by Marie Force
“I guess you do. Catch me up. Last I knew, you were flying high with an Oscar in one hand and the girl you loved holding the other. What happened?”
“Wish I knew.”
“If you don’t know, who does?”
“I fucked up, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m a total and complete fuck-up.” Grant grabbed his bottle, finished off the beer and signaled for Chelsea to bring him another one.
She looked to his father, who shook his head.
“Goddamn it, Dad! You can’t do that. I’m not a child!”
“Then quit acting like one.”
Grant couldn’t remember his father ever using that particular tone with him. With Mac, Adam and Evan, yes, but never with him. All at once, he was stone-cold sober, and the pain resurfaced with a relentless disregard for his desire to forget all about what he’d seen earlier—his woman with her new man. His eyes burned, and Grant knew he had to get out of there, or he was going to lose it in front of the most important person in his life.
He tossed some bills on the bar and walked out. The cool air blowing in off the ocean helped to further sober him up. Clearly, he hadn’t had anywhere near enough to drink if he was still focused on Abby’s indifference toward him earlier. After all they’d been to each other for most of their lives, how could she look at him the same way she would a stranger off the street?
A hand on his arm stopped him from staggering down the stairs from the Beachcomber’s back porch.
Grant spun around, prepared to do battle, but all the fight went out of him when he saw his father towering over him. “Let me go,” he said, attempting to wrench his arm free of his father’s grasp.
“What’s going on, son? This isn’t like you.”
“It’s more like me than you think.” He’d been drinking way too much lately, and he knew it. But he had to so something, anything, to numb the pain.
“Come on, pal. Let’s go home and get some sleep. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”
Because he couldn’t think of a better plan, Grant allowed his father to propel him to the truck, which was parked on the street.
“I forgot to get the keys to the bike from Chelsea,” Grant muttered as they went past Mac’s motorcycle in the parking lot.
“I got ’em.” Big Mac held the truck’s passenger door for Grant and then walked around the front to the driver’s side.
Grant tipped his head back, hoping he could make it home without puking. That would be the perfect end to a perfect day. When his father reached across him to buckle his seat belt, Grant felt like a total moron. “Sorry.”
“Ain’t no big thing.”
The sound of laughter outside the truck caught their attention.
Big Mac gasped. “What the. . .”
Grant and his father stared at the duo walking past—Ned, arm in arm with a woman, totally oblivious to anyone watching them as they were deep in conversation peppered with frequent laughter. Grant had never seen his father’s best friend looking so animated.
“Is that Maddie’s mother?” Grant whispered, as if they might hear him.
“Sure is. Well, I’ll be damned.”
After Ned and Francine were past the truck, Grant glanced over at his father, who looked like he’d been struck by lightning.
“What’s going on with them?” Grant asked.
“I have no earthly idea.” Big Mac snapped out of his stupor to start the truck. “But let me tell you, if he’s somehow managed to work things out with her, there’s certainly hope for you, boyo.”
The comment struck Grant’s funny bone, and before long, his father joined in. A good laugh with his dad was exactly what Grant needed.
Ned had never been happier than he was during the evening with Francine. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The last time he’d been this happy was the last time he’d been with her. She just did it for him, and she always had. It was that simple.
He’d taken her for a fancy dinner at Domenic’s and let her fuss over the prices as he plied her with seafood and wine. Afterward, they came back to town and took a walk along the waterfront. They’d talked about everything—except the one thing Ned most wanted to know. How had Bobby Chester managed to make her forget all about him during the course of one weekend?
He couldn’t exactly blurt out the question over clams and white wine. And after such a wonderful evening, he was terrified of scaring her off by reopening an old wound.
They approached the driveway that led to Francine’s place, and Ned slowed his steps to prolong their time together. All too soon, they reached the foot of the stairs that led to her place.
“Would you like to come up for a cup of coffee?” she asked
“Sure.” Relieved their evening wasn’t over quite yet, Ned followed her up the stairs into the small apartment.
“Maddie lived here a few years,” Francine said as she measured the grounds and poured water into the coffeemaker. “She was living here when she met Mac.”
“I remember,” Ned said, amused to realize she was nervous and chattering to fill the empty spaces.
As the coffee began to brew, Francine turned and leaned against the counter. “You haven’t asked me about Bobby.”
Ned suppressed a gasp at the sudden introduction of the one topic they’d avoided during their hours together. “I don’t figure it’s any of my beeswax.”
“Of course it is.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, if I hadn’t met him, perhaps I would’ve been married to you these last thirty or so years.”
Uncertain of what to do about his sweaty palms, Ned jammed his hands into his pockets. “Ya reckon so?”
Francine tipped her head to study him. “You were going to ask me, weren’t you?”
“Mighta thought about it. Once or twice.”
Her smile was sad and didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t regret marrying him. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have my girls. Even though we had it kind of rough after he left, somehow we made it through, and they’re good girls.”
“I don’t know Tiffany, but Maddie’s a lovely gal. She’s made my friend’s boy very happy, which makes me happy.”
Her lips flattened with displeasure. “You’re in awfully tight with those McCarthys.”
