Wind Chime Wedding (A Wind Chime Novel Book 2) Read online

  If you listen to your heart, it will always lead you home...

  Second grade teacher, Becca Haddaway, is weeks away from walking down the aisle with her high school sweetheart when she learns that the Heron Island Elementary School is about to be shut down. In the midst of a whirlwind of wedding planning, she launches into a last-ditch effort to save it. But the one man who can help her is determined to make her question every decision she has ever made—including the man she’s about to marry.

  Former Navy SEAL and son of the current Maryland governor, Colin Foley, is finally starting to feel whole again after losing his leg on a career-ending deployment in Afghanistan. After struggling for months to figure out what to do with his post-military life, he’s found a new mission—opening a rehab center for wounded veterans on the peaceful Chesapeake Bay island. All he needs now is a woman to share his new life with…and he knows exactly who he wants.

  With a little help from the island’s magical wind chimes, can Colin convince Becca to change her mind before it’s too late?

  Copyright © 2015 Sophie Moss

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Sea Rose Publishing

  Print edition ISBN numbers:

  ISBN-13: 978-0692470978

  ISBN-10: 0692470972

  Wind Chime Novels

  Wind Chime Café

  Seal Island Trilogy

  The Selkie Spell

  The Selkie Enchantress

  The Selkie Sorceress

  FOR THE MEMORY OF MY GRANDMOTHER

  Frances M. Nace

  1917-2004

  Miss Haddaway?”

  Standing in the doorway to her classroom, Becca Haddaway glanced down at eight-year-old, Luke Faulkner. He was clutching a piece of paper in his hands and shifting self-consciously from one foot to the other. “Hey, Luke. Is your mom running late again?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked down and pushed the paper toward her. “This is for you.”

  Becca’s heart melted when she unfolded a pencil drawing of a bunny with big floppy ears in a field of clover. “This is so sweet. Thank you, Luke… But wouldn’t you rather give this to your mom? I’m sure she’d love to have it.”

  He shook his head. “I want you to have it.”

  Becca scanned the crowded hallway filled with parents and students heading out for the long weekend. She didn’t see his mother anywhere. “Why don’t you stay and hang out for a while? I picked up some colored pencils at the store the other day. You could do another drawing for your mom, and then I could walk you home afterwards.”

  “That’s okay.” He dug the toe of his sneaker into the tile. “She’ll be here.”

  Becca frowned when she spotted the holes in his shoes. His grass stained jeans looked like they could use another spin through the washing machine, and she was pretty sure he was wearing the same sweatshirt he’d worn yesterday.

  Bending down to untangle the frayed laces of one of his shoes that had come untied, she glanced back up at his face, watching him for a reaction. “You’ve been quiet in class this week.”

  His small mouth thinned, his hands tightening around the straps of his backpack.

  “I know things have been hard at home since you lost your father,” Becca said gently, leaning back on her heels after she finished tying his shoe. “I’m always here if you want to talk, even outside school hours. You know I only live a few houses down from you. If you ever need anything, all you have to do is knock.”

  He nodded, avoiding her eyes.

  Most schools would caution teachers to not get so involved in their students’ personal lives, but this was Heron Island—less than three miles wide, with a population of only eight hundred year-round residents. People made it their business to know what was going on in their neighbors’ lives, as much to look out for one another as for the gossip. More than one person had mentioned being concerned about how Luke might be getting on at home these days. It was her responsibility to make sure none of her students slipped through the cracks.

  The sound of a rattling muffler drew her gaze out to the parking lot. A small, beat-up sedan pulled up to the entrance of the elementary school and Luke’s mother jumped out of the driver’s seat, rushing toward the glass doors.

  “I have to go,” Luke said, already jogging down the hallway to meet her. “Happy Easter,” he called back over his shoulder.

  “You too,” Becca said, rising slowly back to her feet.

  Courtney Faulkner pushed through the entrance. Her face was pale. Her dark blond hair was piled in a messy knot on top of her head. And she was still wearing her black hairdresser apron. She caught Becca’s eye and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry,’ as she grabbed Luke’s hand and pulled him back toward the car.

  Becca watched them drive away. She knew Courtney was doing her best. She was probably in a hurry to get Luke home and fed and shuttled over to her brother’s house so she could race off to her second job, where she worked as a night shift housekeeper at one of the hotels a few towns over.

  Looking back down at the paper in her hand, she wondered if Luke had given her the drawing because he thought his mother was too busy to appreciate it. She knew Courtney was far too proud to ask for help. And as much as Becca respected her independence and determination to pick up the pieces after her husband’s death, everybody needed to lean on someone now and then.

