by Lisa Ruff
“Look. We’ve got to talk.”
“Sure,” Anna said sarcastically. “Before or after my father serves up the spareribs?”
“Not tonight.” The possibility of having this conversation around her family made his palms sweat. Evan rubbed a hand over his face. “Let’s just get through the meal. We’ll meet tomorrow and…and figure out what to do.”
“Great,” she said sourly. “I’ll look forward to it.”
“All right. Where do you—” He stopped abruptly, realizing that she had hung up on him.
Pulling the phone away from his ear, he stared at it. A red haze of anger surged through him. He threw the phone across the room with all his might. It hit the far wall, just below a photo of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, and exploded into plastic bits that flew off in all directions. Not bothering to check the damage to the wall or his phone, Evan stalked over to the sofa and dropped down onto it. He put his hands over his face and swore in a soft, steady stream.
What the hell was he going to do now?
POINTING HER CAMERA AT the supply shed, Anna checked the viewfinder and let the autofocus do its job. A pause, a click and the image flashed on the screen. Checking it, she decided it would do. Rotating a few degrees, she took another shot and then another, until she had the entire west side of the boatyard captured in pixels. Later, she could stitch them together for a full panorama on her computer. Taking out a small voice recorder, she began dictating notes on the site details.
The routine of working a prospective site—measuring, recording, photographing—calmed Anna. It was a welcome respite from the jolts and surprises she had experienced since arriving in Crab Creek two days ago. The complications and turmoil would no doubt return soon, but for now she was simply Anna Berzani, architect. That’s all she wanted to be for as long as possible.
Pacing off an area near the wood shop, Anna sketched some details on the old site plan that her father had given her. Over twenty-five years old, not much had changed since the original layout, just two new boat sheds and an addition to the paint shop. She could gauge the approximate property lines from the buildings and fences. Later, she would have a surveyor verify that all this dirt really belonged to her parents.
Anna edged her way behind the shop, through a tangle of rusty jack stands and the chain-link fence. A wild-rose bramble creeping through the fence caught at her jeans. She unhooked the thorn and let it spring back out of the way. When she reached the corner of the fence, she sighted down to the water, then turned ninety degrees and looked up toward the front gate. Both fence runs looked pretty straight-line and matched the plan.
Continuing around the building, Anna recorded more observations. Cobwebs clung to her shoulder and neck, irritating her. Brushing them aside, her hand left a streak of dirt on her pale blue T-shirt. A curl of hair worked itself out of her ponytail and she tucked it behind one ear. She was getting dirty, disheveled and sweaty poking around in forgotten corners of the yard, but she promised herself a large bottle of ice-cold water when she finished.
Ideas flashed through her head of what she would design: condos, a restaurant, shops. The site was wider than it was deep, with a long water frontage. The view would be the main feature of any building she created, overlooking the boats and, beyond that, the ever-changing waters of the Chesapeake. Of course the marina would stay. Everyone agreed about that. And about a restaurant: a nice seafood place with a deck. In good weather, folks would flock to it by land and sea.
Picking her way past a pile of lumber, Anna emerged from the shadows of the wood shop, into the dazzling sunlight, and reached for her sunglasses. “Hey.”
The greeting was so startling, so unexpected and so close that Anna’s tape measure, sunglasses, clipboard and the site plan clattered to the ground. She only just managed to save her camera from taking the same tumble. Whirling around, she saw Evan standing a few feet away.
“You scared the bejesus out of me!” she said. As she collected her tools, she kept her face averted, not wanting to reveal how flustered she felt or how hard the blood pulsed through her veins.
Evan grabbed the site plan before the wind blew it away. “Sorry, I thought you saw me.” He looked at the drawing in his hand. “What are you doing?”
“My job,” she replied coolly. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for you.” His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them. He must have slept worse than she had last night. For a moment, Anna almost felt sorry for him. He wore faded jeans, a wrinkled T-shirt that looked slept-in and tennis shoes. Though it was far from his usual elegant attire, he somehow managed to make himself look gorgeous. “We have to talk, Anna.”