“Big Mac is my best friend. Has been since long before I first laid eyes on ya. His kids are my kids.”
“His wife had me thrown in jail.”
Ned kept his tone gentle when he said, “Now, Francine, we both know better than that, don’t we?” He knew full well that Linda had reported Francine only after she passed a fifth bad check in the bar at McCarthy’s Gansett Inn, and that Linda had agonized over the decision. But he kept that information to himself, knowing it wouldn’t matter much to Francine after spending three months in jail.
She turned away to reach for coffee mugs. “I should’ve known you’d side with her.”
“I ain’t on no one’s side. Shit happens. The past belongs in the past.”
Facing him again, she said, “If that’s the case, why’d you come here today?”
Cornered, Ned had no idea how to answer that. “Well, I, uh…”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Drawing in a deep breath, he closed the distance between them and was gratified when her eyes widened in surprise. “Does matter.” He reached out to touch the soft hair she still dyed red. “I came here today because I never stopped thinking aboutcha or that summer we spent together.”
“Oh. Really?” That last word came out more like a croak.
“Really.”
“Even after I married Bobby?”
“’Specially then. Never could understand what ya saw in that smooth-talking charmer.”
“No, you wouldn’t. He was the opposite of you in every possible way.”
“I know I wasn’t as handsome or smooth or full of sweet talk the way he was.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Ned didn’t want to be offended, even after all
this time, but there it was.
She rested her hand on his chest, and he wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating. “You were loyal and faithful and kind. I learned the hard way that those qualities are far more important than handsome or smooth or sweet-talking.”
“Why didn’t ya come to me? After he left, why didn’t ya come?”
“Aw, Ned. I couldn’t have done that to you. I walked away—left you without so much as a howdy do. I can’t believe you expected me to show up at your doorstep with two little girls in tow after what I did to you.”
“I woulda taken ya all. I woulda given you and yer girls everything.”
Her eyes sparkled with tears. “Don’t say that. You don’t mean that.”
With his hand on her chin, he compelled her to look at him. “I mean that.” Before he could talk himself out of it, he brushed a soft kiss over her lips and drew her into a hug. “I mean it.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?” she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.
“Foolish pride,” he said with a rough chuckle. “Stupid, stupid pride. For all the good it did me.”
“I had my pride, too. I was convinced he’d come back. I probably would’ve sent you away.”
“And now?” He drew back so he could look down at her upturned face. “Are ya still waiting for him to come back?”
She shook her head. “Not anymore, but Tiffany has been trying to find him for a while now.”
The statement sent a shaft of shock and fear through Ned. “Is that so?” he managed to ask.
“She has no memory of him. I suppose it’s natural she’d be curious.”
“Does Maddie know she’s looking for him?”
Francine shook her head. “Maddie remembers him. She remembers him leaving. The poor thing sat in the window watching the ferry landing for weeks, hoping he’d come back. I don’t think she’d be happy to hear her sister is looking for him.”
“Do ya hope she finds him?”
“I want Tiffany to get the closure she needs. Beyond that, I don’t hope for much of anything anymore.”
“It don’t have to be that way, Francine. Ya got lots of years left to live yet. No reason they can’t be happy years.”
“Is that so?”
He nodded and had to fight back the urge to kiss her a second time.
“Will you come and see me again, Ned?”
“I’ll come see ya.”
She released a long sigh of what sounded like relief. “Good.”
Chapter 17
Luke went back to work after two unscheduled days off expecting some major ribbing from the guys at the marina. He had no doubt they all knew what he’d been doing and who he’d been doing it with. Thinking about the time with Syd made him feel giddy and goofy and hopeful. So very hopeful.
They’d spent the entire afternoon and evening in bed and had even eaten dinner in bed. He was stiff and sore and achy from what he’d demanded of his body, and he could only imagine how she would feel when she finally stirred. She’d been out cold when he left for work.
It had become clear to him during the most intense sexual marathon of his life that he’d never get enough of her. No matter how many times he had her, he only wanted her more afterward, and he suspected the same was true for her. After the most amazing night of his life, Luke felt like they’d finally reached a point where he could relax a bit. Even though they’d yet to say the words, he was certain she loved him as much as he loved her. What she planned to do about him—and them—was still up in the air, but he was growing more confident that her future would include him.
Arriving at the marina, he steeled himself for a thorough grilling from Big Mac and the guys but was surprised to find everyone’s attention focused on Ned. Even though he was relieved to escape their scrutiny, he couldn’t imagine what Ned, of all people, had done to deserve the third degree.
“I saw you with her,” Big Mac was saying as Luke joined them at the picnic table outside the restaurant where they had coffee and sugar donuts every morning.
“I don’t know what ya think ya saw, but it might be time for new glasses,” Ned fired back.
Mac snorted at the banter between his father and Ned, rolling his eyes at Luke. “Apparently, someone at this table had a hot date last night, but he’s not talking,” Mac said.
Luke’s mouth fell open in shock. Ned? Had a date?
Ned shrugged. “Wadn’t me.”
“I gotta get Grant down here,” Big Mac said, exasperated. “He saw you, too.”
