Sea Star Legacy

by Carolyn Forrest

  “When will you be getting your personal items out of here?” Sandra mumbled in a low voice, trying to conceal her emotions as she walked back over to the table.

  The dishes ceased their chatter and Bernice cleared her throat. “I can be here this afternoon with boxes if you wish. There isn’t much to move.”

  Finding additional reserves of composure, Sandra examined the woman’s face. Her complexion still wore the same ghostly pallor. One cheek appeared moist and her bright blue eyeshadow had smeared below her eyes. This is business, Sandra reminded herself again and straightened her back.

  “This afternoon will be fine. If you have extra keys, I’d appreciate your returning them to me, too.”

  “Of course,” Bernice agreed with a curt nod then picked up the breakfast tray laden with dirty dishes and moved across the room to the door. From the older woman’s uncharacteristic long strides, Sandra guessed that she wished to leave, as soon as physically possible.

  What would her father say if he were witness to her hurtful words to the woman he cared for? she wondered, trailing Bernice’s movements to help her out of the door. “I’ll see you this afternoon, then?”

  “Yes. This afternoon,” Bernice grumbled as she shut the door in Sandra’s face.

  Sandra turned and fell back into the door. She’d been a bitch and she knew it. Her heart went out to the woman. She liked Bernice Miles. Ben Harris had liked her too, she reminded herself with a twinge of childish jealousy. She’d never understand why her father had left his wife and his child and to shack up with Bernice Miles. Of course, why should she understand her father’s actions? She’d never really known him.

  Sandra had let her emotions take over the situation. Regardless of Bernice Miles, she would have to make good business decisions if she managed to make the Sea Breeze a success. The first step would be getting the place organized. This morning, she’d start by becoming acquainted with the businesses’ books. She wouldn’t have access to any of the estate funds until tomorrow when she met with the attorney. Until then, she could at least find out how much debt the company owed and what kind of inventory was in the shop.

  * * *

  A golden ray of light ran the length of the room drawing Sandra’s attention away from her work and out the office window. Her gaze fell on the languishing sun which precariously dangled high in the sky. The morning had been productive, she thought, and glanced down at her watch. She’d been working at the desk for more than three hours cleaning off her father’s desk. It had been buried beneath a sundry of unfiled invoices, letters and miscellaneous clutter. Now she could clearly see the top of the old oak desk. Each document had been filed away for safe keeping and all the invoices logged into the laptop computer she’d brought with her.

  Thankfully, the ledgers had been up-to-date, she thought, massaging her tired neck muscles with her hand. She needed a break. Something she could do which would get her moving around. She would inventory next, she decided as she stood.

  Stretching the kinks out of her legs, she was reminded of the previous night spent literally in the bay. Hopefully, no one noticed the bit of excitement. Seeing her little incident on the local news page could be the end of her business before it ever started. From past experience she knew, she’d have to prove herself to the towns’ people. Having to be pulled from the bay wasn’t a good way to begin.

  That reminded her, she had meant to ask Bernice what Luke did for a living and if she knew why he had been watching her last night. Their conversation had turned for the worst awfully fast and she didn’t get a chance. Luke Caldwell was a handsome enough of a man, though something about him made her leery. Perhaps he was too ruggedly handsome or then there was the way he suddenly changed from being obnoxious when he rescued her to a perfect gentleman after she’d fainted. In fact, he’d all but flirted with her before he left. He could have been on his best behavior for Bernice or even changed his mind about her after he’d picked her up. She should give him the benefit of the doubt, she told herself as she stared down at the marine catalogue which lay face up on the desk.

  Picking it up, she flipped through the pages until she found a section she recognized. Surely she would run into Luke Caldwell again, she thought, folding the pages back and grabbing a legal pad for notes. Next time she saw him, she would make it a point to find out what he had on his mind.

  Forcing herself to concentrate, Sandra went into the show room and began inventorying all the parts which she was familiar with. She wouldn’t be able to list everything without doing a bit of research. She’d at least get a head start while keeping herself busy.

