“I’ll pull the stingers out,” he offered.
“No!” Hope tucked her feet under her, which must have jiggled the stingers, because she cried harder. “Mommy do it.”
Sean glanced at Anna. “Better if I do, because there’s a trick to getting them out without getting stabbed yourself.” He smiled at Hope. “Did you ever see a movie that had a magician in it?”
She nodded, tears rolling down her rosy cheeks, lower lip sticking out.
“And did you know it’s really important to believe in the magic?”
She narrowed her eyes, then nodded once.
“Well,” he said, calling up a trick from elementary school days. “I have a little magic, and it’s because I have eleven fingers. Want to see?”
Hope frowned, forgetting to cry. “You have ten fingers. Everybody does.”
“Not me.” He counted, using his forefinger: “One, two, three, four, five—” he switched to the other hand “—six, seven, eight, nine, ten. That’s funny.” He twisted his features into a puzzled frown. “Let me try again. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six... Okay, six on this hand.” He switched to the other. “Five, four, three, two, one. Five on this hand. Six and five is eleven.”
Hope’s forehead furrowed as she studied his hands and tried to puzzle out what he was saying.
“That extra finger means I can make things not hurt.” He glanced at Anna, who was fighting a smile. “Distract her?”
“Yeah.” Anna gently straightened Hope’s leg. “What we’re going to do,” she said, reaching up to include Hayley in the circle, “is to make up a story about a jellyfish. We’ll start it here, and then finish it at home, and you can draw pictures. When we’re done, you can show it at Ma Dixie’s tomorrow so everyone can see what happened.”
“And that we were brave,” Hayley said. “That’s how we should start it—we were brave.” She patted Hope’s hand. “You’re brave.”
“That’s a good idea, and you’re both very brave,” Sean murmured, plucking out stingers. He’d had a ton of practice doing this, having helped his younger brothers many times, and done it to himself, as well.
“I don’t want... Ouch!” Hope cried.
“All done,” he said.
Anna turned toward him, a relieved smile creasing her face. “Really? Already? Thank you so much! What else should I do for it?”
“Nothing better than salt water. Some antibiotic ointment when you get back home, if you have some.”
“Come on, Hope. Let’s go in the water again!” Hayley was done being sympathetic.
Hope’s lower lip stuck out, and then she looked up at Anna as if assessing how much attention she could get by making a big deal of a sting that Sean could guarantee barely hurt anymore.
“Go on,” Anna said. “You’re all better. I’ll walk down with you.”
“Okay,” Hope said, and walked down with her mom holding hands, Hayley several yards in front of them.
Sean just sat there in the sand, watching. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t help checking her out.
She was so pretty. And such a good mom. And, yeah, there was a chance she’d end up back with her husband, but even knowing that, Sean was only human.
He wanted her, not just her body but the whole package, the person she was.
After watching the girls for a few minutes, Anna turned and came back, brushing the hair out of her eyes with a self-conscious gesture. “Thanks for helping Hope,” she said. “I didn’t have a clue what to do. I was scared it was poisonous.” She grinned. “Although, since you have eleven magical fingers...” Her eyes skimmed over him and darkened.
At that point he realized he had no shirt on and that he was slick with sweat. As was Anna.
When their eyes met, heat and desire sparked between them.
Finally she looked away and cleared her throat. “Um, so. Do you think that critter is poisonous?”
He pulled his mind back to the present moment. “Not so much, not around here,” he said. He forced himself to look down the beach, out to sea. “Happens to every kid,” he added. “They’ll watch out for the jellyfish now.”
“I think they’re disgusting,” Anna admitted, wrinkling her nose. “That’s one thing we didn’t have in Montana.”
“Yeah.”
Their conversation went on, but Sean could barely focus and he had the feeling that the same was true for Anna. He kept stealing glances at her, and a couple of times, he caught her looking at him, too.
It even seemed like she was enjoying looking at him, and that tantalized him, in addition to being a little flattering.
And that made him think back to kissing her, practically on this very spot. She’d seemed to enjoy that, too.
“Sean?” Her curious expression made him realize he’d dropped the thread of the conversation.
He’d been thinking with his body, which wasn’t cool. “You know what? I’m going to dip in the ocean, wash off the sand.” He stood quickly and jogged down to the water and right in until he was waist deep.
It was the cold-water jolt he needed. His brain reactivated and with it, his sense of caution.
He’d rinse off, make sure Hope’s foot was okay and then head back to his work and then his cabin. No harm, no foul.
As he walked out of the water, though, Hayley grabbed his hand. Not to be outdone, Hope ran over to his other side and grabbed that hand.
And God help him, he couldn’t bring himself to shake them off. “How’s your foot feel?” he asked Hope.
“My foot?” She looked at him blankly. Best sign possible.
“Your jellyfish foot, silly!” He restrained a laugh. She’d forgotten. Kids were amazing that way, so resilient, so in the moment.
“Oh!” She frowned down at the wrong foot. “It’s fine, I think.”
He nodded gravely. “That’s good. You have a very fast-healing foot.”
Hope beamed and squeezed his hand, and the simple confidence in that gesture made Sean’s breath stutter.
