Heartbreak Cove

by Lily Everett

  Those memories were the current that ran through every conversation she and Owen ever had, no matter how brief.

  “I know,” Owen replied, regret heavy in his voice. “And I wouldn’t ask, I’ve got no right to expect help from you, but Andie—if you don’t take her in, they’re going to send her to Dad.”

  Andie’s heart stuttered in her chest. Even though she was normally the one defending their father to Owen, the idea of sending another motherless little girl to live in that cold, strict, regimented house … “Oh. Owen, no. Of course Caitlin can come here. I’ll do my best, and it’s only temporary, right?”

  “Right! Once this mission is over, I’ve got some leave coming to me. We’ll figure it out in a month or so.”

  “A month. Okay. There’s a limit to how badly I can screw a kid up in four weeks,” Andie said, trying to sound sure. Because, priorities. Whatever her worries and fears, however much she wanted to lecture Owen on responsibility and slap him silly for getting some girl pregnant and not even knowing about the baby … they couldn’t deal with all of that now. “Seriously, Owen, don’t worry about a thing. Keep your mind on your mission. All I want you concentrating on is coming home safely.”

  “Yeah.” His voice and the background noise faded for a second, as if he’d muffled the phone against his chest. When he came back, he said, “Sorry, my CO is giving me the high sign. I’ve got to go. Thank you for this, sis, from the bottom of my heart. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

  “Be safe,” Andie rushed to say, but Owen had already disconnected the call.

  Great. She hadn’t even managed to find out when the girl—her niece—Caitlin—might be showing up, or who’d be bringing her. She’d made sure to email Owen her new address and phone number when she moved to Sanctuary Island; she knew that she, not their father, was listed as Owen’s next of kin. Surely that meant they’d be able to find her.

  Nervous energy propelled her off the couch. She still needed a shower, and the guest bedroom needed to be made up, her side arm locked in the safe under her nightstand, and what did eight-year-old kids like to eat, anyway? Was the frozen pizza she’d planned to defrost for her supper okay? It had vegetables on it. Green peppers and tomato … and olives counted as vegetables, too, right?

  Andie glanced down at her watch. 7:03. But that was useless knowledge. There was no way to gauge how much time she had when she didn’t know where the girl was. But the distant blast of the ferry’s horn, down at the harbor, went through Andie like a gunshot.

  The ferry was the only way on or off the island. It ran between Sanctuary Island and Winter Harbor, Virginia, in the morning and evening. Every resident of Sanctuary had the ferry schedule memorized. Seven in the morning and seven at night.

  Was it possible Caitlin could be arriving on that very ferry?

  Stripping frantically, Andie pitched her dirty uniform into the hamper and leaped into the shower for the fastest scrubdown of her life. She wasn’t going to meet her niece for the first time smelling like an escaped bulldog. Once she was clean and dressed in jeans and a thick navy cable-knit sweater against the chill spring evening, she felt more in control of the situation.

  At least until her doorbell chimed. Andie tugged the spare toothbrush from her last trip to the dentist from its wrapping and dropped it into the cup next to her own. Taking a deep breath and rubbing her damp palms along her thighs, she made her way across the living room to open the front door.

  On her doorstep stood an older woman in Army Dress Blues with gold stripes on the shoulders and a small cross pinned to her collar. And standing slightly behind her, as if taking cover behind her legs, was Caitlin.

  Andie’s throat squeezed tight. She’d never seen this child before, but she would have known her for family instantly. The similarity to the little brother who lived in Andie’s memories was unmistakable. Caitlin had Owen’s serious mouth and way of tilting his head, the freckles he’d lost over the years, and the carroty orange-red hair that had been the bane of Andie’s existence growing up.

  When Caitlin ducked a glance from beneath her pale lashes, Andie’s heart expanded like a balloon, filling with helpless, overwhelming love. Connection. Family. Belonging.

  This was going to be amazing. Andie imagined herself holding out her arms, imagined her niece running into them, imagined picking her up and twirling them around in the sunshine …

  But as Caitlin met Andie’s eyes, the girl shrank back, hunching her shoulders as if trying to make herself invisible. Andie bit her lip and cautioned herself to slow down. She really knew nothing about Caitlin or what her life had been like up until now.

