Chapter 3
Faith

What’s his problem?

Faith watched him storm out the door. Mae just shook her head and gave Faith an apologetic smile.

“It’s nothing personal,” Caleb said as Faith’s brow knitted. “He’s just like that. Sometimes.”

Nothing personal. Caleb was the second person to tell her that.

“I can take you by boat, if you want,” Caleb offered. He had an infectious grin, she had to give him that. But the whole player vibe was a turnoff. She’d met plenty of guys like that back in California. Most of them were in suits and ties, of course. No, maybe it was her cousins and their surfboards that Caleb more closely resembled.

“No, thank you, though,” she said. In her head, she calculated how much time would be saved if she just sucked it up and sat in awkward silence with Alex in the plane for a few minutes. “I’m fine going by air.”

I made it through law school, I can make it through this, she told herself as she stood up.

Faith picked up her plate to take it to the kitchen, but Mae stopped her. “No, dear, don’t you worry about that. Jessie will clean up.”

“Jessie?” Faith asked. How many people live here?

“Yes, she takes care of the lion’s share of cleaning round here. With my help, of course,” Mae said. “She also does a spot of cooking from time to time when Gwen is too busy.”

“Gwen’s the cook,” Lee told her as he scooped another pancake onto his plate.

“Oh.” They have servants? How many? She really was in a strange new land.

“Y’all better get going,” Mae said. “And don’t you fret about Alex. He’s moody, that’s all.”

“Yeah, the kind of mood that lasts four years,” Caleb said quietly.

“Caleb,” Mae said, a warning.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said.

“So where’s the landing?”

“I can show you—”

“Caleb, sit back down,” Mae said. “Faith is perfectly capable of walking the few feet to the strip herself. It’s just the first trail to the right from the front drive. It’ll soon turn to asphalt. Five-minute walk, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. Ma’am.” Faith added as she tested the word out. It felt foreign in her mouth, but nobody seemed to notice.

“Just call me Mama Mae, dear. Or Mama, if you’re comfortable.”

Faith left the thick cloth napkin beside her plate and headed out of the house. The lawn stretched for what seemed to be miles, a rich green like she’d never seen before. In the distance, she caught sight of horse stables. A young man was leading two mares, one brown and one white, toward a fenced-in area.

The morning sun was warm, the early humidity adding a sheen to her skin. Before she’d left California, Natalie had told her, “Southern women don’t sweat, they glow.”

Faith retied her hair as she made her way along the trail. She pulled a ball cap out of her waistband and pulled her hair through the gap in the back. A small prop plane whirred ahead of her, and Alex stood with his back to the trail.

Suddenly, a bundle of nerves exploded in her stomach. Faith ducked behind one of the oaks to calm herself.

Except for the scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face, Alex was incredibly fucking fine. There was no denying it. He was a touch taller than Caleb, probably just over six feet. The mop of dirty blond hair, the scruff of a beard, and those cold blue eyes were undeniable.

It didn’t hurt that below the tight T-shirt and worn jeans, his body was sculpted like some kind of God’s.

Alex turned quickly. His eyes caught hers, and his face went black. She felt redness creep across her face, the shame of getting caught. Without a word, he climbed into the plane, and the idling engine roared to life.

Faith’s heart pounded mercilessly against her chest. She felt like she was a kid who’d been caught passing notes in study hall.

Alex stared at her and lifted his hand in frustration. You coming or not? he seemed to ask.

Faith hustled toward the plane and climbed into the passenger side—thankful for the growl of the engine to drown out the sound of her heart.

He gestured roughly to the seatbelts, and before she’d even clipped them into place, they were taking off down the short runway. It was unlike anything she’d experienced before, worlds apart from the demanding commercial flights she was used to. Faith sucked in her breath as she felt the wheels lift off the pavement. In seconds, they were soaring above the greenery.

The massive estate looked like a miniature. The wilderness below, wild and thorny, was also beautiful. Like a rose, Faith thought. Just past the rising forest, the land sloped down toward white sandy beaches. Thick, tall trees framed the paradise below.

“That’s Smuggler’s Cove, there,” Alex said and pointed to a natural cul-de-sac.

His voice still carried that southern drawl, but it wasn’t nearly as thick as his mom’s, Caleb’s, or anyone else’s who lived at the inn. She was still trying to figure out exactly how they were all related. “Why’s that?” she asked, eager to keep the conversation afloat, especially if it had nothing to do with how she had crept up on him.

“Why do you think?” Alex asked pointedly. He sighed. “Pirates used to bring all kinds of goods ashore there. Over there,” he said, and pointed to another white plantation home, “that one’s yours.”

“Mine,” she repeated as she gazed down at the property. From above, it looked like all the others. “Can we go down?” she asked.

He nodded and started to angle the plane toward an open field.

As they descended, a strong memory from what must have been twenty years ago hit her hard. She remembered being in a similar plane, pressed against her father’s leg, and peering over him toward the islands below. They’d seemed a lot farther away then, she thought. And there was that little blonde girl again, her sticky fingers gripped between Faith’s. She shook her head to clear the memories.

