The Water Baby

by Roz Denny Fox

  Temple looked out through the living room window at two panel trucks, where at least five men milled around, smoking. He passed a hand over his rough jaw and mentally calculated bodies times the hourly rate, which was a healthy chunk of cash. He glanced back and into Daisy’s eyes. “What’s a few bucks compared to maybe releasing the one dam in Rebecca’s mind that’ll make a difference? I’ll gladly pay.”

  Daisy’s heart did a funny little skip. Pure unselfish love was a rare and beautiful thing. Present condition excepted, Rebecca Maria Wyatt was a lucky little girl indeed. “I’ll go send them away,” Daisy said, giving Wyatt her best smile. If he hadn’t already wormed his way into her heart last night with the tender loving way he held his daughter, this latest gesture would have cracked open the door and let him in.

  “Is there anything I can do to get breakfast started?” she asked, surprising herself. She didn’t usually volunteer for kitchen duty. “Anything you need?”

  Temple named a few obvious ingredients like flour, sugar and salt. Daisy laughed. “I know we already have that stuff—you bought it yourself.” Still grinning, she shooed him back upstairs.

  “Mrs. Hargreaves down the street said she’d watch Pipsqueak and Troublemaker today to keep them out of the workmen’s hair. Maybe Becca and I will take them over now and stay for a glass of fresh buttermilk. I read somewhere that too many cooks spoil the broth. I’m positive it applies to crepes, too.”

  Temple smiled and scraped back a lock of hair that had fallen across his brow. “If you’re not back in half an hour, I’ll eat them all. And at my age, a man can’t take too much nch food.” He circled a hand over his flat stomach.

  Daisy moistened her lips. Who was he kidding? The man was all lean muscle. Lean tanned muscle, except for a teensy strip of white she could see below his open jeans. Hmph. You’d think she hadn’t seen lots of nearly naked male bodies out on those shrimp boats. Why, then, did less of Temple Wyatt seem like more? Like too much. Whatever the reason, Daisy elected to beat a hasty retreat. “Half an hour,” she said saucily. “And don’t overcook them.”

  “Not to worry. My teacher was a French chef who ran up a bill at my resort in Tahiti that he couldn’t pay. The guests liked the way he worked it off so much, I hired him. Now every time I go there, I get free cooking lessons.”

  “French cuisine won’t cut it here, bucko. This is a boardinghouse, not a resort. So, if you’re planning to run up a bill you can’t pay, you’ll work it off hauling nets.”

  “You’re a cruel woman, Daisy Sloan. I quite imagine your new partner would feed me to the sharks the first day out.” Laughing, Temple retreated up a couple of stairs.

  “You obviously don’t know how hard it is to get somebody to work nets, Wyatt. Shrimpers have been known to take a sweep of the drunk tanks looking for strong backs.”

  Temple stopped. “But not you.”

  “Not me what?”

  “You didn’t take vagrants out alone on a boat with you dressed like…like…”

  “Like what? Spit it out.”

  Too late, he realized he’d been about to make what would surely be considered a sexist comment. He didn’t do that with other women he knew. What was it about Daisy Sloan?

  “Like nothing,” he growled. “Take every damned degenerate in town out in that leaky tub of yours. End up shark bait, for all I care. It’s nothing to me. By the way, that’s a nice dress you have on You should wear dresses more often.” He was back up the stairs and his bedroom door slammed shut before she could swallow her surprise.

  “Right!” she shouted. “Dresses are so practical for shrimping. For your information, the Lazy Daisy is not a leaky tub.” She hugged Becca, who seemed alarmed by the loud voices. “Sorry, kiddo, your daddy brings out the worst in me.” They’d started for the front door when she decided he’d actually given her a compliment. Even if it was a backhanded one.

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, showered and shaved, Temple jogged downstairs, whistling. He felt pretty good. More than good. He’d faxed his banker the proposal and had already been faxed back with the go-ahead to buy the land. On the down side, he’d had another phone call from Miranda’s parents, asking if he’d found anything. Temple hated telling them that the Coast Guard had nothing and that he hadn’t gotten around to hiring a boat to go out and take a look himself. He should do it, if for no other reason than that they were Rebecca’s grandparents. His marriage might have been a mistake, Rebecca wasn’t. The least he owed them was peace of mind. Damn. His good mood vanished.

