Chapter 1

© Copyright 2008 by Elizabeth Delayne

Amy Carpenter Johnson had grown up on the beach, in the world revolved around the need for perpetual summer and sunshine. She’d tried, for most of her life, to live in its fold. Even now her mother’s memory followed her there, into the sand, the gentle roll of the waves, and the always changing view of the sky.

The air was cool for spring on the California coast. The waves drew up to the shore with a rush and slowly slide back, their casual cadence a comfort. The beaches were dotted with college kids and families, already arriving for a pre-memorial day vacations. Soon the local schools would be out for the summer and the beaches would be packed.

The sounds would change, the feel would change. Life guards, already on duty, would be out in full force. She knew the beach. She knew the patterns, the feel. The life. It was part of who she was, part of the person her mother had been.

And as much as Amy wished for her center to be opened at the beginning of the summer, it just wasn’t going to happen. Local forces had slowed down the construction too many times over the last two years. Even now they were fighting for support from the city to invest in the meaning and future.

Not everyone...but there were a handful of locals that still tried to hold her to the past–that blamed her for one night long ago. For her mistakes and her choices, even though every one else fled the scene, she had been the one who stayed.

They couldn’t let go.

And to some degree, Amy thought, it had nothing to do with her at all. But her father, and his success. And her mother ... and all that she had meant to the town.

A writhing, hateful jealousy.

As far as she was concerned, that wasn’t a reason to stop.

Not anymore.

Inside the warm, cavernous building, the sound of the ocean was lost under the cacophony of power tools. Amy met there with her general contractor, as it was where he’d pulled her nearly an hour before. He had the plans spread out on a makeshift table between two saw horses. There were several pages, for several floors, several views, and more information on structure than Amy would ever understand.

She didn’t need to understand the skeletal workings of a building, when she knew the heart. She left the rest up to Bob. He knew his business, had been hand selected to conduct the project by her father.

And most importantly, he remembered her mother. Fondly.

He had the face that somewhat reminded her of a bulldog, large hands that were a testament to the decades he’d put into construction and a voice that was dusty from years of smoking. He pointed over the blueprints before them with his thick fingers, discussing a to a few details he’d called her about. This needed to be done, and this.

He thought she would have some input. If she knew half of what he was talking about, she might have obliged him. Just because her maiden name was Carpenter, didn’t mean she knew a thing about carpentry besides the basic hammer and nails.

All these little details and decisions only made Amy restless. For her, the building was life ... it throbbed with possibilities. It need to be opened to the people, to the kids that roamed the sandy shores.

She turned around and looked toward the doors, where the windows eventually would be, openning the darkened gym up to a full view of the ocean. This was where she spent the money simply for her mother’s memory. She wanted to bring the ocean inside, so while the kids could be safe and have a place, they would never lose sight of the simple and powerful beauty.

In so many ways, the power and remembrance of God’s work in her life was reflected in the rolling waves. She needed that image and she wanted it for her center.

She wanted it finished.

Amy put a hand to her back and nearly sighed as the door opened and her husband of just under eight months stepped through. He was dressed in his uniform, khaki shorts and a short sleeve shirt. His long, muscled legs were toned and tanned from his work on the beach, and his hair was gilded at the tips.

He walked over to her and dropped a casual kiss on the top of her head.

“There you are.”

“Where you left me.”

“Almost,” he looked up, around the construction, taking it in. He hadn’t been inside in a week. He was still amazed that the changes were happening so fast.

But not fast enough for either of them.

Not two years ago, they’d bought it ... or rather, Amy’s father helped them acquire the old Springs Restaurant. They’d knocked down the restaurant and started over, building tall to enclose a gym and several floors. Space on the strip was at a premium. They had expanded some out into the back, taking up precious parking space, but they were banking that teens coming to the center would probably come on foot.

They would have a full basketball court, half pipe, weight and classrooms on the inside, with room for a full pipe and volleyball court on the beach outside. There were other rooms for tutoring and classes, rooms to learn CPR and others to learn leadership and decision making, rooms for counseling and rooms for celebration.

