The Space Between Us (Treasure Harbor Book 2) Read online

  The Space Between Us

  Treasure Harbor Two

  Leah Atwood

  Copyright © 2016 by Leah Atwood

  Cover Design © T.K. Chapin

  Cover Image © Adobe Stock Images

  Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.

  Treasure Harbor Series

  Treasure Harbor: Seven novellas centered on a quest to find treasure hidden by a notorious pirate, Drake Burton, in the seventeen-hundreds. When Nor’easter Igor unearths gold coins on Bounty Beach in Treasure Harbor, treasure seekers from near and far converge on the town in hopes of finding the treasure of a lifetime. Set in the Outer Banks of North Carolina in the seaside town of Treasure Harbor, this eight book series features heroes and heroines who are dealing with the fact that their beloved town has gone treasure crazy.

  Some Kind of Wonderful

  The Space Between Us

  Treasured Love

  Stolen Legacy

  His Timeless Treasure

  His Precious Jewel

  The Sum of Love

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  A Note From the Author

  Whispers of Love

  Calling Love Excerpt

  Other Available Titles from Leah

  To D.M. and all who’ve come home and found a different battle to fight.

  Chapter One

  The bell above the door chimed, interrupting Avery Callahan from processing the new stock which arrived that morning. Lifting her head, she appraised the new customer. Camera around the neck, brochures sticking out of her purse, and clean sandals with no signs of wear.

  A tourist.

  “What can I help you find today?” Don’t say books on the treasure, don’t say books on the treasure.

  “Do you carry any literature on the history of the lost treasure?” the customer asked, earning Avery’s immediate annoyance.

  “No, ma’am.” Avery pasted a plastic smile on her face. If one more person came in before she closed for the day and asked about the treasure, she’d… well, she’d close early so she didn’t scream at a customer.

  She despised the treasure and everything it represented. When she’d bought Bounty Books from the previous owner, she’d taken every book related to the treasure out of stock. She’d wanted to change the store name as well, but Bounty Books had a well-established customer base, which she didn’t want to rock with too many changes.

  The lady looked at her, brows furrowed in confusion. “But you’re the only bookstore in town. I thought for sure you’d carry something.”

  “My apologies. However, if you’d liked a book about the history of Treasure Harbor and the crystal coast, I do carry numerous titles of those.”

  “No thanks. I specifically wanted a book to read regarding the lost treasure.”

  Tamping down her unwarranted irritation toward the innocent woman, Avery stepped out from behind the counter and walked to the door. She pointed to a building across the street. “Harborview Gifts has a nice selection of what you’re searching for. The historical society also has a large collection of documents that might interest you.”

  “Thank you.” The lady turned and walked out the door.

  Avery put out an arm to block the door from closing. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the salty air blowing in from an ocean breeze. She needed a break from the store. Normally she’d stay in and have a working lunch, but her nerves were simmering to a slow boil.

  It was all she could do not to take a vacation until this treasure mess blew over. Get as far away from Treasure Harbor and gold as she could. Maybe Alaska. No, there’d been a gold rush there, and she wanted nothing to do with gold fever. Nothing at all.

  Once upon a time, her parents had nearly split over the legend of the lost Callahan treasure, stolen by Drake Burton. How many other families had been torn apart over the course of three hundred years of fable and lore?

  Just when she’d thought the rumors had faded for good, the storm last month changed everything. When the storm surge receded, several coins were found on the beach and had been traced back to the time of Drake Burton. All rumors of the lost treasure resurrected overnight, and the town had been in a frenzy since.

  Disgusted, she slammed the door and locked it. Flipped the open sign to close and adjusted her Be Back At sign for noon. She grabbed her wallet then slipped out the back door. The scent of a robust marinara and sautéed garlic teased her senses. She circled to the front of the building and crossed the street, following her nose to Pirate Pizzeria.

  Sauce made from scratch every morning, never a frozen crust, and freshly shredded, imported mozzarella. Hands down, Pirate Pizzeria had the best pizza along the coast. She’d eat it every day if her waistline wouldn’t grow. Reaching for her phone, she started to call her sister, Lara, and invite her to lunch then remembered she had plans with Ryan for the day.

  There was sure to be someone at the Pizzeria she knew and could join, but if not, she didn’t mind sitting by herself. The more she thought about it, today was one of those rare days she’d rather not have company. Everybody in town lately was incapable of having a conversation that didn’t include the treasure.

  Her opinion was that the treasure didn’t exist. Just because she didn’t carry the literature, didn’t mean she lacked knowledge of the story. The opposite, in fact, though none of that knowledge convinced her there was a lost treasure. She could quote from memory every theory and postulation about what had happened to the lost valuables. She knew every piece of gold and jewelry to wash ashore and be recorded at the historical society.

  And all of the information taught her that not all knowledge is a positive power. It could be a disease that invaded a person’s senses and kept them craving more until it became an obsession and ruined their life. Or marriage.

  Her decision not to carry any books in her store was an intentional choice. She would not be party to any other lives ruined by an elusive, veiled promise of riches. However, there were times she wished the rumors and legends were true—then there was hope of someone finding the treasure and putting an end to the madness once and for all.

