right now. She had to get back to work.
“So, anyway, I thought you might come by the house later today, if possible, to look at the kitchen and dining room. It’s been completely over-hauled—painted, new flooring, but I held off on the final plans. I want it to be perfect.”
Rock handed her several more design books. “Okay, then. Why don’t you glance over these—there are several Victorian reproductions and some original restoration projects in there—and I’ll meet you at the house, say, around four?”
“That would be good. I have some errands to run, but I should be back in plenty of time.” She extended a hand. “Thanks…Rod—”
“It’s Rock,” he said, wincing. “My mother’s choice of given names for her sons has left us the laughingstock of the island, I’m afraid.”
“I like your name,” Ana said, acutely aware of the strength and warmth of his big callused hand.
“Well, around here, everyone calls me Rock,” he said. “Or…Preacher Rock.”
Ana jerked her hand back. “You’re a preacher?”
“Just on Sundays,” he said, a teasing light making his dark eyes go as blue as the ocean at night. “I got the job by being in the right place at the wrong time, or something like that.”
“You’re going to have to explain.”
He walked with her out into the oak-shadowed yard, then pointed to the tiny whitewashed church sitting like a child’s playhouse a few yards away from his cottage and workshop. “Reverend Palczynski was the island preacher for over forty years. He lived in this cottage, preached every Sunday in the Sunset Chapel. Then one day he came out to the workshop to get his volleyball equipment—he loved to play volleyball—and fell over dead right underneath this great live oak. He was ninety.”
“Oh, goodness.”
“Yes, goodness is a perfect word for Reverend Pal—as we all called him. He was a good man. I happened to come along and find him. Tried to save him, but he was already gone by the time the paramedics got here. He died with a smile on his face, but his death left a great void on the island.”
“And you filled that void?”
Rock nodded, glanced out to the beach in the distance. The roar of the ocean ran through the delicate tropical breezes that moved around the palm trees and great oaks. “One of the paramedics suggested I take over, since I’d always helped out at the chapel, doing odd jobs around the place, building cabinets and such. And since I have a reputation for being a philosopher of sorts, word got out. The town gossip, Greta Epperson, wrote about it in her society column in the Sunset Sentinel, and next thing I knew I was standing before the church elders, being blessed as their next preacher.”
Ana laughed. “Your mother warned me people on the island do things their own way.”
“Yes, that’s true. We march to the beat of a different drummer, I think. And Greta captures it all in her column each week.”
“Do you regret being…coerced into becoming a preacher?”
“No, not at all. You see, I believe no one can make me do something I don’t want to do in the first place. It seemed a natural transition, since I worked out here—I already rented this space from Reverend Pal, anyway.”
“So you moved right on in?”
The look he gave her made Ana’s heart lift like a surprise wave coming through still waters. His eyes were filled with a quiet determination and a firm challenge.
“I’ve been known to move right in on a situation, yes.”
She whirled, headed to her car. “Then, I’m sure I can count on you to deliver my cabinets and shelves in a timely manner. I’d like to open by mid-May.”
“You don’t beat around the bush, do you,” she heard him say from behind her.
She also heard the crunch of his workboots on the shell-scattered drive. “I don’t have time to mess around,” Ana explained as she opened her car door and tossed the design books on the seat. “This is my last chance.”
“Last chance for what?”
He was right there beside her, holding the car door open.
Ana slid behind the wheel, then looked up at him through the open window. “My last chance to make it. I’ve wanted this for a very long time. I don’t intend to blow it.”
“Got a lot invested in this, huh?”
She nodded, tried to relax. “Yes, time, money, commitments to several artists, your mother included. I don’t want to let anybody down.”
He leaned in, his big body blocking out the sun’s bright rays. Ana got a whiff of aftershave mixed with turpentine. And got nervous all over again—her heart was doing the wave thing in rapid succession now.
“Then, I won’t let you down,” he told her.
Ana waited a couple of beats before stammering, “Th-thank you. I’ll see you at four.”
He smiled, then slowly stood back from the car. “See you then.”
As Ana drove away, she heard the echo of his words. “I won’t let you down.”
She’d heard that one before. Many times.
But this time, she prayed it was the truth.
Chapter Two
“So you’re meeting Ana at four, then?”
Rock’s mother fluttered around her kitchen, adjusting a set of wind chimes here, fixing a fresh bouquet of lilies there. She smiled and hummed as she fussed and fixed, the constant breezes flowing through the many open windows causing strands of her grayish-white upswept hair to pull away from the elaborate shell-encrusted silver combs she used to hold it off her face.
She had always reminded Rock of an elusive butterfly, never settling on just one blossom.
“This is just work, Mom,” Rock replied. “Don’t go reading anything else into this. It’s strictly business.”
“Business which I sent your way,” Eloise reminded him as she poured him a glass of mint-flavored sun tea. “Want another sandwich?”
“No, but thanks for the meal—and the business. It’s not every day I get two meals and a huge project from you.”
Eloise stopped fidgeting. “I’m trying to make things up to you, Rock, on both scores.”
Rock nodded, wished he’d learn to keep his mouth shut. “I do appreciate your efforts, Mother. I can always use the steady work. And…as long as you’re willing to feed me now and again, I can work on…my other issues, too, I suppose.”
“Good,” Eloise said as she swished back to the sink, her multi-patterned cotton skirt lifting out like soft handkerchiefs around her ankles. “A minister shouldn’t have
