Through the years John had developed a reputation of showing troubled boys the way out, and Millie, well, Millie was just the icing on the cake. Living in a big old house that was more old than big, Doug learned to tinker with plumbing, fiddle with wiring, and hold big together with anything from nuts and bolts to spit and chewing gum. Hard work became a thing of pride not punishment, and, by the time Doug had his high school diploma in hand, he’d signed up with Uncle Sam’s Navy ready to get on with life.
He’d come damn close to crying when he had completed the sixth and final phase of EOD training and spotted John and Millie in the stands like ordinary proud parents. For one more day he let himself pretend he was just an ordinary young man moving on to the next stage of his life. He owed that life—and his peace of mind—to John and Millie.
A few weeks after his social worker had dropped him and a ratty suitcase off on Mr. and Mrs. Burns’s front porch, Doug had done a stupid pissed-off-teenager thing and spray painted foul language and gang insignia all over the side of their detached garage. Instead of treating him like a juvenile delinquent, John had gently coaxed Doug’s story from him. Everything as far back as he could remember, including the day, locked in his room at his first foster home, when he had watched the well-dressed couple walking a sobbing not-quite-four-year-old Amy to the car.
Less than two months later John handed him a piece of paper with two names and an address. “You can’t reach out to Amy until she’s eighteen. But at least you’ll know where to look.”
Alice and William Pratt. At 1246 Sycamore Lane. It took a while. First chance Doug got, he drove to the right side of town. Second time he made it to the edge of the street. Next time he drove past the house but didn’t take time to really look. A far cry from the dirty cockroach-infested one-bedroom apartments they’d lived in before that day, 1246 Sycamore looked like a Hollywood movie set. Big mature trees lined both sides of the street. Houses with two floors, picture-frame shutters, and front lawns strewn with forgotten bikes and youthful clutter filled out the suburban vignette. Several drive-bys later he spotted her. It didn’t matter that almost seven years had gone by. He knew her. He’d always know her.
Amy and three other girls her age were in the front yard skipping double ropes. His car windows open, he drove by slowly. Laughter and rhymed singing wafted into the car and squeezed at his already strangled heart. She was the girl jumping, her blonde ponytail bouncing up and down behind her. A smile so big it pulled at the painful memories, easing the pressure against his chest. On a second pass by he looked more closely at the other participants in the lawn party. Two women sat in folding chairs. Their conversation occasionally halting to cheer on and encourage the rope-skipping girls. A man in pressed jeans and a polo shirt helped a small boy around five or six with his T-ball swing. A Norman fucking Rockwell portrait.
Doug didn’t dare take a third pass around. He’d seen enough. Amy was doing just fine without him. She had people who could really take care of her. The last thing she needed was a big brother who wore trouble like a badge.
On the off chance things had changed, he’d gotten leave for her high school graduation. From the back of the school gym he’d watched her walk up the aisle, across the stage, shake the principal’s hand and receive her diploma. Doug hadn’t walked at his graduation ceremony. John and Millie had urged him to, but he’d not seen the point. Amy had. Of course she had. Her life was normal.
From beside an ancient oak, Doug had stuck around a little longer to see the smiles and hugs and photo taking. Big sister, kid brother and two proud parents. The only thing missing was the dog. Though he didn’t hear where she was going, like all the effervescing girls running around the grounds, she was on her way to college. Like Emily, she’d gotten her ordinary life in a happy home with loving parents and a new brother. Once again Doug was reminded she didn’t need him. He’d walked away and never looked back. She’d forgotten about him, and it was time he did the same. Of course he never would. He loved her as much today as he did the day their mother had brought her home from the hospital.
Pulling under the carport of his new apartment, Doug shifted into Park and then took the steps to his rental two at a time. Inside, he tossed his keys on a nearby table and looked around the empty room. He’d picked up a box of dishes, silverware, glasses, and a cheap set of pots and pans. The only two pieces of furniture in the place was his bed—a box spring and mattress with no frame—and a leather recliner. And of course the flat-screen TV, but he didn’t actually consider that furniture.
Even for him the place was pretty stark. Emily’s bright apartment popped into his head. Comfy furniture. Girlie stuff like throw pillows and family photos. A stark contrast to his world. At age ten he didn’t have any photos to frame of what had once been his family. Phone in hand he scrolled through his contacts, calculated the time difference, and hoping his old friend was still awake, punched in a now familiar number.
“Yo,” came across the line.
“What’s this ‘yo’ business? You been visiting your mom in the hood?”
“Sorry, man. Didn’t look at caller ID. Just got off the phone with my brother. Thought it was him calling back. So to what do I owe this unexpected surprise?” Luke “Brooklyn” Chapman was an easygoing character—and a bad guy’s worst nightmare. If any of the men who’d ever served with him had a problem, the former Navy SEAL and current owner of Brooklyn Security was the fix-it man.
“Can’t a man call to say hello?”
“Of course you can. Sorry. How’s paradise treating you?”
