Driftwood Bay (Hope Harbor #5) - Irene Hannon Page 0,67

no regrets. The quiet life she’d created suited her perfectly. She hadn’t wanted a handsome new neighbor or appealing little girls or shell-shocked refugees or abandoned kittens complicating her world.

So how had she gotten herself into this mess, anyway?

“Ignoring an obvious need would be wrong.”

She turned on the spigot again as Charley’s comment from weeks ago echoed in her mind—and gave her the answer. He may have offered that sentiment as a philosophical musing, but the truth was, that’s how she was wired. She hadn’t been born a recluse—and she’d been raised to help those facing hardship.

That was why she was getting tangled up in a bunch of people’s lives.

And unless she wanted to walk away from everything she believed, she was stuck for now. She’d have to pitch in. Do what had to be done.

But after all this was over—and it would be soon—she was going to return to a life centered on her farm, where her days were quiet and safe and predictable . . . and there was no more danger of losing anyone she loved.

She turned off the water and removed the pot from under the spigot, careful this go-round to pay attention and avoid any more splashes.

Getting burned was the pits.

And while she’d always liked Tennyson’s poetry, she no longer believed in his most famous sentiment.

It wasn’t better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

19

“Why are we going to church so early?”

As Molly posed the question for the third time in the past hour, Logan unbuckled her harness and helped her out of the car.

She must not be buying his explanation.

But he couldn’t tell her the truth.

Admitting he’d risen early to see Jeannette at church might not be smart, given his niece’s constant chatter about ’Nette since they’d spent last Tuesday together.

Molly could get the wrong idea.

Or the right one.

And he didn’t want to encourage any matchmaking from a five-year-old.

However . . . he hadn’t caught sight of Jeannette once since the night she’d taken the abandoned cat home, and while she’d sent a few text messages and photos, she hadn’t issued an invitation for them to visit . . . or answered her phone when he’d called to ask if they could drop by . . . or offered to bring the cat over to his house.

Bottom line, he wanted to see her.

Molly might even be able to charm her into suggesting a get-together.

Yet another reason for their early church attendance—and another admission he didn’t intend to make.

“I told you, sweetie—I have a long list today and I want to get an early start.”

“What do you have to do?”

She would ask that.

“I have to cut the grass and clean up the house and . . . uh . . . a bunch of other stuff. We could take Toby for a walk on the beach later too, if you’d like.”

“Can ’Nette come?”

“You could ask her if we see her.”

“Is she here?”

He was counting on it.

“She may be.”

Molly stretched her neck to search the crowd as they wound through the vestibule and down the aisle to find a seat.

“I don’t see her.”

Neither did he.

But Charley had mentioned once that he’d run into her after the early service, suggesting she was a regular churchgoer. And with her afternoon tea schedule, this timing would better suit her.

He chose a seat that gave him a line of sight to the door, and five minutes before the service was scheduled to begin, she entered.

“She’s here!” Molly tugged on his arm, her stage whisper drawing a few glances from those seated around them.

“Yes. I see her.”

“Can we talk to her after church?”

“We’ll try.”

But she might slip away fast . . . perhaps during the final hymn.

Not much he could do about that—unless he could somehow communicate to her that Molly wanted to say hello.

He caught her eye as she settled into a pew near the back. Smiled.

She returned it—though hers seemed tentative.

Molly waved.

Her smile broadened.

Logan pointed at his niece, then at Jeannette, and made the familiar talking gesture with his thumb and four fingers.

A few beats passed, but at last she dipped her head, then redirected her attention to the front as the organ struck up the notes of the opening hymn.

Logan tried to concentrate on the Scripture readings and Reverend Baker’s sermon. He really did. But he was as antsy as his niece for the service to end so they could talk to Jeannette.

The instant the last note of the final hymn died away,