Whispers of Love Excerpt

QUICK NOTE: If you enjoy listening to music while reading, Whispers of Love has a playlist. You can find it on my website. Whispers of Love Playlist.

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Cora & Chet’s Home 
December 25 
7:00 p.m.

Amy pulled her legs up on the sofa and leaned a little heavier against the pillows. She chanced a look at the clock and wondered, not for the first time, when she could sneak out. As usual, Christmas Day at the Simpsons had been exhausting.

Gifts, dinner, more gifts, and questions she hadn’t known how to answer.

“Do you want a big wedding, Amy?”

“Have you set a date, Amy?”

“What are your colors?”

“Have you registered yet?”

Questions she should have been excited to talk about. Yet, just thinking about them gave her a headache. And with Eric’s engagement … somehow it had just gotten harder.

Not because of whom he was marrying, but because of what that stood for—something she’d never considered a possibility. She’d been best friends with Brandy Olsen since they were in elementary school. Had known her friend was in love with Eric since they were teens, but never actually saw them together … as a forever.

Now that they were, she wanted to kick herself, as looking at them together had her wondering—how could she have missed that Eric loved Brandy? Was she so wrapped up in her own life she noticed little of what went on around her? Or was it worse? Was it possible that noticing would have forced her to look inward?

When Justin, her oldest brother by nine years, met Shay, it had surprised, but pleased her. He’d dated his high school girlfriend on and off forever, but she’d always known he wasn’t in love with Sasha. His job as an orthopedic surgeon had consumed his every waking hour—until he met Shay—and then everything had changed.

With Lee, eight years older, it had been a case of the prodigal son returning home. What started as being in town for an Agency case had turned into much more when he’d fallen for Amanda. Somehow, it felt inevitable—like he’d finally found where he belonged.

Eric was different. Two years older. A serial dater. A forever friend. But when his walls fell away, his feelings for Brandy were out there—impossible to miss.

But you’re engaged, she reminded herself. It didn’t seem to matter, though, as she couldn’t work up the excitement everyone expected. Especially when she compared her feelings and behavior to her siblings’.

Justin always had a goofy look on his face every time Shay walked into a room. Lee’s expression was full of quiet knowing whenever Amanda was near. But Eric had been the biggest surprise. His was one of wonder, as if he couldn’t believe Brandy really loved him. Could she honestly say that’s what she had with Shawn?

Since that wasn’t a path she was willing to take right then, Amy turned her attention to Ethan and the gift he’d just given Amanda.

“Thank you, Ethan.” Amanda handed Cora a small wrapped box, and then sat back down. “It’s not much, but that’s what I’ve found so far.”

Chet, her grandfather, frowned. “What is it, Cora?”

“When the boys,” Cora began, referring to Justin, Hugh, and Eric, “helped me with the Christmas decorations, I found the clover that’s been in my family for generations. Since I only know part of the story, I asked Amanda to see what she could find.”

While she was talking, she’d been peeling back the paper and removing the lid. Inside was an old piece of paper.

“It’s a letter from Maeve,” Cora murmured in a husky voice.

“Who’s Maeve?” Amy asked. “Another ancestor I’ve never heard of?”

Cora nodded. “Her name was Maeve Faye. Her brother was my mother’s great-great-grandfather.”

“Read it, Cora,” Amanda encouraged. “It answers a few of your questions.”

“I’m getting there.” Cora slipped on her glasses, pressed the page flat, and read.

The photo you sent is of Mystical Waters Canyon. I believe the Canyon’s endurance is tied to the veil and clover I gave you. Legends say if you are quiet and listen, it whispers your true love’s name and waits for hearts to connect.

The town’s Spirit is said to rest within this Canyon, and that its balance is precarious—depending not simply on love itself, but on the right hearts willingness to listen … and wait until it’s time.

Except balance isn’t a straight line—it’s a circle. Luck starts outside and moves within. Then Hope rises and reaches out. Faith grows inside and steadies the world. And then comes Love. Love comes from the outside and changes everything at the center.

Woven within the veil’s lace is the power of protection. For me, I was protected, but became a shell of the person I was … and what I could have become. Now dear brother, it’s up to you and yours—but not through sons. Only through daughters—granddaughters—great-granddaughters and beyond.

Until it’s time, the veil and its magic sleep. When it wakes, and the circle is once again formed—the clover will bloom, the Canyon will awaken, and the whispers will be forever safe.

Your sister,

Maeve Faye 
March 17, 1856

Amy’s breath caught when her grandmother glanced up, and her gaze drifted from Justin to Hugh and then to Eric.

“This is what we spoke of earlier this month. Three new loves—Justin and Shay, Hugh and Brianna, and now Eric and Brandy. Luck nudges, Hope lifts, and Faith awakens. We need Love—it connects.”

Lee frowned. “I feel like I’m being left out.”

“As do I, dear boy,” laughed Chet.

“So, who’s Love?” Amy asked softly? “Another Simpson male?”

