Serenity Harbor

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “I really need to talk to Sam. Is she here?”

  Curiosity flickered in Linda’s gaze. “She’s in the back, looking over an order of new purses that just came in from Genevieve Designs, the company run by Aidan Caine’s sister-in-law in Hope’s Crossing. They might be beautiful, but they’re ridiculously expensive. Between you and me, I don’t know how we’ll ever sell a single one, but as usual, Samantha doesn’t listen to me. You can go back.”

  Katrina glanced down at Milo, standing solemnly at her side. If this turned into a full-on fight and Samantha yelled at her and called her the ugly names she deserved, she didn’t want Milo there to hear. He disliked conflict and would probably freak. “Do you mind keeping an eye on Milo?” she asked Linda. “He’s usually happy playing with his cars.”

  She thought Linda might refuse, but the woman surprised her. She leaned down, her mouth lifting in the closest she came to a smile. “Milo, I know you enjoyed playing in the clothes the last time you were here. There’s a clearance rack over there. You can’t hurt anything there, and you can play with your cars inside all you want.”

  He appeared to consider this, then nodded and followed Linda to the round rack she indicated, slipping through the clothes to the middle, a secret little spot that probably seemed similar to the closet at home.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Linda said.

  “Thank you.”

  With no more reason to dawdle, Katrina drew in a breath, steeled her nerve and headed to the back room of the shop. When she entered, Sam looked up from tagging some colorful hand-sewn purses. Her pretty features tightened, but after that first moment of hesitation, she went on with her work as if Kat hadn’t even come in.

  Katrina moved closer to the table. “Hey there. Did your mom tell you Milo and I stopped by your house yesterday?”

  “Yes.” The single word came out with the same sharp staccato as the label gun in her hand.

  “She said you went to Boise to have lunch with a friend.”

  “That’s right,” Sam said. She didn’t offer any further information and Katrina didn’t ask, though she knew most of Sam’s friends. They had roomed together in Boise and hung out with most of the same people.

  She sat down on the chair across from Samantha, feeling miserable and awkward—emotions she wasn’t used to experiencing around her BFF.

  What if she couldn’t fix this?

  She let out a shaky breath. “Look, I need to talk to you about what happened with Bowie. What you saw.”

  The kiss that had destroyed her with that sweet, aching tenderness.

  “What’s to talk about?” Sam’s movements were jerky and abrupt as she pulled another purse out of the bag. “Obviously you saw a great-looking guy and you went for it. I would probably have done the same thing. Not if my best friend told me she was interested in him, of course. But that’s just me.”

  Katrina winced as the barb struck home. She and Sam had always promised each other they would never let a man come between them—but here they were. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. None of this... I didn’t want... Bowie and I are not in a relationship. I swear. Every time he kisses me, I tell myself it’s the last time, and then...it happens again.”

  That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Samantha’s mouth tightened. “So last night wasn’t the first time.”

  Katrina couldn’t lie. She shook her head, misery coursing through her like a black, endless river.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Do you know how stupid I feel?”

  She had bungled this whole thing from the beginning. She hadn’t been honest with anyone, especially not herself. “You shouldn’t. I’m the stupid one, Sam. You know I am. StupidKat, right? That’s me. I should have told you after our first kiss but...I was in denial myself. I kept thinking each kiss was a one-off and wouldn’t happen again.”

  “Are you sleeping with him?”

  The question slapped into her like an unexpected tree branch on a hiking trail. “No! We’ve kissed a few times. That’s all. It’s...it’s over. I told him the other night after you found us not to kiss me again. It’s just... It’s impossible and nothing can ever come of it. I mean, look at me. I’m stupid TwitchyKat and he’s a genius who graduated from MIT when he was still a teenager. Why would he even look twice at me? It was only a few kisses. That’s all. That’s all I can let it be.”

  She let out a breath, her throat so tight with emotion she could scarcely talk around it. “I’m so, so sorry, Sammy. I never wanted to be that girl, the kind who would be willing to ruin a friendship over a man. Especially not our friendship. You’re my best friend and I love you.”

  Kat could feel tears welling up and did her best to blink them away, but it was no good. A few dripped out anyway.

  Sam finally stopped tagging purses. She dropped the gun and, eyes narrowed, gave her a long, hard look across the table.

  “Do you have feelings for him?”

  A few more tears dripped out, and her nose started to run. Katrina swallowed as all the truths she had tried to deny rushed back. She remembered the tenderness of his kiss, how cherished she felt in his arms, the peace she found with him.

  This was different from all those other infatuations, as if every other guy she had thought she cared about over the years had been practice, preparing her to meet Bowie.

  “I...I’m leaving in two days. My priority is Gabriela.”

  “That didn’t answer my question.”

  She wanted to come up with a smooth lie, to make a joke, to be able to laugh off the question with her usual lighthearted humor. But she had lied to Sam enough and couldn’t find the words to do it again.

  Finally she nodded. “I don’t want to have them,” she whispered. “It’s completely impossible, but...I can’t seem to help it.”

