Free Bay Hideaway by Beth Loughner Page A

and she fell into step beside him as they went into the restaurant. When they had ordered and brought their food outside to the red painted picnic table, Nathan pulled out a crisp, white handkerchief to dust off the seat. Judi laughed.
    “What?” Nathan bluntly asked, giving her a quick flash of annoyance as he refolded the handkerchief. “This is one my finest pairs of slacks.”
    “Some things never change,” she replied, finding it hard to keep the silly grin off her face. She pressed her skirt close to her legs and plunked herself down on the other side of the table. “The first thing you need to learn about island life is to lose the dapper duds. We’re a laid-back lot and like to go casual.”
    “I feel more comfortable dressed up,” he defended, slipping the paper wrapper off the straw and stabbing it into the perforated lid of his cup. “People respect the starched and pressed look.”
    “I didn’t mean to offend you,” she apologized, biting her lip to keep from grinning again. Somehow she felt considerably lighter and more relaxed. “Around here, folks respect you for who you are, not what you wear.”
    “You like it here, don’t you?” he asked, as if the idea surprised him.
    She sobered, knowing how she clung to Bay Island like a climbing tea rose to a trellis. It was her home. “I absolutely love this place.”
    Nathan peered into the food bag, pulled out a foil-wrapped hot dog, and handed it to her. “You seem to have made a lot of friends.”
    Judi pushed her own striped straw into her cup, pumping it wistfully up and down. “I know this may sound strange, but starting a new life on Bay Island gave me an opportunity to change who I was—and I like the new person I’ve become.” She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “And yes, I’ve made quite a few new friends who I’ll always cherish. It will never take the place of my own family, though.” A sigh escaped. “I still miss them terribly.”
    Nathan seemed to regard her carefully. “Really?”
    She nodded pensively. “Have you kept in contact with my father?”
    “Some,” he answered, lifting the bun of his hamburger to inspect the contents. He moved the pickles in a symmetrical pattern and replaced the top. His gray eyes regarded her closely. “Your father never cared much for me and in some small way has blamed me for your death, so our contact has been limited.” He shrugged. “But as far as I know, he’s still living in the same place and doing as well as expected.” One eyebrow lifted. “He took your death rather hard.”
    Judi felt her previous lightness slip away and guilt moving in. “And your family?”
    “Mother and Father are still in good health and active as ever,” he answered. “My sister, Laurie, has been promoted to senior editor and brother Jeff is seriously in love for the tenth time. Nothing new.” He gave a wry smile and took a bite of hamburger.
    “That’s the part I hated the most, causing pain to the people I loved. It was a choice I didn’t want to make.” She cast a pleading look asking for understanding. “There was no other way.”
    “Did you think to ask God if your plan was the only way?” Nathan demanded to know, wiping his lips with the thin paper napkin. “God?”
    “You know,” he went on, pointing to the sky, “the God of heaven and earth.”
    “I know
who
you mean,” she assured him. “I just—”
    “You’re simply not used to me talking about Him,” he finished for her. He gave her a searching look. “You’ll appreciate the irony of this. After your so-called death, I turned my life over to Christ… mind, body, and soul. Your faith seemed so strong and just what I needed to grab on to during those agonizing days.” His expression hardened. “But you probably never thought about how I might be affected by your death, did you? Not when you thought I was the devil incarnate.”
    “Nathan—”
    “Did you ever stop to think that I might not have been the