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She’d buried her chance for love when they lowered Pax’s coffin into the earth at Arlington National Cemetery.
Weston propped his elbows on the window. “Thanks for taking Caroline into Kiptohanock. The completion of the marine animal rescue center is at a critical juncture, and with her car on the fritz...”
“No problem. Opening day still set for May?”
He grinned. “If my beloved aquatic veterinarian wife has anything to say about it, then yes.”
Redheaded Izzie launched herself at the open window. “Hey, Aunt Kristina.”
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite niece.” Kristina winked. “Hey, yourself.”
Izzie giggled. “I’m your only niece, Aunt Kristina.”
Auburn-haired Caroline nudged aside her husband with her hip. “I hate to further impose, but could we drop off Izz at my sister Amelia’s house? With today being a teacher workday...”
Weston made a face. “And I’m on deadline with an engineering project for a Baltimore client.”
Kristina held up her hand. “Say no more. Gray’s moping at my house, too.”
Of course, he hadn’t moped until she grounded him for sneaking over to the airfield.
“You need me to bring them home, Wes?”
Weston rapped a beat with his palms on the car door. “I’ll finish in time to bring my girls home.”
His girls. Kristina bit back a sigh. She’d been loved like that once.
Izzie hugged her dad goodbye. “Maybe Gray could come play with Max and me.”
Max—Caroline’s nephew and all-around Kiptohanock mischief maker. Gray would consider being left with a bunch of ten-year-olds nothing short of babysitting.
Caroline smoothed a strand of Izzie’s hair. “I’m sure Gray has high school stuff to do, ladybug.”
The little girl chattered nonstop until they dropped her off at the Dutch-roof farmhouse Max’s dad, Braeden Scott—commander of the Kiptohanock Coast Guard station—had recently purchased for his growing family.
Kristina’s hands tightened on the wheel. With Gray usually at school, time moved in slow motion for her. Too often leaving her feeling without purpose and alone.
She cleared her throat. “You’ve made my brother and Izzie so happy, Caroline. Thank you.”
“My pleasure entirely.” A sweet smile curved Caroline’s lips. “They’ve made me so happy.”
Happiness seemed forever out of reach for Kristina.
“There’ve been adjustments.” Caroline stashed her purse on the floorboard beside her foot. “A good marriage requires work.” She raised her gaze to meet Kristina’s. “You know how it is. Letting go of the past with its fears and building something new together. Hard, but good work.”
Letting go of the fear... Kristina’s problem in a clamshell.
She slowed the car as they approached the town limits of oceanside Kiptohanock. “Including throwing my lovable but high-energy niece into the equation, too.”
Caroline smiled. “Life is never dull with Izzie. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothing worth keeping is ever easy. But in the long run, a risk so worth taking.”
Relationships. Risk. Was that arrogant crop duster—aerial application specialist—correct? Was Kristina risking her relationship with her son because of fear?
She steered the vehicle toward the waterfront. The town librarian passed the gazebo on the village green. Caroline threw out her hand in greeting.
“Evy Pruitt,” Caroline added by way of explanation. “Newly married to Deputy Sheriff Charlie Pruitt.”
After years of moving from one base to the next, Kristina loved the small-town friendliness. “Evy’s also Sawyer Kole’s sister, right? And therefore your other sister Honey’s sister-in-law. Got it.”
Which in the hospitable South made the young librarian not only kin by marriage to Caroline, but in a weirdly, endearing kind of way kin to Kristina, too.
Bypassing the Sandpiper Café and the Coast Guard station, Kristina nosed the car into a parking space along the seawall outside the former seafood-processing building. Power tools buzzed as the renovations on the aquatic center neared completion.
Caroline opened the door. “Thanks, Kristina.”
“Before you go...”
Caroline paused, one foot on the ground.
Kristina took a breath. “I wondered if you might have heard anything about the crop—” She moistened her lips. “I mean, the aerial application specialist out my way. Canyon Collier.”
Caroline’s brown eyes narrowed. “What has he done? Is he bothering you? If so, Weston will—”
“It’s not that. Collier offered Gray a part-time job at the airfield, and I wanted to find out more before I agreed.”
“He and his brother were ahead of me by a few grades in high school.” Caroline’s eyes dropped to her shoes. “And we didn’t run in the same circles.”
