This last statement was delivered in such an adult tone Kerry had to suppress a laugh. “Yes, it does,” she agreed, thinking that was the best course to take. Rachel was such an interesting combination of child and grown-up. She’d lived in the world of adults so much that she’d picked up their patterns of speech, but in other things, such as her passion for cinnamon doughnuts, she was all kid.
“Did you like New York?” Rachel asked.
Did she? She wondered if she could separate her memories of New York from her memories of Judd. Probably not. But she tried and came up with images of battling for a taxi, sweltering in a crowd of people sandwiched between buildings that blocked the breeze, and breathing in car exhaust. “Central Park was nice,” she said at last.
“I love Central Park. We live right across from it, you know.”
Yes, I know. “Is that right? What a great place to live.” Then she could have bitten her tongue, because Rachel’s face clouded.
“It was,” she said in a forlorn voice.
Kerry’s heart wrenched and her anger at Judd grew. Why was he tearing this child’s world apart? But she could do little more than comfort Rachel, since she was afraid that Judd’s intentions might be entirely selfish. Kerry put an arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “Ever been sailing before?”
“Nope.”
“Actually, there’s not much wind. We might have to use the motor and just chug around for a while. But that’s fun, too.” They reached the steps leading down to the weathered gray dock.
“I always wanted to go.”
Kerry surveyed the few vessels moored there. The charter fishing boats were still out, and many of the sailboats were out, too, despite the lack of wind. “I guess your grandparents don’t have a boat, then.”
“No.”
As they passed a mooring post, the gull sitting on it cocked his head at them but didn’t move. “I couldn’t afford one all by myself, so I’m glad our family shares this one. Sometimes my brothers and sisters come down and take it out, but mostly I’m the one who uses it.”
Rachel wrinkled her nose. “Smells kind of fishy around here.”
“I know. I love that smell.”
“You do?”
“Sure. My dad was a fisherman. The most fun thing in the world was going out on his boat. Well, here we are.” The Leprechaun II bobbed gently next to the dock.
“It’s cute.”
“We bought it secondhand one summer after we decided the Muldoons had always owned boats and we shouldn’t break the tradition. Besides, our dad taught us all to sail, and my brothers and sisters wanted to teach their kids.”
Rachel peered at the name and Roman numeral stenciled on the stern. “The Leprechaun II,” she read. “Was there a number one?”
“My dad’s old fishing boat, the one Mom had to sell when he died.”
“Did he drown?”
Kerry thought of Rachel’s parents. Of course she’d assume that. “No. He caught a bad cold that turned into pneumonia. He hated doctors, so by the time he went to one, it was too late.”
“How old were you?”
“Eleven.”
Rachel studied her. “I barely remember my mom and dad. Well, I call him my dad, but Judd’s really my dad now. Still I used to wish I could remember better, wish I’d been older.” She gazed at Kerry. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so good, either.”
“Oh, Rachel.” Kerry hugged her. “Everything will be okay.”
“I hope so.”
Kerry gave her another squeeze. “Now let’s get out on that water and blow all our troubles away. What do you say?”
“Yeah, let’s.”
“You stay here on the dock and I’ll get the engine started. I don’t think we’ll bother with the sails, if you don’t mind.” She glanced at the bright blue coverings that sheathed the furled sails. “It’s frustrating to try and sail with no wind.”
“If we don’t use the sails this time, can we do it next time?”
“Sure, we…” Then Kerry wondered if there would be a next time. Her days on the water were numbered. “We’ll try,” she amended, disappointed that she couldn’t promise. The idea of teaching Rachel to sail appealed to her. She’d never thought in terms of passing along her knowledge, but now she understood why her brothers and sisters were so insistent about the boat and the idea of raising another generation of sailors.
She hopped onto the deck and felt the surge of excitement at the slight roll under her feet. She rummaged in a locker and found two faded orange life vests, one adult and one child-size. She handed one up to Rachel and put the other on. “This is the first rule on the Leprechaun,” she said, repeating a line her father had used. “Nobody rides without a life jacket.”
