She whipped around, clutching the front of her sweater. “So tell me something,” she said, her heart hammering against her knuckles, “if you think what we did was so wrong, why did you agree to begin with?”
When he turned back, regret flooded his eyes. “Because there would have been hell to pay if I hadn’t. Only, what I didn’t realize, was that the debt would still have to paid, someday. With the kind of interest my stockbroker can only dream about.” He ducked his head slightly to peer at the sun streaming through the pines. “Shaping up to be a pretty day—the dogs might appreciate a nice, long walk, hmm?”
His gaze glanced off hers before he walked away.
Chapter Seven
“She’ll be fine, Mama,” Ryder said as the twenty-foot-long boat, with his father at the helm, smoothly sliced through the cove and out toward the slate-blue, sun-flecked waters of the open bay. “All the times we went out as kids, nobody ever fell overboard.”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”
Ryder’s laugh cut through the motor’s whine. “Of course I am. But it’s true.”
Mel wrenched her gaze from the curly-headed, life-jacketed pumpkin squealing with delight in the seat beside David only to have that gaze slam into the windblown glory that was Ryder. One foot up on the side bench, an arm slung lazily across the back—putting it within scant inches of Mel’s shoulder—he was clearly in his element.
And she had to say it made her feel good to see him looking even a little relaxed. Content. She had to resist reaching over, taking his hand. Because that would be entirely inappropriate. Not to mention stoopid.
There’d always been a boat, Mel recalled as she looked away, although David had clearly traded up since the night Ryder had clandestinely taken her out for a short spin when she was thirteen or fourteen—an event that would have frosted all their parents had they known. And Mel couldn’t deny that the thrum of the motor through her veins, the gentle sting of breeze-blown spray in her face as the sweet little cuddy skimmed the water’s surface...fed something inside her as much now as it had on that moonlit night when everything felt possible and it had been enough to simply enjoy that whole big brother-little sister thing they’d had going.
Overhead, an eagle soared, the sun glancing off its white head, its low kak-kak-kak competing with the rush of wind in her ears. Spotting it, Quinn pointed.
“Is that an eagle?”
“It is,” David shouted. “There’s a pair with a nest at the very top of one of the pine trees over there. Watch...”
The magnificent bird dove toward the water, snatching a fish in its talons before flying off again.
“Cool!” Quinn said, and Ryder’s father laughed. Quinn hooked a hand over her eyes to watch the bird flap back to its nest. “Mom said the bay’s home to lots of birds.”
“Yep. More in the warmer months, but still plenty that hang around all year. Or even winter here. You like birds?”
“You kidding?” Quinn said, shoving her more tangled than usual hair behind her ear, where the wind whipped it away again. “I love birds...”
“Uh-oh,” Ryder said, sliding close enough for Mel to hear him. For his breath to make her skin prickle. “She’s got him in the palm of her hand now. Dad took up birding a few years ago, spends nearly every Sunday morning traipsing through marshes and the forests farther inland with binoculars and a guidebook....”
Sure enough, David was grinning to beat the band. “Me, too.”
“It’s going well, don’t you think?” Ryder said, his voice low.
Tensing, Mel glanced away. “That they’ve bonded like Krazy Glue, you mean?”
“I thought that was the point?”
“I know, I just...sorry,” she said, giving her head a sharp shake. “Ambivalence blows. I also keep thinking...” She sucked the inside of her cheek. “How much I wish my father was here. That he could have met her.” Tears bit at her eyes. “He would’ve been nuts about her, too.”
“I’m sure,” he said, then chuckled when Quinn laughed again. “But then, who wouldn’t?” He paused. “She’s definitely your kid.”
Mel smiled. “Does she remind you of me at that age?”
He tilted his head, as though thinking it over. “Some. Not nearly the little pest that you were, though.”
“Hah. Wait until you get to know her better.”