  “Sheriff Shepard?” the woman inquired, reminding Andie that she and Caitlin weren’t alone.

  “That’s me,” she said, tearing her gaze from her niece to smile at her caretaker.

  “I’m Lieutenant Loretta Phelps, Chaplain at Fort Benning. Your brother was there for Airborne School last year, part of his Ranger training. When Sergeant Shepard found out what had happened,” the chaplain said delicately, with a glance down at her silent charge, “he asked me to bring her to you.”

  Lt. Phelps was in her thirties, with a sensible brown bob and the sort of plain, kind features that made Andie want to trust her immediately. “And we’re very grateful, Lieutenant. I know Owen would want me to thank you for going well above and beyond the call of duty. Please sit down and be comfortable—I hope you’ll stay the night with us.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t,” Lt. Phelps said, with a small, regretful smile. “I’m on leave right now, but I need to report back to base by oh six hundred tomorrow.”

  “So soon.” Then all three of them stood there awkwardly on Andie’s carpet, unsure where to look or what to do. She realized she’d been counting on the buffer of another adult’s presence, at least for the first night, but apparently she and Caitlin were soon to be on their own.

  And after that one swift glance, Caitlin hadn’t met Andie’s eyes again. Instead, she’d opted to stare down at the scruffy pink backpack at her feet. Andie crouched down to put herself on Caitlin’s level. “Hey there, I’m your Aunt Andie. It’s nice to meet you.”

  That familiar blue gaze flicked up to Andie’s face, almost unreadable. Dread fluttered down Andie’s spine at the thought of what kind of life could train such a young girl to blank her expression. No kid should have this much self-control, this ability to hold herself still like a mouse hiding from a hawk. Remembering herself at age eight, and how grown-up she’d thought she was, Andie mustered up a smile and held her hand out. Caitlin glanced at the chaplain before stepping forward to shake Andie’s hand. Like the strangers they were … for now.

  Pushing out a shaky breath, Andie felt her smile widen into something real and hopeful. They had time. She could push gently at Caitlin’s boundaries, make her feel safe enough to let down the walls. It would take time and patience, but Andie had that in spades.

  “I’m sorry, but I should really get going now if I want to make tonight’s return ferry,” Lt. Phelps was saying, and Andie mustered up an understanding smile as she stood.

  “Of course. Can I give you a ride?”

  “I have my car.” The chaplain turned her gentle face down to the girl at her side. “Caitlin, it was wonderful to meet you. I know you’ll be very happy here on this beautiful island, with your aunt.”

  Caitlin shrugged one skinny shoulder and said nothing, and Andie experienced an odd moment of embarrassment, as if Caitlin’s stiff silence reflected on Andie somehow. She simultaneously wanted to urge Caitlin to politely thank the chaplain—and also to step in front of Caitlin and defend her from anyone who might criticize her for rudeness. Was this what being a parent felt like?

  Lt. Phelps didn’t appear offended or judgmental. Instead she laid a sympathetic hand on Caitlin’s shoulder as a silent good-bye, and walked to the door. With one hand on the knob, she said, “Sheriff, if I could have a moment?”

  “Uh sure.” Andie looked uncertainly at
the motionless child in her living room. “I’ll be right back, Caitlin, and we’ll get you settled in. Okay?”

  Another shrug. Squaring her own shoulders, Andie followed the chaplain out into the cool April night. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Lt. Phelps to find the words she was obviously searching for.

  “I didn’t spend much more than a day with Caitlin,” she said finally, “but on the trip here, I couldn’t help but notice that she’s struggling.”

  “Hardly surprising,” Andie pointed out, keeping her voice low. “Considering her mother just passed away, and all the big changes that have come flying at her. Anyone would be struggling, much less an eight-year-old.”

  Lt. Phelps nodded. “I didn’t get a lot of information from the Child Protective Services rep who was assigned to Caitlin’s case, but … I got the impression that the mother’s death wasn’t the reason for the assignment. The rep seemed to know Caitlin better than the couple of weeks it took for them to track down your brother.”

