowboy boots, best I recall.”

Sawyer blew out a breath. “Honey... I’m sorry. You’ll never know how sorry. I only—”

“Don’t call me Honey...” She growled.

He raked a hand across his hair, leaving the sun-bleached buzz cut standing on its ends. “Sometimes you make me want to take a long walk off a short pier.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, blame the victim.”

“I never meant for things to turn out the way they did. Though in the long run—”

“How did you mean for things to turn out then, Kole? Better in the long run for you, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He heaved a breath. “If maybe we could take a drive and—”

She gave him a nice view of her back. “I’m not going anyplace with you.”

Max snorted. “Stop being a big baby, Aunt Honey. Come on, Sawyer, I’ll teach you how a proper waterman goes clamming.”

She glided her feet through the mud, the balls of her feet searching for the rounded shell.

“Just like Aunt Honey’s doing, Sawyer. Slide... And dig with your toes.”

Honey couldn’t resist a look over her shoulder.

“Slide...” Hands behind his back, Max coasted forward in a stride not unlike an Olympic speed skater. “Slide... Slide. You try it, Sawyer.”

Max stumbled and then righted himself. “Granddad says I got an eagle eye for finding clams. You gotta look for keyhole shapes in the mud. It’s the sign of clams underneath feeding.”

Crouching, he plunged his hand beneath the outgoing tide. Scrounging through the mud, seconds later Max raised his arm, a shell clutched in his hand. “Aunt Honey’s clam chowder, here we come.”

Honey sighed. “You don’t have to become one with the mud, Max. We have a spade and rake in the canoe, you know.”