More thunder and howling wind.
“The storm raged on. She was kind enough to find me a place to stay, and in the darkness, she brought me light.” From behind his back, Ash pulled out a little electric candle. He grinned at her, and Rowan couldn’t hold it in anymore—tears dripped down her cheeks. She could taste them.
“Oh, sweetie.” Annie’s arm went around her. “This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
“But she did not trust me. She had been badly hurt before. And she did not believe in the mermaid’s magic.”
Rowan let herself cry. Ash saw her, and he paused for a moment to collect himself. A woman standing behind Rowan sniffed and sighed. Ash continued on.
“I learned she had a thing for butter pecan ice cream.” One of the town fairies tiptoed across the dock holding the large ice-cream cone sign from Island Day, while everyone laughed. “I learned she loved to dance on the beach under the moon.” Two fairies, one holding a moon and the other a star, performed a little dance in front of Ash, then flitted away. “I began to fall in love with this beautiful innkeeper’s daughter and knew my pirate days were behind me forever.”
Ash disappeared again, and Rowan’s dad took up the microphone. “The days passed. The reformed corporate pirate spent more and more time with the lovely innkeeper’s daughter. She fell in love with him, too—everyone could see it. But one day, an evil witch came to town and whispered to the innkeeper’s daughter, ‘Your lover is a scalawag.’ It broke her heart, and she hid herself in the tower, where she wished to remain, wrapped in her sorrow, forever.” Her father pointed to the cardboard cupola on the Safe Haven’s roof, and Rowan had to laugh.
“But the town knew the witch could not be trusted, and the handsome pirate, who by this time . . .” Her father looked behind him to make sure Ash was ready, then nodded. “By this time, he wanted nothing more than to save his love, her island, and preserve its history!”
Ash reappeared dressed as a sea captain, his cap tilted jauntily on his head. Behind him, a bevy of mermaids pushed the architect’s model of the marine institute, then made overly dramatic Vanna White motions with their arms, to the crowd’s delight. The women scurried off.
“I love you, Rowan Flynn.” Ash smiled directly at her. “I don’t know what happened to me here on Bayberry Island, whether it was the mermaid, or fate, or just blind luck, but I do know this—it’s magic. It’s a magic powerful enough to rescue my heart and bring me back to life.”
He held out his hand to her. “Forgive me. Give me another chance. Let me show you how it feels when a man adores you and wants nothing but your happiness. Help me make the institute a reality. Stand by me as I try to do the right thing for Bayberry Island—and for you.”
Rowan found herself moving toward him, her head buzzing, whistling and applause exploding all around her. She went to him, and the instant her hand slipped inside his, she knew it was the right choice. At that moment, it became clear to her the difference between Frederick and Ash: Frederick was a taker. Ash was a giver.
I belong with him.
Her handsome sea captain took her into his arms, dipped her gallantly, and kissed her hard. Rowan heard the rest of the troupe gather around them to take their bows. Ash lifted his lips from hers and smiled softly.
“Thank you for saving me,” he whispered.
Rowan nodded, cupping his face in her hands. “I think we saved each other, Captain.”
He kissed her again, just as confetti rained down over the crowd.
Epilogue
Honey-sweet harmonies of flute and harp drifted across the Safe Haven lawn as Annie took measured steps on her way to the altar. The September sunset added glimmer to her golden hair and kissed the sheer skirt of her wedding dress. She held a bouquet of late-season wildflowers in her hands—daylilies, roses, daisies, seaside geraniums, and milkweed—all tied with a pale blue ribbon.
Annie smiled. Oh, how that woman smiled! Her face was alive with joy and happiness, and Rowan knew she was witnessing one of those rare, perfect moments in life. She would remember it forever, the hum of the ocean, the scent of waning summer, the beauty of her best friend, and the delight she held in her own heart.
From her vantage point as maid of honor, Rowan let her gaze drift away from the lovely bride to settle on the face of her impatient groom. Nat looked overwhelmed. He fidgeted, moving his hands to his back and to his front again, never once taking his eyes off Annie. It looked as if he wanted her to speed up the wedding march and get her ass to his side before she had a chance to change her mind. Seeing how much he adored Annie made Rowan’s chest fill with emotion.
She looked past Nat to the best man who stood at his side, the strikingly handsome Ashton Louis Wallace III. Ash wore one of his custom-tailored dress shirts, this one a blue and white pinstripe, with a paisley tie and navy blue, pleated linen trousers. He looked every bit the wealthy, uptight Boston blue blood who’d decided to summer on a quaint New England island.
But Rowan knew better.
The man in those preppy clothes was her playful and passionate pirate, her lusty sea captain, a man who possessed a heart tough enough to rebound from loss and open to love. With his vision, Ash had made a commitment to make life better for the people of this island and the sea that sustained it.
He locked his eyes on hers, and Rowan felt the heat of his longing and the happiness that he carried in his own spirit. It was so simple—she loved him with everything in her, and she would do anything for him. Ash winked at her, then mouthed the words I love you, and Rowan was reminded that this wasn’t a dream. This was her real life.
Annie reached the altar, and Nat gently took her hand in his. The music stopped. Deacon Sully welcomed the guests while struggling to keep his eyes to the front and not focused on his shoes. Rowan had to admit that the boat mechanic cleaned up well when duty called.
“We are gathered here today to witness the joining of Nathaniel Ravelle and Annabeth Parker, two young people who have pledged their devotion and faithfulness to each other and have expressed their wish to live in the partnership of marriage.”