  As she came to the close of counting the last of the life jackets, she heard the sound of wet shoes on the ramp outside the shop. Peeking around the wooden oars, through the shop’s doorway, she saw a pair of hairy legs striding forward. She smiled knowingly. Luke Caldwell in the flesh, she thought. An unexplainable shiver of nervous excitement ran its course up her spin as she feigned interest in her work.

  The door knob turned. Sandra continued to look down at the notes in her hand, pretending not to notice his entrance. In the deafening quiet of the empty shop, her pulse beat a steady rhythm in her ears as she waited. Why was he here? Had he come to gloat over last night?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Luke hesitated, his hand resting on the door knob. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to visit Sandra Harris. On the sail over, he had told himself he was simply checking on the daughter of his deceased best friend. He knew better, though. He hadn’t been able to get Sandra from his thoughts since he left last night. Her soft delicate skin, her wet stray locks of hair and those eyes. Even as he tried to sleep, he would envision her wide eyes looking up at him. A man could drown in those eyes, as easily as he could drown in the emerald depths of the sea. Their dark liquid character seemed to lure him like a siren.

  The last time a woman had affected him to the point he couldn’t think straight, he had paid a sharp price. His chest felt heavy with the memory. It was the only battle he’d ever lost. You’re older now. Your life has changed, he assured himself and he pushed open the door.

  Entering the shop, his gaze sought Sandra out. She was standing next to a display. After several seconds ticked away, she gazed up from her work. She smiled at him.

  “Hi. I came by to see how you’re doing,” he managed, striding across the store to stand by her in what felt like one motion. The movement had only one goal, to be close to those lovely turquoise eyes even if she didn’t want to see him.

  “I’m fine, thanks. Just getting in a few last details before I lockup to go upstairs.” Sandra inclined her head to the side. A curious expression lit her face. Had she guessed the reason he’d come? From the look in her eyes, he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d expected him. If she had, she was one up on him because he had questioned himself all the way over as to a good reason to come see her.

  Luke leaned over the counter and placed his weight on his arms. An instant awareness of her presence flooded over him. He could smell her soft floral cologne mingled with the scent of soap and sunshine. Well, maybe he had some idea why he’d decided to visit her. Coming to see Sandra hadn’t been one of those easy decisions one made, though. It was more like a battleground he faced. He knew that each time they met he was taking a chance of never being able to walk away.

  In the hope of regaining his composure, Luke lowered his eyes. His gaze fell to her breasts. The sheer cotton fabric of her shirt revealed the rise and fall of her chest with each breath. Light pink nipples were barely visible through the print of the fabric. Good grief, he thought, she’s not wearing a bra. His pulse stepped up another notch. The enemy definitely didn’t play fair, he thought.

  He watched her neck flush from his blatant stares. If she hadn’t realized what was on his mind before, she knew without a doubt now, he thought with chagrin. He waited for her to pop off a reprimand for his brazen behavior, but she didn’t utter a word.

  “Inventorying parts? He asked
in a low husky voice then cringed inside when he realized the irony in his words. He watched her fight down a laugh and couldn’t help appreciating the curl of her lips. Then clearing her throat she finally managed a neutral expression and looked up at him. Luke could still see the amusement written in her eyes.

  “Yes, I never knew there were so many gadgets and doodads to put a sailboat together,” Sandra explained staunchly.

  Luke let out a chuckle. “What has you stumped?” he asked. He’d never heard a boat part called a doodad before. It conjured up images of bangles and beads. He glanced down at the Murphy Marine Catalogue lying face up. The page was filled with various shapes and sizes of shackles.

  As she held up a large stainless steel part which resembled a spring loaded key chain, Luke’s grin widened. She didn’t know much about sailboats. She did have pretty hands, however. Her fingers were long and petite. Her creamy skin glowed in the soft light. If Sandra Harris spent a lot of time in the water, the Oklahoma sun must be far more kind to the fair skinned than the hot Florida rays. Usually Luke preferred the sun bleached look of a tanned blonde over the fair complexion of most brunettes but Sandra was definitely an exception to the rule.