Cora inclined her head. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But I’m not so sure,” she hesitated long enough to move her attention from Shay to Brandy and then to Brianna. “What do you think, Bri? Do you believe Love is a Simpson male?”

Bri exchanged a look with Shay and Brandy before reaching into the bag next to her chair.

“I don’t believe a Simpson male is Love.”

When Bri’s gaze caught hers, Amy struggled to stay still. It became even more difficult when Brandy set a small gift on her lap.

“Open it, Amy.”

She ripped off the paper to see they’d given her a Christmas ornament. One that resembled a small scroll. On the scroll were the words, You are Air.

“So I’m Air?” Amy asked with a frown. “Does that mean Shawn is Love?”

“Love is the man who can steady you,” Bri murmured. “Nothing more, and nothing less.”

                                                                                       * * *

Gabe’s Parents’ Home 
Los Angeles, CA 
December 25
8:00 p.m.

Gabe snagged a glass of champagne and leaned against the dining room wall.

“Are you sure you don’t want to say anything?” his older sister, Lucia, asked. “Now’s your chance.”

“What do you propose I say?” He hesitated. “Should I tell Paolo I’ll sic the IRS on him?”

Lucia laughed. “Where did that come from?”

“It’s what Lee did when his sister started dating the man who’s now her fiancé.”

“It might not hurt.”

“You know dad’s already set Paolo straight, don’t you?”

“Just like he did Joey when we got engaged,” Lucia clucked. “I’d never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“What did he say?”

“Told him he’d kill him if he hurt me,” Lucia whispered.

Gabe clenched his molars to keep from saying what he really wanted to say. His father was an artist, and more likely to go after someone with a paintbrush than a gun—but that hadn’t stopped him from trying to throw his weight around.

“Well, hopefully, he didn’t tell Paolo the same thing. I won’t be around long enough to bail him out.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get that far,” Lucia murmured. “But what about you? Dating anyone these days?”

He thought about using Fallon’s name, a woman he’d gone out with a few times in the last couple of months. But since nothing came of it, moved on.

“Not really, why?”

“Because …”

Lucia’s words faded when their father stood in front of the room, and held up his glass.

“Maria and I would like to take this moment to wish the best to Paolo and Elana. May they be as happy as we have been for the last forty-five years. Salute.”

“What do you think mamma said to make him keep the toast so short?” Gabe grinned. “That’s not like him.”

“Who knows?” Lucia hesitated, then took a step closer and changed the subject. “Have you spoken to Theresa?”

“No, should I have?”

Lucia shrugged. “You two were thick as thieves for many years. I always thought…”

Her comment reminded him of something he’d said to Eric the previous April when asked if he ever wished he hadn’t joined The Agency.

“I’d be married to pretty little Theresa with a kid or two, working on an LA task force.”

“People change,” he offered, “and life moves forward.”

Lucia looked at him, and her expression said she was going to interrogate—something she excelled at.

“I need to get some air,” he said before she came at him in full prosecutorial mode. “If anyone asks, you don’t know where I am.”

Gabe left his champagne flute on the table and took the back door to the patio. When he could still hear laughter, he kept walking, only stopping when he reached the far corner of the yard.

He’d left Swan Harbor on December 21, arriving in LA that evening. Since then, his mother had filled every minute possible. Most of the activities involved visiting family members he hadn’t seen in a while. Those had been expected. The constant parade of single women not so much.

His mother had been subtle about it in the beginning. A friend’s daughter at one place, another daughter somewhere else … and he’d bet his last dime, she was the one responsible for Theresa’s arrival.

The back door slammed, and before he turned around, he knew who it was.

“It’s nice to see you again, Gabe.”

The years had been kind to Theresa. She had creamy skin, black hair and eyes, and a voice made for sin.

“You as well.” Gabe hesitated before addressing the elephant in the room. “I heard about your divorce. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Theresa grinned, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It is what it is. The kids and I are fine. Thank you for asking.”

Gabe tipped his chin slightly and moved the conversation in a different direction. “Were you surprised by Paolo and Elana’s engagement?”

“Not really,” she murmured. “My brother’s been crazy about your sister for years.”

“They’re good together.”

“They are,” Theresa agreed. “How’s work? Are you still living in DC?”

As a special agent with The Agency, a shadowy government group, his family knew only what they needed to know about his work. Apparently, they’d shared that information with his ex as well.

“Not any longer. I now work out of Swan Harbor, a small town in Maine.”

Theresa’s brows arched. “You live in a small town? Really? I can’t see that lasting very long.”

A streak of anger zipped through him. But he shoved it aside, realizing she’d made the decision based on who he’d been in the past.

“You’d be surprised how much it suits me,” he put out there. “Swan Harbor is like a temperamental woman, and the gossip line is always buzzing. But it’s peaceful—most of the time. Give me one of Paula’s pastries, a cone from Two Scoops, or a pizza from Pappa’s any day over crowd noise, smog, and bumper to bumper traffic.”

