Kitabı oku: «First Time in Forever», sayfa 3
CHAPTER TWO
SECRETS AND FEAR. He’d sensed both the moment she’d opened the door, just enough for conversation but not enough for the gesture to be construed as welcome.
He knew when a person had something to hide.
It was in his nature to want to unwrap secrets and take a closer look. He’d tried to switch that side of himself off, but still the instinct to ask questions, to dig and delve, persisted.
There were days when it drove him crazy.
To distract himself, he thought about the woman.
He’d woken her. One glance had told him she was the type who liked to be prepared for everything, and his visit had caught her unprepared. A few strands of silky hair had escaped from the clip on the back of her head and floated around smooth cheeks flushed from sleep. She’d been deliciously flustered, those green eyes focused on him with fierce suspicion.
She’d looked as if she were ready to defend someone or something.
Maybe that body.
Holy hell.
Ryan was proud that he hadn’t swallowed his tongue or stammered. He’d even managed to keep his eyes on her face. Most of the time. Then she’d taken a deep breath that had challenged the buttons on her sober shirt, and those full breasts had risen up as if hopeful of escape. The resulting jolt of sexual hunger had been powerful enough to make him lose the thread of the conversation.
It had been a struggle to keep his mouth from dropping open. Even more of a struggle not to press her back against the wall and prove that, even though they had Wi-Fi, not everything on Puffin Island was civilized.
If he was lucky, she hadn’t guessed how shallow he was.
Picking up the pace, he ran back along the coastal trail, dropped down to the rocky shoreline and then climbed up again, pushing hard until his lungs screamed for air and his muscles ached. No one looking at him now would be able to guess that four years earlier he’d died in a pool of his own blood. It was thanks to the skill of medics he hadn’t stayed dead.
He paused at the top because one of the promises he’d made to himself was to take time to appreciate being alive. Of all the places he’d traveled in his life he considered Penobscot Bay, Maine, to be the most beautiful. Forty miles long and ten miles wide, it stretched from Rockland on the western shore up around the Blue Hill peninsula to Mount Desert. The scenery ranged from wave-soaked rocky islands to lush national park. To a waterman it was heaven, to an outdoorsman a playground. To him, it was home.
On a day like today he wondered why it had taken him so long to come back. Why he’d had to hit the bottom before making that decision. He’d stared into the mouth of hell and might have fallen, had it not been for this place.
He’d swapped stress for sandy shores and rocky tidal pools, the smells and sounds of foreign cities for the crash of the sea and the call of the gulls, food he couldn’t identify and didn’t have time to eat for lobster bakes and hand-cranked ice cream. Instead of chasing the truth, he chased the wind and the tides.
He was smart enough to appreciate the irony of the situation. As a teenager he’d been so desperate to escape he’d fantasized about swimming the bay in the dead of night to get the hell off this island. He’d been trapped, imprisoned by circumstances, his cell mate the heavy burden of responsibility that had clung to him since the death of his parents. To keep himself sane, he’d dreamed about other places and other lands. Most of all he’d dreamed about being anonymous, of living in a place where the only thing people knew about you was what you chose to show them.
Taking a mouthful of water from the bottle in his hand, he watched a schooner glide across the bay, its sails plump with the wind.
On impulse, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Brittany. By his calculations it should be afternoon in Greece.
She answered immediately. “You’re calling to tell me you messed with my friend?”
“I offered the hand of friendship as requested.” He waited a beat. “You didn’t tell me there was a child.”
“It slipped my memory.”
Knowing that nothing slipped her memory, Ryan wondered why she’d chosen not to tell him. “I was starting to think you’d done me a favor. I might have known there would be a catch.”
“A kid isn’t a catch. You treat children like viruses, Ryan. Man up.”
He smiled. “So what’s the story? You said she was in trouble. Am I to expect a visit from an abusive ex-husband?”
“Why does it matter? You’d handle him with one hand behind your back.”
“I like to know what I’m dealing with, that’s all.”
“You’re dealing with my stressed friend. Keep her safe.”
Ryan thought about the fierce look in her eyes. “She’s not exactly embracing my offer of help.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” There was a pause. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t hurt for her to have another layer of protection.”
“It would be helpful to know what I’m protecting her from.”
