Yet somehow, life ticked by, and Vanessa repeatedly found herself asking how. How could the sun and moon keep rising and setting? The tides ebb and flow? How could the world go on as if Eldon Paris had never existed?
True, his name was always on the lips of his old cronies, the small population of islanders who'd known him for nearly half a century. Aside from that, the pulse beat on Tawanya Island continued in its customary fashion: unhurried, peaceful. It seemed unfathomable that there could be illegal operations in progress somewhere close by.
Worse, Lowell was putting himself at risk as well. Clinton had been more than willing to go along with his plan, allowing him extra time off for his undercover surveillance. Her uncle's ready cooperation only weakened her efforts to try to persuade Lowell to change his plans. Every time Vanessa watched him each morning as he drove off in his pickup, she had no choice but to face the possibility squarely that now he, too, walked that thin line of danger.
And now she was more fearful than ever. Yet why? she often wondered. Hadn't she succeeded in overcoming her fears? Hadn't Lowell unknowingly shown her how when he insisted they linger on the beach a little while longer, watching the sea wash away their sandcastle?
No, perhaps she still hadn't found complete peace, she finally surmised. At least, not when it came to her fear of losing Lowell. Yet time and time again she found herself daydreaming of their future together as man and wife, reuniting after their respectively busy days, sharing hearth and home, making wonderful, passionate love.
But could this ever come to fruition--especially when Lowell continued to battle with his own private demons? The obstacles that loomed between them, like gloomy lurking shadows, seemed to be growing larger with each passing day. To keep from going altogether crazy, she threw herself into helping Clinton and Ruby. The office had to be manned constantly, the housekeeping and restaurant operations maintained, and above all, the guests kept happy. Thankfully, the daily routine consumed her.
Saturday morning in the basement laundry room while Vanessa sorted the day's laundry, the hum of the washing machines and dryers lulled her anxious thoughts.
She heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up. The housekeepers were due to arrive anytime now--yet a hunch told her the unannounced visitor was someone else.
Her hunch was right.
Ruby waltzed into the room, wearing a lop-sided grin. “I thought you took the day off,” Vanessa exclaimed. “And don't tell me you can't stay away. Especially not after all the time you've put in around here. But wait a minute...why are you smiling like that?”
“Clinton is taking me to the mainland for the annual classical musical festival--that is, if you think you can get along without him for a few hours.”
Vanessa smiled back, sending Ruby a conspiratorial look. “Get along without him? You bet I can! You tell my uncle he'd better plan on making a day of it. I don't want to see the whites of his eyes--nor yours--any time before midnight!” As she gave the towel she was holding a swift shake, the fragrance of detergent and fabric softener wafted about them.
Ruby's face brightened even more. “The whole day? Do you think Clinton will agree to that? Who will take care of Toby?”
“Don't worry. I will.” It was the least she could do. And if Ruby had managed to interest Clinton in classical music then she must certainly be gaining ground.
How lucky Ruby was, Vanessa mused longingly as her thoughts turned to Lowell.
“Ruby?”
“Yes, child?”
“May I talk to you for a moment?”
“Why of course. What is it?” Ruby perched herself on the bar stool next to the folding table and linked her hands together in her lap.
“I...I don't know exactly how to say this...but I think I'm falling in love with Lowell. Why--at a time like this--I'll never know.”
“Aw, yes. I'm not surprised. I've seen it coming. I've seen it in your eyes.” Ruby reached out to touch her arm. “But he hasn't come around yet, has he? He still hasn't told you what's troubling him.”
“No, I'm afraid not.”
Ruby nodded, understanding flooding her eyes.
Such a pity...Lowell's such a good-looking, decent young man. I hate to see him suffering this way.”
Vanessa sucked in a deep draft of air. “Are you sure you can't tell me what he said? If I only knew, then maybe, somehow, I could help him.”
“I must keep my word to him.” Ruby hesitated, pursing her lips. “I do believe there still is hope...”
“How?”
