by Pamela Fryer
* * *
The room was definitely small. One window looked out over the street, so high an intruder would have to use a twenty-foot ladder just to peek over the bottom sill. Inside, a small box underneath held an emergency rope ladder in case of fire. To exit quickly, she only had to flip open the swinging pane and toss the ladder out the window. It would be difficult climbing with only one hand, but the ladder was reassuring anyhow. She could escape quickly if her life depended on it.
The room was at the end of a long hall, past two storage rooms and Gran Millie’s office. Crates of extra supplies lined one side of the hall. At the opposite end, Gran Millie’s full-sized apartment spanned the other half of the second floor.
The door was strong and had a slide bolt, dead bolt, and a locking knob. The tiny room was a combination bedroom-bathroom, with an antique clawfoot bathtub and a pedestal sink under a small mirror. The day bed sat against the far wall.
“I’ll get the sheets,” Gran Millie said. With a glance at Geoffrey, she scurried off.
“I told you it was small.”
“It’s cozy,” she said, hopping onto the bed. Squeaky bedsprings shrieked. Someone had put the bed there precisely for the view of the ocean. From this angle, she couldn’t see the highway separating them from the marina and jetty, just the tips of some of the taller masts, and miles and miles of blue.
“Can I change your mind?”
She shook her head, smiling. August wished this wasn’t so hard on him. It was hard on her, too, and she hovered on the verge of changing her mind already. But her reasons were the wrong ones. A romantic relationship was impossible until she remembered her past.
And then...she forced her fears away. One day at a time. Wasn’t that what Alcoholics Anonymous taught?
“Will you at least come back to the house to pick what you want to bring?”
She hopped off the bed, crossed the room and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Absolutely.”
* * *
Geoffrey awoke to a painfully quiet house. Since Derek’s shift washing dishes at the Mirthful Mermaid was from two until eleven, he would be asleep until noon.
Geoffrey threw his arm up over his brow. He had learned Derek was working there only after August had decided to move out. The idea sat like sour milk. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but he definitely didn’t trust Derek.
He stared back at his reflection after brushing his teeth. August was smart and strong. Even if Derek were to “put the moves on her,” as he so charmingly put it, August would put him in his place. Still, Geoffrey didn’t like it. He’d developed strong feelings for her, and he missed her. He would even say he loved her, if he were to speak his feelings aloud.
His skeptical reflection stared back at him. He wasn’t quite ready to admit as much to himself, out loud.
It would be pushy to go down to the restaurant. August needed to work, she needed to occupy her time and her mind, and she needed to be independent.
She needed her space.
Sooner or later, all women said that to him.
He did his best to occupy his time as well, but found the ten a.m. conference call with Portland and New York had been cancelled. His email box was surprisingly empty. He phoned his secretary and sent a message to his linen vendor. Finally, when his stomach rumbled with hunger, he headed to the kitchen.
Derek sat at the table, bleary eyed and haggard. “Dude.” He rubbed at his eyes. “What time is it?”
Geoffrey glanced at the digital clock on the range. “Twelve thirty.”
Derek moaned something incomprehensible, followed by “coffee.”
“Dude.” Geoffrey tipped his chin toward the counter. “There’s the brewer.”
He pulled a loaf of wheat bread, mustard, mayonnaise, and a package of sliced ham out of the refrigerator in one armful.
“Hey—are you going to visit August?”
Geoffrey sliced a tomato and slapped together a quick sandwich using up the last of the ham. “Why?”
“I could use a ride, that’s why.”
All week Derek had been grumbling about riding their dad’s bicycle if he wanted to go to town. Although his father was generally too lenient with Derek, three wrecked cars in two years had put an end to Derek’s driving the family vehicles.
Geoffrey frowned. “It’s mostly downhill.”
“But the way back isn’t.” Derek grinned. “You could go visit her again, say, around ten thirty tonight?”
“Jesus, Derek.” Geoffrey narrowed his gaze at his brother.
“Come on. I’ll buy you a beer. August’ll be happy to see you.”
And he would be happy to see her, too. “Go get dressed. I’ll drop you by.”
“And pick me up, too?”
Geoffrey started off toward his office. “We’ll put your bike on the back of the car.”
When Geoffrey found him ready to go, Derek was on his cell phone with a friend from New York.
He hopped into the front seat and put his foot up on the dash. Geoffrey bit back the urge to say something, but opted for being ignored instead. He listened while Derek complained about his dishwashing job to someone named Roland, and asked about his agent.
“Yeah, I told her I’ll be available again at the first of the month. No, man, I can’t do that, but I’ll do the Fiorenzi show. I don’t care how bad the clothes are. I need the money.”
Geoffrey swallowed a twinge of guilt. Was it wrong for him to be glad his brother would be leaving soon?
At nearly one thirty, the lunch crowd at the Mirthful Mermaid was still in full swing, and busier than Geoffrey had ever seen it.
August was behind the bar, working by herself. Her face brightened when she saw Geoffrey.
“Hey there, handsome.”
“Hi, August,” Derek said.
She slid a narrowed glance at Derek. “I was speaking to Geoffrey. But hey to you, too.”
