Moondance Beach

by Susan Donovan

  Rowan’s life had changed so fast. This time two years ago, Ash had showed up at the Safe Haven in a rainstorm, needing a place to stay. The Rowan Flynn he’d met at the front desk of the Safe Haven had been bitter and hating life and certainly not expecting anything wonderful to be just around the corner. But in a matter of days, rocky though they were, she was swimming in a sea of contentment and hope. And then came Serena, the most miraculous change of all.

  The lesson Rowan had learned: no one ever knows what is right around the corner.

  She tipped her head. She had just heard something. She peered toward Mellie’s apartment, knowing it was too early for her to be up. Maybe she was just using the bathroom. Rowan was about to pour herself an emergency cup of coffee when the door leading to the back stairway creaked open and a set of pretty dark eyes peered into the kitchen.

  “Lena?”

  Oh, crap. Rowan’s voice had been laced with disbelief and judgment, something she’d not intended. She might as well have said, What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night?

  And Rowan already knew the answer to that question. Thanks to Serena’s sleep issues, she was well aware that something was going on between Lena and Duncan. This was not the first time she’d seen Lena sneak in or out of the Safe Haven in the wee hours, and lately, Duncan had started coming and going in the middle of the night himself. This was the first time Rowan and Lena had come face-to-face, however.

  Lena lowered her gaze to the floor. And after a pause and big breath, she pushed the door all the way open and entered the kitchen. When she finally looked at Rowan, there was defiance in her expression.

  “Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

  Lena glanced around the room, checking to see if anyone else was around. Just then the baby began pounding on the sauté pan with her favorite spoon, and Lena’s gaze flashed to the percussionist sitting on the rug. She broke out into a huge smile and laughed.

  “My God, she is so beautiful, Rowan. What a wonderful gift she is.”

  Rowan felt her chest flood with pride. “Thank you. We kind of like her.”

  Lena laughed again, but suddenly she seemed to remember she was standing in the middle of the Safe Haven kitchen in the wee hours of the morning. Embarrassment clouded her face. “I should go.”

  Rowan wondered how she could possibly convince Lena that there was no reason to feel awkward. If she and Duncan were having a good time, then hey, more power to them. Rowan knew all about following your bliss—it’s what she had done with Ash.

  “Please don’t go. I would love some company.”

  Lena didn’t exactly jump at the invitation. It was understandable. Though they had grown up together in the same house and were about the same age, they had never meshed. There had been several reasons for that.

  First off, Rowan had always been a rowdy tomboy—sailing, waterskiing, beach volleyball, swimming, ice hockey, cross-country skiing—while Lena was quiet and reserved. She liked to wander the island by herself, read, or draw. For that reason, their passions didn’t often overlap.

  Then there was the Annie issue, of course. Starting in preschool, Rowan and Annabeth Parker had become inseparable. They still were. And though Rowan and Annie never intentionally pushed Lena away when they were kids, she preferred to keep her distance. It was if she knew there was no room for a third best friend.

  Lastly, Rowan always suspected that Lena drew a line between herself and the Flynn kids because she was the housekeeper’s daughter, which was something Rowan had never understood. Mellie never made that distinction as far as Rowan knew, and her parents loved Lena like one of their own. Whatever division Lena felt was of her own making.

  And now, all these years later, Rowan had come back to Bayberry Island to live and raise a family. Lena was back, too, living and working from a private estate on the island’s North Shore. And yet that old, senseless distance had continued.

  Until Duncan came home.

  Rowan had seen Lena more in the last two months than she had in the last decade, and if that wasn’t enough to indicate something was going on, Lena had agreed to don a mermaid costume and represent the Safe Haven from the parade float. She had never participated in festival week before, and even Mellie seemed surprised that she’d agreed to cover for Rowan this year. So, as Lena stood there wondering whether to accept Rowan’s offer, there was more at stake than a cup of coffee—she was in the process of coming out of her shell.

  “So you know?”

