The Christmas Wishing Tree: An Eternity Springs Novel

by Emily March

  “Okay. That’s cool. On Friday we’re going to go hike up in the mountains and go camp in a tent for two nights. Sinatra is going to stay here. Not all the kids want to go, so Miss Cheryl will be here and Sinatra is going to stay with her while I’m gone. I think he’ll be fine, don’t you, Mom?”

  “I think he’ll be absolutely fine.”

  “All right. Well, I better go.” He started edging away. “Today I get to ride Bubba. That’s the horse’s name. Bubba.”

  “Whoa there, cowboy,” Devin said past the lump of emotion that had formed in his throat. “Don’t go yet. I gotta say . . . I need to . . .”

  Reilly peered up at him, expectant and impatient. “What?”

  Damn. Devin dragged his hand across his mouth. “Say goodbye. See, once we find the bad guy, I’m going to have to go back to work. So it’s possible, by the time you come home from camp I’ll be gone.

  “Oh.” The boy’s expression fell. “That makes me sad, Devin.”

  “Yeah, I know. It makes me sad too. But you know, we can always talk on the phone. You can call me whenever you want.”

  “We can FaceTime.”

  “Yep. We sure can. I can tell you this right now. I’m going to want to hear all about this tent-camping trip you’re about to take. I’ll bet that’s a real adventure.”

  “Yep. We have bear spray to carry.”

  “Always be prepared.” Devin went down on one knee and held out his arms. “C’mere and give me a hug, Reilly.”

  The boy ran into the man’s embrace. “I’ll give you a bear hug!”

  Devin closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the emotion rolling through him. Then he growled like a bear and squeezed Reilly tight. When the boy giggled and wiggled, Devin released him and stood. “Take care of yourself, Reilly James Stockton.”

  “I will. I gotta go now. Bye, Devin. Bye, Mom.”

  “Wait!” Jenna called. “I need a hug.”

  Like any healthy, happy eight-year-old boy, Reilly rolled his eyes in disgust. “Mo-om.”

  Reilly gave her a fast hug, then pulled away and headed toward the stables in a run. Just before the path took him out of sight, he stopped, turned around and waved. “I love you!”

  “Love you too, buddy!” Jenna called.

  Devin swallowed hard. His eyes stung. His heart twisted. Softly, he said, “I love you, Reilly.”

  Damned if he didn’t mean it.

  Seventeen

  Bella Vita Isle was a feast for the eyes, an emerald island awash in tropical flowers and surrounded by a turquoise sea. Colorful birds flittered from tree to tree, bloom to bloom, and as Jenna sat on a porch swing watching one bird the size of a robin sporting a bright blue breast, shocking yellow neckband, and fire-engine red crest perched on the weathervane atop the house next door, she felt a little like Cinderella at the ball. Flying on a private jet, vacationing at a beachfront cottage, and now motoring about the Caribbean on a private boat? “Dr. Stockton, you’re not in a trailer park anymore.”

  They were staying in the house that had been Devin’s home. The darling three-bedroom, two-bath structure had sustained only minor damage during Danielle, and rather than sell it when he moved to Australia, he’d chosen to repair it and market it as a vacation rental.

  Jenna found it easy to picture Devin living here. Although he’d removed all personal items from the property, the house was decorated in a nautical theme that included photos of the vessels he’d lost to Hurricane Danielle—The Office, the Outcast, and the Castaway. Moored at the marina on the opposite end of the island, the boats had taken a direct hit from the dirty side of the storm.

  The wistful look on his face when he talked about them made her want to give him a comforting hug. She didn’t do it. Jenna was being extra careful not to touch him too familiarly.

  They hadn’t kissed since she’d made the decision to stay in Eternity Springs. They rarely touched. However, sexual awareness remained a constant hum in the background whenever they were together, and as a result, her nerves remained strung tight. More than once she’d caught him watching her with that heavy-lidded gaze that spoke more loudly than words ever could. More than once, he’d caught her at it too.

