Page 25 of Steinbeck (The Minnesota Kingstons #5)

“Boz and Anna were—they were so excited. And for a long minute there, I thought everything would be... better. That I’d have a family and maybe I didn’t have to be who I was.

..” She scrubbed her hands down her face.

“Anyway, about two days later, one of the kids claimed that they had twenty dollars taken from their bedside stash, and Boz and Anna asked if anyone had taken it. I hadn’t.

.. and even now I realize it was a just a question, but at the time, I thought they were blaming me.

I looked at Boz and laughed when he asked me if I knew where it was, when he said that he wasn’t going to allow stealing.

And he said, ‘It’s not funny, Emberly. You can’t live your old life and call yourself a new creation.

’” Shoot. Her eyes filled. “I realized I was never going to really be... different. Or new or whatever. So I left.”

“Self-sabotage.”

“Survival.”

He raised an eyebrow. “ Yeah . You said that Boz tracked you down...”

“ Yeah . I called Nimue and she told him where I was. I guess introducing me to Pike was his way of trying to fix the situation.”

“But in doing so, it sent a message that he was right. That you were a thief.” He slid off the chair and came toward her.

“I am a thief, Steinbeck.”

“In your eyes. Not in the eyes of your Savior. In his eyes, you’re forgiven.”

Her eyes stung.

She took a step back. “I don’t need a hug.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

But he didn’t advance, just held out his hand.

And heaven help her, she took it. And let him pull her to himself. She leaned her face against his chest.

“Emberly, the one Jesus loves.”

She stilled in his arms. He put his cheek against her head. “My mother used to say that to us. There is this disciple, John, in the Bible, who only identified himself as the one Jesus loved. She always said, what might it look like if we did the same?”

Emberly, the one...

No. It felt too... “That’s not me, Stein.”

“That’s all of us, Em.” He leaned back. “That’s how we go from survival to... saved. To a different life. To the life we were created to live.”

He seemed to be taking his own words in, nodding, almost to himself.

And maybe that’s why she said it, letting the words spill out. “What if everything was different? What if... I left the Swans?”

He pulled away, his blue eyes on hers. “What? Really?”

Except, of course, Nimue chose right then to enter the kitchen. She stopped, her golden-brown eyes wide. “Sorry.”

Stein’s mouth tightened, and he sighed.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Emberly said and stepped back.

He considered her a moment, as if trying to salvage their conversation. She looked away.

“I need to get back to work,” he finally said quietly. He picked up his lemonade and walked out the door.

“I have mentioned he’s amazing, right?” Nimue stood, hands on her hips. “Yum.”

“He’s taken, Nim.”

She turned, grinned. “Finally.”

Emberly met her smile.

“So, good news. I got into your server and found the trace of Luis’s hack into the Russian compound. He’s good, but I’m better.” She winked. “Because it led me into their cloud storage. I’m downloading it now. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll figure out what Tomas is up to.”

Emberly turned, looked back outside at Mr. Handy, putting up another pillar. “He’s right. The mission isn’t over. But it will be. And then... then this life is over.”

* * *

Steinbeck hadn’t originally hoped he could stay here forever, but frankly, after a week, and now, with the morning sun just tipping the far horizon, the warmth of the day eating at the dissipating velvety night, and the sense of doing something with his hands—building the gazebo—he’d started to wonder.

“That’s how we go from survival to... saved. To a different life. To the life we were created to live.”

His own words stuck in his head, along with Steinbeck, the one Jesus loves.

Those words could change his life if he let them dig into the soil of his heart. But he couldn’t escape the sense of purpose. The sense that maybe God had put him right here, right now and...

Well, he had no other moves on his horizon.

Which didn’t seem tragic as he stood, his feet mortared in the sand, the ocean waves soft, the sea almost tranquil.

The scant wind off the ocean was just enough to cool the thin layer of sweat that coated his skin, thanks to his morning calisthenics, and it stirred the scents of salt and brine and seaweed into the air.

He’d need a walk on the beach this morning, especially after Declan’s phone call. Clearly the man had forgotten the time change, because a glance at the clock had registered 4:00 a.m.

“Fun and games are over. I need you to come back and work for me.”

Not the call Stein had expected after walking away from his job as Declan’s private security. But he’d sat up in bed in the guest room, the sky still dark, all ears.

“We finished the virus. And now I’m taking it to New York City.”

