Chapter 7
“Is that street legal?” Kitty pointed to Beck’s truck the next morning.
The grill was gone. Vic had worked a miracle, replacing the radiator, but the grill couldn’t be repaired. The truck no longer smirked or grimaced. Its mouth hung open.
The surprised expression was probably a more fitting reaction to their road trip.
“As long as there’s a bumper, it’s legal.” Beck looked as if he’d rather shop for a new truck than drive his old one. He walked past Kitty without looking at her. “Let’s get going.” He hadn’t met Kitty’s gaze all morning.
Kitty was glad. She’d been unable to shake the memory of his hand clasping hers, of the way her heart squeezed when his fingers encompassed hers. It was one thing for Beck to be afraid of loving Maggie too deeply, and another thing to know Beck and Kitty shared chemistry. If Maggie took him back, would that spark of attraction fade over time? Would Kitty ever stand next to Beck and not have her heart ka-thump with longing? Would Beck find that chemistry with someone else and betray Maggie’s love once more?
Kitty almost wished she’d never kissed him.
When they’d first begun to talk on the hotel veranda last night, she’d been hopeful their situation and her feelings would be straightened out. They’d solved nothing except to create a deeper understanding of their pasts and their outlook on love. And to put a knot of uncertainty in Kitty’s chest. Could Maggie win a bigger share of Beck’s heart? Could any woman?
They drove in silence for hours. Grandma Dotty was worn out from the excitement of the previous day. She napped through the morning, alternating her head from Kitty’s shoulder to Beck’s. The highway north stretched out before them, miles of concrete, shopping malls and ever rarer green belts.
“I’ve always wanted to visit an alligator farm,” Dotty said, without lifting her head from Kitty’s shoulder. “Every man in my life considered them a tourist trap and swore I’d lose a hand to a gator.” She gave Beck a considering look. “Have you ever been?”
“No.” His voice, so long unused, came out in a deep rumbly growl.
Dotty was unfazed by the grouch next to her. “What about you, Kitty?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Beck said before Kitty could answer. “We aren’t stopping.”
“But it said last chance to see gators in Florida,” Dotty said as if that was reason enough to stop. “A gator farm is on my bucket list. You know, I’m closer to kicking the bucket nowadays.”
Kitty couldn’t contain a grumble of her own. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Well, I’m not getting any younger.” Dotty sat upright and settled her pink ball cap more firmly on her head. “I lost Ronald. I lost Winthrop. Who’s to say I won’t be next?”
Kitty thunked her forehead gently against the window and stared at her reflection in the side view mirror. The pink heart-shaped sunglasses were too big for her face, just like Beck’s attitude toward love was too big for her to overcome. “Nobody knows what the future holds.”
“No more stops.” Beck infused his voice with authority. He’d been cranky all morning, even before he’d seen his beloved truck.
Was he unhappy with the way their conversation had ended last night? Did he wish he could love deeply? Or was Kitty the one who was wishing?
For Maggie, of course.
Kitty swallowed back a sound of disgust. A distraction was in order. “Beck, I bet your grandfather would’ve taken you to the gator farm if you wanted to go. I bet he had no boundaries on his love for you. I bet–”
“Butt out,” Beck snapped.
“Do I know Beck’s grandfather?” Dotty shifted in her seat. “He sounds like a wonderful man.”
“He died years ago.” Beck sent a dark look Kitty’s way. “And yes, he took me places he probably shouldn’t have, like the race track. But everything we did together had a purpose.”
“Oh, come on,” Kitty blurted. “You’re saying he never took you to a museum or Central Park to fly a kite? He never let you just be a kid?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He slowed to allow a semi-truck to pull into their lane. “Horse races, horse shows, breeding conventions, equipment retailers. Don’t knock it. I liked it.” These last words were spoken with less conviction. “He taught me the business. He taught me resiliency. I can’t tell you how many times I was thrown from a horse and he made me get right back on.”
Beck’s quiet drive to succeed took on new meaning. Kitty imagined a toddler with tousled brown hair and a solemn expression dogging his grandfather’s every step. A young boy with that same brown tousled mop sitting silently at a table of venerable horsemen. A clean-cut teen bent with grief, but determined to make his dead grandfather proud. And always in the background, his parents, unwilling to encircle him with love. Kitty’s heart ached for that boy.
“But…” Dotty’s face puckered. “During all those years when you were growing up, didn’t you ever cut a rug? Borrow the family car for a joy ride? Escape with a pretty girl into the city?”
“No.”
“Oh, Beck.” Dotty scolded. “You need to go to the gator farm worse than I do.”
Beck wasn’t buying it.
“Is that how you want your kids to be raised?” Kitty had to know if her nieces and nephews would be groomed to take over Beck’s family business or be allowed to be kids.
He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.
The semi-truck in front of them got back into the right lane. Beck gunned past him.
They approached another sign for Gators! Gators! Gators! This time with big red letters that said, “Next Exit!”
Dotty fidgeted. “Coffee runs right through me. Cleans out my back pipes, too.”