They were approaching Anna, who was watching with eyes wide and shiny. And then he realized that the girls were talking to him as naturally as if they’d been doing it their whole lives.
He’d made it into the inner circle, apparently.
“Guess what?” Hayley tugged at his hand. “We’re getting a dog!”
“Yeah!” Hope dropped his hand to dance around in excited circles. “For ’tection, so a big one.”
“Want to come look at it with us?”
Anna clapped a hand to her forehead. “I am so sorry. I should have checked with you about whether dogs are even allowed here.”
Sean was still processing the for-protection idea. “Tony got permission to bring his dog, when he stayed here a while back,” he said. “Eldora loves ’em. If a dog will make you feel safer, go for it.”
The girls cheered and danced around, giving Sean the chance to move closer to Anna. “Any more packages?” he asked.
She shook her head, tiny wrinkles appearing between her eyebrows.
Hayley sank down in front of him. “Will you come with us to get the dog?”
“Yeah, will you?” Hope added, flopping down beside her twin. Then both girls stared at him with wide eyes, obviously planning to put on the pressure until he gave in.
He glanced over at Anna.
She shrugged, a grin tugging the corner of her mouth, probably because she could see the twins’ tactics were working on him. “You’re welcome to come. We’re going around four this afternoon.”
“Well...” The thought was appealing, but he shouldn’t get any more involved with Anna and the twins.
“You can give us feedback on a good Southern dog, one that’ll be okay here.”
It sounded like she really wanted him to come, and that undid him. And after all, it wasn’t as if he ha
d something else to do on a Saturday afternoon. Maybe he’d even take them to dinner.
Just don’t get too close, he reminded himself.
“We should go back up to the cabins and shower,” Anna said to the girls. Then she glanced over at him. “I should have brought us cover-ups. I was thinking we had the place to ourselves.”
He met her eyes, held them. “Believe me, I’m not upset.”
Her cheeks went pink. “Girls! Come on.”
He scrambled to his feet and followed. “And I’d be glad to come along on your dog shopping trip,” he added.
Even as he scolded himself for being a fool.
* * *
THE NEXT SATURDAY, dressed in her waitress uniform, in front of her apartment building, Rita hugged her friend Norma with mixed feelings. “You’ve been a royal pain in the behind this week,” she said, “but I’ll miss you.”
“Same.” Norma hugged her back. “Look out, or I might get sick of that cold Maine weather and move here.”
“I wish you would. I could help you find a place.” Rita put her hands on Norma’s shoulders and studied her. Norma would be so pretty if she’d make half an effort. But Rita knew better than to bring that up.
Around them, the streets were busy with Saturday-morning activity. Up the street, someone who looked like Claire was headed in their direction.
“If you don’t get moving on your own behalf, I will.” Norma glared. “You know what I mean. Take some steps to find out what happened to you.”
The very idea made chilly fingers squeeze Rita’s insides. And the dread was getting worse, not better. “Not your problem.”
“It is my problem.” Norma frowned. “You stood by me when I was sick with cancer, and I’ll stand by you now. Whether you want me to or not.”
“Get on out of here.” Rita forced a laugh and gave Norma a gentle shove. “I gotta get to work.”
Norma closed her car’s trunk and walked over to the driver’s side. “Speaking of your job, you ought to take the plunge with that Jimmy,” she said. “He’s interested. I could see it.”
“I doubt that.” Rita said it automatically, although she knew he was; he’d asked her out. And the notion hyped up her pulse a little bit. “Go on! I’m sick of your advice.”
There was the sound of a gulp and crying behind her, and Rita turned to see Claire hurrying down the sidewalk, tears streaming down her face.
Strange sight, when Claire was usually so upbeat. Rita moved toward the younger woman, one arm extended. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
But Claire didn’t look in Rita’s direction. She practically ran by, headed toward the main street of town.
Rita looked back down the street from which Claire had come, and the likely source of the problem was right there: Brandi. Along with a couple of other women, all thin and blonde, looking after Claire and talking and laughing.
Norma was looking in the same direction. She lifted an eyebrow at Rita. “Mean girls?”
“Uh-huh. Move here, and you can help me get rid of them.”
“I’d like to.” Norma reached out and gave Rita another hug, the smell of cigarette smoke matching her husky voice. “I miss you, girl.”
“Miss you, too. Now, go on. And quit smoking, okay?”
Norma snorted, slid into her car and drove off.
Rita continued the rest of the way to work, soaking in the small-town vibe she was coming to like: a group of old men talking on the sidewalk, two teenagers walking identical little white dogs, an old truck proclaiming the merits of Shrimpy’s Shrimp Company puttering down in the direction of the docks. A soft sea breeze kissed her face.
She could like it here without delving into the past, couldn’t she? There was no need to dig up all kinds of old news and finished business. Lots of people visited Safe Haven, or moved there, drawn by the nearby beaches and the friendliness. She could just be one of those people.
But her own stream of thoughts made shame burn in her. Cowardice, that’s what it was. Fear of what she might discover about herself. What if she found out who her child was and barged into his life, or hers, and disrupted everything? What kind of mother was she, anyway, that she didn’t even remember whether she’d birthed a boy or a girl?
