The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound Book 1)

by Jamie Beck

  Steffi slowly rubbed her fingers back and forth across her breastbone. Each second awaiting Molly’s decision its own eternity.

  “Okay, let’s do it. Hopefully Ryan can jump on it by the time it’s completed. If not, I’ll get my money back with interest, so that’s something. But remember, he can’t know that we’re scheming.”

  Steffi stared at her phone. “We’re not scheming.”

  “Oh yes, we are, dear,” Molly chuckled. “In more ways than one.”

  Before Steffi could ask what she meant, Molly said, “I’ve got to run. We’ll talk tomorrow at the house.”

  Steffi set the phone aside and sat back in her chair, now certain that Molly had been conniving since the very beginning.

  Her grin stretched from ear to ear. Steffi would repay the loan, but she would never be able to repay Molly for the chance to repair her relationship with Ryan. They were friends again, like they’d been as young kids. As long as Ryan didn’t run back to Val to satisfy Emmy, Steffi might even have a chance at more than friendship.

  They were different people now. Older. Wiser. More appreciative of what really mattered in life. If she could convince him to believe in her and “them” again, she knew it could be even better than before.

  Steffi’s stomach growled while she finished shingling an exterior wall of the Quinns’ new room. She stretched her arms overhead with a yawn, then twisted from side to side to loosen the knot in her back. When Emmy emerged from the house with a bag of sourdough pretzel bites, Steffi snatched a few for herself.

  “We’re going sailing on Sunday.” Emmy gnawed the salt off her pretzel before crunching into it.

  Steffi nodded while swallowing. “I can’t wait!”

  “My dad forced me to invite Lisa Crawford.” Emmy displayed a talent for speaking clearly with food in her mouth, although dry crumbs sprinkled from it like a fountain.

  Steffi tried to recall anyone in town named Crawford but couldn’t. The Crawfords must be a newer family, which meant Lisa had something in common with Emmy. “Who’s Lisa?”

  “A girl in my class.” Emmy picked through the bag, selecting another pretzel with lots of salt.

  “I figured that much.” Steffi grinned. “But do you like her? Is she fun?”

  Emmy brushed crumbs from her dress. “I guess.”

  “Is she nice?”

  “I dunno.” Emmy shrugged.

  Steffi grabbed one last pretzel for herself. “Looks like we’ll find out together, then.”

  “I told Memaw I want to bake chocolate chip cookies to take on the boat, but she says they can’t have nuts if Lisa has allergies. Do you like nuts?”

  “I do. Check with Lisa, though. Hopefully she’s not allergic.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah.”

  Steffi crouched to Emmy’s height. “You’re not shy, so help me understand why you’re not interested in making a new friend.”

  Emmy eyed Steffi while scrunching her nose and mouth, debating what to share. “If my parents get back together, we’ll move home, and I won’t need new friends. Even if they don’t, we won’t live with Memaw forever, so I’ll still be moving again.”

  The thought of Ryan back with Val slithered down Steffi’s spine like a snake, but she focused on Emmy’s logic. It wouldn’t be half-bad if the kid had her facts straight. Frankly, Steffi might’ve reacted the same way at nine.

  “I’m pretty sure your dad plans to stay in town whenever you move out of your memaw’s house.” Steffi gestured for Emmy to follow her inside because she had to find Molly before she left. “He and I had fun growing up here. If you give it a chance, I bet you will, too.”

  “I guess.” Emmy hugged the bag of pretzels to her chest.

  “I know.” Steffi playfully tugged at Emmy’s curls. “Now, the important issue is convincing your memaw to make two batches of cookies so we don’t run out.”

  Emmy giggled as Steffi opened the kitchen door.

  “You two sound happy.” Molly stirred the contents of the Crock-Pot and returned its lid.

  Steffi’s stomach growled again at the first whiff of beef, herbs, and a hint of red wine. Ryan would miss having a daily chef on hand whenever he did move out.

  Steffi’s mom had stopped cooking when she got sick. Then Steffi did most of the cooking . . . if you could call grilled cheese and canned tomato soup “cooking.” “We were conspiring to get you to make extra cookies for Sunday.”

