by Irene Hannon
“If I’d been more diligent, my wife and son would be alive today.” His voice rasped as he dragged the pain-etched words from the dark crevice in his soul where they’d been buried for three long years.
“But…that doesn’t make sense. I haven’t known you long, but I can’t reconcile your conclusion with the responsible, conscientious behavior I’ve seen since we met. I can’t believe what you’re saying is true.”
“Believe it.”
“But…you’re not the negligent type, Craig. If anything, you’re too thorough.”
“Not that day. And all it takes is one slip to saddle you with a lifetime of regret.”
“What happened?” She leaned forward. He could see her in his peripheral vision, but he couldn’t make eye contact. Not until he got through this.
“My wife was the daughter of a career navy man, and she knew her way around boats and the ocean. Her attention to safety was one of the reasons I never worried when she took Aaron out on our small sailboat. She was usually more careful than I was.”
“The day it happened I was on duty in the search and rescue command center. I’d given up rescue swimming six years earlier, when Aaron was born, figuring it was too dangerous for a family man.” A mirthless smile twisted his lips. “Ironic, isn’t it? I gave up my risky job to protect myself from the sea, yet they were the ones the sea claimed.
“Anyway, we’d had a report of some minor seismic activity in the Aleutian Trench that morning. Not significant enough to generate a tsunami warning, although we were watching it. I considered alerting Nicole, but she hadn’t said anything about taking the boat out and I got busy. Mistake number one.”
He massaged his brow, then reclasped his hands. “To make matters worse, I’d taken the adult-size life jackets out of our sailboat the night before. I’d intended to replace them the next day with new ones I was going to pick up on my way home from work. Again, I neglected to tell that to Nicole. Mistake number two.
“Early that afternoon, we began getting calls about a moderate-size rogue wave offshore. Shortly after that, a report came in of a capsized pleasure boat. Our boat.” He swallowed, blinking several times to clear the moisture from his eyes. “By the time a rescue team arrived, it was too late. Aaron had his life jacket on, but he’d been trapped inside the cabin when the boat turtled. Nicole had suffered a blow to the head, probably from the boom. She didn’t have a life jacket, thanks to me. They both drowned.”
Only the steady ticking of the clock on the mantel broke the sudden, oppressive silence in the room.
“Oh, Craig.” Kate’s voice was laced with tears when at last she spoke. “I can’t begin to imagine what you went through.”
He dropped his head and focused on the complex grain pattern in the flooring beneath his feet. “Words can’t describe the anguish. And now you know why I don’t deserve a second chance.”
“But…the mistakes weren’t all yours. If your son was wearing his life jacket, your wife must have known the adult jackets were missing. Besides, very few flotation devices will prevent an unconscious person from drowning.”
“If Nicole was only dazed, it might have saved her. And if I’d told her about the seismic activity, she would never have gone out in the first place.”
Silence filled the room before she spoke in a quiet voice. “Now I understand the motivation behind your overzealous safety program here. But Craig, you can’t plan for every contingency. Life doesn’t work that way. The accident was the result of a tragic sequence of events. No one would blame you.”
He turned toward her at last. To his relief, there was compassion in her eyes. But that didn’t change the facts. Or dilute his culpability. “I blame me. And I’ll carry that burden of guilt for the rest of my life.”
“You could give it to God instead.”
He shook his head at her gentle suggestion. “I know that’s supposed to work in theory. But I’ve tried. It won’t go away.”
“Maybe the real problem is that you can’t forgive yourself.”
“Maybe.” He drew a steadying breath. “But I don’t see that changing.”
He watched her, wishing he could find a way to let the guilt go. To open himself to the kind of love a woman like Kate could offer. To seek comfort and healing in her loving arms.
Yet neither of them was looking for romance.
Suddenly exhausted, he rose. “I need to leave.”
“Thanks for your help with the asthma attack.”
“I caused it.”
