He leaned over the railing, staring down into what seemed like a vast quilt of stars. The water was calm tonight, scarcely a ripple, and the sky was clear. He found that he was gazing at the reflection of Vega, Heather’s star, and he wished he hadn’t thought of her. Usually he welcomed memories of his wife, or at least that was the way it was before he and Molly got involved.
Involved. That was such an impersonal word for her effect on his emotions, on his life. In a short period of time, Molly had become so important to him that he didn’t like to think of that inevitable day when she would go back to Chicago.
Was it inevitable? Probably.
Melancholy settled over him as he realized that he and Molly were ill-matched in various important ways. From everything that she and Emmett had said, he’d gathered that Molly had been a child of privilege. Emmett had made it clear that his three grandchildren would inherit everything he owned, which was considerable. One day Molly would be rich. And Eric was barely making ends meet.
He didn’t hear Molly as she stepped out on deck. When she came to stand beside him at the railing, he glanced up, saw that she was visibly upset.
She related the conversation with her sister, and before she had finished, he put an arm around her shoulders. He had never seen her so distressed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish the news was better.”
“Grandpa has been such an important influence in our lives,” Molly said in a low tone. “I don’t know how we will get along without him when he goes.”
“Let’s hope he’ll pull through this, Molly. I wouldn’t count Emmett McBryde out yet.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m not.”
They stood like that for a long time. Finally a large cabin cruiser motored past, creating a wake that rocked Fiona until they both had to grasp the railing to keep from losing their footing on the deck. Vega’s reflection fractured, along with that of all the other stars, and this only increased Eric’s descent into the doldrums. Soon, like the reflection of the star that was hers, his memories of Heather would disappear. He didn’t know if he could bear it when he could no longer recall the exact way her mouth curved up at the edges just before she laughed, or the scent of her hair, or the smoothness of her skin when he reached over to touch her at night.
Molly sighed, and he was about to echo it when she spoke. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to be alone. I’m not very good company right now.”
He did mind, he discovered, and fiercely. Hard on the heels of his yearning for Heather came a new and disturbing emotion, one even more unsettling than memories of his loss. He might not remember those things about Heather, but he was most aware of the sweet upturning of Molly’s mouth when she smiled, and the way her hair smelled when freshly washed with whatever shampoo she used, and how sometimes at night she rolled toward him with the motion of the boat and settled gratefully into his arms. Which is where he wanted her right now.
She treated him to a brief, brisk kiss on the cheek and turned. As she pushed past him, he reached for her, but she was already too far away and didn’t even notice.
“Good night, Eric,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Not in the morning. Come with me to bed, he wanted to say, but he respected her wish for privacy and understood that at the moment, it took precedence over his own needs. He watched her mutely until she had disappeared down the companionway.
When he turned back toward the railing, the water had regained its previous calmness, and the stars had again become a softly rippling quilt. But Vega, if he wasn’t mistaken, was not nearly as bright as it had been before.
Chapter Thirteen
Molly spent a restless night, alternately waking and sleeping. Once when she woke, she heard Eric moving around the cabin. It sounded as if he was getting a drink from the fridge. Toward morning, she moved toward him, wanting the comfort of his warm body, but he wasn’t there. Later, she heard the pump switch on and knew he was taking a shower. When she woke for good, she lay gazing up at the watery reflections on the ceiling and wondering what would happen when she returned to Chicago. How long would it take before she stopped expecting Eric to be there in the night? Would she immediately get back into the groove of eating alone, sleeping alone, going places alone?
Finally, around six-thirty, she rose and wrapped her robe around her before going up on deck. She’d thought that it was too early for Eric, but he was there before her. He didn’t look as if he’d slept any better than she had; his beard was bristly, and deep purplish circles rimmed his lower eyelids.
He smiled and handed her a cup. “I thought you’d be up early. I couldn’t sleep last night, either.”
