“Craig and the kids are still playing in the water,” he said, but he stood when she did.
Keeping her eyes on the little group in the water, she began to walk briskly up the beach, skirting mounds of dead seaweed and driftwood at the high-tide line. Eric strode silently beside her, focusing straight ahead. She was surprised when he spoke.
“About the time when you lit into me about not settling anywhere,” he said. “Remember, last Saturday after Phoebe and I came back from her art class…?”
That wasn’t a conversation she was likely to forget. She frowned slightly, on the verge of asking why he’d raised a subject that was better forgotten.
“I’m sorry I accused you of fomenting Phoebe’s rebellion,” he said. “It wasn’t right. I guess that in my mind, the only thing that had changed in our lives lately was that you’re on the scene, and it made you suspect. I mean, she’s always been such a tractable child, easy to manage. Lately—well, you heard her that day.”
“I wish I hadn’t,” Molly said, keeping her eyes focused forward.
“I was so concerned about the things she was saying that I couldn’t think straight. I should have seen that Phoebe is getting older and wiser. She’s seen for herself that her friends live differently than we do. It’s only natural that she would want a life like Lexie and Corduroy’s—the dancing lessons, the big yard to play in, a safe street where she could ride a bike. I shouldn’t have been so quick to accuse.”
“So, um, this is an apology?” Molly said.
“I hope you’ll accept it as one,” Eric added in a rush.
A glance at him told her that he was truly contrite. “Of course. As long as you understand that I never want to come between you and your daughter.”
“I realize that. I’m sorry, Molly.”
“Goddess Molly,” she corrected.
He grinned. “Okay, Goddess Molly. Are we friends again?”
“We always were,” she said as she waved to Phoebe, who, from her inner tube close to shore, had spied them walking up the beach.
He shot her an exuberant smile. “This makes me really happy,” he said. “I’ve been agonizing over the whole thing ever since. That’s part of the reason I pulled back, avoided you, didn’t include you when Phoebe and I found interesting things to do. That’s over now, Molly.”
“All right, let’s not talk about it.”
He held his hand up, and after a moment’s hesitation, she slapped him a high-five.
“Are you kids hungry?” Eric called, a question that provoked three emphatic yeses and one thumbs-up from Craig.
“We’ll have lunch ready in a few minutes,” Molly said, and the kids all shouted their enthusiasm.
Molly and Eric worked together to set out the turkey, pimiento cheese and peanut butter sandwiches, as well as potato chips, apple slices and cookies. Molly almost remarked about how well they pulled in tandem, but then thought better of it. She didn’t want Eric to take a casual remark to mean something more, and so she kept her mouth shut.
But they did excel at anticipating each other’s moves, at staying out of each other’s way and filling in when the other didn’t think of something that needed to be done. It was a skill that they had learned while jockeying around each other in Fiona’s small galley, and Molly hadn’t understood until now that the ability translated to other tasks and other places.
When Eric beckoned the others to the picnic, she remained quiet, thinking about this new discovery and its ramifications. If she and Eric meshed so well in one way, could they also become good partners in other ways?
AFTER LUNCH, Molly slathered on a thick layer of coconut-scented sunscreen and settled herself on a big green towel under the umbrella. Near the water’s edge, Eric and the others were sculpting a huge sand sculpture of a shark, complete with seashells for teeth. She had opted out of the exercise, reserving some time alone in which to call her grandfather, but no one had answered the phone in his room at the clinic.
Molly was sure that Emmett was undergoing more tests, but it rankled that no one kept her abreast of what was happening, least of all him. Emmett bristled every time she asked about his health, sometimes retreating into abrupt retorts sounding like “mmpfh.” The last time they’d chatted, the only information she’d pried out of him was the news that her sister Brianne was due back any day from Australia.
As Molly watched, Eric left the group in the sand and strode toward her. Once in the shade of the umbrella, he stood looming over her for a moment, and the breeze flung drops of seawater on her skin, where they quivered and shimmered like so many jewels.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” he said apologetically before spreading his towel beside hers. He sat down and tipped a rainbow droplet from her forearm with his finger.
