by Lisa Ruff
Elaine arrived at their sides, looking at the couple with a proud smile. “A little water never hurt anyone. Besides, we’re going swimming later. We’ll all look just as water-logged then.”
“I think Kate and I will pass on the swimming. We’ve had too much fun around the water lately,” Patrick said. He tossed the cloth away and took his beer back from her. “Let’s get something to eat.”
Taking her arm, he drew her through the crowd to the barbecue. A tall man with dark hair turning silver presided over the smoking grill. He had on an apron that read I’d Rather Be Sailing, and a red baseball cap cocked back on his head at an angle. Kate immediately knew she was looking at Patrick’s father.
“Pop, this is Kate.” Patrick pulled her in front of him. “Kate, this is my father, Antonio Berzani.”
“How do you do?” Kate said, holding out her hand.
Antonio dropped his spatula on a plate. “Ellie! Is this the one?” he shouted to his wife. At her nod, he reached out and took Kate in a hug, lifting her from her feet before setting her gently back down. He held her at arm’s length, beaming a huge grin at her. He put a large hand on her belly, a gesture so like Patrick’s that Kate felt tears sting.
“Welcome to the family,” he said gruffly. “Both of you, welcome.”
He pulled Patrick into his arms then, hugging him with bluff blows to his back. “Patricio, you’ve done good,” he added, kissing him on both cheeks.
Kate felt the situation spin out of her control. “Oh, but—”
“We need to feed her, Ellie,” Antonio said. Elaine had come to stand at his side. “Give me a plate.”
Kate’s eyes widened as she saw two pieces of chicken, three sausages and a hamburger loaded onto the large paper plate and shoved into her hands.
“Get her some potato salad, Patricio,” Antonio instructed. “And some lasagna. Don’t forget the corn, either!”
Patrick steered her through the crowd to a table filled with dishes. “Don’t worry,” he said, taking another plate and filling it with various salads and savory treats. “I’m eating half of this. Just don’t let Pop know you didn’t finish it all by yourself.”
“Patrick, we do need to talk,” Kate said as he led her to a table near the side of the pavilion, under the spreading branches of a tall tree.
“Eat first, then talk. That’s the Berzani rules.”
“But they think we’re together.”
“Aren’t we?” Patrick took a drink of his beer, then laid a napkin on her lap and handed her a fork.
“No,” Kate said seriously. “We’re not.”
“Because of Steve?”
“I don’t think he matters.”
Patrick ate a bite of chicken. “Why not?”
“He doesn’t…” She looked away across the park. “Apparently, I overestimated my own appeal.”
Patrick gave a snort of derision. “He’s a fool.”
He broke a roll apart, buttered it and handed her half. The simple gesture touched her. She took the roll and bit into the softness. The flavor piqued her appetite. She picked up her fork and joined Patrick in demolishing the heap of food on the two plates. A third dish, filled with three more types of salad and two ears of corn, slid onto the table in front of them.
“Pop sent this over,” Ian said as he joined them at the table. His own plate was filled to monumental proportions.
“Keep eating like that and you’ll get fat,” Patrick said, pointing at the pile of food.
“Hasn’t happened so far.” Ian shrugged, eyeing them closely. “You two finished fighting for the day?”
Kate and Patrick exchanged a quick glance. “We weren’t fighting,” Patrick denied.
“Only because Ma intervened.” He took a bite of baked beans. “You’re the talk of the party.”
Kate flushed and Patrick frowned. “Back off, Ian.”
A short, pretty woman with red hair just like Elaine’s joined them at the table. “Can’t you guys go one minute without snapping at each other?”
“Of course we can,” Ian said. “What’s our personal best, Patty?”
“I don’t know.” Patrick put his fork down to make an exaggerated count on his fingers. “Maybe five, six minutes?”
Kate laughed.
The woman smiled at her. “I’m Jeannie McGuire. Older sister to these two idiots.”
“Kate Stevens.”
“So, what’d Patty do to make you cry?”