She shook off her thoughts as she reached the café and saw Claire sitting at the counter. That was Rita’s station today, so after she put on her apron and clocked in, she headed over. “Anyone wait on you yet, honey?”
“No, ma’am.” Claire forced a smile.
“What can I get you?”
“Pie à la mode. Pecan.”
“Good choice. Abel puts a little extra magic into his pies. Coffee to go with?”
“Sweet tea, please.”
That sounded like a horrible combination, but there was no accounting for tastes. Rita brought Claire her pie and tea, and then leaned on the counter. “You okay? Saw you headed this way and got the impression you were upset.”
“Nothing sugar won’t cure.” Again the younger woman forced a smile, but Rita could hear the hurt in her voice.
“Sometimes women are the worst,” Rita said as Claire took delicate bites. “I don’t want to pry, but I saw that little clique hanging around in front of the boutique. That kind doesn’t have anything better to do than pick on other women. They ought to be ashamed.”
Claire sighed. “Well, and I ought to lose weight. They’re right about that...”
“Is that what they were on you about?” Rita huffed out a breath. “That’s ridiculous. There’s all kinds of beautiful, and seems to me there’s a man to appreciate every kind.” Her heart ached for the young woman. “I remember when I worried about what I looked like. Chipped teeth and a broken nose, and I felt like everyone who saw me knew the rough way I’d been treated.”
“You?” Claire looked disbelievingly at Rita. “You’re so pretty.” She finished the last bite of pie and shoved the plate away. “I shouldn’t have eaten that. I gotta go to work. No doubt the skinny gals will come in to buy their yogurt and Diet Coke and they’ll have plenty to say.”
“Then go fix yourself up before you leave,” Rita said. “Wash your face. You don’t have to dress to please anyone but yourself, but you do need to wear what you like, and hold your head high. A little makeup wouldn’t hurt, either.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Claire stood and turned toward the ladies’ room, then glanced back at Rita. “Seriously. I’m glad you moved here.”
As Claire walked toward the ladies’ room, Rita came around the edge of the counter and sank down onto a stool. That word—Mom—had hit her like a knife, ripping open her guts.
Someone had called her “Mom” before.
Someone she’d taken care of that way—told how to behave, given advice and a pat on the shoulder.
She’d been a mom before.
She’d known it intellectually, but she’d never felt it until now. Pain cut through her, taking her breath away with its sharpness. What had happened? What had she lost? And who had nurtured her child once she’d gotten her amnesia?
Had she done something awful, to lose custody of her own child?
Shortly after waking up in Maine, she’d learned that she’d given birth. The hospital that had treated her could tell, and later, her gynecologist had confirmed it. But she’d never known if she’d raised the child, never remembered anything about it.
Until now.
And all because a friend had made an offhand joke: Thanks, Mom.
“Taking the afternoon off?” Jimmy’s teasing voice brought Rita out of her reverie.
She slid off the stool, shaking the memories away. “I’m sorry. Just spacing out.”
“You’re allowed.” He stood beside her, close, and she could see every hair on his muscular arm, every bit of ink in his tat, and it made her warm. “We’re not busy. Sit down. What’s giving you that mill
ion-miles-away look?”
“Just...the past.” There was no way she could explain her issues to Jimmy. It wouldn’t make sense to anyone, except possibly Norma.
He squeezed her shoulder, quick and somehow personal. “Just don’t hang out there too long. There’s a whole world in the present moment and a whole future ahead of you.”
Good advice, but hard to put into practice, she thought, watching him walk away. He shared an easy laugh with Rip Martin, a next-to-homeless guy who stopped in often for coffee and a hot meal. For free, she’d learned when Jimmy had taken Rip’s check from her and ripped it up, one day when she was waiting counter.
Jimmy was a good man.
She was wiping off the counter when she noticed one of her customers, a younger guy named Sean, walking by with a woman and two cute girls, along with a big black Lab that kept pulling on the leash.
Funny, she’d had the impression Sean was single.
Not so funny: seeing him and his young family made her feel somehow sadder.
She blew out a sigh. She had to find out what had happened to her. Had to take more steps to figure it out, because Norma was right. For her own peace of mind, she needed to know the truth, even if the truth made her completely miserable rather than setting her free.
Hard to know where to start, but the image that kept popping into her mind was Abel’s face, his wise, all-knowing eyes. She couldn’t put off talking to him forever, out of cowardice.
She’d find a time to speak with him, she told herself firmly. Sooner, rather than later. Maybe even today.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ANNA AND THE twins were walking out of the grocery Sunday afternoon when a high-pitched scream pierced the air, sending bolts of panic through Anna’s chest.
“My car! Somebody trashed my car!”
It was the friendly cashier, Claire, examining her car almost directly in front of them. “Stay here and watch the groceries,” Anna told the twins, and hurried a few steps to reach the distressed young woman.
Her car was spray painted with ugly words—the same words that had been on Anna’s cabin, plus additional slurs related to Claire’s weight—and her tires were slashed.
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