Divided Hearts

by Susan R. Hughes

  They met both Simon and Mary in the kitchen, dressed and seated at the table, each with a mug of coffee. Faye felt suddenly conspicuous in her robe and slippers.

  “Good morning, you two,” Simon said, offering a soft smile as Hannah scampered across the room, her bare feet pattering on the tiled floor.

  “Morning,” Faye muttered, her pulse jumping erratically as his blue eyes met hers. “Have either of you eaten yet?”

  “Not yet.” Mary began to rise from her chair. “I was about to scramble some eggs. Would you like some?”

  “Yes, but let me do it,” Faye offered. “After all the cooking you did yesterday, I owe you at least one meal.”

  Mary shook her head. “Don’t be silly.”

  “I insist. How do omelets sound?”

  Heeding the resolve in Faye’s tone, Mary relented, taking her seat again. “Sounds perfect. Thank you.”

  Faye turned to Simon. “Same for you?”

  “Sounds wonderful. Use whatever you see in the fridge.”

  Relieved that both of them liked the sounds of the only breakfast she knew how to make, Faye opened the fridge and peered inside, finding eggs, milk, cheese and several mushrooms. She was cracking the eggs into a bowl when she heard a crash behind her; she turned to see Hannah standing by an open cupboard on the far side of the kitchen, hugging a box of crackers to her chest. On the floor a canister of coffee lay on its side, the contents spilled across the tiles.

  Jumping up from his chair, Simon plucked the box from her grasp. “No crackers now, love. Breakfast is coming.”

  Hannah stared up at him in surprise, her mouth drawing down into a deep frown. The lips trembled a moment and then parted, emitting an earsplitting shriek that made her father recoil visibly in alarm.

  “She doesn’t tolerate hunger well,” Faye warned, catching a glimpse of flapping arms and stomping feet. “And her penchant for emptying cupboards is another matter.”

  “This is just what you were like, Simon,” Mary noted, standing up. “Into everything, and not easily diverted from whatever caught your interest.” She moved quickly to a nearby closet to retrieve a broom and dustpan.

  As quickly as she could, Faye grated some cheese and diced the mushrooms. Despite her urge to put the food aside and scoop up Hannah, she decided to let Simon deal with it. Initiation by fire was often the best way to learn.

  “Come on, clear the way.” Hooking his hands under her armpits, Simon lifted Hannah to let his mother sweep under her; further affronted, the little girl howled and thrashed in his grasp, scissoring her feet in the air.

  “Get her some juice,” Mary advised, raising her voice to be heard over the wailing. “That should keep her satisfied until breakfast is ready.”

  Setting the bawling child back on the floor, Simon hurried to the fridge. Clearly agitated, he filled her sippy cup and handed it to her with lightning speed, but she only batted it away, before hurtling herself onto the floor, flailing and shrieking.

  “She didn’t do this yesterday.” Simon turned to Faye with desperate eyes. “What am I doing wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Faye reassured him as she poured the eggs into a warm frying pan. “It’s just a tantrum. Best to ignore it. She doesn’t get break-fast until she calms down.”

  Simon did as advised, turning his back on Hannah until the tantrum petered out and she was sitting quietly on the floor, snuffling, her tear-streaked face a picture of desolation. By that time, the omelets were ready and Faye had distributed them on three plates, with small pieces laid out in Hannah’s bowl.

  Calmer himself, Simon lifted the toddler into her high chair, then fastened her bib around her neck. Exhaling a sharp breath of relief, he placed her bowl on her tray, before settling into his own chair.

  “There you go. Breakfast. You should be happy now.”

  Peering down suspiciously at the bowl, Hannah prodded the omelet several times with her finger, then abruptly seized the bowl and tossed it over the side of the tray. It landed on the floor with a clatter, the contents scattering.

  “Hannah, that was very bad!” Simon admonished, his voice stern yet admirably restrained, considering the exasperation etched through his features.

