by Rc Bonitz
"I'm going to check you out."
He nodded. "Please do it quietly, so you don't alert my father-in-law."
"I'll do what I have to do." She bit her lip. That sounded harsh, but it was true, she would do whatever was required to verify the truth of his story.
He scratched his head and gave her a steely-eyed look. "Yeah, you would."
She turned to Emma. The child was studying her intently. Lissey gave her a smile. "When you're ready, come bake with me in the morning."
"Thank you," Jake said and offered his hand.
Lissey shook it and found the contact warm and tingly. She blinked and let the corners of her lips turn upward in a smile.
They ambled off past her shop and Maria Sarano's gaudily decorated golf cart rental shop, Jake strolling slow enough for Emma to keep up, heading up the road toward the other end of the island. Half a dozen chickens scattered before them. Emma chased one briefly, then let it go its own way. The far end of the island would be a six-mile hike, twelve miles round trip, if they went the whole way, a little much for a tot like Emma.
Lissey slipped back into her shop, her heart thudding in her ribs. She'd become a conspirator to a man she barely knew and that left her stomach a little queasy. What if he were a liar, a kidnapper, a vicious husband to a suffering wife? She didn't trust strangers anymore. Ramon had cured her of that. But, Jake's eyes tearing up, that had been real.
It mattered not a whit though. She could end this little charade in a minute. All she had to do was report him.
Yeah, like to whom? She could call the constable, Kirby Wittingham, on Great Casque Island and burst the man's balloon. A sigh escaped her heart. What if Jake's story was true? Poor Emma, the child was so devoted to him. She couldn't be responsible for ruining their lives. Emma's life anyway.
"Ho there, anybody home?" her mom said.
"What?"
"You looked like you were in another world."
Lissey gave her a smile. "I'm sorry, I was just preoccupied with something Mr. Duncan told me."
Lavinia frowned. "Oh, what's that?"
She'd almost called him Jake. Keeping his secret would not be easy even for a short time. She hesitated. After all, Lavinia was her mother. But she had promised Jake, for a little while at least. "I can't tell you yet. I gave my word."
Her mom cocked an eyebrow. "Keeping secrets with strange men? That's not good."
Her cheeks grew warm, quite red she was sure. "It's not like that. And I might not keep the secret."
Her mom's frown deepened. "Now that sounds mysterious."
"I have some work to do on the computer. Can you watch the shop for a while?"
In the back of the kitchen, her laptop at the ready, she pulled up the Internet. A Google search for Diane Wainright's obituary immediately produced results. There she was, died in an accident February 4, 2014. The obit was from a local newspaper in New Haven, Connecticut. Not Boston, which he'd claimed as a homeport on his registration form. Was that a fiction too?
She studied the obit carefully. Diane Simpson Wainright was survived by her husband, Jake, a daughter Emma, and her parents, Arthur and Margaret Simpson of Trumbull, Connecticut, wherever that was. Donations could be made to MADD. Lissey groaned. A drunk had killed his wife apparently.
She sat back, staring at the glowing screen. Jake had told the truth. Or had he? He seemed to have a story for every contingency. What if he wasn't Jake, wasn't Wainright, and had Googled a few names until he found this obit for someone named Diane? Or saw the obituary in the local paper? A wave of disappointment swept over Lissey. So far, she had enough proof to decorate the point of a pin.
She abandoned the computer and wandered back outside. There was a lot to think about. How to call Kirby Wittingham over on Great Casque without stirring up Pandora's Box. She smiled at the thought. Tell the world about Jake—she could do that in a minute. Well, maybe. Lissey groaned, what was she thinking? She had legal responsibilities here. If she found out he'd been lying she'd have to report him to somebody. Emma though, she was something else. The girl obviously loved her daddy. No way did Lissey want to ruin that for her unless she had to.
A man, a woman and a little girl about Emma's age were walking up the dock, apparently fresh off Louis's boat. Vacationers or live-aboards newly arrived apparently. Sparkling new color matched yachting clothes, they had to be vacationers. They headed in her direction.