She accepted the coffee and sat beside him, drawing her feet up under her. During the night, a dank fog had settled over the marina, and a pale scrim of mist swirled around the boats. Molly shivered even in her thick velour robe. “I guess I didn’t want to be alone as much as I thought,” she admitted. The warm steam rising from the cup carried with it the full, fragrant smell of coffee, making her feel better already.
“We can fix that tonight,” he said. He placed his arm across the back of the seat and caressed her shoulder. His hand was warm, gentle.
She took heart from his smile. “What’s our plan for today?”
“Since you asked, can you look after Phoebe? I have to drive to Jacksonville to get the engine part. Micki said I can take the van as long as I deliver some anchor chain to a customer along the way, and I figure that’s faster than waiting for the part to arrive here in Greensea Springs.”
“Phoebe and I can work on the Barbie clothes after she finishes her school assignments. Then, while you’re repairing the engine this afternoon, we could visit the Farrells.”
“That’s cool.” He drained his coffee. “I’m going to cook breakfast for all of us. Bacon or sausage with your eggs?”
“Bacon. I like the way you do it.” Instead of frying, Eric broiled bacon, which made it crispier and less greasy.
“Three breakfasts, coming up,” he said. They heard Phoebe opening the door of her small stateroom, and Eric cadged a stealthy kiss before his daughter could climb up the ladder. Molly grinned at him as he disappeared below.
Yes, how would she ever accustom herself to life without Eric? Somehow she couldn’t imagine such a thing.
MOLLY CALLED HER GRANDFATHER from the laundry room, where she was overseeing the washing of Phoebe’s clothes while Phoebe, sitting in the nearby bougainvillea arbor with her head bent over a textbook, worked on her reading lesson.
“Hi, Grandpa,” Molly said with forced cheeriness when Emmett picked up the phone.
“M-Molly Kate, is that you?”
“Yes, and I’m phoning early in the day because I’m concerned about you.”
Emmett cleared his throat. His voice wasn’t hearty by any means. In fact, he sounded more frail than she’d ever heard him.
“No need to worry, Molly. I’ll be out of this looney bin in a few days, and when I am, we’re all going sailing on Fiona again. You, me, Patrick and Brianne, like old times.”
“That’s right. Eric is going to get the engine part today—did he mention that? The pump arrived in Jacksonville this morning.”
“No, but that’s good news. How long before you arrive in Fort Lauderdale?”
“Less than a week, probably.”
“Good, Molly.” He hesitated as if gathering his thoughts. “Molly, dear, how did you get back to Florida? You were here last night. Did you catch a plane in the middle of the night?”
Molly digested his words as she watched the clothes spin around and around in the dryer. “Why, no, Grandpa. I’ve been right here in Greensea Springs all along. Brianne arrived in Minneapolis last night. She caught a flight from Chicago after her plane from Australia landed at O’Hare.” Had he confused his only granddaughters? Except for red hair, she and Brianne looked nothing alike. Her sister was short, only five-two. Brianne had freckles and h
er eyes were brown.
“Your sister was here?” Her grandfather stumbled over the words and began to cough.
“She’s meeting with your doctor this morning. Maybe that’s why you haven’t seen her today.”
“She’ll be back? She won’t be returning to the Outback?”
“Brianne is home for the foreseeable future, Grandpa. You behave yourself and don’t give her a hard time.”
“She should find a guy and settle down. You, too, Molly Kate. Marriage between two like souls is the greatest gift you’ll ever know. My Fiona and I were married for fifty years, and I wouldn’t be the man I am today if not for her gentle guidance and support. Through thick and thin—as she used to say, through sick and sin. Though there was no sin on either part, mind you. I want to see you happily settled with someone you love. Sharing experiences with a spouse is the only way to find real happiness.”
It was on the tip of Molly’s tongue to inform him that she’d never found a person with whom such a relationship would be remotely possible, but she realized with a jolt that this was no longer true now that Eric was a part of her life.
“Does your silence mean that you agree with an old man’s ramblings, Molly Kate?”
