CHAPTER THREE
RYAN ORDERED AT the bar and exchanged a few words with Kirsti who ran the Ocean Club and had made herself indispensable in the short time she’d been with them.
“Who is she?” Kirsti passed the order through to the kitchen and then glanced across to the deck, where tables had views across the bay. “She’s pretty. Not in an obvious way, but in an interesting way. A little too innocent-looking for you, but it’s time you mended your wicked ways, so that could be good. I think she could be The One.”
Kirsti was obsessed with finding The One. It drove some people crazy. It made Ryan smile.
“It’s a big world out there. If there really was only one person for everyone, we’d all be single.”
“You are single. And you’re mixing up sex with relationships.” She selected a tall blue glass from the shelf. “A common mistake, particularly among the male sex, and the reason so many partnerships fail. You don’t only need someone who can rock your body, you need someone who can rock your mind.”
Ryan was fairly sure Emily would be able to do both, but Kirsti didn’t need encouragement, so he kept that thought to himself. “Sometimes sex is the relationship.”
“With you, sex is always the relationship. I bet you slap a page of terms and conditions in front of every woman you date.”
“I don’t, but it’s a good idea. I’ll run it past my lawyer.”
She gave him a reproving look. “You’re not funny.”
“I’m hilarious. You just don’t share my sense of humor.”
“Does anyone? But this is my point! You need someone who is going to hold your attention. Your eye might be caught by a doubleD cup, but your cynical heart will be caught by something more complex.”
He glanced across at Emily’s eye-popping curves. “My attention is caught. There’s just one thing wrong. One thing that makes me completely sure she’s not The One.”
“Don’t tell me—the child.” With a sigh, Kirsti whipped up chocolate milk, added a straw and put the glass on the tray. “What do you have against children?”
“Nothing. I like children. I just don’t want to be responsible for one.”
“A bit of responsibility would do you good. Who is she, anyway?”
He knew all about responsibility, the sort that made you sweat and kept you awake at night. But Kirsti wasn’t an islander, so she wouldn’t know the details of his past.
“Friend of Brittany’s. She’s staying in Castaway Cottage.”
“I love that place. The garden is like something from a fairy tale.” Her eyes narrowed. “I think you might marry her.”
“Jesus, Kirsti, keep your voice down.” He was torn between exasperation and amusement. “For all you know, she’s already married.”
“She isn’t. And the child isn’t hers.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“The way she behaves. She isn’t comfortable. It’s as if this whole thing is new to her, as if they barely know each other and she isn’t quite sure what her role is.”
Ryan thought about the text Brittany had sent.
She’s in trouble.
He wanted to know what the trouble was.
“There’s no such thing as The One. Love is like Russian roulette. You have no idea what the outcome is going to be.”
“You’re such a cynic. Why do I work for you?”
“Because I pay better than anyone else on Puffin Island, and I don’t fire you when you try to run a dating business on the side.” Having successfully diverted the conversation, he strolled toward Emily. Kirsti was right. She looked uncomfortable. No, he corrected himself. Not uncomfortable. Shell-shocked. Dazed. Gazing at her, he had the sense she was on the verge of snapping.
He tried to avoid women with baggage, and he suspected she had more baggage than an airline.
The baggage that really put the brakes on his libido was sitting with her legs swinging, waiting for chocolate milk.
He wove his way through crowded tables, noticing with satisfaction that very few were empty. He’d settled them at a table overlooking the beach, knowing that the view was the best on the island. From here you could watch the boats sailing between the island and the mainland. If you were lucky, you caught the occasional glimpse of seals on the rocky headland in the distance. So far they’d had three proposals on this deck, and one sunset wedding.
Almost everyone he knew chose a seat facing the water. He’d had to mediate between couples arguing with other couples over the tables with the best waterfront view.
Emily sat with her back to the water and her eyes on Lizzy as if she were afraid she might disappear in front of her. It only took a glance to see she was fiercely protective.
Keep an eye on her, Brittany had said.
He intended to do just that. Not just because a friend had asked him to, or because it was part of island culture to watch out for each other, but because he wanted to know the story. Kirsti was right that Lizzy and Emily didn’t have the easy relationship of people who knew each other, and yet Lizzy had called her “aunt.”
