Whisper Beach

by Shelley Noble

  “But I still don’t see why you had to run in the first place. Did you even tell Joe?”

  Van shook her head.

  “Because of Dana? Gigi told me you caught them going at it. But that didn’t last long enough for her to get her clothes back on. He loved you. We all thought you two would end up getting married. You could have been married before the baby came.”

  Van stood up abruptly. Walked to the window. The old anger, hurt, and humiliation overflowed into the present. When the words came, they were harsh and louder than she’d meant. “It wasn’t Joe’s baby.”

  She stood facing the two women, defiant. At least it was out. That part was out at least.

  “Well, hell,” Dorie said, her voice subdued. “Are you sure it wasn’t Joe’s?”

  “Positive.”

  Dorie looked at her hard. Raised her eyebrows in question.

  Van shook her head and Dorie let out a big sigh. Evidently still not convinced, she asked, “You and Joe never . . . ?”

  “No.”

  “And the father?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember his name. I’m not sure I even knew it then. I just had a knee-jerk reaction and . . .” She ended with a shrug.

  “You always were so responsible.”

  “And the one time I wasn’t, look where it got me.”

  “Did you tell your father?”

  Van nodded. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. He was yelling at me about something else, and I just blurted it out.” After all these years, knowing that his words could still hurt was appalling. “He told me I was a whore just like my mother and to get out. So I did.”

  Dorie took a couple of deep breaths, let them out. “Just as well, but you could have stayed with me.”

  “I knew you would take me in and don’t think I don’t appreciate knowing that. But what would have happened then? I’d just finished high school. Had no job except at the Blue Crab, and how could I work and take care of a baby, while watching Dana and Joe together, when I had just screwed up my whole life.”

  “So you would have kept the baby?”

  “Of course.” Because God knew when she’d called Suze for help she had been too far gone to care about saving herself.

  The doorbell rang and they all jumped.

  Dorie levered herself from the chair and went to answer it. She came back carrying a pizza box and a large paper bag.

  “I’ll get plates and stuff.” Suze practically ran out of the room.

  Dorie pulled containers out of the bag and placed them on the coffee table. Finally she looked up.

  “I don’t mean to sound uncaring. But that was all a long time ago. Why are you still holding on to it?”

  “I’m not. I never even think about it. I’m a different person now. It’s just being here . . . I don’t know. I’m successful. I make enough money to live comfortably in Manhattan. I have friends.” When she had time for them.

  “No significant other?”

  “Not at the moment.” Hardly ever. For significant reasons.

  Van saw Suze hovering in the doorway, plates clutched to her middle like some kind of armor.

  “Hurry up,” Van said with forced enthusiasm. “I’m starving.”

  Suze passed the plates over.

  While Suze opened containers, Dorie slid a slice of pizza onto a plate and handed it to Van.

  But when Van reached for it, Dorie held on, studying her face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. But someday I hope you’ll tell me the whole story.”

  DORIE STOOD at the sink letting the water run. She’d insisted on doing the dishes, not that there were too many, and leaving the girls alone. Seems like she had a bunch of broken people on her hands. At least Harold was out of the way, and with any luck he’d be gone long enough for her to see things through.

  Suze had called her months ago. She wanted to rent a room for a few months. She said she needed a quiet place to work for the winter. She had a year off to write some paper on some poet Dorie had never heard of. Of course, Dorie’s knowledge of poetry consisted of Rod McKuen and limericks she heard down at the pub.

  Dorie would be glad to have her, and there was no way she would charge her rent. But what the hell was Suze doing, staying in a stuffy room in an old beat-up house, when she could live in a mansion with a whole suite of rooms two miles away? It didn’t make sense.

  Then there was Van. Van worried her. She might be successful. Hell, Dorie knew she was successful, but she didn’t seem happy. Not by a long shot. And that just wasn’t right.

