"K.C. stopped to talk to me," she said, taking advantage of his presence. He might as well be good for something.
"I'm going home," Caroline muttered. "Don't follow me. I'm not in the mood for you or one of your lectures."
Kate let Caroline go, because it was obvious this wasn't the time or the place. At least Caroline was going alone. That was worth something. She turned back to K.C. "You will never get my portrait."
"Who's going to stop me?"
Kate wanted to slap the sneering smile off his face and say she would stop him. But she couldn't quite get the words out of her mouth. That would mean agreeing to join forces with her father and racing again. How could she do that?
"No one will stop me, Katie. You've left your father on his own this time. And we both know he can't do it without you. He never could."
* * *
Tyler flipped off the television set in his hotel room and realized he couldn't put off calling his brother for another minute. He should have called yesterday, but he'd felt so conflicted after spending the evening with Kate that he just hadn't had the heart to call Mark. He felt like a wishbone, being pulled in two directions, and it seemed like he was betraying both of them. There was no way they could all win. In the end, someone would be terribly hurt.
Picking up his cell phone, he punched in Mark's number and waited.
"Hello?" A childish voice greeted him.
"Hi, honey. It's Uncle Ty."
"Hi, Uncle Ty."
"How are you, sweetie?"
"I'm fine. Daddy needed some water, so I got it for him. I even put ice in it."
"You're a good helper. But I thought that was Shelly's job."
"She had to go out for a little while. She's not back yet."
"Not back yet?" Tyler wondered where Shelly had gone. Mark was supposed to have twenty-four hour care at all times, especially with Amelia in the house.
"Do you want to talk to Daddy? I think he might be asleep, but I can check."
Tyler felt even more uneasy at the idea of Amelia being in the house with Mark asleep and no Shelly nearby. Amelia was only eight years old, although at the moment she sounded closer to twenty. For the first time, Tyler wondered if he was doing the right thing. Mark would have a long road back to recovery, a road that would require care, money and time. Would Amelia be shortchanged growing up in such a way?
"Are you okay there by yourself?" he asked her.
"I'm not by myself. Daddy's here. He'll wake up if I need him."
"What if you fall or something?"
"Then I'll get up," she told him with simple childish logic.
He couldn't help smiling at her practicality. "I guess you will."
"Daddy and I wrote Mommy a letter, and we put it on the dining room table so she could see it when she's looking down on us. I printed in really big letters, too, so she could read it from heaven."
Tyler's stomach clenched at her words. "That sounds nice."
"Do you want to hear what I wrote?"
Did he want to have his heart ripped out of his chest? "Sure," he said, knowing that was the answer Amelia wanted.
"I'll get it."
Tyler heard her set down the phone and wished he could call her back. He was torturing himself—punishing himself for getting carried away with Kate yesterday, for letting Mark down, even if only in thought, not in action.
"Are you there?" Amelia asked when she returned to the phone.
"I'm here."
"Dear Mommy, we miss you a lot," she read. "We hope you're happy in heaven, but we wish you were here. I sang your song last night to Daddy, and he said I must take after you, because he sings really bad. I'm going to try to be just like you when I grow up."
Tyler's heart twisted with emotion at her simple statement, and he couldn't help wondering for the thousandth time why Mark and Susan hadn't told Amelia she was adopted, maybe not the who, why, where, or whatever, but enough so that Amelia wouldn't be shocked to find out one day that she was not who she thought she was.
"I'm talking to Uncle Ty," Amelia yelled, probably to her father. "Daddy wants to talk to you," she said. "Bye."
"Bye, honey."
"Ty? What's up?" his brother said a moment later. "Why didn't you call me back yesterday? I left you three messages."
"I didn't have anything new to report."
"Well, maybe I had news," Mark snapped. "George got another letter from the investigator, Mr. Watson. He found the doctor in Hawaii who delivered Amelia. He has a signed letter stating that the doctor turned the baby over to George on the exact same date of our adoption. He's getting closer, Tyler. The doctor even has my name listed as the adoptive parent. But there's no signed release by the birth mother or father. George assured me he had one, but he can't seem to find it."
"He never had it, Mark, you know that," Tyler said forcefully. "That's why he charged you so much money for the adoption. That's why he told you to leave Hawaii immediately. And you did it, because you didn't want to ask any more questions."
"Yes, I did it. For Susan," Mark replied. "I loved her so much. I don't know if you can understand that. She was everything to me, and after all those miscarriages, I couldn't stand to see her in any more pain. I'd do it again, if I had to make the choice. I don't care if the birth mother signed the paper or not, she still gave her baby away."
"Or her father did," Tyler said. But did that make sense? Wouldn't one of the girls hate Duncan if he'd stolen her baby and given it away? No one reacted that way to him, except possibly Ashley, who seemed to be the most distant from her father.
"I'm thinking about leaving town," Mark said, ignoring his comment. "Taking Amelia and disappearing forever."
"You can't do that, Mark. You need medical care. You're rehabilitating. How can you go into hiding? You need a full-time nurse."
"You could help. You're not getting anywhere in Castleton. Why don't you come back here and help me and Amelia disappear?"
