“Is it?” Sounding barely interested was tough work. “Does she ever talk about me?”
CJ scowled.
“Never mind. Get some sleep.”
“‘Night, Derick.” CJ yawned and balled up on his side.
Walter mumbled something unintelligible around his pacifier, then copied his brother.
Out in the galley, Adam had talked Hanna into playing cards, and Sophie had her nose in a book.
“Anyone up for s’mores?” Derick asked the room at large. Adam nodded, always game for food, but Sophie yawned.
“I’m exhausted. I think we’ll probably turn in early.” A glance at her husband settled the business, though he looked like he wanted to revolt.
Hanna answered by standing and pulling marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers out of the cupboards. Derick took a couple of cold sodas from the fridge, then followed Hanna upstairs. On his way out he sent his sister a nonverbal thank you. She grinned and resumed her reading.
Up on deck, Derick loaded his arms with the firewood they’d picked up at the marina earlier and chucked it onto the sand. “Why don’t you find some good roasting sticks while I do the manly job and start the fire?” he suggested.
Hanna gave him a look that said really, gender stereotyping?
Derick winked to let her know he was teasing her, and Hanna’s whole face lit with a breathtaking smile in response. Did she have any clue what that smile did to him?
When she returned several minutes later, Derick had a modest blaze going.
He watched her pick her way toward him, her bare feet sinking in the sand with each step. Her hair was twined and twisted away from her face—all she needed to complete the picture of a Dutch milkmaid was an apron and wooden shoes. Flyaway hairs had worked themselves loose during the course of the day and carelessly framed her face. Her sweater kept slipping off one shoulder.
Derick couldn’t help thinking back to his initial reaction on finding himself face-to-face with his ex. She hadn’t been the girl he remembered—the one he’d tried and failed to wipe from his mind and heart. He’d barely recognized her. But now he could see that it wasn’t because she was somehow less; it was because his own heart had wasted in her absence and diminished him. He had seen her through darkened eyes, dimmed by what he assumed to be unrequited love. But now, when he looked at Hanna he didn’t just see her. He saw into her—into her heart and its limitless capacity for love. Her physical beauty was just a perk.
Tearing his eyes away before she caught him staring, Derick ripped the marshmallows open and impaled a couple with his stick. “The boys conked out fast.”
Hanna looked up from her occupation of peeling Ghirardelli caramel chocolate squares and placing them on graham crackers. “Swimming wears them out pretty good. Hopefully they’ll sleep all night.”
Popping the top of his Coke with a “psh,” he took a good-sized gulp. “I spiked their root beer with Benadryl, so you should be good.”
Hanna choked on her Coke, laughing as she wiped the brown dribble off her chin. Derick lazed back against a chunk of driftwood and clunked his can against Hanna’s in a toast. “To drugging the future generation!”
“To vacation from vacation!” Hanna added, and they both laughed.
“Come on,” Derick reasoned. “You know a whole weekend with me more than makes up for seventy-two hours with the boys.”
Hanna uncurled the marshmallow bag and skewered one on the end of her roaster. “It’s not a bad trade,” she admitted with a shrug.
Was she teasing him? Not nice. Derick sandwiched his marshmallows between the crackers and pinched.
Hanna did the same, moaning when she took the first gooey bite. “S’mores with caramel and chocolate? I may never use boring old Hershey bars again.”
“It was a good idea,” Derick agreed. “Remind me to thank Sophie for her Pinterest addiction.”
She giggled, and Derick noticed her sweater slipping off her shoulder again. The sight made him feel as if a marshmallow was lodged in his esophagus.
Three s’mores later, Hanna sat back with a groan. “I’m done.” She had a smudge of caramel on her bottom lip. He watched her until she reddened from his scrutiny, adjusting her sweater and tucking some hair behind her ear. The sweater slipped again.
When Hanna looked up to find his eyes still on her, she scowled. “What?”
I was just thinking how stunningly beautiful you are. “You’re pretty.”
Splotches surfaced on her face and neck like newborn strawberries as she turned her head away.
