Angels in Seashore Cove (Love and Laugh in Seashore Cove Book 2) Read online

  Angels in Seashore Cove

  Love and Laugh in Seashore Cove

  Book Two

  Maggie Van Well

  Booktrope Editions

  Seattle, WA 2016

  COPYRIGHT 2016 MAGGIE VAN WELL

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

  Inquiries about additional permissions

  should be directed to: [email protected]

  Cover Design by Greg Simanson

  Edited by Samantha Ettinger

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  PRINT ISBN: 978-1-5137-0847-8

  EPUB ISBN: 978-1-5137-0948-2

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016901293

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Epigraph

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty- Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dear Reader,

  Other Books by Maggie Van Well

  More Great Reads from Booktrope

  “Angels in Seashore Cove is an unexpected emotional trip! Sweet, funny, and deeply moving, this story follows two couples whose fates intertwine, but need a divine push – hell, a divine kick to find true happiness.”

  - Patty Blount, author of the 2015 Firecracker award winner and Rita finalist Some Boys.

  Acknowledgments

  As always, thank you to my beta readers: Trisha, Tracey, and Johanna. Your thoughts are so precious to me.

  To Melissa Felice and Theresa Sweezey from the Little Miss Cake Company & Desserts, thank you ladies for putting up with my endless texts, visits and phone calls. Your thoughts and knowledge on everything yummy was priceless.

  Thank you to my awesome team at Booktrope Publishing: Katherine Sears and Ken Shear, Greg Simanson, Jesse James Freeman, Voule Walker, and special thanks to Samantha Ettinger.

  Tina, Abby, Christyne, and Pamela, I would be lost without you.

  My deepest thanks to the dynamic Cherry Adair. Your wisdom and generosity was priceless in finishing this story. Thank you for insisting I show you my storyboard.

  I could not have written Angels in Seashore Cove without the help of one special person, who gave me the idea for Jack and Angie’s story and let me run with it. Thank you, Paul, for your inspiration.

  For Diane Lillian, thank you for teaching me that a mother-in-law can also be a best friend.

  For Brandon Nicholas, my very own angel.

  For Bertrice Small, whose insight was endless.

  Johanna M. Kunkel, always in my heart.

  Prologue

  Bangor, Maine-1999

  “JACK, PLEASE, OPEN your eyes!”

  Angie Hanson gripped the hand of her lifelong friend, fearing if she let go, he’d slip away and she’d lose him forever.

  She had no clue how long they’d been here or what their injuries were. When she woke in a hospital room, her first thought was, to find Jack.

  After a few crafty phone calls ignoring the intense pain in her head and chest, she sneaked into his room, knowing she didn’t have much time before the nurses discovered she’d unhooked her IV and left her bed to be with him.

  His ICU room was quiet, save for the constant beeping of the heart monitor. She didn’t know what was wrong with him, although, being a psychiatrist she could at least tell his vitals were steady.

  “I’m so sorry.” She rested her forehead on his hand as pain, both mental and physical, nearly crippled her body. “Please don’t go.”

  The searing agony in her head begged her to lie down. She felt nauseated and sore all over, but there was no way she’d leave Jack Wheeler’s bedside. Especially since she’d been the person who’d put him there.

  A whole new wave of anguish engulfed her as the moments right before impact fused in her mind. Jack had wanted to drive them to her nephew’s wedding, but she’d refused to let him. He’d always insisted upon driving, saying women just weren’t good at it. But for once she ignored his teasing and took the wheel.

  And now he might die.

  She let out an angry laugh. “You just had to ruin this, didn’t you?” She raised her head and swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I had it all planned, you know. After the bride and groom shared their first dance, I was going to take you by the hand and lead you—no, drag you to the dance floor. You’d begrudgingly take me in your arms and make some snide remark about all the things I make you suffer through.”

  Glancing toward Heaven, her eyes continued to overflow. “And then I’d tell you to shut up. You’d say make me and I would…”

  She then focused on Jack’s expressionless face. “By telling you, in all my fifty-one years, you’re the only man I’ve ever truly been in love with.”

  She listened to the rhythmic beat of the heart monitor. A part of her hoping her confession would be enough to coax him back.

  But he remained still. The beat -- steady.

  It was hard to comprehend how such a tall, strong man could be struck down like this. At fifty-one, Jack was still so virile, causing women of all ages to turn their heads and bat their eyes. She’d give anything to see the unusual periwinkle shade of blue that colored his eyes just one more time. Or that delightfully mischievous half-smile he plastered on his face whenever he teased her.

  Grief strangled her in a fierce grip when she thought about all the time she’d wasted because of fear. Friends, acquaintances, and two husbands had come and gone, but Jack had remained by her side.

