Page 14 of The Forever Christmas Tree

Easier said than done!

I should have asked Aunt Mildred if Ethan ever came back.

After all these years of banning any mention of his name, she would think I still care.

And I don’t.

Really!

That would be crazy!

Aaarrgh!

Wendy parked in the slot indicated, and turned off her engine. She undid her seat belt and turned to Diane. “Hey, Grizz, wanna go outside and get some air?”

Diane shifted in her seat and turned her head without moving the rest of her body. Scarcely opening her lids a crack, she asked, “Are we there?”

“Not yet. We’re on the Bell Cove Ferry.”

“Another ferry!” Diane exclaimed, which caused Wendy to laugh. The first ferry ride had prompted squeals of delight from Diane. The second, not so much. And now, Diane said with a wide yawn, “I’ll pass,” and turned away, scrooching lower in the seat with her head resting on the window. “Wake me up when we get there.”

Wendy got out of the car, and tightened her sixteen-year-old Lands’ End down jacket around her body. The pale blue, puffy coat, a gift from her father on her fourteenth birthday, never wore out. She thought about opening the trunk to get a hat out of her duffel bag, but decided not to bother. She noticed that most folks stayed in their vehicles, not wanting to brave the brisk winds. Plus, they were mostly commuters, accustomed to the scenery, and not lured into the coffee shop by the cheap coffee and stale donuts.

There was a time when Wendy traveled this ferry daily, back and forth to high school, usually with Ethan sitting beside her. Bell Cove had its own elementary/middle school up to eighth grade, but after that students had to go to the consolidated high school that served a number of the towns on the Outer Banks.

More memories!

The temperature wasn’t really that bad today, probably in the fifties, but the wind was fierce, making the chill factor about forty, or lower. The waves lapping against the boat were choppy, but that didn’t bother Wendy. She’d grown up on the waters of the Outer Banks, where she’d become a world-class sailor and diver, not to mention a marathon swimmer, all of which were assets that led to her joining the WEALS.

After taking note of a fishing boat in the distance and a flock of sea birds wheeling overhead, she inhaled deeply of the salt air. In Coronado, where she lived, they had the Pacific Ocean, but somehow the air and the water seemed different here, sweeter, when it came off the Atlantic Ocean and Bell Sound.

She moved around the wheelhouse toward the front of the boat where the only passengers visible were a man and a young girl in a wheelchair. She paused, not wanting to intrude on their privacy.

The girl, probably preteen, wore a pink fake fur coat with a matching earmuff headband. On her feet, propped on the wheelchair footrests, were pink sparkle Uggs. Very tween chic! She appeared to be coaxing her father into something. Tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder in the coquettish manner young girls practiced with their fathers, she made coaxing motions with her fingertips, wheedling, “Please, Dad, please. Just one. Please.” Her father smiled and shook his head. Once, when he turned to stare out over the waters, the girl wheeled her chair to his other side and proclaimed, “You’re a grinch!” She didn’t say it in an insulting way, though, and her father just laughed. Finally, he pulled a bill from his pocket and handed it to her. Quickly, before he changed his mind, the girl whipped her wheelchair around expertly and headed toward the coffee shop, yelling over her shoulder, “Thank you, Dad. You’re the best scrooge in the world.”

The man stared fondly after his departing daughter, but then he looked over to the side and did a double take as he noticed Wendy standing there. Frozen in place.

It was Ethan.

Oh, no! No, no, no!

He looked so good. The same, but older, obviously. His dark hair was short. Not military short, but shorter than was the fashion today. Blue eyes were framed with the same incredibly long and sexy lashes that had enthralled her an eon ago. His athlete’s body was tall and still lean, clearly outlined by the wind against his jeans and a lightweight, gray North Face jacket.

Be still my heart! No, no, no! No hearts. Just hormones. Being in the military, surrounded by attractive special ops men all the time, she should be immune to the appeal of a good-looking man. She was. Usually. But not now. Down, hormones, down!

Her first reaction was to turn tail and run. But she couldn’t do that. What kind of “hard-assed, ever-battle-ready” female SEAL was she if she jumped ship and bailed at the first obstacle? Buck up, sailor. You know the drill. Show no fear. “Ethan,” she said, stepping forward.

For a brief blip of a second, he gazed at her with hunger, the expression on his face one she recognized from their old days together. It bespoke not just love, but a forever love, the kind of love that only comes once in a lifetime.

Or until a better opportunity comes up.

His expression immediately changed to one of hostility, or was it hurt? “Wendy! What’s a hotshot Rambo like you doing in little old Bell Cove? Come to favor the small town masses with your presence?”

She almost flinched, barely catching herself. “Whoa! Rude much?” she snapped back. Then in an ultrasweet voice, she went on, “Hello to you, too, Ethan. What’re you doing back in Bell Cove?”

To his credit, he looked a little shame-faced at his impoliteness and revealed, “I live here.”

“Huh? I thought you’d be a practicing vet, like you always planned, living off the island.”