He wondered where Lizzy’s mother was.
Was there a family crisis and she was filling in?
“One chocolate milk, extra large, two of the best-tasting coffees you’ll find anywhere and a plate of our homemade waffles. They look so good I want to sit down and eat them with you.” Kirsti placed everything on the table with a flourish and the smile that guaranteed her large tips and endless inappropriate invitations. “Enjoy. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“Nothing else for me, thank you.” Emily sent her a grateful glance. She had the air of someone who was improvising madly, feeling her way in the dark with no idea what she was meant to do next.
The breeze lifted a strand of her hair and blew it across her face. And her face fascinated him. Her eyes were the same green as the child’s, her mouth soft and full, hinting at a sensuality hidden behind the tailored clothes. His mind leaped ahead, and he imagined her hair tumbling loose after a night of crazy sex. Given a couple of hours and a babysitter, he was fairly sure he could do something about her tension. Disturbed by how badly he wanted to put that thought into action, he lifted his hand to brush the strand of hair away at the same time as she did, and their fingers tangled. Heat ripped through his body.
“Sorry.” He murmured the word and let his hand drop, watching while she anchored the offending locks with slender fingers. It was a blur of rich caramel and sunshine gold. He wanted to toss that damn clip into the water where she wouldn’t be able to find it.
Because he didn’t trust himself not to do that, he turned his attention to the child. The waffles had gone, the only evidence of their existence a pale smear of maple syrup over the center of the plate. “How is your chocolate milk?”
Lizzy sat on the chair, legs dangling, as she watched the boats glide across the bay, their sails curved by the wind. She’d needed two hands to manage the tall glass, so she’d put the bear down on the seat next to her. “It was good, thank you.” She was stiff and polite, and it occurred to him he’d never seen a more uncomfortable pair.
He remembered Rachel at the same age, lighthearted and playful. She, too, had refused to be separated from her favorite toy, only in her case, the toy had been a puffin and she’d had a habit of leaving it everywhere.
He’d chased around the island more times than he cared to remember hunting for that damn puffin. On one occasion Scott Rowland, the island fire chief, had delivered it to the house after someone in the library had found it and recognized it as belonging to Rachel. Anticipating the day the puffin would be found by a tourist, not a local, Ryan had persuaded his grandmother to buy a spare, and he’d hidden it in his room as a precaution. His closest friend, Zach, had found it when they’d been sprawled in his room one day playing video games. It had taken Ryan six months to live down the fact he’d had a stuffed puffin in his room. Every week when he’d played football there had been a puffin in his locker. He’d dragged his skateboard out of the garage one morning only to find someone had painted a puffin on it. That had been the summer Ryan had given up skateboarding and taken up basketball. For one whole semester, the team had adopted the puffin as their mascot. By the time Zach had gotten bored with the joke, Ryan had enough stuffed puffins to give Rachel a whole colony of the things.
He’d gone to bed at night dreaming of living somewhere that didn’t have Puffin in the name.
“So, Brittany is in Greece.” He kept the conversation neutral, avoiding any topics that were likely to make her jumpy. Since he didn’t know what those were, he figured it was best to stick to talking about her friend. “I remember when she was ten years old, she was playing at being an archaeologist, and she dug a deep hole in Kathleen’s garden. When Kathleen asked what had happened to her flowers, Brit told her it was what was underneath the soil that was important.”
Emily reached for her coffee. “You knew Kathleen well?”
“Very well. There is a group of women on the island, including Hilda, who you met earlier, who have been friends forever. They grew up here, went to school together and then married and had their children around the same time. They’ve seen each other through triumph and tragedy. Island life fosters friendships. They were as close as family.” He saw her expression change. “You don’t believe friends can be like family?”
“Oh, yes.” There was a faraway look in her eyes. “I do believe that. Sometimes they can be better than family.”
So, her own family had let her down.
He filed that fact away. “Over the years their meetings changed. When they had young children, it was a toddler group, a way of getting out of the house and breaking up the Maine winter. When the children were older, they turned it into a hiking club for a short time, and there was one summer when they took up kayaking. In the winter there was yoga, art—that was when the episode of the nude life drawing happened—and right now it’s a book group.” After he’d left home he’d stopped reading for a while. He put it down to all the times he’d read Green Eggs and Ham to Rachel.