“She’ll tell you that when she’s ready.” The line crackled, and in the background he could hear Brittany having a conversation with someone called Spyros.
“Who is Spyros? Are you planning on marrying a Greek man and moving to Crete permanently?”
“I’m not marrying anyone. Been there, done that.” Her flippant tone didn’t fool him. He knew how deeply she’d been hurt in the past.
“Listen, Brit—”
“I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon, Ryan.” She broke the connection and he stared out to sea.
People fascinated him. The choices they made and the stories that lay behind those choices.
He knew Brittany’s story. He wanted to know Emily’s, and he thought about it now, his mind sifting through possible scenarios as he watched the waves rolling in.
He could have watched the ocean until the sun set, but he was needed back at the Ocean Club. They had to drain every drop out of the summer business to see them through the long Maine winter. He’d plowed all his money into the business and he was determined to make it pay, and not just because living here required him to earn money.
The island had given to him, and now he was giving back.
He had people depending on him.
Driving would have saved time, but choosing to live on this island had been about saving his sanity, not saving time, so he ran instead.
He ran down to the waterfront, past the old fisherman’s cottage where Alec was no doubt absorbed in his research, and then took a shortcut inland.
The scent of the sea mingled with the smell of freshly mown grass and spring flowers.
This was his favorite time of year, before the flood of summer visitors swelled the population of the island, clogging roads and spreading across the beaches in a sprawl of people and picnic baskets.
Tourism poured welcome funds into the island’s economy, but still there were moments when he resented the intrusion. It was like having guests in your home, and even welcome guests came with an expiration date.
Alec teased him that he couldn’t give up those links to civilization—high-speed internet, phone signal—and it was true, but that didn’t alter the fact that his choice to move here had been driven by a desire to change his life.
He wondered what had brought Emily to this place. There had to be a reason. There was always a reason.
She had a city look about her. Pale and pinched.
On Puffin Island doors swung open for visitors.
Hers had almost closed in his face.
He took a detour to the school, ran in through the gates and pressed the buzzer. “It’s Ryan.”
The door opened, and he strode through the cheerful foyer, past walls lined with brightly colored artwork.
His sister bounced out of the classroom, a vision of curls and color. Her dress sense had always been eclectic, and today she’d chosen an eye-popping combination of red and purple. She claimed that color made her happy, but Ryan knew she just had a happy disposition. She saw light where others saw dark and found exciting possibilities in small, daily tasks that to others appeared boring.
If he’d had to pick the perfect teacher for first graders, he would have picked Rachel.
Looking at her, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t entirely screwed up her childhood.
“Something wrong?” The concern in her eyes made him wonder when his family was going to stop worrying about him.
He was used to being the one in the role of protector, and the reversal made him uncomfortable. Presumably this was the price he paid for frightening them to death.
“Can’t a man drop in to say hello to his baby sister? Why does something have to be wrong?”
“Because school starts in less than thirty minutes, you’re sweaty and you only ever come and see me when you want something or you want to lecture me.”
“That’s harsh.”
“It’s true. And if you call me your ‘baby sister’ again, something will be wrong.”
He looked at those bouncy curls and remembered spending impatient minutes trying to drag a hairbrush through the tangles when she was young. On more than one occasion he’d had to choose between dealing with the hair and being late for school, so he’d given up and bunched it back in a ribbon. It was lucky for him the kids at school hadn’t known about his stock of ribbons.
Eventually she’d learned to do it for herself, but not before he’d learned far more than he ever wanted to know about braids and bows and girls’ hair.
“You are my baby sister. And you still look as if you should be sitting in class, not teaching it.”
She gave him the stare she used to silence overexcited children. “Not funny, Ryan. It was even less funny when you made the same joke last week when I was on a date with Jared Peters.”
“I wanted to shake him up a little. The guy has a reputation.”
“That’s why I’m dating him.”
Ryan reined in the urge to seek out Jared Peters and make sure he couldn’t walk to his next date with Rachel. “That guy is all about having a good time and nothing else.”
“Oh, please, and you’re not?”
“He’s too old for you.”
“He’s the same age as you.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“Is there some reason I shouldn’t have a good time as well or is this a ‘man only’ thing? Last time I checked, women were allowed to have orgasms.”
