Beach Winds

by Greene, Grace

  “Do what?”

  “They roost at night. At least, as far as I know. Not that I’ve given it much thought. Did you have a light on? Porch light?”

  “No light. It flew smack into the side of the house. It made a big noise when it hit. Besides, how else would it get there?”

  “You’re feeling better. I can tell because you’re ready to argue. You want to start a fight.”

  The cookie tin was more than half-empty. He hadn’t been aware of eating so many, but it must have been him. He put the lid back on and looked up. She was sitting there with that stupid blanket and her arms crossed and looking like she couldn’t decide whether to throw a punch or laugh.

  “There’s more,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m taking control of my life.”

  “Sure.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  “I’m going to pursue this family thing no matter what, no matter who gets in the way or tries to stop me.”

  He frowned. “Who would try to stop you? Aside from Laurel, I guess.”

  “I don’t know, but sometimes a person can be their own worst enemy. I’m going to believe in myself.”

  He opened his mouth to say easier said than done but stopped himself.

  “I’m going to prove I can manage on my own. I don’t need anyone to protect me.”

  “We can all use a little help sometimes.” Had he started this? He hadn’t meant to, not to push her to the point of…what? Putting herself at risk? She was a nervous type. He was no better than Maia, butting in and interfering in people’s lives. And what about himself? He’d kissed her only a few hours ago. Not planned, sort of. She’d been pissed about it. She hadn’t even mentioned it tonight, so maybe she still was. What did that mean now that she was telling him all this stuff? Did he owe her something?

  He pulled at his collar. It was getting overly warm in the room. He said, “Make sure you know what you’re doing, and if something scares you call the police. That’s what they get paid for.” He stood and the chair scraped against the floor. “Stay off the roof, will you? At least, until the weather warms up.”

  “I will.” She stood and walked with him.

  He paused before opening the door.

  “Can I ask you something?” He didn’t want to, but it bugged him that she hadn’t mentioned it. He could feel the words happening despite himself. “Are you still angry?”

  “Laurel—”

  “Not at Laurel. I mean me. For earlier today, you know?”

  “When you kissed me?” She put her hand on his arm. “Feels like ages ago, doesn’t it? I’d all but forgotten.”

  She didn’t sound mad. In fact, he’d just been called forgettable. Ticked him off.

  “Well, I’m sorry.” And he was, too.

  “That you kissed me? Seriously?” Her voice ended the sentence nearly an octave higher.

  The corner of his mouth twitched. He tried to pull it back into place. Maybe he wasn’t so forgettable, after all.

  “I’m not sorry if you don’t want me to be.”

  She shook her head. “I think you’re crazy.”

  Maybe he was. Hadn’t he known she was trouble, right from the first? “Meaning you’d rather not talk about it tonight?”

  “Crazy smart, is what you are.” She smiled sweetly and then stood on tiptoe and placed a quick kiss on his cheek before stepping back. “Frankly, it’s been a long day. Thank you for rescuing me tonight.”

  “Was that a rescue? Looked like you had it pretty much under control.”

  She groaned. “Just say ‘you’re welcome.’”

  Brian touched her cheek. “You’re welcome, Fran. I’m glad I could help whether you needed it or not.”

  “The last word.” She nodded. “That’s it, exactly.”

  “What?”

  “The last word. You want it, I want it.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped.

  She laughed.

  “So tonight the last word is mine? Then let’s make it ‘thank you.’ Thank you, Brian Donovan.”

  Something was happening inside his chest. He opened the door, glad to feel the cold air blow in and cool him off as he stepped outside.

  She held the door, keeping it open. “I almost forgot. Did you like the tea?”

  The tea? He tried to bring his brain back around to tea.

  Her face lit up and she punched his arm playfully. “You did! There, you see? Aren’t you glad you tried it? You never know when you’ll find something special, unless you give it a chance.”