Too late, she realized what she’d said. Implied. Thankfully Ryder either didn’t pick up on her oopsie or decided to take the honorable route and not mention it. “I’ve got great memories of your father. Seeing him and your mother together, the way they’d kid around...and fool around,” he said with a grin, and Mel sighed, remembering they’d had no problem with expressing their affection for each other, despite Mom’s oft-giggled, “Tony! Not around the children!” “They always seemed so comfortable together.”
Mel nodded over the sting at the back of her throat. “I always thought they had the perfect marriage.”
“Yeah,” Ryder said, his gaze fixed on his father’s back six feet away. “Me, too.” The rest of that unspoken thought—and Mel had no doubt he’d left things unsaid—trailed out behind them as his father began to circle a grouping of small islands, chatting away to her rapt daughter. “It must’ve been so hard on your mom, after Tony died.”
“It was. He was her rock. Mine, too,” she said, then huffed out a breath. “Then I go and get myself knocked up...” Suddenly chilled, she tugged her hood up over her mist-damp, flyaway hair.
“What did she do?” Ryder asked. “After you guys, um, moved?”
Mel allowed a tight smile for Ryder’s word choice. “She surprised me, actually. She started her own business, vetting and referring household help for families that still wanted their own domestics rather than using a maid service. It took a while to get it really up and running, of course, but between our survivors’ benefits from Social Security and...funds from your parents, we managed. And it gave her something to focus on, keep her mind off things. And once Quinn was born...” She smiled. “She was the best grandmother ever.”
“What about yours?”
“Amelia? What about her?”
“She really never spoke to you again?”
“Nope.”
“Not even at your mother’s funeral?”
“There wasn’t one. Mom didn’t want anyone to ‘make a fuss.’ Said, since the family had drifted apart, anyway, what was the point?” She snorted. “Just like Nana, who apparently didn’t want a service, either.”
“I know.”
“Oh, right. Of course,” Mel said, thinking that she had no earthly idea what to do with the ashes she’d picked up from the funeral home the day before.
“So I take it she and your mother never patched things up between them, either?”
Mel shook her head. “Not that Mom gave her the chance, since she refused to even tell Nana she was sick. And threatened me within an inch of my life if I did.”
Ryder hooked his elbow over the back of the stern, watching the rooster-tail of spray for a moment before saying, “What is it with humans and their damn pride?”
With a short laugh Mel said, “I know, right?” Then she linked her hands over her knees as she watched her daughter, who was clearly having the time of her life. “Why Nana deliberately severed ties with all of us, why we all isolated ourselves from each other, I have no idea. But I’ll tell you this—I can’t imagine there’s anything—anything—that Quinn could possibly do that would make me cut her off. Any more than my mother did me, even though I will never, ever forget the look on her face when I told her I was pregnant.” Her gaze drifted to Ryder, watching her with a calm intensity that sent a shiver scuttling up her spine. “I’d sliced her heart wide open, and we both knew it.”
“Hearts heal,” Ryder said. But lookin
g away, as though trying to convince himself of that fact.
“So I hear,” Mel said gently, shivering again when he gave her a small smile. “In any case, I don’t suppose I’ll ever know why Nana never accepted my parents’ relationship. Other than the obvious, that she simply didn’t think my father was good enough for her daughter. That Mom could have done better.” She tucked a stray hank of hair behind her ear. “As if. Hey, cutie-patootie,” she said as a grinning Quinn wedged herself between Ryder and Mel with what Mel guessed was a profoundly happy sigh. “Having a good time?”
“Uh-huh,” she said with an enthusiastic nod, then twisted to Ryder. “This was the best idea, ever, Ryder! Thank you! And your dad is so cool! He knows, like, everything about birds and the bay and stuff. He said, if I want, I can go with him the next time he goes birding.” She wiggled back around to give Mel the Pleading Hound Dog look. “Can I, Mom?”
Mel’s eyes shot to Ryder’s, then back to Quinn. “Um, I don’t know...we’re not going to be here much longer—”
“He said Sunday. That’s only a few days from now. So please?”
