The Harbor of His Arms

“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 different to get a solid night’s sleep again. Joey was teething the whole time Cara and David were here.” Her slightly pained expression reminded Holly that she wasn’t the only one with troubles. Constance’s grandson Joey was named for a grandfather he would never know, since Joseph Laughlin had disappeared years before on a mission trip.

Constance had finished raising their two girls alone and had even started the Safe Harbor Women’s League so that other women wouldn’t have to go through the kind of pain she had alone. “It’s so quiet in the house now that they’re all back in Chicago again. I suppose I could say something using Psalm forty-six.” There was muted laughter around the room among those who knew their Bible well enough to know that Constance was referring to a verse that admonished them all to “be still and know that I am God.”

Holly found herself nodding in agreement. It wasn’t often she had a moment to herself to be still even for the best of reasons, and she imagined it was the same for most of the women in the room. She was sure that managing two small kids way out on the edge of town kept Wendy Maguire busy, especially when her husband, Robert, was on call at the hospital. Annie Simmons didn’t have family to tug her in different directions, but she didn’t have a family to help out either, as she struggled to raise a child and at the same time open the building next door to the lighthouse as a bed-and-breakfast.

Even Elizabeth, retired as the town postmistress, didn’t seem to stay still long enough for much. Every time Holly looked around she was heading some committee or other at First Peninsula Church. And that didn’t begin to touch her work with the Harvest Festival every fall and the untold batches of brownies and pots of soup that seemed to pour out of her kitchen for anybody that needed them.

No, this group of women wasn’t much for being still, Holly reflected. Perhaps it was why she felt so very at home here. There seemed precious little time for her to be still these days, and she despaired of knowing when there would be such a time in the future. She couldn’t imagine one. Not with two active boys to raise and a life to hold together alone. It certainly wasn’t what she’d planned or envisioned when she married Kevin.

He’d been in the police academy when they met, and on the force in Chicago by the time they married. So there had always been the haunting thought in the back of her mind that something could happen. Kevin always said that went with the territory. He tried to ease her fears as much as possible. In the end it hadn’t done any good, because the worst had happened. Holly shook away her dire thoughts and tried to pay attention to what Constance was saying at the lectern.

She seemed to be calling for reports from the other officers of the Women’s League. Wendy joined her with a large smile on her face. “I’m happy to report that all the different accounts in the treasury balance, so I’m making my final report as treasurer with a clean slate. Elizabeth, you should be able to understand all my entries and see where everything went. I even tracked down that missing $2.98 in the hospitality fund, so you won’t have that plaguing you when you take office.”

“Great,” Elizabeth called from the front row of chairs. “Should I make a motion to accept your final report as written?”

“Please do. I have one more announcement before I end my term as treasurer.” Wendy seemed to be a little flushed. “It seems that this term handling the financial records of the organization strengthened my math skills. At least in the area of addition.”

Holly wondered if what Wendy was hinting about was actually true. She was saved from asking anything by Wendy volunteering the information. “It appears Robert and I are going to have another baby. According to my husband’s medical expertise, there’s going to be a fifth Maguire some time in July.”

There were congratulations and applause around the room. Holly wondered if she was a terrible person for her strong but mixed feelings. Wendy’s announcement made a wave of jealousy wash over her at the thought of the other woman, not that much older than she, who had the luxury of an intact home and a loving husband and a brand-new baby on the way. But at the same time she had to acknowledge the equally strong wave of relief that swept her, as well. Relief that it was someone else dealing with the rigors of pregnancy while also dealing with the daily life of a household and small children.

Any thought of the business meeting continuing evaporated for a while as everybody surrounded Wendy, talking about the days to come and asking her questions. So far she seemed healthy, she told them, and Robert seemed confident that she could look forward to a normal pregnancy and birth. “As normal as it gets when you’re thirty-four and are chasing two little people.”

“Make sure he takes some time off and gives you plenty of help,” Elizabeth admonished. “Healthy or not, it won’t be easy in your situation.”

“I’ve been talking to him about that. And he may even be listening,” Wendy said, her grin making the freckles spanning her cheeks dance. “Ask me in another week or two and I might have news on that front, too.”

Elizabeth nodded in approval. “I hope that means that your overworked husband might actually be getting help for himself. Heaven knows it’s overdue.”

Constance started rapping the gavel, which no one ever paid any attention to, on the polished cherry lectern in front of her. “All right, maybe we can get back to business. Or at least let Wendy sit down and put her feet up so we don’t tax her in her delicate condition.”