  ****

  A couple of days later, Brian walked into the restaurant and stood in the entry way for nearly a minute as his eyes adjusted to the low light of the interior. Before the hostess came from wherever she’d been hiding, he’d already spotted the woman. She looked up. She was too far away for him to actually read her eyes, but he felt them upon him.

  “Sir? How many?”

  He smiled at the girl. “Just me.” He nodded toward her table. “I’m joining that lady over there.”

  Brian followed her to the table. As he pulled out his chair, he asked, “Cup of coffee?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  What was he doing here? He stared at the woman sitting across from him. How big a mistake was he making by being here? With her?

  She said, “Thank you. I appreciate you meeting me here.”

  “Mrs. Denman—”

  “Laurel, please.”

  He nodded. “Laurel. What can I do for you? Why did you call me?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I apologize for tracking you down. I’m sure you don’t need our family drama in your life, but Frannie trusts you. I don’t know if there’s more between you.” She held up her hand. “It’s not my business until Frannie wants it to be. I don’t know how to say this so, I’ll just do it. My daughter is different from most women. She’s different in a very special way. She seems tough and capable, but she’s very fragile inside and I worry about her. I mean, I really worry.”

  What was this supposed to mean to him? Several times, he started to interrupt, but stopped short. He’d seen Frannie in a very vulnerable state, so he couldn’t honestly dispute what this woman was saying, but he wouldn’t confirm it either.

  Finally, he shook his head. “Why are you saying this to me?”

  “You are a kind man. I believe, Mr. Donovan, you are a gentleman.”

  Laurel’s smile was dazzling. Almost hypnotic. Her voice, her mannerisms, they all flowed together to create a whole picture—a whole creature. For a minute or two, he was mesmerized. Then he forced himself to see critically. He noted the fine lines around her eyes and lips. They couldn’t all be erased with beauty treatments. Her hands, the manicure. He wasn’t a guy who noticed manicures, was he? They weren’t very practical. The nails seemed artificial. Which, come to think of it, they must be. Made him glad he hadn’t dressed up. His concession had been a clean pair of jeans and a shirt with buttons.

  He drew in a deep breath, finally feeling like the world was restored to common sense, even though this meeting with Fran’s mother made no sense at all.

  “Why did you call me? How did you find me?”

  Her hand flashed across the table to rest on his.

  “Please. I get the feeling you’re thinking about walking out of here. I promise I won’t keep you long. I care about my daughter.” She withdrew her hand and looked down at the table. “I fear for her.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  Laurel’s lips parted and then closed, but softly. She sighed. “You mean don’t I feel disloyal? The answer is yes, but I’d do anything for Frannie.”

  Despite himself, he was impressed that she admitted it.

  “I know it looks bad for me to do this, but,” she shrugged. “But that’s how much I care, and I’m telling you this because I hope you’ll help me watch out for her.” She held out her hands as if in supplication. “Call me if she needs me. Or if you sen
se she might be in trouble.” She pushed a slip of paper across the table. “Please take this. My phone number.”

  He didn’t reach out. He didn’t pick it up.

  “I’d better be on my way,” he said.

  “No lunch?”

  He shook his head, but as he stood, she grabbed his hand. She looked at him, her eyes wide and questioning. She pressed the slip of paper into his palm and then closed his fingers over it.

  “Are you going to tell her about our meeting?”

  “Mrs. Denman. Laurel. I’ll try to assume you mean well. I can’t imagine calling you for any reason, much less about Fran. If she wants to contact you, that’s her choice, her decision.”

  She pulled her hand back, but didn’t look fazed. She gave him sort of sideways look. “I admire character and integrity, Brian. I hope I may call you Brian? I think that’s very sweet.”

  He frowned. “What’s sweet?”

  “That you call her Fran.”

  “That’s her name, Laurel. Maybe you need to get to know her better.”