“We’ll see, hon,” Mel said, cringing even as the words left her lips. Fortunately, Quinn was too spellbound to call her on the prevarication, instead turning her attention to Ryder, with whom she chattered non-stop the rest of the ride, giggling right on cue in response to his benign teasing.
Just as Mel had done with her father, she realized with a bittersweet pang. And as she listened to their easy, natural interplay, Quinn’s sparkling giggles juxtaposed to Ryder’s rich laughter, as she caught his delighted glances over her daughter’s head—glances that made her heart knock in her chest—she realized she was liking all of this far too much for her own good. For anybody’s good.
And yet, as they neared the marina again, she felt like a kid herself, not ready for the outing to end. So when Ryder suggested she and Quinn tag along when he drove out to check on a housebound patient, Mel was hard pressed to find a reason why they couldn’t. Shouldn’t.
’Course, his smiling right into her eyes and tripping a breaker in her brain might’ve had something to do with that.
“I’ve got a better idea,” David said to Quinn after they’d disembarked. “You like hot fudge sundaes?”
Quinn’s brows dropped. “Dude! Is that a trick question?”
“Not at all,” David said, chuckling, as Mel gasped out a mildly horrified, “Quinn! You don’t call grown-ups ‘dude!’”
Still laughing, David turned to Mel. “Finnegan’s decided to stay open year ’round. Thought I’d treat my g—...my new friend while you two go on out to the Washingtons’.”
Her stomach jerking at David’s slip, Mel reached for her daughter’s hand. “Maybe another time, it’s kind of cold for ice cream, anyway—”
“No, it’s not!” Quinn said, pulling away from Mel to clasp her hands under her chin. Above which her teeth were chattering. “P-please, M-mom?”
“We still have all those cookies at the house. And the cheesecake—”
“And they’re all stale and gross!”
“It’s only for an hour,” David said, his eyes every bit as imploring as her daughter’s. Although for completely different reasons, she knew. Reasons that could easily trip him into saying something to Quinn Mel wasn’t ready for her daughter to hear. But how was she supposed to do her Mama Bear act with Quinn standing right there? Then Ryder touched her shoulder, making her look up to see that It’s okay, I’ve got this look in his eyes before he called to Quinn.
“Hey,” he said, holding out his hand to her, “wanna go take a look at that big yacht at the end of the pier?”
Amazingly, she went, although not before lecturing him on how she hadn’t held hands with a grown-up since she was six, geez.
After they were a safe distance away, Mel faced Ryder’s father again, his yearning expression as he watched Ryder and Quinn mosey on down the dock almost making her wish they didn’t have to have this conversation. But before she could speak, he said, “I know. What I almost said.” Finally his eyes met hers. “And you have every right to be ticked. And concerned. But I swear it won’t happen again.”
Mel glanced at her daughter, who was happily yakking poor Ryder’s ears off, then back at David. “‘Concerned’ doesn’t even begin to cover it, Dr. Caldwell. ‘Worried sick’ is more like it, that this whole thing’s going to blow up in our faces, that I have no idea how Quinn’s going to take this news as it is. At least I’d like to control the when and how.” She smiled weakly. “A deluded concept though that might be. Even so,” she said on an exhaled breath, “why should I trust you?”
Behind his glasses, self-reproach burned in David’s eyes. “Because I already love that little girl with all my heart. I promise you I’d never do anything to hurt her. And the last thing I want to do is get on your bad side.”
“A little late for that, isn’t it?”
“I know, what we did to you, and her...if you never forgive us for that, I doubt anyone would fault you. Including me. But now that I’ve met Quinn, I can’t imagine not having a relationship of some kind with her. And I daresay neither can Ryder,” he said, nodding toward his son and granddaughter walking back toward them, and Mel’s breath caught in her throat at Ryder’s besotted expression as he watched Quinn zigzag from one side of the dock to the other, still talking a mile a minute. Even a moron could tell how good she’d already been for him.
Or, in her case—big sigh, here—how good he’d been for a baggage-ridden chick who’d made “don’t trust the bastards” her mantra.
