Only Emma

by Rc Bonitz

  "Good looking dude too."

  "Yes, Daddy," she said as sardonic as possible.

  "Seems to be a good father to that boy of his."

  "Um humph."

  Her father was now grinning from ear to ear. "We'll have to keep him around for a while."

  He didn't add, "To give things a chance to develop," but that idea was quite evident in his leering grin.

  She smiled sweetly and responded with a very innocent, "Why?"

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next morning she opened the green shutters and then wandered down the dock again just to see the early morning sky in all its golden glory. Actually, to be honest, she'd have to admit she wanted to see if Bruce and Emma were still at the mooring. Since he'd dropped in on them after dark the other night she would not have been surprised to find them gone just as abruptly. There was something going on with them. His hair and Emma pretending to be a boy suggested secrets closely kept. Dangerous secrets? After all, what kind of a man dyed his hair flaming red?

  Bruce was out on deck, scanning the shore with binoculars. Doing a thorough job of it he was too. She waited on the gas dock until he swung the glasses her way, just to see what he would do. He waved. Never took his eyes from the binoculars but he waved. She surprised herself by waving back.

  His wave filled her with a nice warm glow for some reason, but once she felt that she did her best to stomp on it. A sexy man might tempt Patti to some wildly irresponsible erotic behavior, but that was not her style, not since Ramon at least. And a weird man she did not need; the island already had its share of that kind.

  She turned and headed back to her shop. Customers would be showing up before long. She had better things to do than speculate about another live-aboard. He had a certain panache about him though. Perhaps it was the mystery of his red hair. An inadvertent smile creased her lips as she entered the shop. Her breath caught. She was entertaining erotic thoughts about the man? Bloody hell, would she never learn?

  Her mother had arrived. They exchanged kisses, their usual routine, which was sort of silly since she lived with her and Daddy. She always left the house before Lavinia got up though, so maybe the kisses made sense.

  "Enjoying the weather this morning?" her mother asked.

  "It's a beautiful day," Lissey said.

  "Is that boat still out there this morning?"

  "What boat? Oh you mean the live-aboards. Yes."

  Her mom frowned and started making a fresh pot of coffee.

  "What?" Lissey asked, in spite of herself. Mom's secret wasn't the least bit secret. She was almost as bad as Sam when it came to potential candidates for her daughter's hand. As long as they were islanders. She had no use for suitors who would steal her remaining daughter away. Lissey had been dimly aware of Lavinia's prejudice but the idea struck home this morning. Was it the memory of Ramon's betrayal that had her protecting Lissey or simply a desire to see her stay on the island? Lissey thought to ask her but Lavinia cut her off before she could speak.

  "I just wondered if he's still there."

  Lissey could have played dumb and asked who she meant, and she would have said Bruce and Lissey would have felt like an idiot. So… she shut up, which she was glad of because Peter's bulky figure filled the doorway a moment later.

  "Morning Lissey. How you doin' today?" he said.

  "Fine, Peter. Your sandwiches are ready." She reached into the refrigerated case.

  "Thanks," he said as she offered him the usual order in a plastic bag. Peter liked plastic bags on his fishing boat 'cause paper dissolved when it got wet. "Are you—"

  "No, I'm not." She really had no idea what the rest of his question would have been, but a no seemed like the response she wanted.

  He sighed then brightened. "If you change—"

  "I won't."

  He gave her the most forlorn stare, then bobbed his head as if accepting the inevitable. He held up the bag. "How much?"

  "Same as always."

  He counted out a five spot and a bunch of change, and laid it all on the counter.

  She scooped it up and gave him her best deadpan look. "See you tomorrow."

  He didn't say a word, just headed out the door, and ambled off toward the docks. It was hard for him, she realized, same as for her. Eligible romantic partners on the island were few and did not include outsiders, who never rushed to fill the void, unless they were interested in a short-term fling. Very short term. That fact was as well known to her mother as it was to Lissey.

  The radio on the shelf behind the counter crackled with a call, Bruce Duncan's voice, polite but crisp and sharp.

