Harbor of the Heart

by Katherine Spencer

  He shook his head. “I had a feeling you’d bring the supernatural into this.” He caught her gaze with his twinkling blue eyes. His tone was not mocking, but warm and amused, and Claire did not take offense. He couldn’t bring himself to say “God,” she noticed, but she got his meaning.

  “Well, even if you can’t forgive her yet, you can at least be kind. It’s cruel to keep her worrying, wondering whether you’re alive or dead. Isn’t there some way you can let her know you didn’t end up at the bottom of the ocean?”

  He shook his head and picked up the bushel of weeds he’d pulled and the basket of gardening tools. “I’m not sure. I have to think about this.” He glanced over at Claire. “You’re not going to get in touch with her on your own now, are you?”

  That option had not occurred to Claire, though all the information she needed was there, at the bottom of the article. She could tell Nolan’s daughter where he was if she wanted to.

  “I’m not sure . . . I have to think about it,” she replied, echoing his words. “I might call the paper to see how large that reward is.”

  He looked surprised at her sassy comeback, then amused again. “Claire North, I’m learning to never underestimate you. You are the very definition of the phrase ‘still waters run deep.’ Did you know that?”

  Claire shrugged. “I’m not sure what you mean by that. But I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  She turned and headed to the house. Edison had been sunning himself on the lawn nearby and suddenly jumped up. He looked from Nolan to Claire, then back at his master. Then he decided to follow Claire, after all. Claire knew the dog probably wanted some cold water after helping in the garden all morning. She often put ice cubes in his dish on a hot day like this. Nolan, who had watched the dog’s decision-making process, stood dumbfounded, then, with an exasperated sigh, headed for the barn.

  Claire filled Edison’s bowl, plunked a few ice cubes in, and set it on the kitchen floor. The dog lapped noisily while Claire thought about Nolan. He was a proud man who had a knack for holding a grudge. But this was more than that, she sensed. Fiona had hurt him; he had taken his daughter’s hurtful words to heart. He must feel he had to prove Fiona wrong before he got in touch again. He had to show his only child that he wasn’t a failure or “an old windbag.” But how did he think he was going to do that?

  With a successful conclusion to his lawsuit? Perhaps. Maybe that’s why this legal decision meant so much to him. Claire paused a moment, surprised at that insight. Winning back his daughter’s respect could very well be at the bottom of his drive to be vindicated by the lawsuit. It had not only cost him his business and home, his marriage, and his self-respect . . . but the love of his only child.

  If Nolan finally found justice, he could show everyone—Fiona most of all—and return home in glory. While Claire could understand why he felt this way, it was really very sad that he didn’t believe he had true worth in his daughter’s eyes—or the world’s—without this material symbol.

  Claire knew she would never get in touch with Fiona Porter behind Nolan’s back. But she wondered now if she and Liza were doing him a favor by letting him hide out at the inn. That’s what it looked like to her now. Still, what good would it do to meddle? It wasn’t her place to decide who knew Nolan’s whereabouts and who didn’t. It was only Nolan’s business.

  Claire was sorry she and Nolan had had words, but she had to be honest. Wasn’t he that way himself?

  * * *

  NOLAN was very brusque with her for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. Usually so loquacious, he confined his communication to monosyllables, or ignored her entirely, even avoiding eye contact if he walked into a room where she happened to be working.

  All right, act like I’m invisible. Nothing I can do about that, Claire said to herself. Though his cool attitude did sting, more than a little.

  Just before dinner, as she bustled to put finishing touches on the meal, Nolan came through the back door carrying a bushel of freshly picked strawberries. He set them on the table, but she didn’t turn from the stove or pay him any special notice.

  “I should have picked these this morning,” he said finally. “Guess I rushed off after our . . . conversation.”

  Claire finally looked at the offering. He had thought to rinse the berries outside, she noticed, which was a help to her. “Thank you, Nolan. I’ll serve them at breakfast tomorrow.”

  He stood by the back door, watching her store the berries in the refrigerator and return to the stove. She could tell he had something more to say. She turned down a burner under the chowder pot and looked over at him.

  “I want you to know I’ve considered your advice, Claire. And perhaps you’re right. There’s no need for Fiona to worry. I’ll send a message through my attorney to let her know I’m alive and kicking . . . But I’m still not ready to see her.”

  Claire thought the solution was a step in the right direction. “I’m sure she’ll be relieved to know you’re all right. That’s a good idea.”

  “It just came to me. Seems a good compromise . . . I’m sorry we had words. I do value your friendship and your opinion. Even when we disagree,” he added.

  Claire was touched by his apology and his compliment. “I’m sorry for my sharp words, too,” she admitted. “Please forgive me for meddling. It wasn’t any of my business.”

  He smiled at her warmly, looking pleased and relieved that they had made amends. “Well, maybe not. But since I lied to you about having a daughter, you had a perfect right to call me out,” he admitted frankly. “I guess you’ll miss out on that reward now.”

  “I guess I will. But I think it’s worked out even better.” For Nolan and his daughter—and for herself and Nolan, too. They had managed to navigate this rough patch and come out with an even closer bond. That was a fine reward right there.

