Page 5 of Escape to Lighthouse Cove

It was both a relief and the tiniest bit disappointing. After twelve years of being nothing more than an ornament for her husband’s arm, Grace realized she’d been looking forward to sinking her teeth into something. Not much, admittedly, but maybe more than what sounded like a stroll a day and a couple of emails. She had read online that much of Maine’s protected area was simply that—protected, rather than maintained or developed. She understood why her job was what it was, and yet she still hoped it might be something that could grow. Maybe she could find ways to expand its scope, offer opportunities and initiatives to locals as well as tourists…

She let her mind wander hazily for a few moments before she brought it back to the present. She had a little boy who was waiting for his hot chocolate, and a day to fill with exploring their new home.

Smiling, Grace poured the hot chocolate into mugs and headed back into the living room—and the rest of her life.

4

“They’ve settled in well.”

Noah sighed as he lifted his gaze from the snowy vista of the Andes mountains on the screen of his elliptical trainer.

“Who has?” he asked wearily, even though he already knew the answer. He was going to make Isaiah work for it.

“Grace Wyatt and her son Jacob,” his assistant replied promptly, clearly glad for the opportunity to elaborate. “She’s quite young, you know. I wouldn’t put her much past thirty. And the boy is only around six. Quiet. Very quiet, and shy.” A pause, laden with meaning and memory. “He reminds me a little of?—”

“Don’t,” Noah cut him off tersely. There was only one person whom quiet and shy would remind Isaiah of, and he was not willing to talk about him. At all.

“All right,” Isaiah replied equably. “But you should meet them, Noah. She seems…” He paused, his nose wrinkling in thought. “Damaged,” he finally finished. “Or maybe just bruised?—”

“Damaged and bruised?” Noah arched an incredulous eyebrow. “You make her sound like a bad banana.”

“Don’t,” Isaiah replied quietly, parroting the injunction right back at him. “That kind of quip is beneath you—and her.”

Noah looked back at the view of the Andes as he continued his manufactured climb. It irritated him how Isaiah could make him feel like a scolded eight-year-old boy with just a few words. And yes, maybe that quip was beneath him, but he didn’t want to get to know the damaged and bruised Grace Wyatt, and he certainly didn’t need daily updates about her or her son. Her quiet and shy son who reminded…

No. He was not going there. Not even in his head.Especiallynot in his head.

It was time, Noah decided, to put Isaiah in his place.

He switched off the trainer and reached for a towel, slinging it about his sweaty shoulders as he pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. “Look, I appreciate you’re trying to look out for me,” he told the older man. “And I know you’re worried that I’m not going out or seeing anyone, but honestly, that’s how I like it.” He gentled his voice. “It’s what I need right now. The time and space to… toheal.”

Isaiah’s eyes flashed with what Noah suspected was both humor and annoyance. “You trying to fob me off with that therapy speak, son?” he asked and a rusty, unexpected laugh erupted from Noah before he shook his head.

“No… all right, maybe a little.” A sigh escaped him after the laugh. “I mean it, though.” At least he meant that it was what he needed right now, and maybe forever. Whether any amount of time or space would help him to heal remained another matter entirely, but he wasn’t holding out much hope.

“I think what you mean is ‘butt out,’” Isaiah replied wryly, before his expression turned serious, even grave. “This isn’t good for you, Noah, whatever you think. You can’theal, as you say, when you don’t talk to anyone. See anyone or even anything. You stay in this house, you go on your damned computer?—”

Noah pointed to the elliptical trainer. “Hey, I get exercise.”

“It’s not the same. You need to get outside of all this.” He gestured to the gym, but Noah knew he meant Grayhaven. The house that had become his world, because he hadn’t trusted himself out in the real one. Yes, he walked the estate’s gardens to get some fresh air, but with every day he spent here, his desire to expand his universe shrank a little more. He didn’t want to face any of it—the news articles, the blogs and posts and reels and what have you combing over what had happened. Or not, because it had been a year and a half and everyone had forgotten. Moved on.

He never would, though. He’d never let himself.

“Please, Isaiah,” he said quietly, and now he was being genuine. “Please, just let me be.”

Isaiah sighed, his face drawn in lines of sorrow that made Noah feel worse. The last thing he needed was more responsibility for another person’s feelings, as well as more feelings of his own, of failure and guilt. He had more than enough to be getting on with already.

“All right,” Isaiah relented reluctantly before he gave Noah a shrewd, narrowed look. “But I think this warden might be staying around for a while. She may have been through the wringer, but I have a feeling she’s made of tougher stuff. She came here for a reason, and she’s going to find it.”

“And you got this all from a five-minute conversation while you showed her the house?” Noah asked skeptically. Isaiah was making Grace Wyatt sound like a cross between a saint and a superhero.

“Sometimes,” Isaiah replied with a sage nod, “you just know.”

Under the spring sunshine, Lighthouse Cove Island was transformed. Grace walked down the lane back toward the cluster of houses, holding Jacob’s hand as they strolled along. They’d had a delicious breakfast of blueberry pancakes after their hot chocolate and then dressed and gotten ready to explore. Now they were finally stepping out, and it was into a world that took her breath away.

The ocean alone was enough to have her jaw drop at the sight of that sparkling stretch of water, its surface dancing with a dozen different lights. A few gulls circled high above, their caws echoing on the still-chilly spring breeze. Up here winter was only just loosening its grip on the world; the grass was tender and a vivid green, a few bright-headed crocuses pushing up through the rich black earth. On the right side, the grassy hills led to steeper cliffs of deep gray granite shot through with sparkling quartz. Jacob paused to trace his finger along the glittering line in the rock, and Grace’s heart lifted to see him show even just a flicker of interest in something,anything. For far too long he’d been as flat-eyed as she’d felt, both of them barely able to slog through their days, traumatized in different ways by everything that had happened.

It felt good—no, it feltwonderful—to finally have a spring in their steps.