  He walked into the kitchen and smack into Sal and Daniel Coletti. His mood deteriorated even further.

  “Where’s Daisy?” demanded Daniel, punching the air with Daisy’s coffeepot. Sal glared with equal fervor over the rim of a cup he held to his lips.

  “Help yourself to coffee, men,” Temple said sarcastically. “I’m making strawberry crepes for breakfast. Should I plan on serving two more?”

  Sal Coletti’s lip curled. “Look, Mr. Fancy Pants, we just wanna see Daisy.”

  Temple checked his faded khaki chinos. They were a long way from fancy.

  “Yeah, dude,” Daniel drawled, draining the pot into his cup. “Don’t get smart with us. You’re only a big cheese in Cal-ee-forn-i-ay. Not here.” He glanced around suspiciously. “Where’s Daisy?”

  Temple was damned if he would tell them Daisy was two houses down the street. Besides, he was dying for a coffee. Sidestepping Sal, he grabbed the pot from Daniel and dumped the old filter in the trash. What would they do if he casually mentioned having kissed Daisy last night? Rearrange his face? Might be worth the licks he’d get in first. But the lady deserved better than kiss and tell “Did the shrimp quit running?” Temple asked as he measured water. “Thought you guys went out at daybreak.”

  “I own the boat, and I go when I want. Where was Daisy last night?” Daniel growled. “I phoned here at ten. Didn’t get any answer.”

  Temple nudged Sal out of the way and took down a cup. Ten was about the time he and Daisy had been out on the front porch. He hadn’t heard the phone, but then he hadn’t been listening, either. He turned away with a casual lift of his shoulder.

  Daniel boxed him against the sink. “We don’t like smart asses.”

  “Really?” Temple shrugged again. “I’m not her keeper, gentlemen,” he said, focusing on the sway of Daniel’s gold earring.

  “Look, pal,” the younger Coletti said. “We didn’t come to fight with you. Daisy’s most always home. Dan’l got to worrying.”

  Temple understood worry. He’d done enough of it himself over the past six months. He backed off. “Daisy took Rebecca to Mrs. Hargreaves’s. If you want to see her, go there. She was home all evening. Sat out on the porch with Rebecca until late.”

  The two Colettis placed their empty cups in the sink and both made for the back door. “No need to bother her,” Daniel said gruffly. “Independent as she is, she probably wouldn’t thank us for messing m. Don’t need to mention we dropped by. I promised her old man I’d keep an eye out for her, is all. Like to keep my promises. Especially to the dead, if you know what I mean.”

  Temple guessed that was Daniel’s way of saying he had Papa Sloan’s blessing. “No problem.” Temple studied the coffee that had begun to stream into the pot. “Actually I’d planned to hunt up Sal this afternoon.” Temple had a promise of his own to keep. To Miranda’s parents.

  “Me?” Sal acted surprised.

  “Yeah. My ex-in-laws are having a hard time. They don’t understand the lack of information regarding the explosion and the wreckage.”

  Daniel broke in. “They have Daisy’s statement.”

  Temple nodded. “Yes, but they’d like me to nose around and see if anything got missed. I thought if Sal knew anyone who was going to drop nets out there, I’d pay them to tag along for a day.”

  Sal stroked his chin. “How much?”

  Daniel grabbed his brother’s arm. “You stay outta the Row, little brother. Daisy didn’t have no bus
iness being there, and you don’t, either.”

  Sal jerked his arm from Daniel’s hold. “I’m my own master, Dan’l. Don’t push. And I ain’t Daisy. It’ll cost ya, dude,” he told Temple. “Two hundred bucks, plus you help pull nets. I don’t fool around, either I expect you to pull your weight.”

  Temple had figured more than twice that amount. And he was no stranger to hard work. Did they think a man got to own world-class resorts without getting his hands dirty? “Tomorrow?” he asked. “I’d go today, but I’ve got an appointment with my daughter’s doctor. Otherwise, the sooner the better.”

  “Tomorrow it is. Sunup. Pick you up at the curb. Bring your own coffee and lunch. Don’t be late. You snooze, you lose. Got that, dude?”