“Jeez, Jeannie,” Patrick protested. “Why do you always blame me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Jeannie’s large blue eyes were innocent. “She shows up, you walk over and she’s crying. Be warned,” she confided to Kate. “He’s an awful tease. I recommend you ignore him as much as you can.”
Patrick laughed. “If only you’d follow your own advice.”
Jeannie shot him a glare, then turned back to Kate. “As bad as he is now, he was worse when we were kids.”
“Remember on that J-boat Pop had, when you thought he’d drowned?” Ian asked.
“Oh! That was awful!” Jeannie put a hand to her chest. Her eyes were round with remembered horror. “When we were kids,” she said to Kate. “We were out sailing on this little boat and Patrick pretended to get hit with the boom. He goes overboard and disappears. I completely freaked out. Ian’s looking over the side and I’m screaming at him.”
“I saw Patty catch the boom when we turned and dive off the boat,” Ian added. “He popped up right away, but Jeannie missed it. She’s screaming like a banshee and Patty gives me the signal to keep my mouth shut.”
“I kept looking over the side of the boat on one side, and Patrick would swim to the other,” Jeannie said.
“It was so funny.” Ian took a sip of his beer. “Jeannie was streaming snot and I’m dying, trying not to laugh.”
“It was awful!” Jeannie aimed a smack at Ian’s arm. He ducked and laughed again. “You were terrible.”
“It was funny.” Patrick joined them in enjoying the memory. “She wouldn’t speak to us for days.”
“I got you back, though, didn’t I?” Jeannie said, her eyes narrowed. “With the shaving cream.”
Patrick chuckled. “You did at that.”
“Mom!” A boy of about seven ran over and tugged at Jeannie’s sleeve. “Dougie pushed me down.”
“What did you do to Dougie first?” Jeannie asked.
“Nothing!”
“Hmm, really?”
The boy squirmed but defended his innocence. “Really! I didn’t do nothing.”
“Anything.”
“Exactly,” the boy agreed. “We were just playing soccer and Dougie kept hogging the ball—”
“Meaning he was winning, so you decided to even the odds,” Patrick interrupted.
Jeannie held up a hand to stop the protest that was tumbling out of her son’s mouth. “Go back and apologize to Dougie for trying to cheat.”
“Mo-om!”
“Now, Charles Alan. Or you can sit here with us adults until you learn to play the game by the rules.”
Jeannie eyed her son sternly and he huffed a sigh of defeat. With a soft smile she pulled him to her and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I know it’s a drag being youngest, but cheating isn’t going to help anything.”
With another dramatic sigh, the boy turned and ponderously walked away toward the other kids playing soccer. Jeannie shook her head and turned back to the table.
“Just wait. In a few years you, too, will have this kind of fun.”
Obviously, their “secret” was no such thing here. Kate shifted uncomfortably, and felt like a fraud. The Berzanis were all so welcoming to her. Even Patrick seemed certain of the future. And there was something different about him, surrounded by his family. Kate hated to think that Evan might be right; seeing him with them did make a difference. Or was she imagining it? Maybe she just felt envious that he had the family she had always wanted.
“Maybe we’ll have a girl,” Patrick said to his s
ister. “She’ll be just like Kate.”
“I hope you have ten boys all exactly like you,” Jeannie said. “Sorry, Kate. I wouldn’t wish that on you, but on Patrick?” She paused, then shot her brother an evil grin. “Oh yeah.”
“Because he was so awful to you as a child?” Kate asked.
“To me and everyone else!”
“Come on! I wasn’t that bad,” Patrick protested.
Ian chuckled. “Yeah, you were. I think Mom started to get gray hairs the minute you were born.”
Kate looked over at Patrick. “Just what did you do, besides tormenting your sister?”
“Nothing. I was a good little Boy Scout.”
“Hardly,” Jeannie said. “If you can think of any trouble a kid could get into, Patrick got into it. I thank my lucky stars my two boys don’t have half the imagination and foolhardiness that Patty had as a kid.”