“I have a feeling that one of these days--I pray soon--the right moment will come. But you must be patient, Vanessa. You of all people should know that healing takes time.”
“Yes.” Vanessa heaved a weary sigh. “But time is running out for both of us. Lowell and I'll be leaving soon, in only about a week.”
“I know, child.”
Vanessa bit her lip as she folded a clean towel and placed it on top a stack of others. “Maybe I'm only kidding myself. Maybe when I first thought I was falling for Lowell, I was only trying to run away from my problems. Maybe we both were.”
She described their afternoon on Iffleman Island, how they'd built the sandcastle, then watched it wash out to sea. “It was so beautiful, Ruby. More beautiful than anything I can ever describe. That's what love is all about, isn't it? Sharing something beautiful. Something so beautiful you feel as if...as if you're about to burst inside.”
“Yes--that and much more,” Ruby replied breaking into a slow smile, her eyes bright with years of wisdom. “But if your feelings for Lowell are truly as you say, then your heart will know. Listen to your heart, child. It won't steer you wrong.”
Vanessa straightened, suddenly remembering the look on Ruby's face only moments earlier. Was Ruby in love with Clinton? Could that be what her radiance had meant? At any rate, she hadn't meant to rain on Ruby's picnic by talking about her own problems.
“I'm sorry, Ruby,” she said softly. “I didn't mean to get side-tracked. I'm really happy about you and my uncle. Now just tell me what I need to do for Toby and be on your way. I hope the day turns out perfect for both of you.”
Beaming once again, the older women ticked off her instructions on her fingers, from exactly how to serve Toby the specialty dog food she was buying for him at the feed store to which trails he preferred for chasing grey digger squirrels.“Gosh!” Vanessa laughed in spite of herself. “I think you're spoiling that dog worse than Lowell is.”
“Now that's debatable!” Ruby fluttered one hand in the air and turned on her heel to leave. “See you later, my dear. I tell you all about the music festival tomorrow.”
“Yes, you do that,” Vanessa called after her. “And be sure to bring back a program.”
“Speaking of Toby...I couldn't help overhearing.” No sooner had Ruby left, Lawrence appeared at the back door, clasping a worn trowel. His bulky form nearly eclipsed the rectangle of sunlight that streamed through the open door.
“Why, good morning, Lawrence.” Vanessa's face flushed. Had Lawrence heard them talking about Lowell too? “What is it you want to know about Toby?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled in a good-natured squint. “I just wanted to say I sure hope whoever's taking care of that mutt can keep him from digging anymore in my flower beds!”
Vanessa reached for a pile of bath towels, still warm from the dryer. “Yes, I'm dreadfully sorry. I'll keep Toby in the fenced yard right off the family quarters. There's nothing there he can harm.”
“Well now, I suppose we shouldn't be too hard on the little feller,” the gardener relented, breaking into a wider smile. “Maybe he's just discovering what it's like to be a land-lubber again.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “Any news yet about your father?”
“No, I'm afraid not--.” She stopped abruptly, least she say something about Lowell's undercover surveillance. He'd cautioned her that no one other than Clinton must know.
“I'm a-prayin' for him,” Lawrence put in
, scratching the gray fringe of his balding head. “I swear, Miss Paris, once the search parties have been called off, the only thing left a body can do is pray. And you know what they say about the Lord helping those who help themselves.”
“Yes. Thanks again for your concern.” Vanessa paused to regard him thoughtfully. “By the way, Lawrence, was that you operating the Boston Whaler that almost collided with Lowell's sailboat last week?”
Fear sprang to the gardener's dark brown eyes. “Oh, yes um. I'm so sorry about that, Miss Paris, really I am. Me and my buddies, we'd been out having a good time on the water and Bart, who owns the boat, asked me if I'd like to try my hand at driving it. I'm sort of a land-lubber myself, you see, just like this here mutt we were talking about.”
“Well, you nearly ran us down. You must be more careful. Especially when the waterways are so jammed with holiday boaters.”
He hung his head repentantly. “Oh, yes um. That'll never happen again. I swear. Truth is, I realized the danger myself and signed up at the marina for a water-safety course.”
