Gathering of Angels(52)

“Good. Because that great fool is in love with you. He’ll find his way back, honey. You got under his skin, and he’ll be scratching that itch until he realizes it’s you.”

“Excellent.” Claire shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. “I sound like a rash.”

Annie burst out laughing. “You’ve been hanging around me too long.”

“I expect to do much more of it—especially if I’m helping you plan the wedding.”

“Are you sure? Because if—”

“Nothing would make me happier.” Kissing Annie’s cheek, she pushed herself up, her leg aching. “Can you give Eric my apologies? I need to be alone for a while.”

“Sure, honey.” Annie stood, followed her to the door, concern in the warm brown eyes. “You need to talk, call me. No matter what time.” She opened the door. “Enjoy the sunset.”

“How did you get in past all my defenses? I never expected to have a friend, never mind one I consider a sister.”

“Oh, damn.” Annie hugged her. “Now get out of here, so I can get sloppy all over my man.”

Claire smiled—until Annie closed the door. With a sigh, she limped out of the building, aching and heartsick, and tired of feeling sorry for herself. She headed for the beach, glad to see there were few people on the boardwalk. The cool evening, and a brisk wind that promised rain kept most people inside.

Standing on the boardwalk, she watched the sun set over the ocean. Her hand went to the amethyst pendant at her throat, remembering as she closed her fingers over it. She paid Lea far more than it was worth—enough to replace her shop window, and repair any damage. She looked forward to visiting soon, walking through the shop in daylight, without a vengeful ghost dogging her.

The bracing wind turned cold. With a sigh, Claire stirred, buttoning her sweater. She walked along the boardwalk, headed back to Forest—and halted when a tall figure stepped out of the shadows.

“Annie told me I’d find you here.”

“Simon—” She limped forward; he met her halfway, lifting her in his arms. She wrapped both arms around his neck and held on for a long moment. Easing back, she met the clear green eyes. “You’re early—by about a week.”

“I had business close by, decided to extend my vacation.” He lowered Claire to her feet, took her hand. “So this is your beach. I like it.”

“Simon.” He glanced down at her. “Talk.”

With a sigh, he started walking along the boardwalk, slow enough for her to keep up. Her leg still bothered her, and would most likely be her weak point. She never blamed Eric—and he didn’t remember hurting her, which made it easy to keep it from him.

“The deaths in Huntsville are still an open case. I resigned last week, before they could boot me out. Don’t start, Claire—I never planned on staying, and the new chief had no choice. Too much went unexplained, and I look mighty suspicious, coming from another town with similar deaths.”

“Simon—”

“So here I am. Fresh start. The business was with a local church. I just signed on as the resident priest.”

“You’re staying?”

“Looks like.”

Claire smiled, sandwiched his hand. “You owe me a story.”

“Same goes, sweetheart.”

“Can you call me that, being a priest and all?”

“Yes.” He leaned in. “And you are not going to distract me forever.”

Her heart skipped. He was right. Sooner or later, he would have to know. She voted for later.

“Simon.” He looked down at her, strong, proud, gentle. A good man. A friend she knew she would treasure. “Welcome home.”



~*~