Derek slid his arm around Amy as she finished up with Bob. The contractor talked samples and woods, had even ventured into industrial restroom fixtures, and she simply nodded her head and shifted restlessly on her feet. The physical details weren’t important to her.

The heart of the place was.

The Mallory Carpenter Center.

It brought the events of the last three years into focus–brought the events of her entire life in to focus. Instead of letting the life and decisions of a madman continue to shape her, remind her of her own mistakes, Amy was using the life she’d nearly destroyed–her own life–and hoping to give kids what she’d nearly missed.

A place to belong. A place to develop their talents, build friendships ... establish a community.

Others didn’t see it that way. This week, in fact, he’d personally dealt again with a two of the city-council members that were making their efforts to open hard. They had spoken out against a vision they had ignored, and tabled the discussion to provide funds that would help staff the center in the future, pay for water bills, and keep things going.

Derek turned her to face him as Bob walked away, barking orders at the handful of men who were working around them–content that he’d somehow gotten answers out of her. They seemed to work well together, as she stayed out of his way.

Amy looked up at Derek, fighting off the nausea that seemed to be her constant companion.

“How you two doing in there?”

She laughed as he placed a hand on her stomach. “Still queasy, still tired.”

“Your dad is at the house with Anna overseeing the work there. How about I walk you home and we scrounge up some lunch?”

“I think I can manage that.”



He kept his eye on her, Amy thought as he took her hand in his and led them out the door. While she fought the impatience with his constant overseeing eye, she was grateful. Without him, she’d forget to be still.

And sometimes, that was what she needed most.

They’d had a good scare nearly a month ago–a late night visit to the hospital that had turned into a short stay. The doctor had threatened bed rest if she didn’t slow down.

And slowing down was hard. It was like this moment, this center, was part of everything she’d lived for ... part of everything she’d lost. She wanted to throw every part of herself into it. She wanted to be driving the nails herself ... and quite possibly driving her contractor absolutely mad.

She stepped with Derek onto the warm sand and waited as he stopped to pick up her shoes that she’d habitually kicked off. She took in a deep breath, and felt the gentle sweep of the ocean rolled through her. How could you get more relaxed then moments like this–the beach, the sun, the waves?

And walking hand in hand with the man you loved?

Who loved you?

Some people would consider that a vacation.

Instead, it was her life. It wasn’t perfect. They tended to argue more often then not. Derek was a decisive, contemplative, calm, she was an avoider ... an agonizer, and in many ways impatient in the things that made her run over his feelings. He’d been patient though, and she would never forget that. He’d courted her through the trial of the man who’d gone after her father, killed her mother and brother instead, and who’d turned his revenge on her.

From the ocean she watched the familiar silhouette push up on his board and catch a smooth wave. The long yellow board seemed to crest effortlessly and glide, with the grace of an oceanic dance.

Amy felt the familiar twitch in her toes, the rush of wind on her face, as she stopped and watched.

As the surfer emerged onto the sand, dragging his board, Amy waved to him.

“Nice ride,” she said as she took Derek’s hand.

Daniel Morey—known as Cage to everyone who knew him—pushed his wet hair back and squinted through the sunlight. He looked ... simply California with his curly golden hair slicked back, strong cheekbones and rich blue eyes. His muscular build filled out his wetsuit that glinted under the sun. His father was something of a local celebrity in his own right, owning a handful of beach front shops of which Cage worked in and managed.

She was still hoping he’d change his mind. She wanted him as part of her team.

He reminded her so much of Ryan—and was, she thought, the embodiment of the brother she’d lost. He and Ryan had been close, soul brother’s they’d claimed.

“Forecast was a off. I was hoping for a more,” he glanced back out to the ocean where a few others still waited to catch the waves.

“Storm slowed up at sea ... should be getting here by tonight,” Derek said.

“Yeah,” Cage turned back, shuffled his feet in the sand. He looked down at Amy, took in her shape, and seemed even more uncomfortable. With Cage, she knew, she was her brother’s little sister, but it had been a long time since he’d been uncomfortable around her.