  Temple nodded curtly. Spending the day with this turkey wasn’t going to be any picnic. He hoped Miranda’s folks didn’t want him going more than once. If the authorities had found nothing, what could he hope to turn up? He stood for several minutes after the Colettis had left, doing nothing. His stomach felt a little queasy just thinking about going out to where people he knew had died so violently. Where, except for the grace of God and the presence of one woman, he’d have lost Rebecca, too.

  Temple roused himself enough to start the crepes just as Daisy and Rebecca walked in the back door. Luckily he’d washed Daniel and Sal’s cups, or she would’ve been even more suspicious about his lack of progress.

  “I don’t smell breakfast.” Daisy wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air. “We’re hungry, aren’t we, Becca?” She lifted the girl into a chair at the table.

  Temple sighed. “I guess I’m never going to get you to call her Rebecca, am I?”

  Daisy flushed. “Sorry. I don’t know why it’s so hard to change. Sometimes I call her my Water Baby.” Then she explained why.

  Temple nodded. “I know the story.” He smiled at the child who regarded him with wide somber eyes. “Well, maybe she’ll remember one of the names,” he said with a shrug “I won’t mention it again.”

  “Is something wrong? You look sort of down in the mouth.”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Actually I should be happy My banker gave me the green light to buy the Galveston property “

  Daisy was much more excited about that news than she had any right to be. “Good for Galveston,” she said mildly, curbing personal satisfaction as she pretended interest in Temple’s batter-measuring techniques. “I guess that’s why breakfast isn’t ready yet. Why don’t I set the table? Jeb’s crew will be back soon, and I don’t want to have to feed that mob. It’d break the bank. My bank.”

  Temple chuckled. “The good thing about crepes is that they cook fast. I set the strawberries out to thaw last night Do you want to pour Rebecca a glass of this milk before I put it back in the fridge?”

  “Yeah. Boy, she hated buttermilk. Hasn’t she ever had it before?”

  “I doubt it. Although I don’t know what all Miranda fed her. I thought she might have tried it.”

  “Apparently not. She spat it out all over Mrs Hargreaves’s new vinyl floor.”

  “I’m sorry. After breakfast I’ll go clean it for her.”

  “I already did. Found out her new flooring cleans like a dream. And she has six grandkids, so it didn’t faze her in the least.”

  “Then right after breakfast we’ll visit Dr. Rankin, if it’s okay with you.”

  She glanced up from setting the table. “I wasn’t sure you still wanted me to go.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.” She turned back to the table. “We can skip the Railroad Museum if you’d like.”

  He frowned as he poured the crepe mix onto a hot griddle. “Did I miss something? I thought we decided on the museum and afterward, the beach, if Dr. Rankin had no objections. Oh, and weren’t we going to buy Rebecca some shorts?”

  “Yes, but I figured since you got the nod on the property, you’d want to go nail it down. Anyway, last night you said building sand castles was silly.”

  Temple flipped a crepe out on a plate, then covered it with strawberries and sour cream and folded it like a pro. After testing it for warmth, he set it in front of his daughter. He was pleased to see that once again Rebecca made no effort to avoid him.

  He lingered at the table for a moment, giving Daisy a sidelong glance. But because he felt he owed her an apology for the way he’d acted last night and because he didn’t quite know how to phrase it, he went back to the griddle and flipped out another crepe.

  She did nothing to make his apology easy. Finally, as he handed her a plate, he tackled the problem head-on. “Daisy, last night was hormones talking. It had nothing to do with sand castles. I was angry at myself for kissing you when I shouldn’t have.”

  “Why shouldn’t you?” Daisy gazed at him over Rebecca’s head. Before he could answer, however, the girl pushed her empty plate toward Daisy and mumbled what sounded like “More.”

  Both adults did a double take. “Did she speak?” Temple asked.

  “Sounded like it to me. This is what happened yesterday with the cinnamon rolls and the cat. She seemed to say just one word, then nothing more. Rebecca, honey, do you want another crepe?” Daisy leaned over and spoke directly to the child.

