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Had he been dreaming?

Doyle McKenny could hardly believe that he had just seen Olive Jardine, his friend from childhood, but more than that, the woman who had taken his heart and ripped it apart, then thrown it back at his feet. He’d offered her everything he had, and it hadn’t been good enough for her.

And foolishly, as he seemed to be any time Olive was around, he had run to her the first moment he’d seen her back in years, hoping that she’d finally come back to him.

Instead, she had someone else’s baby at her feet.

Doyle stroked through the lake, the cold water not doing anything to cool his hurt or his anger.

The anger had surfaced slowly, dug out from years of him burying it, using every excuse in the book to try to explain away why Olive had done what she had to him.

But now, seeing her back, seeing that the excuses that she’d given him had been just that, excuses, and realizing that he’d been a fool to carry a torch for her for so long, the anger couldn’t be suppressed any longer.

He swam a mile up the beach before he turned around, swimming back to the pebble beach at Raspberry Ridge. It was a nice, secluded beach, and because of the shape of the shoreline that protected it from large waves, typically there was no undertow.

It was a perfect place to take a swim. Which he usually did every morning starting about April, in his wetsuit. Since full summer had descended, the water hadn’t warmed up too much, but he no longer wore the wetsuit.

Not that he would have taken the time to put it on today anyway. As shocked as he had been from seeing Olive.

Why had she come back? And why had he run to her? Why couldn’t he stay away?

Those questions rolled around his mind as he swam the rest of the way back and considered turning around and tacking another two miles on the two he’d already done. He didn’t feel nearly worn out enough. So frustrated with himself.

But then, from his vantage point, he could see a car moving along the cliff and figured that church had probably let out. Actually, it might be empty.

He had already spoken with the new pastor about his need for a housekeeper. He figured in a place like Raspberry Ridge, the little country store owner and the pastor were the two people who probably saw most of the population on a regular basis.

If he was going to manage his company, a property management company, from his new base at Raspberry Ridge, he wasn’t going to be able to do it if he had to cook all of his own meals and clean up after himself.

The housekeeper that he’d had in Chicago had made him uncomfortable, but he’d still offered her the job in Raspberry Ridge, but she’d never gotten back to him. Which was just as well with him, since she made him uncomfortable. She was a little too...clingy? Nosy? Close. She just wanted to be too close to him.

Still, he was happy with his decision to move to Raspberry Ridge, at least he had been. Until he’d seen Olive. And her baby. And figured that there must be a husband around somewhere.

He finished walking out of the water, grabbing a small towel from where he’d left it on the beach along with his clothes. He ran it through his hair and swiped to get most of the water off his arms and torso and limbs before sticking his clothes back on.

He couldn’t do this in Chicago, take a spontaneous swim whenever he felt like it. There were definitely perks to coming back, even though he’d left most of the infrastructure that made doing business in the city so nice. The chance that you’d run into someone that you could do business with, or make a deal with, or who could scratch your back while you scratched theirs was much higher in Chicago than it had been here in Raspberry Ridge, but more and more people were going to working online, and the in-person benefits were declining.

Plus, he had gotten tired of the city. It was distracting, which is what he needed after Olive had left him, but it didn’t feed his soul and make him want to be a better person the way standing on the shores of Lake Michigan, looking out into the deep, wide expanse, and remembering the God who created it all did. That really made him want to step up and be better.

As he walked up on the beach, he saw Homer walking hand in hand with his wife Skyler, their young daughter tucked in one arm, as his wife held her arm around his mother, Gertie.

Gertie seemed to be in and out as the Alzheimer’s that she was fighting with took over more and more of her mind, but Homer had told him that he thought exercise was good for her, and as long as she wanted to continue to take walks, he would make the time.

He had gotten a good wife, one who obviously loved him and who loved his mother as well and took excellent care of her.

Why couldn’t he have fallen for someone like that?

Instead, he fell for someone who left him, saying that she just wanted to spread her wings a little and that she would come back for him, except...she hadn’t.

