Harbor Nights

by Marcia Evanick

  “What are we looking for?” asked a deep, rumbling whisper.

  Norah jumped a good two inches off the bench, but thankfully, she controlled the scream that was lodged in her throat. Jill and Kay’s only reaction was to turn their heads and smile. “Hi, Matt,” Kay said.

  “Shhh . . . We’re hunting wabbits,” Jill whispered back with a pretty good imitation of Elmer Fudd.

  Matt grinned at the sight. John Jr. was holding Morgan back by the waistband on her shorts. If she wiggled any farther under the bush, Morgan would moon the entire neighborhood.

  Morgan poked her head out from under the bush. “Uncle Matt!” she screamed in delight as she backpedaled. Thankfully, John Jr. released his daughter’s shorts as she jumped to her feet and sprinted across the yard. Hunter and Tyler groaned as the rabbit ran out from under the bush and streaked across the neighbor’s yard before disappearing from sight.

  Matthew caught Morgan as she launched herself into his arms. “Hello, Menace. I see you haven’t lost your touch.”

  Morgan’s little arms encircled his neck. “Mom says you are the menace, not me.”

  “She did, did she?” Matthew’s grin was pure wickedness. “I guess the next time I watch you little monsters, I need to teach you how to corral a skunk.”

  “Me too!” shouted Hunter as he latched onto Matthew’s leg.

  “Sure thing, squirt.” Matthew’s gaze captured hers. “Hi, I’m Matt Porter, since no one sees fit to introduce us.”

  “Norah Stevens.” She smiled up into his light blue eyes. Matt had eyes the same color as his mother’s. “My mother and I just moved in next door.” She nodded her head in the direction of their home. “Your mother invited us over for a cookout.”

  Matt glanced around the yard. “Where’s your mom?”

  “She’s inside helping your mom with dinner.”

  A boyish smile curved his mouth as he leaned in closer and confessed, “Good, because she usually needs all the help she can get.”

  She couldn’t help but smile back with appreciation. Matthew Porter was gorgeous, and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of flirtation in his blue eyes. “Mom’s a great cook.” She wasn’t exaggerating; her mom was a fantastic cook. Joanna Stevens could make canned tuna taste like five-star restaurant cuisine, while she had trouble cubing cheese.

  “Oh good, Matthew, you’ve met Norah.” Peggy pushed her way out of the back door carrying a tray loaded down with what appeared to be ten pounds of hamburger patties and three packs of hot dogs.

  John Porter took the tray from his wife and headed for the barbeque.

  Norah prayed those hamburger patties were really beef. She had no idea what venison looked like, and she wasn’t prepared to make a mortal enemy out of the Disney Corporation.

  “We were just getting acquainted.” Matthew maneuvered Morgan onto his shoulders. The little girl giggled with delight. Dirt from Morgan’s sneakers streaked Matthew’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

  “That’s nice.” Peggy beamed with parental pride. “Matthew’s my next to youngest, and he does preservation work on old historic buildings.”

  Ned’s deep voice interrupted his mother’s sales pitch for her son. “He also loves children, is kind to animals, and flosses at least once a day.” Ned carried a cooler into the backyard and bared his teeth at his brother in a remarkably false smile.

  Flipper galloped into the yard and, with a cheerful bark, headed straight for Hunter and Tyler.

  Matthew smiled back at his younger brother. “Oh, look who joined the party—the runt of the litter, Ned.”

  Chapter Three

  Ned tried not to think about what kind of fool he had just made out of himself. He had been rounding the corner of the house when he’d heard his mother practically throwing Matthew at Norah. His mother had no shame, and Matthew had seemed more than willing to be thrown.

  Norah’s reaction was a little harder to gauge. He couldn’t tell if her laugh had been a response to his obvious distaste for his mother’s matchmaking or the fact that Matthew had referred to him as the runt of the litter. At six feet, two inches, he was hardly a runt; however, not only was he the youngest at twenty-seven, but he was also the smallest male Porter. Thankfully, in his eighteenth year, he had experienced that desperately needed growth spurt, so he could now at least claim an inch in height over his own mother.

  Being the baby of the family sucked.