  ****

  That protective feeling, it almost floored him. He’d made it out of the restaurant without losing his temper and now he sat on his bike in the parking area at Captain’s Walk next to Fran’s car, telling himself that this was about nothing more than helping a friend. An attractive friend. Maybe more than a friend. But whatever else Laurel was, he could see her for the bully she was. She made his skin crawl. That was his opinion and he’d been wrong before. Interference was wrong. Hadn’t he told that to Maia often enough?

  Should he tell Fran about the meeting with Laurel? If Laurel was well-intentioned then it would hurt their mother-daughter relationship even more. If Laurel didn’t mean well then the same was true. Plus she’d ask, with every right to do so, why he’d shown up? She’d want to know why he’d agreed to meet with Laurel without telling her first.

  He knocked on the side door. There was no answer, but he’d try around the ocean side.

  Fran was sitting on the porch steps apparently watching the waves roll in. Not generally her style.

  “Fran?” No movement. He spoke louder. “Fran?”

  “Brian. I’m glad you’re here.”

  The words were fine, but her attitude put him on guard. She didn’t sound happy.

  “Judging by the tone of your voice, I’m not sure I’m glad. Did I do something wrong?”

  “You? Wrong?” She shook her head and looked back down at the paper she held in her hands. “Did you?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Guilty conscience?” She patted the porch beside her. “Join me? I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You said that already.” He assured himself she was joking, a weak joke from a woman who looked distracted or burdened. He lowered himself down onto the porch to sit beside her.

  “What’s up?”

  She stared at the paper she held and waved it at him. “This was among those papers from Will’s van.”

  “The map and the parking receipts? You mean that stuff?”

  “There was an envelope among that stuff. Suppose you’d thrown it away?”

  He held back from responding, trying to gauge why her voice was suddenly brittle, strained. Searching, he said, “But I didn’t throw it away.”

  “That’s right.” Suddenly, she lunged toward him. The edges of the paper grazed his cheek and her arms wrapped around him and she was almost in his lap, so he grabbed her, not wanting her to fall. She pressed her lips to his ear and murmured, “Thank you, Brian.”

  He couldn’t help himself. It was as easy as a shift of his arms, and the most natural thing in the world. She was suddenly on his lap and her lips were near his and he took the next, most logical, step.

  And totally forgot about Laurel Denman.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  His lips touched hers, softly at first, then more roughly. For a moment, she forgot why she was grateful and was so overwhelmed by his sudden embrace that she responded.

  She kissed him back. She clung to him, fighting the gravity that tried to pull her down and away. She held tightly to him, not to keep him, but to give back to him. The kiss lingered between them even as she felt the paper in her hand wrinkling.

  There was a magical moment when he pulled his lips away, a breath of space, enough to make her feel the loss, and then his cheek brushed hers as his lips moved to her neck. In that moment, she realized the paper was no longer in her hands.

  “Brian.” She pushed him away.

  “What?”

  “It’s gone. Where?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She saw the flash of white on the step below and knew that at any moment the wind would catch it and take it down the beach, maybe out to the ocean, beyond her reach. She dove for it, heedless of possible injury. As she pitched over the side of the steps, hands grabbed her and hauled her back.

  “Have you lost your mind?” His face was red. His hands were rough on her arms.

  “No,” she yelled. “The paper.”

  In one fluid movement, Brian went a few steps down the side stairs then vaulted over the railing and dropped the remaining few feet to the to the sand. She winced for him, but saw no sign of pain. There was only a trace of a limp as returned up the stairs and handed her the paper.

  She beamed. She held it in front of his face. He gave it a cursory glance and then looked more closely.

  “Does that say Julianne? Last name Cooke. Juli? Why would Will have Juli’s birth certificate in his van?”

  She whispered, “He made a trip to Richmond a month before his stroke. Remember the parking receipts in his van?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

  “Why would Uncle Will want Juli’s birth certificate?” She gripped his arm. “Why did he ask her to paint those seascapes last year? Did he seek her out because he suspected something? Or was it random? A chance meeting at Anna Barbour’s house? I don’t know the answers, but I’m beginning to understand.”

