by Louise Clark
Breakfast this morning was streaky bacon, Canadian bacon, and sweet pickled peameal bacon, plus eggs, toast and coffee. Like dinner, the breakfast foods had been supplied by Sledge and Trevor. There wasn’t yogurt or a box of cereal, cold or hot, in sight. There was milk, though, for Noelle, and orange juice for all. Apparently, orange juice was a favorite of Trevor’s. It was a favorite of Noelle’s too, so Christy consumed the eggs and bacon Roy cooked and didn’t complain.
But Tamara did. She suggested that eggs and bacon would clog everyone’s arteries and that lighter fare would be a better start for their mornings. The men all looked at her askance, but no one said anything.
After cleaning up and donning bathing suits, they followed the path down to the beach.
ClanRanald Beach was a wide horseshoe arc, with bluffs on the southern side of the horseshoe and lowlands to the north, where the campground was located. The beach itself was tide-washed hard golden sand that stretched for almost a kilometer until it shelved slowly into deeper water. As the ocean receded from the shore, it left large shallow tidal pools perfect for children to play in.
The tide had been high early that morning. Now it was sliding slowly down the beach, revealing an enticing pool filled with tiny fish and small crabs. Christy pointed to it. “Why don’t we set up here? Noelle, would you like to build a sandcastle?”
Noelle, in a two-piece tankini, covered by a hooded terry pullover robe in a leopard print, had come armed with a bucket and various digging instruments. Her eyes lit as she inspected the tidal pool. “Yeah!”
“Okay, let’s get sunscreen on before you begin,” Christy said, and helped her smooth lotion all over.
Quinn and Sledge conferred briefly, then set about erecting the new beach umbrella, a necessity since the beach was both wide and long and the only shade was well up the shore.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with Patterson being in the campsite behind us.” Ellen watched Trevor open her beach chair and position it beside his. She looked elegant as usual in a kimono-style wrap with wide sleeves and a blue flower pattern that mixed nicely with her teal one-piece suit with draped front.
“It will be fine,” Christy said, laying out her towel and Noelle’s not far from Ellen's chair. She stifled the urge to laugh. The umbrella consisted of a pole that screwed into the tide-washed, hard-packed sand and the umbrella top itself. Quinn and Sledge were arguing over who got to plant the pole, apparently the more important part of the task.
“The whiny kids don’t belong to her,” Roy said. Dressed in the tie-died T-shirt from yesterday, scarlet swim trunks with fire orange sides, a canvas hat with a soft brim, and sunglasses, he was standing beside the small tent and beach towel Noelle had laid out for Stormy and was holding the cat’s leash. He had the look of someone who was used to diverting himself until he needed to snap to attention. “They’re her sister-in-law’s.”
They’d better stay away. The cat doesn’t like them. Stormy was crouched on the towel, front legs folded under him, his eyes on Noelle, who hadn’t even paused to divest herself of her cover-up before she started to build her sandcastle. Tamara, who looked lovely in a dark bikini covered by a semi-opaque beach cover up, had gone over to help her, while the rest of the adults set up their beach station. Christy could have been jealous that Tamara was spending time with her daughter, except she could see Noelle had assumed her Jamieson manners. She was being polite, but not connecting. Tamara might not get it, but Christy did and her heart warmed at her daughter’s loyalty.
Sledge won the umbrella skirmish and screwed the pole into the sand. Quinn dumped the top half onto the pole and latched it securely. Sledge slid the mechanism, opening up the umbrella, then he dusted his hands together. Job well done. Quinn shot him an amused look as a freshening breeze caused the umbrella to shudder. He left Sledge to deal with figuring out how to anchor it more securely.
Christy sat on the towel she had laid out and settled down to lather up on sunscreen while she watched her daughter busily working the wet sand into a substantial structure.
Quinn set his towel beside hers and sat down.
She looked over at him, holding up the bottle of lotion. “Do you need any?” She wondered why he’d chosen to sit with her, instead of setting his towel beside Tamara’s. Not that she wanted him beside Tamara. She didn’t. The problem was she wasn’t sure how deep the commitment was between Quinn and Tamara. Part of her wanted to believe it was fleeting and there was hope he would want to get back together with her. The other part feared his relationship with Tamara was long-term. As she rubbed lotion onto her legs, she tried to tell herself she wasn’t jealous of Tamara, but she was.