  Andie crossed her arms over her chest to ward off a sudden chill. “You mean, CPS had gotten involved with Caitlin and her mother before? As in … Caitlin was abused?”

  “I’m not privy to the details of her file. As her temporary guardian, you might be able to get more information if you apply for it, but generally, the involvement of CPS can mean several things. Abuse and neglect, certainly, but that covers a range of situations. I just thought you should be aware, so you could follow up with the CPS rep and get Caitlin any outside help that might be appropriate, like therapy.”

  “Do you really think that’s going to be necessary?” Andie asked, heart aching in her chest.

  “I can’t say,” Lt. Phelps told her softly. “From my observations, Caitlin is deeply troubled, withdrawn and unresponsive to most adults, especially women.”

  “And now she’s been dumped on an adult woman she’s never met,” Andie finished painfully, staring over her shoulder at the closed door. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I don’t want to make things harder for her than they already are.”

  “You’re her family. No one in the world can make it easy, what she’s got to go through now … but you can help. If you’re anything like your brother, you’ll be fine.”

  The slight smile lit the chaplain’s plain features with a warmth and happiness that transformed her face. The light pink blush that suffused her cheeks didn’t hurt, either, and Andie bit her lips against a smile.

  That was Owen, all right. Her baby brother, making friends and breaking hearts wherever he went.

  “Owen and I are both in your debt,” Andie said, holding out her hand. “I don’t know how we can ever repay you for taking your own personal time to bring Caitlin all the way here, but if you ever need anything, I hope you’ll call. And that you’ll at least let me pay your expenses for the trip.”

  Lt. Phelps waved away any thought of payment and shook Andie’s hand. “I was glad to do it. Your brother is a good man, even if he doesn’t always believe it himself. Good luck, Sheriff Shepard.”

  With that last, perfect insight, the chaplain walked briskly down the slate paving stone walkway to climb into her little gray car. Andie watched her go, her mind a whirl of new information, worries, and aching empathy for the child who had nowhere to go and no one to count on but an aunt she’d never met.

  Andie braced herself to chisel away at Caitlin’s walls, but when she went back inside, the girl was no longer standing in the middle of the living room. Instead, she’d curled up on the sofa with her head on her ratty backpack and her sneakers dangling off the edge like she’d been trying to keep her feet off the cushions. Andie’s neck hurt just looking at the weird angle of Caitlin’s thin body, but the girl was fast asleep.

  “Tomorrow is a new day,” Andie promised herself in a whisper as a spasm of love shuddered through her. “And everything is going to be all right.”

  As she lifted the too-light burden of her sleeping niece into her arms and carried her down the hall to tuck her into the guest bed, Andie did her best to believe her own words.

  Chapter Five

  Sam liked his room at Harrington House. The Victorian mansion where his cousin, Penny, used to be the caretaker and now was the mistress, was one of the oldest homes on Sanctuary Island. Sam’s window looked out over the town square across Island Road, an expanse of bright spring green grass and tender saplings sheltered by big, old oaks.

  He was shoving his feet into his boots when Matt rapped his knuckles on the open door frame. Sam gave the kid a quick grin. “Up already? I thought you were supposed to be a teenager.”

  “I was sure you’d be the one sleeping in, old man,” Matt countered, smirking. “You said last night we were up way past your bedtime.”

  “It takes more than a Scrabble grudge match to wear me out. Unlike your wimpy mother.”

  Penny had pleaded exhaustion by nine o’clock, heading for bed with a sweet kiss to Matt’s forehead and a squeeze of Sam’s shoulders. Her new husband, Dylan, had made his excuses not long after. It had been more than a year, but those two still acted like newlyweds.

  “Mom’s never been a night owl.” Matt shrugged, but a hint of a frown darkened his hazel eyes.

  “Y’all are doing all right here, aren’t you?” Sam got to his feet, keeping a weather eye on his young cousin.

  “I think so. I mean, yeah. Things are good.”

  Sam tucked his tongue into his cheek. “Real convincing, kid. I hope you’re not considering a career in politics.”

  Slugging Sam half-heartedly in the shoulder, Matt made a face. “Lay off.”