The motor started easily. Her brothers had tinkered with it when they were down over the Fourth of July. Kerry glanced back to where Rachel stood, her life jacket strapped on, her face aglow with anticipation. “See those two lines looped around the moorings?” she directed. “Lift those off.”
Rachel struggled a little with the task, but she managed. Kerry realized Rachel was almost the same age she herself had been when she took her first trip alone with her father. She could pretend she was carrying on the tradition with Rachel.
“Now, be very careful and hop down to the deck,” Kerry said, holding the chugging boat as steady as possible. The leap was pretty easy, compared to the one she’d had to make to get onto her father’s much larger fishing boat. But she watched Rachel’s every movement, aware of her responsibility for the child’s safety.
Rachel jumped like a pro and grinned at Kerry. “Anchors aweigh!”
“You bet, sailor.” She steered out into the river channel, waving at passing boats as she pointed the prow of the Leprechaun toward the open sea.
Rachel stood beside her, her earlier pallor gone. “This is neat.”
“Sure is.” Kerry took a deep breath of the salty air. She should have done this earlier in the week, but there had been so much to do, so many people to talk with, wedding receptions to play for, replacement singers to interview. She had to train one of the guys to handle the bookings from now on, and none of them much wanted the job. She hadn’t realized how the stress was affecting her until now, when the knots in her stomach loosened with the gentle movement of the boat’s prow through the water.
She came to the mouth of the river and increased speed a little. Her hair lifted back and away from her face. She glanced at Rachel, who leaned forward and smiled. The breeze created by their movement was teasing her hair out of its careful braid. “Your hair will come undone,” Kerry warned. “You can sit down on the deck where it’s less windy, if you—”
“Are you kidding? I love this,” Rachel said, lifting her chin. “If I had a boat like this, I’d be out in it all the time.”
“Not in the winter, you wouldn’t,” Kerry said. “My dad used to, because it was his job, but I’m too much of a wimp to come out here then. One of my brothers always comes down in October, and we put the Leprechaun in dry dock.”
“And take it out in the spring?”
“Right. We make a party of it, and everybody who’s free comes down to help paint and get it ready for the season.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It is. I usually pester my brothers to get the boat ready earlier and earlier every year.” Kerry’s reminiscing came to a halt as she realized that she wouldn’t be here in October to take the boat out of the water, nor was she likely to be around in the spring when the boat was repainted and returned to the water.
Rachel turned around and looked back at the town. “Eternity looks like a diorama I made once for school,” she said. “And there’s the lighthouse. Can we go down that way?”
Kerry obediently turned the Leprechaun’s prow in that direction. Her life seemed to be circumvented by lighthouses these days, but she liked this route, too. She liked lighthouses, as a matter of fact. When she’d heard why Judd had renamed his record company, she’d liked th
em even better.
Rachel slipped her arm around Kerry’s waist. “Thanks for taking me for a boat ride,” she said, glancing up shyly through her lashes.
Kerry hugged her with her free hand. “My extreme pleasure.” She couldn’t imagine why Judd would send this girl away. If Rachel were Kerry’s daughter, she’d cherish every moment spent with her.
* * *
JUDD WASN’T SATISFIED with the way Rachel had taken his decision that she move permanently to her grandparents’ house. He’d expected some resistance, but he’d planned to stay firm. He thought that once Rachel got used to the idea, she’d be fine. He hadn’t thought it would take more than a couple of days, and surely she’d be acclimated to the idea by the end of the week.
But when he phoned this morning Rachel had sounded distant and unhappy. He hadn’t meant to drive to Eternity this weekend; work was really piling up after Kerry had played havoc with his schedule and concentration the week before. But he had to make sure Rachel was adjusting to the idea of living in Eternity.
He’d also decided she’d feel better with more of her things with her, so he’d loaded the car with some of her favorite stuffed animals, a few games and some warmer clothes for school. Ignoring the stack of messages on his desk, he’d left the office early and driven up to Massachusetts to surprise her.
When no one answered the door at the Woodhouses, he figured they might have gone for a drive, or even out to dinner. Maybe that was better. He had his own key, and now he’d have time to unload the stuff and arrange it in Rachel’s room. As he’d packed the car he’d kept a tight lid on his emotions. In fact, he’d been doing that ever since he’d left Kerry on Saturday. He couldn’t allow his own selfish feelings to screw up the lives of two people who meant the world to him.