  Setting the silver circle down, Sandra stared boldly up at him. He felt his throat knot as he fought the unexpected urge to take her into his arms. He watched with interest as her jaw sat in obvious irritation. Did she think he was laughing at her? If she only knew the truth. Luke felt blood surge in his groin. There wouldn’t be any doubt about what he had on his mind if he didn’t focus his thoughts on something else and quick.

  “The doodad in your hand is snap shackle,” he stated a bit too abruptly.

  “A snap shackle.” Sandra tried to sound knowledgeable as she continued to gaze into his eyes. She wasn’t about to give him any more pleasure in her ignorance than it appeared he was already getting.

  “A snap shackle,” he confirmed with a nod and smile. “It’s most often used on the leech of the end of the mainsail on a catamaran. The snap shackle attaches the boom to the sail. Most cat sailors prefer it to a regular shackle because you can disengage the mainsail, as soon as you hit the beach. Otherwise, you can end up capsizing on dry ground.”

  She turned the shiny metal piece over in her hand. How long would it take her to learn the particulars of the business? Hopefully, not so long that the locals realized she knew nothing of actual sailing. Her only experience had been on a sailboard on a safe, calm lake.

  “Why don’t you let me take you out on my sailboat?” Luke asked, as though reading her thoughts. “I’ll show you what a catamaran can do. And, where the part goes?” He leaned farther over the counter towards Sandra.

  Sandra didn’t move a muscle as she waited for a clue to his intentions. Instantly, the air thickened with humidity. She could sense his presence against her skin though they had not touched.

  “Sounds . . . great,” she answered in a husky voice without considering her answer in earnest. Her gaze remained transfixed on Luke. Her instincts told her to look away from his entrancing stare, but she felt caught like a spider in a web.

  Luke raised his hand and stroked the side of her cheek. Her skin grew warm under his touch. Sandra made herself look away. You don’t know anything about this man, she told herself and besides you don’t need any distractions in your life right now.

  Running his hand down her jaw to her neck, he hooked his index finger under her chin. Hot sparks of anticipation radiated down her neck as her cheeks turned to liquid heat. Yes, Luke Caldwell was indeed a dangerous man.

  He tilted her head upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. Analyzing Sandra’s delicate features, he could see the passion in her turbulent eyes. He felt his heart rise and fall like an enormous wave before a storm. Leaning closer, he brushed his lips against hers, once, twice and then again. As he moved back, he once more studied her face. Long brown lashes shadowed her flushed cheeks. Her lips were moist and slightly parted.

  A ragged breath escaped from deep within Luke’s chest. This is Ben’s daughter, he thought. His lips curled into a pleased grin as he thought of the effect he had on her. Releasing her chin, he stepped back from the counter.

  “I’ll be by about 4:30 p.m. tomorrow. All right?”

  “Sure . . . . Sounds fun.” Sandra watched Luke turn and leave the shop while she tried to will herself to breathe again. Her fingers unconsciously stroked the snap shackle which remained in her palm. Its stainless steel surface felt warm and solid much like how she remembered her rescuer’s embrace.

  She’d never met a man who threw her into such a quandary before, she realized, dropping the shackle into the correct bin. She didn’t know what had come over her. She needed a romantic distraction about as much as a hurricane. Granted, if she were in the market for a lover, Luke would be a good candidate. But, she wasn’t in the market. She’d simply have to get his telephone number the next day and call him. She couldn’t possibly make their date. Why, she didn’t even know where he lived or what he did for a living. For all she knew, he could be an axe murderer or worse married with ten kids.

  As she closed the plastic lid to the compartment, she couldn’t help remembering the light brush of his lips and she smiled. His kiss was nice, she thought. Brief, but very nice. Perhaps she should go. She had often admired the sleek hulls of the catamarans cutting through the calm Oklahoma lakes and she’d never sailed on one. Of course, the choppy Gulf Coast was another matter altogether. She bit down on her lower lip as she recalled her last experience in the bay. Luke had to be a skilled sailor, though. Why else would he have offered? She would be perfectly safe.

