by Marta Perry
He nodded. What had she been about to say before changing her mind? He’d probably never know.
“Sorry. I guess I’m a pretty poor substitute.”
“Don’t say that.” The words burst out of her as she looked up, putting her hand on his. “Please don’t think that. We love having you here. It’s not—”
He touched her lips with his fingers, hushing her, indescribably moved by the caring in her face. “Don’t.” The word came out in a murmur. “I wasn’t…”
He didn’t mean to do it—didn’t even think about it. But her lips were warm against his fingertips, and there was so much caring in her eyes that rational thought slid away. And then he was kissing her, his arms going around her, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Her thoughts tumbling crazily, Annabel responded to the kiss, her hands grasping Travis’s arms, feeling his strength and caring.
He drew back after an endless moment, and the cool breeze off the water touched her lips. And in that instant, all the doubts rushed in. She couldn’t do this—couldn’t get involved with anyone, couldn’t trust her own emotions, not now, not when…
“I’m sorry.” He let her go carefully, seeming to withdraw. “I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.” She blinked, realizing that tears were spilling over onto her cheeks. She wiped them away with her fingers.
Poor Travis. He probably thought she was crazy, bursting into tears because he’d kissed her.
“I’m sorry. I’m acting like an idiot.” She managed a watery smile.
“No problem.” His tone was casual, but she heard the hurt and embarrassment beneath it.
“Look, I…we can’t leave it like that.” She caught his hand, drew him down next to her on the bench seat. The marina was empty. Darkness drew in quickly on a December evening on the water. No one could see or hear.
Travis sat, but he looked as if he were ready to spring up and stride away. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“Yes, I do.” She took a breath. “It’s not you. I wasn’t upset or annoyed or…or anything.”
She’d enjoyed the kiss, but maybe it was better if she didn’t say that. She took another breath, trying to steady herself.
“Two years ago I was engaged to be married. On Christmas Eve. He…broke it off right before the wedding. Didn’t quite leave me waiting at the altar, but it was close enough.” She had to get this out quickly or she wouldn’t manage it.
“He must have been crazy.”
She blinked, meeting his gaze. “I don’t think he saw it that way.” She tried not to picture Foster’s face when he told her he couldn’t go through with it. “It was the right thing to do. I know that now. We couldn’t get married if one of us wasn’t sure. His decision was just so hard to accept.”
It had flattened her, and that was the truth of the matter. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t seen it coming. Or maybe she’d been too busy with all the details of the wedding to pay enough attention to the groom. That wasn’t a very pleasant thought.
“Anyway, I guess my emotions still run pretty high at this time of the year. The silliest things remind me. I don’t want to…to…”
She lost her forward momentum then, and she couldn’t manage to say anything else.
She didn’t want to risk getting involved with anyone else. She stared down at her linked fingers, twisting together. Now she’d made Travis uncomfortable, blurting all that out. She’d made a mess of this for sure.
Travis’s hand closed over hers, gripping them in a firm squeeze. “It’s okay. I understand. It’s just…bad timing.” His chocolate-brown eyes seemed to darken. “Christmas can be an emotional time for people—especially when our lives change.”
She knew without asking what he was thinking. Luke had told her about the woman Travis had been in love with—about how her love hadn’t been strong enough to survive his accident.
She couldn’t say anything about that. Or could she?
She took a deep breath, murmuring a silent prayer. “I know that coming here is a big change in your life. You’re probably missing all the friends you left behind in Alaska. If you were there, you’d be celebrating Christmas with them.”
He was silent for a long moment. He still held her hands clasped in his. Maybe he’d forgotten that he was holding them.
“I’d been looking forward to Christmas up there.” He said the words carefully, as if they might break. “Maybe the first time I was really excited about it. But after the accident…” He stopped. “Luke told you about that, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He said you put yourself at risk to take care of your crew.”
His cheeks reddened a little under his tan, just visible in the reflection of the Christmas lights. “He would have done the same. So would Adam, Hugh or your father, for that matter. That’s what we do.”
“I know.” Her throat was tight. “I’ve been around the coast guard all my life. But I still admire you for it.”
He shook his head. “The thing was that after I got well enough to return to duty…” He stopped, as if not sure he wanted to go on.
“You requested a transfer.” She finished the thought for him, wanting to help. Wanting him to keep on talking but afraid to mention the woman unless he did.
He took a deep breath. “Luke told you about Linda, didn’t he?”
“I’m sorry. He wasn’t gossiping, honestly. He thought…” She stopped, not sure what had been behind Luke’s telling her. “Maybe he thought I’d understand, because I’d been through it.”
A muscle twitched at the corner of his firm lips. If she’d made him angry at Luke, she’d done more harm than good.
“He might have been right about that.” Travis stared down at their clasped hands, but she wasn’t sure he saw them. “I thought what I had with Linda was the real thing. That this Christmas I’d be with someone I loved, and—”
He stopped, so abruptly that she knew there were things he didn’t want to tell her.
“Well, anyway, looks like we’re in the same boat.” He gave an unconvincing smile and reached over the railing to pat the hull. “In more ways than one.”