Amusement bubbled inside him. He slipped onto a barstool. “The place is packed. Are you holding up okay?”
She popped open two bottles of beer with the opener mounted under the bar. “I’m fine. This isn’t exactly a mixed-drink crowd.”
“I’ll have Sex on the Beach,” Derek said, and then laughed at his own wit.
Gran Millie appeared behind the bar with a clean tray of beer glasses. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the kitchen?”
“It’s not two yet,” Derek said in a whiney voice.
“We’re more than busy today and Hector could use the extra help. Git.”
August hid the most adorable smile as Derek muttered under his breath and sidled away.
“You’ve got him under control, Gran Millie,” she whispered.
“I don’t take any gruff from my grandson. He’s dished out far more than his fair share.”
“What about this grandson—does he get a beer on the house?”
“Well, now of course he does. He’s my favorite one.”
“She says that to all of us,” Geoffrey said.
August popped a bottle and slid it over.
“Hey August, how ’bout another Guinness?” someone called from the far end.
“Coming right up, Frank.”
Geoffrey watched as she nimbly held a glass tilted under the tap with her left hand and ran the lever with her right.
When August moved away to serve another customer, Geoffrey found himself under his grandmother’s inquisitive gaze.
“I’m grateful you gave her the chance,” he volunteered before she could say something contradictory.
“She took to it like a fish to water.” Gran looked over at August chatting with the two older men. “She’s worked as a waitress before.”
“That doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care if she cleaned toilets for a living; she’s the only person who’s ever looked at me like I was more than the football captain’s brother.”
“Easy, Geoffrey. First of all, that isn’t true. It’s all in your mind and you know it. All I meant is she�
�s quite capable of hard work. And since she’s done the job before, it might help bring memories back to her.”
He withered. “You think I’m smothering her?”
Gran Millie shook her head and leaned her elbows on the bar. “I think you blame yourself for too much.”
Christina. Even though they were talking about August, she meant Christina just as much. Geoffrey’s chest tightened.
“You’ve done all right by her after the accident and that’s real fine of you, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for her problems with her memory.” She grinned and poked him in the forearm. “The broken arm, that’s your fault. But the amnesia...” She pointed at her temple. “That comes from whatever happened to her before.”
He glanced down the bar. August smiled brightly at another patron who asked for a refill. He said something that made her laugh. A dimple formed in her cheek, and it seemed she gave off her own brand of sunshine. The man grinned back at her like a lovesick fool.
How anyone could hurt that angelic girl was beyond him.
Suddenly Geoffrey knew; he wanted to protect her forever.
“I love her.” He realized too late he’d said it out loud.
He gulped and looked back at his grandmother, but she didn’t appear surprised at all.
“I know you do.”
Chapter Sixteen
Nearly a week had passed since the incident with the police, and Sonja still wasn’t speaking to him.
Graham had called the authorities the night he returned from Seattle. Colin had been exhausted from the drive that night and heartbroken at the discovery it hadn’t been Emily in the hospital, and his nerves had only become more frazzled during the three-hour meeting with the cops.
They had asked the same infuriating questions again and again. It was as if they suspected it was he and his father who killed Emily and tossed her overboard, and the two of them were trying to frame an innocent young woman left pregnant by her evil, coldhearted lover.
At first, even he hadn’t believed Sonja would do such a thing, or even be capable of it. But now, with a few days to mull it over, he’d begun to wonder if it were possible.
Had she fought with Emily on deck—over him, for God’s sake—and knocked Emily overboard?
He remembered it clearly now; his father had discovered Emily missing and Sonja, soaking wet and still in her gear, had told them Emily went up on deck to pull in the sheet on the storm sail as Graham had asked her.
Still, their suspicions alone hadn’t been enough to convince the police, and Sonja had been released. Before noon the next day, the truth about her pregnancy was no longer a secret.
A few of his closest friends had been supportive, but most people he knew thought him a rat. Several had called up to cuss him out. The answering machine was full of nasty messages.
It would have been easier to accept if something had come of Sonja’s questioning. She admitted to being on deck and confessing her pregnancy to Emily, but maintained she had nothing to do with her disappearance. The police had no evidence, and very little cause, to hold her.
It had been another painful blow to learn Emily had died knowing he’d cheated.
A crisp wind filled the sails but the weather was otherwise clear as they sailed toward Freeport. Today’s trip was just Colin and his father, Chelsie, Joseph, and Will, chartering old Mr. Hudson and his obscenely young girlfriend for a day trip. The old man pretended he liked the privacy afforded on the boat, but it was obvious he liked to flaunt his money in front of his hot young lay, and flaunt his hot young lay in front of everyone else. Colin thought the old guy was crazy as a loon, but if he wanted to rent them for the day, it was fine by him.
He needed to work to keep his brain from turning to sludge. He tramped through each day with little enthusiasm, not caring if he were to fall overboard and drown. Every hour dragged painfully into the next. He had nothing to hope for, nothing to look forward to. He was lost of all desire, existing as little more than a sailing zombie.
