“Do you? You came here to run away from your past, but you brought it with you.”
“I don’t have to listen-”
“And you keep recycling the same old bullshit with these choices you’re making! You push me away even though I’m trying to help you. You lie when you don’t have to. You promise to give yourself to that user again. Delilah, why?”
Sam’s eyes penetrated me. I desperately wanted to move away from him. I tried, but he blocked me with his hands on the counter. I leaned against the sink and folded my arms.
“Why?” he repeated, “when all you have to do is say no? So what if the news comes out? Whatever fight you have to face, whether it be against murder charges or public opinion, it has to be better than compromising yourself. At least you wouldn’t be fighting alone.”
“I’m only doing what I have to do,” I defended weakly. Sam shook his head, disappointed. I pushed by him, and added, “I’m desperate, and tired, and you’re crushing me!”
“Crushing you?” Sam repeated, following me to the door. “I’ve done nothing but support you, and all I get is your distrust. I’ve been worried sick about your safety, and you ignore me. I’m falling in love with you, again, and you’ve promised to give yourself away to someone you don’t love for the sake of a stupid secret? I’m the one who’s crushed, Delilah.”
He didn’t say anything else, but strode to the door and left without even looking at me.
I collapsed on the bed, drained. Tears plummeted from my eyes. Willie jumped up on the bed with me and rested against my shoulder.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Priorities
A single domino falling isn’t a spectacle, but stand a series up and you have a show. Destructive, beach-eroding waves are the same way. One doesn’t do much damage, but string a few together and you have a new shoreline.
I answered my phone in a half-greeting.
“Becker’s on the phone to Lewis right now,” Jonathan reported. “You sound terrible. Been drinking?”
“Shut-up,” I returned. “What time is it?”
“Time for you to get a watch,” he chuckled. I hung up on him and called Clark.
“Clark, when is the latest you can submit news for tomorrow’s edition?”
“Everything’s electronic,” he told me. “I can make changes up until about 5:00 or so.”
“Should you decide to make any changes concerning me today,” I started, “would you call and let me know?”
“What changes might I be making?”
“Seriously, will you call me and just let me know?”
After two more attempts at trying to get the information out of me, he agreed, and I hung up. My violent past would end up being announced in either tomorrow’s paper (worst case) or Saturday’s (best case) and I would be booted back up to the top of the suspect pool again.
The items on my list – to first open the store and second to solve this murder – wouldn’t get scratched off before I got kicked off the island. The terrors of Tipee were mounting against me, baring their fangs and sharpening their claws. I’d be torn to smithereens by a murder I didn’t commit, a feud I didn’t start, and mistakes I thought I’d left far behind me.
I breathed out heavily and smiled. With all this reality about to drown me, all I could think was, “Damn it, Teague.” I didn’t care.
I cared about Great Aunt Laura’s store, my future, and helping Darryl Chambers (especially since he could no longer help himself). These were things that were obviously crucial for my life, but at the moment all I could do was think of him.
Strangely, Sam had always been on my mind, through every bad boyfriend and every lonely night. Even in the joys and triumphs, there had been a back-of-my-mind longing for him, a wish to go back to that one perfect day.
So, as I was examining my priorities, it all came down to one. If I had to choose one thing to work out right (and that would be a stretch at this rate), I’d have to say Sam Teague.
I stared at the ceiling. The afternoon sun beat through the side windows, warming my face. I could almost feel the sand on my fingertips. I remembered that day as vividly as if I was still in it, soaking it up. I didn’t want to let it go.
After practicing popping up on the board and listening to Teague give me general instructions about surfing, all while standing on the beach, he told me it was time to try it – to get into the water. In all fairness, he’d been extremely patient with me. I’d talked his ears off, thanks to my anxious energy, and made him explain everything at least twice. What he didn’t know is that I had been stalling.
Every time I glanced out at the water, fear swelled in me. You’d think that ten years would be enough time to get over a pesky near-death experience. Not quite.