  He was there when she learned she couldn’t have children. Her rock when her mother passed and her sister, Jan, was overseas, unable to get home in time for the funeral. Jack had helped her through it all.

  And in all that time, she’d never told him how much he meant to her.

  If only she could turn back time.

  Sudden warmth wrapped itself around her. The air in the room grew heavy, not unpleasantly, but it made her feel like they weren’t alone.

  She peered over her shoulder, expecting to find a nurse glaring at her from the doorway. But it was empty.

  “Be not afraid. I am here with you.”

  Angie jerked back around at the unexpected voice. “Jack?”
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  The rhythmic beating turned into a frightening steady whine.

  “No.” She jumped to her feet, shaking off the wave of dizziness. “No!”

  Hospital personnel invaded the room, pushing her aside. Shock took over as a nurse wheeled in the defibrillator cart.

  The machine charged. The doctor applied gel then rubbed the paddles together before placing them on Jack’s chest.

  “Clear.”

  Zap!

  The whining continued.

  “Please, God,” Angie prayed. “Don’t take him.”

  One of the nurses turned to her. “Dr. Hanson, what on earth are you doing here?” Placing her hands on Angie’s shoulders, the elderly woman tried to move her toward the door.

  Angie pulled away and the pain in her head turned her vision white. She didn’t care. Jack was all that mattered. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Come now.” The nurse led her out the door.

  Her body grew weaker, no longer able to fight. “Please, no.”

  “Dr. Hanson, we must get you back to your room.”

  Angie ignored the nurse, looking through the glass window as the staff fought to get Jack’s heart beating again.

  Then the doctor pushed the cart away from the bed.

  A chill ran through her body. “Why are they stopping?”

  The nurse beside her placed a hand on her arm, but Angie shrugged her off.

  Rushing over to the window, she slapped her palms against the glass. “Why are you stopping? Why are you stopping!”

  The nurses and doctor left the room one by one, leaving Jack lying alone. There were no more monitors, no more sounds, no more IV hook-ups.

  He looked so peaceful.

  “Dr. Hanson, I’m sorry—”

  Angie blocked out the doctor’s words as her knees buckled. A younger nurse rushed forward and grabbed her, sinking with her to the floor.

  This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

  The doctor squatted down and rubbed Angie’s shoulder. “We need to get you to your room.”

  “I want to see him.” She turned to the doctor. “Please, just for a few minutes, and then I’ll do whatever you want.”

  He glanced at the nurse with a look of uncertainty before he nodded. “Five minutes. I’ll be timing you.”

  With their help, Angie struggled to her feet. The nurse ushered her into the room. “I’ll be right outside.”

  With her eyes on Jack, Angie stumbled to the bed, again taking his hand in hers.

  Tears fell onto his stark white hospital gown as she leaned over him, and for the first time ever, touched her lips to his.

  How would he have reacted when she told him how she felt? Would he be elated, or turn from her with embarrassment, ruining their lifelong friendship? Now, she’ll never know.

  Angie laid her head on his shoulder. Oh God, what if he had loved her, too? And like her, had been afraid to say the words?

  “I’m so sorry, Jack.”

  Angie closed her eyes, suddenly very tired.

  Maybe if I go to sleep I will wake up and he’ll be alive again. Maybe this is all a terrible nightmare.

  But this wasn’t a dream.

  As sorrow filled her, the warmth from before embraced her again. The pain in her body ebbed away. “If only I had another chance to tell you how I feel.”

  The warmth grew stronger, as if hugging her close.

  “Do not worry, my child. Someday you will have that chance.”

  Angie nodded at the disembodied voice, no longer wondering where it came from, and, as the life force left her, collapsed to the floor.

  Chapter One

  Sixteen years later

  “OH. MY. GOSH. Did you see that?” Dianna Sheldon turned to Sean Donovan and slapped his palm.

  “Ow!” Sean jerked away and paced his living room, cradling his hand, face scrunched in pain. “I think I heard bones crack.”

  Dianna rolled her eyes. Six foot two, fit, and as the owner of a pub, Sean had his fair share of fistfights with drunken customers and jealous ex-boyfriends.

  Mr. Macho held his hand like a five-year-old who’d just received punishment for trying to sneak a cookie from the cookie jar.

  Dianna fisted her hands at her hips and shook her head in disgust. “You cannot be serious.”

  “You hit really hard!”

  “I couldn’t help it. I’m excited! I’ve never seen an in-the-park homerun before.”

  “Well if you’re that excited…” Sean swaggered closer to her, his lips exaggeratingly puckered.

