Page 119 of In the Pursuit of Haven
He threw his shoulder into the door again. The heavy wood shook, but it didn’t give under the pressure.
Noticing a pot on the ground next to the front steps, I pressed my numb fingers against the heavy ceramic and pushed it over. A key rested beneath it. “It ne—never ceases to a—ama—maze me that pe—people still leave their keys… under the—these things.”
Yeah, that didn’t come out as cool as I’d imagined.
Jessie snatched the key from me. “Let’s hope this place belongs to Ruth,” he said. His worried gaze found me the same time his hands did. “That girl loves warm blankets.”
I think that’s what he said—even though thatbetternot be what he said—but then again, I could be stuck in some strange dream.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jessie shoved into the cabin, where he rushed me past boating supplies next to a cramped kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. Past that, miraculously, was a tiny nook with a fold-up bed and blankets. The storm beat against the windows, but it was blessedly dry in here! This shelter had withstood the elements before this; it would last another night.
Shaking uncontrollably, I huddled against my husband while he dragged up the blanket and tucked it around us both.
I glanced over at a painting of the rough waves of the ocean claiming sinking ships. Jaunty anchors and golden cods were set against wood paneled walls next to pictures of a happy family vacationing at the seaside. I recognized a redhead with a bitter expression.
That was before she’d turned all those luscious locks pink!
“Ru—Ru—” I took a despairing breath and tried again, “Ru—Ruth!”She lives here. Warm blankets! Can’t get warm…
Running a hand through my hair, Jessie turned and studied the photograph while he pressed against me. “You’re right,” he said.
Her family was part of the Shepherds of the Relics—they had to be, but my tongue wasn’t about to form a coherent word. Poor Jessie spent the night putting his inner blaze to use while he heated me back up. I shivered against his chest, feeling my eyes grow heavier until I allowed sleep to drag me into its comforting oblivion.
When I woke up early that morning, I was actually happy and cozy, clinging to my husband exactly how any bride on Reverend Small’s honeymoon island should.
“Hey!” Jessie’s eyes snapped open. They locked on mine. “You okay, babe?”
“Um… yeah…” I tried to wriggle my toes. They wouldn’t move. It took me a second to realize that was because they were under his legs.
Letting out a laugh, Jessie pushed his elbow against the mattress and woke me up the rest of the way with a kiss so deep and gentle that it was like he’d only discovered me lying next to him. He nudged my nose with his. “You remember anything about last night?” he asked me.
My forehead wrinkled. “Besides finding a lead about a church?”
He nodded.
Now I was confused. “What did I miss?”
He chuckled low and pressed me to him, this time with a kiss that turned my insides into a gooey marshmallow. The passionate desire I felt behind his mouth lingered long after his lips left mine. I gasped for breath, my curiosity eating me up almost as much as my newfound hope that Reverend Smalls had saved our marriage. “What happened?”
“You didn’t hear me tell you about this photograph?” He pointed to another one on the wall. This time it was of Ruth in front of the famous St. Peter’s cathedral brought to us by no other than Philip English. “There’s no question in my mind they’re Shepherds,” Jessie said. “If we can get them to work with us, we can find all the Relics. No more of this stumbling around blindly. You in?”
“Uh… yeah.” And yet, I still didn’t get how he’d get Jude to participate.
The complication of getting that cantankerous family to cooperate with us consumed me on the entire trip back to the mainland that morning. We only had about an hour before the first meeting started at the church, and all we had was a time stamp as our clue. I prayed that whatever we were asked to do wouldn’t cause a ruckus with the other churchgoers.
I dug around the ice chest for leftovers. I was glad for Jessie’s foresight in bringing all this food.
He glanced over at me. “Can you hand me a juice box and some crackers?”
I pushed them into his hands. “What’s your plan for getting Ruth and her father to work with us?” I asked. He smiled enigmatically and I groaned. “What? You think you have time in all this to take her grumpy dad fishing?”
“I have my ways,” Jessie said.
Right… the magic. I told him what I thought about him using it on anyone but me.
The boat slowed under his expert hands as he moved us down the waterway to dock on Salem Wharf. From there, we rushed for the cathedral on foot.