The ceremony unfolded seamlessly. Rowan glanced out at those gathered on the lawn. There was Mellie, looking proud of her dressmaking skills while dabbing her eyes with a hankie. Rowan saw Nat’s family—his parents and his sister, her husband and their kids. Annie’s parents had come up from their Tallahassee retirement condo to celebrate with their daughter. And Rowan’s parents were there too, but they sat on opposite sides of the aisle, pleased for Annie but holding on tight to their bitterness. Now that the reason for their rift was over, Rowan wished they could find a way to forgive each other, but many hurtful things had been said over the last year. It would take a while to heal the wounds, if healing took place at all.
Clancy sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his long legs stretched out under the chair in front of him, a wistful expression on his face. Rowan knew that weddings weren’t his favorite kind of party and that his own failed marriage had to be on his mind. Hubie Krank sat to the right of Clancy, a huge smile on his face as he fiddled with his new hearing aid.
The balance of the crowd was made up of Mermaid Society members, Nat’s film school friends, and Annie’s college friends—along with their spouses and kids—and many Bayberry neighbors.
“Annabeth, I take you to be my wife.” Nat slipped the pretty white-gold band along the slim length of her ring finger. “I feel like the luckiest man on the earth to have fallen at your doorstep on that cold, icy December night of last year. You lit a fire in me, body and soul.”
More than one sniffle emanated from the guests.
Nat continued. “I promise to honor you, respect you, and love you to the limits of my heart and beyond, in sickness and in health, in the off-season and the tourist season. Also, I promise to help you with any and all research for your books, baked goods, and chocolates.”
Everyone laughed. Then it was Annie’s turn.
“N
athaniel, I take you to be my husband.” She slipped a matching band on his finger. “When you dropped into my life, my whole world changed. You are the first man I have ever loved, and you will be the only, the last, my beloved forever.”
More sniffles.
“I promise to be yours without qualification. I promise to trust you, honor you, and love you every day I live. And I pledge to always give you the best of myself, in the off-season and in tourist season, in sickness and health, and even while I’m trying to finish writing a book.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the guests.
Annie and Nat were pronounced husband and wife, and Nat placed his hand at the small of Annie’s back, drew her to him, and kissed her. The kiss was so uninhibited that Nat’s sister covered the eyes of her six-year-old. Most everyone else erupted in clapping and whistling. The newlyweds then linked arms and walked across the lawn. Rowan and Ash came together so they could fall into place behind the married couple.
“May I, Miss Flynn?” Ash offered his arm to Rowan, giving her that dimpled smile she’d come to treasure.
“Of course, Mr. Wallace.”
They continued their promenade toward the side yard, where the large white reception tent had been set up for dining and dancing. But instead of steering Rowan under the tent, Ash tugged her away, ran toward the side porch and pulled her down with him on the love magnet. He arranged her on his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist.
Ash moved his hands over the fabric of her bridesmaid dress and traveled up her bare thigh. “I want you so bad, Rowan,” he mumbled, kissing her. “I could barely keep my cool looking at you—so soft, so beautiful.”
She snagged his wrist, glancing over her shoulder at the reception crowd milling around the lawn. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Wait for me in the carriage house after the reception. Stand naked in the hallway and remember to cut all the lights. Act surprised when I get there. Can you hold on until then?”
Ash groaned in mock disappointment, cupping her face in his hands. “Yes, but on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I get to ravish you.” His smile spread to his deep blue eyes. “I get to see you naked and spread out on your bed, trembling because I’m about to bury myself deep inside you.”
Rowan took a sharp breath.
“And, as much as I hate to tax the resources of your fine establishment, I believe I will need fresh bed linens in the morning.”
She placed a demure kiss on his lips and smiled. “Whatever I can do to make your stay a pleasant one.”
Dear Reader,
I hope you’ve enjoyed Ash and Rowan’s story and your visit to Bayberry Island.
I came up with the idea for the Bayberry Island novels while on a writing retreat on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. While I took long solo walks on the beach, day after day, a kernel of a story began to form in my mind. I thought about how magical the ocean was, and how it was one of the few things in this overanalyzed world that could still elicit a sense of awe. I thought about how love had much in common with the sea—both were beautiful, deep, and life-giving, but sometimes dangerous and unpredictable. I saw a dolphin dance in the waves and smiled to myself, thinking that it was no wonder there have been folktales about mermaids for as long as humans have sailed the oceans.
Love, magic, and mermaids . . .
I hurried back to the beach house and got out my laptop, and for the next several days, I had the pleasure of letting a place, a family, and a story begin to reveal itself to me.
The Bayberry Island novels focus on the members of the Flynn family, descendants of the island’s founder and benefactor, and ask a fundamental question: Can the bronze mermaid statue in town square really grant true love to those who kiss her hand and ask with an open heart? Come on, now. I don’t write those kinds of books. My novels are based in the here-and-now, with characters who could be your neighbors or friends, people who face familiar challenges and long for real-life happiness and joy. I don’t write supernatural stuff.
Still, even I have to shake my head at what happens to the Flynns in the course of these three novels. Mona and Frasier Flynn, the parents, have let their thirty-five-year marriage crumble. And their grown children—Duncan, Clancy, and Rowan—haven’t exactly been lucky in love. Yet by the time their stories are told, some pretty incredible events have unfolded.
Some say you don’t need magic to find love, that love is the magic. I’ll let the reader decide. All I ask is that you keep an open mind, and come back to visit again soon.
Next up: Clancy and Evelyn’s story. I hope to see you there.
Love,
Susan Donovan
Susan Donovan, Sea of Love: A Bayberry Island Novel
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