  When he was within kissing distance, Dianna placed her hand over his face before he could reach his target. She had no idea when this little game of theirs had started, but at this point, she was so used to the gentle teasing, she’d miss it if he ever stopped. “Dream on.”

  He chuckled and pulled away, his striking ice blue eyes holding an impish glint. “Stop denying this, Princess. You know you have the hots for me.”

  “Not since we were thirteen and you were more interested in Jocelyn ‘I-developed-early’ Parks.”

  Staring into space, a grin lit his face. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about her. Man, she was cute. We went out for about six months, which I think is a record for me.”

  Focusing on the ballgame, Dianna shook her head. “You and your brother are so alike.”

  “Hey, I am not as bad as Tucker.”

  She contemplated that for a moment. “True. You at least stay in a relationship with a woman long enough to learn her name.”

  Sean threw his large frame onto his comfortable couch, still cradling his hand.

  “Oh! The Mets have two men on already.” She hurried to sit on the arm of the sofa and ran her hand over Sean’s short blond hair. “I need to rub your head for luck again.”

  He swatted her away with a chuckle. “It was a fluke.”

  “Shh, you’ll jinx it. They’re going all the way this year, you watch. And to think I almost missed it because…” Diana glanced at the cable box. “Oh shit, is that the right time?” She jumped up and gathered her purse and keys. “I have a date in an hour.”

  Sean snorted. “Are you still seeing Kirk-the-Jerk?”

  “Sean David Donovan, stop dissecting my choices in men. For the life of me I can’t understand why you don’t like him.”

  “Any guy who refuses to own a cell phone is either weird or has something to hide.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So you keep saying. What are your plans, anyway?”

  “Sonia and I are going to dinner.”

  “Oh? So I guess you two made up?” There it was again. That feeling of utter dread that crept into her heart whenever he mentioned his new girlfriend.

  “We sure did.” He offered her a knowing grin.

  Dianna forced a smile in return. “I’m glad.”

  “Me too, because I really, really like her.” He peered up at her. “You like her too, don’t you?”

  The words, ‘hell no’ were right on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. Although she longed to tell him the truth, why bother? As the owner of a successful pub, Sean met tons of beautiful, willing women, especially in the summer months when their small Long Island hamlet overflowed with Hamptons’ traffic. Sonia was just the next in line of women he really, really liked who would be gone in a few weeks.

  “Well, she’s better than that stuck-up actress you were seeing at the beginning of the summer.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie, even if she didn’t exactly answer his question.

  “Great.” He hopped up from the couch and walked her to the door. “Talk to you tomorrow and be careful, Princess.”

  That familiar flutter filled her from within every time he called her that. “I promise.”

  With a quick kiss to his cheek, Dianna headed down the flower-lined walkway.

  The early September evening was slightly cooler than usual for this time of year on Long Island. The sweet fragrance of Sean’s prize roses lightened her step as she walked to her car.

  She wish
ed she could grow plants and flowers the way he did, but any time she tried, the doomed vegetation would soon meet its maker. Her vege-cide was a frequent subject in her comic strip. She’d made a name for herself online, with over a million followers on YouTube. The crude animations of her characters, Sandy and Chip, a twenty-something couple with zany adventures had gone viral a few years ago. Between that and a blooming designer cake business, she never had a dull moment.

  One day, though, she was going to take her art beyond drawing comics and sculpting fondant flower petals. Paris called, but she had yet to answer.

  And she had no idea why.

  Dianna waved to Sean then pulled away from the curb. As soon as his house was out of sight, she slapped her forehead with the heel of her hand. God, she hated herself right now. Why couldn’t she just be honest with Sean and tell him she didn’t like Sonia? That she didn’t trust her? Sure, he might get upset, even angry, but would he really end their friendship over it?

  God knows Sean never had a problem voicing his opinion over her dates and never once seemed to worry about how she’d react to it.

  Sometimes she wondered if their life-long friendship meant more to her than it did to him.

  Dianna sighed. She was being silly. She was close to a lot of people in her small town. Some she’d share her darkest secrets with, some just acquaintances, but Sean was different. They’d been BFF’s since the cradle—nearly thirty years of being each other’s shadow. She simply could not imagine a life without him, so she did everything she could to protect their relationship.

  And that included lying about his girlfriends.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, she pulled into her driveway. No time to stress over Sean, she had a date. One she very much looked forward to.

  ***

  “That’s it, I’m done!”

  Two and a half hours later, Dianna stormed past her cousin’s wife and into the marble foyer of their oceanfront mansion—one of the few homes that touched the Atlantic in the small Long Island town of Seashore Cove.