“It’s okay. You cooled me off. Want some lemonade?”
He shook his head. “Not at this moment.” He picked up the sunscreen.
Molly flipped over on her stomach and rested her head on her arms. “We’ll be leaving soon, right?”
“Once the shark is finished.”
“It seems a shame. Sculpting something so special and losing it to the next high tide.”
“The thing is to enjoy it while you can. Like relationships.”
She opened her eyes. “Want to explain that?”
“You spend a lot of time on them, then something comes along and washes away the whole edifice that you’ve built so carefully.”
“You’re speaking of you and Heather?”
He shook his head and glanced down at her. “Not entirely. I’m talking about the two of us, you and me.”
Molly rolled her eyes and rested her head on her arms again. “Maybe you shouldn’t go there.”
“Shouldn’t I, Molly?” he asked softly. She felt his hand, smooth and cool from the water, brush her shoulder as he slid his arm around her. She lifted her head and blinked, surprised that he had moved so close; another couple of inches and their lips would touch.
“Eric—”
“Don’t talk,” he said, and then his lips covered hers.
They were warm and salty and pliant, and her lips surrendered without a struggle, tasting the tang of the sea and the indefinable essence that was Eric. He prolonged the kiss when she would have twisted away, and then she no longer wanted to end it but to go on kissing him until the tide washed them away. Like the sand-sculpture shark, which was now finished, as evidenced by the three children whooping their way up the slope from the ocean.
“I guess that’s that,” Eric said under his breath when he finally released her, and they both inserted a proper space between them. Molly thought that Phoebe, who was first to reach them, gave them both an overly curious once-over, but then the others arrived and started talking.
“We’re going to the other side of the island to hunt for horseshoe crabs,” Corduroy said with an air of self-importance. “My dad said we could.”
“Have you ever seen a horseshoe crab, Dad?” Phoebe asked. “Corduroy knows everything about them.”
“Not everything,” Corduroy protested. “But almost.”
“My dad knows everything because he watches Jeopardy!” Phoebe declared, prompting Eric to deny it.
“I bet he doesn’t know much about horseshoe crabs,” Corduroy said. “Did you know that they’ve been around since prehistoric times? And they’re not really crabs? And the biomedical industry uses them to detect toxins in intravenous medicine?”
“They’re also smelly and ugly,” Lexie insisted, whereupon Corduroy chased her, shrieking, up the beach.
“Okay, let’s get going,” Phoebe said, clearly excited at the prospect of finding out exactly what was so great about horseshoe crabs anyway.
Molly stood up and began to toss things into her beach bag. Craig deputized Lexie and Phoebe to police the area for trash, and Corduroy helped fold the beach umbrella. Soon they were traipsing toward the dune path leading to the other side of the island.
Phoebe and the other c
hildren sprinted ahead with Craig, who kept up steady warnings to watch out for Lizard Man. Molly waited for Eric, now lagging behind because he had lingered to make sure that no one left anything on the beach.
“I wish you’d relax about us,” he told her as he drew abreast. “Let nature take its course.”
“You make it sound so simple,” she said. “As if there aren’t other considerations.” She aimed a meaningful glance toward Phoebe, who was directly ahead of them.
“It doesn’t have to be difficult,” he pointed out. “Not when the foundation of this relationship is based on caring, understanding and mutual respect.”
So that he wouldn’t be able to read her expression, she pulled ahead of him on the path. And because she didn’t allow them to be cut off from the others for the rest of the outing, the topic was effectively squelched.
MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
HI THERE,
I DON’T NO WHAT IS GOING ON. I SAW DAD AND MOLLY LYING REAL CLOSE TOGETHER ON THE BEACH. THEY LOOKED IMBARRASED. DOES THAT MEAN THEY ARE IN LUV?? I LIKE MY NEW FRIENDS. I GOT TO SEE A HORSHUE CRAB. IT LOOKS A LOT LIKE A ROBO-KLEEN ONLY IT HAS A LONG STRATE TAIL. IT IS PRETTY UGLY BUT I DID NOT SAY THAT TO CORDROY.