  "Dock, come in please. This is Fantasy calling. Need a pickup please."

  Down at the dockside Louis answered promptly with his usual laconic radio manners. "There in a minute."

  His engine roared to life and seconds later his launch headed for Bruce's sailboat. She couldn't help herself; she had to watch. Bruce sat down on the edge of his boat, draped his legs inside of Louis' boat when he drew alongside, and gently lowered Emma into the launch. He slipped off his boat and sat down beside her.

  Lissey liked that. Smart and safe, he'd taken good care of Emma. She had a life jacket on too.

  She went back to work, putting Mr. Duncan out of her mind, until, a few minutes later when he and Emma entered the shop. Her life jacket had disappeared, but they were both in a cheery mood.

  "Good morning," Lavinia said, a smile on her face but a touch of frost in her tone. Lissey gave her a disapproving look. Like the man or not, ne was a customer after all. Lavinia caught her eye and blinked.

  "Good morning to you," Bruce replied. "How's everyone today?"

  That sounded like it was meant to include Lissey? Which surprised her a little given their previous meetings, but then again, she really had yet to get to know the man.

  She smiled at Emma. "How are you this morning?"

  "We're going for a hike today."

  "Oh, that's nice. Where to?"

  Bruce sat down at a table near the open door. "As far as we fancy. After breakfast."

  "I'm going to have a tart today," Emma said as she climbed onto a chair across from her father.

  "How about some eggs or pancakes?" Lissey said. The child just couldn't live on sweets.

  Emma shook her head and threw her chin out quite decisively. "Tart."

  Bruce grinned. He obviously encouraged the child in her independence. Huh, wait 'til she turned sixteen; he'd be sorry.

  "And you? What will you have?" she snapped.

  "I'll try pancakes today. Fruit juice too, for both of us. And one coffee."

  "What kind of pancakes?"

  "Do you have blueberry?"

  "Mango."

  He grimaced. "Plain."

  Lissey took herself off to the kitchen without asking about the juice. If he couldn't bother to choose maybe she'd give him prune juice. Oh Lord, the man just bugged her no end. He was so cavalier, so cocky. And the weird hair. She sighed. Why did she let him bug her so much?

  More customers came in, vacationers off charter boats judging by their clothing and the fact they seemed to know each other. Lavinia took their orders and Lissey stayed in the kitchen to handle the cooking. Eggs and waffles for the newcomers. When Bruce's order was ready her mom served it.

  The next time she came up for air and looked out in the shop, Patti Mumford had taken a seat with Bruce and Emma. Between delicate sips of coffee, Patti was busy describing the features of their little island and answering Bruce's questions. The conversation seemed quite animated. Lissey's mood darkened just enough that she became aware of the change. Good grief, she couldn't be jealous.

  The vacationers chattered away, the women browsing her popular little display of facial crèmes in the store section of the shop, the three men content to find a table and park themselves. Happiness reigned. Lissey went back to the kitchen and shoved a mango roti into the broiler.

  She ate her roti, drank some coffee, and sighed. How often had
she found herself in this exact same situation, alone in the kitchen while couples enjoyed their food and each other's company right next door in the dining area. She wasn't really alone. She had friends, and a mom and dad who loved her. But still, the weight of Jacob Marley's chains seemed to be wrapped about her chest. She might as well have been Scrooge for all the life she had outside the shop. Thirteen hours a day, seven days a week left her little time to socialize.

  She grabbed another cup of java and wandered outside, trying to settle the agitated corners of her mind. The weather was perfect, the day beautiful, but melancholy sat like a blanket on her shoulders. She abhorred self-pity, hated to indulge, but something was dragging her down.

  She meandered past Patti's shop and stopped. Leave it to Patti. She'd get Bruce into bed, one way or another. Lucky that way, there were no qualms of guilt or morality in her existence. Lissey frowned. She really wasn't privy to Patti's romantic secrets.

