Island Summer Love

by Amy Belding Brown

  “What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever been on a boat before?”

  She shook her head.

  “I thought all of Martha’s friends were boat lovers. You really aren’t like the others, are you?”

  Did she detect amusement in his tone or was it just her imagination? “I had a bad experience as a kid,” she murmured.

  “I’m glad you told me.” He squeezed her hand gently. “But there’s nothing to be afraid of. All you have to do is step into the painter.” He aimed his flashlight at the flimsy boat tied to an iron hitch on the side of the float. The gap between the float and the boat was dark, abysmal. Water slapped the sides of the float. Allison felt dizzy; her skin was clammy. She had a wild desire to run back up the ramp and to keep running until she reached the safety of the Hollingsworth cottage. She looked at Brent.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “There’s nothing to it.”

  She took a deep breath and stepped into the boat. It rocked wildly beneath her, and she clawed frantically at the air.

  “Sit down!” Brent was suddenly beside her, pushing her down on a low plank that ran between the sides of the boat. “Just take a couple of deep breaths and sit still. You’re doing fine.”

  She did as she was told, clenching her hands together in her lap, her eyes riveted on Brent as he dropped the small outboard motor attached to the boat’s stern into the water. He started the engine and they began moving almost at once, gliding noisily out over the black water, trailing a dull white wake. Allison couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt so frightened. The whole evening had become a nightmare. She started shivering again, violently this time.

  “Cold?”

  She shook her head. “I think it’s just nerves.”

  When the painter was only a few yards from Brent’s lobster boat, he cut the engine and moved into the bow. He crouched expertly on the gunwales and reached out over the water. Allison felt the painter bump against the side of the larger boat. Almost instantly he had tied the skiff to the mooring and climbed into the lobster boat. Leaning toward her over the gunwales, he spoke calmly but firmly.

  “Hold my hand, Allison. Take your time.”

  She stood up slowly, moving carefully along the boat until she could touch Brent’s hand. She no longer felt quite as terrified, despite the nearness of the dark, lapping water. Brent circled her wrists in two iron hands and pulled her smoothly upward while her legs scrambled to get a footing on the slippery side of the lobster boat. A moment later she was standing next to him.

  “Welcome aboard the Blue Lady. I’m afraid my timing’s terrible, but I’m going to have to kiss you.” He smiled apologetically.

  “What?”

  “It’s an old tradition on this island. When a lady comes on board a boat for the first time, she has to kiss the captain.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He shook his head. “It’s to ensure good luck.”

  “You’re making this up.” She backed away from him.

  “Absolutely not. One thing you can count on, Allison, I don’t tell lies.” He stepped close to her. “You don’t want to jinx the trip, do you? The way things are going tonight, we need all the luck we can get. Believe me, if it wasn’t an unbreakable tradition, I wouldn’t ask.” He cocked his head and his smile widened slowly. “On the other hand, maybe I would.”

  He put his arm around her and bent his head. As his lips brushed hers, Allison felt an intense wave of pleasure pass through her body. Her hands reached involuntarily for the back of his neck, but he had already stepped away. Allison felt jolted, acutely aware that she wanted him to kiss her again, a deep, lingering kiss.

  “Thanks,” he said softly. “Now we’d better get this old tub moving.”

  He went forward into a sheltered area covering the wheel, and started the boat’s engine. It made a powerful, throbbing sound deep inside the boat. Allison ran her fingers slowly over her lips. She’d never known a man could kiss that way. Cabot’s kisses had always been hard and dry. She felt weak and dazed; she didn’t know how much of her feelings had been generated by worry and how much by Brent’s kiss.

  “Come on inside the cuddy,” Brent called, glancing over his shoulder at her as the boat started to move across the broad arc of the harbor. “You’ll freeze out there.”

  She went to him, into the dimly lit pilothouse, and sat on the wooden crate he indicated. She gazed up at him and at the black sky and water that framed his body. She tried to think of Martha and the hospital where they were headed, but all she could do was remember Brent’s lips against hers. His physical presence seemed to be the only reality in the world.

