by Cimms, Karen
“Like I said, I’m a good listener.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
She stepped back. It had been a long time since she’d been touched, and she didn’t like it. He was invading her home and now her personal space.
“If you change your mind or if you want seconds,” he continued, “you know where to find us. Just follow the sound of the band.”
Band? Sure enough, she heard the familiar sound of guitars tuning up.
“Good thing my dad invites the whole neighborhood, or someone would be calling the cops. I hope you like rock ’n’ roll, because whether you join us or not, you’re going to hear it.”
Her heart plummeted, and her throat went dry. “Your dad likes rock?”
Jeff laughed. “Hardly. It’s all hippie music to him. It’s a local rock band. They’re good. They played my brother’s wedding a few years ago. Since then, Dad hires them for the picnic. Come over, you’ll see.”
She shook her head. “I, um—the phone.”
Lame, Kate.
It was obvious no phone was ringing, but Jeff said nothing as she ushered him to the door and locked it behind him.
A band? She toyed with the idea of going out to get away from it, but even if she could think of someplace to go, she couldn’t stay out all day and half the night. She’d been facing her fears, hadn’t she? Maybe it was time to confront some emotions.
Downstairs, she tried to focus on her book, but the sound of the lead guitar beckoned like a siren on the rocks. Who was she kidding? She may not have been born with music in her blood, but it lived there now. She slipped out onto the patio and curled up on the daybed.
Almost every song Harold’s band played triggered a memory. Most made her sad, but they didn’t kill her. Only one made her cry, “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” It was the song Billy had asked her to dance to the night they met. She closed her eyes, eighteen again in her high-heeled boots, swaying in the arms of a beautiful stranger. She could feel the beat of his heart against her cheek and the press of his large, warm hand against her back, pulling her so close the metal of his belt buckle had made her shiver.
When the song was over, she opened her eyes. Charlie’s head rested in her lap as she absentmindedly stroked behind his ear. The darkness before her was watery, distorting the beam from the nearly full moon into a jagged path across the cove, but the music—and the memories—hadn’t destroyed her.
* * *
Kate fell asleep easily that night and woke early. She dreamed of Billy, but the memory evaporated as soon as she opened her eyes.
She took Charlie for a walk down at the water’s edge, and by the time they returned, the coffee had finished brewing. She poured herself a large cup and stepped out onto the deck, relishing the feel of the smooth boards, warm beneath her bare feet. The sun hung high above the trees, and the birds were already in full voice. Another beautiful day. She settled into the rocker, pressed her toes against the railing, and rocked gently.
The tranquility was short-lived.
At just a few minutes past nine, a knock at the door engaged Charlie’s frantic barking. Harold, most likely, coming to scold her for not attending his party.
Wrong again.
“Morning,” Jeff said with a big smile. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”
He seemed rather energetic, considering the party had gone on pretty late.
“I did, thank you. I would’ve brought the dish back, but I see you still have company. I didn’t want to intrude.” Could he tell she was lying? She had no intention of going anywhere near the place until everyone was gone, him included.
“No intrusion, just my brothers and their families. They’re getting ready to head back to Boston. I’m staying until next Saturday.”
“Yes, you said that. Let me get your dish.”
This time, he waited on the porch. When she handed him the clean plate, he tucked it under his arm.
“Dad wanted me to ask if you’d like to join us for a boat ride this afternoon. We haven’t been out together since last summer, and I miss it. It’s a beautiful day.”
And it was. It was perfect, actually.
“We’re going to sail up toward Cape Elizabeth and maybe out to Two Lights. You can’t appreciate Maine fully unless you’ve seen the coast from the water.”
Tempting, but she couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. “No, thank you. I can’t.”
His face darkened slightly. “Would you at least think about it? I promised Dad I’d convince you to join us. You don’t want me to disappoint him, do you?”
“Really, I c—”
“Look, Kate.” Those blue eyes and good looks weren’t the only thing he inherited from his father, who was also stubborn as a mule. “We’re heading to church soon. We’ll be back in about two hours. If you change your mind, just come over. No strings. You don’t even have to talk to us. You can sit on one end, and we’ll sit on the other and ignore you. But I promise you’ll enjoy it. I can’t think of a better way to enjoy God’s handiwork on such a beautiful day than getting on the water.”
He pouted and gave her what was clearly meant to be puppy-dog eyes. She recognized it for exactly what it was: flirting. She wanted to march across the lawn and set Harold straight before this went any further. This was the last thing she needed. It was nice to think she could attract someone if she wanted—but she didn’t.
“I’ll think about it.” Her answer surprised her.
“That’s all we ask.” He was smiling again. “See you later.”
He jogged across the lawn.
“I said I’ll think about it!”
He raised his arm dismissively, exactly like his father.
She leaned against the heavy oak door after she closed it and sighed. It was tempting. The Portland Head Light had always been one of her favorite places. Being out on the water would be like breaking free, shaking off the grip of the shadows that still had a hold on her. Then again, if Harold had some designs of hooking her up with his son, she didn’t want to encourage that in the least. She’d told him she was separated, not available.