“And also, you have caramel on your face.”
Her hands twitched to hastily wipe at her chin and cheeks. But the caramel was still there, calling to him.
“Here, let me . . .” He reached out, pressing the pad of his thumb to her lip. At his touch, the tendons of her pale throat stood out as her breathing sped up, and the strawberries ripened. Pretty didn’t begin to describe her, but Derick wasn’t sure any word in the English language would. His fingers skimmed down her cheek as he dropped his hand, and a song he’d heard on the radio echoed through his mind: “hanging by a moment here with you . . .”
Since the day they had knocked heads on the beach, there had been so many moments. This one might have turned into something else if Hanna’s phone had not trilled from her pocket, causing them both to jump. Flustered, she answered the call.
“Hey, Mary . . . yeah, they’re fine . . . sleeping.”
Why did Mary have to choose this moment to become a concerned parent? Derick started gathering the trash while Hanna assured her sister that she was holding down the fort. She didn’t mention that it was a floating fort, which was probably wise. After reassuring Mary at least twice that things were well at home, Hanna finally disconnected.
“Sorry about that,” she said, looking around for any wrappers Derick might have missed.
“How are the lovebirds doing?”
Hanna was about to answer when a muffled wailing drifted from the boat. “That’s Walter,” she said with an apologetic smile, then went inside to check on him.
Derick watched her go, feeling as if another one of those moments had just passed them by.
THIRTY-TWO
STARFISH OUT of WATER
A lady, without a family, was the very best preserver of furniture in the world.
—Jane Austen, Persuasion
The following morning, over a breakfast of crisp bacon and syrup-smothered pancakes, Derick asked, “What do you guys feel like doing today?”
“Crescent Beach is supposed to be gorgeous, but it’s on the other side of the island,” Sophie answered. “Sailing over there would probably take a good chunk of time.”
Derick pulled out the map he’d picked up at the marina when they arrived. “Looks like there’s only a narrow strip of land between us and Crescent Beach. There are trails all over the island. Walking would definitely be faster.” He turned to Hanna. “We could take turns carrying Walter.”
She nodded, surprised at his intuition. Normally people unsaddled with children didn’t think of such things. “It sounds great.”
“I’m going to need a walk to burn off all these calories,” Adam declared, sitting back and rubbing his stomach.
Derick delivered the empty plates to the sink. “Sis, if you’ll pack up some food and Adam can get the snorkel gear ready, we should be able to go soon.”
“What about me?” Hanna protested.
“You just sit there and look pretty,” Derick told her with a wink.
Hanna ignored the assignment, instead washing dishes while Sophie packed the food. Had he just called her pretty again? She knew it was a cliché, sit there and look pretty, so she couldn’t put much stock in the words. But last night he told her she was pretty—and the look on his face coupled with the tone of his voice left her in no doubt of his sincerity. The only problem was, it didn’t make any sense to her.
In about a half-hour, armed with everything but the galley sink, th
e party set off across one of the trails toward Crescent Beach. True to his word, Derick set Walter on his shoulders, holding onto his pudgy little ankles as they made their way across the island. It didn’t take CJ long to realize he was getting the crap end of the deal, so Derick handed Walter off to Adam and gave CJ the coveted place of honor. Hanna stifled a laugh at the look of alarm on Adam’s face. He might as well have been handed a poisonous snake. Cradling Walter awkwardly, he looked on the verge of dropping the squirming toddler when Sophie took pity on her husband, grabbing Walter around the middle and planting him atop Adam’s shoulders. Adam grimaced in self-deprecation, and the look that passed between him and Sophie made Hanna feel as if she’d walked in on them kissing.
The trip out to Crescent Beach took only a short while. The view that engulfed Hanna once they came over the top of the hill made her forget how to breathe. The water, ranging from light aqua to deep blue, was breathtaking—almost Caribbean against the backdrop of sugary sand. A curtain of variegated green spilled over the craggy cliffs, the feathery blades of grass swaying in the breeze.
