Chapter One

June, 1963

 

Charles Huston Kelly dared not take his eyes off the dark-auburn-haired woman walking tentatively toward the waves. If he looked away, he feared she might vanish forever. He’d come to the beach to watch the pounding surf after a long, strenuous estate battle finally drew to a close, needing to be near the elemental pull and push of the ocean so as to clear his head. He’d never expected to encounter the woman who’d been haunting his dreams for months, ever since he’d first laid eyes on her at a dinner held by a friend.

But there she was, staring out at sea, the wind whipping her hair wildly, plastering the skirt of her dress to her body in a way that revealed her curves without being lewd.

Since he’d spotted her, she’d edged down toward the sea farther and farther with slow steps. Her shoes lay discarded ten feet behind her, apparently forgotten. That simple clue, as well as her hesitant steps, struck fear in his heart.

Praying he was wrong, he set off down the sand, battling the gusty wind as he walked as calmly as he could as quickly as he could. Let me get to her in time, God. Please let me stop her before she vanishes into the waves.

He had no doubt she would vanish, as strong as the surf was this afternoon. She’d go under before he could get to her, and that would be the last anyone ever saw of Kathy Browning—at least alive. After having watched her for what felt like hours but was in fact a fraction of that time, he knew that was her intention.

Can you blame her? a voice inside his head whispered. After what she’s been through, losing her husband and children, most people would be hard-pressed to find a reason to go on living.

“Yes, I can blame her,” he ground out as he hurried along. “Damn it, she’s too young to give up. There has to be a better way to stop the pain.”

He’d been trying to convince himself of that for eleven years, ever since he was nineteen and had been summoned home from school following his father’s death. A gun accident, they’d called it, sugarcoating the truth for his mother’s sake and the sake of his family’s reputation, a treasure more priceless than gold in the society of Savannah.

The reality had been suicide, Charles knew. A last-ditch effort of a man in tremendous pain, both physically and mentally, to make the hurt go away. Charles still wasn’t sure his father hadn’t been trying to simply blow away the nearly continuous migraines that had crippled him for years, a lingering reminder of a war that had been victorious on paper if not in sheer casualties.

As he approached Kathy, he swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure what he’d say, what he’d do to stop her if she was determined to carry through with killing herself, but he had to try to save her if he could.