  Gigi’s life was in tatters way before Clay fell to his death. She hadn’t been right since Van left twelve years before. It’s like she just gave up. She’d always talked about being a nurse, but suddenly she was marrying Clay Daly instead and working at the furniture store. Now she was alone and back home with Amelia taking care of the children. Nate and Amelia didn’t have a clue as to what to do. Dorie thought the girl needed a big dose of therapy, though she wouldn’t dare suggest it.

  And then there was Joe. Dorie had never believed in broken hearts until Van left town and she’d watch that boy pine away. Everybody commiserated for a while. Then made fun of him and he laughed, too, like it was a good joke that he’d get over. But it seemed to Dorie he just never got over it. Her. Never got over Van.

  Sometimes you saw two people together and you thought, Wrong, wrong, wrong. But sometimes, you knew that two people were right for each other, righter than they could be with anyone else.

  And if ever two people were meant to be together, it was Joe and Van. After Van left, Dorie had watched Joe go out with one girl after another, never sticking with any of them for very long. Then she’d worry about him when he’d go weeks, months, without even showing up at the pub or the Crab; he was living and working on the farm. He told the boys he didn’t have time for fun.

  That was no way for a man to live. He was thirty-three now. That summer he’d been twenty-one and home from college helping out at the dairy and driving the dairy’s delivery truck. He saw Van, and his eyes popped right out of his head like one of those cartoon characters. Love at first sight.

  Hell, watching the two of them together was better than going to the movies. And then one little fight and she disappeared. It had never made sense. After all she’d endured, to run off over something like that.

  Now Dorie knew the real reason. Or part of the real reason. She hadn’t dealt with kids for years without being able to tell when one of them wasn’t telling her the whole truth. Van was holding something back, and maybe it wasn’t Dorie’s business. Maybe it just wasn’t her damn business. Still . . .

  She’d thought Clay’s funeral would be the perfect time to see what might happen. But for some reason Joe hadn’t even come to the funeral. Couldn’t be because he wanted to avoid Van. Nobody knew she was coming, including Dorie. And Van didn’t even ask about him.

  Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe it was too late for them, too much heartache, too much time, too much water under the bridge. And she was a fool for stirring up things better left alone.

  IT WAS LATE when Joe walked through the door of Mike’s Pub. He hadn’t meant to come back, the same way he hadn’t meant to stop by this morning. But here he was, standing just inside looking around the room before making his way to the bar. Mike had good enough food, but Joe had really come to hear about the funeral.

  There was an empty stool between Jerry Corso and Hal Daniels. They motioned him over.

  “Why the empty seat?” Joe asked as he sat down. “You guys fighting or something?”

  “Nah,” Jerry said. “Vinnie was here, but he had to get over to Pep Boys before it closed.”

  Mike pulled a beer for Joe and slid it toward him. “You eating?”

  “Burger and fries.”

  “Medium, got it.” Mike snagged a waitress and sent her back to the kitchen.

  “You at the funeral today?” Hal asked.

  Joe
shook his head and took a deep drink of the beer. It was cold, and after sweating all day at the marina, he felt like he was being frozen from the inside out.

  “Didn’t think I saw you.” Hal went back to peeling the label off his beer bottle.

  “Damn,” Jerry said. “Thirty-seven years old and phhhht. Gone. Just doesn’t seem right.”

  “No, it don’t,” Hal agreed. “But he’d been having a hard time of it for the last few years. Still, it was stupid to try to fix a roof by himself. Anybody taking up a collection for Gigi and the kids?”

  “Down at the station,” Jerry said. “Clay’s brother, Jack, organized it. He made sergeant just this spring, and I think he’s feeling bad that he didn’t help Clay out more when he was still alive. All of us are pitching in what we can, but nobody’s got much extra cash these days.”

  “True.” Hal lifted his beer. “How come you didn’t go to the funeral, Joe?”

  Hal’s question caught Joe off guard. He shrugged. “Had a hire. Can’t afford to turn down work, even for the dead.” Especially for the dead, he thought.

  Hal swiveled his seat around, started to stand, changed his mind, and swung back around. “Hell, Dana’s heading this way.”

