by Marta Perry
She’d come to know him so well in such a short time—had gone from disliking him to grudging admiration to caring to love. And now it was over.
The angry glance he directed at her didn’t bother her, because she could see something else lurking in the depths of his brown eyes. Something that might almost be pity.
Her heart lurched. Why would Ross be looking at her as if he felt sorry for her?
“Amanda.”
The curt voice had her spinning to face her father. He looked—frozen. Bleak. And suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
“Daddy, what is it?” Who is it? That was the question. Who is hurt, or worse, to make you look that way?
“I need you to go out to the beach house to stay with your grandmother.”
She nodded, trying to find the words to ask.
“A fishing boat swamped.” He jerked his head toward the gray ocean, seeming to force the words out. “Win went after a survivor. He’s missing.” He held up his hand to still her questions. “I don’t know anything else. I’m headed for the post. I’ll call you at the beach house as soon as I have anything.”
Anything. Like whether her laughing, loving, daredevil of a cousin was alive or dead.
Daddy drew her close for a quick, hard hug. She resisted the urge to cling to him. He didn’t need that now.
“I’ll take care of Miz Callie. It’s okay. I’ll call the others. Just go.” Her voice choked, in spite of her effort to keep it level. “I love you, Daddy.”
Chapter Fourteen
Amanda wasn’t fit to drive after a shock like that. At least, that’s what Ross told himself as he took the wheel of her car. He pulled onto Palm Boulevard and turned toward Sullivan’s Island. He wasn’t all that familiar with the barrier islands, but finding his way around them wasn’t hard, since each had only one main street running its length.
He sent a sideways glance toward Amanda. For the first few minutes of the drive she’d huddled in the passenger seat, gaze turned inward, hands clasped in her lap. He realized she was praying.
Then she straightened, pulling the cell phone from her bag, and began calling. The first few calls ended in left messages, it seemed. Call me, right away.
Finally she reached someone. Her brother Hugh, it sounded like. After a few emotional exchanges she disconnected and turned to him.
“Hugh knows a little more than what Daddy told me. Not much.” She was making an effort to keep her voice steady, he could tell, and his heart twisted.
“What did he say?”
“A fishing boat capsized about thirty miles out. Not a commercial one—a twenty-two-foot private boat, from what he’d been able to find out.” She pressed her lips together for an instant. “They shouldn’t have been out that far, not in six-to-eight-foot seas. Most likely a wave swamped them, and they were in the water before they even knew what happened.”
“How many people were onboard?” He couldn’t keep his mind from working like a reporter’s, even in these circumstances.
“He didn’t know. Two or three, from what he’d heard.” Her hands clasped together in her lap, straining until her knuckles were white.
“Win was in the chopper that went out.” That much was obvious, so he’d save her from saying it again.
She nodded. “They radioed back that they’d spotted the overturned boat with two survivors clinging to it. One of them didn’t have a life jacket. Win insisted on jumping. Hugh said the account got sketchy after that. He didn’t know what happened with the chopper, or how Win went missing, or…” Her voice broke.
He covered her hand with his. “Hold on. They should know more soon.” He had no idea if that was true, but his heart ached for her and it was the only comforting thing he could think of to say.
“Hugh’s on his way to the base. He’ll call back as soon as he gets on duty.”
“I thought Hugh was a cop.” Wasn’t that what she’d said when she talked about her brother?
“Coast Guard. Maritime law enforcement,” she said briefly.
Of course. He would be. And what would Hugh think if his uncle was exposed as a crook?
They crossed the bridge between the islands at Breech Inlet, and he glanced out at the gray, angry-looking ocean under an equally gray sky. How long could someone survive in that? Win was in good shape, but even so…
“I’m surprised they let Win jump when it’s this bad out.”
She looked surprised. “That’s what he does. ‘I’m a Coast Guard rescue swimmer. I’m here to help you.’ That’s what they say when they go after someone. The other boys tease him about that.” Her voice trembled a bit on the words. She took an audible breath. “But that says it all, really. I know Win can come across as flippant and brash, but underneath, he’s solid. Semper Paratus. Always Ready.”
“I don’t doubt that.” It was steadying her to talk, it seemed. A good thing, given what she’d have to deal with this day.
She nodded, picking up the phone again. “I’d better try to make a few more calls. Daddy will call Win’s folks, but everyone else has to be told.” She paused. “Thanks. For driving me. For listening.”
“Anytime.”
Anytime, he thought as she started calling again. There wouldn’t be any other times, probably, to talk or listen or anything else.
The camera weighted his pocket. It was like carrying a loaded grenade. Once those photos hit the paper, the lives of all the Bodines would change immeasurably. And Amanda would never speak to him again.
He couldn’t change who he was. He couldn’t change the truth.
She was talking to her twin. He recognized the note in her voice that only seemed to be there when she spoke with Annabel.
“Love you,” she said, clicking off just as he pulled up at the beach house.
She was out of the car in an instant, and then she stopped, clinging to the car door. He hurried around to her and took her arm.
“Okay?”
Her eyes were dark with hurt. “No one else has gotten here yet. They wouldn’t tell Miz Callie on the phone. I’ll have to tell her.”
