A Discovery of Hope (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 3) (23 page)

“I can make my own plate, Mr. Caveman.” Julia tries to pull her plate away from Greyson and he actually lets out a growl,
sounding
like a caveman. She gives in and lets him load her down with more food than she could possibly eat. I notice she’s not rail-thin as she used to be, but she is still considerably skinny.

JP allows me to make my own, so I’m guessing that is just a Greyson-Julia thing—thank goodness. We claim the table near Duke, Savannah, Lucas, Sammy, Miss May and a few of her family members. I’ve noticed this weekend how Duke always lingers close to Savannah. He may not call her mom or Lucas dad, but the respect and love is evident. And there’s no hiding how crazy Savannah and Lucas are about their three sons.

Duke offers me a flirty wink as we pass, and JP punches him in the arm. They are definitely more like rowdy brothers than Uncle and nephew. I think this has become a game between the two—flirt with Willow and try not to get caught and punched.

We all sit down and dive into the tasty meal. Well, all of us except Julia. She mainly picks at her food. I almost swoon, though, as I witness her accept bites Greyson offers her from his fork every so often during the meal. It’s such an intimate, loving gesture—him taking care of his wife. I want to pull my camera out of the case and capture this, but my hands are slightly greasy.

As the plates empty, the area begins to swell with the sounds of beach music. I crack up laughing when an older lady pulls my purple-haired friend to the middle of the cleared floor and they set out in the Carolina Shag. He’s so large and brawny compared to her grey-haired petite self, but boy can Duke cut a rug with her. This dance is languid and smooth and I’m utterly surprised that he even knows this one. It’s an old traditional dance that is famous along the Grand Strand.

“All right, sweetheart. We gotta show them up.” JP pulls me to the makeshift dancefloor.

“I don’t know how to Shag.”

“I’ll lead. You’ll do fine,” he says confidently as he places me before him. Holding my right hand with his left, JP widens the gap between us and easily sets out with the steps. Watching his feet for several beats, I finally get the hang of it. My dance partner twirls me occasionally and we dance leisurely as The Embers sing “I Love Beach Music” with JP singing along.

“Okay, buddy. Spill the beans. How do you and your family know these songs and this ancient dance?”

“This dance isn’t ancient, and we were raised listening to this music. My dad would break out dancing with my mom all the time. It was their thing, and all of the parties here have always included this.” JP twirls me out again to emphasize his point.

The floor crowds more and we dance the afternoon away until Miss May presents Duke with a massive purple cake and everyone tucks into the dessert spread that seems to materialize out of thin air. As we finish up, I’m surprised again, when an auction for Duke’s paintings begins. I glance over and find him shocked as well. The auction is declared the Duke College Fund and people take it seriously, too. The bids skyrocket to obscene amounts and by the end, I have succeeded in snatching two of his masterpieces for my own.

Duke meets up with me as I go to claim the large painting of the seashore. I can already see it in the dining room at the beach bungalow. I think JP will approve. The other is a gift for my mom. It’s a simple silhouette of a woman’s leg peeking from the edge of a wingback chair. The draw to the art piece is the stiletto on her dainty foot. It closely resembles the leopard print Louboutin peep-toes with the signature red sole my mom owns. Julia started bidding against me until JP pinned her arms down. Greyson just sat there and laughed at the two siblings wrestling around while I jumped up and down with victory. I purchased it with the idea of really working on my reconciliation with my mom. Not out of duty, but out of want. I want my mom in any form I can take. I’ve changed and I need to accept that she has also changed.

I smile approvingly at my friend as I claim my loot.

“I would have painted you the world, Willow Carter, for
free
.” He crosses his arms and looks at me sternly.

Yes, I just paid a small fortune, but this guy is worth every penny.

“This is an investment.” I hold them up. “These babies will only appreciate in value. Just think, one day soon I can say I knew that hip purple-headed artist when…” I openly swoon for affect.

Duke shakes his head and relieves me of the photos. “To JP’s?” he asks as he holds them up slightly.

“Please.” I lean in and place a kiss on his cheek. It’s what he normally does, but this has rubbed off on me.

“Easy there, woman. You gonna get me punched again.”

I let out a quick snort. “You like egging him on and you know it.”

Duke glances over my shoulder, and then cuts me a sly look before placing a kiss on my cheek and hightails it.