If he wanted to make light of it, all she could do was go along with him, even though it made her heart ache for his pain.
“That’s us, all right,” she said lightly. “A pair of losers in the game of love.”
“So, what happened between us…we’ll forget about it. We’ll go back to being friends. Okay?”
She forced herself to meet his gaze and found nothing but friendship there. She let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. I’d hate to think I’d lost that.”
She tried to smile. She tried not to think that she might want more from Travis than he was willing to give.
Chapter Five
Annabel did her best to focus on introducing the youngest children to the new kittens, teaching them to treat the tiny creatures with gentleness. For children whose own lives hadn’t been marked by much of that, it could be harder than it sounded.
“Easy,” she cautioned. “Patches will let you touch her kittens, but you mustn’t be rough with them. She won’t let you do that.” Patches had allowed her now-lively kittens to be brought out into a patch of sunlight outside the barn, but she circled them, alert for trouble.
“Why not?” Joshua, one of the six-year-olds, always had to know why.
“Because she’s their mamma. She takes care of them.”
“Like my grammy takes care of me,” he said, nodding, apparently satisfied.
“That’s right.” She knew Joshua’s story. His mother was in a rehab facility, not for the first time, but his grandmother, an iron-willed woman, wouldn’t let her grandchildren suffer for that.
She glanced toward the barn. Travis and Sam were showing Kyle and the other two boys how to groom Toby, the donkey. Toby had made great strides recently. Travis, on the other hand…
Not surprisingly, he’
d avoided having any conversation with her that dipped below the surface since that night on the boat. She could understand that. She’d felt much the same after telling him about her almost-wedding.
Not that either of them had really said all that much. They were alike in that—private people who didn’t show their pain readily.
In contrast with his, her private grief didn’t seem to amount to all that much. Her mind winced away from the pain he’d endured. To lie in a hospital bed or struggle in therapy, afraid as he must have been that he’d never fly again…that was bad enough. To have the person he loved walk away at a time like that would have been devastating.
So it was important not to think too much about that kiss. It couldn’t have meant anything, and she had to treat it lightly, as Travis was.
“Gently,” she cautioned again. She stroked Joshua’s dark curly hair, her touch loving. “Like that.”
He gave her an engaging grin and petted the small kitten, his grubby hand soft on the fur.
The cat’s tail began to twitch, suggesting that she’d had enough.
“Okay, that’s it for now.” She began scooping kittens back into their basket. Forestalling the inevitable protest, she added quickly, “I’m going to show you how to gather eggs from the chickens. Come along now.”
The children at her heels, she walked toward the chicken coop. As she neared the little group around the donkey, she saw that Travis had given Kyle the job of putting ointment on the nearly healed sores.
A tingle of apprehension shivered through her. If Travis’s suspicions about Kyle were true, was that really a good idea? “Sam, would you mind going on an egg hunt with this crew? I’ll give Travis a hand with the donkey.”
Sam nodded, relinquishing the halter to her. “Come on, guys. But watch the hens. Sometimes they peck.” He made a snapping motion with his fingers, making them giggle, and led them off.
Travis didn’t seem to pay any attention to her. All of his focus was on Kyle as he guided the boy’s hand over the marks.
“Someone hurt him, you see.” His voice was gravelly, as if he spoke through a tight throat. “Nobody should do that.”
Alarmed, she plunged into the conversation. “Good work, Kyle. Now, I want you boys to scoot along and get Dolly’s saddle and bridle. We’re going to see how good you are at saddling up.”
Predictably, the boys dropped what they were doing and raced for the barn. Travis just looked at her, his dark eyebrows drawing down.
“Afraid of what I might say to him?”
“I hope you have better sense than to bring up your suspicions to Kyle.” Her pulse slowly returned to normal. That was exactly what she’d feared.
He turned back to the donkey, taking up the job Kyle had started. “Somebody has to do something.”
“I’m not ignoring your judgment about Kyle.” She might think he was way off base, but she wouldn’t ever ignore anything that had to do with a child’s safety and happiness. “I’ve already talked to Pastor Tim about it.”
Travis looked at her then, still frowning. “And what did he say? That it couldn’t be true?”
“No, he did not.” Anger spurted up, and she tried to get a handle on it. “He took what you said very seriously. But you have to understand that without more to go on, an accusation like that can be disastrous.”
“It’s disastrous for the child, if it is true.”
“I know.” Pain shivered through her at the thought, wiping away the anger. “Pastor Tim is consulting with a child psychologist on how best to handle the situation. He can’t just blurt out an accusation with no evidence—he’d lose any chance he has of helping the family.” She reached out to touch Travis’s arm, finding it taut with tension. “Pastor Tim will do his part. Our job is to be Kyle’s friends—to make this the one place where he might feel comfortable enough and safe enough to tell the truth. You do see that, don’t you?”
He was silent for a long moment. Then he swung toward her. “Okay, Annabel. I trust you. We’ll do it your way.”
His fingers closed over hers. Her heart lurched, as if he’d touched it. She cared about him, she thought, dismayed. She cared about Travis, way too much.