“Where do they meet?”
“They used to meet in each other’s houses, but now that’s too much work for one person to cope with, so I let them use one of our function rooms, and provide the food.”
“You own this place?” Curious, she glanced around. “It’s busy. You’re obviously doing something right.”
“Took a lot of effort to design something that satisfied everyone. We needed it to work for the community.” And he’d needed it to work for him. “The buildings and the marina were already here, but we made improvements, increased the number of member moorings and guest moorings, offered boat maintenance and a valet service. The first thing I did was employ a club manager. We had this huge building that was basically unused, so I converted it into apartments and kept the top one for myself. Then we developed this place and called the whole thing the Ocean Club. I worked on the principle that people who have just spent time at sea are happy to crash at the first decent place they find. We’re full most nights in the summer.”
“You’ve lived here all your life?”
“No. Like most people, I moved away, just to check there wasn’t anything better out there.”
“And was there?”
He thought about what he’d seen. The life he’d led. His shoulder throbbed, and he forced himself to relax because tension made it worse. “It was different. I grew up on this island. My grandfather was a lobsterman. My father took a different route. He spent time in the merchant marine and then joined the crew of the schooner Alice Rose, sailing around the coast.”
“I don’t know anything about boats.”
Ryan wondered once again what she was doing on this island, where sailing was the main preoccupation. “That’s a schooner.” He pointed, and she turned her head reluctantly, leaving him with the feeling that if she could have found somewhere else to look she would have done so. “See the two masts? Some have more, but two is common. They have shallower drafts, perfect for coastal waters, and the way they’re rigged makes them easier to handle in the changing winds along the coast, so they need a smaller crew.”
Lizzy craned her neck. “It looks like a pirate ship.”
Remembering Rachel saying the same, Ryan smiled. “My father became captain. He taught seamanship and navigation and then decided the teamwork needed to sail the Alice Rose should be transferable to the corporate world, so he persuaded a few of the big companies in Boston to send their executives up here. The rest of the time he offered coastal cruises to tourists and twice a year he ran bird-watching trips around the islands. He believed that the best way to see the sea, the islands and the wildlife was from the deck of the Alice Rose.”
Lizzy put down her empty glass. She had a ring of chocolate milk around her lips, and the breeze had whipped color into her cheeks. “Was he a pirate?”
“No. The opposite. He was a pioneer of sustainable ecotourism, which basically means he loved nature and tried to make sure that everything he did helped the island. He donated part of his profits to local conservation projects, particularly the protection of the puffins.”
“What’s a puffin?”
“It’s a seabird. They used to nest on these islands a long time ago. Conservation experts have been finding ways to bring them back.”
“This is their home? That’s why it’s called Puffin Island?”
“Yes, although now the puffin colony is on Puffin Rock.” He pointed to the small uninhabited island just visible in the distance. “They lay one egg a year, and young puffins usually return to breed on the same island where they hatched.”
“That’s fascinating.” Emily glanced at him, curious, and he noticed the dark flecks in her green eyes. The dark smudges under those eyes told him that whatever her trouble was, it was keeping her awake. Presumably it was also affecting her appetite given that all she’d ordered was coffee.
“I guess they have a sort of homing instinct.” He’d done the same, hadn’t he? In the end he’d dragged himself back here, to the place where he’d been born.
Lizzy’s eyes were huge. “Can we see them?”
“You can take a boat trip. Humans can’t get too close because otherwise they scare the puffins. Where is home to you?”
“New York.” It was Emily who spoke, and he noticed she glanced at Lizzy and gave a brief shake of her head. He wondered what the child would have said without that warning glance to silence her.
Without looking at him, Emily reached for a napkin and carefully wiped the milk from Lizzy’s mouth. It was a natural response, something he’d done himself when his sister was very young, but something about the way she did it made him think it was new to her.
“You said you met Brittany at college. What were you studying?”
“Applied math and economics. We had rooms next door to each other.”
“You, Brittany and—” he searched for the name “—Skylar.”
“You know Sky?”
“No. But I’ve heard Brittany talk about her.
“So did Brit fill her room with skulls and old coins she’d dug up from the ground?”