Biting her lip, she nodded. They had deliberately steered clear of each other at the barbeque, circling opposite sides of the patio, while trying not to appear too obvious about it. But dodging each other solved nothing. She glanced around the yard. A few workers were at the travel lift, hoisting an old ketch out of the water. Patrick or her father could not be far away. “Not here.”
Evan nodded and turned without a word. He led the way to a dark blue sedan and opened the door for her. She balked and brushed at the dirt and cobwebs on her T-shirt again. “I should go home and change.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head.
“I might dirty the upholstery.”
“It’s mine. Get in.”
Anna slid into the passenger seat as ordered. Evan came around to the other side, started the engine and backed out of the parking spot.
“I thought you only drove sporty convertibles.”
“Meaning what? I’m all flash and no substance?” He had slipped on sunglasses, and she couldn’t read his expression. He let out a humorless laugh. “Isn’t this a better image for an expectant father?”
Looking at her hands knotted together in her lap, Anna couldn’t think of a neutral reply to this. They traveled in silence until he pulled up in front of a small coffee shop two blocks off Main Street. She got out before he could come around, but he closed the door for her, then ushered her inside.
They stepped up to the counter and ordered drinks from a barrista who might be male or female. Anna wasn’t quite sure. He or she ignored Anna and flirted unabashedly with Evan, greeting him by name. The place reminded her of a coffee shop on Geary that she frequented in San Francisco. She felt a pang of homesickness and wished she was there now.
“You apparently come here often,” she observed as they took their drinks and sat at a table in the back.
“I suppose I do. I sold the owner a delivery van a few years ago. We’re not likely to see anyone we know here.”
Anna took a drink of her iced herbal tea. Evan leaned forward, elbows on the table, his eyes on the coffee cup in front of him. Spinning her glass one way, then another, Anna fumbled for a way to begin.
“So, I was thinking—”
“I had a—”
They both spoke and stopped at once.
“You go first,” she told Evan.
“All right.” He cleared his throat, looking at her with wary eyes. “I thought about this all night. First, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re keeping the kid, right?”
Anna wondered how she could take the question the right way. The distance it put between them yawned like a chasm. If she hadn’t known Evan was unhappy about the fix they were in, this proved it. Her heart ached and her stomach clenched in sympathetic pain. She nodded in answer, unable to speak.
“I figured.” Evan sipped his coffee. “So. You’ll need money to do this right and I—”
“I have money, Evan.” Anger helped Anna find her voice. “A home, too, and a good job with benefits.”
“Yeah, but you won’t be able to work for a while. When you do go back, the kid’s going to need a nanny or day care, something like that. I can set up a trust fund. That way you won’t have to worry about expenses and when college comes around—”
“I’m three weeks pregnant, Evan. I don’t
think we need to worry about college yet.”
“Well, you’ll be alone and I just thought that…” His voice trailed off as he looked at her. “I mean, you’ll be in California and I’ll be here.”
“I’m thinking about moving back,” she said, watching him closely.
He blinked once and took a drink of his coffee before replying in an even tone, “That makes sense. Your mother will love it. Pop, too. And I’ll be around to help as much as I can.”
She stared at him, eyes narrowed. “That sounds almost like being a father.”
“I am the father,” Evan said.
“Is this how a real father acts? Funny, I thought there’d be more of a celebration. Cigars, maybe.” Anna shook her head. “All I’ve seen is you pretending you’re not involved.”
“You think I want to deceive your family like this? If I knew a clean way out, I’d take it in a heartbeat,” he said in an irritated snap. His eyes smoldered with frustration.
Now she was getting a reaction, one that shook her. Her fingers clenched on her cup, then she pointed to the door. “So, there’s the way out. Take it.”