“That's good. Very good.”
The older man tipped his brimmed straw hat and motioned outside. “I gotta get going, Miss Paris. Gonna be a scorcher of a day, I'm afraid. Time to set up the sprinklers.”
She gave a forced smile, hoping she hadn't come on too harsh. Her conversation with Ruby about Lowell moments earlier had unnerved her, leaving her tense and edgy.
“See you later, Lawrence. And don't stay out in the sun too long.”
After he'd disappeared, she refocused her energies to the inane task of folding the rest of the towels. Yet Lowell's image kept hovering on the fringes of her mind. So far all week, she hadn't talked to him more than a total of thirty minutes. She yearned to be with him, to share that something beautiful she and Ruby had contemplated together. Yet she was seeing less and less of him--and the longer he stayed away, it felt as if he were slipping out of her reach forever.
* * *
Next evening, after hauling in the crabpots, Vanessa sat cross-legged on the dock watching the last glimmers of sunlight reflecting off the water. Dusk was gathering, like plush velvet, splashing shadows of indigo and slate against the distant shoreline. To the west, not far from a waxing moon, the evening star glittered, one solitary jewel poking through the heavens. A gull flapped, coming to land only inches from her feet. It cocked its head and blinked a beady eye inquisitively in her direction.
Vanessa felt no urgency to leave. She needed to memorize every color and texture, fix in her mind the sights, smells and sounds that made up this tapestry of loveliness. Already the days were growing noticeably shorter, a gnawing reminder that the summer was more than half over.
“Good evenin', miss.” A fisherman, who'd just finished tying up on the far end of the pier, sauntered by and greeted her.
“Any luck?” Vanessa asked politely.
“Nope, not this time,” he answered with a wan smile. “Maybe tomorrow.”
She watched his retreating figure grow smaller until it had faded into the shadows. On the shore near pilings of driftwood, two campfires flickered. The voices of parents and young children carried across the water while the faint smells of charbroiled hamburgers drifted her way.
Suddenly she spied Lowell striding down the dock, carrying a grocery bag.
Something caught at the base of her throat. Without a doubt, he was returning back to the sailboat again after another long day on the Sound. How she'd missed him this past week.
Wearing cut-offs and a white polo shirt, he drew nearer. “Hungry?” he asked, sending her a disarming smile. “I just came from the market in town on my way home from Barachman Bay. “The fishing was lousy,” he added, as if for the benefit of anyone who might be eavesdropping. The intensity in eyes belied his casual voice.
“Well, I guess it has been a while since the last time I ate,” she admitted.
“Good. I've bought a loaf of French bread, a bottle of white wine and fresh crab and t-bone steaks,” he went on levelly. “I decided that since it's such a terrific evening, I'd barbecue on the deck.”
She studied him a long moment. The sun had deepened his already bronze tan. Tiny lines of fatigue fanned out from the corners of his eyes.
Smiling again, he pulled her to her feet, and for an immeasurable moment, he didn't let go.
A short time later after he'd broiled the steaks on the deck of Sea Breeze, he brought them inside and set them on the counter in the galley.
“So what have you learned?” she asked in a hushed voice as she finished tossing a green salad with vinegar and oil.
He popped the cork on a bottle of white wine and poured, first her glass, then his. “Nothing very substantial, I'm afraid--but it's still early. So far, I've only gone out on four excursions. There's at least a half a dozen more guide services here on Tawanya Island and each one runs several times a week.”
For the next hour they shared small talk and laughter--eyes meeting eyes, hands touching hands. In the background, the mellow strains of soft jazz drifted from the CD player.
The scenario was disturbingly familiar. Here she was sitting face to face with him again, sipping fine wine, listening to the enchanting music--and the intimacy was becoming more overpowering with each passing moment...
Quickly she got to her feet. “It's time for me go,” she said. “Morning will come early for both of us.”
“Yes, it will.” He reached out and clasped her shoulders, facing her squarely. “I've missed you this week, Nessie. I've missed you terribly.”