"Are you from Lissey's?" the man asked. "The man on the launch said we have to sign in for a mooring."
"Welcome to Little Casque Island. I'm actually Lissey, but you don't need me. Just go on inside. My mother will sign you in."
The woman smiled. "Thank you. Is there any night life on this island?"
"There are a couple of places. The nearest is The Sea Horse Grill, about a mile up the road."
"Thank you, thank you very much," the man said with an obsequious smile. He reached out and hurried the little girl along.
Lissey watched them enter the shop. Nightlife? Would they take the child with them to the bar? She sighed. It took all kinds. A smile stole across her face. They could be kidnappers for all she knew.
Like Jake, the guy could be hiding from his wife. Except he might be traveling with a woman he picked up somewhere along the way. Except Jake wasn't hiding from his wife. If he'd told the truth. And these duded up people clearly weren't live-aboards.
Lissey shook herself. Enough with the ridiculous fantasies. It was time to call Kirby. She shooed away one of Maria's goats and strode back into the shop, right past her mom and the new arrivals and into the kitchen. Her mobile lay on the counter beside the toasters where she'd left it.
Kirby answered on the second ring. "Wittingham."
"Good day to you, Kirby. This is Lissey on Little Casque," she chirped when he answered.
"Greetings, Luv. I haven't heard from you in ages," the deep voice replied.
Luv? An endearment reserved for women well past menopause, she'd forgotten he favored it. The man was so stuffy, he made her feel like an ancient spinster. "Well, things have been quiet lately."
"Oh? Did you have a murder yesterday?"
She laughed. He was developing a sense of humor? "Three actually. Two goats and a chicken."
There was a pause before he intoned quite seriously, "You're indulging in frivolity."
"Oh sorry."
"What is the purpose of your call?"
She took a deep breath. She was in it now, no turning back. "I'm wondering if you've had any inquiries about a kidnapped child?"
"What sort of inquiries?"
"From the American authorities?"
"The Americans are only interested in terrorists these days. Why do you ask?"
Lissey let out a breath. Nothing through official channels, that was good. Kirby could say what he wanted, but if Jake was a true kidnapper the American authorities would be after him. That yachting couple could just as easily be kidnappers. A new idea crossed her mind.
"I was curious. I met a strange couple with a small child."
"Strange how?"
She frowned. This was what she'd feared, how to concoct a convincing story that wouldn't bring Kirby crashing down on Little Casque like the leader of the Light Brigade. The new arrivals could serve as perfect foils. "They just seemed so casual with the little girl. They're looking for nightlife and apparently intend to take the child with them. And they seemed very nervous when I met them."
"Hmm. Don't you get nervous people there occasionally?"
"I suppose so, yes."
"Does the child look like the parents?"
Uh oh, very dangerous question. If she answered yes, he'd ridicule her for far too vivid an imagination. If she gave him a no, he might decide to follow up with a very unwelcome visit to her island. "Well, sort of."
He grunted. Ridicule, oh yes. "Sort of is not a clear response. When you deal with police business you must learn to be more precise."
"I hadn't really observed for that. I'l
l look again."
"That would be a wise approach."
"Thank you, Kirby," she said, anxious now to get off the phone.
"Don't get yourself into a dither over nothing, Lissey. If we receive reports of a kidnapping I'll call your mobile."
She began to breathe again. Let him think she was a flighty woman. At least for now, since it served her purposes. "Thank you, Kirby. Have a nice day."
"I will I'm sure," he announced and then her mobile went dead.
Ass.
She set the phone down and considered. What had she learned? Would the American FBI pursue a family kidnapping to the Caribbean? Would they care about a family feud? Not likely, they only cared about terrorists these days, Kirby had practically sworn to that. So, what had she proved? Not a thing. Well, at least Jake Wainright probably wasn't a terrorist.