  She shook her head, clearing all negative thoughts from her mind. A slice of pizza topped with grilled peppers, onions, and chicken, was too delicious to enjoy while disgruntled.

  The line reached the door, typical for that time of day. Most patrons were there to pick up a slice or two, then eat on the go or once they’d returned to work. Once she was inside, she could skip lines and go to the shorter one for parties wishing to be seated.

  While she waited, she scanned the restaurant for any friends. She spotted a few casual acquaintances and waved to them in their seats, but she didn’t see anyone with whom she could trust to share a meal and not bring up the treasure.

  Charlene, one of the waitresses, sat her at a corner table away from the bulk of the crowd. “I know you want be away from all the talk. It hasn’t stopped all day.”

  Her reputation around town for despising anything and everything related to the treasure preceded her. Common knowledge to the locals, but not to the visitors who inundated her cozy little town.

  Avery rolled her
eyes. “I wish I could close my eyes and make it go away.”

  “Don’t think that’s happening anytime soon. All the false calls with the coins only stirred it up more and started rumors of other treasures.”

  “I don’t know how Lara can stand writing stories about it.” She wrinkled her nose, not caring who saw her.

  “Your sister might hate the treasure, but she loves a good story.” Charlene winked. “And Treasure Harbor hasn’t seen a story like this in years, at least not that I know of.”

  “No, nothing like it in my lifetime.”

  “Do you know what you want or should I come back in a few minutes?”

  A menu sat wedged between a shaker of parmesan cheese and another filled with crushed red peppers. She knew the offerings but absently picked up the laminated paper and gave it a once-over. “A slice of the grilled chicken specialty and a side greek salad.”

  Charlene scribbled the order on her notepad. “Raspberry tea to drink?”

  “You know me so well.” Small towns had their advantages, and knowing each other well was one, though sometimes it was a curse.

  “Shouldn’t take but a few minutes. Brody just put a fresh pie in the oven.”

  She suppressed an eye roll at the mention of Brody. Unambitious, obnoxious—two of the many unflattering qualities that stood out about him. “Sounds good. Thanks Charlene.”

  Not even two minutes later, Brody appeared at her table with a frosted cup in hand. To her dismay, she had a fleeting thought that he was an attractive man, even in the red polo uniform top. Wavy brown hair was trimmed short at the sides, and slightly longer at the top. Wrinkles creased the corners of his cocoa colored eyes, making him appear older than his twenty-eight years. She only knew his age because Ryan Burton, her sister’s fiancé, was friends with him and had mentioned it one time. Disgusted with her musings, she shoved the thought aside.

  He put one hand behind his back and bowed, setting the cup on the table. “Your tea, madam.”

  “Why are you bringing it?” she asked, aware of her rudeness, but perturbed by his presence.

  “Can’t a man hand deliver a drink to a beautiful woman?” He flashed her a wink and thick, long lashes tapped his brow.

  “Do you take anything in life seriously?”

  “More than you know.” He spun around and abruptly left.

  Her loud sigh caught the attention of the patrons who’d just been seated at the table next to her. She gave an apologetic smile before taking a sip of her tea. Why had she been so rude to Brody? The man got under her skin, but she’d never treated him like she had just now. She wrote it off to her frustrations about the treasure.

  Charlene came with her pizza and salad. “What did you say to Brody? He came back to the kitchen in a huff.”

  “All I did was ask if he took anything in life seriously.” She grimaced. “I might have said it with an attitude.”

  “What do you have against him?”

  “He’s annoying, and I heard he’s here seeking the treasure.” The second reason was enough to cause dislike in and of itself.

  “Now Avery, you’re like a little sister to me, so I say this out of love.” Charlene skimmed the restaurant, making sure none of her tables were in immediate need. “You need to get over yourself.”

  The words punched her in the stomach. “What do you mean?”

  “Brody’s been here for four months, since before the treasure hysteria began. Secondly, you’re judging him without knowing his story.”

  “He’s a grown man working at a pizza joint. How can I take him seriously?”

  Charlene flinched. “He’s the manager, plus I’m a grown woman working at a pizza joint. Life isn’t always wrapped up in a pretty bow, and you do what you have to do to survive. It would do you well to remember that.”

  Immediate remorse for her poorly chosen words knotted her stomach. She placed a palm on Charlene’s arm. “I’m so sorry. Of course I didn’t mean it like that, but Brody… I don’t know. He drives me insane.”

  “Have you thought about why that is?” She glanced toward the kitchen again. “I better get back.”

  Avery sat alone at her table. Horrible guilt for insulting a friend kept her from enjoying the meal she’d looked forward to. When the check came, she left Charlene an extra generous tip as amends for running her mouth.

  She stood to leave, subconsciously searching for Brody. Her eyes locked on his, and he shared a distant, disappointed smile before breaking contact.

  Was there more to Brody than what met the eye?

