on>
“You’d love it if I just walked out
of here, wouldn’t you?”
Alex demanded.
“Well, get used to having me around, Holly. If you’ll let me have your living-room couch, I’ll take that. No matter how much you protest, I’m not going away until Rico is caught.”
The light in Alex’s eyes told her that he meant every word of what he said. “Don’t get too comfortable on that couch, Wilkins. Because you are spending one night, and one night only, there. Nothing you say will make me happy until you say goodbye.” Holly was pretty sure that was the truth.
So why did it feel as if he was the cavalry riding up to rescue her? She didn’t need rescuing from anything, did she? Most of her said no, but there was a sliver of common sense that told her that yes, she needed rescuing in ways that only Alex could provide.
Safe Harbor—the town where everyone finds shelter from the storm.
LYNN BULOCK
lives in Thousand Oaks, California, with her husband and two sons, a dog and a cat. She has been telling stories since she could talk and writing them down since fourth grade. She is the author of nineteen contemporary romance novels.
The Harbor of His Arms
Lynn Bulock
But those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength. They will soar on wings
like eagles; they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
—Isaiah 40:31
To Joe, my harbor in life’s storms
for over a quarter century. Here’s to another
twenty-five years and more.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
“I owe you big time for this one. Thanks again, Felicity.” Holly Douglas slipped into her down jacket as she headed for the back door of The Bistro. Normally she looked forward to every hour she put in at the upscale restaurant where they both worked, but today she needed the break that Felicity’s offer to cover for her provided.
Her fellow server tossed her mop of honey curls and rolled her eyes. “Oh, get a grip, Holly. I’m not giving blood or anything. Just covering the lunch shift for you on a pretty calm Wednesday. I know you’ll pick up for me the next time the school calls and Jazz is sick. As usual.” Holly recognized Felicity’s expression. It was common to mothers of small children. They both knew that it wasn’t a question of “if” the Safe Harbor Elementary would phone telling her mother that Jasmine Smith was ill. It was only a question of “when.”
“Once you put it that way, it sounds better,” Holly agreed. “But I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful it sounds to go to this meeting today.”
It was hard to put into words what the Safe Harbor Women’s League meant to her. It was especially hard to tell Felicity, who was probably the only woman in town more independent than Holly. But this was the place where Holly drew the line on independence. She might not take charity from the Women’s League, but the company of other understanding women was something she craved once in a while.
She looked out one of the wide windows of The Bistro. “Hope the snow holds off for a while longer. I didn’t wear my boots.”
“And of course you’re walking over to the lighthouse.” Felicity shook her head again. “Tell me you at least have a hat.”
“And gloves. What do you think I am, nuts?” January in Wisconsin was not the time for foolhardy behavior.
Felicity pressed her lips together. “Okay, I’ll try to stop mothering you. Make sure you’re back by six, okay? Jon-Paul says it’s going to be a busy night. Although how he knows this early, I have no idea.”
Holly wasn’t about to argue with her boss, the owner and head chef of The Bistro. Not on what nights would be busy and which ones slack. “He’s good at predicting that. I’ll be sure to get here on time.”
The light gust of wind that caught her in the parking lot made Holly’s cheeks tingle. Surely it was too cold for Safe Harbor to get the snow they’d predicted this morning. At least, she was pretty sure the Green Bay radio station had said snow this far north. It was hard to hear with Conor banging drawers and Aidan howling because he couldn’t find his blue toothbrush. Her boys could drown out any radio station on a good day, and this morning hadn’t started off to be a good day anyway.
It was mornings like this one that she missed Kevin the most. He hadn’t been home every moment when the guys were little, but when he’d been there, he’d been so good with them. Now that they were older and rowdier, it was hard not to resent the fact that she was raising them alone.
Holly tried to find a path to the lighthouse that moved her out of the way of the wind. And while she was at it she tried to put those useless thoughts of Kevin out of her mind. He was gone, and there was no changing the situation. Just like walking into the wind, she had to set her shoulders and brace for the worst.
Opening the heavy wooden door to the community meeting room at the base of the lighthouse took some effort. But the effort was worth the reward as warmth surrounded Holly in more ways than one. All over the entryway to the large, sunny room there were women chatting, shedding coats, hugging each other. Wendy Maguire must have said something interesting over in the corner where she was talking with Elizabeth Neal. The older woman burst out with a laugh and a hug for the younger Wendy.
Holly didn’t have much time to contemplate what was going on in the various corners. She was a little late, as usual. There was just enough time to hang up her coat, pour a warming mug of coffee from the pot set off to one side on a long, narrow wooden table, and find a seat before the Women’s League president, Constance Laughlin, got down to business.
“All right, I’ve let you all gossip on long enough. Who had devotions this morning?” Constance asked. Her stern-sounding words were belied by the expression in her sparkling blue eyes. Her brow wrinkled in confusion when her question brought laughter from the group. “Please, fill me in on the joke.”
Elizabeth Neal was the only one brave enough to speak. “I hate to tell you, Madame President, but last time you volunteered yourself for devotions. To kick off the year and take the burden off anyone else, I believe you said.”
Constance blushed a little, covering her face with her hands. “I believe you’re right. How on earth could I have forgotten that?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Constance. I imagine you’ve hardly had time to get back to normal again since the girls went back home after the holidays.”
“This is true. It’s really