She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and returned to her rocking chair outside. A cormorant stood on a large boulder, strutting and preening, and spreading its wings to dry in the sun. It lifted into the air and flew lazy circles over the incoming tide. It dipped and rose, soaring up and over her house, then back again. Each circle grew wider until it eventually disappeared from view.
Kate rose and stretched her arms up and out. She wasn’t ready to soar, but maybe she could stretch her wings.
* * *
Nerves got the better of her as she crossed into Harold’s yard. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. She was turning back when he called out to her.
“You’re coming! Wonderful!” Harold stood on the top step of his deck, beaming.
She didn’t see Jeff, which was perfect. If she was going to do this, Harold needed to know that his plan to fix her up with his son wasn’t going to fly. No matter how nice he was or how good-looking or charming, it wasn’t happening. After all, she’d been charmed by the best, and look how that had turned out.
“Look, Harold.” Kate kept her voice low since the windows were open. “About Jeff. He seems very nice, but I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone right—”
The sliding door opened and Jeff stepped out.
“You changed your mind!” He sounded pleased. “This will be just what the doctor ordered. I promise.”
Kate felt the smile freeze on her face as Jeff unfastened the top button of his black shirt and slipped the white clerical collar out from the bands that held it in place. He looked as if he were trying not to laugh.
“Give me a minute to change, and then we can get going,” he said. “That okay with you, Dad?”
“Whatever you say, Father.”
Jeff gave her a wink before heading inside.
Her throat had gone dry. “Your son’s a priest?”
“Yup.” He
was grinning now. “What did you think? I was trying to fix you up?”
As embarrassed as she was, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“You know what they say about assumptions,” he said.
She made a face. “Yes, but why am I the only one who feels like an ass?”
“Good question.”
Chapter Twenty
They made their way down the steep, narrow steps to Harold’s dock and boarded a small Zodiac that took them out to a boat so big it had its own bathroom, galley kitchen, and a bed. They set sail with Harold at the helm, heading out of Broad Cove and south toward Portland.
“On the left is Peak’s Island,” Harold called over his shoulder. He pointed to a two-story building with a large, wraparound deck. “See that white building there? That’s where my son Steven and his wife, Susan, got married, right out there on the dock.”
That was surprising. “Not in church?”
Jeff shrugged and smiled.
“And here on the right is Bug Light and just beyond that, Spring Point. In just a minute or so, you should be able to see the Portland Head Light.”
She shielded her eyes and stared into the distance. Sure enough, there it was. Spotting the familiar silhouette gave her the same sense of excitement she’d had as a child. This had always been a magical place for her. All the memories tied up in this sliver of coastline were still there.
They made their way closer to the iconic lighthouse, which was just as beautiful from Casco Bay as it was from land. Harold throttled down the engine as they neared the promontory and she stared up at the monolith, squinting into the sun.
Jeff stood beside her, his hand shielding his eyes. “A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,” he said, reciting a piece from her favorite poem, “Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove. It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock, But hails the mariner with words of love.”
“‘Sail on!’ it says, ‘sail on, ye stately ships! And with your floating bridge the ocean span,’” Kate answered. “‘Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse. Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!’”
A smile spread across his face. “Another Longfellow fan.”
“I am.”
“They say he used to walk from his house on Congress Street a couple of times a week to visit the lightkeeper.”
“I remember reading that and also that this lighthouse was the inspiration for the poem.”
“She knows her Maine history, Dad,” Jeff called back to Harold.
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I always loved this lighthouse and Longfellow.” She almost added that her mother had made her read Longfellow’s poems one summer during their vacation, but while it was one of her better memories, she didn’t want to introduce the darkness that usually accompanied thoughts of her mother into such a beautiful day.
Kate gripped the rails as a passing boat caused them to rock in its wake.
“Want to see Two Lights?” Harold asked.
“Love to.” She resumed her seat in the stern.
The breeze picked up and the temperature dropped as they motored out of the harbor and into open water. She slipped on her jacket and zipped it up, then moved up into the bow to watch the seals swimming nearby or sunning themselves on the rocky shoreline. Maybe that flirty little seal she’d met a couple of weeks ago was watching her again.
They sailed past Two Lights and a bit farther out. It was unnerving to be so far from land, but it was also thrilling. Part of her wanted to keep going, maybe all the way to Nova Scotia. But before long, Harold swung around and headed back to land. They picked up speed, and the roar of the engine and the rush of the water against the sides of the boat discouraged conversation. With the wind in her hair, the salt spray on her face, and the warmth of the sun on her back, Kate settled in, her mind untethered to the past, and let herself absorb the experience.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had such a nice day,” she said later, as Jeff helped her from the Zodiac onto the dock. “Thank you. And Jeff—Father Jeff. Thanks for being so persistent.”
“Jeff, please. You don’t need to call me Father. You’ll make me feel old.”
“I was raised a good Catholic girl. I’d be punished if my mother heard me call you by your given name.”