Something was wrong, and it was more than the fact that she was married and pregnant.

“We are just coming from the center. You should drop by. See the place.”

He grinned, but it wasn’t quite the easy going Cage grin she was used to. Normally, his smile would take over his face, all the way to his eyes where laugh lines had long ago formed.

The grin now was simply ... too simple.

“I should.”

“Cage—“

”Just one more wave,” he murmured. “I think I can get in one more before work.”

She sighed softly as she leaned against Derek as they walked, her toes shifting the sand. Up ahead she spotted their little weathered yellow house up above the sea.

Their home.



“When’s Chloe getting here?”

“Sometime before dinner,” they glanced up toward the ceiling at the loud thud from the second floor. The renovation and construction had begun. It was a gift from her father, the proud, if somewhat reluctant, grandfather.

“I hope they can manage to hold the house together until I get back.”

Derek chuckled and leaned in close, placing a hand on either side of her against the counter. The advantage of having a small house was that it was easy to hold her still.

“I hope they finish soon. I’m going to miss my wife.”

“You could always join us for the week. Andrea’s house is more than big enough.”

“For a hen party?”

“I don’t think you could or should call any of us hens. It’s only for a few days. And I’m expecting you to remember that I’m only a few miles away.”

He closed his eyes and breathed her in. He shouldn’t be worried ... but he was.

“We should have known better then to leave the newlyweds alone for too long.”

Amy laughed and pushed out of his arms. Her father and Anna–a somewhat potential stepmother–stood in the doorway of the kitchen. It was Anna that had spoken, oddly enough, now the friendlier of the two. She wore her dark brown hair down now so that it streamed over her shoulders. She was off duty in casual blue capris and a soft cream colored shirt.

In the last two years she’d begun to mellow out in her off time. She was still a tough cop. Still on the force, though Amy knew her father was trying to talk her into retiring.

Maybe even eventually get married.

The memory of and his love for Mallory Carpenter was fresh for him, especially since the truth came out about Vince’s role and intentions. He’d calmed down and become more of the father Amy remembered; more of a man she could respect. He wasn’t breaking up with and using women left and right. He wasn’t throwing out the memory of her mother as if it meant nothing.

Lance Carpenter was immaculate. He wore dress pants and a tailored shirt—untucked and without a tie. It was Basin Springs, after all.

Derek leaned back on the counter, aware that her father always seemed somewhat edgy if he caught them even holding hands—even though they had been married for nearly ten months.

It made Amy laugh, but it made Derek nervous. Despite the fact that Lance Carpenter was retired from baseball, and held what amounted to a desk job, he was still fit enough to cause damage in a fist fight.

“Everything seems to be set. The windows are in and the men are prepping for their work.” Another thud had the four of them wincing and looking up all over again. “If they can manage to take down the walls without taking down the house.”

“They know what they’re doing,” her father–always the financial mastermind–said. At least Amy could trust that he had chosen reputable men. “And it’s not a wall, just the windows and a little of the surrounding surface.”

“A wall,” Anna muttered.

“Not the whole wall.”

Amy glanced at Derek. He grinned—and was in full agreement with her. If her father and Anna acted more married, they might never get there on their own.

“You’re meeting us tonight at Andrea’s, right?”

Anna leaned close and gave Amy a quick kiss. “Wouldn’t miss it. We’ll go ahead and get out of here. It gets stuffy with four people in this tiny kitchen.”

As they left through the front, Amy went out the back and sat down on the tiny porch steps. Derek followed her, sat down and waited out the nausea. It came and went like the tide, constantly, always there, sometimes ready to roll in with more force then necessary.

And she was grateful Anna had read the signs. Four people in her little kitchen was a little much, especially when one was her father.

“Time to head back.”

She looked over at him, managed a smile. “You’ll meet me at Andrea’s.”

“I’ll be there,” he slid an arm around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “As long as you promise to pack your bags small.”


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