  Temple held his breath, but only the tick-tock of the clock broke the silence. Rebecca stuck her fingers in her mouth. Temple took the plate away and hurried to fix her another crepe “She definitely said, ‘More.’ God, I never thought I’d be so happy over one word. I can’t wait to see the doctor. Are you okay with leaving Jeb’s crew here alone while we’re gone?”

  Daisy nodded, wishing he’d go back to her question about why he shouldn’t have kissed her. She’d liked the experience, and after thinking about it most of the night, imagined he had, too. But maybe not. Or perhaps he worried that she’d want more than kisses from him—like maybe marriage. He’d be considered a good catch; Daisy knew plenty of women whose fishing expeditions weren’t confined to the gulf.

  She’d barely tasted the first bite when Temple plopped a second fatter crepe on her plate and roused her from her daydream. Rebecca was already halfway through hers.

  “I’m getting full,” she protested. “You take this one.”

  “There’s plenty. One won’t last you. Better eat while you can.”

  “I thought maybe while you tell Jeb’s men what needs to be done with the wiring, I’d fix a picnic lunch—for the beach,” she said. “Unless you’d rather do something else.”

  “Railroad Museum first, then the beach. Sounds good tome.”

  “Well, we could save building sand castles for tomorrow.”

  Temple turned away from her steady gaze. “I, uh…” How should he put this without letting her know the Colettis had been checking up on her?

  “I didn’t mean to imply you had to spend every day with Rebecca and me,” Daisy rushed, feeling her cheeks heat.

  “It’s not that,” he assured her. “Tomorrow I made plans to go out to Rum Row. Miranda’s parents called again. They’re really pressuring me.”

  Daisy toyed with her strawberry-and-sour-cream sauce. “I see.” Her stomach seemed to object to what she’d already eaten. For a moment she saw that yacht again splintered across her wake.

  He unplugged the griddle and sat down with his plate of crepes. “I don’t expect to find anything, but maybe by just going, I can help ease their pain.”

  “Hey, you don’t owe me any explanations. I’ll take Becca upstairs to get her cleaned up. Thanks for making breakfast.”

  Her prim thanks irritated him. “Call it fair trade for your picnic lunch. I know you like to keep score.”

  “I don’t—and I wasn’t. It’s just that no one’s ever cooked for me before. I don’t know quite how to act.”

  “Your dad never cooked?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t Daniel invite you over to his place for wine and pasta?”

  “Daniel had to fix three squares in his family for so long, in addition to work and school, I
don’t think he looks at any facet of KP as enjoyable.”

  “So if his wife works outside the home, she’d have to pull double duty.”

  Daisy stiffened. “I don’t see how that concerns either of us.” She stood, carried her plate and Becca’s to the sink and put them in to soak. When she finished, she took the child by the hand and led her away.

  Damn, Temple thought. He always seemed to put his foot in it where Daniel Coletti was concerned. Why couldn’t he just accept what Daisy said—that she didn’t intend to marry the guy?

  Perhaps because that wasn’t the message Daniel seemed to be receiving either.

  A GOOD TWO HOURS LATER, after Daisy had dealt with the tantrum Rebecca threw in the hospital parking lot, the three of them sat in Dr. Rankin’s office, feeling frazzled.

  “This is great news.” The doctor looked up from the journal of Rebecca’s progress they’d brought in and beamed. “These small snatches of speech tell me you’re getting closer to the key that’ll unlock her mind.”

  “I hope bringing her here didn’t set her back,” Temple said. “She seemed perfectly content in the car, but when we pulled into the parking lot, she went wild.”

  “That’s normal. In a way, it shows a thought process working. She equates this building with the pain of blood tests and such. See how listless she is again? She may do this seeing water, boats and who knows what else.” He studied Rebecca for a long minute, then glanced at Daisy. “If you don’t mind, I’ll have my secretary run a copy of this journal for the other team members. I’ll let you know if they concur with me.”

  Daisy laced her fingers through Becca’s damp curls. She didn’t know how many such episodes she could take—let alone the child. It wasn’t so much the tantrum as the terribly blank look that was back in Becca’s eyes. “We were going to the beach this afternoon to build sand castles and look for shells. Should we skip it?”

  “Did we lose ground?” Temple added. “Or is this a good time to show her there are fun things to do at the beach?”