  “Were you?” Molly’s gaze fell to the bag of pretzels, and then she frowned. “Pretzels before dinner, Emmy?”

  “I’m hungry,” Emmy whined. “And I hate stew.”

  “I worked hard on this meal.” Molly untied her apron and hung it on its hook.

  Emmy raised her shoulders and held them there for a few seconds. “Doesn’t make me like it more.”

  “You could still be appreciative.” Molly crossed her arms.

  “Sorry.” Emmy didn’t look very sorry, though. She raised her chin, asking, “Can I make a peanut butter sandwich instead?”

  She was a pistol, this one.

  Molly sighed. “Put those pretzels away. It’s up to your father what you eat for dinner.”

  “Is he home?” Emmy asked.

  “I think he’s upstairs changing,” Molly replied, at which point Steffi’s insides lit up like a Fourth of July sky.

  While Emmy tromped to the pantry to return the pretzel bag to its shelf, Steffi turned away, pretending to be studying something in the new family room while she closed her eyes and willed her jitters into submission.

  “Bye!” Emmy called before skipping out of the kitchen.

  Once she was out of sight, Molly muttered from one corner of her mouth, “I have a check for you.”

  She opened her purse and pulled out a checkbook.

  “We should wait until the closing.” Steffi grasped Molly’s hand and squeezed it. “But thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me. Or how much I hope our plans work out for Ryan.”

  “I have some idea.” Molly smiled, then tossed her checkbook into her purse.

  Steffi looked her dead in the eye. “I swear, no matter what happens, I will pay you back.”

  Mick surprised them both with a rare appearance, greeting Steffi with a sharp nod. “Steffi.” He wandered to the counter and lifted the lid off the stew, giving Molly a quick wink. “Smells good, babe.”

  “Scoot.” She shooed him away, but not before Steffi noticed the pleased gleam in her eye. “I’ll call you all when it’s time, but you’re interrupting girl talk.”

  He raised his hands in surrender and left the kitchen without another word, reminding Steffi of her own dad. Always around, but not really present.

  Her father watched football games, made jokes, and paid the bills. But the truth was, they’d never really known each other that well. He hadn’t known why going to Barcelona had been so important to her. Had no clue her favorite kind of dessert was flan, or that she’d always wanted to take a family road trip to Yosemite. Would never understand that she wanted him to look at her just once like she was the apple of his eye. And he’d never know that she’d felt sorry for him almost every day since her mom died.

  The same could be said of her and her brothers. Even her closeness with Benny had sprung more from hanging around and doing things together than from any heart-to-hearts.

  The Lilac Lane League had been her only exposure to the kind of openness that normal people enjoyed. When thinking about why she’d held back with Ryan, she could only conclude that he was a guy, like her dad and brothers, so she’d related to him in much that same way. For the first time, it occurred to her that he might’ve wanted more from her. If so, could she ever give it to him?

  Once Molly was sure Mick couldn’t hear, she said, “I know you’ll pay me back. Now, if only I had the power to settle Ryan’s situation in time to buy the house.”

  Molly’s manipulations proved she didn’t share Emmy’s wish for Ryan to reconcile with Val.

 
“I’ll give him the first option to buy it before I list it.” She patted Molly’s shoulder. “I’d love to see him and Emmy in that house.”

  Ryan entered the kitchen to get a beer from the refrigerator as she finished talking. Note to self—avoid private conversations with Molly in the kitchen around dinnertime.

  Although the sight of Ryan lifted her spirits, she noticed circles beneath his eyes.

  He hesitated, then flashed a tight smile. “Were you two talking about Emmy and me?”

  “How was your day?” his mother asked.

  “Don’t change the subject.” He glanced from his mom to Steffi. “What house?”

  Steffi exchanged a silent message with Molly, then fessed up part of their plan. “Gretta agreed to sell me the Weber cottage to rehab and flip. I was just musing that it’d be awesome if, by the time I’m done, you could buy it.” Steffi watched his expression change, his beer suspended in midair.

  “You’re going for it?” His voice pitched upward.

  “I am.”