Later in the afternoon when business quieted, Lissey sent her mom off to the beach for a refreshing swim. A few minutes later the family of vacationers came in for a snack. John and Francine McNulty and their quiet little daughter Frances. Lissey had read the names off their registration slip. They sailed a Linstrom 46, which was a big boat for just the three of them.
"Hi, how do you like our island?" Lissey asked as they took seats at a table.
"It's pretty dinky," John said.
"We'll have breakfast delivered to our boat tomorrow," Francine said.
Lissey suppressed a scowl. "We'll have," not "we'd like to have"? Jake Wainright and these people, what was this, her week for arrogance and snobs? "We don't normally deliver. I have no equipment to keep things warm."
John waved a hand, a cavalier gesture brushing aside her response. "Just bring us some pastries and coffee. I'm sure you can keep the coffee hot."
"We'll have breakfast at 7:30," Francine announced.
Lissey plastered a frozen smile on her face. Some people. It wasn't that she'd never delivered breakfast before. She had. Upon request. Polite request. She had a decision to make, one that did not please her. Anything to do with John and Francine McNulty did not please her at the moment. She could charge them an enormous price for the service they wanted. Or tell them to go to hell. But, business was business, they could pay. "That's my busy time in the morning. I'll have to hire a boat and a waitress. I—"
It was Francine's turn to brush her off, with a dismissive gesture. "Just have it there at 7:30."
Lissey turned away, her cheeks burning at the insult, only to find herself face to face with Mr. Jake Wainright.
He studied her expression for a moment, and then cocked an eyebrow. "Hi. Busy day today?"
"At the moment, no. What do you want?" she snapped.
A frown creased his brow, and then turned into a look of utter sadness before he spoke. "Can you recommend a babysitter?"
Startled by his tone and expression, Lissey caught her breath. The man's eyes looked quite subdued, not arrogant at all. He hadn't said a word to anger anyone this time, but she'd responded like a shrew. Again. Why was she always so grumpy with him?
She smiled, trying to make up for this latest outburst. "My mother babysits occasionally. When do you need her?"
His face brightened. "Tonight, around seven-thirty? I'll feed David first, so he'll be all set."
David again, not Emma. Lissey stumbled at the thought, then caught herself. They were playing his game of secrets at the moment, she had to remember that. "Where will you be? How late?"
"The Sea Horse Grill, until about ten o'clock?"
Lissey nodded. If he wanted to live it up he'd have to stay later. The fishermen hung out there early, but they didn't stay late after a long day on the water. The young crowd was the night owls. They only got started about ten.
"I'll let you know if my mother's interested."
"David and I will be on the beach for a while, then on the boat," Jake said.
"Oh, my mother's over there swimming. You can ask her yourself."
He grinned sheepishly. "I only met her for a moment. I'm not sure I'll recognize her."
"Look for Patti Mumford, the woman you were talking to yesterday. They'll be together."
"Thank you." He extended his hand. Lissey took it. His handshake was firm, yet gentle. Not macho at all, just solid, strong. Honest? She shivered. This man left her confused.
She watched him leave the shop. Only then did it occur to her. Where was Emma?
Lissey stood before the mirror in her bedroom, brushing out her long auburn locks. Auburn was a con, a polished up version of what it really was; brown and plain, drab and disheartening. It needed cutting and dyeing or something special, a beauty shop, but what difference would that make, she had no one to impress. Except she hadn't dressed for a party in ages.
Patti had come back from the beach all agog. Bruce was going to the Sea Horse and Patti would go too, of course. She wanted company. Obviously, she expected no competition from the likes of Lissey. Oh well, that didn't matter. Lissey's heart surged with a burst of pride. If she wanted Jake she sure as heck could go after him, and Patti would find herself in a battle. If she wanted him, oh, who was she kidding?
"You're a stick in the mud. Live it up a little," Patti said.
A protest formed in Lissey's mind but she swallowed it. What the heck, Maria and others of her friends hung out at the Sea Horse. She went in there periodically for a beer. What else was she going to do, stay at home and babysit with Mom?