“He was the worst daredevil,” Ian told Kate. “He built a hang glider out of two-by-twos and an old spinnaker and launched himself off the roof of the metal shop at the yard. The thing went down like a stone,” he added with a laugh. “Patty’s lying there, broken pieces of wood sticking up all around him and Ma thinks he’s dead.”
Kate looked at Patrick, eyes wide. “Were you hurt?”
“A few scratches. Nothing broken.”
“That time,” Jeannie interjected, then went on to relate another incident where Patrick had not been so lucky.
Kate laughed as Patrick’s siblings related the childhood exploits of the man sitting next to her. Slowly, as daring deed piled on top of daring deed, her amusement died. She began to see a pattern that alarmed her and sent her spirits plummeting. He had always sought excitement and adventure. From the day he started walking, trouble had been his destination.
She stole a glance at Patrick as he laughingly refuted one of Jeannie’s claims. He was secretly proud of his feats. She could see it in his face, hear it in his voice. She realized that skippering racing yachts on the ocean wasn’t just a passing fancy. Though he might stop for her sake, he would always gravitate toward adventure—and danger. It was bred in his bones. If not sailing, he would find something else.
Kate looked down at the remains of the meal in front of them, then at the people seated around the table. Laughter abounded. Jeannie’s husband, Charlie, had joined them, sitting close to his wife and stroking a hand over her back. Evan sat at one end of the table tossing a ball for a large black Lab. He had added some of the more hair-raising details to the stories. Children raced back and forth from the grass to the table with either complaints or triumphs. It was the picture of a happy, loving family.
Evan was partly right; by themselves, Patrick’s family had the power to change her mind. But Kate couldn’t dismiss the stories she had heard. Patrick might change his travel schedule to be with her and the baby, but he could never change who he was. She didn’t want a daredevil or a vagabond for a husband, no matter how terrific the family that produced him.
Kate rose to her feet and smiled at everyone. “This has been lovely, but I’m afraid I have to leave.”
Patrick took her hand. “Not yet, Katie.”
“We’re all going for a swim,” Evan said, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Don’t you want to stay for that?”
Kate glared at him. “Too bad I didn’t bring my suit.”
“It was great meeting you,” Jeannie said. “I’ll call Patty and we’ll plan dinner together some night.”
Kate smiled but didn’t answer. She began stacking the plates as everyone rose. Ian brought a trash can over and the table was cleared in moments. He dropped a kiss on her cheek.
“See you soon, Kate.”
“Bye, Ian.”
As she moved across the grass, Patrick fell into step beside her. “Thanks for coming, Katie.”
“You have a very nice family.”
He smiled. “Nice, loud and sometimes obnoxious,” he said with a laugh. “I hope they didn’t overwhelm you.”
“No.” Kate paused. “They’re really different from mine, though.”
“What’s your family like?” Patrick’s eyes were alight with curiosity. “You don’t talk much about them.”
She shrugged. “Small and quiet.”
“No wonder you’re ready to leave.”
Kate remained silent. When they reached her car, she opened the door and was hit in the face with a blast of trapped heat.
“Give it a minute to cool.” Patrick pulled her away from the vehicle into the shade of a nearby tree.
He ran his hands over her arms, sending a shiver across her skin. This close, the aroma that was Patrick Berzani tantalized her. She wanted to bury her nose in his neck and nibble a path upward to his ear, tasting and tempting him in equal measure. Patrick seemed to sense her desire and his eyes turned dark in answer.
“Can I come over tonight?”
Kate swallowed hard, tempted to say yes. It would be so easy. Just say yes and she would have Patrick, and if not him, at least his family. She had to admit the combination was very potent. If she could not create her own family, she might choose the Berzani clan. But what would that mean for her child? At the best, she would grow up longing for a father she seldom saw. At worst, Patrick would die in one of his daredevil feats and the baby would never know her father at all.
Slowly, she shook her head no.
“Why not?”
“Did you listen to the stories your family told about you?”
