Refuge Cove

by Janet Dailey

  “Oh, John—” Tears sprang to her eyes. She thought of the love that had gone into buying this gift for the son who would never ride it, or even see it. Now this tender, broken man was entrusting it to her.

  He was looking down at her, his eyes in deep shadow. Suddenly this wasn’t about the bike anymore. It wasn’t about her new job or even about Boone. It was as if the world around them had blurred into mist, leaving nothing but the two of them alone.

  He kissed her—his lips brushing hers, then taking possession of her mouth with a sureness that triggered whorls of hungry heat in the depths of her body. Stretching on tiptoe, she wrapped his neck with her arms, letting him lift her off her feet as the kiss deepened.

  Need cried out in her. She wanted to feel safe with this man, to stay in his arms, trusting him enough to let her give without holding back.

  But even as he held her close, she knew it couldn’t happen. She wasn’t classy enough, or pretty enough, or seductive enough for a good man to love her. She was only fit to be used. Boone had taught her that lesson. She had learned it well.

  He kissed her again, his hands growing bolder on her body. Emma froze. Sensing the change, he let her go and stepped back. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes—no—” She shook her head. “It’s just too soon, that’s all. I’m hurting, I’m angry, I’m a mess. I can’t do this now.”

  “Understood. Sorry if I crossed the line.”

  “It’s not you, John. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever known. You saved my life!”

  “Saving your life had nothing to do with why I kissed you.”

  “So why did you?” Right then, all Emma wanted was to shrink inside herself and crawl away.

  “Because you looked like you needed kissing. I guess I was wrong about that.” He turned away and changed the subject. “Still want the bike? I’ll throw in a backpack to go with it.”

  “Of course I do. And thank you. I promise to return it in good condition.”

  “I’ve got no use for it. Find it a new owner when you leave town—some poor kid who’d be glad to have it.”

  * * *

  The tension lay leaden between them as they prepared to go back to town. The backpack was a new brown schoolbag, perfect for Emma’s needs. She filled it with the extra clothes she’d stuffed in the paper bag earlier.

  “Don’t forget this.” John handed her the pistol, zipped into the pouch. “If I’m not around when you go, you can leave it at the desk in the Gateway.” He paused in the doorway. “I loaded the bike into the back of the Jeep. If the hotel doesn’t have a storage place for it, you should be able to keep it in your room. I can carry it up the stairs for you.”

  She slipped the pouch into the backpack. “Thank you for everything, John. I mean it.”

  John didn’t reply. When Emma glanced around, she saw that he’d already gone outside.

  * * *

  By the time John let Emma off at the Gateway, the rain had slowed to a gloomy drizzle. He’d carried the bike inside, where the receptionist had found space for it in a storage closet. After that, with no chance to say good-bye to Emma alone, he’d left her in the lobby and gone back outside.

  Now he sat in the driver’s seat with the side window rolled down, listening to the rain and feeling like three-day-old roadkill.

  Kissing Emma had been a crazy mistake. He should have known better. But the way she’d stood there in the shadows, looking up at him with tears in her eyes would have tempted a saint—and he was no saint.

  He’d wanted her, pure and simple. He’d been wanting to feel that neat little body next to his and taste that luscious mouth from the first night she’d spent in his cabin. But if he’d used his damn fool head, he’d have realized that, after what she’d been through, the last thing Emma would want was some horny male making moves on her. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d slapped his face.

  Would he see her again? Maybe not. And maybe that was for the best. She was on her own now, and taking steps to get her life back. He could only hope that staying in town, with plenty of people around her, would keep her safe from Boone.

  It wouldn’t hurt to let the police know where Emma was now, so they could be aware of her and keep an eye out for Boone in town. At least stopping by the station would give him something to do.

  Sam Traverton was still on duty. John had known the man a long time. They shared a coffee while John brought him up to date.

  “You say Boone got burned in that fire she set, and the trailer went up in smoke, too?” Traverton swore. “Boone must be madder than a branded polecat.”