Beck made a sound like a trapped carnivore. They’d made two potty stops already.
“They probably have a bathroom at the gator farm. And a food booth, too.” Dotty rested her hands on her knees and rocked back and forth. “Maybe they have corn dogs.”
“Or gator dogs,” Kitty teased, unable to resist.
That remark earned her a glare from Beck. “Those signs you’ve been seeing aren’t for a gator farm.” His voice was as gruff as a pack-a-day smoker. “They’re for airboat tours through the swamp.”
Boats. Kitty’s heart nearly stopped beating.
“Speed. Even better.” Dotty clapped her hands like an excited toddler. “Does that mean we can go?”
Beck sighed heavily. “I’m not going to hear the end of gators if I don’t take you, am I?”
“Nope.” Dotty popped the “p.”
She was either punch-drunk from being in the truck so long or she was drifting in reality. Kitty would’ve given her grandmother water if she hadn’t been doing the strapped-in potty dance.
“This will be our last stop before Tybee Island.” Beck changed lanes, sliding the big black beast between an old red Camry and a white Prius with little room to spare. He should have been a jockey. He was that good weaving in and out of high-speed traffic. “The last stop,” Beck repeated when Dotty didn’t answer.
“Other than breaks to go to the ladies.” Dotty held up three fingers. “I swear.”
Kitty didn’t think it was a good idea to tell Beck her grandmother had never been a girl scout.
*
A short time later, the trio stood on a dock beneath a thatched roof waiting for an airboat to take them and about thirty other tourists on a boat ride.
Kitty’s stomach was set on the spin cycle. She didn’t want to get on the boat. But she didn’t want to let Dotty out of her sight, either. Since her grandfather’s death, Dotty had a way of finding trouble.
“Do you think we’ll see some action?” Dotty was like a teenage boy at the X-Games. She talked to anyone who’d listen to her–the ticket agent, other tourists, and now a pre-teen boy with a blond mohawk and a golf ball size wad of chewing gum. “If our driver gets too close and someone dangles some steak off the side–hoo-wee! There could be blood.”
The pre-teen boy grinned around his braces. “I don’t have steak, but I have gummy worms.”
The two bantered about what bait they had in their pockets–Grandma had gator jerky–and what kind of bait they wished for–Grandma favored sushi. They speculated on how large Big Al was. Big Al was advertised as being the largest alligator in Florida. They wondered if there were gators hiding beneath the dock.
Two airboats raced around a mangrove island about a quarter mile away. Both had a full load of tourists. An alligator swam out of their way, too small to be Big Al.
Kitty stood very still, struggling to fill her lungs with air. The swamp smelled of rotting vegetation, like a pile of cut grass left out in the hot sun for days.
“You’re sweating.” Beck brushed a damp lock of hair away from her face.
“It’s Florida.” Kitty’s voice sounded as if it belonged to a small and fearful bullfrog. “And it’s hot. Of course, I’d be sweating.”
Beck leaned down and peered into her eyes, blocking her view of the approaching boats. “That looks like fear-sweat.”
She pushed him back, raising her voice so he could hear her over the increasing whine of the engines. “I don’t like boats. They can flip and capsize and…” She made herself look at him, trying to will away the panic that was making her hands shake. Best not waste words. “I flipped a boat once. On the ocean.”
“We thought she was dead.” Dotty rejoined their conversation. “Happened during a family trip to Tybee Island. She hit a rock, the boat flipped and sank. All we could see from shore was her orange life vest floating in the water.”
“Creighton said he didn’t notice.” The boat noise was louder now, vibrating into Kitty’s ears. Undulating through her words along with the fear and the slow-motion memory of being thrown into the air, followed by the jarring thud of slamming into the water. “We made a bet. We were racing and he…He didn’t look back until his boat reached the buoy.”
“That explains the frost you sent Creighton’s way yesterday.” Beck’s eyes narrowed. “If I ever see your cousin again, I’m going to have words with him.”
Beck was protective of her?
Kitty drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t used to being the protectee. Her body flushed with heat. She wanted to hug Beck, or at the very least give his hand an appreciative squeeze.
“Maggie reached her first on her Jet ski.” Dotty carried on the story. She framed Kitty’s face in her hands and stared into her eyes with love, acting her age for a change. “We were lucky that day. You bring so much love to our family.”
Kitty covered one of Dotty’s hands with her own, thankful for the touch that kept her from reaching for Beck. “I’d like to think there was a higher purpose in me walking away from the accident with no more than a mild case of whiplash, but I’m afraid it was more likely due to luck.”
“Are you superstitious?” Beck asked sharply.
“No more than you.” Kitty tried to smile. “But I don’t like boats. I don’t even take the Staten Island Ferry.”
The big airboats had reached them, powered down their engines, and were turning slowly. The drivers tossed lines to workers on the dock, who secured them to metal cleats. The crowd inched forward, bunching up. Dotty moved with them, the eccentric grandmother once more.