  Lissey had been an unwilling fourteen year old when Sam elected to make a career change and relocated his family to the Sundown Marina and Boat Works at the remote end of Little Casque island, predicting the investment would produce gobs of money. It never happened and within two years Sam had relegated the care and success of the shop to Lissey. Patti's arrival when Lissey was nineteen, just three years older than Lissey at the time and a fellow American, had seemed like the perfect antidote to Lissey's growing boredom and frustration. One could swim and fish just so much on a tiny island and watching the skin show put on nightly by the Triniday Resort at the other end of the island didn't interest Lissey one little bit. There was of course, the big distraction to be found among the islanders- drink, but Lissey did her best to avoid that curse.

  Her sister Lydia, then twenty- four, had become Patti's primary friend. Lissey had been the tag along sister until Lydia departed for life in the States. One might have expected the two remaining Americans to draw closer, but Patti's adoration of the local rum, her own conversation, and any man who would bend an elbow with her did not endear her to Lissey.

  When Ramon left Lissey standing on the dock five years ago, Patti never really said anything outright, but it had been obvious she thought Lissey was an imbecile for getting pregnant. All of that Lissey could have forgiven, even overlooked. But Patti's certainty, her good wishes that Lissey would be spared single motherhood, the way she welcomed the end of Caroline's existence, Lissey would never forget. She tolerated their acquaintance now, nothing more.

  Still musing, Lissey drifted toward the docks then stopped in front of Caesar's. It was closed, as it usually was unless she called to let him know he had a customer. That's the way things went on Little Casque Island, business coming in sudden spurts when someone sailed in and needed something. Caesar carried mostly staples that the locals needed, anchors, line, fishing gear. She tried to get him to introduce some Tees or women's clothing for the tourists, but he'd looked at her as if she'd gone insane.

  "Lissey?"

  She turned to see Bruce and Emma coming down the path.

  "Hi, what's up?"

  "I wonder if I could talk to you. I need a favor," Bruce said. He had a smile on his face, but worry lines creased his brow and wrapped around his eyes.

  She stiffened. A favor? The man was, she knew it, full of secrets. What could she do for him anyway?

  He came to a stop in front of her, holding Emma by the hand.

  "How was breakfast Emma? Did you like your tart?" Lissey said. A favor. She had the strongest urge to stroke the child's hair. Anything but have this discussion.

  Emma giggled. "It was yummy. I like tarts."

  "I'm glad."

  "Where do they come from?"

  "The tarts? I make them."

  "Oh," said Emma, looking as if she had another question but was afraid to ask.

  "What?" Lissey said softly.

  "Can I help make some?"

  "Only grownups can make them, Emma," Bruce said quickly.

  Was this the man who let his daughter drive his boat? Lissey frowned, then realized he was just giving her a simple reason to refuse. That was sweet of him but totally unnecessary. "Of course you can help Emma, but your daddy will have to bring you ashore very early in the morning."

  Bruce blinked. "How early?"

  Lissey almost laughed at his expression. Was that panic in his eyes? "I fire up my ovens at five-thirty."

  He stared at her.

  "Oh Daddy, can we?" Emma cried.

  Lissey gave her a smile, "You can come in later if you want. We can do the tarts at six-thirty."

  "Thanks. I like that better," Bruce said.

  Lissey nodded and then remembered his request. Both curious and annoyed she cocked an eyebrow at Bruce. "What do you want?"

  He hesitated before he spoke. "It's a bit unusual. I made a mistake yesterday when you woke me up."

  "Oh?" When he'd been so surly? Was that his excuse, she woke him up?

  He took a deep breath, seemed to gather himself, and then went on. "I gave you David's real name."

  That stopped her. She simply gaped at him. David's real name? Emma?

  He studied her for a moment, those worry lines deepening, but she tried to give away nothing. Whatever he wanted, he would have to work for it. Something clearly had him upset though.

  "I need a promise from you," he finally said.

  "I don't make blind promises."

  "Can I trust you?"

  "That depends."

  He groaned. "We're not breaking any laws."