  “Good for you.” A wide grin appeared beneath those tired eyes. “It’s nice when dreams come true.”

  Hallelujah, she’d finally turned him back toward optimism.

  “Or part of a dream, anyway.” Steffi felt a flush rising to her cheeks because Ryan knew what she meant, and from the look on Molly’s face, she did, too.

  “Excuse me, you two. I have yet another load of laundry to fold.” Molly rubbed her son’s back and left them alone in the kitchen. Steffi had no doubt the laundry could’ve waited.

  She cleared her throat, fumbling for conversation. “I hear there’s another little girl coming with us on Sunday.”

  “I took your advice and meddled.” He swigged some beer. “Now if I could get Emmy to be excited about that . . .”

  Steffi recalled her conversation with Emmy. “She’s afraid to make friends because she doesn’t want to say goodbye again.”

  He lowered his beer to his side, frowning. “Why do you think that?”

  “Something she said.”

  “Well, that sucks, but at least it’s something we can fix.” He leaned against the counter. “I was starting to worry that she was depressed.”

  Had he noticed he’d said “we” instead of “I”? And did “we” mean Ryan’s family, or did he mean to include Steffi, too? “Before you get too concerned about depression, let’s see what Sunday brings.”

  “I’m counting on it changing everything.” He sighed and swigged the rest of his beer.

  Steffi nodded in sympathy. Me too, Ryan. For all of us.

  As soon as Ryan pulled into the marina parking lot, he spotted Steffi’s van. Like an old movie, countless memories of summer evenings spent together on his boat unspooled. For horny teens discovering sex, his boat had provided the perfect cover—a place where they could be alone for hours, their bodies rocking together in time with the water. Even now, his libido responded with Pavlovian instinct.

  “Daddy?” Emmy unbuckled herself.

  He swallowed his nostalgia. “All set?”

  “Yes!” She flung her door open and jumped out into the sunlight.

  “Have you been on a boat before, Lisa?” he asked as he hauled the cooler out of the trunk. Emmy’s teacher had mentioned that the Crawfords had recently moved to town from central Pennsylvania, so he doubted she had.

  “Only rowboats,” she answered matter-of-factly. On the surface, she didn’t appear to have much in common with his daughter. No pink clothes. A sober personality. But she’d been polite and confident, and they were both newcomers looking to fit in.

  He set down the picnic basket of fried chicken, carrot sticks and hummus, and cookies that his mother had prepared, and closed the trunk.

  “Good morning, everyone. You must be Lisa.” Steffi smiled and shook Lisa’s hand. Steffi’s running shorts, water shoes, and ponytail made her look eighteen again. One glimpse of her rosy cheeks and smile worked like balm to his soul. She tugged at Emmy’s hair. “Aren’t we three lucky ladies? Sunshine. Light wind. An awesome captain. It doesn’t get any better.”

  A gull’s cry pierced the air, punctuating her pronouncement.

  “What’s in the backpack?” He gestured toward the small red pack slung over her shoulder.

  “A few fleece jackets in case it gets a little chilly on the way back.”

  “Good thought.” Ryan felt Emmy at his side, which meant she still wasn’t comfortable with Lisa. “Honey, grab the bag of beach towels from the front seat. Then you and Lisa can also carry this picnic basket.”

  Emmy hefted the bag of towels over her shoulder, and she and Lisa took hold of the picnic basket’s handles.

  “Steffi, I’ll run ahead and check the engine, oil, uncover the sails and stuff. Can you manage the cooler and make a pit stop in the marina store to grab some ice and whatever else we might need? Maybe a tube of sunscreen?”

  Emmy giggled. “Dad, we won’t need sunscreen. It’s not that hot.”

  “You can still get sunburn on a fall day from the reflection of sunlight off the water.” Her dubious expression told him she didn’t buy that argument.

  “One time I got sunburn while skiing,” Steffi added. “Sun reflects off the snow, too.”

  Emmy and Lisa looked at each other and rolled their eyes, the first link of a bond forming through mutual disdain for the grown-ups’ concerns. Well, at least that was something.