  Rowan wanted to tread lightly. “About . . . ?”

  “The gifts,” Lena said. “You know that I’ve been the one bringing gifts to Duncan.”

  Rowan did her best to hide her surprise. Of course she had always suspected as much when they were kids, but she was sure all the current nighttime coming and going was not just about a few shells and cattails.

  “Uh, yeah. I figured it was you back when we were kids. You and Duncan were very close for a while, and I saw how kind you were to him.”

  “Who else knows?”

  Suddenly, Serena cried out. Rowan hadn’t seen what happened, but the baby now had a red welt forming on her cheek. Her guess was that she had just accidentally whacked herself with the spoon.

  “Oh, sweetie. I’m here. Mama’s here.” Rowan bent down and retrieved the baby, holding her close and stroking her back. She murmured through the sobbing, “It’s okay, darlin’. It’ll feel better in just a minute.”

  Lena stood in the doorway, her face twisted in concern for Serena.

  “Would you mind holding her for a sec while I get a cool washcloth to put on this boo-boo?”

  Lena’s eyes widened. Serena’s howling escalated into great air-sucking sobs.

  “It will just take a sec.”

  “Of course.” Lena stepped into the center of the room and stretched out her arms. The instant Rowan placed Serena in her care, the baby stopped crying. Serena didn’t even wind down to it; she just stopped. Now the silence rang in Rowan’s ears.

  “Well, check that out,” she whispered. “Do you babysit?”

  Lena chuckled, beginning to gently sway with Serena as the baby stared at her in awe. “Shhh, little one. See? Mama was right. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

  Impressed—and just a little puzzled by how easily Serena had taken to someone she didn’t know well—Rowan ran a linen dish towel under cold water, then wrung it out.

  When Rowan turned around, she saw Lena gliding through the kitchen, singing softly. The melody was somewhat melancholy and Rowan didn’t understand the words, which were Portuguese, but Serena’s face was lit up with wonderment. She began giggling.

  When Lena realized Rowan was watching, she went still and stopped singing. “Oh. Here you go.” She tried to peel Serena from her embrace, and the baby started to cry again.

  “Do you mind sitting with her for a bit? She’s clearly very happy in your arms. Here—just hold this against her cheek if you don’t mind.”

  Lena took a seat at the kitchen table with Serena, smiling like she’d just won the lottery. The baby relaxed against her and laid her head on Lena’s chest. She didn’t even fuss about the cool towel that Lena pressed against her skin.

  Rowan turned toward the coffeepot and smiled to herself—that pair was the cutest thing ever. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Both, please.”

  By the time she brought two mugs to the table and sat across from Lena, Serena’s eyelids were growing heavy.

  Lena looked up at Rowan with a pleading expression and whispered, “Who else knows about the gifts?”

  “Nobody that I’m aware of.”

  “No one?”

  Rowan knew the “no one” in question was Duncan. “If he knows it’s you, he hasn’t said anything. And I’ve never mentioned my suspicions to Clancy or even Annie. But my mother—”

  “Oh, great.”

  Rowan snickered. “I told her my suspicions when I was little, and she told me she’d figured i
t out a long time before I did. Then she told me not to tell anyone, and I haven’t.”

  Lena nodded seriously.

  “How could she not know? Ma watched over Duncan like a hawk back then. But I don’t think she would ever make a big deal of it or do anything to embarrass you, Lena. And she clearly has never told him.” Rowan waited for a reaction from Lena but didn’t get one. “Does your mother know?”

  She nodded. “Of course. She watched me like a hawk back then, too. But she doesn’t know that I know that she knows. And she doesn’t know that I know that you and Mona know.”

  The women laughed softly, careful not to disturb the very peaceful baby in Lena’s arms.

  “People can be so ridiculous sometimes,” Rowan said.

  Lena smiled. “This is true.”

  “So.” Rowan fiddled with her coffee cup. “Are you ever going to tell Duncan that it’s been you all along?”

