Chapter Ten

They arrived at the lighthouse parking lot and Emmie had to crane her head back to take it all in. The imposing structure towered over its dominion, bright white paint covered the conical tower, reaching about two hundred feet in the sky. It made her feel tiny and insignificant.

Coleson slipped on his dark sunglasses and plopped his baseball cap backward on his head before he gripped her hand. He led her to the large house that served as the family quarters for the men who maintained their watch over the bay. Nowadays, it was a gift store. With the advancement of more sophisticated and effective navigational technology, lighthouses were an outdated maritime tool. Still, they were a gorgeous shoreline décor.

They entered the cool interior of the gift shop, with wooden floorboards that creaked as they walked. There was a stillness in the atmosphere of the old house, as if it cried out to be rescued from the archaic service.

“Hello,” a woman said as she came from a different part of the house. “Welcome to the Parrmer Point Lighthouse.”

“Thank you,” Coleson said.

Emmie pulled up a photo of her brother and held it out to the woman. “Does this man look familiar? He visited sometime last year.”

The woman looked and immediately smiled. “Oh, yes, I do remember him. He was with his girlfriend and they didn’t stray too far from one another.”

Emmie smiled. “They were in love.”

“Very much.”

“He was my brother,” Emmie explained and slipped her phone back into her pocket. “He, um, passed away and I just…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear,” the woman said.

“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “He was happy here. I’m just trying to find a way to let him rest in peace.”

The woman walked over to her and took hold of Emmie’s hand. “He and his girlfriend went to the top. Please, feel free to explore.”

Coleson stepped forward and reached for his wallet. “How much?”

The woman shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I offer my condolences.”

“Thank you,” Emmie whispered, blinking rapidly to halt the imminent fall of tears.

Coleson took her hand again and led her back outside to the footpath that led to the lighthouse’s entrance. Emmie wiped the moisture from her cheeks.

“I very much hate crying,” she muttered.

“Crying helps you heal.”

“It makes me feel weak.”

“You’re not weak.” He squeezed her hand. “You’ve handled all this by yourself, so your shoulders are heavy. But that doesn’t make you weak.”

She didn’t reply. Truth was, Jacoby had always teased her when she’d cry over the dumbest stuff, and she knew he wouldn’t want her to do that over his memory.

When they entered the lighthouse, a sign proclaimed that there were two hundred and nineteen steps and they walked up at their own risk. Several people came down the spiral, metal staircase. They smiled at Emmie and Coleson. Then, it was their time to go up.

Walking up a winding two hundred and nineteen steps was no laughing matter. By the time they reached the top, both were panting. Sweat dotted their foreheads.

“Jesus,” Coleson muttered. “I thought I was in shape.”

“Oh, good,” she huffed. “I don’t feel so bad now we’re both hacking up a lung.”

He grinned and once they got their heart rates under control, they explored the watch room, where obviously men watched for any ships getting too close to the rocky shore. Emmie suddenly understood how Rapunzel felt trapped in her tower. They continued up and came out on the gallery deck. A high railing encircled the perimeter, offering a false sense of security. The cool breeze coming off the bay fluttered her hair as she breathed in the brine-scented air.

The view took her breath away.

Gripping the railing, she closed her eyes and thought of Jacoby. She could almost feel him with her, his ghostly presence using the breath of wind as his own, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. One more piece of her broken heart mended. In her head, she wished him goodbye. When she opened her eyes, Coleson’s attention centered on her, offering a tender smile.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“We’ve just begun.”

She looked at him with uncertainty. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bore you with…”

He placed a finger over her mouth, effectively shutting her up. “I wouldn’t have volunteered if I didn’t want to, and I’m not bored.”

Emmie nodded. For a moment, their gazes locked and something sparked within her soul. More than desire. Deeper than a craving. By the way his finger traced her lip, she knew he had to be on the same wavelength.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, and for a moment she thought he meant the carnal kind of hunger. Then her belly rumbled and one of his eyebrows shot upward mockingly. “I think that answers my question. How about we get some lunch and figure out our next destination?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

****

He drove them through town, stopping at a bustling diner at the end of Main Street. A plethora of delicious scents greeted them as they stepped inside.

“You can sit anywhere,” one of waitresses called out.

Coleson took hold of her hand and led her over to a booth. As soon as they sat, another waitress hurried over with menus.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Iced tea, please,” she replied.

“Same.”

With a smile, the woman hurried away.

“What are you in the mood for?” Coleson asked, looking over his menu.

He hadn’t taken off his sunglasses or his baseball cap, and she wished she could see his beautiful cerulean eyes. She perused the menu.

“I’m going to get the club sandwich,” she said. “You?”