  Two hours later Allison was sitting in the hospital waiting room between Abel and Isabel Cutler, while Brent telephoned Martha’s parents. Isabel had filled her in on all the details of Martha’s condition: the broken leg and rib, the mild concussion, even the bruises and scrapes. Luckily there had been no serious internal injuries. Allison listened anxiously at first, but Isabel’s matter-of-fact tone eventually reassured her that Martha was going to be all right.

  “It’s really a miracle,” Isabel said. “She could have been killed instantly. It happened right in front of our house, you know. At that awful curve. I sometimes think they shouldn’t allow cars on the island. A lot of places don’t.”

  “They didn’t have them on Harper’s before the summer people came,” put in Abel.

  Isabel laughed. “They didn’t have cars, period, before the summer people came.”

  “She’s really going to be all right, then?” Allison asked again. She felt numb with relief.

  “Of course, dear.” Isabel reached over and patted her hand. “She’ll be laid up for a bit, though. She’ll need somebody to be with her.”

  “I expect they’ll send her back home to Boston,” Allison said, suddenly realizing that her stated desire to return home was about to become a reality.

  “I doubt that,” Abel said. “More likely they’ll hire somebody to wait on her hand and foot and leave her up here where she won’t bother them.”

  “Abel!” Isabel’s sharp voice silenced her husband, but Allison had caught a hint of the truth behind his words in her own dealings with Martha’s parents. Their relationship with their daughter was one dominated by attempts to control her behavior.

  A young, dark-haired doctor approached them, striding quickly across the gray-tiled floor. Allison and Isabel looked up expectantly; Abel got to his feet.

  “Dr. Silverman. How is she?”

  “Sit down, Mr. Cutler.” The doctor smiled down at them pleasantly. “Martha’s doing fine. You can see her now, if you like. She’s out of recovery; her bones have been set, and she’s resting comfortably. She may be a little woozy still, but that will pass in a few hours.”

  Allison swallowed. “How long will she be staying in the hospital?”

  “About a week, I’d say. Maybe less. Of course, she’ll need some care at home for a while, but I understand that won’t be a problem.”

  “Certainly won’t,” said Abel.

  “Are you her grandfather?”

  Abel shook his head. “No relation. Just friends. Her folks live in Boston.”

  The doctor nodded. “Well, be sure to have them see me when they get here.”

  Brent appeared at his elbow. “They won’t be coming.”

  The doctor turned to him. “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve just spoken with the Hollingsworths on the phone. They don’t think it’s serious enough to warrant disrupting their busy schedules.” Allison could read the disgust on his face.

  The doctor shrugged. “Well, in that case, I’ll keep in touch.” He nodded briefly and walked away.

  Brent raked a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Those people have all the money in the world, but they don’t have time to come to the hospital to see their own daughter!”

  “They’ve always been like that,” Isabel said, rising and putting her hand gently on his arm. “She’s used to it, Br
ent.”

  “How can anybody get used to that?”

  “They live in a different world. Now, come on and put on your best smile. The doctor said we can see her now.”

  “They only allow two visitors at a time. You two go ahead. I need a few minutes to calm down. Allison can keep me company.” He flicked a glance in her direction.

  “Yes,” Allison said quickly. “Go ahead. And please don’t hurry on my account.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Isabel smiled and gathered up her coat, nodded to Abel, and the two of them headed down the hall.

  Brent sank into the chair next to Allison. “People like that make me sick,” he muttered. “And they wonder why we natives resent summer people!” Allison turned to him. His bitterness was almost palpable. She felt the waves of anger flowing from him into the room.

  “Everybody isn’t like that,” she said. “I’m sure there are good, decent people who vacation on the island.”

