As Timeless as the Sea Read online

  As Timeless as the Sea

  Blue Penguin Bay Book Three

  by Serenity Woods

  Copyright 2017 Serenity Woods

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  BLUE PENGUIN BAY’S vineyard was alive with a riot of color.

  On the vines, small flower clusters on the tips of the young green shoots were transforming into tiny grape berries, which would eventually ripen into fat, luscious grapes. Beyond the fields of vines, the Pacific Ocean sparkled a brilliant blue in the warm afternoon sun. And all around, ribbons flapped in the summer breeze. They were tied to ropes which had been strung from the roof of the restaurant to the beautiful wooden archway on the adjacent lawn, making Sandi feel as if she were on board a ship, its sails snapping in the wind.

  “The thought of Christmas being in summer makes my head spin.” Her sister, Winifred, had come to stand next to where Sandi stood in the shade of the canopy over the restaurant’s outdoor seating. “And I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to December being hot.”

  They and their other sister, Ginger, had moved to New Zealand from England ten months ago. The girls had read that New Zealand was like England in the southern hemisphere, and in many ways, it was true—they drove on the left, spoke English, ate baked beans and meat pies and fish and chips, and shared a common history, with most of the early European settlers being from England.

  But what the websites and guide books had failed to mention was the strangeness of being the polar opposite of England. Christmas was in summer. Halloween remained in October, but that was spring here. And Easter was still in March or April, but that was the middle of autumn, which was weird when Easter was supposed to be about rebirth, new shoots, lambs, and chicks.

  The only way Sandi had been able to make sense of it was to forget about the Christian holidays and focus instead on the old pagan festivals. She didn’t talk much about it to her sisters, but her religious beliefs, such as they were, had always leaned toward earth religions, and they definitely made more sense Down Under, like next week, December twenty-first, being a celebration of the summer solstice.

  Sandi smiled at Fred. “I think we’re just going to have to forget about any association we have with Christmas and wintry weather.”

  “Fair enough, but why do most New Zealand Christmas cards have snowmen and reindeer? And the shops in town have spray snow around the windows. It’s bizarre.” Fred looked baffled.

  “It is,” Sandi agreed. “That’s why I’m trying to think of it as a summer festival.”

  “That does make sense.” Fred smiled as three men exited the building and slowly walked across the lawn toward the wooden archway. “Wow, would you look at those dudes. Couldn’t you eat them all on toast?”

  Sandi had to agree, they looked gorgeous in their gray morning suits, white shirts, and silver-and-lavender ties. “Your husband brushes up well,” she teased. Eamon MacDonald, commonly known as Mac, lived and died in the T-shirts and jeans he wore working in the vineyard. He would be giving the bride away today.

  “So does the groom,” Fred said. “I didn’t think he owned a shirt.”

  Just like Mac, Sam Pankhurst rarely wore anything except jeans and tees, unless he was working in the patisserie, when he wore a white apron over his clothes and a white hat on his dark brown hair. Today, he looked positively scrumptious. He’d even brushed his hair.

  “Ginger is going to cry when she sees him,” Sandi predicted.

  “Almost certainly.” Fred gave her a mischievous glance. “Jace looks good too, don’t you think?”

  Sandi threw her sister a wry look. But she was unable to deny Fred’s words.

  Jace Hart was, she thought, possibly the most gorgeous man on the entire planet. He was huge—at least six-four, and it hadn’t surprised her when she’d discovered he played lock for the local rugby team, because he had an athletic build and looked as if only a forklift truck would be able to move him. He was handsome, in a rugged, weathered way that made her heart beat faster. He was also a lawyer, so the man had a brain between his ears. Obviously, he must be arrogant or moody or spiteful or something, because nobody was that perfect.

  “He does look good,” she said. “He’s prime crumpet.”

  Fred chuckled at the English-ism. “Do you think he’ll ask you out again today?”

  “I doubt it,” Sandi replied. “I would imagine he’s got the message by now.”

  Jace had asked her out twice—once soon after they met, back in June, and again in September, when they’d bumped into each other in a bar in the nearby town of Kerikeri. Both times, she’d turned him down.

  “You should say yes if he does,” Fred advised.

  “Not going to happen.” Sandi looked around for Ginger. It was nearly two o’clock—nearly time for the wedding.

  Fred put a hand on her sister’s arm. “Aw, come on. He’d be perfect for you. I still don’t understand why you said no.”

  Sandi hesitated. “I find him a bit... intimidating.”

  Fred’s eyebrows rose. “In what way?”

  “He’s very... larger than life. In all ways. He’s like the sun—so bright I can hardly bear to look at him. If I went out with him, I feel as if I’d be... I don’t know, consumed, maybe.”

  “Only if you’re very lucky.”

  “Fred!”

  “Well.” Fred glanced over at him. “I know what you mean—he has a big personality, but I don’t see that as a negative thing. He’s interesting. He’s warm and funny. What’s not to like?”

  “I’m not ready,” Sandi said.