“Not on purpose.” She rose, too. “Just like you didn’t cause the boating accident on purpose.”
“The consequences of that were tragic, though.” He moved toward the door to retrieve his umbrella.
She stayed by the couch, bracing her hands behind her as she leaned on the back. And Craig found himself wishing he had Mac’s talent. He’d love to capture her as she was now, backlit by the dancing flames in the fireplace, her eyes soft with compassion. It was a different view of Kate than the one Mac had painted. But it was equally powerful and true.
“Is the offer of help with Vicki’s room still on the table?”
“Of course. How about if we show up around six o’clock?”
“That works for me.” He twisted the doorknob. “I hope you have a quiet night.”
“Thanks. So do I.”
The rain continued to beat a staccato rhythm on the pavement as he stepped outside, and Craig dipped his head as he jogged toward the car.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, he paused to savor the golden light spilling from the windows of Kate’s house. Tonight, in her small cottage, he’d felt more at home than he had anywhere in the past three years. His rented condo in Washington had been sterile and impersonal. The house he now occupied felt cavernous. To him, it was just a place to sleep. Not a home.
But he needed to make it one, he reminded himself. For Vicki’s sake. And he needed to create a family, even if it was never more than the two of them.
Two weeks ago that had seemed like an overwhelming task. Far more intimidating than any of the dangerous, roiling seas he’d dropped into during his days as a rescue swimmer.
Yet thanks to a feisty charter captain and her charming daughter, he no longer felt adrift. Kate and Maddie were living proof that two people could be a family. And with their assistance—and their example to follow—he was hopeful he could give Vicki the kind of loving home she deserved.
As he put the car in gear and headed toward the house he would soon occupy with his daughter, he forced himself to put aside his own loneliness and focus on the blessings he’d received since coming to Nantucket. He liked his work. He’d found a welcoming faith community and taken the first steps to reconnecting with the Lord. And in Kate and Maddie and Edith and Chester, he’d begun to build a support system. Things were looking up.
Nevertheless, he still said a silent prayer for God’s grace to continue to fill his days and for courage to carry on. For life—like the sea—was rarely placid for long. And he wanted to be prepared for any turbulent waters that lay ahead.
Chapter Eight
“It’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it?”
At Craig’s question, Kate scanned Vicki’s bedroom. A matching white headboard, small dresser and nightstand were set atop a bland beige carpet. Utilitarian mini blinds hung at the two windows. A navy blue blanket covered the twin bed, which had been made with military precision. The walls were white and bare, the top of the dresser empty. A brass lamp stood on the nightstand. The only youthful touch was a lonesome teddy bear that rested against the white case of the pillow on the bed.
As she tried to come up with a diplomatic comment on the Spartan furnishings, her daughter stepped in with a single-word assessment.
“Yuck.”
“Maddie!” Kate felt her cheeks grow warm. “That’s not polite.”
“But it’s true.” Craig sent the little girl a reassuring smile as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Thank you for being hones
t, Maddie. So where do we start?”
Kate pulled a measuring tape out of her purse, trying to ignore the muscular forearms revealed below the rolled-up sleeves of his cotton shirt. “I need to measure the windows.”
“I can do that. Without a ladder, too.” He winked at her and took the measuring tape, the brush of his fingers against hers sending a tingle all the way to her toes.
Backing up a step, Kate dipped her head to hide the telltale flush that had once again warmed her cheeks, digging in her purse for a notebook. “If you read off the measurements, I’ll jot them down.”
Once that was accomplished, she tucked the notebook back in her purse. “I think we can do this in two or three stops. How do you feel about painting?”
“On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a two. But I don’t mind wielding a brush for a couple of hours if you think that will help. What color did you have in mind?”
“Pink,” Maddie chimed in. “That’s the bestest color.”
Craig grinned. “Pink it is, then. Shall we, ladies?”
As they exited the room, Maddie tugged on Kate’s hand. “I have to go potty, Mommy.”