Evan sat back. Raking a hand through his hair, his fingers ruffled the blond strands, leaving some of them sticking straight up. He looked as though he was on the verge of taking her offer and walking away.
“I take full responsibility for what happened, Annie.” He met her gaze with his own, the anger in his voice tightly reined. “We can do joint parenting, partial custody, whatever. My dad had me part-time after the divorce, so I know the basic rules of the game.”
“There are rules? Like what?” she asked sourly. “You get weekend outings and I take the day-to-day child rearing?”
“No. It wouldn’t be like that.” He leaned forward again and lowered his voice. “I’ll support you however you want and give you whatever you need.”
The conversation felt surreal. It was not at all what she had expected, or hoped. But why should she be surprised? When had Evan McKenzie said or done what anyone expected? She pushed her tea to one side, laying her hands flat on the table. The wood was rough under her fingertips, scarred by carvings through layers of varnish.
“Whatever I need,” Anna repeated. She held his gaze with her own.
“Anything. Just ask.”
“Would you marry me?”
Evan stared back at her. She saw first confusion, then surprise, then something that came close to disgust. He shook his head. “No. Anything but that.”
Anna nodded, not surprised. Still, she lowered her head, blinking back tears that threatened. When she had herself under control, she looked into his eyes, bright green against pale skin. Her gaze traced his face. She was reminded how he appeared yesterday in her parents’ kitchen: a hunted animal, trapped, cornered, ready to bite and claw to defend itself.
“Then I don’t need anything from you, Evan,” she said softly.
“What are we going to tell your parents?”
As painful as it was, his question told her where his principal concerns lay. “I’ll tell them that this child is mine and I’ll raise it on my own. Don’t worry. It’s our secret. Something we’ll share forever.”
With that, she stood and walked out of the coffee shop. Outside in the sunlight, she suddenly realized she had come here in Evan’s car and had no transportation back. She didn’t turn around, didn’t ask for his aid. She was alone now. She had better start getting used to it.
Chapter Eight
Rain streaked the huge plate-glass showroom windows. A tropical depression had drifted northward and hung over the mid-Atlantic region, drenching it. Southerly winds were pushing the waters of the Chesapeake up to meet swollen rivers and streams. Flash-flood warnings were posted for parts of the northern counties. The dismal weather perfectly echoed Evan’s mood. Both had stunk since Anna’s departure one week ago.
The showroom was quiet and the car lot deserted. Brett, the only other person there, manned a desk, on the remote chance that a customer would appear, or at least call. Evan bet no one would show up this afternoon.
“You don’t have to stick around,” Evan said, turning his head toward the other man. “This rain’s going to kill business. We’ll hope it lets up this weekend.”
“I’m just catching up on paperwork,” Brett said. “Besides, if I go home, my wife’ll be on me.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“The usual,” the other man said with a shrug. “‘Honey, do this,’ ‘honey, do that.’”
“The usual.” Evan muttered the words to himself as he turned back to watch the rain streak down the windows.
How many times had he heard just that phrase—or worse—from his married friends and acquaintances? How many people were just marking time in their relationships, feeling stuck, but unable to break free? Or were they simply unwilling? Maybe it was lethargy or ignorance. He didn’t know, but he knew he didn’t want the same for himself. He also knew marrying Anna for the sake of their child was the worst thing he could do. He would feel trapped, forever trying to escape. Just like his father.
He wished some prospect would show up to look at a car. Even a tire-kicking time-waster asking innumerable idiotic questions with no intention of buying a car would be welcome right now. He considered letting Brett cover the floor, but what would Evan do then? Sailing was out, so was running or biking. He could sit at home and let the walls close in, but that wasn’t any different from what he was doing here. At least the showroom had volume; it took a while for claustrophobia to set in—or whatever it was he was feeling.