“So far so good. It’s great to be working with the guys again.”
“I’m sure. Sharla and I are thinking of taking a little vacation before the baby comes. Sort of a last hoorah. Kona’s on the short list.”
“Great. It’s been a long time since we’ve done the face-to-face thing.”
“You got that right.”
Doug opened the fridge. Six-pack of beer. Packages of bologna and Swiss cheese, a dozen eggs, and a pint of half and half. As a kid looking into a fridge with more beer than nourishment, he’d promised himself when he grew up he’d always have a full refrigerator. So much for goals and expectations. “Listen, I was wondering something.”
“Yeah?”
“If I wanted to check up on someone, you know, see how she’s doing, how long might that take?”
“Depends on what you mean by check up on. If I have a name and social security number, I can have a preliminary paper report by the end of the business day. If you want more personal information—” Brooklyn let his words hang.
Doug looked around the empty room again. He had no more business bringing what had been his life into Amy’s world today than he had when she was eighteen. “No. Nothing for sure. I was just…thinking too much.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Sure do. And I’ll tell Billy and Nick to be expecting you.”
Brooklyn laughed. “You do that. And take care.”
“You too.” Trading his cell for the remote control, Doug flopped into the chair and began flicking channels. A commercial for the only skydiving setup on the Big Island came on, and Doug raised the volume. Listening intently, he reached for his laptop and typed in the business name.
He’d need to log in some jump hours if he intended to keep his license current. And he had no intention of letting it lapse. Besides, a little time in the sky could be just what the doctor ordered to clear his head. Like underwater diving, skydiving in the afternoon wasn’t encouraged around Kona. Heavy winds were especially a problem when jumping out of an airplane with a parachute. Scrolling through a few more pages, he took in the data. Everything looked good. And safe. But still. A quick in-person trip would be in order. The way he saw it, if Emily was intent on adding adventure to her life, the least he could do was stick around long enough to make sure she didn’t do anything seriously crazy or—in the case of a shoddy skydiving operation—deadly.
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* * *
Eight o’clock in the morning rolled around way too early. Her second cup of coffee in her favorite travel mug, Emily unlocked the gym doors. She probably could have arrived a little later, but the nagging idea of leaving any early arriving kids sitting outside waiting for her had fueled her efforts to chase away sleep.
“Hey, Miss Everrett.” As usual Tim was the first to arrive. “Set’s looking really good.”
“Yes. It’s certainly coming together. You kids are doing a great job. Parents too.”
“But we wouldn’t have the upper deck without Mr. Hamilton.”
Wasn’t that the truth. One of the dad’s had grudgingly volunteered, and, after an hour of walking back and forth and measuring and harumphing, it was pretty clear to Emily he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.
The gym door slammed open. “Oops, got away from me. Tim, will you get that please?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Hamilton.”
A couple of boxes of Buns in the Sun pastries in his arms, Doug stopped in front of Tim. “Just call me Doug.”
“Can’t do that, sir.”
“Why not? And for heaven’s sake don’t call me sir. Sir is for officers.”
Wide-eyed Tim turned to Emily. “Uhm.”
“School rules. No student is allowed to call an adult by their first name. The principal believes that erodes the mentor image of teachers and parents.”
Doug blew out a sigh. “Then how about Mr. H or Mr. Doug? Mr. Hamilton makes me feel like an old man.”
“That we can do.” She nodded.
“Good. Now, where do I set up the goods?”
“Over there.” Emily pointed to a folding table against the wall by the back closets. During the play it would be cluttered with quick costume changes and small props, but, for now, it was clear for doughnut duty.
To her surprise, when Doug turned around from setting the boxes on the table and opening them up for any takers, he looked over her shoulder from one side of the gym to the other and then gave her a short but appreciated kiss smack on the lips. Not the peck on the forehead she’d expected. Or the tap on the nose he’d usually offered. A real live, though brief, kiss.
“My fridge is bare. Want to take pity on an old bachelor and join me for dinner out after the night dive?”
“I thought you just said you weren’t…old?” Emily stuttered over the last word as her foggy mind processed she’d just been asked out on a date. At least she thought it was a date. “And I’d love to join you for dinner.”
“Then it’s a date.” Giving her the mixed signals of a peck on the forehead, he was halfway across the gym before she could respond. Those easily excitable, of late, girlie parts came to life. He’d said date. He might not have meant date like a-boy-takes-out-a-girl date, but she wasn’t going to dicker over semantics. If he was picking her up after the dive, that meant she had time for a long bubble bath after practice.
Her mind wandered to her closet. She picked up a cream-filled doughnut and considered what to wear. Mentally discarding several options, she settled on the new skirt and blouse she’d bought last week. Of course she’d have to shave her legs. Or not. Who the hell was she kidding? Playing hard to get with a stranger you brought home from a wedding reception and got very up close and personal with did seem a bit absurd. On the other hand…
“Where do you want to start, Miss Everrett?” the girl playing the lead of Hope asked from the stage.