  They didn’t acknowledge the tension by either word or deed, but it was always there. She had thought that getting away from town and the stress of the stalker hunt along with being in a new setting might ease the edginess. Yeah, right. And tomorrow she’d be able to play a Beethoven concerto on the piano when she could barely manage “Chopsticks” today. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  It didn’t help the situation that during the two days they’d spent here on Bella Vita, she’d seen Devin in a new and even more intriguing light. He was in his element in the tropics. He was at home on a boat. Yesterday, they’d joined one of his friend’s fishing tour operations for a half-day trip. Despite being a paying customer, he’d taken on the role of a crew member, assisting and advising the person in the fighting chair, rigging the outriggers, and baiting the hooks. Jenna had caught two fish—a wahoo and a yellowfin—and while she’d enjoyed the experience, she thought he’d had more fun than she.

  Last night, they’d met a large group of his friends at a local restaurant for dinner. She’d met the bride-to-be and the groom, Mitch, who’d told her stories about Devin that had her helpless with laughter. Toward the end of the evening, when she’d stepped outside to get a breath of air, Mitch had followed her out. “Ya like our mon Oz, don’tcha now?” he’d observed, his voice heavy with the lilt of the Caribbean. “Ya really like him.”

  “Devin has been very kind to me and my son.”

  “Kind, eh? He’s a good man. He told me about being your boy’s Santa Claus. Him, he loves the little ones. ’Tis not right what that evil witch Anya”—he paused and spat on the ground—“did to him.”

  “Anya?”

  Mitch tilted his head in a considering manner. “Not my story to tell. Ask him, pretty lady. You should understand why he will not toss an anchor.”

  Jenna had been digesting that remark moments later when Devin came outside looking for her, and the conversation turned to the couple’s upcoming honeymoon in Paris.

  “Evil witch Anya,” Jenna murmured, wondering for the dozenth time since last night just who Anya was and what she’d done to Devin.

  The thought evaporated when the bird spread his wings and flew away at the same time the sound of an approaching car engine reached her ears. Devin was back.

  Jenna had returned from a shopping trip to the local market with Gabi Brogan, Savannah Turner, Hope Romano and Maggie Romano to find a note from Devin saying he’d gone down to the marina to ready things for their excursion and would return shortly. She’d relished the time alone, but seeing him climb out of the Jeep he’d rented for the duration of their stay nevertheless sent her heart going pit-a-pat.

  “Hey there, Sugar. Did you and the girls have fun shopping?”

  “We did. I bought way too much, but I blame it all on

  Gabi because she assured me that I don’t have a luggage limit since I’m flying back to Eternity Springs with the Brogans.”

  “Bet I can guess one of your purchases. A mandolin.” “How did you know?”

  “Last week at dinner I heard you tell Mom that you wanted Reilly to learn to play a musical instrument. I knew that if you saw them at the market they would catch your eye. They’re fabulous, aren’t they? The man who makes them is a real artist.”

  Jenna nodded. “I’m going to save it and give it to Reilly for Christmas.”

  “He’ll love it.”

  “I hope I can find someone who can teach him to play.”

  “Get him a good beginner book and once he learns the G, C, and D chords, he’ll be playing simple songs on Christmas Day. I picked it up quickly.”

  “You can play the mandolin?”

  Devin nodded. “My dad has one. I gave it to him a couple years ago. If I’m still in town when Reilly comes home from camp, I’ll give him a lesson or tw
o if you don’t think it would spoil the surprise.”

  Reilly doesn’t come home until Labor Day. I can’t live with Devin for another six weeks. She’d be so far gone by then there’d be no coming back.

  Jenna hesitated so long with her response that he said, “But if you’d rather I didn’t . . .”

  “No. No. That’d be great.” Jenna smiled brightly and changed the subject. “So, before I forget. Do I need to bring anything special for the boat ride this afternoon? Towels? Sunscreen? Snacks and drinks?”

  “The Windsong is fully outfitted. All you need to bring is your swimsuit.” His eyes took on a devilish glint as he teased, “Though if you want to leave it off, you’ll get no complaints from me.”

  Jenna rolled her eyes.