  Glancing over, Faye spotted a fleck of egg dangling from his eyebrow. With her hand she smothered a grin, hoping he wouldn’t notice her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

  Simon returned a wry smile. “Surely this doesn’t happen to you.”

  “All the time.” Though she couldn’t quite stifle her amusement, Faye felt tremendously sorry for him and wanted to offer reassurance. “She’s a normal toddler. Believe me, you can handle it.”

  * * *

  Faye’s eyes flickered up and down between her sketch pad and the window, as she drew her pencil across the paper in quick motions. Having roughed out the rolling form of Thormanby Island across the bay, she began filling in the stretch of deep blue water between the island and the pebbled beach below the house, its gently swelling surface glinting with bright sparks of sunlight. The dark silhouettes of Douglas firs swayed on the shore, framing the scene.

  Without a table she had to balance her sketch pad on her lap, holding the top edge with her left hand. Heeding an impulse, she’d borrowed a chair from Simon’s office, rolling it over to the picture window at the edge of the loft. She’d meant to walk down to the beach as soon as Hannah went down for her nap, but the window here framed the view so perfectly, Faye couldn’t help but grab her sketch pad and capture it. Simon had been right in choosing this spot for her; it provided an ideal retreat to indulge creative whims. Since she’d taken up illustration for a living, Faye didn’t draw compulsively very often, as she had as a child, when art had provided a much-needed refuge. In her pictures she could create order, and even escape to any place and time her imagination could produce. She saw her ability to draw as a blessing, not only for those who appreciated her work but for her own peace of mind.

  Glancing up, her eye caught a motion far out in the bay—a splash of water so tiny in the distance, she couldn’t make out whether it was an otter, a dolphin, or even a piece of driftwood bobbing on the waves.

  “What are you working on?”

  Startled, Faye spun her head to find Simon standing behind her, peering over her shoulder.

  “Nothing special,” she said shyly, resisting the urge to cover the paper with her hands. She had never liked people to see her work before it was finished.

  Simon smiled mildly, his eyes roaming over the drawing in admiration; she dropped her gaze to her lap, acutely aware of the bare expanse of her legs under the pad, exposed in mid-length shorts that gathered at the tops of her thighs when she sat down.

  “Looks exceptional to me,” he said, his face close enough for his breath to tickle her scalp. Conscious of the measured cadence of his breathing behind her, she held onto her own breath for a moment; his warmth glowed against her back, seeming to swell against her with each rise and fall of his chest, gentle as the waves that ripped in the bay below. “You’re very talented.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t know you’d brought supplies.”

  “It’s just a pad and pencil I keep in the car, in case I come upon something I’d like to sketch,” Faye explained, exhaling at last. “I just wanted to try to capture the feel of this place.” To take it home with me, she added silently. “I thought I saw something splashing around out there. I wish I could get a little closer, to see what it is.”

  “You can,” he said casually. “On my boat.”

  She looked up at him with surprise. “You have a boat?”

  He grinned mischievously, brows twitching upward. “My third book went into a fourth printing.”

  Faye felt a smile spread across her own face. “Could we really?”

  “Of course. It’s just about time for Hannah’s nap. We could take a little cruise around.”

  Though her heart leapt with anticipation, Faye hesitated a moment. Obviously Mary would have t
o stay here with Hannah, meaning Faye and Simon would be alone on this outing.

  Then again, what could happen during an hour on the open water in the middle of the day? And simply gazing out at the pristine bay had brought her such a warm sense of contentment and creative inspiration—she simply could not resist the chance to immerse herself in the scene.

  “Twist my arm, Simon Blake,” Faye said giddily, rising from her chair, all hesitation swept aside by the prospect of this next adventure.

  Chapter Six

  “So this is Secret Cove,” Faye said dreamily. Following Simon along the dock, she turned her head to gaze out at the placid sheltered harbor around them. A sheet of vivid blue water fringed with dense forest, dotted here and there with cottages set among the tress, the gently curving inlet felt like a place that only a small number of fortunate souls might be privy to.