He held the board under his right arm, and stood shoulder to shoulder with me, staring out at the great expanse, me feeling as though we were about to plunge off a high cliff and unable to muster the courage to take the first step. I remember taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly.
“Ready?” he’d asked. I looked over at him, and he smiled. The hang-ups and insecurities circling through my head dissipated. Sam Teague took my hand, and led me into the ocean.
The truth is rarely pure and never simple.
Later that day, we’d set the blanket out and then laid down next to each other. “So, what do you do when you get fed up with your mom and you need to escape?” he’d asked. “I get lost in pages,” I’d said, “I can’t go anywhere, so I read. What do you do?” “I’m lucky. I can go anywhere, but my favorite spot is the marina. Watch the boats go in and out. Relaxes me.”
“Okay, God,” I said aloud. “If he’s there, then that means I should make this right. If he’s not there, then whatever.” I gathered Clark’s file in my bag and left the apartment with Willie in tow.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Marina
From the ocean, the ICW brings the sea into the Cape Fear River through a series of inlets. The largest one cuts into Tipee like a slice in a cake, about a mile, giving waterfront views to the whole other side of the island and allowing for a huge boat parking lot called Tipee Island Marina, which used to be owned by Grandpa Charlie until he retired. A host of fishing boats occupied one great side of piers. Charter boats and family-owned leisure boats filled up all the spaces in between, hundreds of vessels. Sailboats. Cabin cruisers. Yachts. Catamarans. There’s even one houseboat.
Toward the afternoon, the charter boats and fishing vessels arrive home, bringing their catches, which they toss on the decks to ready for weighing and cleaning. Bystanders enjoy seeing what the fishermen have brought in, and the fishermen are keen on showing it off. News of great catches travels fast, and will even be printed in the paper along with pictures.
“This is going to be a complete waste of time,” I assured Willie. I circled around the crescent moon shaped area, and found a parking space in the gravel lot near the seafood market. I got out and pulled Willie along with me.
The tide was low, and the air a comforting mix of marshes and fish. I walked the length of the first pier, sandwiched by two great fishing boats painted with the names of ladies and adorned with ropes and gear. No Teague.
The second pier was the same, though Willie was excited to see a crab clinging to the piling amid a smattering of barnacles. He barked until I could pull him out of sight.
The more piers we went down, the smaller the boats became, and the more my hope diminished.
“Willie, this was a dumb idea,” I told him finally. “Guess that means whatever. Right, God?” I looked up at the sky. I shrugged and turned Willie around to head back to the Jeep.
That’s when I saw him.
Teague sat on a bench near the base of the dock, looking out over the whole marina. It took my breath away a little, to see him there. I’d been wrong about so many things, and to be right about this one, well, I didn’t expect it.
“Okay, I have to fix this. Come on, Willie. Be extra cute and cuddly for me.”
> Willie and I made our way over to where he was sitting. Willie greeted him with a lick to the face. I decided to reward Willie later with an extra dog treat or two. Sam smiled, wearily, and I sat next to him. I looked out over the expanse of boats, lightly bobbing in the water, and could see what he meant. It was relaxing.
“Sam, the first time I saw you,” I began, “the very first time, wasn’t at my grandparents’ house when you came to pick me up.” A light smile slipped across Sam’s face as he glanced over at me.
“It was in the funhouse at Jubilee Park. Candy and I decided to go one night not long after I arrived in town. But, every time I turned around, Candy disappeared – bathroom or snack bar or whatever, but without saying anything first. She’d be gone for a while, leaving me waiting and wondering. Well, it got pretty irritating, so I finally decided to go on without her. The funhouse.”
“I circled around the place, sort of half-enjoying the illusions, wasn’t as fun since I was alone. I decided to bail halfway in, worried that I might miss Candy. I took a shortcut, and ended up in a room full of mirrors.”
I smiled, staring down at my feet. “One-way mirrors. I could see out, but no one could see in. I even went back later to make sure.”
