Free Handle with Care by Emily Porterfield Page B

Abby hadn’t had a chance to see the lighthouse up close.
     
    As
she was walking, a patrol car pulled up next to her. It was Paul, the sheriff
who had given her his card after Craig spoke to him about protecting her. He
drove slowly along the graveled park road, keeping pace with her steps. Taking
the not-so-subtle hint, she turned to look at him.
     
    "Everything
alright today, Abby?" he asked. "Anyone giving you any trouble?"
     
    Abby
managed a smile and shook her head. "Everything’s fine," she replied.
     
    "Are
you sure?" he asked, meeting her gaze pointedly. "I got word you were
heading out."
     
    "Word?"
Abby asked suspiciously. She wondered how he could possibly know she planned to
leave.
    "Yes.
When you notify the marina a boat will be vacant, they notify me. It’s so I
know which boats are empty and which are occupied," he calmly explained.
    Abby
nodded slowly as his words began to make sense to her. She had called the owner
of the marina earlier that day to make sure her uncle's boat would be taken
care of and maintained after she left.
    "So,
you are leaving?" His good nature meant she was willing to overlook
how nosy he was being.
     
    "Tonight,"
Abby confessed and grimaced when Paul's face grew serious.
     
    "Did
something happen to make you uncomfortable here?' he asked.
     
    "No,
not at all," Abby replied with a slow shake of her head. "I’ve
decided it's time I face the people back home. The ones who think I have
something to hide."
     
    Paul
chuckled as he leaned back in his seat. "I don't know, Abby. Seems to me,
people like that shouldn't be worth your time, or a plane ticket." He
shrugged and started the engine on the car. "Just so you know, you're
always welcome here." He gave her a short wave and drove away.

Abby stared after him. His words struck her as she watched his car disappear
down the road. Maybe he is right. What do any of those people back in Philly
matter to me, anyway? The truth was Abby didn’t like any of them. She had
no interest in defending herself. So why am I going back? She was still
absorbed in thought, contemplating it, when she reached the lighthouse.
    * * *

Chapter 10 ~ Serenade
    Abby
spent about an hour sitting at the edge of the water, watching the light waves
ripple past, absorbing and internalizing the peace of her surroundings.
Philadelphia was so much faster paced than Winchester Bay. When she first
arrived, she thought the town to be quaint, strange and backwards. But now she
reveled in its charm. It was nice to not feel pressured, not worry about
traffic or care about the latest restaurant of choice. All of those things
didn't really matter, especially when compared to water tickling her bare toes.She sighed contentedly, as she once again considered
heading back to the boat. But the idea of not seeing Craig at least one last
time, and not wanting to disappoint Chloe, kept her exactly where she was.
     
    By
the time she walked back to the lighthouse, it was a few minutes after four,
the sun hanging much lower in the sky. Abby spotted a picnic table with a
red-and-white checked tablecloth, anda large
picnic basket with two wine glasses beside it. She thought it a little strange,
as she didn’t see anyone when she looked around. There was no sign of Craig or
Chloe. Where are they? She sighed, then decided to sit down at the
picnic table and wait.
     
    Craig
stepped out of the parking lot and walked around the side of the lighthouse. When
he spotted Abby at the picnic table, his heart leaped into his throat and
stayed there. He wondered what he should say to her, what she might say to him.
He walked up behind her and spoke in his easy tone.
     
    "Some
picnic you’ve put together. Thank you!" He paused beside the table. Abby
looked up at him with surprise, a hint of relief showing in her expression.
    "What do you mean?" She was puzzled by his words. "Chloe invited
me here. Didn't you put this picnic together?"
     
    Before
he had a chance to answer, music started