Christmas Haven. Hope White
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less they knew about her plans the safer they’d be.
Thinking of how she’d craft that email to her boss, Andrea, she noticed a text message alert. She clicked on it and the message opened:
I see you.
She gasped and whipped her head around, eyeing the passengers in the immediate area: a group of kids with a parent; a hippie-looking guy curled up and asleep on the bench; a mom with two kids, one in a stroller.
Should she get off the ferry and wait for the next one? Notify ferry personnel?
And say what? That she feared she was being stalked but couldn’t be sure?
She continued scanning other passengers as the ferry started across the water: a businessman in suit and tie, working on his laptop; a threesome of middle-aged folks laughing as one told a story.
Walking toward her was the man who’d asked for directions to the ferry line. He eyed his phone, stopped dead in his tracks and looked right at her. He smiled. Goose bumps pricked down her arms.
She got up and headed for the snack bar, bustling with passengers anxious to fill their stomachs. Look relaxed, casual. You don’t know he was the one who sent the text.
She wandered up to a pack of teenagers who eyed foil-wrapped burgers. The thought of food made her stomach twist into a tighter knot. The hair bristled on the back of her neck, instinct warning her to get away.
She grabbed a sandwich and lined up to check out. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted the car guy in line a few people behind her.
“Seven eighty-seven,” the cashier said.
Julie fumbled in her pocket for cash. Her fingers trembled as she desperately strategized her next move. She handed the cashier a ten and took off, rushing toward the stairs, hoping to hide between the cars below.
Would he jump the line and follow her? She couldn’t think about that, she had to get away, had to—
She raced down the stairs and flung open the door. Rushing up the aisle, she used the cars as cover, ducking between them so as not to be seen. She crisscrossed the ferry and glanced over her shoulder. A tall figure headed toward her.
She stumbled on something and went down, dropping her sandwich and slamming her palms to the ground to brace her fall. But it was too late. She was down and he was close. She could feel his eyes boring into her back.
And saw a shadow loom above her.
* * *
“Hey, you okay?” Morgan Wright asked, kneeling beside the frantic woman.
His instincts piqued when she dodged around the corner and raced for the opposite end of the ferry as if she was a sprinter in the Olympics. They went on red alert when he spotted a tall male make the same turn and search between cars.
“Ma’am?” he tried again. She didn’t answer at first. He’d seen her hit the ground and figured she was out of breath.
“Don’t hurt me,” she gasped.
“You’re okay,” he assured. “I’m a police officer.”
She sat up and the air ripped from his chest. No, it couldn’t be. He’d never forget the face of his first love, never forget her golden eyes or freckles that dotted her nose.
He’d never forgotten Julie Burns, the girl who’d taken a piece of his heart with her when she’d left ten years ago.
Lower lip trembling, she clutched her wrist to her stomach, rocking forward slightly. She still hadn’t looked at him.
A tornado of emotions whipped through his body, from anger to pain to concern. And he had so many questions.
“I… He was…” she choked.
“Take a deep breath,” Morgan said, touching her shoulder for support. That’s what he’d do if she were a stranger. He decided that was the best way to keep his perspective.
To treat her as if she were a stranger.
He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. A tall man, thirties, with slicked-back hair, wearing an overcoat, froze ten feet away. Was it the man who’d been searching between cars? Morgan couldn’t be sure.
“Can I help you?” Morgan stood to his full six feet two inches.
“She forgot her change upstairs.” He hesitated and extended his hand to reveal a few bills and coins.
Morgan reached for it.
“Who are you?” The guy closed his fist.
“A cop.” He flashed his badge. “I’ll take it from here.”
The guy dropped the money into Morgan’s hand and eyed Julie. “Is she okay?”
“She tripped. She’ll be fine.” Morgan glanced at Julie, who still hadn’t looked up, then back at the stranger. “You a friend of hers?”
The guy backed off. “No, I just happened to be in line behind her.”
Uh-huh. Right.
“Good Samaritan type,” Morgan said. “Thought we’d lost all of those. Thanks again,” he said in dismissal.
With a nod the guy disappeared into the stairwell.
Morgan took a deep breath and kneeled beside Julie. She was white as a sheet, dazed and looked as if she was going into shock.
“Jules, hey, it’s really okay.”
She blinked, the sound of her nickname snapping her out of the trance. Glancing at Morgan, she gasped.
“Morgan…” She closed her eyes. “I’m dead, right? I’m dead and went to heaven.”
Interesting that she thought seeing Morgan equaled heaven.
“You’re not dead. Just shaken up.”
She eyed him, a tear trailing down her cheek.
He remembered the last time he’d seen her cry. He thought they were happy tears, but they’d been tears of goodbye.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“To see me in heaven I’d have to be dead and I’m very much alive, which means you’re very much alive.” He sounded like a dork, but finding the right words, any intelligent words, at this point was a challenge.
He was on the ferry headed back home. With Julie.
A scene that had filled his dreams more than once in the years after she’d left.
Shifting into police mode he asked, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I fell.”
“I gathered as much.”
She tipped her head slightly, a habit he’d found endearing years ago.
“Why are you on the ferry?” she asked.
“Coming home from seeing my dad in the hospital. Why are you on the ferry?”
“Mom needs help.”
Short sentences seemed to be all she could utter. He guessed the trauma still buzzed in her system.
“Huh, news to me,” he said. “I saw her yesterday and she looked fine.”
“Housecleaning.”
Now he knew she was half in shock. Edith Burns kept a tidy house, was the most organized person Morgan knew and baked a mean pecan-chocolate pie.
“Housecleaning?” he prodded.
She gave him a quick nod, looking like a little girl.
Don’t do it, Morgan. Don’t get sucked in.
“Did she send you to get me?” she asked.