  “He’s out to get Emma and do God knows what to her. When he showed up at my cabin, I knew she wouldn’t be safe there. So now she’s at the Gateway. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep an eye on her—and nab Boone if he gets within a hundred yards of her.”

  “I’ll pass the word to the officers,” Traverton said. “We’ll do our best to get Boone off the street. But it won’t be easy. The man can move in and out of town like a shadow. He’s as sneaky as a damned Injun—no offense, John.”

  “None taken.” John had long since learned to let such comments roll off his back. “If the odds had been in my favor, I’d have brought him in the other night.”

  “No, you had a woman to protect. You did the right thing.” The detective finished his coffee and rose. “Thanks for the update. You’d be smart to watch your own back. The way Boone would see it, you’ve stolen his woman. He could have it in for you, as well as for her.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” John left, feeling that he’d done little more than kill time. Traverton had been sympathetic but nothing had changed. The detective had more urgent things on his mind than Boone’s threat to Emma’s safety. So far, all he’d done was make excuses.

  Climbing back into the Jeep, John sat watching the rain stream down the windshield. He remembered Emma’s happy excitement today on the flight to Misty Fjords. He remembered their easy companionship, and her blazing response to his kiss—before she’d turned cold and pulled away.

  Now she was gone. When he drove home to his dark, chilly cabin, she wouldn’t be there to share supper with him, to read with him in front of the fire, or to fall asleep in his arms. She’d been part of his life for just three days, but her absence had already left a void.

  Across the street, the neon sign above the door of a tavern glowed through the dark rain, tempting him to come inside and forget his discontent. Just one drink. He’d take it in slow sips, feeling the welcome burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat. Just one drink. When it was gone, he would leave and go home.

  But he’d been down that road before, and he knew where it led. Even after seven years of sobriety, the old urge was a devil whispering in his ear. When things were going well, it was easy to say no. But times like tonight, when he felt down and dark, the voice was there, and it never went away. Just one drink. Just one . . .

  He glanced at his watch. His AA group met in the basement of a local church. A meeting was scheduled for tonight. It was early yet, but there’d be coffee and doughnuts and people he could talk to who were fighting demons of their own.

  John started the Jeep, pulled into the street, and drove up the hill to the church. Tomorrow he’d be making the mail run in the Beaver. He’d be fine then, in the open sky. But tonight he could use some help.

  * * *

  The bar section of The Silver Salmon, the restaurant on the ground floor of the Gateway, could have served as a backdrop for an early 1900s gangster movie. There were wooden tables by the window with a view of the docks and more tables around the floor. But the most outstanding feature was the massive, ornately carved wooden bar that took up much of one wall and lent a touch of vintage elegance to the room. Doors on the far side opened into a tastefully remodeled dining room, but now that the cruise season was over, the locals seemed to prefer the rustic coziness of the bar.

  Customers came for the local beers, the steaming chowders served in br
ead bowls, the salmon and crab, and the home-style comfort food. Even in the off season, the place was always busy.

  Emma’s first shift was to begin at eleven o’clock, from lunch until closing time. Today she’d agreed to come down an hour early to learn the ropes. She felt a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach as she slipped on the pink polyester waitress dress, which was at least two sizes too big, and cinched it in at the waist with a white apron. With her blue and white sneakers and bulky wool socks, it wasn’t exactly a fashion statement, but she could wear anything for two weeks.

  After locking her small, plain room and dodging workmen in the hall, she made her way downstairs. She’d put herself through college working as a waitress, but she hadn’t waited tables for almost nine years. She could only hope she’d remember what to do.

  “Hi, honey. You must be Emma.” A friendly voice greeted her as she walked into the restaurant. Standing next to the bar was a plump, silver-haired woman in a waitress uniform. “I’m Pearl.” She pointed to her name badge. “Welcome to The Silver Salmon.”

  As Pearl showed her around the restaurant and reviewed the menus, chatting the whole time, Emma felt her old confidence returning. Yes, she could do this.

