Just a Wish Away (22 page)

"You're probably right."

In recent months she had begun to realize how isolating her work schedule was. Forget about a serious relationship, she barely had time for friends. But she'd tell herself it would get better after tax season. Unfortunately, there was always something else to do and a new deadline approaching. Maybe she'd just used work as a reason not to date. It was easier to concentrate on business than to worry about hooking up with someone.

"So how long are you in town?" Mary asked.

"I'm not sure. I'm definitely staying until my aunt is home and back on her feet."

"Well, if you have time off, then you should come to my house and I'll show you how to make glass."

"Really?"

"I'd love it. It's not often I meet someone who is interested in the whole process and not just the end piece. It would be a pleasure."

"I'd love to do that."

Mary wrote down her phone number and address on a piece of paper. "The store is closed on Sunday, so come by the house then, if that works for you."

"That should be good," she said.

"If you go out to the beach and find some sea glass beforehand, bring it with you. We'll make something special." She handed Alexa her purchase. "I hope you enjoy this."

"I know I will."

Alexa walked outside and paused on the sidewalk, torn between going to the antique store and heading down to the beach to collect some glass. It was almost as if she was fighting two sides of herself, the little girl who'd been caught up in the magic of the glass that washed up on the beach and the adult who didn't believe in magic anymore.

Another long minute sent her heading in the right direction, she hoped.

Chapter Thirteen

Just after eleven o'clock Friday morning, Braden climbed the steps to the house he'd shared very briefly with Kinley. He paused on the porch, feeling both uncomfortable and oddly detached. He hadn't spent much time in this house. Kinley had bought it when he was overseas, so it didn't really feel like home. He didn't recognize the planters filled with flowers or the wicker swing in the corner. He didn't even recognize the welcome mat. This was Kinley's house, not his. It always had been.

He rang the bell. He still had a key, but it felt wrong to use it now.

Kinley opened the door a moment later. She wore yoga pants and a tight purple top. She'd been working out a lot in recent years, her intense exercise focus becoming another barrier between them.

There was wariness in her eyes, and she didn't invite him in. "What are you doing here, Braden?"

"I need to get a few things," he said.

"I thought you said there wasn't anything or anyone in this house you wanted," she replied, throwing his words back at him.

"I was wrong," he said simply.

Surprise spread across her face. "You were wrong?" she echoed.

He nodded. "About a lot of things. There's no need to rehash all our problems. It's over for both of us. It was finished long before we both said it out loud. I don't respect some of the things you did, but I don't need to be your enemy." As he let go of the anger, he felt lighter. Alexa had told him his wounds were festering, and she was right. He'd been holding everything in, and all he'd been doing was hurting himself.

Kinley frowned, as if she didn't quite know what to make of his attitude. Maybe it was easier for her to handle his animosity than any gesture of kindness and regret.

"I shouldn't have told you about the affair when you were in the hospital," she said finally. "I do regret that, Braden. It just came out. You scared me. When I saw you in the bed with all those bandages, you looked so broken. I barely recognized you. I didn't want to be with a soldier anymore."

"I told you I was going to leave the Army."

"It was too late, Braden."

"I wish you would have told me you wanted out before you cheated."

"I told you why I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to be distracted while you were in danger." She drew in a breath and then let it out. "I'm not proud of what I did. I thought our lives were going to be so different than what they turned out to be. I didn't know I was going to be so lonely. I didn't understand that I'd be giving up a lot to move around with you. And even when you were home, you shut down. You couldn't talk to me. You were sealed up like a vault, and I had no idea how to get in."

She was probably right about that, but she hadn't tried all that hard to understand what he was going through. "I did try to tell you about Pete."

Her lips tightened. "I don't want to talk about that. It's too sad. And I'm afraid if you tell me too much, I'll blurt it out to someone that shouldn't know. I still see some of Pete's friends around town, and no one knows the whole story but you. That's the way you wanted it."

"We don't need to talk about Pete. Can I come in?" he asked.

She hesitated, flinging a quick look over her shoulder. "I'm not alone."

He stiffened, waiting for the anger to come back, but he felt remarkably indifferent to the fact that there was another guy in his house, probably in his bed. They really were done. "Well, I need my guitar," he said.

"Your guitar?" she repeated. "You haven't played that thing since before we married."

"It's in the back closet, or at least it was when I last saw it."

"That's what you came here for – your guitar?" she asked in amazement.

"Yeah," he said. It wasn't just the guitar he was reclaiming it was a part of himself that he'd lost.

"Okay. I'll get it," she said with a shrug. "Can you wait out here? I don't want it to be awkward."

"Yes, God knows, we don't want it to be awkward," he said with a touch of sarcasm.

As Kinley went back inside the house, he walked to the edge of the porch and looked down the street. He doubted he'd ever come back here again, but he no longer felt like he had to avoid this part of town. He needed to move on. He wasn't tied to the Army anymore. He wasn't tied to Kinley. He'd cut all the strings. Now, he just had to figure out how to get started on the rest of his life.

"Here it is," Kinley said, returning a moment later.

"Thanks." He took the case out of her hands.

"What are you going do now, Braden?" she asked curiously.

"Right now, I'm going to see if I remember how to play a few chords."

"I'm talking about your life." She paused, sending him a plea for understanding. "I don't want you to hate me, and I do want you to be happy. You deserve that after everything you've been through."

