by Connie Mann
“Don’t you have better things to do, Money-boy?” She wiped her hands on the rag, then took a step back in surprise when he nipped it from her grasp and dabbed at her left cheek.
Jesse found he liked keeping her a bit off balance. “You always did get dirty when you worked.”
A big yellow Lab appeared and inserted herself between him and Sasha, shooting him a concerned look.
“This is Bella. She hides when I start banging, but she never goes far.”
Jesse leaned over and stuck out his hand for Bella to sniff. “She looks like the dog you had when you were a kid.” Color spread up Sasha’s cheeks, and she looked away. Interesting. “She’s yours?” he asked, though given the way the dog hugged Sasha’s legs, the answer seemed obvious.
“Since she was a pup. She goes with me everywhere.”
He eyed the suspended motor. “So what crime has this motor committed to make you beat it with a wrench?”
Her eyes narrowed, as if she wasn’t quite sure if he was teasing or not. She pointed. “Not the motor. Idiot owners. Gummed-up injectors. Lazy.” She shook her head and continued her inspection.
“You OK?” He hadn’t meant to ask; the words just popped out.
Her head snapped up. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He studied her closed expression and decided not to mention Mama Rosa’s cancer. Clearly a closed topic. “Must be a bit awkward, coming back after all this time.”
This pulled a half smile from her. “Guess you know all about that.” She raised a brow and went back to work, leaving him to wonder just how much gossip she’d picked up. And how much of it was true.
“You all moved into Miss Clarabelle’s cottage?”
“Not yet. I’m going to have to shovel out a truckload of knickknacks first.”
“She did love her trinkets. And you, though you kept her on her toes.”
He laughed. “I still expect her to stomp into the kitchen and chew me out for something or other.”
“You always gave her lots to scold you for. She was a sweet little spitfire.”
“True enough.” You’re stalling, Claybourne. “So, I was going to take The Painted Lady for a ride. Want to come?”
She stopped, straightened, arms folded as she studied him. “She’s a pretty sweet ride. You going to let me take the helm?”
“Mama Rosa said you’re a boat captain. You ever pilot a vintage boat? They take a bit of finesse.”
“Not one as pretty as yours. But I’ve handled trawlers in heavy seas and just about anything else that floats.”
He indicated the door with a nod of his head. “We’ll see.”
She flashed him a quick triumphant grin, dropped her tools back on the workbench, and took a minute to scrub the grease from her hands at the industrial sink before she followed him out to the boat slip.
She stopped, hands on hips as she surveyed the boat. She let out a slow whistle.
“They sure don’t sell these babies at the local discount lot.”
All sleek wood and beautiful lines, ready to fly across the waves, The Painted Lady could tempt men into foolish, foolish decisions.
His gut knotted when he thought of just how much he had riding on the upcoming race. He stepped aboard and turned to offer her a hand.
She grinned. “Permission to come aboard?”
He wiggled his fingers. “Yeah, yeah, hop in.” He eyed Bella. “She needs to stay here.”
Sasha looked like she wanted to argue, but then she patted Bella’s head and said, “Sorry, girl. I’ll be back soon.” She untied the bow lines, turned, and in one smooth move, grabbed his hand and stepped aboard.
Jesse turned on the blower and reached back to untie the stern lines. Once they’d cast off, he expertly maneuvered them out of the small marina and followed the channel markers into open water. Out here in the Gulf, the water deepened about a foot per mile, so a smart man stayed in the channel and knew the tides or he could end up running aground on an oyster bed.
The small cockpit barely had room for both of them, but he sat behind the wheel, studying the gauges, judging The Lady’s performance. When he’d used the key from Aunt Clarabelle’s lawyer to unlock the air-conditioned storage unit, pulled back the cover, and gotten his first look at The Lady, he’d been stunned. Why had his aunt kept her hidden all these years? She looked showroom new, but her engine needed work, lots of work, after sitting idle for who-knew-how-many years. She wasn’t race ready. And he didn’t have a lot of time or money to get her in top form.
A few minutes later, he eased up on the throttle and moved to the side, one hand still on the wheel. “You ready?”
Her eyes widened even as a slow grin split her face, jabbing him like an unexpected fist. Did she have any idea what that smile did to him?
“I’m always ready.” She eased behind the wheel, took a moment to look over the various gauges, then smoothly eased the throttle forward. Faster, faster, faster. The 630-horsepower Chevrolet marine motor pushed The Lady up on plane, and they skimmed over the surface of the water with ease. He’d expected jerky movements and had braced accordingly. Sasha’s smooth handling made him relax.
She pushed her sunglasses down and peered at him over the top, grinning. “This is not my first rodeo, Money-boy.”
“I can see that.”
Neither spoke for several minutes while she inched the throttle forward in smooth increments. They were far enough out in the Gulf now that they had several feet of water. No fear of running aground this far from shore.
He sank down on the padded bench seat. “Go ahead and open her up.”
She grinned, the sun glinting off her sunglasses. “You sure?”