  Walking back over to her desk, she slipped the drawing into her purse and surveyed the mess from the surprise party she’d thrown for her class that afternoon. The tables and chairs had been pushed into a haphazard circle. The floor was covered in plastic eggs and candy wrappers. A questionable sticky substance was smeared across several flat surfaces, which she could only hope was leftover from the marshmallow bunnies that had almost incited a riot when she’d passed them out earlier.

  Smiling at the memory of her students’ excited squeals when she’d announced that instead of practicing double-digit subtraction they were going to have an Easter party, she spotted Shelley Needham walking down the hall. “Shelley,” she called out to the Heron Island Elementary School principal. “I’ve hardly seen you around all week. Where have you been?”

  Shelley paused in the doorway. Her short, curly gray hair was slightly mussed. Her hazel eyes were distant and troubled. “Meeting with the board.”

  “Why?” Becca asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Shelley offered a ghost of a smile. “Routine stuff. Planning for next year.” She reached down, snagging a pink plastic egg off the floor. “I’m surprised you had time to throw a party today. Don’t you have enough on your plate with the wedding and the move?”

  Becca ignored the sudden twinge of apprehension. She was getting married to her high school sweetheart, Tom Jacobson, in three weeks and moving to D.C. after their honeymoon. She should feel excited about her new life…not anxious. Reaching for the broom propped against the wall, she started to sweep up the sparkly bits of green plastic grass. “I found time.”

  “That reminds me…” Shelley fished out a piece of dark chocolate from inside the egg. “I still haven’t gotten your letter of resignation.”

  “Oh, right.” Becca’s gaze landed
on the envelope that had been burning a hole through her desk for two weeks now. She had given Shelley plenty of advance notice, but she hadn’t made it official yet. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the letter. What was the point in putting it off any longer? Crossing the room, she handed the envelope to Shelley. “I keep forgetting to give it to you.”

  Shelley took it, slipping it into her pocket. “Thanks.”

  Becca paused when she noticed the dark circles under the other woman’s eyes. “You look tired.”

  Shelley forced another smile. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Becca set the broom down, gesturing for her to come further into the classroom. Shelley had been like a second mother to her since she was sixteen. She could usually tell when something was wrong.

  Shelley’s gaze drifted out to the playing fields. “I really didn’t want to burden you with this.”

  Becca closed the door behind them. “What’s going on?”

  Shelley sighed, running her hands down the front of her wrinkled suit jacket. “I guess I’m going to have to tell everyone on Monday anyway. I might as well tell you now.” She looked back at Becca. “The board is thinking of shutting us down.”

  “What?” Becca’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “The state cut the education budget for next year.”

  “But we’ve survived plenty of budget cuts in the past. Our district always finds a way to come up with the money.”

  “This time it’s different,” Shelley said. “A few of the board members have been pushing to shut us down for a while now. They’re convinced that the county could save a lot of money by consolidating. The governor’s decision to reallocate the funding for next year has motivated them to explore their options.”

  No way, Becca thought. There was no way the board would actually shut down the school. Heron Island Elementary had been open for over sixty years. She had gone to school here. Her father had gone to school here. Almost every person on this island had gone to school here. There had to be another way to balance the budget. “What about the renovations the board approved for the gym—the ones that were supposed to happen this summer? Can’t they be pushed back?”

  “I’ve spent the past six months convincing the board that those renovations had to happen. They think the gym won’t be safe for the kids if we don’t get the work done this summer. And even if we did try to delay it, it still wouldn’t make up even a fraction of the cost that it would save by shutting us down.”

  “Where will all the kids go?” Becca asked.

  “St. Michaels Elementary.”

  “But those classrooms are already overcrowded.”

  “I know,” Shelley said. “I wish I had a better solution. I’ve been trying to talk them out of it, but it’s not looking good.”

  Becca sat down in one of the kids-sized chairs, staring at the sticky marshmallow goo smeared across the table.

  “I know it’s a small consolation,” Shelley said after a long pause, “but you picked a good time to leave.”

  A good time to leave? Becca lifted her gaze to the wall covered in construction paper bunnies that her students had made that day. It was one thing to leave her job as a teacher, but the thought of the school closing down completely…?

  This classroom had been her mother’s classroom when she was a second grade teacher. All Becca had ever wanted was to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She would have been happy to teach at this school for the rest of her life. She had agreed to move to D.C. to be with Tom because that’s where his job was now, but she had secretly hoped that he might want to move back here one day, that he might tire of the city after a while and want to work at one of the smaller firms in Easton or St. Michaels. She had hoped that, maybe, after a few years, she might be able to come back and teach at this school again.

  Becca looked up at Shelley. “I might be leaving, but this island is still my home. I wish you had told me what was happening. I could have been doing something to help. Why don’t you let me talk to the board? If nothing else, I could raise the issue of Taylor.”