Ryan swore under his breath and ran his hand over his face. “I can’t believe you used that word in this classroom. You look so wholesome.”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
“I’m looking out for you.” For some reason an image of Emily’s anxious face was wedged in his brain. She’d looked wholesome, too. And out of her depth. “That’s my job.”
“When I was four years old, maybe, but I’m all grown up. Your job is to let me make my own choices and live my life the way I want to live it.”
Ryan wondered how parents did it. Wondered how they stood back and let their kids walk slap into a big mistake without trying to cushion it. “I can still step into the parent role when I need to.”
She grinned. “Okay, Daddy.”
“Don’t even joke about it.”
“We both know that raising us, me in particular, was the equivalent of being injected with a lifelong contraceptive.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” It had been exactly that bad, to the point where there had never been a time in his life when he hadn’t carried condoms. “I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Do you think you have a monopoly on that feeling? Do you think I enjoyed seeing you leave for all those dangerous places? It killed me, Ryan. Every time you left I wanted to beg you not to go, and then when I got that phone call—” Her voice broke. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Hey—” He frowned, unsettled by the emotion in her voice. “I’m still here.”
“I know. And I love you. But you don’t get to tell me how to live my life any more than I get to tell you how to live yours. You’re my brother, not my keeper.”
He held up his hands. “You’re right and I’m wrong. You want to date Jared, then go ahead.” But he made a mental note to have a deep and meaningful conversation with Jared next time he saw him.
Not that he had anything against him. Jared was a skilled boat builder who was also a paramedic. Because of the rural nature of the community, most of the emergency care provision came from trained volunteers, and they played a vital role in island life.
“I don’t need your permission, Ryan.” There was a glint in her eyes. “Do I interfere with your love life? Do I tell you it’s time you stopped thinking a relationship is all about sex and settled down? No, I don’t. I love you, and I believe that eventually you’ll figure out for yourself what you really want.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You think I don’t know what I want?”
She gave him a pointed look. “I have no comment on the way you live your life.”
“Point taken.”
Relenting, she stood on tiptoe and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re alive. I’m even glad you’re living here, but I look out for myself.”
She’d been demonstrative and affectionate as a toddler, and she hadn’t changed. She held nothing back. She didn’t guard herself or search for the truth behind the surface people presented. She took them at face value. She trusted. She gave love freely and asked for nothing in return.
It frightened the shit out of him.
“Just don’t say ‘I love you’ to Jared. Those words either encourage a guy to take advantage, or they send him running.”
“You mean send you running. Not all men are like you.”
“Hey, I used to cut up your food and walk you to school. You can’t blame me for being protective.”
“I’m protective, too. How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s fine.” Dismissing it, he glanced at the walls of her classroom, pasted with the colorful artwork. “There’s a woman staying in Brittany’s cottage. I wondered if you knew anything about her.”
“Ah, so now we’re getting to the reason for the visit. A woman.” There was a gleam of interest in her eyes. “Why would I know anything?”
“Because there’s a child.” Ryan thought about the little face he’d seen peeping around the filmy white curtains in the upstairs bedroom. Was the child the reason Emily hadn’t opened the door fully? That didn’t make sense to him. In his experience children made people eager to connect, especially when they were new to a place. “I thought maybe you had a new pupil starting.”
“Not before summer. There’s just two weeks of school left.” Rachel turned away to finish preparing for her lesson. “Why would you be interested in a woman with a child? We both know you’ve had enough of child rearing, and yes, I might just feel a tiny bit guilty about that, given that I’m the reason you can’t stand the thought of settling down and having kids.”
“Not true.”
“Yes, it is. You were stuck looking after three little kids when you were a teenager. You couldn’t wait to get away.”
“Not because I didn’t love you.”
“I know that. All I’m saying is that I’m the reason you run from the idea of settling down. When we lost Mom and Dad, you had to do the serious stuff without any of the fun, so now you’re having the fun. It’s part of the reason you used to keep your bag packed, so you could run at a moment’s notice.”
He looked at her, his sweet-natured sister who had been orphaned at such a young age. “Hey, I’ve been living here for four years. That’s stability.”