Kristina’s lips tightened. “By your tone, I’m sensing their circles ran toward trouble.”
Caroline let out a breath. “I’m the last person in the world to cast stones, but one of the Colliers got into big trouble back then. I don’t remember which brother.”
Kristina’s heart thumped. “You mean trouble with the law?”
“Like I said, I don’t remember which brother. They left the Shore soon after. By force or choice, I don’t know. One went into the Coast Guard, though.”
Kristina assumed that would be Canyon Collier. Maybe where he acquired his aviation skills.
“I don’t know much about the one who returned.” Caroline cocked her head. “Given my own history of being a black sheep prodigal, I’m inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Whether he deserves it or not?”
Caroline nodded. “Whether he deserves it or not. But by all accounts, this Collier has built a solid agribusiness with the local farmers. A good pilot, I’ve heard. A trustworthy businessman.”
“But what about Gray working there?” Kristina bit her lip. “This job and this guy have become important to Gray.”
Uncomfortably important to her son. But if she were honest, she was equally disturbed by the fluttery feeling the man had evoked in her as well.
Caroline turned toward the whine of a drill inside the building. “You should talk to Evy’s brother, Sawyer. He’s the general contractor on the renovation. I’ve seen him and Collier hanging out at the Sandpiper over Long John doughnuts.”
Or maybe it would also be wise to talk to Evy Pruitt’s deputy sheriff husband.
Caroline unfolded from the car. “And of course, you must pray about what to do.”
Kristina’s gaze skittered to the white clapboard church whose steeple brushed the sky above the harbor. How could she tell her sister-in-law that since Pax died, her prayers felt as if they bounced off a Teflon ceiling?
Where was God when Pax was killed? Had God been off duty when she was widowed? What kind of Father would leave Gray without a father?
But she couldn’t say those things to Caroline, whose own rediscovered faith had been wrested from a dark abyss of despair. Kristina fidgeted in her seat at her blasphemous thoughts. She’d been raised to put her trust and hope in God.
Which was exactly the problem. Her trust had been shattered and her hope as lost as Pax’s plane. Even worse, she didn’t know how to get them back. And she wasn’t unaware that her faith had ebbed at the same rate the fear had taken hold.
Caroline closed the car door with a soft click. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Kristina. I’m so thankful God gave me a do-over, despite the bad choices I made in the past.”
Everyone deserved a second chance. Until they didn’t. Kristina backed out of the parking space. Did that include her, too?
* * *
Canyon wrapped his hands around the steering wheel of the Jeep Cherokee. The tension was palpable enough to cut with a propeller. He shot a furtive look at the sixteen-year-old girl beside him.
Shoulders hunched, Jade stared out the window at the passing scenery. She was no longer the little girl he remembered. But then, he’d last laid eyes on her almost a decade ago.
He should’ve tried harder. With a mother like Jade’s, he should’ve kept in touch. But keeping in touch meant entangling complications. Cords binding him to a past he’d rather forget. Snares he thought he’d left behind when he ditched the Shore after high school and enlisted in the Coast Guard.
Canyon rubbed his hand over his face. Jade swiveled. They locked eyes for a moment.
The vulnerability in her green eyes punched him in the gut. The fear in her gaze, however, was swiftly replaced by the all too familiar anger Jade wore like a cloak around her thin shoulders. For Canyon, guilt surged anew.
How had he let himself get talked into the guardianship of a belligerent adolescent he barely recognized? Kristina Montgomery had hit the nail on the head earlier—what did he know about parenting?
Especially parenting a teenage girl. This was going to be a disaster. None of this ought to be his responsibility. He let out a sigh.
“This isn’t something either you or I wanted.” Jade waved her hand. “Take me to the ferry. I’ll go to the mainland. Child Protective Services will be none the wiser.”
He gripped the wheel. “And exactly how do you think you’d survive alone over there?”
“Just like I fended for myself before getting nabbed by the police.”
“You were arrested because you broke the law by shoplifting, Jade.”
Those green eyes of hers smoldered. “It was a pack of beef jerky.”
“Why did you do it, Jade? To prove you could? For a dare?”
“I—I...” She turned to the window. “I was hungry. Brandi had spent her paycheck, and I hadn’t seen her in a week.”