I WANT TO STAY IN GREENSEE SPRINGS FOREVER. IF YOU CHANGE TWO LETTERS IN MOLLY’S NAME, IT SPELLS MOMMY. I HOPE SHE WANTS TO BE MINE.
LUV FROM PHOEBE ANNE NORVALD
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Eric was gone before Phoebe and Molly woke up. He left a note saying that he would be working on Miss Take and to not expect him back for lunch.
“It’s Saturday. That means we can do something fun.”
“Don’t you have your art class?” Molly asked absently. She stirred sugar into the contents of her mug and sat down on the lounge in the salon beside Phoebe.
“No, because it’s Thanksgiving weekend. I know—we could take the beach towel back to the Farrells.” When the families had been separating their belongings at the boat launch after they came back from Bottlenose, Phoebe had somehow ended up with a towel belonging to Lexie.
“Hey, good idea,” Molly told her, her spirits spiraling an upward turn at the idea of seeing Dee. “I’d like to find out how Jada is doing. I hope she’s over the rash.”
“Me, too. I like babies, don’t you?”
“I guess so,” Molly said slowly, not adding that she hadn’t been acquainted with too many.
“I mean, Jada’s so cute. I’d like a baby sister just like her. No, a baby brother.”
“Mmm,” Molly said, not wanting to encourage this line of thought. Still, she wondered what it would be like to have a baby. To nurture another human being inside her body, to give birth to it, to hold it in her arms and, most of all, to love it.
“If I have a baby brother, I want to name it Thoth,” announced Phoebe. She produced one of her new headbands from under the seat of the lounge. “Will you help me with my hair, Molly?”
“Why would you want to call a baby brother Thoth?” Molly asked.
“Don’t you remember? He was the big blue goddess Nut’s scribe. I like the way the name sounds.”
“It’s suitable for a character in a myth, but people don’t usually name their children Thoth.” Molly tried not to laugh, but it wasn’t easy to keep her expression neutral.
“People don’t usually call their boys Corduroy, but it’s still a nice name,” Phoebe countered, standing still so Molly could begin brushing her hair.
“I guess you’ve got a point,” Molly said, but the conversation made her think about what she’d name a baby if she had one. She’d always loved the names Nicholas for a boy and Emma Kate for a girl, the Emma in honor of her grandfather.
Of course, such a choice depended on the baby’s surname. A child’s name should have a pleasant flow to it and be composed of euphonious sounds. And if Molly’s last name happened to be Norvald, either Nicholas or Emma would be lovely.
“WE’RE GOING OVER to the Farrells’,” Molly called down into the cabin of Miss Take. “We’ll see you when we get back.”
Eric’s head appeared in the opening above the ladder. Cobwebs stuck to his black T-shirt, and he carried a wrench. He reached up and pushed his baseball cap farther back on his head. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Jada was sick yesterday.”
“I spoke to Dee on the phone a few minutes ago, and she said it was only diaper rash. Jada’s fine.”
“That’s good.” His glance was admiring as it skimmed her figure. “You got a bit of sunburn, didn’t you.”
“I should have worn more sunscreen.” That he was examining her so carefully embarrassed Molly. She was wearing khaki shorts and a jade-green jersey top, plus sandals. She’d clapped a wide-brimmed hat on her head to ward off the sun and bundled her hair up into it.
“You look wonderful,” he said warmly. “Your hair’s too pretty to cover, though.”
“Thanks.” The compliment left her feeling awkward. “We’d better get going,” she said. “I left Phoebe over by Fiona, making friends with a couple who just arrived. They have a dachshund.”
“Wait, I’ll walk up the dock with you. I have to use the phone in the office.”
“You can use my cell,” she said, unclipping it from her belt.
Eric accepted the phone from Molly. “I’d better go below and find Harold’s number. I wrote it on a piece of paper.” He started down the ladder.
While Molly waited, she perched on the deck rail. Out in the river, someone was trying to sailboard. He managed to pull himself upright but soon fell into the water. He was having fun, Molly thought. She’d like to try it sometime.