  Fred’s gaze came back to her, and her expression softened. “Aw. Sweetie, it’s been so long. I know it was terrible, but you have to move on sometime.”

  “I have moved on, and I’ve made a life for myself here, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to give myself to a man yet. I don’t know if I ever will be. I like being single. I like not having to answer to anyone.”

  Fred’s steely gaze held her captive. “Is that it? Or are you just scared? Because, despite everything you’ve been through, I would never have called you a coward.”

  Sandi stared at her sister. Fred had never spoken to her that way before, and she was so shocked she found it difficult to catch her breath. “I’m not a coward.”

  “Do you remember that evening we walked through Regent’s Park, after Mum died?” Fred asked. “You, me, and Ginger? We were talking about everything, about Mum taking her own life, and what Jack had done to Ginger, and what Brodie had done to you. I felt so low, and I said I just wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there, and Ginger agreed. And you were furious with us. You were like an avenging angel.
You said that nobody was going to keep the Cartwright girls down.”

  Sandi studied her pretty summer sandals. “I remember.”

  “You said we were never to think of ourselves as victims, and it was time we stopped being the ones who had things done to us. We were going to take charge of our own lives and do what we wanted, especially once we came to New Zealand.”

  Sandi lifted her gaze to watch Mac walking back to where he’d be collecting Ginger. She wished Fred would stop talking—she didn’t want to be reminded of the things she’d said in the past, of how she’d been determined to be brave.

  “You were the one who kept us going,” Fred said. “I was so low at that point, I don’t know that I could have picked myself up after Mum died. But you dragged me up by my bootstraps, dusted me down, and put a sword in my hand. I couldn’t have done it without you—I wouldn’t be here, in New Zealand, married to Mac and having the time of my life, if it wasn’t for you.”

  Sandi’s eyes filled with tears. “Fred...”

  “So now I’m doing the same to you. What Brodie did was incredibly cruel, and I know he broke your heart into a million pieces. But guess what—I’ve got some pretty strong Super Glue, and I’m going to stick it all back together if it kills me.”

  Sandi gave a short laugh. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, really.” Fred’s face was uncharacteristically fierce, her voice firm. “I will not let that man—that sorry excuse for a human being—have a hold on you for the rest of your life. I haven’t pushed you, because I know it takes time to get over a betrayal. But I’m done waiting.”

  “Don’t I have a say in this?”

  “No. Because you’re done waiting, too. I know you, Sandi, and I know you’re strong enough to take the next step. But I think you need a little help. So you’d better get ready, because when you’re not looking, I’m going to push you out of the nest. Or off the gangplank. Pick your own analogy.”

  Fred met Sandi’s gaze and held it. Sandi could see she meant every word she said.

  She owed so much to her sister. Fred had looked after their bipolar mother for years, allowing Sandi and Ginger to go out into the world and live normal lives. At the time, Sandi had been young and selfish and hadn’t given much thought to Fred’s sacrifice. She’d disliked her mother’s self-indulgent nature, all the overly dramatic scenes, the weeping and wailing, and she’d been glad to escape and leave her in Fred’s capable hands, thinking that her sister liked looking after her, and had no ambition to do anything else. It was only later she’d discovered that Fred had wanted to be a nurse, and understood how much Fred had given up for them. Sandi felt a lot of guilt about that, and since then she’d done her best to try to make it up to Fred, knowing she never could.

  “All right,” she said softly. Leaning forward, she placed a kiss on her sister’s cheek.

  Fred nodded, lifting her chin in a way that told Sandi she was fighting back tears. She looked so lovely today, Sandi thought. Ginger hadn’t wanted a big wedding, and she and Sam were just going to have a quiet exchange of vows, but she’d still wanted her sisters to be her bridesmaids.

  Their dresses were Grecian-style, simple and long, and the color of the Merlot that was to be served at dinner. Fred’s long brown hair had been braided and curled in a bun, and she looked elegant and sophisticated, which she was enjoying after spending most of her days in jeans out in the fields of vines.

  Sandi’s long blonde hair had also been braided and pinned up. She loved the dress, which was cool in the early summer weather, and it suited her, she thought, especially as she’d lost weight since she’d come to New Zealand. Back in the U.K., when she was oblivious—she couldn’t bring herself to say happy—she’d put on a few stone and had gone up two dress sizes, but now she’d slimmed down, and it was nice to show off her new slender figure.

  A movement to their right made them both turn, and there was Ginger, on Mac’s arm, standing at the edge of the lawn. Her white dress was in the same style as the bridesmaids’, simple and long with spaghetti straps and embroidery on the bodice. Ginger wore her coppery-blonde hair down, though, with her veil pinned on the back. She looked beautiful, and Sandi’s eyes filled with tears again.

  “Jeez, I shouldn’t have worn mascara.” Fred dabbed delicately beneath her eyes with a tissue. “I feel so emotional today.”

  “Me too,” Sandi whispered. “I suppose it’s not surprising. We’ve all been through so much. Seeing you so happy with Mac, and now seeing Ginger marrying Sam... I can’t believe we’re so lucky.”

