Forever Love on Fireweed Island (Island County Book 4) Read online

  Copyright © 2016 Karice Bolton

  ISBN-10:0-9965402-9-6

  ISBN-13:978-0-9965402-9-2

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any printed or electronic form, or stored in an unauthorized retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, incidents, and events either are the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Image Copyright DepositPhotos

  Cover Design: © Kotkoa Image ID: 54786803

  © Subbotina Image ID: 36962813

  ©EpicStockMedia Image ID: 59846611

  Contact the Author

  To contact the author, please visit her online at http://www.karicebolton.com or via

  Twitter/Facebook/Pinterest @KariceBolton.

  If you’d like to be included on her mailing list to receive FREE exclusive novellas, and to find out about

  new releases, click here or go to Karice Bolton’s website

  You can also text KariceBooks to 313131 to receive a message from her on release days!

  Dedication

  To the amazing readers of Beyond Love and Island County. Thank you.

  You have made these stories come to life. I’m forever grateful to you all.

  Always to my wonderful husband, beautiful mom, family and friends. Love you all!

  BOOKS BY KARICE BOLTON

  ISLAND COUNTY SERIES

  FINDING LOVE IN FORGOTTEN COVE

  LOVE REDONE IN HIDDEN HARBOR

  TANGLED LOVE ON PELICAN POINT

  FOREVER LOVE ON FIREWEED ISLAND

  TBA (Nick’s story) – COMING SUMMER 2016

  BEYOND LOVE SERIES

  BEYOND CONTROL

  BEYOND DOUBT

  BEYOND REASON

  BEYOND INTENT

  BEYOND CHANCE

  BEYOND PROMISE

  BEYOND the MISTLETOE

  LUKE FLETCHER SERIES

  HIDDEN SINS

  BURIED SINS

  REDEMPTION

  MIA – JULY 2016

  THE WITCH AVENUE SERIES

  LONELY SOULS

  ALTERED SOULS

  RELEASED SOULS

  SHATTERED SOULS

  THE WATCHERS TRILOGY

  AWAKENING

  LEGIONS

  CATACLYSM

  TAKEN NOVELLA (A Watchers Prequel)

  WHISPER SERIES

  WHISPERS IN THE WOODS: THE CAMP

  WHISPERS ON CAMPUS: THE DORM

  AFTERWORLD SERIES

  RecruitZ

  AlibiZ

  UprisingZ–Coming June

  Dear Readers,

  Many thanks for reading the Island County Series and Forever Love. It means a lot that you have allowed my stories to become a part of your reading world. I hope you enjoy the fourth book in the Island County Series. I really had fun writing Jewels’ story, and I’m thrilled to share it with you. The focus on family and friendship continues to weave through this series and it often goes in unexpected places for me. Whether it’s looking up the precarious places dogs can call home on You Tube to checking in on Sophie, Natty, and Mason, Forever Love covered a lot of ground. You’ll know what scene I’m talking about once you read about Coco. I hope the joy I feel while writing this series comes through as you read Forever Love.

  I’m looking forward to sharing Nick’s story this summer. Be sure to sign up for my newsletter so you don’t miss out on Fireweed’s most determined bachelor. I think he finally met his match.

  Happy Reading,

  Karice

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Beyond Control Excerpt

  Contact Karice

  Acknowledgments

  Letter to Readers

  Moving back to Fireweed Island was the best thing I’d ever done. Well, next to divorcing Rich—my ex-husband and all-around nasty man—but no point in thinking about him and getting riled up. I’d spent far too many sleepless nights over that guy. I had more important things to do, like finish reading the last chapter of the book I’d been clutching all morning.

  I pulled out the patio chair and sank into the cushion, feeling the warm morning sunlight kiss my skin as I sipped my coffee. I relished this kind of morning. Relaxation washed over me, coffee energized me, and words were at the ready to coat my soul, all before starting my day at the library.

  I took in a deep breath and opened the book, preparing to say a final goodbye to the characters and story I’d fallen in love with over the last few days. I could do this. I could let them all go and begin again with another.

  As my finger curled over the first page of the last chapter, a blood-curdling scream shot over my fence from my neighbor, Mrs. Coleville. I jumped from the chair, spilling scalding coffee on my lap while scrambling to the gate to get to my front yard.

  Before popping up the latch on the gate, I grabbed a shovel to arm myself for what might await me on the other side. As I thrust open the gate with a monstrous heave, the silence of the morning was held hostage by more screams. I searched every crevice of Mrs. Coleville’s yard. Her tidy pink roses lined the front of her house and daisies quivered in the flowerbed a few feet away, but all was clear.

  I slinked along the rhododendrons at a cautious pace—my heart hammering in my chest with uncertainty—knowing only a shrub separated me from whatever monster was causing Mrs. Coleville’s distress.

  But her front yard was empty.

