Driftwood Bay (Hope Harbor #5) - Irene Hannon Page 0,81
on earth was he doing in her neck of the woods?
She forced up the corners of her mouth as he drew near. “For a minute I thought you were an illusion. I rarely see anyone on this out-of-the-way beach.”
“I’ve been here often.”
“Why haven’t I ever run into you?”
“We must come at different times.” He gave her one of the trademark smiles that illuminated his face.
That was possible. And she didn’t get to the beach as much as she’d like to, anyway. The farm and tearoom took up most of her waking hours.
“It’s kind of strange our paths crossed today. I usually walk on brighter days. I was hoping the sun would come out if I ventured down here.”
“Sunny days are a treasure—but there’s beauty in storms too. Volatile weather offers boundless inspiration for my painting.” He swept a hand across the horizon. “Isn’t that a magnificent example of God’s handiwork?”
She didn’t try to hide her skepticism as she surveyed the angry dark clouds. “That must be your artist’s eye talking.”
“Also the human one. Shall we stroll?” He fell in beside her without waiting for an answer.
So much for her solo walk.
And maybe that was okay, given the unsettled state of her emotions. Charley always had a few thought-provoking observations to offer, and perhaps one of them would help her sort through her jumbled feelings.
“As for the beauty in storms”—he picked up the conversation without missing a beat—“I suppose you have to work harder to see it. Sunshine and blue skies get all the positive press.” After giving her a quick flash of his white teeth, he grew more serious. “But storms have amazing power. They can transform. Bring to the surface hidden treasures.” He bent and scooped a small object out of the sand. “Like this.”
She leaned close to inspect it. “Is that a key?”
“Yes. A very old one, by the look of it. Copper, I’d say, considering the lack of barnacles.” He angled it toward the light as he examined it. “It must have washed ashore in last night’s storm.”
“I wonder what it’s from?”
“A ship that was lost in a gale, I expect. It could have opened a sea chest . . . or the captain’s quarters . . . or some storage compartment below deck. Like the first mate’s private stash of rum.” He tilted his head, humor lurking in his dark eyes. “A sailor may have ‘borrowed’ it to pilfer a few sips on a long sea voyage and dropped it overboard to protect himself when he was about to be discovered.”
“You have a vivid imagination. No wonder you’re an artist.”
“Doesn’t take an artist to be open to possibilities.” He weighed the key in his hand. “Too bad this can’t talk. It would have some fascinating stories to tell.”
“Many of them sad, I bet. Life was hard in those days—and that key wound up stuck on the bottom of the ocean for who knows how long. Not the happiest ending.”
“But that wasn’t the ending. It may have been tossed about by turbulent waters, but now the tides have brought it to our shore and it’s getting a second chance at life.”
“Its original purpose is gone, though. That’s sad.”
“Perhaps it has a new purpose, yet to be discovered.”
The man definitely had a fanciful mind—and a boundless sense of optimism.
“If you say so.”
He didn’t respond—but after a couple more minutes of meandering along the hard-packed sand just past the surf line, he introduced a new topic. “I saw Logan and Molly going into Grace Christian this morning—and the Shabos passed me as they drove to St. Francis. I’d say we have some fine additions to our community in those two families.”
“I agree.” If that was a subtle attempt to find out why she hadn’t attended services today, he was out of luck. “But they all have a sad history.”
“That’s true. Sometimes it’s difficult to understand why God allows such tragedies to happen.”
Strange that he’d bring up the very subject she’d been pondering as he joined her.
“I hear you.”
“Yet good can come out of bad. Take the Shabos, for instance. Despite all their hardships, life may hold exceptional promise for them in this new country. Elisa will have opportunities she would never have had in her homeland—and who knows? She may end up contributing to the world in ways we could never foresee. The same with Thomma and Mariam. God has spared them for a reason.”