  Devin continued, “Are you ready to go?”

  “I am. I just need to grab my tote. I bought a new one at the market today.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  During the twenty-minute drive to the marina, Devin quizzed her about her opinions of the various vendors in the market, their wares, and if she thought a demand for any of it might exist in Eternity Springs. They were enthusiastically discussing the possibilities of importing the mandolins when she caught sight of dozens and dozens of boats moored at the marina. “Wow. For a small island, that’s a lot of boats.”

  “Danielle thinned ’em out, but the marina is coming back. I’m glad to see it. Of course, this time of day, this time of year, fishing boats and tour boats are all out. They’ll be back tonight and even some pleasure craft will have wandered in when we return this evening.”

  He pulled the Jeep into a parking spot and switched off the motor.

  “Which boat are we using?” Jenna asked.

  “The Windsong is there. The blue and white one. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

  “Wow. You said we were taking out a boat. You didn’t say a yacht.”

  “In my world, yachts are sailboats. She is a big boat, I’ll give you that, at sixty-five feet. Let’s go aboard, Sugar, and we’ll have us a cruise.”

  They cast off the lines with the assistance of dockhands and Jenna took a seat beside him in the lower helm. “We’ll move up to the flybridge once we’re out on open sea.” He explained the workings of the instrumentation as he guided the Windsong out of the harbor. “I thought we’d take a leisurely three-sixty around Bella Vita first and then head out to sea. Does that work for you?”

  “Sure.” Jenna was back to her Cinderella-at-the-ball moment. This boat was utter luxury with teak decking, a wet bar and barbecue, a dining area, and a convertible sundeck on the flybridge. The main deck had three cabins with a chef’s dream of a galley, a living/dining area, a full-standing head, and a full-beam stateroom.

  Devin captained the boat with familiar ease. Jenna asked, “Tell me about your boats.”

  “My boats aren’t anything this fancy-schmancy, that’s for sure,” he told her. “This is a pleasure boat. Mine are workboats. I make my living with them. That’s the most basic difference.”

  “But what type of boats are yours? Sailboats? Catamarans? Fishing boats like what we were on yesterday?”

  “We’ve had each of those at different times. When I was growing up, Dad ran snorkel and dive tours out to the Reef off of catamarans and sailboats, but I learned early on that I preferred fishing charters.”

  “The three that you have hanging on the wall were like the one we took out yesterday.”

  “Basic sport fishing boats. Workhorses. Two of the three I have now are the same thing.” A satisfied smile stretched across his face. “The Out-n-Back is different.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Her. She’s a fine, fine boat that began as another man’s pleasure boat. For me, she’s a workboat—a dream of a boat—but she’s still a fishing boat, a Boston Whaler. Her original owner had her less than a year when he ran into some financial problems and needed out fast. I’d just received my insurance check from Danielle so I was able to manage the down. I have earned a reputation as a guide, and between that and the accommodations, I can charge a pretty penny for charters. But the nut is steep. As long as I can keep the little boats going out, I’m okay but—” He broke off abruptly.

  Jenna realized he’d said more than he’d intended to say and she gave him a knowing look. “It will hurt you financially to stay longer in Eternity Springs than you’d originally planned.”

  “I’ll be fine. The little boats are doing great. Now look, we’re on the windward side of the island. Look up at about ten o’clock and you’ll see the restaurant where we had dinner last night.”

  Jenna decided to allow the change of subject—for now. She couldn’t in good conscience allow him to be hurt financially by assuming responsibility for her problems out of some sense of Santa psychology. If the problem wasn’t solved by Sunday, he needed to go home to Australia just like he’d originally planned. She’d have to do whatever was necessary to make it happen.

  But Sunday was still three days away. She wasn’t going to worry about it. She was going to enjoy her Cinderella Thursday aboard the Windsong.

  They moved up to the helm on the flybridge where Devin could captain the boat with the wind in his face. Jenna sat beside him, her gaze shifting between the beauty of the island and that of the man who was so in his element here on the water. And she was so out of her own.