  He placed the cooler, packed with drinks and ice, on the ground near one of the picnic tables. After his brothers had gotten married and the grandkids had started to make an appearance, his parents had bought a second table to fit everyone. Tonight, with the added company, it was going to be a tight fit.

  Ned didn’t even have to guess where Matthew would be sitting. He had seen that competitive gleam in his older brother’s eye. With less than two years separating them, Matthew and he had been competing against each other most of their lives. With his uncharacteristic jealous remarks, he had unintentionally made Norah the prize.

  It was the last thing he had planned on doing. Norah, or any other woman, deserved better than that. Besides, he had no intention of asking Norah out. At a very delicate height of five feet, one inch, she was the polar opposite of what he was looking for in a woman.

  He had always pictured himself with a woman who was like his sisters-in-law. Kay and Jill were tall, sturdy women who could not only take care of themselves and their families but who also loved the outdoors as much as his brothers. They were the perfect match for his older brothers, John and Paul, and their contented marriages proved it. When it was time for him to settle down and start a family of his own, he wanted an independent, nature-loving woman. One who enjoyed hiking, kayaking, and camping under the stars as much as he did.

  Norah looked like a good nor’easter would blow her off her feet, and she wouldn’t be able to walk two feet into the woods without scaring off every animal within three hundred yards. Norah jingled when she moved. Bracelets clanged on her wrists, and the silver charms that circled one of her delicate ankles tinkled when she walked. Tonight, even her shoes gave off a chiming melody.

  Norah Stevens was one noisy woman.

  “Oh good, you brought beer,” said Paul as he reached into the cooler and pulled out a cold one.

  “There’s soda, water, and juice for the kids too.” Ned reached under the ice and pulled out three juice boxes as Hunter and Tyler came running.

  He handed each of his nephews a drink and chucked an ice cube high into the air. Flipper caught the ice before it had a chance to hit the ground.

  “Here you go, sweetie. I didn’t forget you.” He handed Morgan, who was still on his brother’s shoulders, her box and tried not to smile as a sliver of ice slid off the box and fell into Matthew’s hair.

  “What can I get you, Norah?” Tonight, the green of her eyes seemed darker, more mysterious. Which made him question his own sanity. He’d never once thought a woman’s eyes were mysterious. What was it about Norah Stevens that attracted him so?

  The red of her blouse should have clashed horribly with her red, spiky hair. For some unknown reason, it didn’t. The deep, dark red color of her hair had to be as fake as the dozen or so diamonds marching up the outer edge of her ears. No one with a lick of sense walked around with that much money stuck in her ears. Then again, no one in her right mind would poke that many holes in her ears.

  “Water would be great, Ned,” answered Norah.

  Norah stood up and helped Morgan jam her straw through the slit in her juice box. “Here you go, sweetie.”

  Morgan smiled, remembered her manners, and said, “Thank you.” Her little hands gripped the box hard as she stuck the straw into her mouth and slurped. Liquid poured over the side of the box and into Matthew’s hair.

  Matthew cringed, and Norah’s mouth twitched. “Maybe you should put her down to drink that.” Norah’s voice kept breaking on a laugh she fought not to release.

  “It’s a li
ttle too late for that.” Matthew shuddered as a drop of apple juice slid over his jaw and down into the neckline of his T-shirt.

  Ned almost felt sorry for his brother. Almost, but not quite. Sibling rivalry was far too ingrained into their personalities. Just because he wasn’t about to ask Norah out didn’t mean he liked the idea of Matthew dating his rose fairy. “Betcha that’s cold.” He eyed a second drop of juice as it rolled down his brother’s jaw.

  Matthew gave him a look that promised retaliation in the future for that comment. “I take it that you’ve already met Norah?”

  He twisted the cap, breaking the seal on the water bottle, and handed it to Norah. He had no idea what compelled him to answer, “We stood in the moonlight discussing roses and fairies.”

  By the gleam of speculation and slack-jawed astonishment, it seemed every member of his family heard his reply. By the looks his brothers were giving him, one would think he had just admitted doing lap dances down at the One-Eyed Squid. He fought the flush of embarrassment threatening to sweep up his face. What was so unusual about him talking to a woman in the moonlight? “Now, if you would excuse me, I think I’ll go help Dad with the burgers.”