"I intend to be happy," he said.

"Are you with that woman I saw yesterday?"

"Alexa? No. We're just … I don’t know what we are."

"She's the girl from your past. The one you had a huge crush on. When you told me about her years ago, your voice changed like she was someone special. I always wondered about her."

He couldn't remember exactly what he'd told Kinley about Alexa, but it didn't matter. "She's from my past, yes. I'm not sure yet if she's going to be part of my future."

* * *

Alexa hit the waterfront just as the local restaurants were opening their doors for lunch. There was also a buzzing atmosphere around town as the community prepared for the Daniel Stone fundraiser the next day. Volunteers were on various corners, handing out flyers, and discussing politics, and men and women in conservative business attire stood out in the touristy crowd. She didn't know who they were -- political operatives, security? It was impossible to tell.

She was looking forward to meeting the would-be senator and also his entourage. Her father's remarks about a journal had been tantalizing, but she'd found no such item in any of the boxes at the shop. So either someone had found it before her, or it was still hidden away somewhere. But that was all for later. Right now she had a more personal mission in mind. She was going to find some sea glass.

She took the same path to the beach as she'd done the day before, but once she hit the sand, she kicked off her shoes and let herself enjoy the sensation of the warm grains between her toes. Her last trip to the beach had been filled with purpose, to get to the Wellbourne house. Now she just wanted to enjoy herself.

She wandered down to the water. The tide appeared to be out, which gave her plenty of beach to graze. It still amazed her that the colored gems called sea glass were the result of the ocean currents spinning ordinary glass that had been dumped into the ocean into frosted, colored shards of sea glass. It was nature's way of turning trash into something beautiful, and that appealed to Alexa on a lot of levels. She was tired of people throwing things away – like her father had done with his first family.

She searched for almost an hour, her path taking her along the water. The wind tossed her hair, until half of it was falling loose from her ponytail. The sun toasted her cheeks, making her feel like she'd just come out of a winter cocoon. Walking through the sand was also great exercise. Her legs began to ache from the exertion of squatting down every few feet to examine piles of pebbles, shells and seaweed, hoping to find some colored gem tucked away.

She found a few very small shards early on that she put into a zipped pouch in her bag. But it was slow going, and she was beginning to think she'd have to go home without anything really significant, when she finally stumbled upon a beautiful frosty, dark green piece that was a couple of inches in diameter. She could definitely do something with this.

The sun was getting high in the sky, and she realized it was almost one o'clock. She'd managed to waste half the day, although she didn't want to think of it as a waste. But it was hard to change the habits she'd acquired the last ten years where every activity was pursued for a specific goal. It had been a long time since she had veered off her path of productivity, and she was enjoying the break. She felt more in touch with herself.

As she made her way back across the beach, a figure near the base of the cliff caught her eye. A guy was sitting on a large boulder strumming a guitar, and her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was Braden.

He hadn't seen her yet, his focus on the instrument in his hands. She studied him for a moment, thinking that the guitar made him even sexier -- if that were possible. She liked his casual look, the faded jeans, the gray T-shirt. She couldn't really picture Braden in a suit like the accountants she worked with. She thought he would feel too constricted, although, he had worn a military uniform for almost eight years. He was probably used to being constricted.

Braden suddenly looked up, and his fingers stilled on the guitar.

She waved and walked across the sand. "I see you found your guitar," she said, taking a seat on a large, flat boulder next to him.

"What are you doing down here?"

She held up the piece of sea glass still in her hand.

He sent her a warm, knowing smile. "Reliving old times?"

"I seem to be doing that a lot. I stopped by
The Glass House
this morning and talked to Mary Mulligan. In fact, I bought one of her bird pieces.

She pulled the box out of her bag and unwrapped the glass so she could show Braden. "Isn't it perfect?"

The glass shimmered in the sunlight, as if the bird was itching to fly away.

"It's beautiful," Braden agreed.

She carefully wrapped the glass back up and returned it to its soft resting place and slid the box into her bag. "Mary invited me to come to her house on Sunday so I can see how she makes the glass. That's something I've always wanted to do."

"I'm glad you're finally doing it," he said approvingly.

"Now that Aunt Phoebe is getting better, I don't feel as guilty about spending a little time for myself."

"You should never feel guilty about that, Alexa. Life is too short."

"I know." She paused. "Speaking of old dreams – how's the music going?"

"I'm very rusty," he said with a grin. "I had to come out here and play where no one could possibly hear me."

"I'm sure you're not that bad."

"I'm sure you have no idea how bad I am."

"Then play for me, and let me be the judge."

He shrugged, then strummed the strings, producing a nice tone.

"That doesn't sound so bad, Braden. What about my song? Can I hear it?"

"I'm still trying to remember the words," he replied.

"I think you remember. You just don't want to sing it for me."

"It was a stupid song, Alexa."

"I want to hear it, Braden." She glanced around. There was no one nearby. "Right now it's just us and the birds."

He sighed. "You're so pushy."

"And you're so stubborn. Just give me a few lines."

"Fine, but don't blame me if those birds go squawking and squealing into the water."

She laughed. "I'll risk it. Come on."

He glanced down at his guitar and strummed a few chords, then he began to sing.

His voice was low and smooth, a beautiful masculine tone. But it was the words that touched her.