“Perhaps,” she managed to say.
Emmett’s voice was kind as he responded. “I’ve had a wonderful life with a lot of love in it,” he said. “I wish the same for you.”
“Thank you, Grandpa,” she replied, a lump in her throat. “Would you mind if I called you later today? I miss you so much.”
“Why not. There’s nothing else to do around here.” He sounded as if he had rallied.
“You’ll have Brianne nearby. That should make it more interesting,” she said, blinking tears from her eyes. She’d always been the closest of any of them to their grandfather, and it pained her that she couldn’t be with him when he was so sick.
“Let’s hope so. Goodbye, Molly Kate. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Get well soon, and we’ll be sailing together before long.”
After she hung up, she sat in the webbed lawn chair provided by the management and stared at the washing machine, which was clicking off after the final rinse. She was concerned about Emmett and his mistaking Brianne for her. His confusion about everyday events seemed to grow every time she talked with him.
Well, Brianne would have phoned if she was through talking with Dr. Talwani. Molly could do nothing but wait.
“Phoebe, how is your lesson coming along?” she called.
“I’m almost finished. Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be ready for lunch. What can we have?”
“Peanut butter and jelly?” Molly had learned through experience: when in doubt, peanut butter and jelly was the way to go.
“That’s good. I have a sand wish I need to make today,” Phoebe replied before bending over her book again.
Molly herself had some she wanted to make. It might not help to wish for her grandfather’s improved health on a peanut butter sandwich, but it probably wouldn’t hurt, either.
ERIC IDLED THROUGH the drive-in window at a burger place just off I-95 after picking up the fuel injection pump for Fiona. He ordered a burger, engaged in the usual crackling exchange of words with the girl at the register, neither of them understanding what the other was saying, and as a result ended up with no fries, even though he’d ordered the large size. For a few seconds he considered driving through again, but decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. While waiting for traffic at the stoplight, he unwrapped the burger and ate it on the way back to Greensea Springs.
This time away from Molly was a good chance to think things over, and the main thing on his mind was that after he’d installed the part, they’d head for Fort Lauderdale. Assuming good weather, the trip might take five days, six at the most. Then Molly would catch a flight out. She was eager to be with Emmett and wouldn’t delay her departure. In his mind’s eye he visualized Phoebe crying as Molly said goodbye. He would be stoic, calm.
No. He’d be in agony over losing the only other woman in the world aside from Heather who had ever meant anything to him.
For a few minutes, he allowed himself to indulge in daydreams about how it might be if Molly didn’t have a sick grandfather and a job that needed tending. He could get work on a boat in the Virgin Islands; tourists intent on island-hopping often required a captain. Lots of times, couples worked on yachts where the man sailed the boat and the woman cooked. Scratch that one—Molly, though trying valiantly and improving daily, didn’t cook with enough skill for them to pull that one off. Besides, they would have Phoebe in tow, and delightful though his daughter was, he’d be the first to admit that people wealthy enough to own their own yachts usually didn’t enjoy sharing their limited space with kids.
Perhaps the three of them could take up residence on some remote Caribbean island where they’d farm pineapples and plantains, live in a palm-thatched hut and play all day on the beach. He’d have plenty of time to spend with Phoebe, which meant that they could speed ahead with her home schooling. However, his daughter needed other children; he understood this now that he’d seen her in action with the Farrell kids. And Molly wouldn’t take to living in the middle of nowhere with little intellectual stimulation. He wouldn’t be able to watch Jeopardy!, either.
So maybe he and Molly could buy their own boat. A catamaran, perhaps, that didn’t draw much water, which meant that they’d be able to sail right up to those beautiful white beaches in the Bahamas. The ocean would provide most of their sustenance; they’d eat fish and lobster. And where would they get enough money to buy such a boat? His paltry savings didn’t amount to much. As for borrowing, his credit rating probably wasn’t even on the books anymore. Molly had more money than he did, but he was too proud by far to let her buy the boat or own a bigger share of it than he did.