  Turning her back to lean against the counter, Sandra looked up at a cluster of black and white photographs which hung from the wall. Though her mother refused to have a picture of Ben Harris in her house, Sandra felt certain the man in all the photos was her father. She recognized his nose as the one she stared at each morning in the mirror. The eyes were familiar too, though they were set a bit deeper than hers and were rimmed with wrinkles. Some of the photos were of her father standing alone in front of a boat with a wide grin across his face as he held the trophy up for the camera. In still others, he was celebrating with another man, a man with a beard and cool eyes, a man many years her father’s junior.

  “What do you think, pops?” she halfheartedly asked one of the weathered photos as she turned to go upstairs. Then something hauntingly familiar about the two men’s faces made her stop short. Drawn to the photograph for a closer inspection, Sandra realized that she recognized the younger man from somewhere. As she moved within a few inches of the picture, she instantly knew who the man resembled, Luke Caldwell. The man in the photo looked to be a bit younger than the man who had just left her shop, but it had to be Luke none the less.

  * * *

  After supper that evening, Sandra decided that she needed to go back into the bay. She had always loved the water. As early as she could remember, she had been mystified by the mere sound and feel of waves beating against a shore. It didn’t matter whether it was a lake or an ocean. Every time she looked out at the bay now, however, she relived the helplessness she’d felt the night before. What once had been a healthy respect for the ocean was swiftly turning into fear.

  Having made up her mind, Sandra changed into an old swimsuit and headed out the back door. She didn’t have the nerve to take the sailboard out again and wouldn’t until she became more familiar with the area, however a brief swim would be a good start.

  As she walked down the ramp onto the sandy beach, her heart beat faster with each step. The cool sand oozed through her toes and up to her ankles. She felt her throat tighten. The granular mixture seemed to grab at her, trying to pull her back. When she finally met up with the shoreline, Sandra watched the tide’s approach and forced herself to drop her towel down upon the empty beach. Come April, the same stretch of sand would be packed with a relentless siege of tourists. But for now, it appeared all of Fort Walton’s visitors had fled with t
he coming of the mild nip in the September air.

  Taking in a deep breath, Sandra watched the sun loom sluggishly over the horizon. It reminded Sandra of a sleepy child trying to put off their bedtime. Dusk had always been her favorite time of day. Unlike the early morning hours, everything settled in and slowed down at sunset.

  Entering the breakers, she threw herself into an outgoing wave. The warm waters rushed over her body rinsing her worries away. Once she’d coasted to a stop, she waded still farther out. Nothing here in the calm of the frothy waves could throw her thoughts askew from her goals. No tempting sailors, no heartbroken widows, only herself and the ocean.

  As she scanned the surrounding waters, she watched for an incoming wave to bodysurf back to shore. Her gaze froze on a gray object about twenty feet away. A wave swelled and she lost sight of it. Another swell, she noticed the object moving closer. A fin stood out from the water. It’s just a dolphin, she told herself as she clamped her toes into the sandy bottom. You’re acting paranoid and spoiling a perfectly enjoyable swim for yourself. It’ll be dark soon and it’ll be cold then and you’ll have wasted your opportunity to enjoy the surf.

  Raking the stray locks of her hair back off her face, she couldn’t help straining to look for the object one last time. Reality sprung into her head like a jack in the box. Dolphins don’t swim on the top of the water. Her feet fumbled on the ocean bottom trying to propel her alarmed body to the shore, away from the swimming dorsal fin.

  Safe on the beach, she glared back at the water in search of the intruder. A heavy towel fell upon her shoulders. Emitting a shriek, Sandra flinched away.

  “Sorry,” a man’s low voice murmured.

  Sandra twisted around to address the person standing next to her. Muddy brown eyes and a thin lipped smile jeered at her. The man’s sun bleached blonde hair outlined an oval face with rounded check bones. Obviously tanned by the sun’s rays, his skin was almost the color of chocolate. His gaze wandered brazenly over Sandra’s wet bathing suit clad form.