Page 54 of Meet Me on Lilac Lane

He should have known better.

Cody’s feet pounded along the boardwalk. Unable to sit still this morning, he’d answered the call of the morning sun and went out for a run. In the past few days, he’d tried to put his head down and make some progress on finding the parts for his boat. He planned on making some calls to former clients as well. Fat chance.

Because then Mia called, upset because she wasn’t going to make her quota. Then his mother had needed him to help his father move the wood pile from one side of the yard to the other because she wanted to plant blueberry bushes. And was that a pretext to get them together and talking again? Probably. Didn’t work. Sorry, Mom. And then Dani had him come tear out some cabinets in one of the storefronts. And suddenly it seemed like everything else was more important than finding the right gasket for a twenty-year-old marine engine.

After an hour of frustration scouring eBay, Boat Parts Unlimited, and Marine Wholesale—usually his go-to websites—he had been unsuccessful in getting the part he needed. Even with the income from fixing up houses and businesses around town, he didn’t have the funds to source a new engine, not even a half-working refurbished one. Not if he could convince his dad to sell—he needed every penny he had saved for that.

He’d concluded that the whole world was telling him, “Nope. Not today.”

His restless feet had propelled him into his running shoes and out the door.

Stubborn thoughts chased him down the trail. No boat parts meant no boat. No boat meant no fishing business. And if his dad was going to cling to his decision to give up the commercial license, Cody’s dreams were dead in the water anyway. The waiting list for those licenses stretched to the moon. His dad’s would be snapped up before Cody even had a chance to add his name to the list.

Overhead, a flock of seagulls whirled and spun in the air. Going nowhere but making a lot of noise doing it.

He put a little more speed into his step.

If he wasn’t going to be a fisherman anymore, who was he going to be? Sure, being the island handyman paid the bills, but he didn’t want to be fixing toilets and replacing drywall for the rest of his life. He liked being outdoors, even in rough weather.

He stumbled over a high spot in the boardwalk, his momentum carrying him over and down on one knee. He landed hard with a loud crack. Hopefully that was the board and not his kneecap.

“Whoa! Are you okay?”

Wincing, he stood back on his feet. A quick check of his knee showed it was mostly his ego that got bruised. Pastor Arnie sat on a bench near the boardwalk, his shock of red hair lit by the sun. Cody hadn’t noticed him before. Pastor Arnie got up and moved over to him. The fifty-something man had pastored on Jonathon Island for almost thirty years. His wife, Tara, was affectionately known as the town mom.

“That looked painful.”

Cody grimaced. “Yep.” He put his hands on his thighs and bent a little at the waist, breathing hard. Coming to an abrupt stop was not a great way to end a run.

“Sorry. I guess I stated the obvious. Anything I can do? Doesn’t look like you’re bleeding.” Arnie reached out and put a hand on Cody’s shoulder.

“I just need to catch my breath a minute.” He stumbled a step or two, still bent over.

Arnie reached for his elbow. “You can share my bench, if you’d like.”

Cody sat next to Arnie. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back. The sun warmed his face. Around them, the gulls still called to each other. A fishy smell filled the air. He let a few minutes of silence pass.

Opening his eyes again, he looked at the preacher. Pastor Arnie sat with his elbows propped on the backrest, looking calm and content. Cody got the sense he would sit there all day if he thought that was needed.

“Thanks,” Cody said. “I appreciate you sitting with me.”

“My pleasure,” Pastor Arnie said. “I come out here to think. I was just about to head back to the church when you tumbled by.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“How is that boat of yours coming?” Pastor Arnie had been among the crowd who’d gathered last fall when his derelict treasure had been towed into the marina and then up to his pole shed shop.

“Slow.” He detailed the process and how he’d been stymied at every turn. “Now I can’t find the part I need to get the engine running again.”

“So, basically everything in the world is distracting you from getting this job done.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “That about sums it up.”

“I don’t know.” Pastor Arnie paused.

“What?”

“I could be way off base here, but I’ve known you for years. I don’t think you’d let a few setbacks and distractions prevent you from finishing something you set your mind to.”

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