Wendy looked as if she was threatening to stick out her tongue at Constance’s suggestion. “I’m about as delicate as a plow horse, according to Robert. But I wouldn’t mind sitting down for a while. Who else do we have to hear from?”

The business portion of the meeting went on for a while, and Constance got the group to stick to topic almost enough to have lunch on time. Still, it was nearly two by the time Holly was putting on her coat and getting ready to walk back to the parking lot of The Bistro to get her car and head for the grade school to pick up the boys.

That round of activity, ending with mounting the latest finger-painted treasures on the refrigerator in the apartment, took a solid hour. By three-fifteen Holly was fixing a snack for the impatient boys while they told her about their day.

They were both talking at once, sometimes finishing each other’s sentences, sometimes vaulting off in totally different directions in two conversations. It never seemed to bother them. Trying to sort it all out, Holly wished she had some background with twins to help cope with her wild boys.

Aidan, slightly the taller of the two, who’d inherited more of Kevin’s ruddy complexion and whose dark hair bore a distinctly reddish cast, was regaling her with things that had gone on during their outside recess after lunch. “And there were icicles hanging on the building, and Mrs. Baker said, ‘Don’t go over there,’ so nobody did, which is good because when the sun came out one of them fell down crash! And it broke into about a million pieces, Mom.”

“It was loud and it sparkled.” Conor’s observation was simpler and quieter, like Conor. Slightly shorter than his brother, and without the expansive gestures of his twin, Conor always seemed to think for a moment or two longer before he spoke. He let Aidan take the lead if anything physical needed to be done, but Holly noticed that in areas where words were needed, Aidan let Conor do the talking.

“But no one was hurt, right?” Holly was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she also knew what was important to both of her boys. They were both sensitive to the pain of others, and even the threat of anger or bloodshed disturbed them. They had been nowhere near their father’s death, and too young to understand it, probably, if they had been, but still they’d absorbed something of the trauma of the adults around them. Holly felt as if she dealt every day with a little bit of that impact life had had on her boys.

“Nobody was hurt. Because we all listened to the teacher.” Aidan puffed out his chest, as proud of his class and their actions as if he’d had something to do with everyone doing the right thing.

“Good,” his mother said, ruffling his soft hair. “You keep listening to her, understand?”

“Okay. Can we have peanut butter on crackers?” Conor was finished with the events of the day and was ready to move on to something more important, like the state of his stomach.

Before she knew it, the boy’s favorite baby-sitter was at the door and Holly needed to finish getting ready for work.

She gave Brett the instructions he needed and kissed the boys goodbye. It did her heart good to see that they barely noticed she was leaving.

Even in the snow that had started to fall it didn’t take long to get from the apartment complex to The Bistro. Holly could see that Jon-Paul had been right in his predictions. It was still a little before six, and there were already a good number of cars in the lot.

“All right! Even five minutes early,” Felicity crowed. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

Holly scrunched up her nose. “I’m not that predictably late, am I? Don’t answer that.” The grin on Felicity’s face answered for her.

They went over the evening’s specials together and Jon-Paul filled her in on the few changes he’d made during preparation of the night’s featured dishes. Felicity’s hand was on the swinging door between the kitchen and the dining room when she turned back to look at Holly. “I almost forgot—you already have one customer. A fairly good-looking younger guy came in alone and asked specifically for one of your tables. He said he’d wait for you no matter when you showed up.”

“That’s odd. I can’t imagine who that would be.”

“No old flames or anything?”

“Not a clue.” Holly couldn’t even think of anybody who knew she was in Safe Harbor, Wisconsin, who fit Felicity’s description. A growing dread told her that anyone looking for her here couldn’t mean good things. She tried to push the feeling away and listen to what Felicity was saying about the stranger.

“He asked for coffee, and I’ve refilled it once. But otherwise he said he’d wait for you.” Felicity went out to check on her own tables, and Holly got ready for her mystery customer and the rest of the evening rush. She looked at the specials board again, trying to commit everything to memory.

The swinging door whooshed behind her as she entered the dining room. The inside of The Bistro looked like the perfect place to be on a wintry night like this. The fire in the big brick fireplace cast a cozy glow on the big dining room. Surely no place this welcoming and cozy could hold danger.

At the corner table in “her” section, a man sat with his back to her, and his back to the fire. Holly didn’t recognize him right away from his back view, with his neatly cut sandy-brown hair and nondescript jacket.

“Hi, welcome to The Bistro. My name is Holly and I’ll be your server this evening. Would you like to hear our specials?” She got the whole spiel out before she made eye contact with the stranger and her world collapsed in a split second.

