From Ashes to Honor by Loree Lough

her again, he'd better give the whole Mercy matter a lot of careful thought, because—
    Growling under his breath, he got to his feet. "Get a grip, Finley."
    Fingers wrapped tightly around the polished brass rail surrounding the deck, he faced east and stared out over the peaceful Chesapeake, where the first signs of sunrise were winking in the cloudless black sky. A perfect morning to see the green flash.
    The first time he spotted it, he'd still been knee-deep in reconstruction materials. A nightmare had driven him topside, where he kicked aside sawed-off two-by-fours and spent sandpaper in an attempt to escape the haunting memories. He remembered thinking that one of two things explained what he saw out there on the horizon: Either he'd added sleepwalking to his list of mental maladies, or it had been an optical illusion. By the time he finished knuckling his eyes, it had disappeared, confirming that it had been a figment of his overworked imagination, and he never mentioned a word about it to anyone, not even Bud and Flora.
    Its second appearance drove him to the Internet, where he typed countless words and phrases into his search engine until, at last, he learned about the phenomenon that was a result of scattered air molecules. The emerald flare, he read, appeared only under the right circumstances, and lasted little more than a second.
    Blink, and you'll miss it, he reminded himself.
    He'd no sooner finished the warning than a burst of bottlegreen light sizzled across the horizon and vanished in less than a heartbeat. Hoping to catch sight of a second spark—a far, far rarer occurrence, his research had taught him—Austin held his breath and waited.
    A moment passed, then another, with no repeat performance.Meaning he'd blinked despite his best efforts not to, or God had decided one flash was enough on this sticky morning.Contentment quickly replaced disappointment as Mercy's face drifted into his head. If she'd been there to share the miracle with him, would her perfect brows have risen in sync with the corners of her mouth?
    "Yep, you're losin' your mind," he muttered, facing the pilot house. Besides, hadn't she said that during her childhood, her folks had owned a sailboat? For all he knew, she'd seen the mini-light show dozens of times, and it wouldn't seem like a big deal to her at all.
    Grabbing both mug handles and tucking the Thermos under one arm, he headed down to the galley. It had only been a few days since he'd reconnected with her, yet she popped into his head at the weirdest moments. Like when a songbird rang out a melody, or a soft breeze caressed his face. And without exception, he'd catch himself grinning like a knock-kneed schoolboy.
    Sweaty palms and burning ears might have been normal in study hall, when he'd done his best not to let any of his classmates see him gawking at the prom queen, but at this stage of his life? No way he liked feeling that he'd lost all control over his thoughts and his emotions!
    After washing Bud's mug and the Thermos, he propped both in the drain board and emptied the last of the coffee into his cup. TV flickering, he stretched out on the sofa and turned up the volume to hear Jamie Costello read the early morning news. But not even stories of robberies gone wrong and the threat of a hurricane skimming the Atlantic coast could distract him from thoughts of Mercy.
    When, exactly, had his feelings for her changed from outand-out disdain to borderline affection? And would the feelings last, or were they—as Bud said every time Austin brought a woman home for a tour of the tug—"Just a flash in the pan"?
    The tiny red-blinking light on his answering machine accomplished what the horizon's green flash and the morning news couldn't, and diverted his attention from the former therapist-turned-counselor.
    He wouldn't call Cora now—though he would have bet the boat she hadn't gone to bed—because the boys were light sleepers and needed their sleep a whole lot more than she