“No wonder she keeps nagging me,” Billy had muttered. “How can I compare to the great hero, Sawyer Trask? So perfect and righteous.”
“Don’t call me that, Billy!” he’d growled, wishing it didn’t get under his skin so much when people touted him as a hero. In his mind he wasn’t a hero. He was an officer in the coast guard, sworn to uphold maritime law. Performing search-and-rescues was just part and parcel of his job duties. He wasn’t anybody’s hero!
“Always so noble,” Billy had spit out. “It must be nice to be perfect.” He’d shaken his head in disgust. “I’m out of here!” he’d shouted, his long legs quickly carrying him to the door. Those were the last words they’d ever spoken to each other.
A hundred times or more since that night, Sawyer had wished he’d stopped Billy from leaving. It was the last time he’d seen his cousin alive. Late that night he’d received the call from a frantic Ava, who hadn’t seen or heard from her husband all evening. For hours he’d driven around town looking for his cousin, to no avail. In the wee hours of the morning he’d received the devastating call from his best friend, Colby, who was a member of his coast guard unit. Billy’s capsized boat had been spotted by the coast guard a few miles out in the harbor. Although everyone had prayed that he’d managed to swim to land, Billy’s body had been found the next day in one of the inlets off Buzzards Bay Harbor. An investigation had concluded that, caught in a minor squall, Billy had drowned after his boat took on water. The fact that Billy had been under the influence had only worsened the life-and-death situation.
Sawyer had never told a single soul about his argument with Billy. He’d been too ashamed, felt too guilty about the fact that his angry words with him might have caused his cousin to spiral downward. But he couldn’t keep this to himself any longer. Not when he’d made a promise to God he’d come clean with Ava after he’d almost died from cholera on the other side of the world.
Chapter Three
As Sawyer drove down Seaview Avenue, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia sweep over him. With his window down he could smell the tangy scent of the ocean as it permeated the air. The high-pitched cries of a flock of seagulls drifted toward him from the beach. The pink gingerbread-style house that sat on the corner of Seaview Avenue and Ocean Street had been there for as long as he could remember. He tooted his horn and waved at the owner, Mrs. Kingston, who was outside watering her rosebushes. She squinted at first, then began to wave enthusiastically as soon as she recognized him. Yes, this was what he’d yearned for while he was overseas. Home. Hearth. A feeling of being connected to his community.
He began to slow his Jeep down as the Trask home came into view, its bright yellow color a departure from the classic Cape Cod–style homes surrounding it. The historic house was built by his great-great-grandfather, sea captain Adam Trask, for his young bride. He’d built a widow’s walk on the second floor so that his bride could look out to sea for his return. His parents had lovingly restored the home when his father had inherited it some thirty years earlier.
Sawyer parked his car in the driveway and made his way to the front door. It swung open well before he even planted a foot on the front porch. His father, Samuel, was standing at the door, a perplexed look plastered on his face. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a barrel chest that spoke of strength. He’d been told on more than one occasion about their shared resemblance—the same caramel skin, full brows and deep set eyes. “Well, come on in, son. We were wondering when you were going to show up,” his father drawled as he pushed open the door and ushered him inside.
Sawyer felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he stepped inside the house and came face-to-face with his mother. Was he about to get a tongue lashing for not immediately coming to the house after his arrival in Buzzards Bay? The moment he saw her, his spirits lifted. After all this time away from home, she was a sight for sore eyes. At barely five feet, she was petite and small boned. Despite her salt-and-pepper hair, she still looked at least ten years younger than her actual age.
At the moment her pretty face was marred by a deep scowl. She placed her hands on her hips. “You’ve been back in town for three days without a word or a call. Nothing!” His mother slashed her hand in the air for emphasis. “Sawyer Trask! I know I’ve raised you better than that!”
He should have known, he thought miserably. In a small town like Buzzards Bay, it was near impossible to keep a secret. As much as he’d thought he could pull it off, word of his arrival had already reached his mother’s ears. So much for his coast guard training in stealth maneuvers!
“Mom, I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “I should have come straight to the house. Or at least called to tell you I was back.” He held up his arms to give her a hug, but she pushed him away.
She looked him over with a critical eye. “You’re so thin,” she said. “What were they feeding you over there?”
Of course his mother noticed his weight loss. With her eagle eye and attention to detail, it wasn’t surprising that she would see what others didn’t. He’d lost twelve pounds during his bout with cholera, most of which he’d put back on in the months afterward. He was still down five pounds or so. His parents had no idea that he’d contracted cholera and had hovered near death for almost a week. By the time he was on the mend, he hadn’t seen the point in telling them about his brush with death. It would only have made them worry about him more, he’d realized. And, despite the risks he frequently assumed in his profession, he didn’t want his parents to lie awake at night thinking about his safety. They had enough to worry about with his younger brother, Daniel.
“I ate plenty over there,” he said with a grin. “Nothing that could compare to your home cooking, but it was decent.” He leaned down and wrapped his long arms around her, lifting her slightly off the floor in the process. She let out a little squeal and ordered him to let her down. When he placed her back down, he planted a kiss on her cheek. The sweet smell of home lingered around her like perfume—the scent of baked apples, cider doughnuts and cinnamon all reminded him of growing up in this loving environment. Warm hugs and down-home cooking came to mind.
Like a whirlwind, his brother, Daniel, came crashing down the stairs. Tall, broad-shouldered and thick, he headed straight for Sawyer, enveloping him in a bear hug that nearly toppled him over. As usual, his enthusiasm was off the charts.
“You’re back! I knew it, I knew it.” Daniel kept him in a tight grip until Sawyer had to practically wrestle his brother in order to come up for air. He put his arm around Daniel and pulled him close. Even though Daniel was twenty years old, he had the childlike nature of a ten-year-old. He was a kind and gentle soul who was often misunderstood because of his developmental disability. People tended to judge him by his physical age and were taken aback by his stunted emotional development.
“Hey, I promised I’d be back by Fourth of July, didn’t I? I’m a month early,” Sawyer pointed out, holding up his palm so Daniel could high-five him.
His father frowned at him. “Where are you staying, son? I know you gave up your condo when you left the country, so I imagine you’re looking for a new place.”
“We’ve got plenty of room here if you need a place to rest your head.” His mother winked at him. “We won’t even charge you rent if you wash a few dishes now and then.”
He rocked back on his heels, his hands stuffed in his front pockets. There was no point in waiting any longer to tell his parents about his new accommodations. He cleared his throat. “Well, I have some news. I bought Mr. P’s lighthouse. It’s my new home.”
“That is so cool!” Daniel shouted. “I can’t wait to sleep over at your house.” He started jumping up and down with excitement and pumping his fists in the air.
His parents exchanged a knowing look. His mother’s lips were pursed. His father was stroking his chin, a contemplative look etched on his face.
“What?