He shook his head. “I put some on earlier.” He stared at Tamara and Noelle. “What do you think of Patterson camping nearby?”
He was worried about Tamara, who’d been arrested for the murder of her birth father only a few weeks before. She’d been released when the real killer was found, but she couldn’t have fond memories of the detective who was part of the taskforce that had focused their suspicions on her for most of the investigation.
Christy shrugged. “Patterson’s okay.” She laughed softly. “The look on her face when she realized who her neighbors were.” Christy added more lotion to her palm and began smoothing it down her arm. “I’m not sure the detective is so happy about it.” Patterson’s expression had gone from polite to surprised, then to resigned when Trevor and Sledge wandered over from their campsite on the opposite side of the road to find out what was going on.
Quinn nodded. “Our relationship with Patterson will never be the same after this.”
Christy finished with her arms and moved on to spread lotion over her face, making sure she applied enough to her nose and chin, which always seemed to burn before any other part of her. “You mean, we’ll think about her neurotic sister-in-law and her whiny niece and nephew if Patterson ever tries to arrest one of us again.”
The neurotic sister-in-law had arrived a couple of minutes after Patterson and apologized profusely for her children’s interruption. She’d done it at the same time she’d praised her daughter for finding the stray cat’s home and her son for looking after his sister. As the bickering between the children increased as they sought their mother’s attention, Patterson had herded the whole lot back to her own side of the screen of bushes.
“Something like that,” Quinn said. He paused, then said, “Would you like me to do your back?”
Yes! Christy thought, though she didn’t respond with the enthusiasm she was feeling. “Sure, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“No problem,” he said.
She handed him the bottle and watched as he squeezed lotion into his palm. Part of her shuddered at the thought of his hands smoothing the silky cream onto her back. The other part wanted to purr with pleasure. She shifted so he could have easier access to her back and dipped her head. Moments later, she felt his hands on her back. He’d rubbed the lotion between his palms to warm it and as he smoothed it over her skin she wanted to sigh with pleasure. She didn’t though. She and Quinn were friends. Friends didn’t sigh with pleasure over the other’s touch.
He finished all too soon. “Thanks.” She shot him a smile, which she hoped he’d see as nothing more than a friendly one.
His reply was a slow, intense half-smile and a heavy-lidded look that made Christy’s heart beat faster. Their eyes locked. Was she reading the expression in his correctly? Was he suggesting that he would like to start something between them again?
Stormy stood up and stretched. The cat doesn’t like the leash.
“Too bad,” Roy said amicably. “Tell me where he wants to go and we’ll wander that way.”
Quinn looked away and the moment was lost. Christy suppressed a sigh and slipped her beach wrap over her sensible, one-piece suit. The wrap was a serviceable garment, V-necked cotton with crossed straps, loose sleeves and a drawstring waist, that fell to mid thigh. She rose to her feet. “I’m going over to see Noelle. I’ll take the l
eash, Roy.”
The cat doesn’t need a leash.
Christy didn’t comment on that. Roy handed her the leash, then went to sit beside Trevor and Ellen under the umbrella. Christy saw Sledge had wandered over to the tidal pool and was now standing by the castle with Tamara watching Noelle work. Christy glanced at Quinn. He was speaking to his father and didn’t seem to notice that Tamara was laughing at something Sledge said. Her heart lifted a little and she followed Stormy as the cat scuttled toward the tidal pool.
Noelle left off her building to fuss over Stormy when they arrived. Sledge patted the cat, who preened, chatted with Christy about the sunny day, then asked Tamara if she wanted to go down to the water. They wandered off in the direction of the still-receding ocean.
Noelle went back to her castle building while the cat settled down in front of the tidal pool. The tiny fish, hardly more than the length of one of Noelle’s fingers, swam lazily in the warm water. Nearby an equally tiny crab scuttled. The cat crouched, watching the action.
