The Hero (Thunder Point #3)(7)

“It was once. Or it seemed to be,” Devon said.

“It’s not safe now, I can tell. It’s time to get the children out. I think you know that. Now let’s find some eggs. And laugh at my jokes, for God’s sake!” Then she smiled. “You have this one chance. Do it.”

It’s time to get the children out. Those words struck fear in Devon’s heart and she knew she had to act. She had to take the chance that was being given to her. She had to trust Laine. But, once she had made her decision, Devon nearly counted her heartbeats until she and Mercy could escape.

Just as Laine had promised, everything was ready. And, before she knew it, she’d done it.

* * *

Rawley got back to the beach bar around two in the afternoon. He walked in on one of the most unlikely friendships he’d ever known about, and he’d known of some odd ones since Vietnam. Cooper was behind his bar and Spencer Lawson was sitting on a stool facing him. This was a fairly new friendship. As Rawley heard the story, Spencer had been married to an old fiancée of Cooper’s and the poor lady died. She had cancer or something, Rawley recalled. And several months before her death, blood work had been done and revealed that their ten-year-old son, Austin, was actually not Spencer’s biological son, but Cooper’s.

Well, now, Rawley thought. That’ll make or break a man.

But the men had worked it out. In fact, Spencer had just agreed to take a job in Thunder Point so both dads could live in the same town and be parents to one little boy. And ten-year-old Austin had the potential to be spoiled rotten.

“Hey, Rawley,” Cooper said. “How’s your cousin?”

“Huh? Oh, she’s okay. I left her to get a nap, relax or whatever.”

“How long you think she’ll stay?”

Rawley just shrugged. “Can’t say. Might be she doesn’t find an old Vet much fun to live with and just moves on.”

“Well, what brought her here?” Cooper asked.

“You are sure the nosiest som-bitch I know. I don’t have the details, don’t really need the details, but I gather it was a bad situation or something and she needs a place to roost a bit. Don’t matter. I’m happy to give her a bed. She’s got a kid—you don’t just ignore a kid. I don’t want them staying in some damn run-down hotel all alone just because I’m an old coot set in my ways.” He craned his neck and looked out the windows to the beach. “Speaking of kids...”

“Austin’s fishing off the dock with Landon,” Spencer said. “I have to go look at a house in town, even though Austin wants to live in that RV next door for the rest of his life.”

“Ain’t a bad place, as places go,” Rawley said. Cooper’s toy hauler had been operating as a guest house ever since he had finished off the upstairs of the bar into his apartment.

“I’m looking for something a little bigger in the bathroom and kitchen department.” Spencer laughed. “Not to mention less sandy.”

“If you could train someone to wipe his great big ten-year-old feet, you could beat that problem. Have you noticed how big his feet are? Is that normal?” Cooper asked.

“Well, it’s normal on St. Bernard puppies,” Spencer said.

Leaving the men to talk, Rawley went to the kitchen. There was always work to be done—cleaning, stocking, organizing. Now that Cooper had an apartment and a fiancée, he stayed out of there. Cooper could clean his own house, do his own laundry. Cooper liked taking care of the beach, raking up, hauling trash, making sure there was no detritus that could harm people or wildlife. He said it gave him an idea of who used the beach and what they used it for. He maintained his stock of paddleboards and kayaks. And he spent a lot of time visiting with folks in town, on the beach, on the dock, in the bar. Cooper was a natural people person. Rawley had never been much for visiting.

Rawley kept himself busy working around the bar and in the kitchen till about seven-thirty. With the longer days there was plenty of sunlight left; Cooper and Landon could handle the place without him until sunset when folks tended to quit for the day, except those who liked the beach at night and enjoyed their fires.

His phone hadn’t rung all day. He wondered what he’d find when he got home. He had absolutely no idea. She was skittish; she might be gone. The place could be upended, valuables stolen...not that he had much in the way of valuables. But nothing prepared him for what he found when he got there. He could hear the TV upstairs and didn’t want to startle her, so he called from the bottom of the stairs.

She came to the top of the stairs and looked down at him. Her hair was cut right up to the nape, kind of messy-cute, falling over her forehead haphazardly. Gone was that thick mane that hit her butt. “Up here, Mr. Goode,” she said. “Oh, my God, I haven’t seen TV in so long. We had popcorn—I hope that’s okay. You said anything. We didn’t eat much. There’s plenty left. But the TV—my daughter is in a trance. She’s never seen TV.” Then she laughed and her whole face lit up. “Well, she was in a trance and now she’s asleep right on the floor and I’m watching baseball. I love baseball. I haven’t seen a game in years!”

He chuckled and remained at the bottom of the stairs. “No TV at the camp, I take it,” he said.

“No TV, no newspapers, no internet access, no phones. No distractions, no commercialism, no propaganda. At least for us.” There was that grin again. “Oh, how I missed it!”