Sea Star Legacy

by Carolyn Forrest

  Sandra stared blankly at the floor, unable to answer. As usual after the sixth ring, it stopped.

  Placing his hand underneath her chin, Luke raised her gaze to meet his. “Look at me,” he pleaded. Her private line began clamoring to be answered.

  She cautiously met his gaze. Gaping into the crystal depths of his blue eyes, Sandra could see the concern and confusion written there. She fought for the words. Her lips separated, but she couldn’t utter a sound. Again, after the sixth ring the phone stopped.

  “It’s okay, Sandra. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “They shredded it.”

  “What?”

  “Someone was in the house. They shredded my bathing suit on top of my bed,” she sobbed.

  Catching her breath, she noticed a swirling red light and headlights pulling into the driveway. The flashing red beam chased its way across the living room as the vehicle moved closer. It was a patrol car stopping in front of the Sea Breeze. A large lump froze in her throat.

  “Did you call the police?” she asked in horror.

  “No, I called the sheriff.” Luke dropped his hand to his side, worry laden lines formed on his face. “Talk to Mac. If someone is brave enough to break in here, he is dangerous.”

  “Mac? You know this person?” she asked, unable to believe what was happening to her.

  “What could I do, Sandra? You pushed me out of the door. Someone could’ve been in here.”

  “Now, I’m in danger of idle gossip at the hands of Billy Bob, local yokel and bad publicity for my business.” She bit at her lower lip and backed away from Luke.

  “Don’t you ever think about anything but the Sea Breeze? he asked, taking up the space between them. “Your father wouldn’t have wanted you to put yourself in danger for the business nor would he have wanted it to become your life.”

  “If you haven’t ever noticed work is a big portion of living. You can’t live a very good life if you can’t eat and you’re sleeping out of a box.” She knew she wasn’t justified in lashing out against him. His words stung. She knew he was right. “You don’t understand.”

  “I know enough to accept help when I need it. So, did your father. That is what friendships are all about.”

  Luke’s words softened her fear. She faced him and examined his finely chiseled features. His eyes wore the reflection of grief and frustration. A mariner in contemporary clothes, true to his friends and vengeful to his enemies,” she thought.

  “You cared a lot about my father, didn’t you?”

  “Yes and I valued his friendship, too.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” Running a hand through her hair, she waited for his answer as she wished she hadn’t asked.

  “No. I think you know better.” Luke moved closer to her and whispered into her ear. His breath tickled her neck sending tingles running along her spine. “This is why I’m here,” he said and pressed his mouth against her quivering lips.

  Reaching her arms up around his neck, she relaxed into his body. As his kiss grew more demanding, she relinquished herself to him.

  “You’d better answer the door,” he told her, breaking their embrace. “Mac will be breaking the glass to get in if you don’t.”

  Sandra peered out of drowsy, thick lashed to find Luke staring at her. A satisfied boyish smile graced his mouth. She felt as though she had been placed in a heavy fog laden sea as she struggled to regain her senses.

  A loud round of knocks sounded from the front door. The panes of glass next to the door rattled their voice of disapproval with each blow.

  “I’m coming,” Sandra yelled, putting her hand to her aching head. “Hold on a second, I’m coming.”

  Crossing the room, she turned the handle and jerked the door open. A heavy set man wearing khaki and brown stumbled forward through the door. Regaining his balance, he reset his hat squarely on his head and eyed Sandra with suspicion.

  “Sandra Harris?” he inquired in a bristling voice.

  “Yes, I’m sorry it took me so long to answer the door,” she stammered while the heat of embarrassment rushed to her cheeks.

  The sheriff scanned the room in a quick concise manner. Once he appeared to be satisfied with his surroundings, he turned his attention to Luke. “So, what’s going on?”

  In reply, Luke raised a dark eyebrow and glared across the room at Sandra.

  “Why don’t we all sit down,” she interjected with a motion of her hand toward the living room furniture. “Then, I’ll tell you all I know.”