  "That tells me nothing, if you were, you wouldn't admit it," she snapped. Drat, why did the man have to have secrets? He looked absolutely distraught, but she couldn't afford to promise him the moon without knowing what she was getting into. Surely he was smart enough to know that.

  "We're hiding," Emma said.

  "What?"

  He gave Emma a squeeze against his leg then turned back to Lissey. "That's right. That's why she has a boy's haircut, and I call her David in public."

  "Who are you hiding from?" She could guess; an ex-wife who should have had custody of her only daughter. No wonder there had been no mother on the boat. Bruce, the jerk. Although, he seemed almost desperate to win her support. Bloody hell, he was asking her to trust him. After the way their first encounter went he had to be desperate to do that. What could he be afraid of?

  "Grandpa," Emma said.

  "Grandpa?" Lissey sputtered.

  "It's a long story," Bruce said. "But yes."

  This she had to hear. But another thought came to mind. "So, you changed Emma's name. Did you change yours too?"

  He nodded. "Jake Wainright, at your service."

  She quirked an eyebrow, but held her tongue, waiting for him to say something more.

  His eyes darkened, with strong feeling apparently. He cleared his throat and said hoarsely, "My wife died in a car crash two years ago. Her parents are after custody of Emma. They have the money to buy anything they want. They kept losing in the courts, but they never gave up."

  "Did they finally win?"

  "The lawyers were costing me a fortune, so I sold the house, bought the boat, and took off."

  "Why the fake names?"

  "My father-in-law has detectives after us. We keep moving around and do everything for cash. We change our names so they can't find us."

  She glanced at Emma. For such a little child she was so serious. How could a tyke like her deal with having a new name every time she turned around? But Emma nodded as her father spoke, apparently agreeing with what he was saying.

  "That's why you pretend she's a boy." Lissey's heart stumbled. Caroline's death had been bad enough, but to lose a child at this stage of Emma's life because someone stole her away from you would be unbearable. No wonder he was desperate enough to beg for her help.

  "I hate to do that, but it's one more piece in our bag of tricks."

  "What will you do when she matures?" Lissey asked.

  "I don't know," he murmured.

 
; Lissey considered for a moment. He seemed to be telling the truth, but she'd met other men who seemed honest, oh yeah. She'd have to do some checking on Jake Wainright. Being the harbormaster she was also sort of the law at her end of the island. At least she knew the chief constable on Great Casque. She could always get help from him when she needed it. She could give Jake the benefit of the doubt though for a while.

  "What do you want from me?"

  Jake smiled, looking more relaxed than he had a moment ago. "Just use our phony names all the time. Bruce and David, that's all. And keep our secret until we leave."

  Emotion surged through her body, a confusion of surprise and sadness, annoyance and pure upset. "Until you leave?"

  Jake gazed at her as if she were an idiot. "We can't stay in one place very long. They'd find us."

  Jacob Marley's chains were back around her chest again. She drew a deep breath and shook them off. Who knew if this guy was really giving her a true story? He was a live-aboard after all, the equivalent of a boat hobo.

  "Will you keep our secret?" Jake asked.

  "I'll think about it."

  "What about while you're thinking?" he pleaded.

  "Call you Bruce and David in the meantime?" She shrugged. "All right."

  He got the silliest grin on his face. "That's great."

  What had she committed to? He might be a kidnapper; she had to verify his story. "What was your wife's name? Her maiden name."

  His eyes suddenly glistened with moisture and he blinked fiercely, then turned his back and dropped to one knee. Emma reached for him and he wrapped an arm around and hugged her. He rubbed furiously at his eyes. He patted Emma's head, then stood and turned back to face Lissey, his expression rigidly controlled. "I'm sorry. It sneaks up on me sometimes."

  Lissey knew about intermittent bursts of grief that could abruptly rip at one's emotional safeguards, he didn't have to explain. Her heart went out to him. For a moment, then she forced her brain back to work. She couldn't let sympathy hold sway, not until she had all the facts about this man.

  "Her name?" she repeated, softly this time.

  "Diane Simpson Wainright."

  "When did she die?"

  "February 4, 2014. You're going to call the cops on us."