“What happened?” he prodded.
“You happened,” I answered simply. “You came into view on my left side, you and a couple of your friends. You were carrying a little brown teddy bear with a red bow tie.”
“I won it in a ring toss game.”
“You remember?” I asked surprised.
He nodded, looking almost shyly down at his feet. “Must have been the bear that caught your eye, huh?”
I laughed. “It was very cute.”
A boat’s engine roared to life on the docks, and the driver eased it out of its space. A few piers down, a charter boat was loading up passengers and preparing to set off, untying ropes and settling their guests.
“At the last mirror,” I reported, “you stopped. Your friends slipped out behind you, and you just stood there, where I was. We were inches apart, separated by floor to ceiling glass, and you looked right at me. I put my hand up on the mirror, and you did the same thing, right on top of mine like, like magic.”
I raised my hand to the air, mimicking the memory. I stared at the slats of wood on the pier, afraid to look at him. “You couldn’t have known I was there, but somehow, you did. And your smile just drew me in.”
I stopped talking long enough for him to chime in if he wanted. I glanced sideways at him, spotting his smile and the hint of blushing on his face.
I grinned. “Your friends called you away, so I found my way out, and searched for you. I had no plan, no hope of talking to you. My mother’s overprotection had instilled me with insecurity, though she liked to call it shyness. Anyway, I caught up and just watched you and your friends walking along, through the maze of game booths and food vendors. Then you did something that really clinched it-”
Teague smiled. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“You remember the little girl?” I went on. He nodded. “Whatever set that girl off with her fat tears, well, I don’t know, but you slipped her the bear, so slyly that no one saw, not her parents, not your friends, and she stopped crying. My heart just leapt. Your friends had called you Sam. Candy found me again, and I told her what happened. She thought I was nuts, but she said, ‘You must be talkin’ about that Sam Teague. I think God spun ‘em outta gold’.”
I sighed, looking out over the boatyard with a full heart and nervous stomach. “Sam, I don’t know what happened thirteen years ago to keep us apart, but I know what brought us together and maybe that’s more important.”
Sam smiled. “You’ve trumped my story.”
“Ah, yours was good, too,” I consoled with a laugh. I breathed out heavily and played with the hem of my shirt. “You were right, Sam. I’m sorry-”
“I shouldn’t have said those things,” he returned in a breath.
I stood up and took three steps to the edge of the dock, glancing over the side to spy on the murky water. “Why not? Every decision I’ve made since I’ve been here has been based on fear and desperation – definitely not who I am, or who I want to be. I’ve lied to you, lied to keep my secrets, sold myself out to Jonathan, again, even flirted with Mike knowing full-well that I-” I stopped talking, my confession bearing down on me like the sun’s heat on my shoulders.
“Knowing what?” Sam urged.
I hesitated. A fish jumped just beyond the boat in front of us, sending rings echoing away from the spot, bigger and bigger until they vanished. I turned around to face Teague, who eyed me from the bench.
“Sam, for every single thought I have of him, I have thousands more of you,” I said, staring at the uneven planks of wood at my feet. “And it’s always been that way. No man’s ever spent time with me without having to vie for my attention, even if he didn’t know it. My thoughts always come back to you.”
I turned back to the canal, afraid to face him when I said, “I’m not sure how, but I’ll fix it, all of it, and I’ll be the kind of girl you can believe in again.” Teague met me at the edge of the dock, and didn’t hesitate to slip his hands around my waist.
“You already are.” I turned in his arms. The side of his mouth edged up into a smile and he leaned into me, touching his forehead to mine and delving into my eyes. He didn’t kiss me. It would have been easy to get lost in kisses. Rather, he just looked at me, and I let myself see him. What I found there, in his soulful eyes and kind smile, was something unfamiliar. I was used to certain looks from men – curious, playful, wanton looks that I mistook for affection. What I saw when Sam looked at me was perhaps a mingling of those things, but mostly his look was sincere, adoring, even loving.