  Sheriff Mac sat on the edge of a small straight backed chair. A faraway expression stole over his face as he looked at the clipboard laying in his lap then cleared his throat.

  “I don’t know if Luke told you, he said, sitting forward on the chair and extending his wide hand, “I am Mac McPherson, the sheriff for Fort Walton.”

  Reaching out, Sandra grasped the man’s hand. His grip was firm and reassuring. McPherson continued to hold their handshake for an uncomfortable moment before he finally released his grip.

  “I knew your father for some twenty odd years,” he said and cleared his throat. “Good man, I’m sorry he’s gone.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.” She managed to reply with a smile.

  “Rachel tells me you received a threatening letter.” He skimmed over the papers held on the clipboard than glared over at Sandra. “Is that correct?”

  “Yes, she began, taking in a deep breath. “Luke brought me back from the Trader’s Cove.” She stood up and walked over to the kitchen bar to retrieve the waded up note. “This is what I found on my front door.”

  Mac McPherson unrumpled the piece of notebook paper and studied the scrawl of bright red letters with interest.

  “May I see the note?” Luke asked the sheriff in a commanding tone.

  He didn’t answer, but placed the paper in Luke’s outstretched hand.

  “What held the paper to the door?” the sheriff questioned.

  Sandra sat and thought. “I’m not sure.”

  “Let’s go look at it,” Mac McPherson commanded, crossing the room and opening the front door. Luke and Sandra fell in behind him. On inspection of the door, McPherson pointed to a clear push pin.

  “It’s a bulletin board tack,” Sandra stated.

  “Yes. It doesn’t really tell us anything except the individual has a bulletin board in their house or business. It is a start, though,” he said with an authoritative timber.

  Moving back to the living area, they sat down. The sheriff placed the pin in a small plastic bag he retrieved from his breast pocket.

  “Is this the first time anything like this has happened to you since you’ve been here in Fort Walton?” he asked.

  “It’s the only written threat I’ve received. After I moved in, however someone started ringing my phone and hanging up. Tonight before Luke came back over I received the typical call on the business phone then the personal line. After I saw the bedroom, I was upset and I picked up the line on the second ring. A man called me a . . . ‘castrating bitch.’” Sandra’s voice broke as she repeated the callers words.

  “Did you recognize the voice?”

  Sandra glanced over at Luke. He sat scowling. The caller’s voice could have been his, she realized. “The voice was a low base and muffled. I am pretty sure it’s a man,” she offered as the sheriff continued to write her information down.

  After a long moment, the sheriff looked up from his writing and met Sandra’s eyes for several seconds before asking, “Is there a particular day, you receive the calls more often than others?”

  “No, not that I’ve noticed.”

  “There’s something else, Mac,” Luke interrupted, looking at Sandra as though he expected her to finish his statement. “Whoever it is, came in here tonight. They tore up one of her bathing suits.”

  “Is that right?” the sheriff asked. His penetrating gray eyes seemed to accuse her of withholding information.

  “Yes, that’s right,” she said defensively. �
�I found it on my pillow. The suit is torn into about a hundred, three inch strips.”

  “Have you moved or touched the suit?”

  “No.” It surprised her to hear the edge in her voice. The thought of touching the fabric repulsed her.

  “Well then, I’ll go collect it for evidence.” The sheriff’s features softened and he put on a brief uneasy smile. “I’ll send it to the lab in Tallahassee. Could be we’ll get luck and get a lead on this guy.”

  “The bedrooms are up those stairs,” she directed him and sighed. Perhaps coming to Fort Walton had been a mistake. Living in Oklahoma was depressing, but Fort Walton . . . . Would she be able to handle this threat and the business too? The choice was simple. She had to keep the Sea Breeze open, no matter what.

  McPherson returned a few minutes later with a baggy full of her bathing suit remains.

  “What do you think is going on Mac?” Luke asked, his inky eyebrows arched into a single line.