He’d grunted, surprised when Declan said something about an exhibition at the upcoming UN General Assembly.

And then he said, “I need you, Stein.”

And shoot. The words had the power of bait. He hadn’t said yes... but the urge stirred inside him.

Except, “What if... I left the Swans?”

Stein hadn’t had a chance to circle back to Emberly’s words that night, not with dinner out with her and Nim at a cute Mexican place by the sea, followed by another West-Wing -a-thon.

And they’d all spent the next day at the beach, and he’d gone to bed staring at the shiplapped ceiling, the words settling inside.

By the third day, he didn’t know how to return to them or to face the terrible desire they raked up inside.

Except... what then?

Maybe it didn’t matter, because Declan had roused him out of the what-ifs back to reality.

Hence the early-morning trek out to the beach.

Nimue’s cute little cottage sat nestled in the dunes on a side road that extended from the beach, a tiny place with the barest view of the ocean. Two blocks away sat the quaint town of Melbourne Beach, just a strip of shops on a narrow spit of road.

He liked it here. Quiet. A place he could hear his thoughts.

Maybe the answer to Declan was no .

Maybe he wanted to go all in, building something different with Emberly.

Over the past five days, she’d shaken off her Phoenix layer and settled into someone he’d gotten a glimpse of back in Minnesota.

Relaxed. Laughing. Somehow, Emberly had gone from DEFCON 1 to all defenses down.

The woman who beat him in a game of chess, letting her lemonade sweat in the sun.

In truth, she’d slid into his heart and taken up residence.

Stein closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun, letting it soak into him. “I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth.”

“Whoo-hoo!”

The shout lifted from down the beach, and he glanced toward it and spotted a man rising from a beach chair, reeling in his fishing line, fighting with something past the breaking waves. Behind him was a cart with a cooler, a couple chairs, another rod and reel.

Steinbeck wandered down to watch.

Long dark hair pulled back, a worn ball cap on his head, tanned, a hint of a beard. He wore a pair of cargo shorts, a shirt with the sleeves torn off. He had strong arms and stood barefoot in the sand, bracing himself against the bowing fishing rod.

“What do you have on there?” Stein stopped, stared out into the waves.

“Pompano, maybe,” the man said. He pulled the rod back, then quickly took up the slack. “He’s a fighter.”

And right then, the fish lifted out of the water, struggling against the hook, a spray of water off the silvery body.

“It’s a tarpon!” The shout from the man emerged just as the fish shook hard and?—

Aw. The catch splashed into the water, and the man took a step back, the hook releasing.

“Well, briny.” The man stepped back and reeled in his line. Glanced at Steinbeck. “I have an extra pole if you want to throw in a line.”

“I’m not much of a fisherman. That’s my brother Jack. And mostly on lakes in Minnesota.”

The man reached over, handed him a pole. “You don’t know until you throw your hook in.” He winked. Kind face, brown eyes. Steinbeck couldn’t place his age.

He stepped away from the man, then cast the line into the ocean.

“The waves will carry it out. Let your line reel for a bit.” The man had reeled in his own line. The hook dangled, empty.

He picked up a stool from his gear and handed it to Stein. “Fishing is God’s great reminder to slow down long enough to think.”

Right. Stein took the stool and settled into the sand, the line reeling out into the blue.

“Set it.”

Steinbeck stopped the reel. When he looked up, the man had handed him a rod-holder tube. He set it in the sand and affixed his rod.

“Beautiful morning for catching fish.”

“Any luck yet?”

“It’s not luck. It’s Providence. Whatever God decides to give me.” He glanced over. “So far, just a couple near catches. We’ll see what the day brings. You from around here?”

“On vacation. I think.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I guess it’s more like a time-out.”

“Name’s Judah,” the man said and held out his hand.

“Steinbeck.”

“Really? Great author. I loved The Grapes of Wrath . A great story about the struggle to survive during the Great Depression. And man’s need to find meaning in life. ‘Muscles aching to work, minds aching to create beyond the single need—this is man.’”

“He’s not wrong.”

Judah grunted.

“You disagree?”

“I think meaning is inherent in our birth. It’s the pride of man to think he has to carve it out himself.

We surrender, and God carves it out.” He fixed his line and set his rod into the tube.

“It’s like my hook. It’s been set out there.

The fish find it. It’s not what it does but what it is that matters. ”

“Is this like in The Matrix when the boy tells Neo ‘There is no spoon’?”