“Whatever happens next, let’s just face it together,” he suggested.
And in spite of the mental naysayers beating me up inside, I breathed out a heavy, “Okay.”
“Come with me,” Teague said. “Let’s go for a ride.” He nodded toward one of the boats docked along the pier. I cast him a confused look.
“Huh? You mean a boat ride?”
“It’ll be fun,” he said, “and Willie’ll love it. Let’s go.”
“You have a boat?”
“I have access to a boat.”
“You remember what I said, right? About not swimming and all that?” I reminded him.
“You won’t have to swim,” he replied with a grin. “You’ll be in a boat. Delilah, you know you’re safe with me. You never have to worry.”
I took his hand.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Wake
Signs posted around the marina clearly read No Wake and I felt, as I stepped into the boat, that this might be one of the bad dreams for which there was no wake. Of course, I knew what it really meant. In the close vicinity of so many parked boats, moving boats had to keep a low speed, thus producing no wake or water disturbance behind them. Otherwise, the wake ripples across the water, gaining swells, and causes the boats to shimmy against the docks.
“Nervous?” Teague asked, making himself comfortable in the blue and white, eighteen-foot bow rider. I nodded. Willie jumped on excitedly, and perched on the bow like he was Leonardo DiCaprio, king of the world. I shook my head at my brave dog.
“Grandpa Charlie wanted to take me fishing,” I revealed, “but when I saw how small his boat was, I couldn’t get in. So, we fished from the pier instead.”
Teague chuckled. “Can’t live life on the pier, Delilah.”
The motor churned to life and Teague eased it out of the slip. Slowly, he maneuvered the boat into the inlet, careful not to go too fast. I thought, for a moment, that it wouldn’t be so bad. That is, until the No Wake signs came to an end. Teague pushed the throttle forward, and the boat sprang to a new life, one with a tremendous wake. I held tight to my seat. Teague kept a watchful eye on me. I tried to hide my anxiety, but there was no use. I was clinging to the chair. Finally, Teague stopped t
he boat, and extended his hand to me.
“Come here,” he said.
“No.”
“Come here,” he insisted, grabbing my arm. The floor of the boat vibrated beneath my feet. I crossed over and Teague pulled me in front of him, facing the wheel.
“The problem is that you feel out of control,” he told me. He put my left hand on the wheel and my right hand on the throttle. “Boats are really easy to drive. Slowly push the throttle forward.”
He guided my hands, and suddenly, I was driving. The boat skirted across the glassy water, and I sped up. Trees and houses skimmed by along the shorelines. The wind whipped across my face. My shoulders relaxed.
“Keep the boat in between the two buoys,” he instructed over my shoulder, pointing out the red and green buoys on either side ahead. “Good. See? Easy. Feel any better?”
I nodded. There was something distinctly powerful about the feel of the boat, the way it pulsed through the water, much different than driving a car. I could feel the resistance reverberating throughout the hull and deck, up my legs, and through my body. I sped up. Teague chuckled. He gathered my long hair in his hand and pulled it to the side, out of his face. His lips brushed my neck and I rested against him.
I curved away from the Atlantic, toward the Cape, following the markers as Teague instructed. We entered the large belly of the Cape Fear River, and seeing that there were no boats nearby, I turned gently, doing a doughnut. Willie barked, delighted at the spray that doused his fur.
“I see you’re getting the hang of it,” Teague laughed. “Hold on for the wake.”
“Oh, shit,” I said. Up and down we went, the boat suddenly feeling entirely too small. My stomach flip-flopped and the nervous feelings flooded back. I turned my back on the cresting swells, and grabbed on to Teague.
“It’s okay,” he said, taking the controls. He steered us through, while I buried my head in his chest. Boating over smooth water was one thing. Swells made for a whole new experience. A moment later, we were on top of glassy water again, and I lifted my head. A soft smile alighted on Teague’s face.
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Page 23