Free Barefoot Bay: When You Touch Me (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Marilyn Baxter Page A

you….” Jillian’s voice broke on the last word.
    Can’t retire. Can’t leave me with all this to handle by myself.
    “You’ve done so much with the shop,” Jillian continued, her voice wobbling slightly. “You’ll never know how grateful I am for everything. I’m not sure how I’ll manage when you retire and leave the island.” Jillian nibbled her bottom lip as more uncertainty crept in.
    “You still have several months before I hit that magic birthday. I’ll help you come up with a solution. Oh, and don’t forget I’ve been talking to the new baseball team management about carrying their official licensed merchandise. Just think about it. T-shirts, ball caps, all sorts of souvenirs. Isn’t it a great idea?”
    Yes. It was a tremendous idea. But again, once Daphne retired, who would handle it?
    “I’m…astounded at all you’ve done since Mother died. You’ve run the shop, taken care of Becca and the house. I just wish I could talk to Mother about Becca. I wish I could talk to her about everything. I don’t know what to do.” Jillian’s shoulders slumped in a defeated posture.
    “I talked to her just this morning right after I did a sage cleansing of the shop,” Daphne said as she rearranged a row of jam jars. “She said for me to check your aura because she didn’t think it was quite right.”
    Daphne had migrated from licensed baseball merchandise to aura inspection in less than twenty seconds. And Jillian remembered why she had fled Mimosa Key. As much as she appreciated all that Daphne Simmons had done, Jillian’s patience had its limits. She would sooner walk buck naked down Harbor Drive than deal with this on a daily basis.
    Before too long she wouldn’t have to, though. And she needed to come up with some solutions. Soon.
    * * *
    The sun had barely risen when Sam laced his running shoes, pulled on a pair of shorts and a ragged t-shirt and hit the pavement. He jogged from the resort to the intersection of Mimosa Key’s two main streets, then headed east toward the island’s main harbor. He stopped only long enough to take a long drink from a water fountain by the marina office and then retraced his route back to the center of the island. One of the lifeguards had told him about a beach road that ran along the western shore of the island. He found it easily, and he continued along it, appreciating the light wind blowing off the gulf as he ran back toward the resort. When he neared the resort property, he veered off-road to do his cool-down run on the packed sand at the water’s edge. Concentrating on maintaining a steady pace and avoiding traffic had helped block out the memory of the nightmare that had awakened him just before sunrise. The explosion. The smoke. The screams and the blood. His heart didn’t pound as hard running at full speed as it had when he had bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat.
    He had been using the oil thing Jillian had suggested. While it smelled good and seemed to help shut off the chattering in his brain when he put his head on the pillow at night, the nightmares continued.
    And he had learned from experience the only way to recover was to run. Mimosa Key was flat as a pancake and far easier terrain than the mountains where he had grown up. But the humidity was strangling and had him dripping with perspiration before he had reached the halfway point of the course he had plotted out.
    As soon as he felt his heart rate drop and the muscles in his legs stop revolting in agony, he sat on the sand, thankful it was cool and damp. He pulled off his shirt, leaned back on his elbows and then thought, what the hell? He sprawled to his full six feet and let the morning breeze wash over him as he remained motionless, his arm stretched across his eyes to block the sun.
    Why hadn’t he grabbed a bottle of water before he left the villa? Or stopped at the convenience store in the middle of town to buy one? Once his body cooled a little more, he would drag himself to