  “Watch your step.” Simon’s hand curved firmly around Faye’s elbow and held her in place, preventing her from striding headlong off the side of the dock and into the water.

  “Thanks,” she said sheepishly, glancing down at the dark ripples below, warmth creeping into her face as she took a few steps back from the edge. “Gotta watch where I’m going,”

  “Not to worry, I’ve got life jackets aboard in case of further distraction.” Simon regarded her with a half-smile of amusement, loosening his hold as he guided her toward a sleek thirty-seven-foot sailboat, pearly white with rich teak trim. “Well, here she is.”

  “You named your boat after your niece,” Faye said, reading the words Sienna Rose stenciled on the hull. “I think it’s sweet.”

  “Yeah, well, I bought the boat just after Sienna was born. With her dad being away so much, I helped look after her quite a bit; she’s always been rather special to me.”

  The sentiment both surprised and moved Faye. Hearing the warmth in his voice, she could sense what Hannah must mean to him, even in the short time they’d known one another.

  “Shall we board?” Offering Faye his hand, Simon helped her step up into the cockpit, following her aboard after unmooring the boat. Faye took a seat on the bench behind the hatch, feeling her heart begin to patter in anticipation as he started the motor. She’d travelled on plenty of ferries, but never on a sailboat this size. Growing up, from shore she had watched the small boats glide through English Bay, their clean white sails slanting in the wind, and often wished herself aboard and free to roam as far as she pleased.

  In the calm, clear weather Simon steered the boat easily past a group of tiny wooded islands and into the open water of the strait, where he cut the motor and Faye helped him raise the sails. As the wind carried them, a flock of herring gulls wheeled across the pale sky above, their plaintive cries piercing the air. Though the sun warmed Faye’s face, the air was cool out on the water, lifting her hair and raising goose bumps on her arms.

  At the helm, Simon looked focused and commanding. Observing him, a shiver ran through Faye; she could blame it on the cool wind that tugged at the neck of her blouse, but there was something about watching him command the vessel that stirred her feminine senses.

  It had seemed harmless enough to be alone with him here, out on the open water, exposed. Yet there was no one around, save for other small vessels far in the distance; and she and Simon were trapped together in this small space, with no way to avoid one another. The prospect struck her as both exciting and daunting.

  As the boat pushed forward, Simon pointed out the jagged shores of Smuggler Cove, and later the sun-blanched beach of Buccaneer Bay, wedged into the thickly wooded shoreline of Thormanby Island.

  “Such evocative place names here,” Faye remarked wistfully. “You’d think this area was a hub of illegal activity at one time.”

  “Aye, matey, a haven for scurvy pirates and bootleggers,” Simon quipped in his best West-country accent, casting her a roguish grin.

  “I can’t say I blame them, it’s just stunning out here,” she added, admiring the rugged coastal mountains rising in the distance. “Do you come out often?”

  “Between books. This is where I can really clear my mind and flesh out new ideas. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone out here with me.”

  “Do you prefer to be alone?”

  “Not necessarily,” he replied, and Faye glanced back to catch him watching her, his blue eyes glinting in the sunlight like the shimmering surface of the water.

  “Your mom says you have an aversion to commitment,” Faye heard herself remark, before thinking better of it.

  “She said that?” He barked out a laugh. “Maybe she has a point. Like you, I never planned on having children, and a family is something most women seem to want. In the past they have tended to believe they can change my mind, if only they could get me to the altar.”

  Faye blinked at him in surprise. Watching him clown around with Hannah and Sienna, she’d never have guessed he didn’t want children of his own. Had Jenna known this about him? If so, maybe her reason for not telling him she was pregnant had been to avoid the rejection of her child that she fully expected. What she did was still terribly wrong, but it might explain her actions in some part.

  “Did Jenna fall into that category?” Faye ventured.

  Simon laughed again, but with more irony than amusement. “We never got that far. Didn’t she tell you anything about us?”

  “Not much.”

  “Jenna didn’t appreciate peaceful beaches and pretty sunsets. She’s a city girl, and the quiet here drove her mad.”