“Not acceptable,” he insisted. “Jeff is fine.”
She led the way up the steep stairs into Harold’s lush back yard. It was time to go home. Charlie needed to go out, but she couldn’t seem to move from the yard. She didn’t want the day to end. She didn’t want another night of sitting alone, staring out at the ocean and feeling sorry for herself.
“I understand if you already have plans.” The words poured out before she could change her mind. “But I’d love to take you to dinner tonight. Today was wonderful. I needed this more than you could imagine.”
Father and son exchanged glances.
“Nothing but leftovers here,” Harold answered.
“That would be nice,” Jeff said. “We have no plans.”
“But you’re not paying!” Harold’s gruff façade returned. “I’m not into these women’s libbers. No woman should ever pay for dinner.”
“I insist.”
He turned abruptly. “Insist all you want,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re not paying. We’ll pick you up at eight.”
Jeff gave her a lopsided grin. “You have to learn to pick your battles. This isn’t one you’re likely to win.”
* * *
Jeff pulled into Kate’s driveway exactly at eight. Harold stepped out and offered her the front seat.
“Don’t be silly. I’ll sit in the back.”
Of course he ignored her.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and slid in beside Jeff.
Harold opened the back door but stopped before climbing in. “Damn it. Just remembered, I was supposed to make a call at eight. Business. You two go ahead. The reservation is for eight fifteen. Don’t be late. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done.” He slammed the door shut and started back across the lawn.
“We can wait,” she called after him, but as he so often did, he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
“That’s silly for him to take his car.”
“Battles, Kate. Remember?”
A few minutes later, they pulled up to The Channel Grill.
“This is beautiful,” she told Jeff as the hostess led them to a table on the deck overlooking the water. The staff had dropped screens around the outdoor area to keep the mosquitoes out, a courtesy she appreciated, as no-see-ums found her quite tasty. “I’ve been here before with my friend Tommy, but only during the winter.”
Jeff told the waiter there would be three for dinner, but after a half hour, Kate knew Harold wasn’t coming.
“Did he plan this too?”
“Probably, although he didn’t say anything to me about it. I think his intentions are good.”
“Obviously it’s not a fix-up.” She toyed with a breadstick. “At least I hope not. I haven’t been to church lately, but I’m pretty sure priests still can’t marry. Dating is probably frowned upon as well.”
Jeff laughed. “My dad thinks you need a friend. Since you won’t talk to him—and even if you did—there isn’t much he feels he can say to help you. He’s convinced I’d be a good friend. I think he looks at you almost like a daughter.”
“Or a daughter-in-law.”
Judging by his expression, Jeff hadn’t heard what Harold had told the staff about Kate when he was admitted to the hospital, so she explained.
“That bugger,” he said, whistling under his breath. “When was this?”
“You didn’t know he was in the hospital?”
He shook his head, so she told him everything, from the steady diet of creamed soups to the foreign daughter-in-law.
“No wonder he adopted you and then took your voice away.” He shook his head. “That sonofa—”
She pressed her palm against her chest in mock horror. “Father Jeff!”
He took a sip of his Manhattan, then continued to sell himself as her new best friend. “Dad likes you, and he’s worried about you. I’m a great listener, Kate. And a good counselor. Not only does it come with the territory as a spiritual adviser, but I did graduate work in psychology before I decided to go into the priesthood. Caring for people is my greatest joy. I believe it’s God’s plan for me.”
Her fingers gripped the napkin in her lap. All she’d wanted was a nice dinner out in gratitude for a special day. She wasn’t in the mood to be psychoanalyzed.
“I’m happy for you, and I’m glad you think God has a plan for you. Unfortunately, I don’t think he has one for me. To be honest, I think he’s forgotten who I am.”
Jeff folded his hands and looked at her intently. “I’m sure it feels that way, but God always has a plan. Sometimes you just need to listen and let him guide you to it.”
If God had a plan for her, she wanted no part of it, considering how it had gone so far. The world was filled with evil people and she’d never done anything to hurt anyone, yet she’d been through hell. Now here she was, alone, fighting to survive.
“Look.” She lowered her voice. “You don’t have a clue what my life is like, what I’ve been through, what I’ve seen, or what I’ve lost. There’s no fu—there’s no way you could know how to help me, even if I wanted your help.” She set her napkin on the table and pushed aside her avocado salad. “Could you please take me home?”
His hand stretched across the table and settled on her arm. “Kate, please. I didn’t mean to upset you. I promised my father I’d talk with you. Yes, he’s a meddling old man, but he means well. He doesn’t know what happened to you, but he knows it’s something big. It isn’t healthy to keep to yourself like you do, and I agree with him. And since he had no luck getting you to talk, he called in the big guns.”
She twisted her lips to keep from smiling. “You’re the big guns?”
“Afraid so.” He removed his hand. “I wasn’t planning to take vacation until autumn, when I usually come up and help him close the house. He begged me to come now. It wasn’t easy. Church is hopping this time of year with all the tourists.”