Another punch to his solar plexus. He could only imagine how Brandi—Jade’s so-called mother—had spent the meager salary she earned at the Gas and Go Quick Stop. At the image of Jade on the streets alone, something inside him twisted.
Far too reminiscent of what had happened to him and Jade’s father, Beech, before their mom dropped them off at their grandma’s in Kiptohanock and did everyone a favor by never coming back.
“I guarantee you won’t go hungry.” His voice was gruff. “But like it or not, you’re stuck with me, kid.”
From the set expression on her face, he concluded she liked it about as much as him. Still, he was supposed to be the grown-up.
“It’s going to be all right, Jade.”
She snorted. “Since when has anything ever been right for Colliers?”
And that—he heaved another sigh—was the long and short of it.
When he pulled off the highway onto Seaside Road, he gave her the ten-cent tour of town. Circling the square with the gazebo, he pointed out all-important landmarks like the library.
She tossed her long black, magenta-streaked hair over her shoulder. “I don’t read.”
“You mean you don’t like to read.”
Rounding one side of the square, he gestured to the church.
Prompting a churlish sneer from Jade. “So not happening.”
He felt a surge of churlishness coming on himself. “You’ll do what I tell you to do, Jade.”
Which was about as effective as when his grandmother used to lay down the law for him and Beech. His grandmother had been right about church, though. It hadn’t hurt him.
“It’s a good way to get to know others your age in the community.”
Jade gave him a nice view of her back and didn’t bother to reply.
Fighting for patience, he pointed out the Coast Guard station, where flags fluttered. Recreational and commercial fishing boats bobbed in the harbor. He pulled into an empty space in front of the Sandpiper Café and cut the engine.
“Why are we stopping?”
“For the famous Long John doughnuts. They’re the best.”
She glared. “I repeat, why are we stopping?”
He reminded himself for the hundredth time since the social worker had called last week, he was the adult. And he needed to act like one.
Canyon rested his arms on the steering wheel. “This is where the locals hang out. This is where you get to redefine yourself, Jade. It’s a pretty little town. With lots of great people.”
“The same people who ran you and Beech out of town.”
He’d never once heard Jade call Beech father. Canyon knew enough to realize his feckless younger sibling had never earned the title.
“I came back because it’s a good place to live.” He let his shoulders rise and fall. “It’s the closest to home this Collier could find.”
Again, Jade curled her lip. “And courtesy of the Accomack County Sheriff’s Department, Beech found his new home in prison.”
“That was Beech’s own doing, Jade. I wouldn’t like to see you travel the same path. Kiptohanock is your chance for a new beginning.”
“Since when does anybody give Colliers like us second chances?”
Hardheadedness apparently being an unfortunate Collier family trait.
Canyon raked his hand over his head. “That’s exactly what I’m giving you, Jade. A chance to start over. You can be anything you want to be. Choose to be smarter than the rest of us sooner. How about doughnuts and a Coca-Cola float?”
He had it on good authority—his friend Sawyer Kole, ex-Coastie and now happily married father of five-month-old Daisy—that all kids loved ice cream and sugar.
But Jade refused to get out of the Jeep.
He gritted his teeth. Sawyer better enjoy his precious baby girl, because Canyon had news for him—parenting promised to only get rockier from there.
Exasperated, he swung open the car door. “More for me then.”
If this was a sign of things to come, it was going to be a long two years until she turned eighteen.
He moved toward the glass-fronted diner. Who was he kidding? He and Jade would be fortunate to survive together till Easter.
And his eyes flickered toward the cross atop the steeple. Jade—not the Coast Guard or flying airplanes—might make a praying man out of him yet.
Chapter Three
Hands folded in her lap, Kristina glanced around the ladies’ parlor at the members of the church altar guild. She wasn’t sure why she’d come to the Easter planning meeting this morning. But while living the vagabond life of a military wife, she’d often longed for a place to establish roots.
Especially for Gray. He hadn’t been the type of child who adjusted well to a new school every few years. Bookish, a video geek, he didn’t make friends easily.
Nor did she. It was simpler not to reach out. Or face the inevitable sorrow of parting with friends when Pax was restationed.
But this time she wanted things to be different. This was a new start for them. Kiptohanock, a place to make a real home. After Pax died, she’d moved across the country to the Shore to be near Weston.