She placed a large sheet of paper on the center of each low table. “There are still times I wonder if one day I’m going to wake up and find you gone. Not that it would matter if that’s what you wanted,” she said quickly. “You paid your dues.”
He discovered that guilt could feel like sandpaper on a raw wound. “I didn’t ‘pay’ anything. I did what needed to be done and I was happy to do it.” If you ignored all the times he hadn’t been happy and had complained like hell at the world for putting him in that situation. “And I’m not going anywhere. How could I after all the effort you put into saving me? I owe you.”
“No one owes anyone anything, Ryan. We’re a family. We help each other when we’re in trouble. That’s what family does. You taught me that.” She walked across the classroom and picked up a bucket of seashells.
Even as a very young child she’d loved everything about the sea.
He’d spent hours with her on the beach, hunting for sea glass and building castles out of sand.
Ryan had always envied her calm contentment, a direct contrast to his own restless energy and burning desire to escape.
“What are you doing with those?”
“We’re making a collage using things we found from the seashore on our trip last week. I still don’t understand why you’d be interested in a woman renting the cottage, especially if there’s a child in tow.” She added paints and glue to each table. “Why the mystery?”
The mystery was that she’d been scared.
“I’m curious.”
She flicked him a look. “Curiosity killed the cat, Ryan.”
“If you can’t come up with something more original than that, then there is no hope for the younger generation.”
But he understood the reason for the tension. She was worried this wouldn’t be enough for him. That he’d wake up one morning and decide to go back to his old life.
Since she’d been the one to clear up the mess last time, he couldn’t blame her for hoping that didn’t happen.
“Miss Cooper?” A small voice came from the doorway, and Ryan turned to see the Butler twins, Summer and Harry, hovering with their mother. Lisa Butler had moved to Puffin Island the summer before and had taken over the ice cream parlor, Summer Scoop, near the harbor.
While his sister worked her magic on two excited children, Ryan smiled at Lisa. “Gearing up for the summer rush? How is everything?”
“Everything is good.” Her expression told him everything was far from good, and instantly he wanted to know why. He couldn’t help himself. Some might have said it was his passion, but he knew it was closer to an addiction, this need to find the truth buried beneath the surface. He wanted to know who, what, why, when. In this case he suspected the “what” was the state of the business. After a harsh Maine winter when the mention of ice cream was a joke not a temptation, Summer Scoop had to be suffering. The business had been limping along for years before Lisa Butler had decided to sink her life savings into it.
“I’ll leave you to mold young minds, Miss Cooper.” He nodded to his sister. “Talk to you later.”
And in the meantime he was going to find out more about the woman in Castaway Cottage.
“HAS THE MAN GONE?”
“He’s gone.” But his face was still in her head. Remembering the encounter, Emily felt heat rush through her body. “I’m sorry he woke you.”
“He didn’t.” Those pale green eyes were ringed by tiredness, and Juliet’s long hair fell in tangled curls of gold past narrow shoulders.
Emily looked for signs of tears, but there were none.
The girl seemed remote. Self-contained.
That was good, wasn’t it?
She tried to ignore the simmer of unease in her belly that told her it wasn’t good.
“Was the bed uncomfortable?” Emily had tucked the girl up in Brittany’s old room the night before, covered with the patchwork quilt.
“It was noisy.”
“That’s the sea. You can sleep in a different room tonight if you like.”
“Can I sleep with you?”
Emily swallowed. “Sure.”
The little girl stood, staring up at the shelf in the kitchen. “Why are there jewels in a jar?”
“It’s sea glass.” Emily reached and picked up the jar. “It washes up on the beach. Sometimes it gets trapped in the pebbles and rocks. Kathleen used to collect it. Every time she went to the beach she came back with her pockets stuffed. She liked the colors, the fact that each piece has its own story.” Relieved to have something to take her mind of Ryan Cooper, Emily handed Juliet the jar and watched as the girl turned it in her hands, studying each piece of glass closely, absorbed by color and shape.
“It’s like a rainbow in a bottle.”
“Kathleen kept it by the window so it caught the sunlight. She called it treasure.”
“Does she live here?”
“Not anymore. She died a few years ago.” Emily wondered if she should have used a different choice of words. Maybe she should have talked vaguely about heaven and stars in the sky. “She left this cottage to my friend, and sometimes, when one of us has a problem, we come here.”