  Frannie didn’t wait for a response. “Uncle Will asked me to come visit him again at about the time he got Juli’s birth certificate. I intended to visit. Good intentions. I didn’t mean to neglect him. I wasn’t accustomed to having him in my life. And then he had the stroke.” Her voice had dwindled to silence. She shook off the guilt and sat up straight.

  “But this is the point. Look at the name of Juli’s mother.”

  “Frances.”

  “Frances Cooke.”

  “No father listed.”

  “Frances Cooke. Same as my birth mother.”

  He frowned. “Fran. You’re jumping to conclusions here.”

  “Am I?” She stared at the paper again as if it might yield more critical, life-altering information. “I was trying to calm down, to think it out, when you arrived.”

  She turned to him, her hope shining in her eyes. “Brian. Help me think it through. I know from my uncle’s letter that my father was married to Frances first—the Frances I’m named for. I confronted Laurel and she admitted Frances was my mother. She said Frances was dead, but, Brian, Laurel also said there was a child with Frances that day…that day when she turned her away.”

  “Our eye color, my dad’s color, is unusual. Maia said right from the start that we favored each other.”

  “Maia says a lot of stuff.” He sounded impatient. “Don’t they say everyone has a double? What are the odds that you would actually run into your…well, your lost family?”

  Lost family. It hit her that she’d been waiting most of her life. For what? For her lost family?

  “I think you’ve got it backward, Brian.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  He was trying to lighten the mood. She touched his cheek. “I would never have come here if not for Uncle Will. I’m not a beach person.”

  She pressed her fingers to her temples. “If Uncle Will hadn’t commissioned those paintings from Juli—this from a man who has not made a single concession,
decorating-wise, to having an oceanfront house—if he hadn’t, I never would have met her. That doesn’t sound like an accident to me. In fact,” she pointed her finger at no one in particular. “In fact, the biggest question is how did he find out, or even come to suspect, that there was a second child?”

  Frannie sighed and groaned at the same time. “He must get well so he can tell me.”

  Brian acted as though she hadn’t spoken. He touched her hair, then her ear and ran a finger along her neck.

  She drew in a sharp breath. “If this is your attempt to dissuade me, don’t try. You’ve expressed your opinion and maybe you’re right, but this is it, Brian. This is my chance.” She cleared her throat. “Don’t I owe it to Juli to share this information with her? That Uncle Will had a special interest in her? He did all of this on purpose, Brian. Am I supposed to just walk away?”

  “Fran. Listen. Do you really think you’re going to find a sister you never knew about living down the road? I need you to buy me some lottery tickets, and remind me not to stand beside you in a thunderstorm.”

  “Not funny.” She moved down a couple of steps and leaned back against the railing. “If she didn’t live a short distance down the road, then I don’t think it would’ve happened. In fact, maybe she already knows…at least about his interest.” Suddenly, one little thought burst into her brain and optimism overrode doubt. Excitement spurred her words.

  “Maybe she even knows there’s a relationship, but won’t speak unless I ask. Maybe she’s waiting for me to say something.”

  “Calm down. You’re getting ahead of yourself.” Brian massaged his knuckles. “If Will knew, he would’ve told you. He doesn’t play games with people’s lives. Same with Juli.”

  She returned to sit beside him. Her voice went soft. “Maybe he wanted to be sure before he said something. Or he could’ve had the stroke while he was waiting for me to arrive, to tell me in person.”

  Brian leaned forward. His arms resting on his knees, he stared out at the ocean. “One thing I know, Fran, is that if you open this up, you won’t be able to close it again. Somehow, I don’t think Juli is going to thank you for this. There’s no good way to have this conversation. Even if you knew for sure, it would be an incredibly difficult conversation.” He shook his head. “You know how I feel about messing in other people’s lives.”