  She reached into her apron pocket and handed him the article, folded into a neat square. “You can have this now. You might need the information on the bottom,” she added quietly.

  He knew what she meant: Fiona’s phone number and e-mail address. He opened up the page and gazed at his daughter’s picture again. A soft look came over his expression. Claire could see he truly missed her.

  “She’s a lovely girl. Looks like you,” Claire said, stirring the soup.

  “You think so? I think she looks like her mother. More and more all the time . . .” He cleared his throat, folded the paper, and put it in his shirt pocket. “Do you need my help serving dinner tonight?”

  Nolan only served if there was a full house, as Liza worried about what he might say to the guests. Comments like “What’s the matter, didn’t you like the fish? Claire worked very hard on that dish. I thought it was excellent.” Or “For goodness’ sake, what do you have in these suitcases, bowling balls?”

  Nolan seemed to have had better control over his blunt speech the last week or so, Claire had noticed. Maybe that book she loaned him had helped.

  “An extra pair of hands and feet will make things go much faster,” she now told him. She glanced at the clock. “We plan to serve in about half an hour. So come back soon.”

  “I’ll go clean up right now, then. See you shortly.” Nolan left, with Edison padding right behind him.

  Alone in the kitchen again, Claire sent up a quiet prayer. Thank You, God, for helping Nolan find that compromise, and for putting a loving thought in his head and heart. I pray that he and his daughter are able to forgive each other and make up very soon . . . And thank You for helping us solve our differences and grow even closer in our friendship.

  The last part of the prayer was important to her, Claire realized. More important than she would ever admit.

  Chapter Eight

  THEY had only been apart for two weeks, but to Liza the separation from Daniel had seemed much longer. She was glad, though, that he wouldn’t get back to the inn until about eight
that night. That gave her plenty of time to do what she had to do—help Claire serve dinner and clean up.

  Once the guests had scattered for their evening amusements, she ran upstairs to change. The menu had been steamed lobster, and as much as Daniel loved the dish, she didn’t want to smell like one.

  She was soon ready and came down to the porch to wait, wearing a new sundress she had bought online. She had been relieved when it was delivered, just in time, that morning. She had fixed her hair long and loose, though it was a nuisance in the humid weather, curling in all directions; but Daniel liked the long, wild curls.

  Liza made herself comfortable in a wicker chair with a magazine and her cell phone. It was a Friday night and you never knew how long the trip from Boston could take with weekend traffic. He could be delayed heading up to the North Shore.

  Claire came to the screen door and stepped out on the porch. “I left everything ready for Daniel’s dinner. The lobsters are awaiting their dubious fate in the fridge. You just need to pop them in the pot.”

  “Lobsters, as in more than one?”

  Claire averted her gaze. “I saved him two. They were very small. But sweet,” she added.

  “You spoil him beyond belief. But I’m sure they won’t go to waste. Daniel will be starving. He might even eat the poor things as sushi.”

  “There’s plenty of chowder to start. That should slow him down.”

  Sometimes Liza wasn’t sure if Claire was being super literal or just had a very dry sense of humor. A little of both, she suspected.

  “What a beautiful night,” Claire observed, looking out at the darkening sky. “We’re lucky to have such clear weather. I hear there are going to be some meteor showers passing by.”

  “Yes, there are. But they won’t pass until much later. We’re going to try to watch them from the beach.”

  “Should be good viewing from down there. No surface lights to distract you. I hope you see some shooting stars. Don’t forget to make a wish.”

  Liza met her gaze and smiled. She certainly had a lot of wishes these days. First of all, for Daniel to pass his tests and find a good position practicing medicine, and second . . . well, just for them to stay together and always be happy. If she had to be perfectly honest about the last few weeks, she had not liked their separation at all. It wasn’t just the distance; it was also his attention. Even when they were sitting side by side, Daniel’s nose was usually buried in some thick textbook; he might as well have been back in Boston. Or on the moon.

  Liza told herself that this was just the exam stage, the studying and cramming for these tests. She reminded herself that she was lucky they hadn’t met when he was in medical school; then she might have had years like this. It was only a few weeks. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a little worried. She could see that once Daniel was a doctor, their relationship would be very different than it was when he worked as a carpenter, being his own boss and making his own hours. Once he was practicing medicine again, she would have to get used to seeing him less. She was starting to understand that now.

  Unless, of course, they got married. But even then, it might not be all that much better. And they’d never even discussed marriage. Liza had been married once, and it hadn’t worked out. She knew marriage was a very serious step; one she had taken too lightly the first time. She had always promised herself she would think very carefully before taking that step again. Even with Daniel.

  And yet, though she was in no rush to get a ring on her finger, she knew that she loved him with all her heart and wanted to share his life. What she wasn’t certain of was whether he felt the same way.

  Liza heard the truck coming up the drive before she saw it. She stood up and walked down the steps. Daniel pulled up next to the inn and jumped out. Then he put his arms around her and hugged her tight, burying his face in her hair and lifting her feet off the ground. “I missed you so much.”