The Eastern Shore of Virginia was a narrow peninsula separating the Chesapeake Bay from the Atlantic Ocean. Isolated. Not as readily accessible to the rest of the continental United States.
Her grandfather had been the last lighthouse keeper before the Coast Guard decommissioned the lighthouse in the 1950s. But her family had returned each summer. She possessed fond memories of those idyllic beach days and wanted Gray to know the same.
Small-town life. A caring community. After a lifetime of following Pax around the world.
Here, Gray had a chance to know what it meant to be part of a close-knit family. To watch summer fireflies. To clam. To fish. Before he left her forever.
So when she read the announcement in the church bulletin inviting anyone interested in serving on the altar guild to attend a planning meeting, she’d decided to give it a try. To make new friends. To get involved in community life.
Now she wasn’t so sure. The encounter with Canyon Collier had left her feeling oddly exposed. She shrugged off the vague feelings of vulnerability. Anyone would be shaken after almost being run over by an airplane. And she pushed the incident to the nether regions of her mind.
Her gaze traveled over the ladies at the meeting. Sixtysomething Mrs. Davenport held court in a brocade armchair strategically placed at the unofficial head of the room. According to Caroline, Mrs. Davenport was a social force to be reckoned with in Kiptohanock.
Librarian Evy Pruitt perched in a nearby chair. The pastor’s wife, Agnes Parks, smiled at Kristina while Mrs. Davenport waxed on about Lenten altar cloths. And there was also Caroline’s sister, Honey Kole. She owned the Duer Fisherman’s Lodge. Her darling baby daughter dozed in her car seat on the carpet at Honey’s feet.
Kristina bit off a sigh. She’d always wanted more children. But Pax had been deployed so often that he thought after Gray was born, one child was enough.
Honey played with the pearls at her throat. “What about breakfast after the Easter sunrise service?”
The other ladies hid their smiles behind teacups. And Kristina got the distinct impression if anyone was likely to challenge Mrs. Davenport’s leadership, Honey Duer Kole might be the one to do it.
Which was fine. Kristina had no social aspirations. By nature, she was more worker bee than queen bee.
An officer’s wife learned early to tune in to the fine nuances of base politics. It was how you furthered your husband’s career, kept your family intact and survived the long deployments with fellow military wives.
Finally, the discussion shifted to the topic Kristina was interested in—the altar flowers. Bending, Honey smoothed the pink blanket tucked around her daughter. “It’s so inconvenient to have to travel out of town for floral arrangements.”
Mrs. Davenport peered over the top of her purple reading glasses. “And considering the expense, it behooves us to find another solution.”
Behooves? Mrs. Davenport reminded Kristina of the high-society clients with whom she’d worked as a part-time floral assistant during her college days in Richmond.
“The inn’s garden won’t be at its best till May.” Honey’s lips pursed. “What about your garden?”
Mrs. Davenport—the only one in casual, coastal Kiptohanock to wear purple tweed—lifted her chin. “Inglenook will also not be in full bloom until Garden Week in May.”
Kristina had never actually known anyone whose house had a name.
Honey gave Mrs. Davenport a measured look. “Which, of course, works out perfectly for you.”
Mrs. Davenport sniffed. “Inglenook has taken the Garden of the Year award for the last five years.”
“Perhaps not this year.” Honey batted her lashes. “It’s probably best not to count your trophies before they bloom.”
Kristina’s mouth twitched. Garden divas. Got it. Stay out of the fray.
Mrs. Parks shook her head. “Ladies, let’s get back to decorating the sanctuary of the Lord this Sunday.”
As if taking on a life of its own, Kristina lifted her hand. “What about an arrangement of sasanqua camellia? I have several bushes in bloom right now...” Horrified, she dropped her hand into her lap.
What on earth had possessed her to violate her personal policy of always flying under the radar? Rule one in navigating tricky social hierarchies—keep a low profile.
Evy leaned forward, her trademark heels planted on the pine floor. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Her ponytail swished as she angled toward Mrs. Davenport. “Don’t you, Margaret?”
Mrs. Davenport stared at Kristina. “Do I know you?”
“Kristina Montgomery,” she whispered and knotted her fingers in her lap. “My son, Gray, and I just moved to Kiptohanock.”
Margaret Davenport’s nose wrinkled. “A ‘come here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She was whispering again. “Weston Clark’s sister.”