Emily looked up at the clock on the wall. Good grief. She couldn’t afford to space off the rest of the day ruminating about her dinner plans with Doug. “From the beginning.”
The girl nodded, and the remaining cast positioned themselves onstage or offstage, depending on their roles. The production was really coming together. Another summer hit. If only she could keep her mind on her job and off her date—or how he looked in a tool belt—she might just reach dinnertime without making a fool of herself in front of her students. Later she could decide about her legs, how much to tell her friends and how the hell she was going to keep her budding relationship with Doug from her brother.
Chapter Seventeen
Last night Doug had spent more time tossing and thinking than sleeping. There were several realities in his world, both old and new, that he needed to accept. His sister had a good life. A normal life. A happy life. And he had no right to turn that world upside down by letting her carry the same burden he did every day. They shared the same blood. Not that of a nice smiling couple who’d given their daughter a storybook home and the promise of a bright future. But that of a nasty bastard who beat his wife and a drunken woman who, without a look back, left her children with him. And even if Doug occasionally could convince himself that Amy was smart enough to believe she had, could and would continue to rise above genetics with the foundation of a strong and loving environment, he couldn’t guarantee the truth of his shattered childhood wouldn’t darken her world. Not just the knowing but the guilt that could come with the knowledge she had been given what Doug couldn’t have, and he would not tarnish her world in any way. Ever.
Which brought him to the new reality. Emily had wormed her way into his life with the efficacy of a playful kitten on a winter’s night. There would be no pushing her away. No out of sight, out of mind. Not even leaving the Big Island would be able to wipe Emily from his life, and he didn’t want to leave. For the first time in years he was beginning to feel at home. It wasn’t just Kona, and it wasn’t just his dive buddies. It was all Emily. As much as he’d wanted to reunite with the team, his brothers, it was Emily who had him wanting to stay. He had to find a way to make having Emily in his life—at least for now—work. And that meant getting Billy’s okay. It was the only way.
Lexie looked up from the counter, her severe expression dousing his newfound determination, halting his march to Billy’s office. “Just a word of warning.”
“What?”
“Maile Everrett is in Billy’s office.”
The sudden tension eased from his shoulders. He liked Billy’s mother. “Nice.”
“And Missy Alani.”
That info gave him pause. He didn’t quite understand why any of this was a problem.
“And Sara’s banana-coconut fritters. Never a good sign when Mama Alani has Sara baking.”
Perched on a stool beside Lexie, Jonathan, another dive leader, looked back and forth from one to the other, but, like Doug, seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Doug frowned. He still didn’t get it.
“Maile has decided to have a little impromptu dinner gathering tonight—”
“I’m working the night dive.” And he had a date with Emily.
Lexie swallowed a short chuckle and shook her head. “And Billy told her that. So now it’s tomorrow night.”
He may have been distracted lately, but he didn’t need a house to fall on him to add up what Lexie was beating around the bush to tell him. The mothers were becoming more aggressive in their efforts to pair up Missy’s daughter, Sara, the redhead, with what they considered a nice guy. Apparently him. “Okay.” He sighed. “I’ll deal with it. Later.”
Ignoring the muffled snicker from Jonathan, Doug turned on his heel, walked out the pool door and around the building to the warehouse. He wasn’t up to dealing with moms now. He wanted to talk to Billy alone first. Twenty minutes later, he was almost done checking the gauges on the tanks when Billy came through the hallway door. “Coast is clear.”
Doug laughed. “Lexie tell you I was back here?”
“Said you were hiding.”
“I’m working.” And hiding but he wasn’t admitting that out loud.
“Well, you probably should hide. Not that Sara isn’t a nice girl. But she’s just come out of a bad relationship, and, while rebounds can be fun for us guys, she needs stable.”
Crap. Not the best way to start an I-want-to-date-your-sister conversation. “I can do stable.”
Chin tucked close to his neck, Billy rolled his eyes at Doug.
“Magic, the master of seduction, can do stable?”
Lord he was learning to hate that nickname. “If I want to.”
“And you want to do stable with Sara?”
Doug shook his head.
“Good. Then I won’t have to break your leg when you take up with some barfly and leave Sara crying to her mother and mine.”
So maybe now wasn’t the best time to ask permission. But when would? It wasn’t like Billy’s perception of him was going to change from one day to the next. And his friend was right. Doug didn’t do commitments and stable. He attracted all sorts of women and favored the ones who didn’t want anything more than a night’s fun. Maybe a few days. Nothing that smelled even a little bit like permanent. He couldn’t do permanent. He had the genes to prove it, and, unlike his sister, he hadn’t had the upbringing to change that.
And he certainly didn’t want to leave Emily crying to her mother, but he’d been over this a hundred times and walking away simply wasn’t an option. “If you’ve got a minute, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Of course.” Billy picked up another tank and moved to work beside Doug. “What’s on your mind?”
Good. It would be easier to say what he had to if he didn’t have to look Billy in the face. “I’ve been working with Emily the last couple of days at the school.”
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