Her brief smile was cut off by the sudden burst of loud laughter from a group behind them. She turned her head quickly, and her gaze was caught by something. A glance became a stare, and whatever it was that had drawn her attention unsettled her because her face lost color. Her smile gone, she fumbled blindly for her bag and stood up. “We should go. Thank you for the drink.”
Ryan rose, too, and caught her arm. “Why the rush?” Standing this close, he caught the scent of her hair, saw the unusual blend of colors up close and acknowledged that his interest in her stemmed from something deeper than the desire to keep a promise made to a friend.
There was a cool breeze, but all he could feel was heat, and the strength of the attraction almost rocked him off his feet.
Her mouth was right there, and he knew if it hadn’t been for Lizzy he would have kissed her. Maybe she would have slapped his face, but he would have been willing to take that chance.
The few relationships he’d had since his return to the island had been brief. His choice. A marine biologist who had spent a summer working in the research lab at the north of the island, a nurse who came from the mainland to help out at the medical center occasionally. He didn’t know if they’d hoped for more because he hadn’t asked. He lived his life in the moment.
“We have things to do.” There was panic in her voice. “Thank you for the waffles and chocolate milk.” She kept her back to the group and kept the child in front of her, shielding her from a threat invisible to Ryan.
“Goodbye, Ryan.” Without waiting for a reply, she took Lizzy’s hand and hurried her out of the café, keeping her head down and not looking back.
“Good to meet you, too,” he murmured to himself, quashing the urge to stride after her and protect her from whatever perceived threat had sent her running from the table.
Sudden illness? She’d certainly been pale enough; but she’d been just fine moments earlier, so her health couldn’t be responsible for the sudden shift in her attitude.
Hunting for clues, he rewound events in his head and remembered that she’d looked over her shoulder.
A swift glance revealed nothing but a group of young people who were spending the summer at the marine center on the north side of the island. Linked to the university, the floating laboratory ensured a steady stream of customers for the Ocean Club. They were loud, enthusiastic, in love with life and harmless. And untidy. They’d strewn their belongings over the table and vacant chairs. Backpacks, water bottles, leaflets detailing boat trips, a scientific magazine and a newspaper. They were deeply involved in a discussion about ecosystem-based fisheries management. He knew that at least a couple of them had the right to use “Dr.” in front of their names. They were absorbed and argumentative and passionate. Not one of them had glanced over at their table.
There was no visible reason to justify Emily’s abrupt departure.
“So you scared her away.” Kirsti was back, clearing the plates. “You must be losing your touch. Still, at least you have a reason to chase after her.”
Ryan lifted an eyebrow. “I do?”
“Sure.” Kirsti put down the loaded tray and picked up the bear. “She’s not going to want to be without this. Unless she has a spare. When I’m a mom, I’m going to buy spares of everything.”
Ryan took the bear. “She’ll be back for it when she realizes she left it.”
“Or you could take it to her.” Kirsti added an empty glass to the tray. “You shouldn’t let The One get away. That bear is the equivalent of Cinderella’s slipper. Except that you know it fits.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind. You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me. I make great coffee, and I never complain when we’re busy. And it’s my moral duty to make sure people don’t choose the wrong partners. Talking of which, those two at the table by the door are totally wrong for each other. I might have to interfere.” She strolled off carrying the tray, Cupid in disguise.
Still holding the bear, Ryan started to follow her but accidentally knocked the chair behind him.
A bag and the newspaper fell to the floor, and he stooped to retrieve both with a murmur of apology.
Without thinking, he scanned the headline, something about health care reforms.
Returning the newspaper to the chair, he was about to walk back to the bar when something else caught his eye.
Juliet, Juliet, wherefore art thou, Juliet?
It wasn’t the misquote of Shakespeare that caught his attention, it was the picture beneath it.
The media was still focused on the plane crash that had killed actress Lana Fox and her much older lover. There had been endless speculation about the whereabouts of her little girl.
Ryan grabbed the newspaper and took a closer look at the photograph, and in that single moment he had the answers he’d been looking for.
He no longer needed to speculate as to why Emily had run. He didn’t need to wonder why she’d almost closed the door in his face or even why someone who knew nothing about boats had come to Puffin Island.
He knew.
And he knew why the child looked familiar.