  Lena’s pretty face flushed bright red. “I . . . No. I want him to figure it out. He needs to put two and two together.”

  Rowan tipped her head to the side, deciding how to phrase her next question, since not only was it a delicate topic, but it really wasn’t any of her business.

  “Lena, are you hoping this leads to something long-term? I only ask you this because . . . well, I don’t want you to be hurt, and sometimes Duncan can be such a . . .” Rowan searched for an alternate word for “dickhead.” “He’s a very intense guy. He’s focused on only one thing.”

  “I know.”

  Rowan took a sip from her cup. “I didn’t realize you two have been keeping in touch over the years.”

  “We haven’t.”

  Okay, now she was totally lost. “So you’ve only recently reconnected?”

  Lena’s mouth turned up in a mysterious smile and her eyes sparkled. Rowan had always thought Lena was a pretty woman, but in that instant, she saw a spectacularly beautiful woman—a woman in love. With Duncan Flynn. Rowan swigged some more coffee, just to keep her mouth occupied.

  “Not yet.”

  “Not . . . what?”

  Lena tucked her chin to her chest and checked on Serena, now asleep. “I know it sounds strange,” she said, looking at Rowan again. “But Duncan doesn’t know how I feel about him—how I’ve always felt. And I . . .” She shook her head. “If he doesn’t figure it out soon, then I don’t think he ever will.”

  Rowan couldn’t help it—her mouth fell open in shock. She tried to piece the story together in her head, but it was a strange one, indeed. Lena was sneaking gifts into Duncan’s room the way she had as a kid, but he was as clueless as ever that it was her. Lena had real feelings for him. But the two of them hadn’t reconnected.

  “Um, have you spoken to him since he’s been back?”

  “No.”

  “But you want to, right? You want to get to know him again?”

  Lena laughed, causing Serena to stir. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “It’s okay. So do you?”

  “Of course.” She smiled shyly. “But I’m not the kind of woman who follows a man around town and pretends to run into him at the squash stand at the farmers’ market or something ridiculous like that.”

  “I hear you.”

  “If it’s going to happen, it will happen because he suddenly wakes up, sees that I’m standing right in front of him, and is intrigued enough to do something about it.”

  Rowan froze, her eyes jumping to the back of the kitchen. Duncan stood framed in the staircase doorway, his face stoic, unreadable. In his hand he held a colorfully painted shell, no doubt Lena’s latest present. He advanced silently toward the table.

  Rowan said, “Uh, Lena—”

  “What I really don’t want is your family inviting us both to dinner one night as a setup and then saying to me, ‘Oops! We forgot to mention that Duncan would be here!’”

  “Lena—”

  “I don’t think Duncan would appreciate that, either.”

  “You’re right—I hate being played.”

  Rowan moved faster than she ever had in her life, sliding from her chair, sweeping around the end of the table, and taking the baby from Lena before she dropped her. Rowan took Serena and retreated toward the dining room door, giving the two lovebirds room to . . . rumble?

  This was going to be interesting. Rowan hadn’t seen her brother interact with a woman since back in high school, when girls threw themselves at him. Back then, he used them and swatted them away when he was done. Rowan had no idea if his attitude about women had changed over the years. In fact, she’d never even heard her brother mention a woman’s name. The truth was, Duncan was a complete mystery to her.

  Rowan knew she shouldn’t stick around. Whatever was about to happen here was a private matter between two adults. But then she thought, Well, maybe for just one minute.

  * * *

  Duncan’s entire life had been about proving to himself—and others—that he could endure any hardship and rebound from any setback. He could swim miles in rough seas, walk days through burning deserts, climb seventeen-thousand-foot mountain peaks, and trudge through swamps. Duncan could fly a plane, sail a forty-two-foot sloop by himself, rappel out of a Black Hawk helicopter, and in a pinch, drive a tank. He spoke five languages. He could do a hundred push-ups in ninety-eight seconds and tie a bowline twenty-five feet underwater. Yet nothing in his tool kit prepared him for the instant Adelena Silva turned toward him in that kitchen chair and looked up into his eyes.