He smiled back, enjoying the little-kid sparkle in her eyes. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She nodded once and took him at his word. She pushed the throttle wide open until they were flying over the water. This late in the day, most boats had already come back in, so it felt like they were alone in the world. She made big sweeping turns, learning how The Painted Lady handled, changing speed and direction like the pro she’d claimed to be.
Time and distance lost all meaning as he watched the pure joy in her face. She tilted her head to the wind, long hair flying behind her, and let out a whoop worthy of a Seminole warrior.
Watching her, Jesse forgot all his troubles. He simply took in the moment and admitted he’d never met anyone like her, never been so drawn to anyone. Then or now.
He mentally shook his head at his own foolishness. She’d followed the call of the sea since she left. He’d be kidding himself if he started hoping she’d stick around.
Without thinking, he reached over and brushed the back of his hand down her cheek.
Sasha looked over at him, and their eyes met. She gradually throttled back and slowed to a stop. Time seemed to stretch as the boat settled into the water, the only sound the gentle lapping of water against the hull.
Sasha looked into Jesse’s eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. Behind his easy smile and confidence, she caught a quick flash of . . . something before it disappeared. She felt a blush steal over her cheeks as she broke eye contact and eased away. She’d felt that same tug every time she looked at him. She always had, and it scared her silly. Time to get things back on an even course.
“That was incredible.” She patted the dash. “She handles like a dream. The engine runs a little rough, but I’m guessing you know that.” When he simply smiled, she said, “This baby is going to win you some races, Money-boy, and she won’t even break a sweat doing it.”
“That’s the plan. Provided I can get her in top shape in time.” He paused. “You ever drive in a race before?”
“You want me at the helm in the upcoming race?”
“Not a chance. But you’d be good at it. You have experience on the water and some serious natural skills. The rest is just practice.” He studied her face, but she didn’t know what he was thinking. “I could teach you, if you want to learn.”
/> She wanted to shout Yes! but she bit her lip as responsibility splashed her like a bucket of cold water. “Tempting, but no.”
“You have a job you need to get back to?”
“No, but I have obligations here. People depending on me. Sorry.”
They drifted into silence as Jesse guided them back to the marina and eased The Painted Lady into her slip. Did he have any idea how much she wanted to say yes? Then she thought of Mama, and the no became easier. She hopped off and secured the lines. By the time she straightened and he’d turned the engine off, Bella was prancing around like they’d been gone forever. Behind them, Eve marched down the dock, completely out of place in her heeled sandals and fancy white outfit.
Jesse stepped onto the dock to hear Eve demand, “Where have you been?”
Sasha stiffened, but before she could say anything, he held out a hand. “Hey, Eve. Good to see you again. I stole Sasha for a quick ride. Hope that’s all right.”
Eve stared at his hand but kept her own at her side. He lowered his arm, and Sasha stepped between them.
“Look, Eve—”
Eve poked one manicured finger into Sasha’s chest. “No, you look. You’re not here one day and already you’re blowing off the family to run off and play.”
Sasha stepped back and slapped her hands on her hips. “I went for a ride, Eve. How is that blowing off the family?”
“Mama went to the effort of cooking dinner. You didn’t show up to eat it.”
Sasha swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a moment. “How was I supposed to know that?”
Eve narrowed her eyes. “We waited for you for thirty minutes. By then the food was cold.” She leaned close and hissed, “You made Mama cry.”
Sasha spun toward the house. “I’ll go apologize, right now.” She looked over her shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Jesse.”
“Don’t bother,” Eve called after her. “Mama already went to bed.” She blew out a breath. “Typical,” she muttered.
“Maybe you could cut her a bit of slack.” The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to call them back. Dumb move, Claybourne.
Eve spun to face him, sparks fairly shooting from her eyes. “When I need advice from a spoiled rich kid, I’ll be sure to let you know. Until then, butt out, Claybourne.”
Jesse exhaled a slow breath as she stomped off after her sister. He straightened when that itchy feeling started between his shoulder blades again. The only time he’d ever ignored that instinct, he’d gotten knifed in the jail yard for his stupidity. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Casually he scanned the marina, the boats, the outbuildings, but he didn’t see anyone.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t being watched.
Sasha had one foot on the porch steps when the screen door slammed open and Cat marched out and started for the steps without a word.
“Where are you going?” Sasha asked.
Cat stopped as though surprised, and Sasha noticed a fine tremor in her hands.
“Home.”
Cat tried to step around her, so Sasha blocked her path while she scrambled to find the right words.
“What about Mama’s request that we find Tony?”
“It’s ridiculous. How is anyone supposed to find him after all these years? He’s probably been dead all this time. I’m not looking for a grave.”
Sasha watched her sister’s face, noticing the way her eyes darted around, the strained, tight look of her mouth, the much-too-skinny body. She hadn’t seen her in ten years, true, but something was very wrong.
“Are you OK, Cat?”
Cat’s head snapped up. “I will be as soon as I get away from here.”
“Will you stay? At least a couple days? It would mean a lot to Mama.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you going to be here?”
“Yes. I told Mama I’d try to figure out what happened to Tony. Maybe give Pop a hand with the marina, too.”
“Then there’s your answer. If you’re staying, I’m going.”
Sasha took her arm when Cat tried to brush past.