“Dude!” JP says from behind me. I turn around and find him shaking his head with a smile on his face. “Let’s go,” he says as he places my hand in his and heads for the door.

We walk back to the Jeep, but JP surprises me when he continues past it. “Where are you going?”

“It’s sunset. We need to go see how the beach and ocean are accepting the end of another day.”

“Wow, JP. That was poetic.”

He glances sidelong with a soft smile on his face, but doesn’t comment. We reach the beach and ocean a few minutes later, and pause to remove our shoes.

As JP rolls the bottom of his suit pants up, I ask, “Won’t your pants get ruined?”

“Nah. Savannah grabs up my laundry on Mondays. She’ll get them dry-cleaned.”

I look at him skeptically, but make no comment. I get over the worrying about his clothes and pull my camera out of the case so I can capture this gorgeous man, in a suit no less, on the beach. This is definitely a rare sight.

“Don’t waste a photo on me.” JP points out over the ocean that has deep orange hues dancing along the waves. “That’s what you should be capturing.”

I continue to capture
him
as he talks. “A man in a suit on the beach. I can’t pass this up.”

JP chuckles deeply. “Too bad I don’t have my surfboard. Now that would be a picture!”

“That it would.” I lower my camera as he draws near.

Lowering his head, JP presses a faint kiss on my lips. I think it’s the sweetest thing until I feel him snag the camera out of my hand. Next thing I know, he’s turned it on me. I try to grab it back, but he’s on guard and easily keeps it away from me.

After goofing off for the longest time, JP captures the day ending over the ocean. Our time on the beach concludes with an impromptu lesson, with him showing me different angles and settings that are suited for this time of the day.

Later, as we stroll back to his house, I’m content and completely thankful for the day I was just gifted. It was perfect and I’m amazed at how at home I feel here in Bay Creek.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bay Creek was nothing like I expected. The sleepy beach façade was just that—a façade! This has been one lively weekend. Wow, what revelations! First the history of Duke and then the unexpectedness of JP confiding in with me. Riding in the Jeep with the top down as Highway 17 zooms by, all I can do is smile and occasionally shake my head at it all.

I’m gazing out the window when I feel JP pull my hand into his. I look over as he skims his lips over my knuckle with his eyes never leaving the road. He looks so young and carefree with his hat shoved on backwards with the white-blond strands licking around the edges in all directions, dancing to a tune the wind orchestrates.

“We’ve got to find a replacement for Duke at the gallery,” JP says with a sigh as he sets our entwined hands on my thigh.

“I thought I was the replacement.”

He squeezes my hand. “No. You’re my right-hand. I need someone to man the gallery when we’re busy with the business of taking the pictures.”

I like the sound of that so I squeeze his hand in return. “Funny how you keep calling me your right-hand when you’re a
lefty
,” I tease.

“Willow, you know as well as I do the right hand is everything to a photographer. A camera is designed to be worked with the right hand.” He pulls my left hand to his lips again. He is completely right—no pun intended. The right hand is a must for the camera functions.

“Still teaching me, oh wise one,” I say dramatically, laughing.

He joins in the laugh, but brings back the seriousness in the next beat. “You’re my right-hand, and this summer has made me realize I wasn’t functioning until I met you.”

Well, this leaves me speechless, so I sit pondering over his words as the wind continues to whip through my thick black hair. I close my eyes and allow some silent miles to pass. The radio is off and I find the whistling of the wind mixed with the roar of the Jeep engine to be quite peaceful.

Opening them again, I notice the ever-present signs we are getting close to Charleston. We’ve entered the Sweetgrass Corridor. Stands speckle the sides of the road with intricate baskets on display along their weathered beams. These baskets more like art than functional pieces. Many of the stands are abandoned nowadays, but this ride into Charleston wouldn’t be the same without them. Older black ladies sit in rocking chairs at their designated stands with an artwork-in-progress resting in their substantial laps. This familiar sight is like a welcome home committee.

Thinking back over the weekend again, my mouth speaks what my brain is thinking, inconveniently and without my permission.

“I still can’t get over how you Thorton kids attend a black church.”

JP glances at me quickly before going back to studying the congested road. “We don’t go to a
black
church. We attend
God’s
church. No matter what color our skin is, we are all God’s young’uns. He doesn’t categorize us. We’re the idiots that try to do that.”

Before I can stop it, my mouth blurts out some more thoughts I didn’t mean to share. “JP Thorton, I just fell in love with you even more.”