  I scanned the windows and front door of her house—all appeared tightly locked—when another sob erupted from the far side of the house. I took off running with my shovel to find Mrs. Coleville staring into a large maple tree, her hands waving frantically into the air.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, my fingers throbbing from gripping the handle so tightly.

  “Oh, Jewels. It was awful. Just awful.” Her eyes didn’t sway from the tree. “Coco was doing her business in the backyard, and out of nowhere, a coyote came and snatched her. I screamed, jumped off the deck, and ran toward the coyote. By the grace of God, the coyote dropped Coco in the front yard, but Coco ran up the tree. I’m sure she’s hurt, but she won’t come down.”

  “Where’d the coyote go?” I asked nervously, glancing behind me.

  “Took off toward the gully.”

  I nodded and pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and immediately wished I hadn’t moved the fabric against my skin. Apparently, the adrenaline flooding my veins had hidden how painful my coffee burns were. The sting of freshly burned skin roared to life as I attempted to spot Coco in the tree.

  “I’ll call the fire department,” I assured her, patting her tiny shoulders with my left hand while I scrolled through my address book with my right. I didn’t
think this warranted a 9-1-1 call, but maybe it did. In my world, it did. We had an eight-pound Coco to save.

  “Where is she?” I bent over, still trying to spot her in the tree.

  “She’s on the far branch. The tip of her ear is sticking out over the top of that maple leaf,” Mrs. Coleville said, pointing frantically.

  I followed her finger and spotted a tuft of Coco’s fur just as the Fire Department answered.

  “Hello, we have a Yorkie stuck in a maple tree. She was attacked by a coyote, and we’re not sure how badly she’s injured, but we have no safe way to get her out of the tree. My ladder won’t reach. Is that something you can help with?”

  I listened carefully to the department’s instructions as Mrs. Coleville wandered closer to the tree and stretched her hands out toward the limb, but the ball of fur wasn’t budging. I hung up the phone and saw a twitch of the leaf.

  “Coco, stay,” I called into the quivering leaves.

  “I didn’t teach her that command,” Mrs. Coleville said.

  “They said the call is a low priority, and they’re already on a high-priority call at the far end of the island,” I relayed. “They don’t generally handle cat-in-the-tree calls very often, but since she might be injured, they’re willing to give it a go. The volunteer station down south might be able to come our way, but there’s no guarantee.”

  Coco’s whimper sounded above, tears filled Mrs. Coleville’s eyes, and I knew things were about to get really tricky, really fast.

  “Coco is no feline. She’s a mighty Yorkie, and she could be injured. By the time they get here, it could be too late.” She sniffled.

  I knew what I had to do. I was Coco’s only hope, but I was also deathly afraid of heights ever since I tumbled out of a tree fort at the age of eight. The thought of heaving myself into the canopy above made my knees wiggle and jiggle like raspberry J-E-L-L-O.

  But I had to do it.

  “I’ll go get my ladder. Don’t take your eyes off Coco.”

  “Your ladder won’t reach.” She shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “And she might jump.”

  “We’ll come up with something. If we want to get to her in a timely manner, it’s our only option.” I handed her my phone, ready and waiting to dial the vet. All she had to do was push the button. “Call Island Vet and let them know what to expect.”

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded weak and defeated.

  I must not be displaying the air of confidence I’d hoped, which wasn’t too unusual. I ran to my garage and pressed in the code, willing the door to roll up faster.

  “Hurry,” Mrs. Coleville hollered. “The leaf is shaking.”

  And so were my knees.

  I lifted the ladder off the hooks with a grunt. The metal scraped on the garage floor with every step forward as I hauled it outside. This definitely wouldn’t be tall enough to reach Coco, but it was all I had. Carrying the ladder across my yard and over to hers took less than a minute, but by the time I arrived, Coco was letting out horrified barks and yips.

  Disaster was about to strike. I could feel the tension in the air with each quiver of the giant maple leaf surrounding Coco.

  “Can you grab some towels?” I asked calmly, not feeling an ounce of it as I gauged where best to lean the ladder. Wherever I propped it, Coco might get spooked into jumping, and that would be the end of Coco. The weight of Mrs. Coleville’s world balanced on my too-slender shoulders and my nearly buckling knees.

  She nodded and headed toward the front door. The leaf fluttered, and I focused on the surrounding area, searching for evidence of blood—or anything, really—to gauge Coco’s injuries. She’d quieted some, so I didn’t want to circle around the tree for fear I’d scare her, and she’d fall off the limb. She wasn’t a cat. There would be no springing back to life after that tumble.

  As I waited for Mrs. Coleville, my mind drifted to BlznBookie. I wondered what he’d do in this situation. He always seemed adventurous and filled to the brim with good ideas and fixes. Whether he was rock climbing in Arizona or hiking the Pacific Coast trail, he had a solution for whatever problem arose. I should know, because I stalked his blog daily.

  BlznBookie also happened to be a faceless being who I’d only met through my book blog, so the fact that he even popped into my head showed what a bizarre turn of events my social life had become since my divorce.

