Irene Hannon - It Had to Be You

Which meant that, for the first time her life, her future lay solely in her own hands. She had no one to consult, no one to make decisions for her, no one to reassure her that she could handle the task before her. It was up to her alone.

Well, maybe not quite alone, she reminded herself suddenly. There was Someone she could rely on, Someone who would stand by her through whatever lay ahead. And so she took a moment, before the demands of her new life came crashing down on her, to close her eyes and ask for His guidance.

Please, Lord, show me what to do. Help me be strong. Help me to know that. I’m never truly alone. That You’re always with me. And help me to accept, even without understanding, the hardships You’ve given me, and to believe in my heart that You would never give me a cross too heavy to bear.

The short prayer brought Maggie a momentary sense of peace and renewed confidence. She could almost feel the Lord’s loving presence beside her. And for that she was immensely grateful. For she knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she would need Him desperately in the months and years to come.

Twelve Years Later

Give it up.

The word’s echoed in Jake’s mind as the swirling Maine mist wrapped itself around his small rental car, effectively obscuring everything beyond a thirty-foot radius. He frowned and eased his foot off the accelerator. Should he continue the short distance to Castine or play it safe and pull in somewhere for the night?

A sign appeared to his right, and he squinted, trying to make out the words. Blue Hill. He glanced at the map on the seat beside him. Castine was less than twenty miles away, he calculated. But he suspected that these narrow, winding—and unfamiliar—roads weren’t too forgiving, and dusk was descending rapidly. Not a good combination, he decided. Besides, he was tired. He’d driven up from Boston, then spent what remained of the day exploring the back roads and small towns of the Blue Hill peninsula. If he wanted to feel rested and fresh for his interview at the Maine Maritime Academy tomorrow, it was time to call it a day.

As if to validate his decision, a sign bearing the words Whispering Sails B&B providentially loomed out of the mist. Talk about perfect timing! he mused. He pulled into the gravel driveway and carefully followed the gradual incline until he reached a tiny parking area, where one empty space remained. Hopefully, the space was a good sign.

Jake eased his six-foot frame out of the compact car and reached into the back seat for his suit bag, slinging it effortlessly over his shoulder. As he made his way up the stone path, he peered at the house, barely discernible through the heavy mist. The large Queen Anne-style structure of weathered gray clapboard was somewhat intimidating in size, its dull color offset by the welcome, golden light spilling from the windows and the overflowing flower boxes hugging the porch rail. Definitely a haven for a weary traveler, he decided.

Jake climbed the porch steps, read the welcome sign on the door and entered, as it instructed. A bell jangled somewhere in the back of the house, and he paused in the foyer, glancing around as he waited for someone to appear. The house was tastefully decorated, he noted appreciatively, with none of the “fussiness” often associated with this style of architecture. In fact, the clean, contemporary lines of the furnishings set off the ornate woodwork beautifully, and he found the subtle blending of old and new eminently pleasing. A soft, warm color palette gave the house a homey feel—no small accomplishment for high-ceilinged rooms of such grand proportion. Clearly the house had been decorated by someone with an eye for design and color.

His gaze lingered on the ample fireplace topped by a marble mantle, which took up much of one wall, and he was sorry the month was July instead of January. He wouldn’t mind settling into the large overstuffed chair beside it with a good book on a cold night. There was something…restful…about the room that strongly appealed to him.

As Jake completed his survey, a door swung open at the back of the foyer and a young woman who looked to be about twenty hurried through.

“I thought I heard the bell,” she greeted him breathlessly, her smile apologetic. “I was on the back porch changing a light bulb. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He returned the smile. “Not at all. I was hoping you might have a room for the night. I was trying to make it to Castine, but the weather isn’t cooperating.”

She made a wry face and nodded. “Not exactly Maine at its best,” she concurred sympathetically as she slipped behind a wooden counter that was halfhidden by the curving stairway. “You’re in luck for a room, though. We’re always booked solid in the summer, but we just received a cancellation.” The young woman smiled and handed him a pen. “If you’ll just fill out this card, I’ll help you with your bags.”

“No need. I just have a suit bag. But thanks.”

He provided the requested information quickly, then waited while the young woman selected a key and joined him on the other side of the desk.

“I’ll show you to your room. It has a private bath and a great view of the bay—well, it’s a great view on a clear day,” she amended with a rueful grin over her shoulder as she led the way up the steps. “Maybe by tomorrow morning it will be clear,” she added hopefully. “Anyway, breakfast is between eight and nine in the dining room, which is next to the drawing room. Checkout is eleven. My name’s Allison, and I’ll be on duty till ten if you need anything. Just ring the bell on the desk.” She paused before a second-floor door at the front of the house and inserted the key, then pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him enter.

Jake strolled past her and gave the room a quick but thorough scrutiny. It seemed that the hand of a skilled decorator had been at work here, as well. The room was done in restful shades of blue. A large bay window at the front of the house would afford a panoramic view of the sea in clear weather, he suspected, and a cushioned window seat beckoned invitingly. A four-poster bed, antique writing desk, intricately carved wardrobe and comfortable-looking easy chair with ottoman completed the furnishing. His gaze paused on the fireplace, noting the candle sconces on the mantle, and again he wished it was cool enough for a fire.

“I hope this is all right,” Allison said anxiously.

He turned to her with a smile. “Perfect. The room is very inviting.”

Allison grinned. “My aunt has a way with color and such. Everybody says so. And she makes all the guests feel real welcome. That’s why we have so many regulars. You know, you’re really lucky to get this room. It’s the most requested one. Especially with honeymooners.”

Jake grinned. “I can see why. It’s quite…romantic.”

Allison blushed and fumbled with the doorknob. “Well, if you need anything, just let me know. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. West”

As the door clicked shut, Jake drew a deep breath and stretched tiredly, flexing the tight muscles in his neck. He’d been on the road since early morning, but the time had been well spent. Before he decided to make this area his permanent home, he intended to check it out thoroughly.

He strolled over to the window and stared out thoughtfully into the gray mist Home, he repeated silently. Surprisingly enough, the word had a nice sound. After twelve years of roaming the globe, his worldly possessions following him around in a few small boxes, the thought of having a home, a place to call his own, had a sudden, unexpected appeal. But he shouldn’t be too surprised, he supposed. For the last couple of years he’d been plagued with a vague feeling of restlessness, of emptiness, a sense of “Is this all there is?” Even before his brother’s phone call, the notion of “settling down” had crept into his thoughts, though he’d pushed it firmly aside. It wasn’t something he’d seriously considered—or even wanted to consider—for a very long time. In fact, not since he was engaged to Maggie.