“I've missed you too.”
In the dim light of the cabin, she could detect the play of emotions flickering across his face: caution, longing, fear, indecision. The lonely sound of a fog horn wafted across the bay.
Urging her against his broad chest, he threaded his fingers through her hair, causing shivers of delight to course through her.
“Ah, Nessie,” he murmured. She could feel his heart thudding. “I don't like being away from you like this. I don't want you to go.” Hungrily his lips played against hers.
Abandoning all heed, she kissed him back. Their tongues touched, darted intimately. She could never get enough of him. Never.
Sometime later--she couldn't be sure when--their embrace ended.
“Oh, Lowell, I love you so much,” she murmured, resting her head on his broad shoulder, reluctant to break the contact. “I...I wasn't sure...I wasn't sure about anything before...but now I am.”
A strained silence followed. As her eyes riveted on him, she saw the color drain from his face.
“Sit down,” he said thickly.
She did. He positioned himself next to her on the daybed.
“I think we'd better talk.” A shadow passed over his face.
“What is it?” she asked in a small voice.
He got up, crossed the room and snapped off the CD player. Then he seated himself next to her again, this time an arm's length away.
“When you first came back home, I told you I wasn't in any state of mind for a relationship,” he began haltingly. “I...I do care about you, Nessie. I care deeply. But sometimes caring isn't enough...”
Her stomach twisted as she waited for him to continue. “As you know, I took leave from the L.A. police force in hopes of working through some things...” He wedged his folded hands between his knees and stared down at the floor.
“Yes...go on.”
“One day not long before I left, my partner and I were on patrol together. I call Garrett my partner, but he was more than just that. He was a friend too. Garrett Vanaken and his wife Muriel had three wonderful little boys.”
She lifted her gaze to the brass-framed photo across from them. “That picture...those children...are they their sons?”
“Uh-huh.” He swallowed hard. “Garrett and Muriel often asked me over for Sunday dinners and trips to the zoo with the boys. Next to yours, maybe, I've never seen such a happy, close-knit family. When Garrett and I weren't spending t
ime with them, sometimes we went off together for a day of sailing. He owned a boat a lot like this one.”
“So what happened?” she prompted softly.
“Garrett was new on the force, just a couple of years out of the academy. That day we were on duty together, we spotted a pick-up with a burned out tail light on the interstate. Though the driver pulled over as soon as he saw our flashing lights, it turned out he had no intentions of cooperating. Garrett approached him to issue a warning while I stayed back in the patrol car to radio in...” His voice broke. “I should've covered Garrett...but I got careless...I figured a broken tail-light was no big deal...we both did.” He put his head in his hands, unable to go on.
“And? Then what?”
He looked up again and drew in a steadying breath. “The driver of the pick-up had a gun...and lots of cocaine...a history of drug charges...he undoubtedly panicked, figuring he'd get caught. The guy fired twice. Garrett died on the scene. Another cop who happened to be driving by witnessed what happened and pulled over...we managed to get the guy on the ground...spread eagle...then hand-cuffed him.”
“Oh, no! How tragic,” she breathed. “I'm sorry, Lowell. So sorry.” She longed to reach out and touch him, but some-thing held her back.
“Yes, it was more than tragic.” The angles of his face hardened as he carefully avoided her gaze. “It was a stinkin' injustice. I should've been the one gunned down, Vanessa. Not Garrett. Not a dedicated family man with a wife and three kids. I made a bad call. I let myself get sloppy. I should've covered his rear, but I didn't.”
“Oh, Lowell...you mustn't beat yourself up that way. That kind of guilt can only be counterproductive. You mustn’t let it destroy you.”
He shook his head. “I was the officer with the most experience. I should’ve known better.” He faltered. “Besides...I know what it's like to grow up without a dad. I know what that can do to a family. If anyone should've been killed, it was me--not Garrett. I don't deserve to be happy. I don't deserve to marry and have a family of my own.”
Sydell Voeller Special Edition Page 33