Suddenly she heard the distinctive three-tone ring of her cell phone. “Eric?” she called.
“Mind if I answer it?” He grinned up at her from below.
“No, of course not. Go ahead.”
Knowing that most calls she received while she was on vacation weren’t urgent and work-related was a relief. She settled against the railing again and observed with interest as the sailboarder resurrected himself from his dunking. Soon he was aloft again, and she could think of nothing more pleasant than sitting here on this yacht, keeping her eye on Phoebe as she petted the new dog at the marina and letting someone else take her calls.
ERIC, TRYING TO MAKE HIMSELF comfortable amid the clutter of various engine parts, fumbled with the unfamiliar phone until his fingers found the right button.
“Hello?”
A long pause, so long that he thought there was no one there. “Molly?” said a deep voice. A cautious male voice, in fact, and it wasn’t her grandfather.
“Eric here.” He spoke briskly, trying to sound businesslike.
Another pause. “Oh. May I speak to Molly?” The voice had taken on a guarded tone and came across as less than friendly.
He pushed the mute button. “Molly, it’s for you,” he yelled up to her. He heard her talking with Phoebe, who had evidently just walked up. Molly interrupted their conversation to speak to him.
“Eric, ask who it is so I can return the call.”
He unmuted the phone. “She said she’ll phone you back.”
“You can tell her Chuck called. She has my number,” the man said succinctly.
Is that so? Eric thought with a degree of bewilderment. Molly had given him the impression that she was unattached, yet this Chuck person projected an unmistakable proprietary air.
“It was Chuck,” he called to Molly after the man hung up.
Absolute silence greeted this announcement.
“Chuck?” she repeated after a moment.
“Right. He didn’t think it was necessary to leave his number, he said.” He avoided infusing his tone with any meaning whatsoever, tried to remain nonchalant.
An audible sigh. “Okay. Say, Eric, keep the phone as long as you want it. I won’t need it anyway.”
“You’re not going to return his call?” He couldn’t help being curious.
“No, and Phoebe and I are eager to get going.” Molly st
ood up, her tall figure blocking the bit of sunshine that made it down the companionway.
He peered up at her. “Okay, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Her lips were set in a tight line, and she looked annoyed.
“I’m sure. Phoebe, let’s roll.”
He heard the two of them giggling as they started up the dock and thought what a pleasure it was to hear them enjoying each other’s company. He had never considered how Phoebe needed the gentle influence of a woman in her life after her mother died. She’d made no secret of the fact that she wanted a mother, but for a long time he’d thought that there wasn’t anything he could do about that.
Now maybe there was.
But. Who was this man, Chuck? And what did he mean to Molly Kate McBryde? The only way to find out was to ask her, but he didn’t have any real reason to do that.
Well, maybe he could find one. He hoisted his wrench and got back to work, trying to think of how to broach the subject. After turning the situation over in his mind, he realized that perhaps if he made her feel comfortable enough with him to trade confidences, she might tell him what he wanted to know.
Unfortunately, to foster the kind of atmosphere that was conducive to such revelations, he’d have to open up to her himself.
And that, he realized with a certain amount of amazement, he really wouldn’t mind.
“DAD! DAD! GUESS WHAT I’m going to do!” Phoebe flung herself at him as soon as she stepped over the gunwales of Fiona, almost knocking the magazine out of his hands.
“Hold on, Peanut,” he cautioned as he righted himself. “You almost knocked me overboard.” He set the magazine, the latest issue of Small Business Journal, aside and took in the glorious spectacle of Molly’s long legs as she climbed aboard. This was the kind of scenery he could appreciate, and in his opinion, it was even better than the sight of Bottlenose Island in the distance or the Atlantic Ocean beyond.
“I’m invited to spend the night with Lexie. We’re going to camp out in the backyard. Can I go, Dad? Please?”
Eric looked at Molly. She was nodding slightly, and he recognized this as a signal that it would be okay.
The Mommy Wish Page 12