The sun shone down, relaxing Christy as Noelle told her all about the people who owned the castle and why they had asked her to create them a spectacular dwelling. She smiled and nodded in all the appropriate places and decided that the day, and the location, couldn’t have been more perfect.
A sudden tug on the leash, combined with Noelle’s shriek, brought Christy back to the moment. Under her shocked gaze, Stormy launched himself into the tidal pool, landing with a splash that had all the tiny fish skittering away. He stood immobile, water up to his belly, as if he hadn’t expected to end up in the water, and stared at the darting fish.
The cat is annoyed. The fish got away. He wants it.
There was another splash as Stormy pounced again, into deeper water. The small fish darted and ducked as the cat pursued them.
This is awesome! I haven’t been swimming in forever. The water is so warm!
Stormy hurled himself into the deepest part of the pool where the water was over his head. When he emerged, Christy saw a tiny fish in his mouth. Then, with a snap of strong jaws, it was gone. Stormy strutted out of the pool, rubbed against Noelle’s sandy legs, ensuring his wet fur was covered in grit, then came over and rubbed against Christy, transferring the sand to her.
“Thanks,” she said.
Stormy purred. The voice sighed. That was fun.
A short distance away, loud voices indicated new arrivals. Christy looked over and saw that the Farnsworth family was setting up their beach apparatus at the other end of the tidal pool. Leaving them to it, Patterson wandered over to Christy. “Did I just see your cat go for a swim?”
“He was fishing,” Noelle said. She cast a wary eye toward the Farnsworth kids. “He caught one of the minnows.”
“Really?” Patterson laughed. “Pretty good fishing then.”
Haley Farnsworth headed their way, brandishing a small plastic bucket and wielding a pint sized shovel. “He ate it,” Noelle said, making the words sound like a warning.
“Really,” Patterson said again. Her gaze, like Noelle’s was on the energetic Haley. “They’re not bad kids,” she said to Christy. “The problem is, Heather, their mom, is a worrier and Adam, my brother-in-law, is so tied up in his research he doesn’t notice much beyond it. Dylan wants to test himself, but Heather wants to keep him close, and Haley knows that if she pesters Dylan he’ll pay attention to her, and so will Heather. She’s a bit spoiled.”
A bit spoiled was one way of putting it. Christy had no intention of commenting on the Farnsworth-Patterson family dynamics, though. “What kind of research does your brother-in-law do?”
There’s another fish. The cat’s got it in his sights. Wait for it!
Noelle stopped digging to watch. Patterson noticed and raised her eyebrows, because at the moment Stormy was crouched unmoving, eyes slitted, apparently half asleep.
“He’s a marine biologist, specializing in aquaculture. He’s looking for ways to successfully farm salmon on land, rather than using ocean pens that encourage sea lice and disease that affect the wild salmon stock.” Patterson’s gaze, like Noelle’s, was on the cat.
“Important work,” Christy said. She was watching Patterson, not the cat, so she didn’t see Stormy lunge into the water. There was a splash, the water churned, then Stormy emerged. He chomped down on the small fish as he trotted out of the tidal pool.
“Yeah.” The detective shot Christy an amused look. “Your cat is quite the fisher.”
Christy laughed. “He is. I wasn’t expecting this. I thought cats didn’t like water.”
Patterson laughed too. “He’s acting more like a dog than a cat.”
Don’t insult the cat!
Unaware of the comment, Patterson continued. “Adam is one of the scientists lobbying the government not to renew the licenses for those fish farms already in the ocean, but he’s even more adamant that no new licenses are issued.” She shook her head, her eyes still on Stormy, who was back in his crouched position, stalking another minnow. “One of the big international fish farming companies wants to put an installation into Loyal Scotsman’s Bay on the other side of the headland.”
“Roy told me about that bay. He said it was mostly rocky cliffs, with a small beach that wasn’t all that great for swimming.” Not the place for families with small kids, he’d added. Not like ClanRanald Beach, which was perfect for kids to play and explore.
“He’s right, and it’s probably why it’s the last undeveloped piece of property along this stretch of coast,” Patterson said. “The company has an information building and a demonstration pen set up near the shoreline. Apparently, the government has sent a representative to inspect the site and there’s a discussion happening tomorrow. Adam plans to speak and we’re all supposed to attend to support him.”