  But seriously, I wondered what he’d do in this situation.

  Mrs. Coleville came hurrying back outside and stood next to me with a stack of towels taller than she was.

  I kept secretly hoping that sirens would sound in the distance and I wouldn’t have to tangle myself in the limbs and leaves.

  “I’m going to prop the ladder on this side of the tree and climb onto the limb across from Coco. It looks pretty solid, and I should be able to reach her from there, but if she gets scared and jumps, I want you standing below, ready to catch her.”

  “I always let Coco out on a leash. This is my fault . . . completely my fault. I never should have let her out this morning without me,” she mumbled into the towels.

  “It’s nobody’s fault,” I said, staring at the tree and praying the fire department would show up in the next thirty seconds. This Yorkie was everything to Mrs. Coleville, and if she didn’t make it . . . “We need to stay focused on the task at hand, which is to get Coco out of the tree and to the vet.”

  She nodded, and I grabbed a towel from her. My plan to snatch Coco was to do a sneaky lean-in toward the dog, followed by a graceful drape of the towel, ending the ordeal with a silent snag of the eight-pounder once I got close enough to her.

  There were a lot of holes in this plan.

  “Okay, let’s bring Coco down to safety,” I said.

  Mrs. Coleville slowly walked over to where Coco sat in the tree, and I moved my ladder quietly, propping it in position. She scattered most of the towels on the ground around her and kept one over her shoulder. I put my foot on the first step and took in a deep breath before quickly climbing each rung.

  The ladder bounced with each step, letting a squeak into the silent air, but I reached the top in seconds. Coco’s yips had turned into panting, and my stomach clenched. With all my heart, I hoped Coco wasn’t badly injured, but it didn’t sound good.

  I adjusted the towel over my shoulders and climbed over to the sturdy limb that suddenly didn’t seem so sturdy. I was in the thick of the rescue, with branches poking my scalp and leaves tangling my hair. I glanced down, and my palms immediately got sweaty.

  This had been a horrible idea.

  Forget Coco—I doubted I’d even survive a fall from this height. I was way higher than the tree fort from twenty-plus years ago, which only gifted me with a broken arm.

  This would be a career ender. There would be no Jewels to issue library cards, organize author events, or review my favorite books of the week on my blog, Island Reads.

  Slowly shifting my weight, I straddled the limb and began inching my way toward the branch Coco had made her home. I could no longer see Coco’s ear, only the twitch of her tail.

  I glanced down again and let out a silent gasp. The strength of my core vanished, turning me into a squishy sponge, my arms barely able to haul my weight forward. Fear pummeled through me.

  With every scoot forward, I felt like a spineless amoeba waiting to become one with the earth.

  “You doing okay up there?” Mrs. Coleville asked in a whisper that was more like a shout.

  Even though I had been using both hands to clutch onto my one and only lifeline, I freed a hand and flashed a thumbs-up sign and quickly reattached my hand to my safety branch. I didn’t need her collapsing from a heart attack on top of everything else.

  Coco’s panting stopped, and my heart froze.

  Did she stop breathing?

  Was she okay?

  Well, “okay” was probably a relative term at this point. She was a dog trapped in a tree after being carted around by a coyote. If I thought my morning was going
bad, Coco’s took the cake.

  By the time I reached the center of the moss-covered branch, I was about a foot away, clutching the limb—no longer able to sit upright—as terror took over.

  Apparently, Coco had also been afflicted with the same paralyzing fear, because she’d sprawled herself lengthwise and teetered precariously on the branch. Her head was pointed in the opposite direction, but my eyes focused on her tiny ribcage, hoping I’d spot movement. There wasn’t a speck of blood on her, but I also didn’t see her tiny chest heave in the slightest.

  The strength of a coyote’s jaw could be deadly against an eight-pound Yorkie. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath as I pushed myself up and away, no longer able to hug my safe place. Twigs jabbed my skin, and the burn from the coffee incident still seared my stomach and thighs.

  I thought about the irony of the situation. For years, I’d joked about the woman who spilled coffee on her lap and sued, and here I was, feeling every bit of that pain from too-hot coffee.

  This really wasn’t the best way to begin my week. I forced my eyes open, pulled the towel from my shoulders, and readied myself.

  The limb next to me shook from a slight breeze that began mustering its strength, and it felt like the world was dropping out from underneath me. It was now or never. With a quick, fluid motion, I curled the towel around Coco and brought her into my arms. Her brown eyes fluttered to mine, and I quickly checked her tiny body for wounds while simultaneously squeezing the limb with my legs with a strength I didn’t know my thigh muscles knew about. I nestled her back into my chest and hugged her, uncertain of what to do next.

  “Coco doesn’t seem to have any teeth marks or puncture wounds,” I called down. “No blood.”

  “The vet is waiting for her.”

  “Okay, I’m figuring out how to get down.” I hadn’t thought that far ahead. My motto had been one step at a time because I probably didn’t think I’d get this far.