finished her coffee and checked her watch. It was getting toward three in the afternoon, and she needed to get back to the inn. It was still raining as she left the coffeehouse, but not quite as hard as it had been. She opened her umbrella and headed up Tulip Street in the direction of Harbor Drive.
As she walked, the wind kicked up again, and the rain got heavier. Off to the west, the clouds were darkening. The weatherman said to expect thunderstorms all day. She quickened her pace, the wind playing games with her umbrella.
The rain was beginning to fall again in earnest when she reached the traffic light at the intersection across the street from the library. The traffic light caught her, and she was forced to stand there, her feet getting wet, as she waited.
When the light finally changed, she dashed across the street, stepping in ankle-high water that sloshed through her shoes. Just as she reached the other side of the street, her darling child, dressed in his yellow rain slicker, came bouncing through the library doors in the company of Rev. Micah St. Pierre.
“Jackson Howland Scott,” she said, rounding on her son, “what in the Sam Hill are you doing here? You told me you were hanging out with Topher this afternoon.”
The two culprits stopped in their tracks, hand-in-the-cookie-jar looks on their faces.
She turned on the minister. “And shame on you for encouraging him when you know how I feel about Rose Howland’s letters.”
Just then, before either of them could explain themselves, a sudden gust hit, tugging at Ashley’s umbrella and turning it backward.
“Damn,” she swore, struggling to get the umbrella to turn right-side out. But before she could accomplish that, the skies opened in a deluge, and Micah pulled her under the protection of his own big, black golf umbrella.
She found herself way too close to him, just as she realized that she’d said the word “damn” in his presence. If she were still standing out in the rain, the drops would be turning to steam as they hit her suddenly too-hot cheeks.
She hid her embarrassment behind annoyance. “Do you want to explain yourself?” she asked.
“Uh, well…” the minister began, but he was saved by the wind a second time. Another gust hit them, sending sheets of water sideways, evading even the Rev’s gigantic umbrella.
“Uh, let’s get under cover,” he said.
It seemed like a reasonable idea. So Ashley pulled up the hood on her raincoat and then took off down the street, making a mad dash up to Howland House, about three blocks away.
“Where’s Topher?” she asked Jackie when they reached the shelter of the portico.
“Um, well, I kind of didn’t tell you the truth.”
“You weren’t hanging out with Topher?”
Jackie shook his head. “Topher went sailing today. He told me he was going to the island.”
“What?” Ashley gazed up at the sky just as lightning jumped from one cloud to another. An ominous crack of thunder followed.
She turned back toward her son as worry of an entirely different kind surged through her. “You are grounded for the foreseeable future. Now, go to your room.” She pointed toward the inn’s door. “And take off your wet shoes before you track up the floors,” she added in her best authoritative-mom voice.
As her son hightailed it to the door, she turned back to the Rev. “And what’s your excuse?”
“I didn’t know he was supposed to be with Topher,” Micah said, also glancing at the storm. “He knocked at my door around noon and said that you had an unexpected appointment. He asked me if I’d accompany him to the library.”
“And you took him, when you knew I had expressly forbidden him from reading those letters?” She stared up into the Rev’s dark eyes, wanting desperately to be furious with the man but finding it impossible to accomplish.
Micah St. Pierre was a kind and thoughtful man. A better Christian than she would ever be. And he had the most beautiful—
No. She stopped herself from even thinking it. Noticing the minister’s good looks was probably a sin, or stupid, or something.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But maybe you should go down to the library and read the letters yourself. They are an interesting glimpse into history.”
“Even if this history feeds Jackie’s fantasy about the ghost of Captain Teal?”
Micah smiled, folding a dimple into one cleanly shaven cheek. “It’s a shame you’ve lost your faith.”