“Two a ya seein’ things.” Ned shifted his eyes to Luke. “Let’s talk about lover boy over there. Ya want a story, there it ’tis.”
“I’d much rather talk about you,” Luke said, and the other guys cracked up. He was still trying to absorb the fact that Ned had been out on a date. He’d never known of Ned to be with any woman. Ever.
“I’m sure ya would,” Ned said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Stephanie, the waifish young woman who was spending her first summer on the island running the marina restaurant, came out bearing a platter of sugar donuts. “Fresh made,” she said as she put them down on the table.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Big Mac said, winking at her.
Stephanie’s cheeks turned bright red, and she scurried back inside.
“That poor little girl has a crush a mile wide on ya,” Ned said to Big Mac. “Speakin’ of getting eyes checked, she needs to see an eye doctor stat. Does she know ya’re older than dirt?”
“We’re not talking about me,” Big Mac said. “You oughta tell Mac who you were out gallivanting with last night. I’m sure he’d be very interested.”
“Who was it?” Mac asked. “And why would I care?”
“Why doncha just shut ya big yap?” Ned snapped at his friend. “Even on this godforsaken island, a man has a right to privacy.”
Big Mac roared with laughter, which made Luke smile. It was impossible to be around Big Mac when he was amused and not be sucked in.
“Whatever you say,” Big Mac said, wiping tears from his eyes.
Ned scowled at him.
“Now, boys,” Mac said. “Let’s all get along.”
“You shut yer yap, too,” Ned said, which set Big Mac off all over again.
“What the hell did I do?” Mac asked Luke.
He shrugged. Clearly, Ned was in a mood, and in some ways Luke could sympathize, since he didn’t want his business aired out over coffee and donuts any more than Ned did. Still, Luke couldn’t deny he was dying to know who Ned had been romancing. He hoped Big Mac would tell them later when Ned left in his cab to meet the next ferry.
“Hey,” Mac said, “check out this dickhead.”
The others looked to the pond, where a large powerboat was steaming through the anchorage, making the boats in its wake bob and dip precariously.
Big Mac’s brows furrowed with displeasure. “Where’s the Coast Guard when you need ’em?”
“Oh great,” Mac said. “He’s coming here.”
Big Mac stood. “Allow me, boys.”
“This oughta be good,” Ned said as he got up to get a better view of the show.
Mac and Luke followed Big Mac down the main pier, hanging back to allow him to take the lead.
“Whatcha need, Skip?” Big Mac called to the boat’s captain.
“Looking for dockage for a night or two.” He slurred his words, which the women on the boat found hilarious.
“Drunk at nine a.m.,” Mac muttered to Luke as they leaned against pilings to watch.
“You’re lucky the Coasties didn’t see you pouring on the coal in the harbor,” Big Mac said, keeping it friendly even though he was pissed. Drinking and driving was a problem on the water, too.
The guy’s insolent grin infuriated Luke, who was painfully aware of how much a drunk driver had taken from Sydney. Judging by the stiff set to Big Mac’s shoulders, he was none too pleased either. He pointed the forty-foot boat to a dock close to the end of t
he main pier, away from where he usually put families.
Good call, Luke thought. He’d have done the same, but then he’d learned from the best—party boats at one end, families at the other.
Big Mac loved to say that half these guys probably bought their boats yesterday, and since there was no operating license required, they could take to the water the next day with a hugely powerful machine and no clue how to operate it. This captain was the worst of the worst—all about showing off how much power his boat had.
Luke noticed that the action on the dock had come to a stop, and everyone was watching. Since it was low tide, the boat was far below the standing pier, which made for a more difficult landing. One of the women managed to get a stern line to Big Mac, who wrapped it around a piling while Luke ran up to catch the bow line. It fell short and dropped into the water. The skipper reacted by pouring on the coal. Unprepared for the boat to lurch forward, Big Mac tried to keep a grip on his line.
Luke watched in horror as Big Mac suddenly disappeared off the dock.
Mac let out a scream that chilled Luke to his bones as he watched his friend jump in after his father.
“Someone call 911!” Ned shouted.
“We’ve got guys in the water!” Luke yelled, but the captain was so caught up in showing off for the women, he didn’t hear Luke.
He again threw the boat into gear, engaging the propellers.
“Shut it down!” Mac yelled from the water.
Without a thought to possible implications, Luke threw himself onto the boat ten feet below, landing with a great thud on the back deck, which finally got the captain’s attention.
“Kill the power, now!” Luke lay on the boat’s deck, his left ankle at an unnatural angle. “We’ve got two guys in the water!”
The captain looked down at him sprawled on the deck and finally seemed to get the message. He killed the power, and all Luke could hear in the ensuing silence was Mac screaming for help for his father. Thank God at least one of them was okay.
The boat went silent just as Mac reached his father, who was facedown with a dark slick of blood surrounding him. The back of his head was wide open. With shaking hands, Mac turned him over. “Dad. Wake up.” He slapped his cheeks. No response. Mac plugged his father’s nose and began rescue breathing, all while treading water to keep them both afloat in water that was cold year round. “Where the hell are the paramedics?” he called to the onlookers above.