  “You’re in love with him.” Samantha’s voice rang with astonishment. The shock made her feel even worse, if possible. “After all this time, you’re in love. With Bowie Callahan.”

  Why now? Why couldn’t she have met him a year ago or a few years in the future, when both of their lives were more settled?

  It didn’t matter. The when didn’t amount to anything. Their chances of a happy-ever-after were still impossible.

  “It will pass. Like all the others.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She wiped at her eyes to clear those pathetic tears that wouldn’t seem to stop. “Look, Bowie is a great guy. He’s brilliant and funny and kind. He’s generous and remarkably compassionate, especially considering how he grew up, and he’s trying his best to be a good brother to Milo even though it’s frustrating and hard. He deserves someone wonderful in his life. Someone like you.”

  Sam surprised her by reaching for both of her hands. “Or you.”

  She shook her head and opened her mouth to argue, but Sam cut her off, giving their joined hands a little shake. “Seriously, Kat? I know better than anyone that you’re not stupid. You never were. But I might have to change my mind about that if you’re really going to sit there and tell me you’re prepared to walk away from a guy who sounds like a freaking saint.”

  Relief flooded through her like the Hell’s Fury River after heavy rain, and she sniffled. That sounded much more like the friend she adored. Did that mean Sam was ready to forgive her?

  “He’s not a saint. Far from it. He’s impatient, he can be moody, he would be a workaholic without someone in his life to keep him balanced.”

  “And you can’t be the one to do that because...?”

  “I’ve made a commitment to Gabi, the first time I’ve been serious about anything in my life. I love her. She needs me and I...I need her.”

  “I don’t understand why you have to choose between being with Bowie and being with Gabi. Work things out with her, bring her back here and then grab onto him and hold on tigh
t.”

  “I don’t know if that’s possible,” she admitted. “Things aren’t going well with some of the adoption technicalities. There’s a chance I might not be able to bring her home. I might have to stay there.”

  “Oh. Don’t say that.”

  “It’s possible.” She still didn’t have any answers from Angel Herrera. She’d tried to call him that morning, but the call went straight to voice mail. “If not, I may have to be the one to relocate to Colombia to be with her.”

  “I hope not.” Sam mustered a smile. “I’ve missed you so much these last months. I don’t know what I’ll do if you move down there. I might have to pack up Fremont Fashions and move to Colombia with you.”

  Katrina wiped at her tears. “Let’s pray it doesn’t come to that. Although maybe your mom would meet a sexy Latin lover down there, grow her hair out of her poodle perm and learn how to dance the cumbia.”

  Sam laughed at that prospect. “I can’t wait to meet Gabi. You love her, so I’m sure I’ll love her, too. She’s going to have to call me Auntie Sam.”

  “I’ll make sure she does,” she promised.

  “I’m sorry I was such a bitch the other night and that I screened your calls and ignored your texts yesterday. My feelings were hurt—not because you were kissing Bowie but because you didn’t tell me something was going on between the two of you.”

  Sam hugged her, and Katrina wrapped her arms around her friend, filled with the sweet relief of reconciliation. Things were still far from perfect in her world, but at least she hadn’t forever lost a dear friendship.

  “I should go find Milo. Your mom was letting him play in the clearance clothes rack.”

  Surprise registered on her face. “She was? Good. Maybe he’ll ruin some of those hideous monstrosities so I can fill the space with some decent clothes for a change.”

  She laughed and Sam joined her. For a moment, it felt like old times, the two of them answering each other’s sentences and reading each other’s thoughts.

  * * *

  THE SENSE OF HELPLESSNESS—of circumstances swirling and writhing and swelling beyond his control like a tornado—was as familiar to Bowie as the rhythm of his heartbeat.

  He hated it.

  When he was a kid, he had never known what the day would bring—if they would have a roof overhead or get kicked out of whatever crappy apartment or camp trailer or friend’s guest room they currently called home. Maybe he would wake up and find Stella passed out on the couch or a new guy living with them or no food in the cupboards because she had friends over who ate everything that didn’t move.

  There had been good moments, too. It always seemed harder to dredge them out of the old memory bank, but they were there.

  Sitting by a campfire while she played guitar and sang in her husky contralto. Lying on a blanket in a sunlit meadow while they pointed out fanciful figures in the clouds to each other.

  In the two months since learning of her death, he had thought about Stella more than he had in all the years since he took off.

  He had come to accept that she had been a fragile, damaged soul. Devastated by her parents’ death when she was only a girl. Mentally ill, definitely—probably manic-depressive. She had certainly had substance abuse issues. She had needed help and had chosen instead to live an alternate lifestyle on the fringes of society, away from anyone who might have offered her that help. He would have felt nothing but pity for her, if not for Milo.

  With a sigh, he looked out the window of the family room. Lake Haven seemed unnaturally flat, motionless, as if even the ripples and waves were holding their breath in anticipation of the coming storm.

  “Here are the last of my things,” Katrina said behind him, and he turned to find her setting down her battered suitcase on the floor. She looked beautiful, bright and sunny as a July morning. It made his chest ache.