Speaking of which, what made him think Molly Kate McBryde would stick by him for the long haul, anyhow? Again he asked himself, what did he have to offer her? He had no job, no real money, no good prospects. All he had was his love for her and a seven-and-a-half-year-old child.
He loved Molly. He could picture the two of them together for the rest of their lives. But ask her to marry him? No way. He wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she laughed in his face.
And he wouldn’t blame her if she did. He wasn’t up to her speed, and he knew it. Had known it from the beginning. So maybe the best thing to do was to let this thing play itself out to its natural end and say “so long.” That was a depressing thought, and he felt glum all the way back to the marina.
Once there, he busied himself with Fiona’s engine. Now that he had the engine part, repair would be a snap. They’d soon be on their way. This should have cheered him, but it didn’t.
“DOES THAT MEAN you’ll be leaving?” Dee asked Molly in resignation. Eric was back on Fiona installing the new part, and Molly and Phoebe were visiting the Farrells.
Somberly, Molly nodded. “It’ll be a couple of days, most likely.” She tried to concentrate on hemming the tiny troll costume that Dee was making for the puppets, but it was difficult when out of the corner of her eye she could see Phoebe playing so happily with Corduroy and Lexie in the backyard. They had built a fort out of an old cardboard refrigerator box, and Lexie, wearing a gilt-paper crown on her head, was cheering on Corduroy and Phoebe, who were jousting. They were riding old brooms, which served as their horses, and their lances were foam noodles, the kind kids play with in the swimming pool.
“I wish we didn’t have to go,” Molly said unhappily. “It will break Phoebe’s heart.”
Dee, after lifting the baby out of her high chair, came to the window to watch the kids. “Lexie and Corduroy will miss her. You’ll have to bring Phoebe back to visit.” She colored quickly and attempted to cover up her gaffe. “I mean,” she said, “it would be fun if you could.”
“Perhaps Eric can,” Molly said, her spirits taking a dive. Merely thinking about being separated from Phoebe and Eric made her s
ad.
Dee sat beside her on the window seat and smoothed Jada’s dress. “I keep forgetting that you’re not Phoebe’s mother. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
Molly tossed aside the costume and got up to get a glass of water from the refrigerator. “You didn’t. I realize it must seem strange to people that we’re not really a family. I mean, people see us together all the time. It’s—it’s hard to believe that we only met a few weeks ago when—when—” It was no use. She couldn’t hide her anguish from Dee, her best friend here. She set the half-full glass carefully on the counter and buried her face in her hands. The tears wouldn’t stop; they stung her eyes, dribbled through her fingers, splashed on the tile floor.
Dee settled Jada in the playpen and rushed to give Molly a hug. “Molly, I’m sorry,” she said soothingly. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s—it’s that I love him. And I love Phoebe. I can’t imagine going back to Chicago and resuming a life that seems cold and lonely by comparison. I thought I was happy, Dee, but maybe I wasn’t.”
“Sometimes,” Dee said softly, “we get a wake-up call. Maybe getting stranded in Greensea Springs was yours.”
Molly dried her eyes. “Wake-up call? This is more like a fire alarm. What am I going to do?”
Dee picked up her glass and filled it. “You’re going to have a glass of water, and you’re going to talk it out. You’ll feel better afterward, I promise.” She led Molly back to the window seat and planted the glass in her hands. Then she handed Jada a teething biscuit and sat down. “I’m all ears,” she said. “Suppose you tell me why you can’t stay with Eric and Phoebe.”
“It’s complicated,” Molly said distractedly. In the backyard, Corduroy had evidently bested Phoebe at jousting, and Lexie was rewarding him with a garland made of oak leaves. Phoebe was writhing on the ground, groaning realistically but stopping occasionally to offer advice about how Corduroy could keep his new headgear from falling over one eye.
“Never mind that it’s complicated,” Dee advised. “I’m here to listen.”
The Mommy Wish Page 18