Annabel didn’t understand, Travis had decided. How could she? She might know intellectually that people abused their children, but she didn’t have the experience to understand why he felt so strongly about Kyle.
He’d pretty much decided that the best thing he could do was stay out of her way, because if he was around her, he wanted to badger her about what Pastor Tim was doing. He wanted to push, to insist, but he’d agreed they’d do it her way.
Staying away from Annabel wasn’t working out so well, though. At the moment, on a mild December evening, he stood next to a horse-drawn carriage, waiting to help Annabel give buggy rides as part of the Old Town Mt. Pleasant Christmas Festival.
“Okay, we’re all set.” Annabel, a bright red stocking cap perched on her head, hurried up to him, waving a handful of brochures. “They’re selling the tickets at a central booth, so all we have to do is drive—and talk to the customers, of course.”
He gave her a hand up to the high seat. “I’ll drive. You talk. You’re the one who grew up in Mt. Pleasant. What am I going to tell them about Mt. Pleasant?” Or Christmas, for that matter.
“That sounds fair.” Annabel took a deep breath, seeming to settle her nerves. “We’re supposed to do a trial run through the streets first, just to be sure we know our routes. Folks will see us and rush to get tickets. That’s the idea, anyway.”
He glanced at her, wondering if she really was as nervous as she sounded. “What are you worried about? We’ll get plenty of business.”
The carriage ahead of them moved out, so he released the brake and slapped the lines. The horse, a heavy draft horse named Buddy, moved forward obediently.
“I’m not worried, exactly.” Annabel tugged at the red mittens that matched her cap. “Well, maybe I am. I don’t think I’m the best person to entertain a bunch of tourists. Or even a buggy load of people I know, come to think of it.”
“Why not? You know this area like the back of your hand. You’ve been telling me about it ever since I arrived, haven’t you?”
He slanted an amused glance at her. Annabel was so calm and confident at the farm with the animals or at home with her family. This gave him a different view of her.
“Oh, I know the history, all right. I can tell you that the place on the corner is one of the oldest houses in Mt. Pleasant and that the church in the next block was hit by an errant shell during the battle of Fort Sumter. But that’s different than talking to strangers.”
“You’ll do fine.” He took one hand from the lines long enough to pat her arm, touched by this glimpse of insecurity. “Just pretend you’re showing me around.”
“I’ll try.” She didn’t sound very sure. “But Amanda would do it so much better.”
He blinked. “What does Amanda have to do with this? She doesn’t know how to drive a horse, does she?”
“Goodness, no.” Annabel grinned at the thought. “I meant the talking part. Daddy always says that Amanda never met a stranger. She can walk into a crowd of people she never met, and the next thing you know, someone is telling her his life story.”
“That must be a big help to her as a reporter.”
They made a right turn onto the next street, and he began to get the route set in his mind. Not difficult at all—the organizers had set it up with all right turns, so they wouldn’t be crossing traffic.
“I guess. But she’s always been that way, ever since I can remember. Even when we were kids. If we got into trouble, I always counted on Amanda to talk our way out of it. And when Mamma took us out to tea with the older ladies—” a little shiver went through her “—Amanda loved that kind of thing. Getting dressed up and making conversation over tea and cake was her idea of fun. She’d have them eating out of her hand.”
“What were you doing while the ladies were eating out
of Amanda’s hand?”
“Hiding in the corner,” she said promptly. “Trying not to be noticed.”
A wave of sympathy went through him. He’d always figured Annabel had a perfect childhood. Maybe she had, in comparison to his, but that didn’t mean she’d come out unscathed.
“Your mother shouldn’t have forced you to go if you hated it that much.”
“She thought it would help me get over my shyness.” She shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. I always had Amanda, and I could count on her to bear the brunt of it.” Her lips twitched. “Amanda never had a shy moment in her life.”
He pictured the poised, confident reporter. No, maybe she hadn’t. “You liked being a twin?”
“Who wouldn’t? Don’t get me wrong, I love my brothers. But a sister is special in a way, and having one who’s your exact age is wonderful.” She gave a little chuckle of laughter. “She’ll never admit we’re the same age, though. She always has to point out that she’s twenty minutes older.”
“No downsides to being a twin?” He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a sibling. He’d always been grateful there hadn’t been anyone else to try to protect from Dad’s anger. But maybe he’d missed out on something, too.
Annabel seemed to be considering that question. “Well, I suppose it was a little disconcerting to be seen as a unit all the time. Everybody in the family always referred to us as ‘the twins’ as if we weren’t two separate individuals.”
“Everyone?” That had to hurt, always being linked to someone else, especially when that someone else was talkative, lively Amanda.
“Not Miz Callie,” she said, a trace of surprise in her voice. “I hadn’t thought of that until you asked, but Miz Callie always sees each of us as individuals.”
“You’re lucky in your grandmother.” Small wonder they all spoke of Miz Callie with such affection and admiration in their voices.
“I am,” Annabel agreed. She tucked her mittened hand into the crook of his arm. “That’s enough about me. What about your grandparents? Were you close to them?”