Since they’d had such a big breakfast and no one was hungry yet, the unanimous decision was to snorkel first and eat later. Walter wasn’t old enough to snorkel, so Sophie offered to stay on the beach with him while the others went.
Hanna had never been snorkeling before, and breathing through her mouth took some getting used to. But once the novelty of it wore off, she found herself rather enjoying the sensation of weightlessness. The variety of sea life was amazing, all sorts of colorful fish, plants that swayed peacefully in the current, and coral in all shapes and sizes. The underwater colors weren’t quite as vibrant as Hanna had expected, but that was bound to happen when her only frame of reference was Finding Nemo. All four of them were fascinated by the appearance of a sea turtle, which swam obligingly in front of them and then glided away. Adam, Derick, and CJ followed, and Hanna determined to check on Sophie and Walter.
“Done already?” Sophie asked as Hanna joined them.
“I thought I’d see if you wanted to trade places.”
Sophie waved a hand. “I’m not big on snorkeling. I had a bad experience with it once.”
Hanna raised her eyebrows. “Do tell.”
“The first time I went we were in the Caribbean with Adam’s parents, I accidentally touched a sea urchin—you know, those pokey black things? Anyway, I got one of the spines in my finger—it felt like a bee sting times ten,” Sophie grinned at the memory. “Adam’s dad tried to take it out with tweezers but it just kept going further in, so then he tried a needle.”
Hanna winced.
“Yeah,” Sophie agreed. “Nothing worked, so finally we looked it up in one of the books onboard. Turns out you’re not supposed to remove the spines. They dissolve on their own.”
“Wow,” Hanna laughed. “Note to self: avoid sea urchins while snorkeling.”
“Or wear gardening gloves,” Sophie added sagely.
Walter wandered over to his aunt, proudly displaying the sand-packed bucket in his hand. Then he plopped himself on Sophie’s lap with a soggy squelch.
Hanna was about to apologize when she saw the look on Sophie’s face. She squeezed Walter, placing a kiss on the top of his head. Before Hanna could stop the words, or consider their impertinence, she said, “You would be the best mom, Sophie.”
An awkward beat of silence passed in which Hanna wished she could recall the words. Then Sophie said, “I don’t imagine motherhood is easy, but . . . I always wanted to have kids.”
Hanna had no clue what to say to this. She had wondered why the Crofts had no children, but as it was sort of a taboo subject, she never asked Derick. Seeing as Sophie just brought it up, she felt comfortable enough to ask. “No luck?”
“We tried for a long time—years and years. Every month was a new heartbreak when we didn’t get pregnant.” She brushed some sand off Walter’s face. “After a while it was all we were about anymore. It was like we’d forgotten what brought us together in the first place.”
“Did you ever think about adopting?”
Sophie shrugged. “It didn’t really occur to us at the time. Neither of us wanted to admit the possibility that we couldn’t have our own kids, you know? It would mean that we had failed in some way. I think I felt that way more than Adam, though. I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I would never carry my own child. But when I saw the impact my grief was having on my husband, I decided it was time to let go.”
Mary had never been mother of the year, but seeing her parenting through Sophie’s eyes was appalling. How awful it must have been to watch children being neglected and taken for granted, when you had none of your own to cherish.
“Anyway, we’re probably too old now. The best hope I have is living vicariously through Derick, if he ever gets on the ball,” she said with a sidelong glance at Hanna.
“You are most certainly not too old!” Hanna countered, hoping her crimson cheeks were misinterpreted as indignation over Sophie’s age. “You and Adam have so much to give, any judge would be out of his mind if he didn’t see it.”
A tolerant smile lit Sophie’s face as she turned to Hanna. “Maybe,” she allowed. “But after all we’ve been through I don’t see us going down that road. It’s a sizable investment of time and emotions, not to mention money—with only a chance of success.”
Hanna could see Sophie’s point. Filling out all the paperwork and putting up the money would be committing to the process emotionally and opening herself up for possible heartbreak. “I get that, but don’t you think it would be worth it in the end?”
Sophie digested the question but didn’t answer.
“A couple who would make such stellar parents owes it to the world of orphaned children to try, at least,” Hanna pressed.