Like he and his father had disappeared? Always on the run. No chance to make friends, to feel a part of something, belong somewhere. Did he want that for his niece?
"It's my best chance," Mark added. "It's a big world. We couldn't find you for six years. I don't think it will take that long for Amelia's biological mother to give up."
"It's a terrible life. I don't want it for you, and I sure as hell don't want it for Amelia."
"It's better than giving her up. She's my life. She's all I have left."
"But you don't want to ruin her life."
"I'm not doing that. I'm trying to save us."
"You sound just like Dad." How many times had his father said, I'm trying to save you, Tyler. Save you from a life of pain, living in a home where no one wants you. But his father had been trying to save himself, not his child. Just as Mark was doing now.
"Don't ever compare me to him," Mark said coldly. "And I'll do this with or without your help. I thought you could find something out, but obviously you can't. I'll make other arrangements."
"Don't do anything yet," Tyler said, knowing he was well and truly caught. He couldn't let Mark go off half-cocked. He didn't want to lose contact with his brother again. "Give me more time. I'll find out who it is before Saturday. And we'll make a decision then."
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone.
"I'll think about it, Tyler. But make no mistake—I'll do what I have to do. If they get too close, I'll be gone."
Chapter Seventeen
Kate debated what to do next. Torn between anger at her father for betting their portrait and concern for Caroline, Kate wasn't sure which way to go. In the end, she decided to go after her father. It would be smarter to track down Duncan before he went out on the practice run or drank too much to make any sense. She could not allow him to bet their portrait. It was the only picture she had of her mother and her sisters all together. And she wasn't about to let K.C. win it and hang it on his wall, as if they were his family. It was sick.
When Kate
arrived at her father's slip on the other side of the marina, she found him on deck talking to Rick Beardsley, the man who had hired him to skipper the Summer Seas in Saturday's race. She'd met Rick a few times over the years. In his early fifties, he was younger than Duncan but close enough in age to remember Duncan at his best. Which must be why Rick had decided to give Duncan another shot at racing glory.
She paused for a moment, watching the two men talk. Her father had on his usual sailing cap, but what really disturbed her was the bright orange-red T-shirt he had on. He'd always claimed it was his lucky shirt, that it reminded him of the color of her mother's hair. She also didn't care for the way he was waving his hands, punctuating each word with obvious vigor. She hadn't seen him look so energized, vital and completely in charge in years.
Was she wrong? Was this what he needed? Was this what they all needed?
"Katie," Duncan called out with a cheerful wave when he spotted her. "Come on up. Say hello to Rick."
She climbed aboard. "Good morning."
"Nice to see you again, Kate. I can't wait to show you my boat this afternoon," Rick said.
"The practice run, you remember," Duncan said quickly, a plea in his eye.
Kate was torn once again between family loyalty and honesty. As usual, the two didn't seem to go together.
"Right," she said, hoping it was a neutral enough word to satisfy both of them.
"I'll see you then," Rick said. "Remember what we discussed," he added to Duncan. "I'd like to see Caroline and Ashley onboard as well."
Duncan nodded. Kate stood motionless and silent until Rick stepped off the boat and was halfway down the dock.
"He thinks I'm racing with you. He thinks we're all racing with you," Kate said slowly, realizing that her father had misled Rick.
"It's a possibility."
"It is not a possibility."
"Katie, I want you with me. You're my daughter. This is a family matter. We're not just racing to race, but to take back what's ours. You must help me."
Her stomach knotted with guilt. He always did know how to push her buttons. "What did you tell Rick?" she asked, trying not to weaken. Someone had to make the tough decisions. Someone had to be logical, practical and unemotional. And that someone had always been her. She was tired of trying to keep things from sinking or drifting away, but, if she didn't do it, who would?
"I told him I'm building a solid crew, one that will win, and that my daughters always support me.”
"You don't always deserve that support."
"We all make mistakes. But we don't turn our backs on one another. And there's a lot at stake."
"I know exactly what's at stake. I ran into K.C. a few minutes ago. He told me you bet our portrait on the race. I said that couldn't possibly be true. You know how much that portrait means to us."
Duncan shrugged. "Don't get all bent out of shape. I'm not going to lose."
"You always say that."
"And I haven't lost yet, not to K.C."
That was true. But they both knew there were things they weren't saying. "What if this is the first time? How could you live with the idea of K.C. putting that portrait up as if we were his family?"
"It's what he wanted to wager against the Moon Dancer. I had no other choice."
"You had a lot of choices, including not making a bet at all.”
"He won't beat me, Katie. You're worrying for nothing."
"I won't give up that portrait. It's mine." The portrait had hung on her wall for the last eight years, and before that it had hung in the main cabin of the Moon Dancer. It had gone around the world with them, and it was one of the few things they'd taken off the boat before they'd sold it.
"Then sail with me, Katie. You were always the best of the girls. If you sail with me, we won't lose." His voice grew more energized with each word, the passion of his quest clearly visible in his eyes. "Don't you want to feel the wind in your hair, at your back, driving you toward the finish line? Don't you want to hear your heart pounding? Don't you want to feel alive again?"