I all but slap myself in the mouth as he cuts me a quick glance that feels heated with anger maybe… The ticking in his jaw sends uneasiness through my stomach, making me wish I could suck the words back in. Maybe I need to talk to the doctor about this uncontrollable problem with my wayward mouth.

JP abruptly wheels the Jeep off the road and yanks up the emergency brake, causing me to flinch at the sudden action.

Taking a few deep breaths before turning completely towards me, JP says sternly, “Willow Carter, you can’t say something like that… Not while I’m driving down the road.”

I mumble out an, “I’m sorry.” But before I can continue JP wisely places his hand over my blabbering mouth. I won’t meet his eyes due to embarrassment, so JP cups my chin with his other hand and turns me to him.

He waits until I submit to meeting his gaze. “You say something like that and you’ll cause me to wreck trying to kiss you.” He then steals any thoughts or words by sealing our lips together.

He’s practically on my side of the Jeep, kissing me stupid when a knock sounds on the side of my door. We look over at the same time and find a little black lady staring us down.

Crossing her arms over her substantial chest, she drawls out in Geechee, “I dink it’s best yo’ head on down da road.” She’s rolling the syllables in annoyance, but I still find her dialect beautiful.

Without releasing me, JP goes to business on charming this lady. “Ma’am, I can’t help myself and you’re gonna have to forgive me for this public display of affection. But this lovely woman just told me she is in
love
with me, and you gotta understand that I just had to kiss her for that.”

JP is batting those baby-blues and I think he has succeeded in charming her, because the little lady’s eyes soften and her lips twitch with an unleashed smile.

“Dat right dah is da sweetest ding I ever heard. Now head it on down da road.” She turns to leave us.

“Yes, ma’am,” JP says politely towards her before stealing another long, heated kiss.

A few beats later, I hear her shout in warning, “All right now.” We look up and find her rocking in her chair, back to weaving her basket. JP waves and then obeys her this time and heads back onto 17.