So, dressed now in a flowered skirt and pink sleeveless top with a plunging neckline, a shell necklace that she loved, and her favorite white sandals, she was almost ready. A touch of lip-gloss and a dab of cologne completed her ablutions, and she said good-bye to her mother before opening the heavy carved front door. The scent of bougainvillea drifted in on a light breeze, right past Jake and Emma who were coming up the walk. Oops, Bruce and David, she had to remember to use the right names.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she echoed, then felt the warmth rising in her face with his approving stare. She turned quickly to call her mother to the door. Lavinia took Emma into the house.
"You're going to the Sea Horse?" Jake asked.
Lissey nodded.
He cocked an eyebrow. "We can walk together then?"
He said it as a question, asking her permission? That was sweet. She liked that, but butterflies stirring in her belly bothered her. It wouldn't do to get excited over this guy. There were too many unanswered questions about the man. No way could she dare to trust him.
"I'm joining Patti on the way."
He nodded, smiling. "Fair enough."
"Bye Mom," she called and shut the door behind her. He stepped aside, letting her go first.
"Have you had dinner yet?" he asked as they started up the road.
"Yes."
"Would you like to have a snack with me?"
An invitation, he wasn't wasting any time. "You haven't eaten?”
He shook his head. "I thought I'd try someone else's cooking tonight."
A flash of bravado caught her by the heart. What the heck, it was only a meal, part of one anyway. "Maybe I'll have a salad then."
He went silent for a moment, then asked, "Where do we snag Patti?"
"She lives close to the Sea Horse about half a mile from here."
"Good. You two are good friends?"
"Yes." A little white lie wouldn't hurt the pie, she thought and then almost giggled. That made no sense at all but it rhymed, so what the heck.
Jake cocked his head and gazed at her, his expression contemplative. "Were you born on the island?"
"No."
"Ever want to leave?"
Lissey frowned. Want to leave? Just a few zillion times lately. He couldn't read her mind, could he? Whatever, that was none of his bloody business. "A few times."
"Did you ever?"
"Ever what?" Where was he going with this? Uneasiness and excitement vied for her attention.
"Leave this island."
"No."
He let out a soft si
gh. "Is it me or are you by nature a sphinx?"
"What?" she said, startled.
"You're talking in monosyllables."
Lissey hesitated. Did she want to make a good impression? Did she care a whit what he thought? A transient, and a sly one at that. Oh damn there was that attitude again. "Where was Emma this afternoon?"
"What?"
"When you came to the shop looking for a babysitter. Where did you leave her?"
He grunted, obviously not thrilled with the question. "She was playing on the dock."
"You are a horrible father, you know that? One of these days she's going to get killed or badly hurt, the way you let her run loose."
"Damn it woman, get off my back. First of all she's a very wise child. She knows what her limits are and doesn't take silly chances. Secondly, she's learned a lot, living the way we do. And finally—she was fishing with your friend Louis while I was in with you. He agreed to keep an eye on her."
His face was red with fierce emotion, enough to make her pause. Was she over reacting? Too protective? No, damn him, she was not. If Caroline had lived she'd never be so casual with her.
The thought of Caroline brought a catch in her breath. Pain she still struggled to push aside caught her by surprise, an ache in her heart she'd tried very hard to suppress over the last five years.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "You look as though I smacked you in the mouth."
Did her face reveal her every thought, oh God. It didn't matter, she was not getting into her personal life with him. Besides which it was too hard to think about Caroline. "Never mind, I'm fine. I think your daughter needs a mother."
He blinked. "You are as changeable as a chameleon."
"Don't deny it."
"What?"
"That Emma needs a mother."
He chuckled. "You'll get no argument from me. Got anyone in mind for the job?"
"Don't be flippant. I'm serious."
"I am too. It's hard to find a wife willing to mother someone else's child when you're at sea in a small boat."
Lissey drew a deep breath. He was serious? All he wanted was a mother for Emma? Not a wife for himself though? A marriage of convenience, a woman to serve as a nanny for his daughter. That was all he cared about, only Emma. "You're horrible."