“I’m sorry about that day, Cat. I always have been. How can I make it up to you?”
Cat shook her off, eyes blazing. “You can’t. Don’t you get that? You ruined my chances for the career I wanted, the career I deserved, by being your usual selfish self. I never got the chance. Never got the life I wanted—that you knew I wanted more than anything. All because of you.” She shoved her sister so hard, Sasha almost lost her balance. “I never want to see you again.”
Sasha bit her lip as Cat climbed in an aging Honda and took off with a spin of gravel. She let the unfair accusations slide in the face of much bigger issues. Since she’d seen her last, Cat had gotten into trouble, bad trouble, and if Sasha had to guess, she’d put her money on serious drug use. The twitchy movements, darting eyes, and loss of weight were unfortunately things she’d seen in other users. Maybe she was wrong. She hoped so.
Did Eve know? She snorted. Eve knew everything. Maybe the two of them could figure out what was really going on with Cat, how to help.
Sasha held the door as Bella bounded up the steps and went inside to flop down by the sofa, but Sasha knew her own rest wouldn’t come anytime soon. Between Mama’s request and now this with Cat, every cell in her body screamed to grab her backpack, hop in the Jeep, and never look back.
But she wouldn’t. The time had come to stop running.
Chapter 3
After a night of tossing and turning, Sasha woke to Bella nudging her arm and whimpering. She sat up in the narrow twin bed and looked around the sloped-ceiling room, trying to get her bearings. Home. Right. Based on the angle of the sunlight spearing through the rusting metal blinds, she’d overslept. Another black mark in Eve’s ledger. That sister’s bed was already neatly made, of course, while Cat’s hadn’t been slept in. So much for hoping her estranged sister had changed her mind.
First, coffee and an impatient dog. She pulled on clean clothes, gave her hair a quick brush, then pulled it into a ponytail as she and Bella thumped down the steep stairs. She let Bella out, then turned toward the coffeepot, mumbling, “Morning,” to the shapes at the table. After adding lots of sugar and a dollop of cream, she swallowed half the cup before she felt her brain cells come to life again.
She turned and kissed Mama’s cheek before she slid into a chair. Eve stood at the old-fashioned gas stove, scrambling eggs. Mama and Pop sat at the table, mugs cradled in their hands. The scene was so different from her memories, it made her heart hurt. Mama had always reigned over the stove and Pop would be out greeting the fishermen before the first pink streaks painted the horizon. Eve had never wanted to cook.
Mama looked up from her tea with such a hopeful expression, Sasha couldn’t tell her what she’d decided during the night. She swallowed more coffee, hoping for the courage to get the words out, but they wouldn’t come. She couldn’t snuff out Mama’s tentative hope, couldn’t tell her what she asked was impossible. Instead, she lightly patted Mama’s hand. “I’m so sorry I missed dinner. I didn’t know—”
“Hush, Sasha. No apologies.” Mama maneuvered the tea to her mouth, and Sasha had to look away as some of it sloshed onto the table. Had the chemo worn her out that much?
Mama set the mug down. “Eve, honey, come sit. Where is Blaze?”
“Still asleep when I peeked in,” Eve said as she spooned the eggs into a large bowl and set it on the table beside a plate of bacon and basket of toast. She sent a quick, disapproving glance Sasha’s way, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and perched on the edge of her chair. “Eat, Mama. You need to keep your strength up.”
Mama smiled again, and this time, it reached all the way to her brown eyes. Then they filled with tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall. Sasha clenched her hands around her mug. It would be less painful if someone simply reached in and ripped her beating heart right out of her chest. She drank more coffee and rubbed the ache in her heart. Mama reached over and patted Eve’s hand.
/> “You’re a good girl, Eve.” She reached out to her other side and took Sasha’s hand, too. “And so are you. You will never know what it means to me that you two will do this for me. Maybe Cathy will also . . .” She let the thought drift off.
Desperate to change the subject, Sasha blurted out what had kept her up most of the night. “Mama, what if we can’t—”
Eve gave a sharp, negative shake of her head.
“What if you can’t find my Tony?” Mama asked.
“It’s been a long time,” Eve added gently.
Mama looked from one to the other. “Someday, if God blesses you both with children—and I hope and pray he does—you will understand why I need to know where he is. And why I know, I know, he’s still alive.” She patted her heart. “In here, a mother knows.”
“We’ll do whatever we can, Mama,” Sasha heard herself say.
Pop hadn’t said a word the whole time, and now he shoved his chair back from the table, kissed Mama on the top of her head, and left, the screen door slamming behind him.
Not sure what to say, Sasha choked down a piece of toast and noticed Eve doing the same.
“He is afraid I will get my hopes up again,” Mama said. “He does not want to see me disappointed.”
“Neither do we,” Eve said. They ate in silence for several minutes. Then she reached over to the sideboard and grabbed her iPad. “I’ve made a list of places to start.”
“Of course you have,” Sasha murmured.
Eve drummed her long, elegantly painted nails on the scarred wooden table. “Do you have a better idea? If so, I’m all ears.”
Sasha stood and started clearing the table. “I thought we’d start with the police station and ask to see the file.”