  Chapter Two

  Brody counted out his tips for the night. He rarely waited tables, but one of the teenagers who worked for him went home sick mid-shift, and he’d had no choice except to step in and help. Chris Malone, Pirate Pizzeria’s owner, paid him a generous salary to be the manager, but every extra penny helped.

  He wrote the tip amount on his time sheet and clocked out. Mr. Malone didn’t spare any expense when it came to food quality, but his record keeping, including time sheets, was terribly outdated.

  Then again, before he came to Treasure Harbor, Brody hadn’t filled out a time sheet in nearly a decade. The military had people who accounted for his daily presence, and there was no such thing as overtime. He worked until the job was done, even if that meant sixteen-hour days, which happened more often than not. Forget regulations.

  Before he left, he checked his phone for any messages. Only a text from Evan, a friend from the Marine Corps, to set up a meeting time to brainstorm ideas. He didn’t want to delay the visit, but he didn’t want it rushed either, and the next several weeks were crammed full.

  He sent a quick reply. —I’ll have to get back to you, Crazy weeks coming.

  Brody locked up and drove home. He rented a small studio apartment on top of one of the beach shops. The price was a steal, especially considering the oceanfront view it offered. Every morning and evening he opened the windows wide and sat in the armchair. He’d read his Bible, or be still and listen to God speak through the gentle lapping of waves against the beach.

  He needed that peace. Life hadn’t been easy the last eight and a half years. Ha. A snort escaped. There weren’t words to describe what he’d been through while in the Corps. They were the best years of his life, but also the worst. He’d learned more about life than he ever wanted to know, which said a lot considering he’d been on his own since he was sixteen.

  Life and death. Choice and consequence. Fair and unjust.

  There wasn’t much in life that was fair. It’s the only conclusion he could surmise after all he’d seen. Entire towns blasted to pieces. Innocent people killed by the enemy and from collateral damage. Fallen comrades. There wasn’t a right or wrong answer. Just as life wasn’t fair, it wasn’t written in black and white. He didn’t have the answers, and he was grateful he wasn’t charged with finding them.

  He fingered the outline of his Eagle, Globe, and Anchor tattoo. It didn’t just symbolize his service to his country. It was every drop of blood he’d shed, and that of those before him along with those who would follow. It was for God. For freedom. For country.

  Four small circles lined one side and four on the other. Each one added throughout his time of service and represented a fallen friend.

  He’d seen too much. When it came time to re-up, sign another contract, he couldn’t do it. Enough was enough. For his own self-preservation he had to get out. He wouldn’t become a statistic, like circle number eight, Patrick McDonald.

  The only question had been where to go. Home outside of the barracks didn’t exist for him. His mom was in jail, his dad nowhere to be found. The life he’d had in Iowa seemed foreign now.

  Treasure Harbor was the only place that called to him. He’d spent many weekends here with his buddies, as it was only a forty minute drive, sixty during peak tourist season, from the air station. On the day he’d EAS’d—his last day of service—he’d loaded his jeep with his meager belongings and made the drive at sunset.


  The moment he crossed the bridge and saw the sign for Treasure Harbor, an overwhelming sense of home prevailed. He’d moved into the apartment he’d already secured, and sat by the window the entire night, not sure in which direction his life headed. He’d had little purpose, little motivation to move forward.

  He’d been numb.

  His first Sunday in Treasure Harbor, he’d attended Safe Harbor Church on a whim. That day, his life changed. His life wasn’t meaningless, and God had a purpose for him. During that hour long service, he’d been reminded of a decision he’d made as a child. As a teen, and then as an adult, he’d tried to run, but in that small, seaside church, God had pulled him back.

  Many days were rough, but each week got better. Few people in Treasure Harbor knew of his inner turmoil, saw the man behind the carefree smile. His boss, Chris, knew the most. A Vietnam vet, he understood the struggles, had witnessed his own version of living nightmares.

  Brody owed a lot to Chris, who offered him the position when he had no experience working in a restaurant, let alone managing one. He enjoyed the job. Compared to life in the Corps, it was a cakewalk, and he liked the constant interaction with people. On the hardest days, the customers’ familiar greetings kept him grounded. Reminded him he belonged.

  After he entered his apartment, he fed Jinx, the smoky gray cat from downstairs who voluntarily joined him in the evening and returned to the shop for business hours the next day. He took a shower and rid himself of restaurant stink, a conglomerate of smells that, individually, tantalized the senses, but, jointly, produced a nauseating effect.

  Though it was late, he wasn’t ready for sleep. He still struggled, often stayed awake through the night. He pulled on a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt. Ran a hand through his hair, not bothering with a comb. The hour was late, and he doubted anyone would be on the beach. Not anyone who’d notice his hair, anyway.

  He scratched Jinx behind his ears and gave his head a pat before walking down the exterior steps that led to a small boardwalk. Crossing the planks, he watched the sky, picking out his favorite constellations. He’d done that many times when deployed. If he could make out the shapes, it kept this sanity together when it should have shattered to pieces. The world couldn’t be that big if he could see the same stars from six thousand miles away. In a way, the constellations gave him roots when he had none otherwise.