“Do you have a problem?”
Looking down at the problem, Emily felt compassion mingle with panic.
She didn’t know anything about children, but she knew how it felt to have something you loved snatched from you. She knew how it felt to learn, at a far too young age, that life was cruel and unpredictable. That it could take as quickly as it gave, and with no warning.
“No. There’s no problem now that we’re here.”
“Was she your family?”
“Kathleen? No. She was my friend’s grandmother, but she was like a grandmother to me, too.” And then she remembered “grandmother” probably meant nothing to a child whose short life had been spent among people paid to care for her and keep her away from a prying world. “Sometimes the people who are closest to you aren’t the ones you’re related to.”
Let’s make a promise. When one of us is in trouble, the others help, no questions.
The little girl held the jar to her chest. “You’re my family.”
“That’s right.” Her stomach lurched. Panic rose like the sea at high tide, swamping the deep fissures created by a lifetime of insecurities. She didn’t want that responsibility. She’d never wanted it. “Why don’t we explore the house? It was dark when we arrived last night.”
Nestled in the curve of Shell Bay, Castaway Cottage had ocean views from all the front rooms. It was easy to see why Kathleen had never wanted to leave, despite the relative isolation and the long winters. She’d made sure that whatever the weather, there was warmth in the house. Wooden beams and hardwood floors formed a backdrop for furniture carefully chosen to reflect a nautical theme. A striped wingbacked chair, a textured rug, framed photos of the seabirds that nested around the rocky coast.
Still holding the jar, Juliet went straight to the window and clambered onto a chair. “Can we go to the beach?”
Emily felt a pressure in her chest.
Soon, she’d have to work out how she was going to handle that inevitable request, but she didn’t have the energy for it now. “We need to settle in first. I have to unload our cases and unpack.”
“I’m hungry.”
Emily, whose usual caffeine-infused breakfast came in the form of strong coffee, realized she hadn’t given any thought to feeding the girl. “I packed a few things in the car, but this afternoon we’re going to need to go to the harbor and pick up some food.”
Which presented her with another problem.
“I was thinking—” They walked back into the kitchen, and Emily opened cupboards, hunting for food that Brittany might have left on her last visit. “Juliet is a pretty name, but how would you feel about being called something else?”
“Juliet is from Shakespeare.”
“I know, but—” Everyone else knows, too. “Do you have another name? I’m Emily Jane.”
“I’m Juliet Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth. How about Lizzy? That’s pretty.”
“Why do I need a different name? So the men with cameras don’t find me?”
Emily favored honesty and saw no reason to alter that approach in this instance. “Yes.” She opened a cupboard and pulled out a bowl in a pretty shade of cornflower blue. “That’s part of the reason. I don’t want people asking you questions. It will be like a game.”
“I used to play games with Mellie.”
“Mellie?”
“She cooks. Sometimes she looks after me when Paula is in the bedroom kissing her boyfriend.”
“P—what? Who is Paula?”
“She’s one of my nannies.”
One of them? Still, at least Lana had arranged child care, which was more than their mother ever had. “So Paula looked after you?”
“Yes. And sometimes we watched my mom on TV.” Lizzy was still holding the jar clutched against her chest. “Paula says people take pictures because she was famous and beautiful.”
“Yes, she was.”
People will pay money to see my face. You’ll never be as pretty as me, and that’s why people don’t love you.
She tried to wipe the memory from her mind. “No one will take pictures of you here. People are friendly.”
That much was true. She, Skylar and Brittany had spent plenty of happy evenings laughing and drinking in the Shipwreck Inn, and Brittany was well-known and loved on the island. Too well known.
She tried to remember whether her friend had ever mentioned a Ryan Cooper.
She was certain she hadn’t met him before.
His wasn’t a face that was easy to forget.
That face was in her head as she pulled open cupboards, looking through tins and dried pasta that Brittany left as emergency food. She found cereal, tipped it into the bowl along with the milk she’d bought and settled the child at the table. “We’ll finish unpacking and then explore the island.” Unpacking wasn’t going to take long. Should she be depressed that everything she valued from her old life had fit into two small suitcases? A few clothes and her precious first editions. “We can have lunch by the harbor. You can pick anything you like from the menu. It will be fun.”