“You can do it.” His fingers tightened on her arm. “She’s a strong woman. She can deal with it.”
“You’re right.” Her eyes focused on his face. “I appreciate—” She stopped, as if suddenly realizing something. “I forgot that you drove my car. You can take it back, if you want. Or I’ll call a cab for you—”
“Forget it. I’ll stick around, as long as I can be useful.”
Her expression went guarded. “Not to write about.”
“No. Just to help.”
He’d do this, and it was the last thing she’d ever let him do for her.
He followed her up the steps to the beach house, trying to find a little extra armor for what was to come. He couldn’t pretend he was very good at dealing with other people’s emotions.
Maybe that was why he’d never be able to write the sort of story that Amanda had done about C.J. and her grandmother. He just didn’t have that sort of caring in him, apparently.
Amanda opened the unlocked front door, calling out as she did so. “Miz Callie?”
A quick, light step sounded, and Amanda’s grandmother emerged from the kitchen, shedding a straw hat and sunglasses as she did so.
“Amanda. Ross. What a nice surprise. I just came in from—” She broke off, looking from one face to the other, and her smile vanished. There was silence for the space of a heartbeat.
“Who?” she asked.
“It’s Win, Miz Callie.”
Amanda went to put her arm around her grandmother. He moved to her other side, ready to grab her if she started to sag. But Miz Callie, it seemed, was made of sterner stuff than that. She leaned against Amanda for just a second, and then she straightened.
“How bad?”
“He’s missing. We don’t know much more.” Amanda guided her grandmother to the sofa and sat beside her, holding her hands. “He went in after a victim…”
The phone rang.
Amanda signaled to him to answer it. She continued talking to Miz Callie, her voice steady.
Amanda was a strong woman in a family filled with them. Too bad he’d let himself be blind to that for so long.
He took the cordless phone into the kitchen to answer it. “Bodine residence.”
“Hugh Bodine here. Who is this?” A male voice barked.
“Ross Lockhart. I drove Amanda over.”
“Good. She shouldn’t be alone.” Hugh, at least, didn’t seem to share the family suspicion of him.
“She’s talking to your grandmother now. Do you want me to get her?”
“Don’t bother. I’ll tell you what I’ve found out, and you can relay it to them.” If anything, Hugh sounded relieved to have someone who wasn’t emotionally involved take over that chore.
“Amanda’s told me what she already knows, so just go from there.” And don’t expect me to break the worst news, because I won’t.
“The weather was bad, but I guess you can see that for yourself. Two survivors. The pilot radioed the coordinates, said he was having trouble keeping the helo steady in the wind. Win jumped, we know that.”
“What happened to the chopper?”
“Nearly went down, but the pilot managed to pull it out. They limped back to base.” Frustration edged Hugh’s voice. “Choppers are grounded. You’ll have to tell them that, of course, but be sure they know every available craft is out looking.”
“I will.” Even from a layman’s viewpoint, he knew that had to be bad news.
“Give me your cell number,” Hugh said abruptly. “That way, I can be sure to get you if…”
He let that trail off, but Ross could fill in the blanks. If he had to relay something bad, Hugh wanted it told in person, not over the phone. Ross reeled off the number, hung up and walked back into the living room, carrying the phone.
Amanda and her grandmother stared at him, their expressions nearly identical. Hope. Fear. Need.
“That was Hugh.” Sitting down across from them, he repeated the substance of Hugh’s message. “He said to tell you that every available craft is out there. He’ll call back the instant he has anything more.”
They were silent for a moment. Then Miz Callie held out her hand to him. “Let’s pray.”
He couldn’t refuse, any more than he could have refused his own grandmother, and he hoped his reluctance didn’t show on his face. If God was there, Ross couldn’t imagine He’d want to hear from him.
Amanda took his other hand, her grip firm, and his pulse accelerated.
“Dear Father,” Miz Callie began, sounding as if she talked to a close friend. Her voice was calm and confident as she prayed, asking for God’s protection for all those in peril, especially Win and the two people he was trying to save.
The sense that he was a fraud slipped away from Ross as she prayed. He might not have been able to pray himself, but as he listened, he found his heart gradually creaking open to the possibility that not only was God there, but He cared what happened to Win, to the victims, to those who waited and those who struggled to find them.
“Amen,” she said softly, and the word felt like a benediction.
Ross opened his eyes, shaking his head a little as if it needed clearing. What had just happened? He didn’t want to start wondering, start questioning. He wasn’t looking for God.
Feet pounded on the outside stairway, and the door flew open. Annabel rushed in, followed by Georgia and a couple of other people he didn’t know but vaguely recognized from the birthday party. The Bodines were arriving in force. He backed away, giving them access to Miz Callie, divorcing himself from the family group.
He should leave. Amanda had her people here now, and she didn’t need him.
But he’d given Hugh his cell number, so he couldn’t very well go off without letting him know. More steps sounded on the stairs. A retreat was in order, if he didn’t want to be inundated by Bodines.
He’d head into the kitchen and start some coffee. That was what people did while they waited for news, wasn’t it? He’d make coffee and hope Hugh called soon.