“That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun.”
“Heather didn’t think so either. She told him she’d stay here with the kids. My husband Greg and I are going with Adam, though.” She laughed. “We’ll have a quieter afternoon.”
Haley arrived. She dumped her bucket inches from the cat’s head, then crouched down to pat him. Stormy shot her a narrow-eyed look, then stood, stretched and headed for Christy’s legs.
“I guess he’s tired of fishing,” she said to Patterson as she picked up the cat.
Not tired of fishing. The cat knows he won’t have any more peace to fish.
“Noelle, I’m taking Stormy back to the towels.”
“Okay, Mom.” Noelle picked up her bucket, dropped her shovel into it. “After he’s settled, can we go down to the water?”
“Sure,” Christy said. She nodded to Patterson, who waved acknowledgement. Back at their umbrella, she handed the cat’s leash over to Roy, then she and Noelle departed, leaving a pouting Haley behind to build on her own.
After a day of sun, fresh air, and water, everyone was mellow that evening. Roy got a fire going in one of the firepits to barbeque flattened, whole chickens and bake potatoes in the coals, while Christy and Ellen washed salad fixings. Over the simple meal, they made plans for the next day that included time at the beach, time at the beach, and time at the beach.
After the dinner dishes had been washed up by the men—apart from Roy, who had presided over the barbeque—they settled around the campfire and melted marshmallows on long metal sticks. Christy managed one, while Noelle could have kept going after five, if Christy hadn’t called a halt. After his share of the marshmallows, Sledge got out his guitar and played a classical Rodrigo composition that added a quiet beauty to the peacefulness of the evening.
The whole day had been everything that camping should be, but once Christy was settled in her tent for the night, she couldn’t relax. As she tossed and turned on her hard air mattress, tangled in her sleeping bag and desperately uncomfortable, she thought about Quinn. Had she been mistaken about what she’d read into his smile and the way his hands felt massaging lotion onto her back? Or had he been telling her something without words? Her thoughts
went round and round as she was torn between hope that there might be a future for herself and Quinn, and the memory of the day they split, when he’d told her he believed she was still in love with Frank and their relationship was doomed.
Over the weeks that followed his declaration she’d analyzed her feelings, and by June she was able to confidently say she was over Frank. Her next step had been to make Quinn see that a future was possible for them. Then his former love, Tamara Ahern, arrived in Vancouver and everything changed. Tamara had been vulnerable and needy, but she was also the embodiment of an unfinished passion.
At the campfire last night, Tamara sat beside Quinn and she’d looked more peaceful than Christy had seen her since her they first met. Quinn had been attentive and affectionate. They were clearly close, though it was impossible for Christy to tell if it was friendship, or something deeper between them.
With Tamara in the picture, pursuing Quinn seemed wrong, but if he and Tamara were just friends, didn’t she owe it to herself to make the effort?
In the gray light of dawn, while the campground was still quiet, her troubled thoughts cleared and she came to a conclusion. Quinn had to decide whether his feelings for his old love were stronger than the ones he had for Christy. She needed to step aside while he and Tamara figured out what they were to each other.
Her decision made, she fell into a deep sleep, and when she woke everyone was up. They were gathered around the picnic table enjoying coffee and a variety of foods that included yoghurt and fruit Tamara had gone out and purchased the day before, as well as eggs, bacon, and toast. As they ate, they discussed the weather and how it would affect their plans for the day.
At dinner yesterday they’d decided this would be another beach day, but the day dawned overcast, with rain forecast for the afternoon. Noelle wanted to go down to the beach before the rains came, which sorted out the morning, but that left the afternoon.
Still dressed in her sleeping clothes, which were yesterday’s T-shirt and a pair of loose drawstring shorts, Christy accepted a cup of coffee from Ellen. She savored the brew, which Ellen had made in a French press she’d insisted they bring, because she refused to use instant. Still groggy from her restless night, Christy yawned and said, “We could go into Nanaimo and take in a matinee or visit one of the malls.”