  “Hey, boys.” Dana Mulvanney squeezed in the opening between Hal and Joe. “Started without me? Or you been drinking since the funeral let out?”

  On Joe’s far side, Jerry contemplated his beer.

  “Pretty much,” Hal said, and he called out to Mike for another round. “Whatcha drinking, Dana?”

  “Dirty martini.”

  “Didn’t see you at the funeral, or the get-together afterward, Joe.” Dana leaned against him, a routine she went through nearly every night that she came to the bar. Mike’s was a local hangout. Everyone showed up at least a couple of times a week, and some dropped in just about every night. Joe came in at least twice, mainly for dinner when he didn’t feel like cooking.

  Dana came in sporadically. And it spelled trouble when she did.

  “I couldn’t make it,” Joe said and turned to face her. “You want to sit down?” He started to get off the stool, but she put up a hand and stopped him. Then she let her fingers splay across his chest and linger there. Slowly she walked her fingers lower—and would have kept going if Joe hadn’t caught her wrist.

  She laughed and dropped her hand. “You’re no fun.”

  “Afraid not.” Joe glanced up and wished he hadn’t. He was close enough to see the bruise that she’d attempted to cover with makeup. She’d pulled her spiky dark hair over her cheeks, but it only called attention to what she wanted to hide. “Dana—”

  She turned away. “How about you, Hal? Has Mary Kate let you out for some fun?”

  “Mary Kate would have my fun and serve it to me on a platter,” Hal said. “Go on home, before Bud finds you in here.”

  “Oh, Bud’s over there flirting with a table of tourists.” Mike put three beers and a martini on the bar. Dana plucked the glass up and began fishing the olive out of it. “I really just came over to talk to Joe here. ’Cause I know he’s dying to know who I saw at the funeral today.”

  “I’m sure a lot of people were there today. Clay was a popular guy.”

  Dana smiled slyly. And Joe knew what she was going to say. He’d been waiting for it, expecting it. He’d prepared for it—maybe even hoped for it, but he couldn’t stop the shot of emotion that went straight to his gut.

  “Well, don’t you want to know?” The coy expression she’d perfected in high school looked a little tired on her thirty-year-old face—her thirty-year-old bruised face, he added. They should be doing something for Dana; it was too late for Clay Daly.

  “This better be good.”

  “Oh, it is, sweetie. It really is.”

  Chapter 5

  DANA PLACED HER MARTINI GLASS ON THE BAR, SLOSHING some of the liquid over the rim. Obviously not her first drink of the evening. When she let go of the glass, her hand drifted down to Joe’s knee.

  Joe turned his head to give her a friendly reminder of her boyfriend who was probably watching the whole scene. And met her face inches from his. He managed to pull back just as she pursed her lips in an exaggerated pucker.

  “Dana, cut it out. You’re just asking for trouble.”

  “Trouble’s my middle name.”

  “No,” Hal said. “Trouble’s your boyfriend over there. He’s looking this way and he ain’t happy.”

  Dana turned away from Joe long enough to take Hal’s chin between two fingers and plant a kiss on his lips.

  “That’s it.” Hal slid backward off his stool, grabbed his beer, and went to stand on the other side of Jerry.

  Dana pouted as she watched him walk away.

  Joe shook his head. “Dammit, don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”

  “Aw, c’mon, Joe. Can’t a girl have a little fun?”

  “Not when it leads to a shiner like the one you’re trying to cover with makeup.”

  Dana’s fingers went reflexively toward her cheek, before she realized what she was doing and snatched her hand down. “We just had a little tiff. That’s all.”

  Dana had stopped pretending that her bruises had come from accidents a long time ago. Now she didn’t even bother to deny it.

  The fire had just gone out of her. It started after Van left, but she really spiraled down when she hooked up with Bud.

  Bud Albright was a cop with anger management problems. He’d been censured a couple of times for rough handling of a detainee, but somehow he managed to stay on the force. Probably by taking his anger out on Dana instead of his collars.