Fear pressed in on Kitty’s temples and sent a trickle of sweat down her spine. “I know fears are irrational, but they’re my fears.”
“I’m sure these boats don’t go fast,” Beck said just as a flushed-faced teenage boy jumped to the dock and shouted, “That was faster than the rollercoaster at Universal Studios. Can we go again?”
“I’ll sit this one out.” Kitty dug in her flip-flopping heels. “Watch out for my grandmother.”
“Best way to beat a fear is to get back on a horse.” Beck put his arm around Kitty, swept her closer, and toward the boat.
His touch reassured, but not enough to erase her fear. “This is not a teaching moment.” Kitty’s steps were stiff and reluctant. She searched for the exit, but there was none. There was no escape until they snaked out of the line near the boat entrance.
“Life is a teaching moment,” Beck said as if he was the Dalai Lama spouting ideas for a new social media meme.
“If that’s true, what did we learn from yesterday’s events? Tell me one positive thing you learned, and I’ll get on that boat.” She felt a wash of relief. If silver linings came in big bugs that splattered on windshields, Beck wouldn’t see one.
“I learned that I have to be honest with Maggie about my feelings.” He was serious. No smile graced his handsome face. There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm in his tone. “And I was surprised to learn just how far someone will go to protect someone they love.”
He could have laid waste to Kitty and her actions. He could have made her feel foolish to a line-full of strangers. He hadn’t.
Numb, Kitty moved forward with the crowd, reliving the painful body-slap against the water, feeling her back cramp with muscle-memory. “You make it hard to hate you.”
“Likewise,” he said as they rounded the last snaking turn in line. He gave her a friendly smile, one that said despite everything, they’d forged a truce.
The first boat was nearly full. Dotty and her mohawk friend scrambled to the top seat with the driver of the second boat.
Kitty seized Beck’s hand. “Don’t let go.”
He didn’t. They sat on a bench seat in front of Dotty. The boat swayed gently from passengers entering. The motion rocked at Kitty’s composure. There was no breeze. In the hot sun, the humidity made it feel as if she was sitting beneath a thick blanket, suffocating.
Kitty moved closer to Beck and kept her head down, which brought her gaze to the sprinkling of dark hair on Beck’s tan legs. They were strong legs leading to strong feet. He was all lean muscle from working with horses. Quite the contrast to Dr. Hunky.
Beck’s torso shook.
Kitty leaned back to peer at his face. “Are you laughing at me?”
He nodded, a fitting accent to a gentle smile and a warm sparkle in his blue eyes. “I find it amusing that the mighty Dr. Kitty Summer has a weakness. It makes you human.”
“And mortal.” Kitty angled in her seat until their knees almost touched. He was very close. Kissably close. His lips could probably kiss the fear right out of her.
Get a grip, Kitty. He’s Maggie’s.
She stopped looking at his lips, but her gaze was caught in his. She should move away, turn away, let him go. But as the boat pulled away from the dock, the memory of being helplessly flung in the air returned.
Kitty clung to Beck’s hand and whispered again, “Don’t let go.”
“Wild horses couldn’t…” He grinned. It was a lady-killer grin and Kitty felt the power of it down to her toes. “You get the idea.”
She did. Beck was a nice guy. He didn’t have to stop to indulge her grandmother. He didn’t have to hold Kitty through her panic attack. But he did and he was.
“All my years living in Florida and I never rode on an airboat.” Oblivious to Kitty’s distress, Dotty was in seventh heaven.
The driver wore a microphone. He gave them standard safety instructions, and then steered the boat clear of the dock. “To our left is Big Al.” The driver pointed to a huge gator sunning himself on a mangrove island about sixty feet away. “He likes to check out the boats in case anyone falls in. Don’t be the first.”
“Does he want a snack?” Dotty’s voice was picked up in the microphone. “We brought jerky, but I ate it.”
“And gummies,” her young sidekick added. “But I ate those, too.”
“Big Al prefers something with a bit of meat,” the driver said good-naturedly. “Now, there are gators throughout the swamp, but there was a crowd of them out in a channel about a mile away. Let’s get there before the other boat.”
The other airboat had the same idea. They both accelerated. It was a race.
Kitty buried her face in Beck’s chest and screamed, not that anyone but Beck could hear her above the roar of the engine. He switched to holding her right hand with his right hand, and put his left arm around her shoulders. His body heat should have been stifling. Instead, it comforted.
“You can go faster,” Dotty shouted with trouble-making enthusiasm.
That tone of voice was never a good sign. The air left Kitty’s lungs. She opened her eyes.
The boat leapt forward.
Dotty squealed with laughter. “I’m driving!”
“Lady.” The driver’s panicked voice broadcast through the speakers. “Let go of the controls!”
The boat swiveled, rocked, and slammed in the airboat they’d been racing with a sickening crunch that sent the top-heavy boat tilting. Screams filled the air, including Kitty’s. Beck held onto her and glanced over his shoulder toward Dotty.
And then there was a sound Kitty was all too familiar with–the splash of bodies hitting the water. One of them, her grandmother.