  “It’s hard to tell. The only sign of potential forced entry was a window who’s lock had been broken. I couldn’t tell if it had recently been broken or not. I’d suggest keeping all windows closed and to change the locks on all the doors. You can put a piece of wood or handle in the upper portion of the broken lock. The broken lock is in the study.” The sheriff gave Sandra a half-hearted smile. “Could be a prank, but I’m not going to take this situation lightly. We’ll put a tap on the line and try to trace the call. I’ll give you a ring, Sandra, on Monday when we’ve got it in place. You’ll have to try and keep the caller on the line. Even if they don’t say anything, you’ll need to talk to them.”

  “I’ll try,” Sandra whispered as her voice threatened to fail her. It had been a long night and her head felt as though it might explode. Then the phone rang. Sandra sat stunned staring at the black apparition.

  “Don’t answer it,” sheriff Mac ordered and he reached for the receiver. After several seconds of silence he spoke, “Yes, who may I asked is calling? Mrs. Daniels, Sandra is right here. I’ll put her on,” he said, handing her the phone, a whimsical expression on his face. “I believe your mother would like to talk to you.”

  Accepting the receiver in her hand, Sandra took in a deep breath in an attempt to stay calm. If her mother suspected anything at all was wrong, she’d never hear the end of it.

  “Hello, mother?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Who was that on the phone?” she asked in an accusing tone which was all too familiar.

  “His name is Mac McPherson. He came by to check out a . . . my telephone.” Sandra looked over to see if Luke and the sheriff were listening to her conversation. They were talking in a whisper near the kitchen.

  “There’s a telephone repairman there at this time of night?” her mother asked in obvious disbelief and concern.

  “Yes, he’s a friend of Dad’s.”

  “Dad’s friend? I still don’t think it is proper for you to be entertaining someone at this hour by yourself.”

  “Mom, it’s okay. I’ll call you back tomorrow. I need to go and see the man out,” Sandra told her, not trying to hide the increasing edge in her voice.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.” Sandra knew by her mother’s accent on the word tomorrow, she would be expected to give her a full account of who the man was followed by a long oration about the sins of inappropriate behavior for someone in her “high” social class.

  “Goodnight, mother.”

  “Goodnight,” Mrs. Daniels replied in a resigned voice.

  Having hung up the phone, Sandra eyed Luke and the sheriff who had moved over to the window, continuing their discussion in hushed tones. Abruptly, their conversation stopped. Luke met her gaze. His expression was of solemn concern.

  The sheriff walked towards the door, cuing his business there was completed. Before he let himself out, he turned back to Sandra. A broad grin displayed a row of uneven teeth.

  “You sure look like your father,” he said, shaking his head in amazement, as the same faraway look once again shrouded his face. “Why, I remember when Ben Harris first came to Fort Walton. This place was little more than a shack full of surf boards and dinghies he’d made himself.”

  “Ben knew how to build them to go fast,” Luke commented with a knowing smile.

  “Didn’t you work for Ben for a while when you first came out this way?” the sheriff asked Luke.

  He nodded. “He taught me everything I know about the boating industry. I was working on a fishing trawler when we met. He offered me my room and board in exchange for a good day’s labor. I wanted to get into sailing so bad, I would’ve paid him if I could’ve.”

  “Do you think someone could be out for revenge against my father? Is that why they’re trying to scare me away?” Sandra queried, interrupting Luke and the sheriff’s stroll down memory lane.

  “Anything is possible,” Sheriff Mac replied, “though it would sure surprise me. I can’t remember anyone who didn’t get along with Ben. There were lots of folks he didn’t see eye to eye with, but none that held a grudge.” Rubbing his chin, the sheriff looked down at the wooden planks in the floor. “Do you have somewhere else you can stay tonight?”

  Sandra’s eyes flew open wide with surprise. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I was thinking, you might a . . . you know, feel better sleeping somewhere else,” the sheriff stammered, looking at Luke for obvious support.

  “Forget it, sheriff. No one is going to drive me away from the Sea Breeze,” Sandra stated, dryly. “Not even for a night.”