She hadn’t stayed in touch, hadn’t even kept up on social media. To his chagrin, he’d checked.

Sometimes he was just so desperate for any news of her, any news at all, that he couldn’t help checking her socials to see if she might be posting something, anything.

Maybe she had lied. Maybe her breakup speech was exactly that—an “I never want to see you again” type of thing.

“Hey there,” Homer said as they met along the beach.

“It’s a nice day for a swim,” he replied, nodding at Skyler and Miss Gertie.

They nodded back and smiled, and then Miss Gertie pointed to something ahead, and Skyler walked along with her.

Homer let her go and then shifted the baby from one arm to the other.

“What do you think of the new pastor?” Homer asked, and Doyle assumed he was just making conversation.

“I liked him. His messages were straight from the Bible, and he gave chapter and verse for the things that he said. I don’t want a man who’s going to go up there and just shout out his opinion for an hour.”

“Me either. I wouldn’t have voted for someone like that, even if his opinion aligns with mine. What’s the point in that? I’m not going to be challenged, I’m not going to grow as a Christian if we just have someone who has an opinion that agrees with mine.”

“Right. That’s why I asked the question I did, making sure that he was going to preach the Bible and not use his opinions as the basis for his sermons.”

“I’m satisfied that he’s not going to. I’ve been going to the daily Bible studies he’s been doing in the morning. Actually, we started them at my house, but they’ve moved them to his because his parents aren’t getting around well enough to come down. And it seemed kind of important that his mom be there.”

“That was considerate of you. Makes it a little bit harder for you.”

“Right now, my mom’s getting around just as well as she always has almost. Maybe someday she won’t be, and we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, I just appreciate the fact that there’s someone leading the Bible study and so many people are coming and getting things out of it.”

“What book are you studying?”

“We’re actually reading through the entire Bible. That’s what the study is. We read a few chapters, and Garnet gives his thoughts on them. He might apply them to our lives, show how we can use that scripture in our daily life, but for the most part, it’s more teaching than preaching.”

“It sounds good. Anyone can come?”

Homer smiled. “Yep. The only requirement is you have to bring food.” He looked serious for a moment, then his face broke into another grin. “All right. Maybe I made that up, and to be honest, there’s always more than enough food to go around. But in my opinion, a Bible study can never have too much food.”

“I’m in agreement with that opinion. I’ll see what I can do, although I’m looking for a housekeeper right now. I don’t do a whole lot of cooking myself, and what I do is barely edible. But when a man gets hungry enough, he can eat barely edible.”

“I know what you’re talking about, although I’ve mostly always lived with my mom. So, the times I’ve had to eat barely edible are few and far between, and I’m pretty sure you can tell.” Homer patted his stomach with the hand that wasn’t holding the baby.

She was a cute little thing, with her head wrapped up in a blue bonnet and her little eyes closed.

Is Olive’s baby a boy or a girl?

The thought came unbidden, and he tried to shove it away. He didn’t care about her baby, didn’t care about her, didn’t care about the man that she married or the life she was living. Hopefully she was just here in Raspberry Ridge for a short visit and would be moving along soon. He wasn’t sure if she was staying, that he could stay as well.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Homer about her, but he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he was curious about her. Because he wasn’t really.

He was lying to himself. He was curious. He did want to know. Anything that anyone could tell him about her, he would love to hear.

“All right, I’m going to head up. I don’t want to miss my Sunday afternoon nap.”

“I’m gonna get mine here as soon as the ladies have a walk. Hopefully the baby stays asleep long enough for me to take at least a short one.”

“Twenty minutes is supposed to be the ideal time, although I’m not sure I’ve ever found that to be true.”

“Twenty minutes is better than nothing,” Homer said, lifting his brows like he knew what he was talking about. And with a baby to raise, he probably did.

The thought of the baby pushed Doyle’s thoughts back toward Olive, but he did not allow the things that swirled in his brain to take over. He wasn’t going to think about her. He had his chance, and she said no, and that was all there was to it. He had to accept that.