  Before Liza had a chance to answer, he kissed her, a long, deep kiss that made her feel dizzy. But dizzy in a good way, she decided as he finally set her down. Definitely a good way.

  She stroked his hair with her hand and smiled into his eyes.

  “You don’t look any different. Just a little tired.”

  “And hungry,” he added. He slipped his arm around her waist as they walked back to the inn. “What’s for dinner? Did you save me anything?”

  “Well, we all had chowder, lobster, corn, coleslaw, and corn bread . . . I saved you a bit of the chowder and some bread. Is that okay?”

  “I just had a double cheeseburger and fries on the road. I was just wondering.”

  Liza stopped and stared at him. “You didn’t—”

  Daniel laughed. “Had you going there for a minute, didn’t I?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “If you must know, Claire saved you two lobsters. She said they were very small.”

  “Claire . . .” He sighed. “My ideal woman, second only to you, of course, sweetheart.”

  Liza smiled. “Sometimes I wonder about that.”

  In the kitchen, Liza turned the heat back on under the lobster pot. The water was hot already and wouldn’t take long to boil. Claire had put a mixture of herbs and special spices that she called her “fish boil” in the water, and the fragrance already wafted into the warm kitchen. Daniel took a beer from the refrigerator and sat at the table while Liza brought out the side dishes.

  “I hated staying in the city last weekend, but it was worth it. I aced my practice test . . . Well, it was more of a midterm, really. It only covered half the course, but it was encouraging.”

  “That’s great, honey. You’ve hit the halfway point. It’s a downhill slide from here, right?”

  “Actually, the tougher subjects are in the second half,” he reported, though he was still smiling. “So it’s more of an uphill slide . . . if that’s even possible. Let’s just say I’m slogging through it, one multiple choice question at a time.”

  Liza sat down beside him at the table and watched him devour both lobsters and all the trimmings, including a thick slab of rustic peach tart that Claire had baked earlier in the day. Claire had put the dessert on the menu quite often lately, claiming it was an exceptional summer for peaches. But Liza guessed the frequent choice had to do with Nolan, since the dish was his obvious favorite.

  Daniel seemed to like it equally well and asked for seconds.

  How did he stay so lean and fit-looking? That was the question. And so annoying.

  “That was delicious, every bite. Come here. I want to thank the chef . . .” He pulled Liza down onto his lap and kissed her shoulders and neck.

  “I’m not exactly the chef . . . but I don’t mind standing in,” she admitted, kissing him back.

  He held her tight and sighed. “I need a walk or I’ll fall asleep right here. Want to go down to the beach? Or are you too tired?”

  “Not tired at all. I was hoping we could watch the meteor shower. It’s almost time,” she realized, glancing up at the clock.

  “Oh, right. I forgot all about that. It’s a clear night. We might see something.”

  Liza grabbed a beach blanket and a flashlight off the porch and they headed outside, where they crossed the road and carefully descended the wooden stairs.

  The beach was very dark, but Liza’s eyes soon adjusted. A thin crescent moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silvery light on the ink-black water. Just the right amount of moon, Liza thought. A full moon would make it hard to see the shooting stars.

  She thought they would see a few people on the beach tonight, waiting for the celestial show. But the best viewing was on the other side of the island.

  Nolan, who knew about such things, had told the guests that fact during dinner. He also told them the shooting stars were not really stars, but bits of a passing meteor, which was like a small planet zipping through space very close to the Ea
rth. These chunks of rock had broken off from the meteor, then fell through the Earth’s atmosphere and burned up; that was the light of the shooting star. The explanation pretty much drained the magic out of it, Liza thought, but she still loved to watch the amazing sight.

  She gazed down along the shoreline but didn’t see a soul in either direction, so perhaps the guests had taken Nolan’s advice. She was glad she and Daniel had the entire beach to themselves. It certainly seemed more romantic that way.

  They walked hand in hand, in time with the muffled roar of the waves. A short distance from the stairs, Daniel put down the blanket in a spot near a large piece of driftwood, which they used as a backrest.

  “Isn’t this comfortable? Like sitting in your front parlor. We should have made a bonfire,” he said.

  “That would have been fun, but you can see the stars better if there’s less light, right?”

  “That’s right.” He nodded and slipped his arm around her shoulder. “How was your week?”

  “Oh, the usual. Some nice guests, some difficult ones. We’re almost full up this weekend, but everything is going smoothly.”

  “You have it down to a science now, you and Claire. You could run this place with your eyes closed.”

  “Not exactly, but we’re a good team. And you can’t forget Nolan.” Liza turned to Daniel and grinned. “He’s come up with another invention. For sanding his boat. It looks like a huge mitten . . . or a potholder. I think he borrowed one of Claire’s hot mitts to make it.”

  “Can’t wait to see that one. Sounds like something I could use when I’m doing carpentry . . .” His voice trailed off with an odd questioning tone.

  Liza understood. “Well, you’ll probably always do some woodworking. As a hobby, right?”

  Daniel took her hand and kissed it. “Our future suddenly looks very different. That’s pretty exciting, don’t you think?”