  He’d started to beat a hasty retreat when Norah’s soft voice stopped him in his tracks. “Ned?”

  “Yes?”

  Norah raised the bottle. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He turned and walked over to the brick barbeque.

  His father handed him the metal spatula and then continued placing the patties on the grill. “Glad to see you aren’t going to let Matthew walk away with the girl without a fight.”

  “We aren’t fighting, Dad.” He eyed the barely cooked burgers, wishing they were burnt so he could flip them. “Matthew can have any girl he wants.”

  “Except that one, right?” John Porter put the last hamburger patty on the grill. His father kept his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Norah’s free to date anyone she chooses.” He pressed down on a couple of burgers. The sound of grease hitting the hot coals below had a nice, calming effect on his nerves. He was still trying to figure out what had possessed him to rush to the store on his way home for the drinks and a bag of ice. He had dumped everything into the cooler, hurried through his shower, and headed back to his parents in record time. Yet Matthew had arrived before him and had naturally taken an interest in Norah. It wasn’t every day that a single, beautiful woman moved to Misty Harbor, and his brother wasn’t a fool.

  “I don’t know, Ned. Moonlight, flowers, and magical creatures sound pretty serious to me.” His father sliced open the packs of hot dogs while glancing over at the picnic tables where Norah and Matthew were talking.

  “I found her under Mom’s rosebush.” He smashed a couple more burgers and took a hasty step back as flames and smoke erupted from the coals.

  His father shook his head as he glanced at the bush in question. “What was she doing under there?”

  “She was trying to retrieve her mother’s dog.” He flipped the first few burgers.

  “Zsa Zsa?” His father chuckled as he started to place some hot dogs on the grill.

  “I wouldn’t laugh too hard. The rat has some sharp little teeth.” Ned looked at his thumb where a small indent, the size of a Pomeranian tooth, was still visible. A little black and blue area had formed around it.

  “Now I understand.” His father took the spatula out of his hands and started to flip some burgers. “Norah does have the look of some fey woodland creature, doesn’t she?” Grease sizzled, and smoke rose. “I think it’s the slant of her eyes that does it.”

  “I called her a rose fairy.” He picked up a fork and started to turn the hot dogs. With her high cheekbones and eyes that tilted slightly upward, Norah did have the “fey” look of some woodland nymph.

  “You might be onto something there.”

  “There’s no such thing as fairies, Dad. Rose ones or otherwise.” His father had obviously helped himself to one too many beers if he thought otherwise. He neatly turned the next row of hot dogs, lining them up side by side.

  “Have you taken a close look at your mother’s rosebush lately?”

  He glanced across the yard. The sickly bush appeared a little greener than normal. But it might have been a trick of the fading evening light. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing is wrong with it. In fact, just the opposite. There are three new buds on it. They aren’t open yet, but they are buds. Wouldn’t believe your mother until I came outside and saw them for myself.”

  “Three buds?” As far back as he could remember, his mother’s rosebush had never had three buds at the same time on it. The bush barely survived from season to season. “Maybe Zsa Zsa fertilized it.”

  “Don’t tell your mother that.” His father groaned with that thought. “She’ll have me pooper-scooping Joanna’s backyard and feeding my collection to every shrub in the yard.”

  He chuckled at the thought of his father cleaning up after Zsa Zsa. “For your dignity’s sake, my lips are sealed.”

  “Now, this I have to hear,” Paul said as he joined them at the barbeque. “Spill the secret.”

  “What secret?” asked John Jr. as he handed his father a cold beer and joined them around the grill.

  Ned muttered in disgust, “There is no such thing as secrets in this family.” His brothers always had their noses in his business, claiming they were looking out for him. As a young boy, he had returned the favor as often as possible by spying on them and usually ratting them out, unless their bribe was too good to pass up.

  “We were discussing your mother’s rosebush.” His father took a sip of beer and went back to flipping burgers. “It has three new, and very healthy-looking, buds on it ready to bloom.”

  Both of his brothers turned and stared at the bush in awe. “Really? Wow, how did that happen?” asked John Jr.

  “What has she been feeding it?” asked Paul.