“We only want what’s best for Quinn, too,” David said quietly. “But how can we prove that if you don’t give us a chance?”
She met the older man’s gaze. “And Mrs. Caldwell? Is she included in that ‘us’?”
“Right now she’s all wound up in that damn pride of hers,” he said, and Mel thought of Ryder’s earlier comment. “It’s hard for her...” Clearing his throat, he glanced down, then lifted sheened eyes to Mel. “To admit she made a mistake. Or to ask for forgiveness. Doesn’t mean she’s not thinking about it, though. Thinking about it hard, too, if you ask me. Mel,” he said when she turned away. “There are certain...things you don’t know.”
Her head snapped back around. “What things?”
“Things I’m not at liberty to discuss at present. All I can say is, there might have been more behind Lorraine’s actions than appeared on the surface. Not that she said anything directly, but I know my wife. And right now, I know she’s struggling.”
As Mel gaped at David, a red-cheeked Quinn bounded up to them. Followed by an ambling Ryder, hands in pockets, his relaxed smile at odds with the obvious longing in his eyes. Eyes which connected with hers, rife with undefined questions.
“So did you decide?” Quinn said, grabbing Mel’s hand. “If I can go get ice cream with Dr. David?”
No mean feat, making a decision when your brain cells were in roller derby mode, slamming against the inside of your skull, taking each other out, splat! But a decision she made, based on two things: one, that she truly believed David wouldn’t spill the beans, if for no other reason than she doubted he’d want to deal with the fallout by himself; and two, that letting Quinn hang out with Ryder’s father gave Mel the perfect opportunity to grill Ryder about his mother.
“How long do you think we’ll be?” she asked Ryder.
“Hour, hour and a half—”
“Take your time,” David said, smiling down at Quinn. “We’re in no hurry. Are we, Quinn?”
Then two sets of eyes canted to Mel’s. Sheesh.
“Oh, all right,” she said, and Quinn gave Mel a hard hug before falling in step beside David, chattering away and matching him stride for stride as they marched down the dock and into what Mel suddenly realized was her future.
Like it or not
.
* * *
Ten minutes later, after she’d taken advantage of the marina’s facilities to “freshen up,” as Nana used to say, they were whizzing past vast, flat fields of just-harvested farmland and Ryder had once again fallen into pensive mode. Not somber, she didn’t think, but definitely contemplative. Not unheard of even when he’d been a teenager. Although then, according to her mother when Mel had complained about his crazy mood swings, he’d been at the mercy of some vicious hormones. Now he had cause—
“I know that wasn’t easy,” he said, making her flinch. “Leaving Quinn with Dad.”
“There’s an understatement,” she grumbled.
“I’d say it’s going to be okay, but I don’t want to get smacked.”
“Good call.”
He chuckled. Good to know she hadn’t lost her touch. Except he sank into silence again, making Mel think maybe this wasn’t the best time to get chit-chatty about his mother. So instead she said, “Where are we going again?”
“You remember old Moses Washington? Used to have a fruit-and-vegetable stand out on the highway—”
“Where Mom used to take us?” All of them, Mel thought with a half smile—Blythe and April as well as Ryder, piled like puppies in her parents’ Dodge Caravan, wearing flip-flops and terrycloth coverups and smelling of sunscreen and cherry Popsicles. “You bet.” Then she frowned. “Is he sick?”
“Just old, mostly. Turned eighty last month.”
“Get out. Really? Wow.”
“Yeah. His heart’s not what it used to be. Or his mind, unfortunately. Which is why I go out there, since bringing him into the clinic confuses him. He still lives in his house, but his oldest daughter Nina and her husband live with him now, since his wife died five, six years ago.” He flashed her a grin. “Fair warning—there will undoubtedly be pie of some kind. Which Nina will expect you to eat.”
“I can do that,” Mel said, then laughed. “Gosh, it seems like a million years ago. Those summers.” She blew another, shorter laugh through her nose. “How on earth—why on earth—did you put up with three teenyboppers like that? The giggling alone must’ve driven you insane.”
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