  “Are there?” He looked at her and smiled grimly. “I suppose you’re right. But Mr. and Mrs. Hollingsworth have always made my blood boil. They come here and act like royalty, but they don’t have an ounce of humanity in their souls. They’ve come up here for years and never had the slightest connection with the people who live on the island year-round, except to hire them for menial jobs. I never understood why my grandparents put up with it. The Hollingsworths never treated them like human beings. I had the misfortune to make their acquaintance two summers ago, and I wish to God I’d never laid eyes on them!”

  “Was that the summer you had an affair with Martha?” Allison had blurted the question before she could stop herself. Brent’s dark scowl told her that she should have held her tongue.

  “I never had an affair with Martha.”

  “I’m sorry. I meant to say romance,” Allison corrected herself quickly. “Martha told me about it, how her parents found out and made you stop seeing each other. . . .” Her voice trailed away.

  “One thing you should know, Allison. I’ve never let anyone tell me what to do. Not since I was sixteen years old. That includes the Hollingsworths. One of the reasons I’m a lobsterman is because it’s one of the last ways to make a living in America where you can still be your own man.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, unnerved by the vehemence in his tone. Obviously, his anger was generated by more than simple disgust at Martha’s parents. It must have something to do with his relationship with Tracy Lawton. Had she been wealthy? Had she tried to make him change his life? Hadn’t Abel said something about her attempting to get Brent to leave Harper’s Island? She felt a strange spark of curiosity run through her. “I guess you’ve had some bad experiences.”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.” He took a long, slow breath and his face softened. “Maybe I’m overreacting, but I’m afraid I have yet to meet somebody with a lot of money who didn’t have his or her values pretty thoroughly mixed up.”

  She looked away from his penetrating gaze. “I really want to thank you for letting me know about Martha. And for bringing me here,” she said, anxious to change the subject. “If you hadn’t come to the house, I’d be going crazy with worry by now.”

  “No problem.” To her surprise, he grinned. “I told you I’d take you out in my boat. I just didn’t expect it would be a moonlight cruise.”

  She smiled back at him. “It wasn’t as bad as I expected, once I was aboard the Blue Lady.”

  “No,” he agreed softly, “that wasn’t bad at all.”

  Startled, Allison realized that he was referring to their kiss, and her heartbeat quickened as she felt the telltale heat of a blush rise in her cheeks. Quickly she looked away, and felt a distinct sense of relief at the sight of Isabel and Abel coming through a door at the far end of the hall.

  “I guess it’s our turn,” she said brightly, standing up and starting toward them. She knew that Brent’s eyes were still on her as he followed her down the hall. Never before had she been so keenly aware that you could actually feel someone’s eyes. It was as if she were being caressed by a very soft, gentle hand.

  Chapter Six

  Martha was sitting up in bed when Allison entered her hospital room, but she looked pale and shaken. There was a long scratch down her right cheek, and her jaw was dark and swollen.

  Allison embraced her carefully. “How are you feeling?”

  “Sore.” Martha smiled grimly. “I feel like a real jerk.”

  “You ought to,” said Brent from the foot of the bed, where he was examining her chart. “You were driving much too fast.”

  “We’re just glad you’re all right.” Allison patted Martha’s arm, hoping to moderate the impact of Brent’s blunt comment. But Martha didn’t seem to hear her. She was smiling at Brent as if he had just complimented her.

  “You certainly scared the hell out of everybody.” Brent replaced the chart on its hook and came around the bed to stand beside Allison. “When Abel found you, he thought you were dead. What in the world were you doing, chasing around in the middle of the night?”

  Martha’s eyes widened suddenly and she turned to Allison. “Oh, I meant to tell you! Cabot says he’ll come. I was so excited! I guess that’s why I took the corner so fast. I wasn’t thinking about my driving. I was just happy for you and eager to tell you. I knew you’d be thrilled!”

  “Cabot? Allison’s fiancé?” Brent leaned forward, frowning.

  Martha nodded. “He’ll be free in about two weeks. We made all the arrangements over the phone. He’ll bring his files and stay in the guest house, where he can spread out to his heart’s content. Turn it into a real bachelor pad, if he wants.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m just sorry I had to go and get myself busted up like this. But I won’t let it spoil things for the two of you.”