  “Mrs. Peters’s room and the bathroom are clean and ready for her. Milo even helped me make the bed, didn’t you, bud?”

  Milo gave an impassive nod. His brother’s reaction to Katrina leaving was part of the reason Bowie felt so uneasy. Milo adored her. Surely he should have some reaction to her departure instead of this unnerving calm.

  He had explained to his little brother that Katrina was going away but that a new friend would be arriving that day. Bowie knew she had done the same, over and over. Was it possible Milo didn’t understand? It was so hard to know how much filtered through.

  “Are you sure you have everything?” he asked.

  “Probably not.” She gave a smile that was a little too wide and polished to be completely natural. “If you find anything else of mine, I would be grateful if you would drop it at my mother’s place. She can either hold it for me or send it on.”

  That blade gouging into his heart gave another half turn. “Of course.”

  “What time is Debra due to arrive?”

  “She spent the night in Nevada after leaving her previous job in San Jose. When she emailed last night from Winnemucca, she said she expected to arrive shortly after two.”

  That sense of helplessness swirled through him again, that useless wish that he could convince her not to leave.

  He couldn’t give in to it. “I’m expecting her any minute now. If you need to go now, I’m here. You don’t have to stay until she arrives.”

  She raised an eyebrow with a look that plainly told him she wondered if he was trying to get rid of her. Never, he wanted to tell her. Please don’t leave.

  “I would like to stay until she arrives, if you don’t mind. I’d like to go over my educational methods and where I’ve seen the most success with him.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  She smiled a little, making that knife twist another half turn.

  He had never been in love before. So far, it basically sucked.

  “Would you be okay if I took Milo for one more walk while we’re waiting?”

  The prospect of doing something instead of sitting here waiting held vast appeal. He rose. “I’ll come with you.”

  Surprise flickered in her eyes, and she opened her mouth as if to argue. After a moment, she closed it again and shrugged.

  “Would you like to go feed the ducks?” she asked Milo.

  Bo’s brother pursed his lips as if his answer had the weight of a nuclear disarmament treaty. After a moment, he nodded with great gravitas.

  When they walked outside, Bowie thought again that the air had a heavy, expectant quality and the sky was a strange color—not quite green, not quite purple but somewhere in between.

  “We’re supposed to have a big storm this evening with heavy wind,” she said. “You may want to put away the patio umbrellas.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Under other circumstances, he might have credited the impending storm for this restlessness in him, but he knew better. It was all tangled up in the woman walking beside him and this painful tenderness scraping his insides raw.

  “What have you heard from Colombia and the adoption? Anything new?”

  She released a frustrated-sounding breath. “Crickets. It’s making me crazy. I’ve sent a half-dozen emails marked Urgent to my attorney. I’ve texted him and tried calling, and he’s not answering anything. The moment I get off the airplane, I’m heading straight for his office to make him tell me what’s going on. I’m going there first, before I even go to the orphanage to see Gabi.”

  At the distress in her voice, he had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her—or at least to reach for her hand and walk along beside her, with her fingers tucked inside his.

  It would have made such an ordinary yet appealing picture: a man and a woman holding hands on a lake trail as a young boy walked ahead of them.

  Instead, he mouthed the only platitude he could think of in
the moment. “I’m sure everything will work out,” he said. For her, anyway. At least she could have everything she wanted.

  “Thanks,” she answered.

  The rest of the way to Redemption Bay, they talked about inconsequential things while Milo stopped every few hundred yards to throw a rock or a leaf or a pinecone into the flat water.

  They were on their way back when his phone beeped a text message. He pulled it out with a vague feeling of dread that was confirmed when he read it.

  “That’s the autism specialist,” he said after he had answered Debra Peters. “She’s on the outskirts of town and should be at the house momentarily.”

  If he hadn’t been watching, he might have missed the brief twist of her features, a hint of shadow in her eyes. Was she regretting her decision to return to Colombia? Would she miss them?

  When she spoke, her voice held no inflection other than superficial cheerfulness. “Great. We should probably head back so we can be there to meet her.”

  A million thoughts went through his head as they walked back, things he wanted to say to her before she left, but he didn’t know where to start.

  Finally when they reached his house, he knew he had to say something. He reached for her hand and gazed into her eyes.

  “You’ve been amazing for Milo. I don’t want to miss the chance to tell you that. You saw potential where no one else did and worked tirelessly to bring it out in him. I had been seriously considering sending him to a residential school, but you’ve given me reason to believe I might be able to provide him a stable home.”

  “You provide him love. That’s the most important thing.”

  He looked at Milo, running his purple car around the edge of the patio table, and drew in a deep breath. He did love him.

  He hadn’t known Milo existed for most of the boy’s life. When he did find out about him, Bowie was ashamed to admit that at first he had resented the hell out of him, this strange, unique little stranger who required so much energy and patience.

  Katrina had led the way, shown him how to open his heart to Milo and see the potential in him instead of only problems.