“Can I bring my bear?”
Emily looked at the battered bear and decided its chances of surviving the trip were slim. There was a rip in its neck, and it had lost an eye. “Why don’t we leave him here? We don’t want to lose him.” Or parts of him.
“I want him to come.”
Concerned that half the bear might fall into the harbor, Emily was tempted to argue, but she was more afraid of doing something that might destabilize an already fragile situation. “We’ll take the bear.”
“Can I wear my fairy wings?”
Because fairy wings weren’t conspicuous at all. She closed her eyes and told herself that no one would be looking for the child of a Hollywood actress on an island off the coast of Maine. And if Skylar was right, then Lizzy wouldn’t be the only six-year-old wearing fairy wings. “If that’s what you want.” She stiffened as the child slid off her chair and walked across to her.
A small hand slid into hers. “Will they find us?”
The feel of that hand made the pressure in her chest worsen. “No.” She croaked out the word. “We’re safe here.”
Or at least, she hoped they were.
Picking up her phone, she found Brittany’s name in her contacts and sent a text.
Who is Ryan Cooper?
BECAUSE IT WAS still early in the summer, she managed to park near the harbor. The busy working waterfront was a popular spot for tourists keen to experience all Puffin Island had to offer. Lobster boats, the lifeblood of the local community, bobbed alongside yachts, and fishermen rubbed shoulders with locals, tourists and sailing enthusiasts. The ferry that connected the island to the mainland ran three times a day when weather permitted. John Harris, the harbormaster, had been in charge of the service for as long as anyone could remember, terrifying everyone with his white shock of hair and heavy eyebrows.
From a distance, Emily recognized Dave Brown, who had been lobstering the waters around Puffin Island for three decades. She remembered standing with her friends, watching as he’d brought in the catch of the day, standing a safe distance from the deep waters of the harbor while Brittany and Kathleen had bought fish straight from the boat. They’d cooked it fresh and eaten it in the garden with butter dripping down chins and eager fingers.
“Can I see the boats?” Curious, Lizzy wandered toward the edge of the harbor, and Emily grabbed her shoulder and hauled her back.
Her heart was thudding and her palms were clammy. Why had she parked by the harbor? She should have found a side street and stayed as far from the water as possible.
John Harris walked across to them, a frown turning his eyebrows into a single shaggy line. “Careful. The water is deep here.”
While Emily waited for her heart to slow down, she kept a grip on Lizzy. Brittany had once confessed the harbormaster had terrified her as a child, and Emily and Skylar had laughed, both unable to imagine Brittany being terrified of anything.
Lizzy didn’t seem to share that fear. She looked from him to the ferry that was just leaving the harbor. “Is that the same ferry we came on last night?”
“It’s the same. The Captain Hook.”
“Like in Peter Pan?”
John Harris studied the child. “It’s named for Dan Hook who donated the money for a ferry service fifty years ago. Is this your first visit to Puffin Island?”
“They’re Brittany’s friends.” The male voice came from behind her, and Emily turned to find Ryan standing there. He nodded to John. “Busy ferry this morning.”
“Full load. We’re adding an extra crossing from next week as the summer season heats up.” The introduction seemed to soften John Harris’s mood a little because he nodded to Lizzy. “So, you’re staying in Castaway Cottage. Best view on the island. Be careful by the water.” He strode off, and Ryan shook his head.
“Don’t let him scare you. A kid fell in once, and he’s been nervous ever since. Summer is a busy time for him. So, you found your way to the harbor and Main Street. This is the closest thing we have to civilization. Can I direct you anywhere?”
He’d showered and changed since their encounter earlier that morning. He wore a pair of light-colored trousers and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The addition of tailoring did nothing to disguise his powerful build.
Skylar would have observed that he was well put together.
Brittany would have described him as “smoking hot.”
Emily found him unsettling. Not because he was so sure of himself—she was used to confident men, so that wasn’t the reason—and not even because of the unexpected scorch of sexual awareness, although that was new to her. No, what frightened her was that those dark eyes seemed to see right through the invisible aura Neil had claimed made her unapproachable.