  When they rounded the southern tip of the island and started up the leeward side, he said, “The Brogan’s place is on this side of the island. See that stretch of beach there? The red clay roof behind the hedge?”

  “I see it.”

  “They got hit pretty hard from the hurricane, but Flynn wanted to redesign the place anyway, so he was glad to have the excuse.”

  “Gabi said he’s always designing something.”

  “True, that.” When they’d puttered halfway up the island, he asked, “So, you want to take a turn at the wheel?”

  Jenna instinctively drew back. “Oh, I couldn’t. I’ve never driven a boat.”

  “No worries. We’re in eighty feet of water here.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Here.” He released the wheel and stepped back. Panicked, Jenna grabbed the wheel. He chuckled and

  began teaching her to read the electronics and gauges. Accustomed to reading machines in the operating room, she caught on quickly. As they neared the southern tip of the island, she asked, “How many miles per hour is five knots?”

  “About five and three quarters.”

  “It feels like we’re going faster than that.”

  “Because your face is in the wind. Go below and it won’t seem so fast.”

  “We went a little slower when we were trolling yesterday.”

  “Yes. About three knots.”

  “And when we were going faster? Out toward the spot where we started trolling?”

  Devin pursed his lips and considered it. “Eight to ten.”

  “It was fun.” Jenna waited a few moments, then confessed, “Yesterday was the first time I’d been on a boat.”

  He glanced over at her and his chin dropped. “Seriously?”

  “Not even a rowboat on the lake.”

  “Now, that’s just wrong. Why didn’t you say anything?” “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to admit it. I was too busy worrying that I’d get seasick.”

  “Seas were a little rougher yesterday than they are today. Boat a lot smaller. You didn’t mention feeling queasy. Did you?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Then, hold on, Sugar.” He stood behind her, covered her left hand with his, and rested his right hand on the throttle. “I’m going to open her up.”

  He applied pressure, the engines accelerated, and the Windsong shot forward like a thoroughbred at the starting gate. Soon they were flying across the sea, the wind whistling a song as it rushed past her ears. Devin’s eyes gleamed and he gave her a pirate’s smile.

  What a rush this was! She could get used to this—with
Devin and free upon the sea. Jenna had the wayward thought that this might be what having sex with Devin Murphy was like. Maybe she should throw caution to this whistling wind and really enjoy herself.

  After a while, he slowed the boat to cruising speed, set a waypoint on the autopilot and declared it was time for lunch. They went down to the galley on the lower deck where Devin set out fruit, cheeses, and sandwich fixings from a well stocked fridge and pantry. Jenna took her ham sandwich and grapes to the dining table, where she tried to listen to Devin’s comments about the engines powering the boat. However, she truly didn’t care about motors of any sort as long as they started and ran when she wanted them to run. Also, she kept popping up from the table to look out of the window.

  Devin asked, “What in the world is wrong with you?” “It’s the autopilot. It sort of freaks me out. What if there’s another boat coming?”

  “This is the most sophisticated system on the market.” He began ticking items off on his fingers. “We have radar, sonar, radio, stereo, DVDs, MP3s, telegraph, duotronic transporter . . .”

  “A Star Trek reference? You are so funny. Laugh at me all you want, but wasn’t the U.S. Navy involved in a collision or two in recent years?”

  “Fine. I’m not laughing. Your concerns are valid and understandable. I should have demonstrated the system when we were around traffic and you’d have been more comfortable with it. Tell you what.” He nodded toward her sandwich. “How about after lunch, we turn off the autopilot, stop the boat, and go for a swim.”

  “Is it safe? I won’t be fish bait?”

  “We’re in good swimming waters. That’s why I took us this direction.

  A swim sounded fantastic. Between the heat of the afternoon and the never ending strum of sexual tension, she could use a cool dip and some exercise. She polished off her lunch and went into the stateroom where she’d left her bag upon their arrival to change into her swimsuit. There, she hesitated over her choice. She’d brought the modest one-piece she usually wore, but she also had the bikini she’d purchased yesterday at the market under peer pressure from Gabi and Maggie because they said it was made for her.