Something about bonding over a giant ice-cream broke down the barriers faster than weeks of getting to know someone ever could. He watched Callie tuck into the giant confection, uncaring that she was getting it all over her face, and matched her mouthful for mouthful because he wasn't going to be made to look a wimp by someone half his size. Both of them went way past the stage at which they'd started to feel sick.
Daniel wondered if she knew that he'd never give up, even if it killed him. That he'd got through two years of prison through sheer determination alone. He'd surprised himself by not giving up on life--he wasn't going to give up on an ice-cream.
"I'm impressed," she said, giving him a sideways look as they strolled back along the boardwalk.
"Why? Didn't think I'd do it?" He walked beside her, hands in pockets, keeping close. The sunny weekend had brought out the crowds and the seafront was bustling with people, some milling about, others shopping, sunbathing, children shrieking and screaming. An organ-grinder played while a real-live monkey held out a cup, begging for coins. Callie dropped in the change from the ice cream.
"No, it's not that." She thought for a moment. "If I'd ordered you another, you'd have eaten it, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," he replied, stepping aside for a couple of teenagers on skates who shouldered between them.
Another short silence, then she turned to him again. "Is that what it was like in prison?" Her directness stopped him in his tracks. She stopped too, elbow on the boardwalk railing, waiting for an answer.
"Yeah," he said, unable, or possibly unwilling, to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Prison was like that. You do whatever it takes to get through, no matter how sick it makes you feel."
She watched him patiently. "I'm still impressed."
"Yeah, me too." He wasn't sure whether he was referring to himself or her when he said that. If it was him, it was the first time he'd thought of himself in those terms. He'd certainly never patted himself on the back and congratulated himself for surviving all this. All he could remember was the sigh of relief
"You should be," she said, turning to look at the sea. "Let's walk back along the beach." Before he could answer she was running down the steps leading from the boardwalk to the sand, slipping off her shoes. He left his boots on and followed her. She wasn't having that.
"No, Daniel, take them off, the sand's lovely and warm, let yourself feel it."
He hesitated and shook his head. "I'm fine, let's just get back." It felt as if everyone was looking at him, whispering behind their hands, the children pointing. "Didn't you say you had work to do?"
"It can wait. Take them off, go on. You're not walking along this beach in those boots."
She dipped towards him as if she was going to do it for him. He sidestepped sharply at her sudden movement. Get a grip, he told himself. Just a girl, just Callie. Callie gave him a brief look of concern and stood up. Slowly this time so as not to startle him again.
"What, you've got hobbit feet or something? Don't want me to see?" It made him laugh and broke the tension. Sitting on the steps, he took them off, stuffed his socks inside and tied the laces together like he used to do as a child.
"You see," she said, "no hobbit feet. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
She didn't look as if she wanted an answer, so he didn't give her one as they negotiated the crowds clustered around the steps. Happy people enjoying normal things. He walked among them, felt the same gritty sand between his toes, the same sun warming his back--then why didn't he feel part of them any more? He wondered if he'd ever lose this feeling of being an alien in a world that now felt all wrong. A world that had left him behind. Would he ever be able to walk by himself again without needing someone to follow?
"The ice cream," she said when the crowd thinned out. "It was just a joke, you didn't have to eat it all."
"Now you tell me."
"No, I mean it. Look, sit with me for a while. I need to talk to you."
The words caused a small thread of panic to ripple through him, as it had done just before she'd announced that she wanted him to stay, back at the house, and suddenly he couldn't remember whether she'd actually said it or not.
"Sure, you want to talk about the website?" he said, tentatively.
"No, there's plenty of time for that. I want to talk about you, if you don't mind."
It was bound to happen. Of course she'd want reassurance that he was okay, like everyone did. That story he knew off by heart. Hadn't he been telling it for the last six months?
"No, I don't mind," he said, "but I warn you. I'm a very boring person."
"Everything's okay?"
"Couldn't be better."
"That's good."
The house was about half a mile from the town centre and they'd almost reached it. Apart from a group of teenagers who were vainly trying to get a kite to fly, the beach was deserted. Callie led him over the dunes near the wall of the property, where she sat down and pulled off her sunglasses. Arranging her skirt over her drawn-up knees, she patted the space beside her.
"Come on, and don't look so worried, Daniel," she said, hands shading her eyes. "I just want to get to know you. Wouldn't you like to do the same with me?"
In another world, maybe. Another time, when he'd have been down on his knees in front to this beautiful woman quoting poetry by now. Somewhere, there was probably the perfect line for the way the sunlight caught her golden hair when it lifted in the breeze. The way her eyes softened as she looked up at him. He didn't know what colour they were because he hadn't gotten that close yet, but they no longer held any fear. Her initial reaction he'd been expecting. This quiet acceptance disarmed him completely. She didn't see a monster like most people did and she was the first woman since he'd come out of prison who'd heard his story and was still willing to sit in a secluded place and be alone with him.
God yes, this was a moment worthy of poetry. But he couldn't think of a single line. And even if there had been any poetry left in his life, the Daniel who'd quoted it so eloquently just wasn't there any more.
)
When an innocent man is released from prison he needs to rebuild his life. For Daniel Denham, that's easier said than done. Until he meets artist Callie Lester in her house by the sea. Callie Lester is horrified when her mother, who was Daniel's lawyer, announces that he's coming to stay. He's recently been released from prison for a crime he didn't commit and is looking for work. Callie needs a website to advertise her growing business as a portrait artist and Daniel is good at what he does. But he's a man with problems. Does she really want him around when things are so good? Fate seems to have decreed that she be the one to rescue him. Will she be up to the task? The moment Daniel walks into the house by the sea he knows that this is a place where he can begin to get his life back together. A place where he can heal. But things are never that simple. Rumours to some people are truth and facing the outside world and all its judgements is the hardest thing of all. Daniel comes out of prison a changed man, unsure of who he is and haunted by the things he had to do to survive it. He's surprised to find that he's not the only one who has ghosts from the past that need laying to rest. Callie needs him as much as he needs her and together they discover that love really the best healer of them all.