He’d found the coffee and filters and started a pot when his cell phone rang. He jerked it out of his pocket. “Lockhart.”
“Hugh Bodine here.” It was a growl. “There’s not much new, but I told my father I’d check in. How’s Miz Callie doing?”
“Praying,” he said. “She’s handling it. Some other family came in.”
Hugh grunted. “I can hear them in the background. That’ll help, I guess. Just try to keep them focused on the positive. Adam’s out there. He’s not gonna come home without his cousin.”
“I’ll try.” He hesitated, knowing he was involving himself still further, but feeling unable to stop. “Just between us, what are the chances?”
“Wish I knew. Win took a second life vest with him when he jumped. If he didn’t lose it on the way down and managed to get it onto the victim, they can hang on for a time, warm as the water is.”
“What if he lost it?”
“If he lost it, Win will give his vest to the victim.” Hugh’s flat tone suppressed a world of emotion.
“I see.” He did. If Win was out there without a vest, trying to help two victims, with night falling…
“I’ve got to go,” Hugh said quickly. “Hang in there. I’ll get back to you when I can.”
The call ended, and he hadn’t told Hugh he was leaving.
Amanda came in, lifting her eyebrows when she saw the phone in his hand. “Was that Hugh?”
“Nothing new,” he said quickly. “He just wanted to touch base.”
If she thought he was hiding something, she didn’t betray that. “Coffee. Good, thank you. I’ll take some to Miz Callie.” She stopped, hand on the cabinet door, and looked at him with such sweetness that it jolted him right in the heart. “Thank you for staying. It means a lot.”
“No problem,” he said, realizing the question had been decided for him. He was staying.
The beach house was beginning to crowd with people, reminding Amanda of a pot coming to a boil. Every Bodine was here except for Uncle Harrison and Aunt Miranda, Win’s parents, who’d gone to the base along with anyone who had the credentials to get on base.
She was beginning to feel useless. To say nothing of the stress that bubbled along her nerves, threatening to explode.
Her gaze met Ross’s. As if they’d communicated without words, he started making his way toward her.
Her heart gave an odd little twist. In spite of the unanswered questions that lay between them, he’d been a rock in this crisis, and she wasn’t ashamed of clinging to him.
He stopped beside her, his dark brows lifting in a question.
“I can’t stay here any longer. I’ve got to go down to the base.”
“Can you get in?”
“Press credentials will do it. They might send me packing if I went alone, but they’re not going to turn away the managing editor of the Charleston Bugle.”
He gave a short nod. “Let’s go.”
It took minutes to explain to Miz Callie, and then she and Ross slipped away. Without seeming to think about it, he got into driver’s seat.
Ordinarily that might raise her hackles, but not now. Today she needed to keep her thoughts, and her prayers, focused on Win.
Father, be with them. I know so many people are praying for them now. Please hear our prayers.
She glanced at Ross. She hadn’t missed how uncomfortable he’d seemed at praying with them, and it had touched her heart when he’d taken her grandmother’s hand with such tenderness.
“Thank you. I don’t know how—”
He cut her off with a shake of his head. “Forget it.”
The words were rough to the point of rudeness, but she sensed that they covered pain instead.
As if to fill the silence, Ross snapped the radio on, just in time for a local news bulletin about the rescue. She listened to it, fingers digging into her knees. Nothing that they didn’
t already know.
“They’ll be trying to identify the missing rescue swimmer,” Ross said.
“Yes.” She swallowed, hating the thought of news-people descending on her family while they waited. “Sometimes I don’t like our profession much.”
“Right.”
They didn’t speak again, and in a few minutes they’d reached the base. The procedure moved smoothly until they entered the building that housed the command center, where the press was being gently but firmly shepherded into a briefing room by Petty Officer Kelly Ryan.
Breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving, Amanda caught her friend’s eye and jerked her head toward the stairwell. Kelly gave the most minuscule of shrugs and nodded her head.
Grasping Ross’s wrist, Amanda let the rest of the mob flow past them and led him quickly up the stairs. They reached the upper levels without incident.
“You’d make a good spy,” Ross said.
“It helps to know the territory, but it’s going to get harder now. If my father sees us…” She didn’t need to finish that. Ross knew as well as she did what his reaction would be.
They’d just started down the hallway when an office door opened right in front of them. With no time to do anything else, Amanda met Thomas Morgan’s startled gaze.
“Ms. Bodine.” The young ensign who was her father’s assistant glanced from her to Ross. “What are you doing here? The press is supposed be—”
She silenced him with an urgent hand on his arm. “That’s my cousin out there. I can’t just sit home waiting for news. You can help us, can’t you, Tommy?”
His reluctance was palpable, reminding her that Daddy had said how intent his assistant was on promotion. Tommy wouldn’t want to get into trouble.
“If we’re caught, we won’t say a word about you. Just get us someplace where we can know what’s going on. Please.”
He hesitated a moment longer, but then he shrugged. “Go up the next flight of steps and in the second door on the right. That’s the best you’ll be able to do without your father spotting you.”
“Thanks.” She squeezed his arm. “And we never saw you, right?”