Chapter Two

“You don’t look glad to see me.” Alex Wilkins figured that was the understatement of the century. Holly Douglas looked horrified. She had barely kept from dropping the leatherette case holding her order pad, and the pen she had grasped in her other hand slid to the floor.

He almost wished her dark hair hadn’t been swept back away from her face. Maybe if she’d had the luxury of letting it cover her flushed cheeks she could have pretended to be more glad to see him. Even that was doubtful.

Sitting in the cushy booth in this romantic restaurant, reducing a woman to tears by his very presence, Alex decided he definitely hated his job. Nobody was ever glad to see him. It was like being a dentist who only did root canals. No, they all knew it was bad news or an arrest warrant when he was there. Even his own superiors weren’t that happy to see him most days. Since as one of their lead investigators they handed him only the complicated stuff, they were usually in foul moods even before he got to them.

“You’re right. I’m not glad to see you.” Holly’s soft voice, choked with emotion, broke into his thoughts. “This can’t be a social call. Nobody drives over sixty miles in January just to visit in this neck of the woods.”

“Sounds like you’re fitting in with the locals real well. Wish I could tell you that a social call was all I was here for. I’d love to be able to say I made this drive just to check up on you.” Alex watched her face while he spoke to her.

The woman might have been married to a cop, but she hadn’t picked up a cop’s habits. She still wore her emotions for all to see. Including that flutter of hope when she thought for a split second that seeing him didn’t mean more bad news.

“Of course you didn’t. That would make my life too easy. And life right now is never easy.” Holly snapped open that order pad again. “But you better be on the county’s expense account, because I can’t stand here and chat all night with somebody who’s not ordering dinner.”

“Steak. Medium rare. With a baked potato—none of that trendy garlic-mashed, goat cheese stuff.” That got the first ghost of a smile out of her he’d seen. “And a salad, if it’s going to be made up of things I can recognize.”

“For you, I’ll have Jon-Paul put together his famous NWS special.”

“Okay, you have me interested. What’s that?”

This time the smile flashed into an honest grin, and Alex was reminded that Holly Douglas was a young woman, not even thirty. Only the care and trouble of the past few years had dimmed the natural beauty in the planes of her face. “The No Weed Salad. A nice chunk of iceberg flat on a plate with Thousand Island dressing.”

“Make it blue cheese and you have a deal.”

“Will do. And Alex? I have plenty to do for the next three hours. So don’t expect any more attention than the rest of my customers.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a good tipper, even when the county isn’t paying. And things are mostly okay, Holly. I just have a little news you’re not going to want to hear. It will keep until you get done with your shift.”

She looked visibly relieved. Alex felt bad for a split second for trivializing what he’d been sent here to tell her. Holly wouldn’t look that happy again for quite some time once she heard what he had to say. Still, there was no sense upsetting her when she had work to do. Having another three hours of blissful ignorance of the latest happenings in Cook County, Illinois, wouldn’t change Holly’s life in the long run. And it would give Alex a little more time to figure out how to break the news that this new life they’d set up for her might all be tumbling down.

While he thought about what he was going to say, Alex scanned the large room that made up the main dining area of The Bistro. He wondered how Holly went to work here every day. The place was designed for couples to sit at the tufted leather booths, leaning over flickering candlelight. At some of the larger tables there were family groups, or bunches of friends, all of whom would have reminded him on a daily basis of what he was missing as a single adult. And Holly wasn’t single by choice.

Kevin Douglas should still be doing his job on the force, coming home at night to his pretty wife and active kids. They had twins, didn’t they? It was what Alex remembered, and he struggled to recall how old the boys would be now. Old enough to realize that their daddy wasn’t coming back, that was for sure. And old enough to realize something was up when he came home with their mother tonight. Alex hoped they’d be tucked into bed before he went home with Holly. That way there would be one less scene in the course of the evening.

“Tell Jon-Paul that his salad was superb. Almost as good as his steak,” Alex said two hours later as he stretched his legs out under the table.

“I will. Does all this praise mean you don’t have any room for a piece of apple pie?”

“Nobody ever said that. Think you could swing a scoop of ice cream on top, too?”

“Sure. We even have homemade cinnamon ice cream. I know it’s not the traditional vanilla, but you have to let Jon-Paul have his flourish someplace, don’t you? He gets cranky if all his artful touches are denied.”

“Cinnamon ice cream I can handle. Especially after he went to all the trouble to make the rest of the meal as fuss free as possible.”

“Coffee? For most folks I’d suggest decaf this late at night, but I don’t suppose you’re interested.”