“First door on the right,” Craig told Kate. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”
Maddie kept up a running commentary as she used the bathroom and washed her hands. When she finished, Kate opened the door, only to have Maddie head in the wrong direction.
“This way, sweetie.” She went to retrieve her, smiling as she tucked the little girl’s hand in hers. “It’s easy to get confused in a new place.”
“It’s kind of a big house, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Compared to their snug cottage, anyway, Kate amended.
“Is that the lootenin’s room?” Maddie stopped outside a room illuminated by a soft light.
Peeking in, Kate noted the queen-size bed, also neatly made. This room, too, was unadorned except for a photo on top of the dresser that faced the door. The light wasn’t very bright, but Kate could tell it was a happy family group. A younger-looking Craig had his arm around a blond-haired woman, while a little boy with brown hair grinned back at the camera from between them.
Feeling as if she was spying, Kate hustled Maddie down the hall. “I guess it is, honey. Now we better hurry or bedtime will come before we have a chance to visit all the stores.”
Craig was waiting for them in the kitchen, as promised. He’d donned a dark brown leather flight jacket that showed off his trim waist, and he reached for Maddie’s coat as they approached.
While he helped her daughter slip her arms in and button up, Kate shrugged into her own quilted jacket and surveyed the kitchen. An empty can of soup stood on the counter by the sink, and a package of bagels rested next to a toaster. No other food was visible.
“If you’re wondering, I did stock up on kid-friendly fare.”
The man had an amazing ability to read minds, Kate concluded. “Kids can be pretty picky.”
“I figured that.” He secured the last button on Maddie’s coat and stood. “I got peanut butter and jelly, white bread, cereal, hot dogs, pizza and ready-to-nuke chicken strips.”
“Wow!” Maddie grinned up at him. “You did real good on the food part, Lootenin.”
“Kid pleasers, for sure,” Kate agreed. “You might want to throw in some fresh fruit, too.”
“Pineapple,” Maddie supplied. “And strawberries.”
“Duly noted,” Craig promised. “Shall we?”
For the next two hours, Kate hustled them from store to store, selecting a self-stick woodland-fairy border with matching curtains and comforter; pink sheets; a lamp with a whimsical winged fairy seated on a toadstool; a small combination toy chest and bookshelf, including books and toys to go with it; two colorful posters and, at Maddie’s suggestion, a stuffed pink unicorn with a sparkly mane. On the practical front, Kate also helped Craig pick out a car seat. They’d transferred Maddie’s to his car for the evening excursion.
Once back at Craig’s house, she kept an eye on Maddie, who’d fallen asleep, as they carried in his purchases. After that chore was completed, Craig moved Maddie, car seat and all, back to Kate’s car and strapped her in. Shutting the back door, he joined her on the driver’s side.
“Will you be okay driving home?”
Fog had moved in during their ride back to his house, and it swirled around them now like a gossamer gray veil, obscuring his features. But she couldn’t miss the concern in his tone. Nor stop the sudden rush of wistfulness that surged through her at his nearness.
“I’ve been all over this island in much worse conditions. And I don’t have far to go.” She tossed her purse onto the passenger-side seat, wishing she could think of some excuse to extend the evening. But it was late, Maddie was tired and she had a full teaching day tomorrow. It was time to say good-night. “We better head out.”
“Right.” A couple of beats of silence passed. He didn’t move. “Listen…I really appreciate your help tonight. The stuff you found—Vicki will love the room.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “I had a lot of fun picking it out.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “Spending other people’s money can be quite a kick.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Immediately regretting her impulsive statement, she shifted away and started to slide into the car. But his hand on her arm stopped her.
When she risked a peek at him, all traces of levity had vanished from his face and his eyes had darkened.
“I feel the same way, Kate. It’s been years since family-type activities were part of my life. Tonight brought back happy memories.”
“For me, too.”