  “Come on, girls. Let’s raid the store.” Steffi raised the cooler’s roller bar and strolled ahead, calling over her shoulder, “It used to have the best selection of candy in town.”

  By the time the ladies made their way to his slip, he’d just about prepared everything. It seemed right—being back on Knot So Fast. The captain of his ship. It’d been tough to get excited about much lately, but standing there finding his balance against the boat’s gentle rocking, he couldn’t stop smiling.

  After helping the girls aboard and securing the cooler and other items in the lockers below deck, he came back up, eager to introduce Emmy to one of his favorite pastimes.

  Steffi finished fastening the girls’ life vests, then whipped a bandanna from her back pocket and used it to secure her hair from blowing around her face. In a blink, it was 2006 again, and his heart swelled like the water around them. The fact that she was there with him sharing Emmy’s maiden voyage made it more remarkable.

  “I assume I’ll be on point with all my old jobs?” Steffi asked.

  “Please.” He nodded.

  She jumped onto the dock to untie the lines as the engine hummed to life. The rumbling engine, the faint odor of gas and fish, the light breeze on his face . . . everything rushed back, awakening the carefree spirit he hadn’t revisited in years.

  Steffi leaped back onto the boat, and they began the slow journey out of the marina.

  “I thought we were sailing.” Emmy frowned, her gaze moving from the top of the masthead to the outboard engine.

  “We can’t hoist the sails until we’re away from the marina and in deeper water. Be patient.” He patted her knee.

  The young girls fidgeted with their life jackets, neither one having much to say to the other. He should’ve prepared better . . . set them on a small task to force them to work together.

  Emmy peered into the cabin, then looked up with a quick smile. “Can we go downstairs? It’s like a fort!”

  “Go ahead and look around.” Ryan remained at the tiller, guiding the small craft out to the open waters of the sound as his daughter and Lisa scurried below deck. As an afterthought, he called, “We’ll call you up when we’re ready to hoist the sails.”

  “What do you want to bet those two will spend more time playing house down there than they will learning how to maneuver this thing?” Steffi sat a few feet away, her hands on the cushions on either side of her, face now turned toward the bow.

  Despite the wind, he found himself sweating. Like a ship caught in irons, he couldn’t move, his heart stuck between hope and doubt. He and St
effi could never relive the happy-go-lucky days they’d spent this way. His daughter’s giggles below proved exactly how different things were. And yet . . . pointed toward the horizon, anything seemed possible.

  They motored farther out. Water slapped against the hull like an uneven metronome. Tracking time. Days, months, years of their lives that had stretched—pulling them in separate directions—then rebounded like a rubber band to snap them back together. He wondered how often she, too, battled bittersweet memories.

  Steffi broke his dream state when she stood. “Time for me to take over here so you can hoist the mainsail?”

  “Sure.” He vacated his seat so she could manage the tiller, then leaned over the stairs and called out, “Emmy, Lisa, come up if you want to see us hoist the sails.”

  “Woo!” came their collective voices only seconds before two small heads popped through the doorway.

  “You girls sit over there.” He pointed to the bench near Steffi. “Today just listen and learn. After another time or two, you can have real jobs. Sound good?”

  “I can help now, Dad. Ask Steffi. I’m a good helper!” Emmy scowled at him as if he’d denied her ice cream or a new Barbie.

  “Be a really good listener for now,” he said. “I’ll quiz you before we head home. If you pass, you can help then.”

  Emmy turned to her new friend, brows pinched in concentration. “We have to pay attention.”

  Ryan briefly taught the girls about keeping the boat facing into the wind so that it didn’t blow sideways as the sails went up. He then explained the blocks and halyard, the winch, and the function of the tiller.

  “You steady?” he asked Steffi.

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” She winked. “Hoist away!”

  He might’ve stumbled, blinded by the memory her words summoned. Memories, actually, of when she’d teased him with that nickname and comment below deck, when their bodies had been sweat-soaked and sated.

  He cleared his throat. “Here we go!”

  Like everything else about the day, it all came back to him as if he hadn’t skipped a summer of sailing in his life. As Steffi kept the boat nose into the wind, he cranked up the main, then winched it tight, taking the slack out of the sail.