It was the talk of an addict, an adrenaline junkie. Hearing the need in his voice awakened memories from long ago. Kate could almost hear the wind, feel the spray in her face, see the other competitors in front of her, behind her, and beside her as they raced for the finish line, willing to win, no matter the cost. She was shocked at how easily it came back to her, that thirst for victory, as if it had been biding its time, hiding beneath the surface, until she couldn't hold it back anymore.
"I can see it in your eyes, Katie. You want it as much as I do."
"I don't."
"Say yes," Duncan urged. "Help me right this wrong. K.C. shouldn't have our boat. Your mother would hate knowing he was sailing it."
"Would she?" Kate had to ask. There had been too many secrets between them for too long. Perhaps if she understood this one piece, the others would make more sense.
"Of course she would hate it," Duncan said fiercely. "She was a McKenna. She was proud of that boat, proud of us."
There were so few things about her father that Kate was certain of, but his love for her mother had never been in question. Would she hurt him if she spoke the words running through her brain? He'd hurt her many times, her conscience argued. But this could go deep. Would her mother want her to speak?
"K.C. told me that Mom loved him first," she said, taking a deep breath. "He claims that she slept with him, that he actually thought I was his child for most of my childhood. Did you know about that?"
Duncan's eyes turned cold and hard. "Nora never loved K.C. He lived in a fool's paradise, and he's still there, thinking he can take over my life, my boat, my family."
"That's what this is all about," she said, finally understanding the elusive missing piece of Duncan's ambitious drive and his intense, fierce rivalry with K.C. It had never been about the sailing, not really. It wasn't who was the better sailor; it was who was the better man. "K.C. couldn't accept that Mom loved you," she continued. "For a long time he convinced himself that they had a special secret: me, the daughter no one but the two of them knew about. When he realized that it wasn't true, the pretense at friendship was over."
"I won't let him take over my life, Katie. Your mother chose me." Duncan brought his hand to his chest. "Me. I was the one for her. But, even after we married, K.C. was always around. Nora said, 'Let him be, Duncan. He's lonely. He needs friends.'" Duncan's voice took on a bitter edge. "She had no idea he was trying to destroy me every chance he got."
"How did he do that?"
"He'd sabotage my boat before races or he'd bribe someone to race for him instead of for me. He'd drop hints that I was with some broad when I said I was working, just to make your mother doubt me. I didn't see it at first. I thought they were innocent remarks, but he was playing a game all along. He brought you and the other girls presents when I couldn't afford to give you what you wanted so he could be the big man." Duncan looked her straight in the eye. "He bought that damn portrait, Katie."
"What?" she asked in surprise. "But Mom got it for you, for your birthday."
"He paid for it. Said he wanted to share in the birthday present. He knew I couldn't afford it. So he arranged for you all to have it done while I was away on a fishing charter."
Her heart sank. The portrait was paid for by K.C.? Kate would never be able to look at it in the same way. And her mother had let K.C. do it. Why? Hadn't she realized that the man was still in love with her?
"Why didn't Mom tell him to go?" Kate asked. "Did she know he thought he was my father?"
"She was too softhearted. That's why she let him stay."
"I don't believe it was just that." Perhaps her mother had still felt some love for K.C., some unwillingness to completely break the tie.
"She told him a bunch of times that you weren't his kid, but it wasn't until she was on her deathbed that he finally believed her."
It made sense. Because he'd never been on their side after that.
"That was i
t for him," Duncan added. "He'd thought he'd have something of Nora after she died, but he wouldn't. You weren't his. You were mine. It broke him. That's why he went after us during the race. He was always in our faces, always trying to bend the rules."
K.C. or her father? Kate asked herself. Sometimes she didn't know who had bent the rules more. It was hard to remember.
"I'm not lying about this, Katie."
She wanted to believe him. But as she'd told Tyler earlier, Duncan had a way of making everyone believe his lies, including himself.
"We can't let him win, Katie." Duncan's voice once again held desperation. "This is probably our last chance. If he even lets us have this chance."
"What does that mean?" She stared at her father in dismay. "What else aren't you telling me?"
"There's a slim chance K.C. knows something."
"About the storm?"
"He's made some comments. I don't know if he's fishing, or if he remembers. I want to race him, Katie. I want you and your sisters to help me. Our family will take back what's ours, making damn sure that K.C. doesn't end up with anything McKenna. Your mother would have wanted it this way. She wanted you to help me keep the family together. Didn't you promise her just that?"
Kate wanted to tell him to go to hell. That it wasn't fair to put this on her. But, on the other hand, she really hated the idea of K.C. sailing their boat. And she hated the thought of him winning their portrait even more.
Now that she realized there had been something between K.C. and her mother, it made all of his other actions—the presents, the friendly pretense—that much more sickening. He'd had a hidden agenda the whole time he was acting like a family friend. He'd waited for Duncan to screw up, maybe even tried to help that along, so he could steal Nora back.
Still, race again? It was an impossible thought. She couldn't go back on the water. She couldn't face the other sailors, the boats, the crowds, the wind. She couldn't put herself out like that, couldn't expose herself to that world again. She knew what men could do in the heat of a race. She knew what she could do.
Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1 Page 23