  After Penny grabbed Matt and left her jackwagon of a first husband, Sam had been the only man Matty had to look up to for a long time. And maybe Sam wasn’t exactly cut out to be anyone’s hero, but he’d done his best. And even now that Dylan was in the picture and apparently in the running for Stepfather of the Year, from what Sam had seen, it was a tough habit to break. “Hey, y’all are putting me up in your house, least I can do is play armchair family counselor.”

  “We don’t need a family counselor!” Matt insisted, twitchy as all hell.

  Sam spread his hands and dropped his voice to the tone he used on nervous horses. “Seriously, Matty. You in trouble? Maybe it’s not family stuff. Maybe girl trouble?”

  Bull’s-eye. Matt’s cheeks went red and splotchy, his gaze dropped to the floor, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot like the awkward, shy, overweight kid he’d been up until his growth spurt hit last year. “No,” Matt muttered. “I’ve got a girlfriend. The most popular girl in school, actually.”

  Sam had spent most of his school career hiding out in wood shop, because Mr. Farley was the only teacher who didn’t bat an eye at a kid who showed up with bruises. Sam had been thinking about other stuff back then, consumed with getting big enough to fight back or run away, not dating and social status. His understanding of what it meant to be dating the “popular girl” was mostly based on movies and TV at this point. “That sounds good. So what’s the problem?”

  “There’s no problem.” Matt threw his hands in the air then turned and stomped down the stairs.

  Sam followed him more slowly, turning the conversation over in his mind. “Does this have anything to do with Taylor McNamara?”

  Matt stopped so suddenly, Sam almost crashed into him and sent them both diving face-first down the steep wood staircase. “I’m not cheating on Dakota!”

  “Nobody said you were,” Sam pointed out reasonably, with a gentle nudge between the kid’s shoulder blades to get him moving again. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee and sizzling bacon rose warmly up to greet them, making Sam’s mouth water. “All I’m saying is, watch out for Taylor. She’s a live wire.”

  Matt gripped the elaborate newel post at the bottom of the banister and tilted his chin up to look Sam in the eye. “You think she’s a bad influence, but you’ve got the wrong idea about her.”

  “I was there when she convinced you it was a good
idea to swipe a bottle of rum and sneak out to the protected part of the wild horse preserve,” Sam reminded him, arching a brow.

  “But you weren’t there when we did the community service with Sheriff Shepard,” Matt said earnestly. “The sheriff had us hauling fertilizer and paving stones, digging flower beds and edging pathways for the rose garden Dylan and his brothers donated to the town.”

  Sam’s idiot imagination flashed on an image of Andie Shepard surrounded by rosebuds and green leaves, wearing nothing but sunlight, freckles, and a seductive smile. It took him a second to tune back in to Matt’s recitation of Taylor’s many fine qualities.

  “… and even though she had to be at the barn early to help coordinate the therapy riding volunteers, she got up at five every morning last summer to do her part. And after the first few days, I realized she was doing way more than her part, so I started showing up at the crack of dawn to make sure we pulled equal weight. And we just … talked. While we worked, we talked about all kinds of stuff, and we became friends. Good friends. Taylor’s a good person, Sam. Better than anyone realizes, including her.”

  Sam smoothed a hand down his close-trimmed beard to hide his smile. “Sounds like Taylor’s really been there for you this past year.”

  “She has.” Matt glanced down the hall to the kitchen, where they could hear the murmur of Dylan’s deep voice and Penny’s soft, contented laughter. “You’ll see for yourself—she’s out at the barn almost every day. Just promise me you’ll give Taylor a chance.”

  Sam was beginning to get an inkling of what Matt’s girl problem might be, but instead of pointing it out, he slung an arm around the kid’s wide shoulders and steered him into the kitchen. “I promise, I’ll give Taylor a clean slate and get to know her.”

  Sam nodded gravely through Matt’s thanks and a few additions to the list of Taylor’s Virtues, and kept his insights about Matt’s girl troubles to himself. At least until he had a chance to judge whether Taylor really was this amazing, perfect paragon, Sam didn’t intend to stick his oar in and get Matt to realize that of the two girls in his life, he’d spent five times longer rhapsodizing about his best bud than he had about his popular girlfriend.