First In Series Sampler, Volume 1

Chapter 2

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MORGAN SEAVER LOOKED around her, taking in the sights, and felt a great weight lifted from her shoulders. A weight she wasn"t aware she carried. The sound of children"s laughter faded into the distance as she became focused on the island in front of her.

Morgan always experienced a longing to be by the sea. But right now, her longing was for the island. And she didn"t know why. She felt called in many ways that had nothing to do with the letter she had gotten from her aunt, beseeching her to come and help her with her library full of ancient books in need of desperate repair.

Morgan thought back to the letter and how it had arrived at the most appropriate time. She was in between jobs and getting restless, as she often did. Since she graduated from high school, Morgan had wandered the Atlantic Coast, looking for something, but not knowing what she was looking for. Her skill and talent at restoring old books had earned her a reputation, making the most exclusive libraries and private collectors call for her services. But when the letter from her aunt came, Morgan knew she needed to help. It was more than the family thing; it was a calling she"d been waiting for and hadn"t known.

"Excuse me," called out a childish voice, and Morgan looked up quickly to see a beach ball heading her way. Quickly ducking out of the ball"s path, she laughed with the child and picked up the ball, tossing it back to him.

"Thank you, Miss." The child started to run away but then seemed to remember his manners and turned back to call out to Morgan. She waved her hand in acknowledgment.

The interaction with the child brought her focus back to the here and now, and she looked around the beach area and noticed many children around the same age as the young boy with the beach ball happily playing. Mothers were grouped together, watching their children, and picnics were laid out on the crystal white sands of the beach. It was one of those beautiful days in late April when it wasn"t too hot in the Florida sun. The winter crowd had thinned out as well, with most of the tourists starting to make their way back home to the northern states where the temperatures were finally beginning to climb. This time of year seemed to be a signal for the residents of the small coastal communities along the Florida peninsula that now was their time to take over the beaches.

The ringing of a small bell caught Morgan"s attention, and she looked over towards the main road, noticing several bicyclists. A wide range of bikes made up the group of bikers, and she smiled at the tandem bike with two older people riding together. Her aunt"s letter had warned her that biking, walking, and golf carts were the most common forms of transportation on the island. This suited Morgan just fine. She was anxious to get her car parked permanently and get to work.

"Standing here admiring the view won"t get me there any faster." She laughed to herself. With one final look at the water, Morgan shrugged her shoulders and turned to walk back to the parking area where she had left her car.

Once in the car, she took a quick swig of cold water and then pulled out her aunt"s notes to follow the directions that would lead her to the family home she would now call hers. Morgan didn"t really need the instructions; the way home seemed instinctive. She could visualize the house that had been in the family for generations, and she remembered her time as a child playing in the same sands as the children she"d just left. Her memories were clear, mixed with pictures in her mind of her mother and her aunt spending time with her along the beach.

Quickly glancing at the directions, she put the paper back down next to her and started towards the island. It was a one-way road over the island, and she waited patiently for a car coming across the bridge before she could take her turn to enter Pearl Island. Her car passed over the water as she made her way onto the island, and she experienced a profound sense of homecoming.