Foster shrugged. “I don’t think there’s any harm in it. He feels powerless, and researching gives him something to focus his energy on.” He gave his wife a pointed look. “Kind of like you with your whole thing about all of us needing to be in one place to ride out the storm. It’s human nature to try to control what little we can when it feels like everything else is out of control.”
“That was a safety issue,” she reasoned. “And no one listened to me, anyway.”
“They listened. They just decided that they ultimately needed to do what was best for them individually. And I think we can all agree that it’s certainly not best for Edie, Josh, and Cal to be under one roof.”
“I don’t think it’s even best for those three to be in the same zip code.”
“I’m with you on that one.” Foster leaned forward and placed a kiss on Camille’s forehead before drawing back to give her the sweetest look. This man and the way he adored her was absolutely precious. “I’m heading over to the jobsite to make sure the storage units are locked up and all the tools are stowed inside them. I’ll be back within the hour.”
“You’re going out in this?”
“I don’t really have a choice. Donnie said he drove by and the guys had left all their junk laying around. Didn’t put anything away or lock things up. Didn’t even close the gate. I can’t afford to lose my equipment, and right now, it’s just begging to be stolen.”
“But it sounds like you can afford to lose some of those employees.”
“They’re just young kids. They’ll learn. Plus, it’s not easy finding people willing to do construction these days. Least not around here.” He shouldered into his raincoat and fit a cap with theSpaulding Constructionlogo onto his silver hair that had gotten long enough to curl out the bottom. “I’ll be back in an hour, tops. Promise.”
“Don’t make me send out a search party for you. Because I will.”
“Oh sweetheart, don’t I know it.”
She gave her husband a hug, the kind that lasted longer than normal and held tighter than necessary. But it was necessary, for her, at least.
Foster was right. Camille didn’t know how to control this, and the paranoia that resulted was her way of managing what little shecouldcontrol. Of course, she knew she couldn’t control the decisions of others, but maybe she could influence them. Sway them a little. Help them understand her reasoning behindher need for the people she loved so dearly to stay safe and out of harm’s way.
Especially her new husband.
Her arms bound around him, clinging to his body.
“You’re going to have to let me go, Camille.” He could pull out of her arms if he really wanted to. Foster was a large man with an impressive strength—much stronger than Camille’s persistent embrace that had turned into something like a death-grip. “Sweetheart.”
“I can’t keep you here forever? With me?”
“Of course, that’s the plan. Why else would I have married you if I didn’t want to be bound to you for life? But this whole physical restraint part?” He peeled one arm from his waist, then the other, then gave her the most empathetic smile she fully knew she didn’t deserve. “I have to work so I can provide the life of our dreams. And a construction crew without tools won’t get us there. I promise, as soon as I’ve got everything locked up, I’ll head home.”
She still loved the sound of that:home. Knowing hers would forever be with Foster created a peace she hadn’t experienced in years. A sense of absolute security that she truly didn’t think was possible with a man. Not after the way things had ended with her ex-husband, Mark.
Reluctantly, she put on her best brave face and watched Foster leave. It was silly. He wasn’t headed out on some lengthy voyage. He was just driving down to the jobsite, for goodness’ sake. But there was still an ache of helplessness that took the place of his presence, filling that void. A throb of worry that switched places with reason.
Camille didn’t like this feeling of powerlessness. It made her wheels spin, her thoughts race.
Making a cup of chamomile tea was the only tangible thing she could do to attempt to calm these rising nerves. As shewaited for the pot to heat on the stove, she looked out the big bay window toward the ocean. It was even more active today than yesterday. Waves stretched, curled, and slammed with a vengeance, almost in response to the change in weather. Everywhere she looked, there was water. Falling from the sky, battering the shore, flooding the gutters that would need to be cleaned out sooner than later. It was a massive deluge with no real hope of letting up anytime soon.
The squeal of the teapot snapped her from her reverie, effectively yanking Camille out of her thought spiral.
Those dang thoughts. That overactive imagination. When she was young, people would always comment how creative she was. Her teachers would reward her storytelling with high marks and straight A’s. But as an adult, the what ifs and worst-case scenarios weren’t written down as papers she could turn in for a letter grade. No, they often remained tucked up in her head, building in drama and scale until she couldn’t keep any of it to herself.
That’s when she ended up doing something ridiculous, like insist that everyone be within arm’s reach during the storm. She knew she sounded crazy—sometimes she wondered if she truly was—but it was the way her brain worked, and she didn’t know how to untangle herself from any of it.
With a sigh, she poured a cup of tea for herself and another for Skip, then joined him in the reading room where he sat in his favorite chair with a laptop perched upon his knees.
She handed him the cup—the one with the drizzle of honey, just the way he liked it—and took a seat next to him. Of everyone, Skip was closest to Camille when it came to an overactive imagination. Maybe that’s why she’d always felt like they were kindred spirits. Like minds. “Any luck finding out more information about the missing sailors?”
“They’ve identified the captain of the boat.”
“As in—?” Her heart lurched.
“Oh, no, no, no. They haven’t found any bodies or anything like that. Just located the log. Said to be a chartered fishing expedition with four other fellas, so five in total. Pretty wealthy guys, too. Sounds like they forked over a few grand each to take the tour.”