Patrick frowned. “Of course I did. I’ve heard them a hundred times. What are you—”
“In every one, you’re the kid who always pushes the envelope. You are the kid in jeopardy. You encourage others to follow along, get them to do things they wouldn’t dream of trying on their own.”
“Maybe that’s true. So?” He was still frowning.
Kate sighed and ran a hand over her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “You’re an adventurer, Patrick, in the true sense of the word.”
“I don’t see what this has to do with me coming over tonight,” he said impatiently.
“I know.” Kate stared at him for a long, silent moment. “You’re never going to change, Patrick. After today, I don’t think you can. You’re always going to push limits and try new things. Giving up sailing for me and the baby won’t make you any different.”
“Kate, those were stories about a young boy.” Patrick put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing slightly. “Every kid gets into trouble, tests the boundaries. Well, maybe I did push them further than most,” he added with a coaxing smile.
“And you still do,” she said.
Patrick shook his head, his face serious. “Not like that. The ocean’s no place to be cocky.”
“Then why can’t you quit? Stay home. Work in your family’s marina?”
“I suppose because sailing is part of who I am,” he said quietly.
“And you love it. I’ve seen the look on your face when you talk about racing. Your eyes light up like someone plugged you into an electrical socket.”
“I do love racing, but I can cut back on it, so I’m here more than I’m gone.”
Kate took a step away and hugged her arms around herself. She felt cold, despite the heat of the afternoon. “I don’t think you should,” she said.
Patrick was plainly astounded. “What?” he asked, shaking his head.
“It would be wrong for you to give up what you love. It’s also wrong for me to ask you. It would just be a matter of time before you hated me for tying you down.”
Patrick was silent, watching her, his face still. He made no attempt to touch her again, but shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. A car passed by and pulled into a slot farther along. The people got out and walked off with only a brief glance at Kate and Patrick.
“Why does this sound like goodbye?” he asked. His voice was quiet and deep, hard to hear over the shouts of the children in the park.
“Maybe because it is?” Kate’s voice was a w
hisper, too. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she knew her words sliced like a jagged knife. “I can’t live with a man like that. I can’t have him be the father of a child that I love. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Kate looked away, toward the pavilion. Fewer people were left now. Most had gone down to the beach to swim.
“How can you throw everything we have away so easily?”
“This is not easy, Patrick!” Tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them back. “But we can’t ignore the truth about who we are. Too much is at stake. I’m sorry,” she said again. “I truly am.”
Kate turned and walked quickly to her car. Patrick didn’t try to stop her. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she took one last look in the rearview mirror. Patrick was standing where she had left him, hands in his pockets. He looked so lonely and sad.
A tear trickled down her cheek as she resolutely turned her attention to the road in front of her. She wiped the sadness away. She wouldn’t cry. From now on, she would look to the future. She must. Her baby depended on it. But the tears still persisted, a soft rain of sorrow that wouldn’t stop. Would she ever be over Patrick Berzani? Her heart whispered no, but Kate refused to listen.
Chapter Six
Patrick stood at the helm of the sailboat, feeling the rhythm of the waves through the wheel. He reached over and gave the winch another couple of turns, trimming the jib taut. Blue Magic picked up speed immediately, flying over the water. With one foot braced on the seat, he looked up at the mast, checking the rake. The backstay needed a bit more tension. A few pumps on the hydraulic adjuster took care of it and improved the shape of the sails, too.
Setting the autopilot, Patrick made a trip up the leeward deck, checking the tension of the shrouds. They all seemed to be loose enough without being too slack. He stopped at the mast and sighted up along its length. The rake was right, now. He looked at the foresail. The laminated fabric gleamed golden in the sunlight as it absorbed the power of the wind.
Back in the cockpit, Patrick took the wheel again. Wind and water were in concert, pushing the boat forward. Out here, he felt completely alive, his senses alert and his body in tune with the boat. Knowing what to do when the wind veered or backed was instinctual, as much a part of him as breathing. Kate was right; he had been born and bred to sail. How could he ever give it up, even for her?