“You like it,” Theresa returned, surprise clear in her tone. “What about love, Gabe?” She stepped closer and placed her hand on his chest. “Surely, there’s something you miss in LA.”

Gabe glanced down at where Theresa’s hand lay. When they’d been together, and she’d touched him, he’d gone warm all over. She’d turned him on, and all he’d wanted to do was find a place to be alone with her. But that had been another life, and he’d been another person.

He squeezed her fingers and took a step away. “Of course, I miss a few things—Mamma’s biscotti, Abuelita’s tamales, and California’s winter weather.”

“But not …?”

Gabe cupped her jaw and brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. “No, not that,” he whispered. “My home is in Swan Harbor.”

“And what about love, Gabe?” Theresa returned.

A corner of Gabe’s mouth curled up, and a peace he hadn’t felt in a while settled inside. “Love will come … when it’s time.”

She frowned. “When it’s time? How can you say something like that?”

He shrugged. “It’s Swan Harbor. All I have to do is listen for the whispers.”

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Cora & Chet’s Home 
Swan Harbor, Maine 
December 25 
11:00 p.m.

“Love is the man who can steady you.”

What did that mean?

“You’re Air,” Bri murmured. “You don’t cling. You drift when you’re needed and ask the questions no one else thinks to ask. You keep things from going stale.”

Amy pressed her hands against her stomach, the statement hitting her wrong. That wasn’t her … was it?

“Amy?” Hearing her grandmother’s voice, had her turning toward the stairs. “I didn’t know you were still here. Is everything okay?”

“Do you agree?” she asked softly.

Cora frowned. “I’m good, but even I need a little more context now and then.”

“Sorry,” Amy blew out a breath. “Do you believe I’m Air?”

“Let’s sit, shall we?”

Amy settled on the sofa not far from her grandmother. She leaned her head against the cushions and glanced up at the ceiling, wishing for answers.

“There, that’s better.” Cora pulled one of the old throws over her lap, and her expression turned serious. “Do I think you’re Air?”

“Yes.”

“What exactly did Bri say?” Cora asked quietly.

“She said that Air in relationships represents freedom, intellect, and that unseen current that keeps love in motion,” Amy recited. “It thrives on communication, curiosity, and change—a reminder that love isn’t supposed to stay still, but meant to breathe.”

“That’s a mouthful, isn’t it?” Cora raised a brow. “What do you think?”

Amy laughed. “I’ve always thought Bri had a bit of fae in her, even before I knew she was a Hathaway.

“Bri listens,” Cora hummed. “That’s not something everyone can do.”

“She’s an amazing listener.” Amy hesitated. “But am I Air? For some reason, Air’s definition leaves a nasty taste in my mouth.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know.” Amy jumped up and rushed across the room. “I don’t know.”

For the longest minute, it was quiet. Amy could see her grandmother’s reflection in the window, watching, waiting…

“Just say it.” She turned to face her grandmother, her arms crossed. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Cora’s gaze lowered to her crossed arms, then slid back up. That little acknowledgement of her stance had Amy relaxing slightly and settling back on the sofa.

“You’re always in motion, Amy,” Cora began, her tone neutral, not judgmental. “Not in a you can’t stay still way. You’re more like a hummingbird—you hesitate, just long enough to make your presence known, and then you grow bored and move on.”

The words hit hard, making it a struggle to get a breath. It wasn’t until the warmth from her grandmother’s hand seeped in that she relaxed.

“Don’t look at it as a negative, Amy,” Cora went on. “While you’re there, you bring joy, love, and light to those around you.”

“You really think so?”

Cora chuckled. “You’ve always had friends, just as you’ve always had boyfriends. But it’s different when you’re engaged, isn’t it?”

Amy brushed her thumb across the small diamond on her left hand and finally looked at her grandmother. Cora’s dark eyes were watchful.

“What do you mean?”

“Where was Shawn today?” Cora asked what she’d run from all day.

“I told you earlier,” Amy replied, trying to hide the defensiveness in her voice. “They were having extended family come in, and he …” She shrugged, not sure where to go next.

“You did say that,” Cora murmured. “However, that’s not the real problem, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

Cora smiled, one of those smiles that said she knew something, but was going to let you figure it out for yourself.

“I think you know. You’re welcome to stay here tonight, honey. But it’s been a long day. I’m going to take a hot bath. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, grandma.”

“Night, dear.” Cora squeezed her fingers once again and left her alone with her thoughts.

“I think you know.”

“Love is the man who can steady you.”

“… you hesitate, just long enough to make your presence known, and then you grow bored and move on.”

“You keep things from going stale.”

As much as she hated admitting it, her grandmother had been right. She did stay until she got bored. It’s why she thought Shawn had been perfect. He was older, settled, sexy, and she loved him. But was she in love with him?

“… a reminder love isn’t meant to stay still, but meant to breathe.”

Her relationship with Shawn had moved through stages, hadn’t it? Giddiness … love … security … a ring, but if that were true, why didn’t she feel deliriously happy?