As he brooded, a car pulled up outside. Headlights flashed through the mist, briefly sparkling across the cars parked inside the showroom. Finally, some distraction from the tumult inside his own head. Pulling his hands from his pockets, Evan absently straightened his tie. The driver stepped out of his car and made a quick dash for the portico over the double doors. The prospect had his hood up against the rain, but it was a man, older. Judging by the cut of his clothes, he probably had money, but not loaded. Of course you could never tell. Evan had learned that.
Evan noticed that Brett had perked up, as well. He had risen from his desk and slipped on his jacket, ready for action. With a wave of his hand, Evan motioned to him. Brett grinned and sat down again, pretending to be busy with some contract. The signal was simple: let him come to us. Bad enough that they were bored, there was no need to let the customer know that, too.
The red raincoat came through the door. A large hand brushed back the hood. The welcoming smile on Evan’s face faded as Antonio Berzani revealed himself. What had brought him out on such a miserable day? Was it Anna? The baby? Had she finally told Antonio who had fathered her child? Since Anna’s departure, Evan hadn’t seen Antonio or any of the Berzanis. After all these years of finding a second home with them, that security was gone. He couldn’t tell him what he had done. He couldn’t hurt them that way. Nor could he bear losing their love. So he had steered clear of them. Now, seeing Antonio, a wave of dread washed over Evan.
Surreptitiously, he wiped his sweating palms against his trousers and put on his game face. “Pop! What brings you out in this weather?”
“I need to speak with you,” Antonio said, solemnly clasping Evan’s hand and squeezing it firmly. His dark eyes held a message Evan couldn’t interpret. “About Anna.”
A line of sweat popped out on Evan’s forehead. He had avoided divulging the truth for too long. Now it had come calling at his door. “Ah…sure. Let’s go in my office. Brett, take the floor.”
Brett buttoned his jacket and replaced Evan at his post by the window. In his private office, Evan took Antonio’s coat as the older man shrugged it off. He hung it behind the door.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
“No. Nothing for me.”
Antonio plopped into one of the cushy chairs before the desk. Evan sat behind it. His stomach was in knots, but he tried to act brave. “What’s this about Anna, Pop?”
“I cannot
let this endure another minute.” Antonio banged a fist on Evan’s desk. “I must have the truth!”
Evan nearly jumped out of his chair. “I was going to tell—”
“So you do know!” Antonio interrupted triumphantly.
“Well, ah…” Evan fumbled to a halt.
His brain caught up with his panic, slowing his confession. Why wasn’t Antonio coming across the desk at him? He should be furious, at the least. But his face wore a look of zealous inquiry, not wrath. Evan stared at the older man as a rush of giddy relief flooded through him: Antonio did not know the truth after all.
Antonio hardly noticed Evan’s stammered reply. “Tell me the name of this scoundrel,” he demanded, shaking a finger at Evan. “He must fulfill his duty to my daughter.”
Evan scrambled for a way to back out. “I just…well…Let’s just say I have a suspect in mind. But I…I don’t want to accuse an innocent man.”
Antonio scowled at this. “It does not matter. The name of a dishonorable man is worthless anyway. But he is in San Francisco?”
“He was,” Evan felt obligated to say.
“I knew it!”
“Hold on a second, Pop. Last time I spoke with Anna, she had decided to raise the baby on her own.”
“That is what she thinks.” Antonio tapped a finger to his forehead, his dark eyes glittering. “We are going to change her mind.”
“We are?”
“Yes. We are going to San Francisco—”
Evan sat up straight. “Us? Wait a minute—”
“—and restore my daughter’s honor.”
“But how—”
Antonio shrugged, as if a particular strategy mattered little. “We will talk to her. You have a rapport with Anna.”
“No, I don’t. We fight constantly.”
“True, you and she have always squabbled. It is natural, like a brother and sister. But the day we discussed developing the marina, the ideas flew from the two of you. First one, then the other, as if you were one mind.” Antonio pointed a finger at Evan. “It was clear. You understand her as no one else does. I considered asking Patrick or Ian, but I have thought it through carefully. You are the one who must go.”