“Steak and eggs, baby.” He patted his flat belly. “I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re a six-foot-something behemoth,” she commented dryly. “You grow anymore and you’ll not fit through the door.”

He chuckled.

When the waitress came back, they placed their orders. Emmie tasted the iced tea, grimacing at the bitter tang, and grabbed a few sweetener packs to dump into her drink. Coleson did the same.

“Do you have your brother’s journal?” he asked.

“In the car,” she replied. “There were a few places he mentioned more than once. Like the lighthouse and ice cream parlor. He also wrote about some waterfall in the national park.”

“It might be too late in the day to visit that now,” he said.

Emmie pursed her lips. “Okay. We can go tomorrow to that one. He also mentioned a flea market in the Mermaid Wharf. They don’t actually sell fleas, do they?”

He blinked. “Are you joking?”

She tilted her head, waiting for him to answer.

“You’re not joking.” He shook his head. “No, they don’t sell fleas. Well, maybe if there are animals being sold, but I doubt that on a pier. Anyway, vendors set up and sell previously owned items.”

She frowned. “What sort of previously owned items?”

“Clothes. Shoes. Knickknacks. Odds and ends. Stuff like that.”

“Why would people buy used stuff?”

“I guess you’ve never shopped at a thrift store,” he said. “Well, lots of different people shop at flea markets. You can find some great bargains for great prices.”

It still didn’t make any sense to her. “But why call it a flea market?”

“That I don’t know.” Coleson grinned at her. “Just wait. You’ll see what I mean.”

Once served, they finished lunch quickly and Coleson insisted on paying for it. He placed a hand on her lower back and steered her back to his car. After sitting down and putting her seat belt on, Emmie tapped into her phone while he slid behind the wheel.

“Okay,” she said, reading. “It’s from a French translation. Le marché aux puces . Literally means market of fleas. Are you sure they’re not selling them there?”

“Positive.” He plugged the address into his phone and a moment later the first direction popped up. Then he pulled out onto Main Street and headed east. “It’s a half hour drive. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself.”

“Pretty sure I’m boring.”

He shot her a quick glance. “Nothing about you is boring.”

“My ex-fiancé would beg to differ.”

“You’re engaged?”

“I was engaged,” she clarified. “For about two seconds. It was arranged. I was always afraid of my parents, but after my brother died, I didn’t give a shit about anything anymore. How about you? Ever engaged?”

“Nope. Never found the one woman I wanted to grow old with, and I’m not interested in settling down without the right person.”

They arrived at Mermaid Wharf, and Emmie couldn’t believe her eyes. The five-hundred-foot wooden walkway extended out across the Atlantic Ocean with the entire structure enclosed. Coleson parked and waited for her to reach his side, taking hold of his hand as he held it out. Once more, sunglasses perched on his nose and his baseball cap pulled low, as if he was trying to hide. As someone who had, on occasion, used disguises to fool the public, his actions were suspicious.

People swarmed around, and they blended into the flow, heading up the steps to a variety of souvenir shops, fashion storefronts, craft stores, and the promised flea market. There was so much stuff to see, Emmie was afraid of missing something. She understood now why Jacoby had liked this place. It was busy, loud, and the scents drifting from the various food stands were mouthwatering.

The flea market was a revelation. Antiques, jewelry, old clothes and hats, toys, cookware. Everything. Everywhere she looked. Her eyes couldn’t get wide enough to look at everything. Before she knew it, she had an armful of things she probably didn’t need, but wanted nonetheless. Especially the old jewelry. It almost felt like they belonged to her. That she had to take care of the beautiful old pieces. Coleson had a hard time not smiling at her, but she didn’t care. She was having fun and handed over cash to pay for her goodies.

As the sun set, the night-lights came on, bathing the area in a fun, carnival theme. Coleson bought her a funnel cake, another thing she’d never tried before. Heaven. Truthfully, there was so much she’d been exposed to on this quest to reconnect with Jacoby, and she wondered if this was how her brother had felt. Why he’d fallen in love with Anchorridge Cove and had plans to move here.

Finally, the pier closed and it was time to return home. She half-dozed on the way back to the beach houses, and when Coleson pulled into her driveway, all her tiredness disappeared in a blink.

“I know we don’t know each other all that well,” she said. “But I was wondering if you’d like to stay at my place tonight. The kind of staying that has you eating breakfast with me in the morning.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure?”

She frowned. “Unless you don’t want to. I don’t normally do this type of thing. Invite men I’ve only met a short time ago to stay over, but I’ve had this need to break out of my gilded cage. Only if you want to, of course.”

He lifted her chin with a finger. “Of course I want to. I only hope I’m not making you feel like you have to.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I like you, Coleson.”

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I like you too, Emmie.”

“Then, please come in.”

With a tender smile, he nodded.