Somewhere in the distance, a boat whistle echoed in the fog. A long, plaintive sound that made Kate think of lost souls seeking safe harbor. Searching for peace and rest and safety.
Just as she—and the man standing inches away from her—were.
Both of them had sustained gut-wrenching losses. Both had struggled to deal with the aftermath of tragedy. But Craig was taking steps to get his life back on track. Like her, though, he’d reconciled himself to a solitary life.
Except she was beginning to waver, thanks to the man standing inches away from her.
As the fog intensified, cutting them off from the real world, Craig shifted closer.
Now, no more than a whisper separated them.
The night might be chilly. The undulating gray mist might be damp. But between them, the air was warm. Inviting.
Kate heard the soft chafe of his leather jacket as he lifted his arm. Felt the touch of his hand on her cheek. Let her eyes drift closed as an acute awareness rocked her.
He was going to kiss her.
And she wanted him to. Desperately.
Stunned by the power of her emotional response, Kate panicked. Slipping from his grasp, she ducked into the car and tried to fit the key in the lock. Her fingers were trembling so badly it took three tries. “I need to go.”
“Kate…I’m sorry.” Craig leaned down, and she forced herself to look at him. He seemed to have paled, though it might have been a trick of the swirling mist. But she wasn’t imagining the distress that tightened his features.
“It’s okay. And I really do have to go. There are a few things I need to take care of before I call it a night.”
He didn’t move. “Why do I feel as if I’ve just shot myself in the foot?”
Drawing a deep breath, Kate did her best to sound calm and in control. Even if she felt the opposite. “Honestly, Craig, it’s fine. Tonight we were reminded of happier times, and emotions took over. It happens. It’s no big deal.” She turned the key in the ignition. “Have a safe trip to Wisconsin.”
“Thanks.” Several seconds of silence ticked by. Then he shut her door and backed away.
As Kate eased out of his driveway and pulled onto the street, she took one more look at him. He was standing where she’d left him, half obscured by the mist. In seconds he completely disappeared.
But the aftereffe
cts of their near-kiss didn’t disappear quite so easily. Despite what she’d told him, it had been a big deal. She hadn’t kissed a man since Mac died. Hadn’t even considered kissing a man. Any man, let alone one she’d met less than two weeks ago.
What in the world was going on?
The explanation she’d given Craig might account for tonight’s incident. Anyone could get carried away. But it didn’t account for her heightened emotions in general. At the most unemotional moments, an image of Craig, with his cobalt blue eyes and broad shoulders, would flash through her mind, distracting her from whatever she was trying to do—grade papers, fix dinner, balance her checkbook. For whatever reason, despite their rocky start, the man had gotten under her skin.
And as she drove through the enveloping mist that was erasing all the comforting landmarks of her familiar world, she had no idea how she was going to deal with it.
When a knock sounded on her back door Friday night as Kate unloaded the dishwasher, she wiped her hands on a towel and headed across the kitchen.
“Is Mrs. Shaw bringing us a treat?” Maddie looked up from her coloring book, her expression hopeful.
“How do you know it’s Mrs. Shaw?”
“Because only the Shaws come to our back door. And Mr. Shaw’s favorite TV program is on tonight.”
Her four-year-old’s deductive reasoning never failed to impress Kate. “Maybe.”
But she hoped not. If her neighbor was bearing food, it meant she was either hunting for information or had news to impart. And lately, a certain lieutenant had been high on her list of newsworthy topics.
As Kate pulled the door open, the plate of oatmeal cookies in Edith’s hand confirmed the purpose of her visit. But Kate was more distracted by the mass of damp wool dangling from the woman’s other hand.
Craig’s sweater.
She’d forgotten about him hurling it into the backyard the night of Maddie’s asthma attack.
“I found this on your bench.” Edith inclined her head toward the sweater and raised an eyebrow.
“That’s the lootenin’s,” Maddie informed her, peeking under Kate’s arm.