  “You’ll be next,” Fred said firmly. “Just wait and see.” She held her hand out to her sister. “Come on. They’re about to walk over to the arch.”

  Sandi took her sister’s hand and followed her over to where Ginger and Mac were waiting. She felt such a mixture of emotions today. Of course, she was super happy that Ginger was getting married, because her sister had been to hell and back with all the problems with her ex. But she couldn’t deny that she felt a twist of envy deep inside.

  It was her own fault. She’d shut herself off from men, turning down not only Jace but also a couple of other offers for dates from local guys. She’d told herself she was too busy working on the bed and breakfast, and that had been true, because she’d worked her fingers to the bone cleaning, painting, and decorating the place to make it a fitting addition to the vineyard and its restaurant.

  The real problem was that she’d loved Brodie with every cell in her body, and he’d betrayed her in the most awful way, completely destroying her ability to trust. Now, she questioned everyone and everything. He’d made her cynical, and she hated him for that. And she was angry with him for making her hate, because she’d never been that kind of person before.

  She’d told Fred that they weren’t going to be victims, but if she remained like this, wasn’t she giving Brodie all the power? The best way she could show everyone—show herself—that she was no longer a victim was to trust again, to love again.

  It felt as if she was standing on one side of a gaping chasm, trying to jump across. There was no way she could possibly make it. She didn’t even want to attempt it, because she was sure she’d fail.

  But she’d always prided herself that she never balked at a challenge. You were like an avenging angel, Fred had said. What had happened to that girl?

  Was she going to let Brodie take away her courage, as well as her trust?

  “Hey!” Ginger’s happiness and excitement radiated from her, so dazzling that Sandi could have done with some sunglasses. “Wow, you two look amazing!”

  “And you look stunning.” Sandi kissed her on the cheek. “Are you ready to marry the man of your dreams?”

  “Couldn’t find him,” Ginger teased, “so Sam will have to do.” She looked at Mac, and for a moment her mask slipped, and she looked apprehensive. “Is he... um... nervous?”

  Mac snorted. “He’s like a man who’s won the lottery, bought an Aston Martin DB9, and inherited a whisky distillery, all at the same time.” He smiled. “He can’t wait to get married, love. Come on. Let’s make his day.”

  He held out his arm, Ginger slipped her hand through it, and they began to walk toward the wooden archway, past the guests seated on chairs, to where Sam and the celebrant were waiting.

  Fred and Sandi followed, carrying their posies. There were around fifty guests, mostly friends they’d made since they arrived in New Zealand, and some people who worked at the vineyard and restaurant, and they all oohed and aahed as Ginger and Mac walked down the middle to the front.

  Sam stood there, watching Ginger, and Mac was right—there was such a smile on his face it brought tears to Sandi’s eyes again. Crap—she didn’t have a tissue on her. She couldn’t burst into tears walking down the aisle.

  She looked away hastily, her gaze falling on Sam’s best man. And then she caught her breath.

  Jace Hart wasn’t checking the rings, or talking to Sam, or even watching the bride. His gaze was fixed on Sandi, and a
s their eyes met, he winked, and the corner of his mouth curved up.

  Fred was right—he was interesting, warm, and funny. And gorgeous. He didn’t seem arrogant or nasty in any way. He just looked like a nice guy. Maybe she should date him. Go out with him a few times. Then he’d invite her back to his place. It had been so long since she’d had sex, she’d almost forgotten how. They’d go to bed, and she had no doubt it would be fantastic. They’d go steady. She’d fall in love. Maybe they’d even get married.

  And every time he left her side, she’d have to trust that he wasn’t going to meet another woman.

  It felt as if someone had sucked all the air from her lungs. Her heart hammered.

  She wasn’t ready. It didn’t matter what Fred thought of her—she couldn’t possibly start dating again. She couldn’t let herself open her heart to another man. She just couldn’t.

  Averting her gaze, she looked back at Ginger as she took her place beside Sam, and concentrated on the celebrant as she began her introduction.

  Chapter Two

  SANDI DIDN’T THINK she’d ever seen anything as beautiful as Ginger and Sam’s wedding ceremony. It was a lot longer than Fred and Mac’s businesslike vows had been. The carved wooden archway with its white chiffon drapes, the colorful ribbons snapping over their heads, the brilliant summer sun smiling down on them all, and the jewel-like Pacific Ocean glittering in the background—they all combined with the scent of jasmine and the solemnness of the occasion to bring an ethereal quality to the afternoon.

  Or maybe it was just her state of mind, Sandi thought. She hadn’t eaten much that day, and she felt a touch lightheaded. But it really felt as if there was something magical happening, as Sam took Ginger’s hand in his, and said, “I, Samuel George Pankhurst, freely and with love and sincere desire, take you, Virginia Lara Cartwright, to become my wife. I promise to respect you and cherish you as an individual, a partner, and an equal. I will care for you, stand beside you, and share with you all of life’s adversities and all of its joys from this day forward, and all the days of my life. This is my solemn vow.”