  “Remember, The Silver Salmon is a friendly place,” Pearl said. “We get lots of locals, especially now that the cruise ship crowds are gone. Smile, introduce yourself, and chat them up. They’ll like that, and they’ll remember you. If there’s anything you need to know, just ask me. I’ll be here the whole time.”

  By the time lunch was winding down, Emma was hitting her stride. The forgotten skills had resurfaced, as sharp as ever. She was greeting customers, taking orders, balancing platters of food and dishes, and running credit cards like a pro.

  By three o’clock, the flow of lunch customers had dwindled to a trickle. Pearl pulled her aside as she carried a stack of dishes to the kitchen.

  “You’re doing great, honey,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

  Emma laughed. “My brain remembers what to do. But my feet and body are feeling the strain. I’ll be sore, but don’t worry, I’ll get used to it.”

  “You’re entitled to a break,” Pearl said. “Go on, grab a bite to eat, and get the weight off your feet somewhere. I’ve asked one of the cooks to bag you a sandwich and a Coke. There’s a nice bench on the dock, where you can eat and unwind.”

  “Thanks so much,” Emma said. “Believe me, I won’t expect this kind of royal treatment every day.”

  “Get going, honey. I’ll be fine here until you get back.”

  Emma took the lunch, thanked the cook, and wandered across the street to the dock. John had told her to make sure there were people around when she went out. This afternoon that was no problem. There were plenty of folks outside, shopping, walking their dogs, or just enjoying the weather, which, according to the forecast, was due to turn cold soon.

  She finished her sandwich and soda, tossed the can and wrapper into a recycle bin, and crossed the street to the restaurant. Inside, she found Pearl talking to a tall, dark-haired boy, who appeared to be about seventeen.

  “Hi, Emma,” Pearl greeted her. “You’re just in time to meet our new busboy and assistant dishwasher. He’ll be working here after school, to save up for a car, at least that’s what he tells me. David, this is Emma Hunter, our new temporary waitress.”

  “Hello, David.” Emma managed to get the words out of her tight throat. Looking up at the tall youth, with his black hair and dark eyes and the sharp, emerging planes of his face, one thing was certain.

  She was meeting John’s son.

  CHAPTER 8

  The youth gave Emma a questioning look. Then his face lit in a grin. “Hey, I remember you. You were at the driver’s license place. I saw you filling out your application.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, David.” Still stunned, Emma had to struggle for words. “I don’t remember seeing you. I guess I wasn’t looking up.”

  “If I’d known we’d be working together, I’d have come over and said hi.” David seemed as open and friendly as his father was taciturn and reserved.

  “I would’ve liked that,” Emma said, knowing better than to say more. This was no time to bring up her relationship with David’s father.

  “So, are you ready to show me the ropes, Aunt Pearl?” David asked.

  Aunt?

  Emma must have looked startled because Pearl was quick to explain. “David’s stepfather, Carl, is my younger brother. I’ve known this boy since he was just a little sprout.”

  “I’m not supposed to be working here because I’m under eighteen,” David said. “But Aunt Pearl promised to keep an eye on me, so here I am. Don’t tell anybody.”

  “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.” Emma gave him a smile as two customers walked in the door. “Meanwhile, it looks like time to get back to work.”

  Business picked up toward evening. Emma and Pearl were kept busy running orders to the kitchen and back. David had broken a plate early on, but now he was learning fast, clearing the tables as soon as they were empty. Watching the boy, Emma caught glimpses of how John must’ve looked at that age—tall and gangly, his body still filling out, his hands big and long fingered. David would grow up to be a good man, she thought. A strong man, like his father.

  Seen through the window, the last rays of the setting sun brushed the clouds with pewter and violet. Streetlights flickered on, glowing through the light mist that had crept in over the water.