Since the storm that had taken Emily, the weather had mockingly remained clear as a bell, but he knew the fog would start soon. Misty mornings where the ocean was so still and the air so milky you couldn’t discern where horizon met sky, and a sailor had better know his instruments or he’d meet a tragic end on the rocks, or get lost a hundred miles off course. The type of weather Emily was better sailing in than him. She’d aced her tests, while he’d barely passed. So much about his life wouldn’t be the same without her, down to the business he hoped to inherit.
They docked at an unusually busy Gold Coast marina in Freeport. The mild weather this late in the season brought out the ‘yachties’ or, fair-weather-freaks, as they used to call them in jest. As Emily used to call them in jest.
His father clapped him on the back, pasting on that forced smile he wore so often now. “Come up to the bar for a beer? I’m buying.”
“Come on, Colin. Mr. Hudson’s going to be a while,” Joseph said. “Game’s probably on the big screen.”
Chelsie, Joseph, and Will waited with his father, expectant looks on their faces. They had stood behind him through all this, but he couldn’t force himself to look wholehearted.
“You guys go on ahead. I’ll be up as soon as I splice this line.”
“All right,” Chelsie said, brushing her hand over his forearm as she passed. “Don’t be long.”
He took his time with the line, planning to skip the beer altogether. He wasn’t in the mood for the meaningless conversation they always tried to coax out of him. But when he finished the line with a dry mouth and sheen of sweat on his forehead, the idea of an ice-cold beer from the tap sounded a lot better than a lukewarm soda from the chest.
He walked up the dock, sidling around a group of tourists preparing to board a small catamaran for an afternoon trip. A young girl sat on the foredeck of the squatting vessel, holding her arms out while one of the crew fitted her into a lifejacket.
Colin froze, blinking his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imagining what he saw.
“Hey!” He jumped over a small boy sitting on the slip and ran around to the cat’s dock step. “Where did you get that lifejacket?” He made it onto the cat’s deck before the crewmember, a preppy young girl probably not even twenty, looked up.
“Where did you get this lifejacket?” he demanded again. The child regarded him with wide eyes, and even the crewmember looked a little frightened.
“Answer me! This is important!”
“What’s going on here?” A man emerged from the cabin. “Can I help you?”
Colin whirled around. “That lifejacket came from the Maraschino.” He thrust his arm out, pointing down the ramp toward his boat. The man glanced over him, and then to the little girl.
The front of Emily’s lifejacket still had some of the embroidered stitching spelling out “Maraschino” on the left shoulder, and “Emily” on the right. What had once been a top-of-the-line custom-fitted lifejacket was now faded and scrappy. Where the stitching was missing, the neoprene beneath was a shade darker, revealing the letters that had once been there.
The man’s gaze flicked back to Colin. “Hey, no problem, man. You can have it. Lisa, get her another one out of the bin.”
Colin stalked toward him fast enough to make the man take a step back. “Listen to me. A girl went overboard wearing that lifejacket.” He enunciated his last words slowly. “I need to know where you found it.”
“Colin, what are you doing?”
He turned around to find his father, Joseph, and Chelsie staring up at him from the dock.
“That’s Emily’s lifejacket.” He pointed to the little girl.
Chelsie’s eyes grew wide. “Oh my God.”
“Look, I found it on the beach. If I’d seen your boat there I would have given it back.”
Colin turned back, his heart pounding painfully fast in his chest. “Where on the beach?”
“In Newport—it was caught on the rocks at the jetty near that hundred-year-old
place, the Mirthful Mermaid.”
Chapter Seventeen
Geoffrey couldn’t concentrate. He paced his office, rushing to the computer when it beeped to alert him to a new email, but ignoring the message when the subject promised another boring topic.
He opened the wall safe to look for a document, and the sight of the black velvet box containing his late mother’s wedding ring sent his mind reeling.
His father had given it to him the year she died. Geoffrey hadn’t given it to Christina when he’d proposed. Her fingers hadn’t been as slender as his mother’s, and Christina was a big rock kind of girl. Her ring had been a flashy, pear shaped diamond surrounded by a cluster of small rounds mounted in a wide band.
His mother’s ring was smaller and very tasteful, the band narrow and the main stone’s mounting in a cluster of smaller diamonds so the half-carat center stone looked like a rose.
He put it back in its box, closed the safe and resumed pacing.
August would say no. Surely she was the kind of girl who would marry someone more...someone like David.
She hadn’t expressed her desire for a more exciting, flashy life, but neither had Christina, at first. August was vivacious, energetic, and dazzling. She was destined for bigger things than small-town life. Even Portland seemed too drab and drizzly for her. No, August was more of a sunshine girl, pretty enough to get noticed in Hollywood.
Still, he’d faced rejection before. What was the worst that could happen?
August might be insulted, and the rest of their time together would be spent in awkward discomfort, that’s what.
Besides, the last thing he could bear to hear from her lips would be the “I only like you as a friend,” spiel. From her, it would be like an ice pick to the heart. He’d never loved any of the women he’d asked out before. Besides Christina, he’d not wanted to marry any of them.
But spending the rest of his life alone was the ending he was headed toward now. Considering such a bleak future, what did he have to lose?