  “All right, you were going to tell me who all was at the funeral.”

  “Not all, babycakes . . . But one particular person.”

  “Fine, but you’d better get it out, because Bud is headed this way.”

  “I’m not afraid of him.”

  “You should be.”

  Dana smiled. “Your girlfriend, that’s who.”

  “Dana, I don’t currently have a girlfriend. Can we just cut to the chase? My dinner’s here.”

  Mike put his burger in front of him and reached below the bar for ketchup and mustard. “Let the man eat in peace, Dana.”

  Dana made a face at him. Mike began scrubbing the counter, ignoring her.

  Joe reached for his napkin.

  “Van’s back.”

  Joe flinched even though he’d steeled himself not to react. But Dana had waited for his one moment of distraction before going in for the kill. The girl had black widow instincts.

  “Thought you might be interested.”

  “Well, Gigi is her cousin. Stands to reason she might come to the funeral.”

  “After twelve years? Are you serious?” The seductress and the syrupy singsong voice were gone; the old Dana stood before him, angry, belligerent, and spoiling for a fight.

  Joe would have welcomed the change if it hadn’t come in tandem with Van Moran’s reappearance.

  He didn’t know why Dana was still so angry after all these years. Nothing had happened to her. She’d managed to break him and Van up with her stupid flirtations.

  Van should have known he’d never take Dana seriously. He was a guy. A young guy and he enjoyed the attention, but he loved Van. He’d been pissed at her, but he’d always meant to make up with her. Then Van just up and left without a word, and he’d never heard from her again.

  And life went on.

  He’d gotten over it. He couldn’t figure out why Dana hadn’t. She still had her life, her friends; it was Van’s life that had changed. Van was the one who left, the one no one heard from again. Dana just went back to what she did best, flirting. And then Bud came along; but it still hadn’t stopped her—she reveled in causing trouble.

  She couldn’t seem to help herself.

  Joe had once asked why she kept at it. She’d just looked at him and said, “Guess God just made me cute, sexy, and mean as a snake.”

  She’d missed on all counts.r />
  At least in Joe’s mind. She was too hard-edged to be pretty, and her in-your-face come-on was anything but sexy—at least to him. And it didn’t get any prettier with age. And though she might not be hiding a heart of gold beneath her bitchy exterior, she wasn’t nearly as badass as she wanted people to believe. And that’s what kept getting her in trouble. She was like a bad kid, acting out for attention.

  He reached for the ketchup and shook some out on his fries. Screwed the cap back on, put it on the counter. Picked up his burger . . .

  Dana’s fingers walked up his thigh. “You’d have hardly recognized her.”

  He put the burger down.

  “Listen, Dana, I know you enjoy drawing this all out. But I’m hungry and tired; can you just please say what you’re going to say and be done?”

  Dana’s dark eyes flashed with interest or anger, he couldn’t tell. Nor did he care.

  “Well, if you really want to know. She’s totally sophisticated. Sle-e-e-ek.” She drew the word out. “And totally full of herself. Probably wouldn’t give any of us, including you, the time of day. In fact, she just came to the funeral, made a scene afterwards and left without even acknowledging anybody. Still the stuck-up bitch she always was.”

  “You know better.” Joe reached for his burger; this time it made it to his mouth.

  “Well, she was and still is,” Dana said, knowing his mouth was full and he couldn’t defend Van.

  “That’s so much horseshit and you know it.” Hal leaned over the bar so he could see Dana past Joe. “She was always nice. And if she didn’t have much time to party and get in trouble, it’s because she was working all the time to support her dad.”

  “Oh, and an angel, too. I forgot that part. All you boys thought so, didn’t you? Just because she wouldn’t put out for any of you. Except maybe for Joe.”

  Joe swallowed. “Okay, that’s enough. You’ve had your moment. Now it’s over. Van was here and I assume she left again after the funeral.” As a hint it wasn’t very subtle, but his patience was hanging by a thread.