  “I can’t force you to leave, ma’am, however I doubt you get much sleep tonight if you stay.” The middle aged man frowned and moved towards the door. Opening it up, he turned to Luke. “I’ll be heading out. If anything else happens, let me know.”

  “I will,” Sandra blurted out in irritation. The sheriff treated her like a small child who couldn’t take care of herself. “You can address your remarks to me, Sheriff McPherson.”

  McPherson frowned, adding to the furrowed lines in his forehead. “Very well, if you wish, Ma’am.” As if to dismiss the subject, he walked through the door and closed it with surety.

  Suddenly the room felt stuffy. Pacing over to the sliding glass doors, Sandra opened it to let in the breeze. She watched silently as the sheriff drove off.

  “See, it’s already starting,” she stated. “That’s why, I didn’t want you to call the authorities,” Sandra blurted out over her shoulder at Luke and turned back to the door.

  He didn’t reply, but strode over to her. Their silence held an unspeakable tension. She could feel his presence behind her. Apprehension and anticipation furled itself into the pit of her stomach like a jib in a blow.

  She held herself rigid not daring to flex a muscle as the clean smell of Luke’s after shave mixed with the scent of sunshine dried clothes taunted her senses. How would she ever get out of this situation, she wondered as she studied Luke’s rakish blue eyes.

  His hand clasped her upper arm and spun her around. “What’s starting? What are you talking about? Luke demanded.

  Sandra pulled her arm free of his grasp and lifted her chin, giving him an indignant glare. “When word gets out about all this, no one will want to do business with me. It’s hard enough getting people to believe a woman is capable of running a company.”

  “You’ll convince them. After all, you’ve convinced me.”

  Sandra looked up into Luke’s face. “Have I, convinced you that is?”

  “I’d buy the moon and the stars from you, Sandy,” Luke replied in a husky voice.

  Sandy, he’d called her Sandy earlier, she remembered. Now the nickname felt fitting, even endearing.

  Luke stood tall, his expression somber. She could feel the prevalent strain of emotions growing between them. A cool ocean breeze wafted through her hair. She thought about the first time she saw him leaning over her with the same intense stare. Something in the pit of her stomach and the back of her mind warned her to run away while she h
ad the chance.

  He stroked her arm with his hand. “You have goose bumps all down your arm,” he said with concern.

  Turn around, Sandra, she told herself. Shut the door. Do something. She studied the fullness of his lips and drank in his masculine fragrance.

  As though he’d read her mind, Luke moved to close the door. Standing in front of the glass, he paused and looked out at the surf. It’s starting to get rough out there. Hurricane Louise is supposed to hit Miami tomorrow.”

  Sandra remained motionless, not sure what would happen. Moments before they’d been mere millimeters from embracing; now they were discussing the weather. A clasp of thunder echoed in the distance followed by the flicker of lightening. The brief flash of light revealed dark, ominous clouds poised over the ocean’s horizon.

  Sandra walked over to the door that remained open and peered out at the churning waters. A small white object bobbed from behind a large wave for a fraction of a second and was gone again.”

  “What was that? Luke, I saw something out there.” She pointed her finger where she’d seen the object disappear. “Over there, by the fishing pier.”

  After grabbing a jacket from the coat tree next to the kitchen, she reached for his hand. “Let’s go out on the deck,” she suggested as she lead him out the sliding glass door.

  As they stood at the railing, another clap of thunder sounded, this time louder and closer. An illuminating streak of lightening followed.

  “There, it’s a catamaran.” Luke pointed to the far side of the beach. “They better know what they’re doing. Those waves will throw them on their side unless they come into the shore at the right angle.”

  “Should we do something?” she asked as her muscles tightened and flinched with the sound of each breaker cresting. The same terrible feeling of desolation fell upon her now that she’d experienced four weeks ago when she’d been stranded in the bay. The night, she’d met Luke. Had he been standing on a similar outlook watching the water when he saw her? she wondered.

  “I think they’re going to be fine. They’re riding the waves out and they’re coming in okay. Luke moved closer and wrapped his arm around her. A long thread of sheet lightening danced through the sky followed by another large boom.