Sophie eyed her for a moment, as if she were sizing her up. “My brother is right about you, you know. You’re spunky.”
Hanna decided to take it as a compliment, and didn’t ask Sophie what she meant even though her curiosity was piqued. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything—I know it’s a really personal thing. I just don’t think you should give up yet.”
Sophie watched Walter for a moment, then looked up at the approach of the men. CJ was practically jogging to keep up with Adam’s long strides. “I’ll think on it.”
With that, Sophie stood and draped a towel around her husband’s shoulders. There was something so automatic in the gesture, so selfless and basic, that it pricked Hanna’s eyes with tears. Feeling lame, she stood and held out a folded towel to Derick. Drops of saltwater fell from his strawberry hair and landed on his shoulders, dribbling over his sculpted abdomen. He looked as though he was part sea-god or something—and she was nothing more than a sea-cucumber.
“Thanks,” he said, tucking the towel under an arm. “I got you something.”
“You did?” Hanna asked, curiosity eclipsing her gravity.
Derick grinned at her reaction, then opened his hand to reveal a tiny starfish.
Hanna gasped in delight. “Won’t it die out of the water?”
Gingerly, Derick transferred the creature to Hanna’s palm. “They can survive out of water, but not for long. I just thought you might like to see a live one.”
The starfish moved, tickling her skin. Positively mesmerized, Hanna asked, “How is it moving?”
Derick sandwiched her hands carefully between his, then flipped them over so that the starfish was on its back. “See all those wormy-looking things? Those are its legs—tiny tubes that fill up with water. It’s how they get around.”
“Like water balloons.”
“Yep.”
“How do they eat, though? I don’t see a mouth . . .”
Derick poked his finger into the sea star’s middle. “This little guy’s mouth is right here.”
“It’s so tiny! How does he get anything through that?”
“They actually project their stomach through that little mouth and devour th
eir prey outside their bodies.”
Derick laughed at the face Hanna made, then made a vice out of his thumb and forefinger and gently picked up the sea star. Its legs curled and twisted in the air, as if in protest.
“Let’s go put him back,” Hanna suggested, still a little wonderstruck.
By the time they returned the starfish to its watery home and made it back to the Crofts, Adam had inhaled his lunch and was eyeing Derick’s sandwich. Before seeing to her own lunch, Hanna reapplied sunscreen so the boys wouldn’t get fried. The wind had picked up since they set out this morning, the tall grass at the top of the bluff waving at them as if in farewell as they returned to the cove. Adam and Sophie were several hundred yards ahead of them, arm-in-arm with their heads together. Hanna wondered if Sophie was telling Adam about the discussion she’d had with Hanna earlier. She hoped so.
CJ skipped alongside Derick, who carried Walter on his shoulders.
“Did you have a good day today?” Derick asked Hanna.
“The best day,” she amended. “I love your sister.”
“She’s all right,” Derick said, and Hanna elbowed him. “What did you guys talk about?”
“Kids, mostly. She told me about their not being able to have children.”
“Really? Huh . . . she doesn’t usually like discussing it.”
“She brought it up,” Hanna assured him. An awkward silence passed. “Did I upset you?”
“Not at all. I just don’t understand how life can be so unfair sometimes, you know?”
“Me either. Adam and Sophie would have been the world’s best parents. Like, ever.”
Derick gave Hanna a lopsided smile. “Did she say anything else?”
Hanna cleared her throat. “That she’d have to live vicariously through you, whenever you have kids,” she said, warming at the memory of Sophie’s sidelong glance.
“Hanna Elliot, I do believe you’re blushing,” Derick said. “Care to tell me why?”
“Not really.”
He laughed, the sound fading into the wind that came over the bluff. On their way back to the Great Salt Pond, the six of them stopped off at one of the gift shops. Hanna told the boys they could each choose one thing. CJ picked up an enormous plush shark—which Hanna refused—then settled for a water gun instead. Walter picked the same thing, and then Sophie ignored Hanna’s decree and bought two giant sharks anyway.
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