As soon as they landed and Alex killed the engine, she knew this estate was nothing like Greystone. But maybe it can be, she told herself. The grass was overgrown and wild with clovers. It was just a short hike toward the house, but Alex kept a fast clip just ahead of her.

It was still early, but the heat had already started to get to her. “Hey!” she called to him. “Can you slow down?”

Alex turned briefly. “There’s only one house here,” he said. “You know where you’re going. ʼSides, I thought you’d been here before?”

“I . . . I don’t remember much,” she said. “Just glimpses, you know? I must have been five, six, or seven at the most the last time I was here. Mostly I just remember from a few old photos.”

He looked almost sorry for a second.

Think of the upside, she told herself. The property was relatively far inland, which was good news since she’d read that rising tides had washed away some small houses and shacks used for fishing.

As they approached the house, muscle memory took over. She somehow remembered where there was an old stump that was hidden in the tall grass. She remembered tea parties with imaginary china while her little cousin pretended the Mad Hatter was in attendance, the scratchy weeds that flicked at her legs, and how bizarrely enormous the spiders had seemed at the time.

Faith remembered the two of them as they raced toward the grand estate when the triangle dinner bell rang. The boom of her father’s voice in the kitchen.

As she approached the house now, it seemed like something out of a nightmare—and half the size of that she remembered. Of course, she’d forgotten the house entirely until she’d received the call from that estate agent. As soon as he mentioned Saint Rose and described the house and island, though, these nagging little memories started to pop up to surprise her.

Faith knew she shouldn’t feel emotional about a house she’d forgotten about for two decades, but she couldn’t help it. Now that it had returned to her, she realized it carried precious memories: her father, though he’d been so sad at that time, and the little blonde cousin whose name continued to evade her but even so seemed so much warmer than the cousins she’d grown up with in California.

It stung to see the house in such disrepair. Alex reached up to a nook on the porch and fished out a key. The wraparound was covered in dust and natural debris. “It could use some sprucing up,” she said as she looked around. One of the windows was boarded up, and the paint peeled away in numerous locations.

“It’s been sitting here unused for a lot of years,” he told her as he unlocked the front door. “Think you’d be in better shape? After you. Ma’am,” he said as he held the door open for her.

Faith wrinkled her nose as she stepped into what must have once been a fantastic foyer. In fact, she could somewhat remember the grandiosity. The Persian rugs and the twinkling chandelier. Now, it was covered in layers of dust that made the floors look dull. Overhead, there was exposed wiring, but the gorgeous chandelier she remembered was long gone. Faith coughed as she started to explore the first floor.

Room by room, she took the house in. It has “good bones,” a realtor or flipper would say. But that probably didn’t do her much good on an isolated island like this. What am I supposed to do with this? Fix it up and then . . . what? She’d only briefly looked at the price of real estate on the island because there was absolutely nothing for sale. When she’d emailed one realtor in Savannah, they’d told her, “People on the island tend to stay there. Properties are generally passed down generations.”

Faith traced her finger along the intricate molding pattern of the wainscoting. “I have no idea what to do with it,” she told Alex. “This is weird, but it’s like a bad print of what I remember. You know? Like I feel protective of it, though I barely remember it.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it should be a wilderness refuge. There are a lot of small land and sea animals that are only found on the Georgia coast.”

She looked up, surprised, but Alex gazed fixedly out one of the windows. Or attempted to, anyway. The glass was so old it had turned cloudy. “Really? I didn’t know that,” she said.

“I’m not surprised. Look, it’s up to you. I was just giving my opinion.” He turned and walked out of the room. Judging by the built-ins, it used to be a library. Why is he so touchy about everything? Apparently even Georgia wildlife.

Faith found him in the kitchen, where he examined the carpentry. “Can we go back now?” she asked. Being in the house, on that island, had started to flood her mind with scattered memories. She had flashes and glimpses of the past but without enough glue to piece it all together.

He looked at her, wordless, and started heading back to the front door.

“I guess that’s a yes,” she muttered under her breath.

Alex locked up and started to walk back to the plane. Did I say something wrong? Maybe he has some kind of connection to this place. “Thank you for taking me,” she said. Faith had to half jog, half walk to keep pace with him. “I . . . I have a lot to think about.”

Alex didn’t say anything. She could swear he somehow walked even faster.

Faith looked around the property. It would be nice to restore the house. Fix it up. After all, she had the money now . . .

Halfway to the plane, she gave up on keeping up with him. Instead, she let him barrel on ahead. He was brusque and harsh, but she knew he wouldn’t just leave her there. Well, maybe he would, but his mom certainly wouldn’t allow it.

She fell back and watched his ass all the way back to the plane. What a waste, she thought. With that attitude, there’s no way he’s getting laid. Why in the world does he clearly spend all that time honing his body?

Faith felt herself flush again. I’m the one who needs to get laid, she thought. Running around this island, checking out the rear end of a total asshole who couldn’t even drum up a little common decency.

“Y’all coming?” Alex called to her.

I wish, she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. “Yeah, yeah,” she said.

It really was too bad he was such a stick-in-the-mud. If he weren’t, he’d be just her type.