  By now, John would be winging home from his mail run. He would fly above the muskeg where he’d first found her, bank over the water, and glide into Refuge Cove. From there he would drive home to his cabin, light a fire, eat supper, and settle in for the night—a night she wouldn’t be there to share.

  By closing time it was dark outside. Emma was wiping off the last table when a black Cadillac Escalade pulled up to the curb. The woman who climbed out and strode inside was strikingly tall, with a model’s figure and long, dark blond hair. She was fashionably dressed in tight jeans, high-heeled boots, and a short lambskin jacket.

  Only when Pearl greeted her with “Hello, Marlena,” did Emma realize who stood before her. This woman was John’s ex-wife, David’s mother, and Boone’s sister.

  It was hard not to stare. Marlena’s resemblance to Boone was unmistakable—the chiseled jaw and straight nose, the commanding blue eyes, the golden skin and hair. She had Boone’s lanky grace and a cool gaze that seemed to look through Emma without seeing her at all.

  “Where’s David?” she asked Pearl. “I’m here to drive him home.”

  “In the kitchen,” Pearl said. “He’ll be out in a minute. He did fine tonight. You’d have been proud of him.”

  “I’d be prouder if he’d stay home and work on improving his grades. But now that he has his license, all he cares about is getting his own car. What about his future? I ask you. What about college?”

  “You didn’t go to college,” Pearl said. “Neither did Carl, and he’s been a good provider for you and the boys.”

  Marlena ran a manicured hand through her golden mane of hair. “Oh, I know. But I want something better for David. Maybe I’m afraid that if I don’t push him, he’ll end up a worthless drunk like his father.”

  “John’s done all right for himself, Marlena. A pilot with his own plane—”

  “Maybe so. But I remember how he used to drink when we were married. People don’t change. That’s why I never want him around David.”

  The conversation ended abruptly when the kitchen door swung open and David walked out, wiping his hands on a towel. “Hi, Mom,” he said.

  “It’s about time,” Marlena said. “Come on, you’ve got homework.”

  “Okay,” David said. “But remember it’s a teacher training day at school tomorrow, so there’ll be no classes. Aunt Pearl said I could come in early tomorrow and pick up some extra hours.”

  Marlena sighed and shook her head. “All right. But I wish you were saving your money for
college instead of that blasted car.”

  She left without saying good-bye, David trailing behind her. An awkward silence hung in the air as the big SUV pulled away. Emma turned back to wiping the table.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Pearl said. “I know it was John who helped you and brought you here. Megan told me.”

  “Do you know John?” Emma asked.

  “Not well. But I hear a lot, working in this place. I know that John isn’t the man he used to be. He’s earned the respect of people in this town.”

  “I talked to Judge Falconi. She told me how Marlena’s kept him from seeing David.”

  “Marlena’s a good mother. But she’s very protective of David. I’ve never believed it was fair for John to be separated from the boy, but I know better than to say it to Marlena’s face.”

  “What can I say? John literally saved my life. He’s a good man. And it’s plain he’s never gotten over losing his son.”

  Pearl’s blue eyes narrowed. She shook her head. “If you’re thinking you might be able to change things, forget it, honey. It is what it is. Meddling will only stir up trouble and make things worse.”

  “I understand.” Emma had finished wiping the table. She gathered up the cloth and the bottle of spray cleaner to take back to the kitchen.

  “If you speak to John, don’t mention that David is here,” Pearl said. “Marlena’s done a number on the boy. He’s convinced that John is a worthless lowlife and will try to take advantage of him if given half a chance. Any meeting between the two would only end up hurting them both.”

  After what she’d heard from Marlena, Emma could believe that. Pearl was right. Pushing John and his son together would only stir up trouble in the family. If there was a door to be opened, David would have to be the one to open it. Meanwhile, all she could do was wait and hope the right time would come.

  Emma finished cleaning up, thanked Pearl again for her help, and went upstairs to her room. Dressed in John’s comfy oversized thermals, she crawled into bed and tried to unwind from the day by reading. But her troubled thoughts would not let her focus on her book.