And maybe, if fate was kind, good would also come from her unexpected trip out here to help a sister who so far hadn’t been receptive to launching a new chapter together, as Howard and his wife were doing.
But perhaps for now she should follow Charley’s advice. Love Lauren, give her time—and hope she’d accept the help being offered from the sister who yearned to reconnect.
7
“Dad ... the lady from the wharf is here.”
At the tug on his sleeve, Aaron glanced down at Isabel, seated beside him in the Grace Christian pew. Her gaze was directed toward the other side of the church as she spoke in a hushed voice.
He tracked her line of sight, homing in on a willowy woman near the back, her blond hair shimmering in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows that lined the nave.
It was her. No question about it.
And she was still alone.
“Dad.” At Isabel’s more insistent tone, he redirected his attention to her. “Do you think she lives here?”
“I doubt it, honey. A lot of tourists come to Hope Harbor in the summer.”
“She doesn’t look like a tourist.”
The organ struck up the opening chords of the first hymn, and he pressed his finger to his lips.
Isabel stopped talking—but that didn’t keep her from sending curious looks toward the rear of the church.
Why on earth was she so fascinated by the visitor?
Could it be the woman’s beauty?
Very possible.
Heck, it had even captivated him—a guy who had no interest in getting involved with another woman.
Truth be told, it took every ounce of his willpower not to follow Isabel’s lead and steal a few peeks at the lovely stranger throughout the service.
But while he managed to keep his focus on the sanctuary, his mind refused to get with the program.
When the final chords of the closing song faded away, he put his hymnal in the rack on the back of the pew in front of him and took Isabel’s hand.
“She’s not leaving, Dad.”
No need to ask who.
He gave the rear of the church a surreptitious scan.
The blond woman had retaken her seat after the hymn as the rest of the congregants filed out, head bowed.
“Do you think we should say hello?” Isabel tugged on his sleeve again.
“No. I don’t want to bother her. She may be praying.”
“But what if she’s lonesome? Doesn’t God want us to be nice to people who are sad?”
His daughter had learned her Bible lessons too well.
“Yes, but sometimes people want to talk to God alone in church.”
Isabel gave the woman another once-over. “She might be happy to talk to someone who answers back.”