  “Don’t tell your mother, but we believe Zsa Zsa has been fertilizing it.”

  “Zsa Zsa isn’t big enough to fertilize a dandelion,” said Paul.

  “Who’s Zsa Zsa?” asked John Jr.

  “It’s a what, not a who.” Ned glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. “It’s a four-pound Pomeranian that belongs to Norah’s mother.”

  “Joanna seems mighty attached to her, so try not to laugh at it or step on it.” John Porter flipped another row of burgers. “Darn little thing gets right under your feet, and you can’t see it.”

  A horrifying thought occurred to Ned. “Dad, you didn’t step on her, did you?” Zsa Zsa having a run-in with one of the Porter’s notorious big feet spelled disaster.

  “No, but it was a close call”—his father took another sip of beer before adding—“twice.”

  The back screen door slammed shut, and a high-pitched barking echoed through the yard. His father took another sip of beer before turning back to the burgers. “Speak of the devil. Boys, watch your feet.”

  Flipper’s ears perked up as he made a beeline for the smaller dog. “Flipper,” Ned raised his voice, “heel.”

  Flipper stopped in his tracks and sat. It would have been an impressive show of command, but Zsa Zsa took Flipper’s retreat as a show of weakness and charged the bigger dog. Thankfully, Norah scooped up the Pomeranian in mid charge.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Norah gently tapped Zsa Zsa on the nose. “Behave yourself, or you’re going home.”

  Joanna, who had followed the dog out of the house, placed a bowl of fruit salad on the table and reached for her dog. “She’s just excited by all the people.” Zsa Zsa quieted down and glanced around like she understood what Joanna had said and knew she was now the center of attention.

  Ned wasn’t positive, but it appeared as if the darn dog was smiling.

  All the kids came running to see the tiny dog with the pink bow in her hair. Zsa Zsa’s toenails were painted to match the satin bow. More than
likely, neither his nephews nor niece had ever seen such a ridiculous sight.

  Joanna sat down and happily introduced the audience to pint-sized Zsa Zsa. The miniature dog lapped up all the attention while poor Flipper sat there wagging his tail and whining.

  Ned’s five-year-old nephew, Tyler, was the first to take pity on Flipper. The boy gave the Newfoundland a big hug. “Come on, Flipper; let’s go find that rabbit.”

  Morgan and Hunter, not to be left out of the fun, dashed after Tyler and the dog.

  John Jr. shook his head. “I better stick close to the great hunters. Tyler just got over a case of poison ivy.” John Jr. headed after the barking dog and shouting kids.

  “Three against one isn’t fair.” Paul finished his beer and placed the empty bottle in the plastic recycle container by the back door. “I better go help him. Last time he was in charge of those three, they talked him into allowing them to go swimming out at Summer’s Point. I thought Kay and Jill were going to kill him when they found out.” Paul hurried after his brother.

  John Porter chuckled. “Kids will keep you young, Ned. You should give some serious thought to settling down and making a couple of those rugrats of your own.”

  “Kids will keep you broke, Dad.” Just because his father didn’t look over at Norah didn’t mean he didn’t have a particular woman in mind to become the mother of those future grandchildren. His father was about as subtle as an elephant in a strawberry patch.

  Ned eventually wanted a couple of kids, but at twenty-seven, he wasn’t in a hurry to lose sleep, change diapers, and worry about college tuition. He was more interested in finding the right woman, falling in love, and going on a honeymoon—a very long honeymoon.

  As for his father wanting him to settle down—if he settled down any further, they would be holding his wake and burying him next to his great grandfather, Captain Horatio Porter. His life was on the same excitement scale as watching a snail crawl. Misty Harbor wasn’t geared toward an exciting nightlife or even a day life.

  The small, close-knit town only came to life during the tourist season. Then, the tourists mostly consisted of families and the occasional honeymoon couple. The Maine coast didn’t make the top ten list for singles looking for action, love, or a tan. While bikini-clad women lined sandy island beaches drinking fruit-flavored drinks with tiny umbrellas stuck in them, Misty Harbor was serving up lobsters, clam chowder, and a cold mist spraying in your face as the waves crashed against the rocky shore.