  “What exactly did you two share in common?” Faye wondered.

  Lips compressed, he considered for a moment before answering. “I suppose we were both feeling lonely, seeking companionship.”

  Faye supposed it made sense. Since the ninth grade Jenna had never been without a boyfriend for long, though she wasn’t particularly choosy, and her relationships tended to be short-lived. It was as though she couldn’t stand the idea of being alone, and any decent, available male would serve as an adequate place-filler.

  Not that she’d been scraping the bottom of the barrel by any means by dating Simon Blake. A man who was … lonely? Faye found it hard to imagine him lacking offers from female admirers.

  “For someone who didn’t want children, you’ve jumped into it with both feet,” she remarked.

  “I suppose I was afraid I wouldn’t take to it, or that I’d feel compelled to run away from it like my father. But now, I’m simply puzzled as to how he could do that.”

  “It’s hard to understand,” Faye agreed. “Parents aren’t supposed to act like petulant children. Before they act they should think of the consequences for their kids. Someone who can’t do that shouldn’t be a parent.”

  Simon eyed her speculatively. “You told me your parents had a nasty divorce, and you’re not close to your mother. I take it she wasn’t one to put her daughter’s needs first?”

  Faye felt her stomach dip at the question. She preferred not to think about her relationship with her parents if she could help it. “That’s putting it mildly. She was wronged, but she should have been able to put it behind her for my sake. She made retribution more important than my best interests. For that I won’t ever really forgive her.”

  “And your dad?”

  Faye shrugged. “We get along all right, but I guess I still blame him a little for what happened. He’s the one who had the affair. But he’s suffered for it—and in the end his mistress left him for a younger man.”

  Simon nodded his understanding. “Sounds like it’s been rough for you.”

  Releasing a gentle sigh, Faye waved a dismissive hand. “It was, but I’m on my own now. I don’t need them anymore.” Her words didn’t quite ring true, but it was what she’d been telling herself for some time, and she couldn’t stop now.

  “How I’d hate for Hannah to say that about me one day,” he remarked.

  Faye turned to him, regretting that she may have inadvertently cast an unfavourable light on parenthood. “She won’
t. You’ll make mistakes, but I don’t see you messing up that badly.”

  His hand still on the wheel, Simon settled next to her on the bench, squinting against the sun as he studied her face. He paused before speaking. “This morning, when Hannah was having her fit, it really rattled me. Until then I thought I had this parenthood business figured out.”

  “Don’t be hard on yourself,” Faye said. “She’s really a lad-back kid, but it’s not an easy job for anyone. They test you over and over again, in a million ways.”

  Simon nodded. “I know. But you see, I’m the type of person who needs to feel he has control over all aspects of his life. I suppose it could be a reaction to having so little control over what happened to me as a child. First my father disappeared, then my mother took us to a new country, none of which I had any say in.” He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee as he continued. “Finally, though, I had my career in my own hands and I felt comfortable in my life. Finding out about Hannah, suddenly the bottom dropped out of my cozy existence, and I’ve been scrambling to regain my footing ever since—if you’ll forgive the mixed metaphors,” he added with a half-smile. “It certainly has been a test, in more ways than one.”

  Faye sat dumbstruck for a moment, his honesty touching her as it surprised her. She understood just what he was saying; she, too, had felt powerless as a child, not knowing from one day to the next whether the whims of her parents or the courts would pluck her out of her current home and place her in some new arrangement in which she had no say. All at once she felt deeply curious about Simon Blake’s past, and the influences that had shaped him into the person he now was … a person she quite liked spending time with.

  “Think of it as a growing experience,” she offered at last, “a chance to learn that you just can’t have control over everything in your life. That is, if you really had any to begin with.”

  Letting out a slow breath, Simon straightened. “I’ve already learned a few things about myself. My mother isn’t so wrong, you know. In my relationships, it’s always me who backs away. I’m thirty-four years old and still looking for excuses not to settle down. I have to wonder, is it that I’m afraid to surrender my heart to someone else’s command?”