A vibe of contentment seems to have settled around JP as we cross the long bridge over Cooper River back into Charleston. It didn’t get by without notice that he didn’t say
I love you
during any part of our exchange back there, but I’m oddly okay with that. I don’t think those powerful words should ever be just tossed around or simply repeated just because someone else confesses them. Honestly, if I could suck them back in, I would. I wasn’t ready to admit them out loud, but I guess it’s too late now.

~~~~~

The week is a rushed frenzy with preparations for Duke’s departure, and that is just happening way too fast for my liking. I spend as much time with him as possible—helping him pack, having breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, and just hanging out. I’ve grown quite attached to him and spend most of my week following him around with my camera. At one point he barks for me to knock it off, but I refuse, telling him it’s his fault and I’ll do no such thing. I also tell him the least he can do is indulge me since he’s running off on me. Duke won’t be able to get back to the United States much, so it’s going to be a long two years. And that’s if he wants to come back.

I’m even more bummed when I find out that JP and Lucas are flying out with him. They are determined to make sure he is settled and everything is mapped out. Julia and Greyson will be flying out there in October to spend a month with him, and I’m told we are babysitting their little dog while they’re gone. I think it’s so sweet how they all coddle this grown man so much. He doesn’t seem to mind either.

At one point, JP reminded me to keep an eye out for potential gallery help when I start back to school next week. I agreed and asked if he’s including Duke’s apartment in the deal. And what he said earned him an extra-sweet kiss.

“No. That will always be Duke’s. He needs to know he can always come home again.”

Wednesday finds me back at my photo cataloguing as JP bustles around with finalizing things. I’m scribbling the file name Underwater Reef and am wondering if I could get up enough nerve to try this when JP comes in.

“You mind joining me at the desk?” he says as he sits and scoots my chair out some for me to take it.

“Sure. What’s up?” I sit and roll the stiffness out of my shoulders. The hours pass without much notice when I’m cataloguing and that mess leaves me a bit sore.

JP absently rubs at the base of my neck as he flips open the appointment book. “I’ve rescheduled all of my appointments until I get back, but there’s a private showing Friday I can’t get out of.” He looks over at me reluctantly. “You okay with handling it while I’m gone?”

“The Nature Museum?” I ask. I pay more attention than he realizes.

“Yeah. The curator needs to select the photos no later than Friday, and she’s out of town until tomorrow evening. It’s sort of out of my hands.”

“Okay. Just tell me what I need to know about it.”

JP rises and pulls me with him. As we walk into the gallery, I notice all of the canvases have a nature theme. The room is filled with forests, jungles, mountain landscapes, dessert terrains, rivers, oceans, flowers… You name it, and it’s represented in the gallery.

“For each photo the museum purchases, allow them to pick out another one free of charge.”

“That’s mighty nice of you,” I comment as I walk around in admiration. JP seems to pull these artworks out of thin air.

“Well, it’s for a good cause.” He shrugs nonchalantly. He always plays his good deeds down. He’s such a humble person, hiding behind a ruggedly handsome façade that alludes to being so sure of himself all the time. “The curator’s name and information are in the appointment book. Call me with anything. Okay?”

“Okay,” I reply. “It seems easy enough.”

“That part is, but you need to let her know that for no reason will the pictures in the alcove be up for sale. They are for viewing purposes only.”

Well now. This piques my interest, so I head into my favorite part of the gallery with JP on my heels. I stop and admire the beauty I find in the two photos on display with stark black backgrounds. One is of a voluptuous peony so full and lush with a faint pink tinge to it. It almost looks translucent as does the ghostly white rose on the other canvas.

JP eases behind me and places his hand at my waist as he explains these stunning photos. “The peony reminds me of my sister Savannah. She’s wrestled with the idea for years that she was insignificant and maybe a mistake.”

He pauses to let this inside glimpse of his younger sister set in. How on earth could she possibly ever think such a thing? That woman is obviously the world to her family.

“The peony symbolizes prosperity and great fortune. God’s opened her eyes to how fortunate she is and how important she is to us. I added the faintness of the pink because Savannah is a tomboy at heart, but she also has a hidden soft side. You’ll find yourself blessed to be gifted a glimpse of it.”

I look over and find JP smiling appreciatively at the photo and know he only sees his sister. The man’s words just undo me and cause my soul to ache with overwhelming emotions.

He pulls me closer to the rose. “You know Julia is referred to as the world’s rose.”

“Oh yes. I’ve followed her career.”

“Yeah, and I couldn’t think of a better flower to describe her either.” He gestures towards the glowing petals. “A white rose symbolizes new beginnings, and I’m a blessed man to have witnessed this for my sister. She was headed down a path that only had one outcome, but she’s turned her life around and I’m proud of her.” He steps forward and traces the delicate line of one of the petals. “The petals are pristine and full of beauty, but they are also very fragile, and that’s my Julia Rose.”

He allows me to study the photos for a spell as I ponder his words. A lot of thought and care has been placed into each photo. It’s very clear how much he loves his sisters.

Clearing his throat, JP interrupts after a while, “There’s something missing. What do you suppose that is?”

I glance at him as he looks intently at the photos before I refocus there as well. I turn this over a few beats before answering. “The grouping would be more complete in appearance if you had one more photo.” I notice the wide girth between the two photos as though one canvas is purposely missing.

“My thoughts exactly,” JP says as he steps over to the sidewall and retrieves another photo he had tucked behind the chair I keep stashed back here. My speculation is confirmed when JP hangs it between the other two. I’m at awe of the beauty once he steps back and I get a good look. Same black background but with a very different flower that I don’t believe I’ve ever seen before now.

“This gorgeous flower is called an Angel Trumpet,” he answers my unspoken question. It has the same translucent effect as the other two, but the long fluted petals have various orange hues dancing along them. JP pulls me close and places a kiss on my temple before continuing. “It symbolizes vivacity and vibrancy. You are such an exotic beauty and this flower reminds me of you.”

I gaze up at JP as he turns me to face him. “What?”

“Willow, you’re my angel. You’ve painted my world in vibrant hope. Something I didn’t think I deserved… Maybe I don’t deserve it, but I’m not squandering this gift God has given me.”

I allow him to hold me as I look back over the photo. I’m completely floored that he would pick an Angel Trumpet of all flowers. He will never understand the significance of that to me. My angel of Hope is why I’m here in this gallery now. The circle she’s started with me seems to be coming around a bit more. It’s not quite a full circle yet, but I have a feeling we are closer.

“I don’t know what to say,” I mutter.

JP relieves me of having to speak by placing his lips to mine, and that seems to be right where they belong. Pulling away, he meets my eyes again. His gorgeous blue ones seem about to brim over with emotion.