  He was flooded with everything at once—a rush of memory and emotion that pistol-whipped rational thought. There she was. She was the girl from his childhood, the seductress from his dreams, and the woman from the beach. His reaction made no sense whatsoever, but he felt something inside him uncoil and go perfectly still. It was her, his woman of the waves.

  Lena stood to greet him. As she moved, her scent slammed into Duncan’s brain. It was the same elixir he smelled in the dream—delicate but earthy, like a garden after it rained.

  A sly smile curled up the corners of her mouth, and at that moment Duncan truly believed that not touching Lena Silva would be the one thing he could never endure, a loss he could never recover from.

  And yet, at the same time, anger welled up from somewhere deep inside him, and as much as he wanted to devour her, he wanted to send her packing for messing with him the way she had. She’d invaded his privacy, for fuck’s sake! Just walked through his door in the middle of the night. Over and over again.

  “You look great, Duncan.”

  Good God, she was a foot shorter than him and her waist was as big around as his thigh.

  “If it isn’t the famous Lena Silva, painter of mermaids.” Duncan displayed what he held in his right hand. “And decorator of clamshells, I presume?”

  Her gaze flashed to the shell and then back to Duncan’s face. “Busted,” she said.

  Oh, shit, this was all wrong. He needed to get in the shower, shave, dress, and be on the seven a.m. ferry to the mainland. His flight to Richmond left Logan Airport at noon. His appointment with Captain Sinclair was at zero eight hundred tomorrow. This was one hell of a time to get distracted. It was one hell of a time to suddenly decide he wanted a woman—this woman.

  The sound of someone clearing her throat came from the dining room. Both Duncan and Lena turned to see Rowan swaying with the baby in her arms. Duncan had forgotten she was there.

  “I guess I’ll say good night, then.”

  “’Night, Row,” he said.

  “Thank you for the coffee, Rowan.”

  They listened to his sister’s footfalls on the main staircase, and the sound reminded Duncan of a ticking clock.

  “Look, Lena. I don’t know what to say. Thank you for thinking of me, I guess. For the stuff when I was a kid and for now. But—”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Just then he remembered all those interviews he’d watched online. Lena could hold her own, and she was doing it again with him. “You really had me going. I was convi
nced it was my mother.”

  Lena allowed her smile to spread. She looked sweet, but even before she said a word, Duncan knew she was about to put an end to their chat. “Sometimes we don’t see the whole picture,” she said, touching his forearm with the barest brush of her fingertips. “It was good to see you again. I wish you the best.”

  She turned to go.

  And he did it. Dammit, he knew it was a boneheaded move. He wanted a clean break from Bayberry when he went back to active duty, no messy apologies or explanations or promises to make—or break. Not to anyone in his family. And certainly not to a woman he hadn’t seen since high school.

  Yet none of that mattered.

  Duncan set the shell on the table, placed his hand on her shoulder, gently turned her around to face him, and Jesus, he did it. He cupped her face in both palms and slowly, slowly, lowered his mouth to hers. He didn’t have the words for the feelings that hit him. He had no frame of reference. Except for one—the dream. It was the same sweet mouth and the same loving response. It was the same swell of emotion inside of him. It was the same damn woman.

  Duncan had planned for the kiss to be what the Navy might call a small-scale contingency—using the least amount of pressure required to stabilize a situation. In other words, he wasn’t planning something overtly sexual, but he didn’t want a dry peck, either. He wanted to give her a respectable kiss.

  As it turned out, the universe didn’t give a damn what he had planned. The instant his lips touched hers, Lena moaned, melted under his touch, and molded her body to his. Before he knew it, Duncan had gathered her up, set her on the edge of the kitchen table, and proceeded to make a meal of her.

  This wasn’t even remotely his style. He never let himself go with women. His three-pronged approach was always the same: remain detached, stay in control, and keep the exit strategy in mind at all times.