  “Martha, I have to go back to Boston. It isn’t right for me to stay in your parents’ place while you’re not there. And you’ll be going home yourself as soon as you get out of here. Don’t worry.” She shook her head as Martha’s face lengthened. “I’ll call Cabot and explain everything. He’ll understand.”

  “But you can’t!” Martha wailed. “Besides, I don’t want to go home! I’ll heal just as quickly in Maine as I will in Boston. Quicker, even.”

  Allison looked doubtfully at the thick bandages around Martha’s ribs and the bulging cast on her leg. “You’re going to need help, Martha. At least for a while. You won’t be able to manage alone.”

  “That’s right! So you have to stay! Doesn’t she, Brent?”

  “I certainly don’t see how you can go home at a time like this, Allison,” Brent agreed. “When I spoke with Martha’s mother, she was assuming you’d stay.”

  Allison glanced at him; the look in his eyes reminded her again of his kiss. Something knotted in her throat.

  “See, you’re outvoted. And what Mama says, goes. You know that!” Martha reached for her hand. “Please, Allison! You can’t desert me at a time like this! Can she, Brent?”

  “Of course not.” There was gentle amusement in his voice. “Not when you’ve just been seriously injured.”

  Allison sighed. “Oh, all right. But I think we should call Cabot. He might not feel comfortable about coming with you laid up like this.”

  Martha laughed. “By the time he gets here, I’ll be back on my feet. I promise! Even the doctor said I’d be able to get around on crutches in a couple of weeks. So you’re not allowed to call him, Allison. Except for a love chat.”

  Brent shifted his feet. “We’d better go. You both look beat. And I could use a little sleep myself before I go out hauling tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch. “Make that today.”

  His hand brushed Allison’s back in unspoken command that she say good-bye. She felt the heat of his fingers through her dress, sending ripples of electricity over her skin.

  She smiled at Martha. “Brent’s right. You get some rest. I’ll come and see you again as soon as I can. I’ll find out when the ferry runs are—”

  “Don’t worry, Martha,�
�� Brent interrupted her. “I’ll see that she gets here often. She won’t have to wait for the ferry, either. Now say good night.” He reached down and touched her arm.

  Martha smiled. “Is that all I get, a pat on the arm?”

  “That’s right.” Brent grinned back at her. “You’ve been a bad girl.”

  “Come on, Brent, just one little kiss!”

  He shook his head. “I don’t give my kisses away lightly, Martha. You know that.”

  Allison knew from the laughter in his voice that Brent was joking, but as she bent to hug her friend good-bye, she couldn’t escape the memory of his mouth on hers just a few hours earlier. When she straightened and headed to the door, she was still blushing.

  The beauty of the return trip was blurred with fatigue for Allison, but as she watched the smooth indigo sky lighten with dawn, she felt a deep peace settle over her. The Blue Lady rode the water easily, her powerful engine throbbing quietly beneath them. Brent seemed absorbed in his own thoughts; after a while Allison fell into a half sleep, her head rocking gently against the pilothouse wall, a faint smile on her lips.

  It wasn’t until Brent cut the engine and spoke her name that she realized that they had returned to Harper’s Island. The sun was just rising over the green hill beyond the village. She had never seen a more beautiful dawn.

  At Brent’s prompt, Allison climbed gingerly into the painter, holding her breath as if that might prevent the dangerous rocking she dreaded. When Brent clambered in beside her and set the boat swaying, she instinctively clutched his arm.

  He grinned at her. “Still don’t have your sea legs yet, do you?”

  “I’m afraid not.” She shook her head.

  “Well, with all the trips you’ll be making back and forth to the mainland on the Blue Lady in the next few days, I’d be surprised if you’re not as salty as the rest of us by the time Martha gets out of the hospital.”

  “I really don’t want to put you out,” she said. “I’m sure it would be much easier for you if I took the ferry.”