  “I already have.” Shelley pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. “Dozens of times. They said they’re planning to hire more counselors next year, that it would be good for her to get used to the structure of how the larger schools work for when—”

  “For when what?” Becca cut in. “When she has to go to middle school? That’s three years from now. Taylor will be in third grade next year. She still has a long way to go before she’s ready to face a classroom of thirty-plus kids. She needs to be here, where we can give her the attention she deserves. Where she can be taken care of, and where all the teachers care about her progress, not just one counselor who might be able to fit her in between all her other appointments.”

  “Becca,” Shelley said softly. “I know. Believe me, I’ve said all the same things to the board.”

  Becca met Shelley’s gaze across the table. It wasn’t just Taylor who would be affected. If this school shut down, Shelley and all the other teachers would lose their jobs. “What will happen to you?”

  Shelley picked at the yellow sugar stuck to the marshmallow goo with her fingernail. “I’ve started putting out feelers to some of the other schools in the area, but no one’s hiring right now. It might be time for me to retire, or find something else to do…”

  “Are you ready to retire?”

  “No, but neither was Della when she got laid off last year. She worked as a receptionist in that law firm in Easton for thirty years and now she’s a chef at the café. I’ve never seen her so happy.”

  “That’s not the same,” Becca argued. “Della loves to cook. She didn’t want to answer phones and manage calendars for the rest of her life. This is your passion, Shelley—kids and teaching. You’ve been working here your whole life. You can’t just let that go.”

  Shelley smiled sadly, covering Becca’s hand with her own. “We always knew this could happen one day. I’m just glad you decided to leave before it happened to both of us.”

  A mile down the island, Colin Foley stood inside the waterfront inn his friend, Will Dozier, had inherited from his grandparents last year. Pulling his gaze from the thin crack snaking through the wall beside the fireplace in the family room, he glanced over at the contractor. “How much is this going to set us back?”

  “We need to replace the drywall and repair the damage to the foundation,” Jimmy Faulkner answered. “Two weeks worth of labor. Maybe a few extra grand, probably closer to five.”

  Colin ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t worried so much about the money. He was worried about the delay. He’d already told several key donors that they would be open by Memorial Day.

  He couldn’t go back on his word to the first people who’d invested in him, or to the families of his former SEAL teammates who’d already made plans to travel out to the island for the opening.

  It would be the first time they’d all gotten together since the devastating mission in Afghanistan that had ended with two of their youngest team members being flown home in body bags and an extended stay at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center for him.

  When he’d returned home from that career-ending deployment over a year ago with the lower half of his left leg blown off by a grenade, he’d struggled for months to figure out what to do with his life. It was a trip to Heron Island last November to visit his former team leader that had sparked the idea to open a rehab center for wounded warriors on the island.

  Colin had managed to convince Will to go into business with him, and as soon as his friend’s contract with the Navy was up in a few weeks, he’d be moving back to Maryland to help run the place.

  This inn had been in Will’s family for generations, but at the moment, it was Colin’s responsibility. He didn’t take that responsibility lightly. “If you need to hire more men to get the job done faster, hire more men. We need to open by Memorial Day.”

  Jimmy removed his red trucker hat, rubbing the heel
of his palm over his scalp. “What about Becca’s wedding?”

  Becca’s wedding? Crap. He’d completely forgotten about that. Will had promised Becca that she could hold her wedding here the week before they opened. They couldn’t go back on their word now. “We need to have everything finished and cleaned up before then.”

  “It’s going to be tight,” Jimmy warned.

  Reaching into his pocket for his phone when it buzzed, Colin glanced down at the screen, then back up at Jimmy. “Whatever you need to do, just do it.”

  Jimmy nodded and Colin turned, picking up the call. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Colin,” his father’s deep voice came through the line. “I understand you cancelled your seat at the Victory PAC fundraiser in Baltimore tonight.”

  “I had to make a last minute trip down to the island.” Colin stepped over a pile of paint cans on his way out to the porch. “Something came up at the inn.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Just a minor setback, nothing we can’t handle.”

  “Good,” Nick Foley said. There was a pause and Colin heard a muffled voice in the background, most likely his campaign manager or one of his assistants. As the Governor of Maryland, his father rarely went anywhere without an entourage of assistants.

  When his father came back on the line, his tone was rushed. “Are you still planning to attend the dinner at The Dockside in Annapolis on Saturday night?”

  Colin looked out at the wide sloping green lawn that led down to the Chesapeake Bay. The last thing he wanted to do was sit through another fundraiser dinner, but part of the agreement he’d made with his parents when he’d committed to work on his father’s campaign through May was attending at least two social events per week. “I’ll be there.”

  “Natalie wants to know who you’re bringing.”

  “I’m sure she does.”