“Which makes you related to the Duers.” Mrs. Davenport pinched her lips together. “By marriage.”
Already she’d fallen afoul of village politics. Blacklisted by association.
Honey bristled. “As is Evy.”
Margaret Davenport, also known as the Kiptohanock grapevine, had a soft spot for the young librarian. Behind her fashionable horn-rimmed glasses, Evy’s blue eyes sparkled.
Honey placed her palms on the armrests. “Which makes Evy my sister, too.” She threw Mrs. Davenport a small smile. “By marriage.”
Kristina should’ve asked Caroline, her sister by marriage, to draw Kiptohanock family trees to avoid any genealogical land mines.
Mrs. Davenport steepled her hands under her chin. “And where exactly do you live, Kristina Montgomery?”
“Outside town. Toward Locustville. I bought the Collier house.”
Mrs. Davenport fluttered her hand. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Eileen Collier’s garden used to be a showplace.” Her lip curled. “Before that no-good grandson of hers made her a recluse.”
Canyon Collier, the no-good grandson? Despite how she appreciated him taking Gray to task regarding his attitude, unease needled Kristina. She needed to find out more about her attractive pilot neighbor. For Gray’s sake, of course.
“The camellias sound lovely.” The reverend’s wife smiled. “What about the other Sundays of Lent leading to Easter, ladies?”
Kristina raised her hand again. “I have a garden border, mostly of fragrant old-fashioned violets.”
Her eyes widened. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?
Yet she held her hands in front of herself to demonstrate. “We could place the violets in tiny frogs and group them around the base of the cross—”
“Purple violets would match the altar cloth.” Mrs. Davenport uncoiled a smidgen. “And in my considerable experience, anyone who knows about a floral frog can’t be all bad.”
Not a ringing endorsement, but nevertheless...
Evy swiveled. “What’s a frog?”
Mrs. Davenport motioned for Kristina to continue.
She took a breath. “Frogs are used in the bottom of vases and bowls to hold flowers upright in an arrangement. The frogs are usually made in a woven grid of wire spikes. Or a frog can be a round glass disk with holes. Popular in the 1940s, ’50s and ’60s.” She flushed and fell silent.
Honey nodded. “Do you have any frogs we could use for the altar arrangement?”
Kristina didn’t usually talk so much. She was far more comfortable fading into the background. But flowers were a passion of hers. “I have my grandmother’s collection of vintage frogs. Colored Depression glass.”
“Depression glass?” Mrs. Davenport’s eyes lit. “I love Depression glass.” She waved a beringed hand. “In fact, I collect those myself.”
The baby stirred in her car seat. Honey lifted Daisy and cuddled the child in her arms. “Sounds wonderful. Anything else blooming in your garden, Kristina?”
Kristina tilted her head, thinking out loud. “I have white and mauve Lenten roses. Some blooming daphne also.”
Mrs. Davenport’s steely gaze softened. “Lenten roses for the Good Friday service. What could be more appropriate?” A frown creased her brow. “But with my work at the library, I’m not sure I could get to your house and put together a bouquet this week.”
Evy patted Mrs. Davenport’s arm. “You’re always saying how you’re too busy because of social obligations. Why not put Kristina in charge of the altar flowers this Lenten season?”
The newlywed librarian winked at Kristina. “Anyone who knows the Latin name for a camellia probably can be trusted to arrange the flowers.”
Agnes Parks straightened. “An excellent idea. After all, you promised to help me run the Easter egg hunt on the square, Margaret.”
Mrs. Davenport’s eyes narrowed as if she suspected an attempted coup. “That is true.” She scowled at Kristina. “We have high standards here in Kiptohanock, Mrs. Montgomery.”
Kristina gulped. “I’ll do my best not to let you down, Mrs. Davenport.”
Mrs. Davenport became brisk. “Then that item on today’s agenda is settled.” As she shuffled the pages in her lap, her eyes took on a gleam. “I have some ideas to make this year’s pancake supper at the firehouse even more successful than last year. But it will require every hand on deck.”
Filled with sudden self-doubt, Kristina wondered what she’d done. She wasn’t a professional florist. Gray’s sarcastic remarks about her competence, or lack thereof, replayed in her head. But she loved flowers and always felt most at ease in a garden.