With a koala bear and a skunk under one arm, he let himself in the front door. After taking the stuffed animals up to Rachel’s vibrantly colored room, he came downstairs and had started out the door when he noticed a note on the hall table:
Rachel—Grandpa and I should be back from clamming before five, but if we’re a little late, you can have a few of the bing cherries if you’re hungry.
Love, Grandma
Judd glanced at his watch. It was nearly five. Rachel walked to her piano lesson and back, but even factoring in her time doing that, she should be home by now. He felt a flash of concern that Stella and Allen weren’t here, waiting for her, but he told himself that was because he thought like a New Yorker, not like a resident of Eternity. Rachel was almost ten. She could handle being alone for less than an hour, considering that a lot of people in Eternity didn’t even lock their doors.
Still, Rachel ought to be here by now. Maybe he should check the answering machine, in case she’d called.
The red light was blinking, and he pushed the button to hear the single message. Sure enough, Rachel’s voice was on the recording:
“Hi, Grandma and Grandpa. Rachel’s taking me for a ride in her sailboat. I know Daddy doesn’t want me on boats, but I didn’t think you and Grandpa would mind, and I guess you’re in charge of me now. Kerry says we’ll be back around five. Bye.”
16
KERRY AND RACHEL were laughing over the antics of a gull who seemed determined they had food for him. The gull followed them upriver, squawking in protest as they drew closer to the dock and he still hadn’t been fed.
“Don’t we have anything to throw to him?” Rachel asked.
“He’s tough out of luck,” Kerry said with a chuckle.
“Well, next time I’m gonna— Uh-oh.”
“What?” A smile still on her face, Kerry looked down at Rachel.
“There’s Dad.”
Kerry glanced at the dock and saw him standing there, feet apart, fists on his hips, his back as stiff as the mast jutting upward from the Leprechaun. He looked threatening. And exciting. Her heart skipped into a faster rhythm. “What’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know, but he’s gonna be mad.”
“Why?”
“He’s never let me go out on a boat before.”
Kerry’s mouth went dry. “Why not?” But she knew the reason. It was illogical, but she could imagine the way Judd might think after what had happened to Rachel’s parents.
“He doesn’t want me to get drowned,” Rachel explained unnecessarily.
“Well, you didn’t.” She veered the boat around to back it into the slip. She was good at docking a boat, but her hands shook and she had to make two tries. The whole time she was aware of Judd maintaining that imposing stance, glaring at the Leprechaun as if he’d like to snatch it and its occupants from the water with his bare hands.
“Throw your father the mooring lines,” she said to Rachel as she eased the boat into position. “As long as he’s here, he may as well help.”
“Here, Dad. Catch,” Rachel said, tossing him a line.
Kerry glanced over her shoulder and saw his expert catch, his catlike grace as he secured the boat. Zorba had obviously taught him well. She wished Zorba had also convinced him not to blame the sea for taking his brother’s life. Rachel was a natural sailor, and if he insisted on keeping her away from boats… But who was he to insist on anything? Her earlier anger returned, redoubled by this new evidence of Judd’s arrogance. He was sending Rachel away, yet he claimed the right to dictate her life from afar. Just who the hell did he think he was?
By the time she’d turned off the motor and removed her life jacket, she was ready for battle. She stowed her life jacket and Rachel’s in the storage locker, her hands shaking with rage. Judd coaxed people to love him—Rachel, and then her—but he didn’t have any staying power, no backbone for the long haul. Kerry’s need to protect Rachel overrode any concern for her own emotional well-being. Judd had to be set straight.
Judd helped Rachel up to the dock and turned to offer Kerry his hand. She ignored it, put her hand on the stern of the Leprechaun and vaulted smoothly to the dock.
“Now that you’re both safely on land—” Judd began.
“Don’t even start.” Kerry stepped forward and lifted her chin in defiance. “I know just what you’re going to say, and you can save your breath. Because if what Rachel tells me is true and you’re shipping her down here permanently, you’d better give up this idiotic notion about keeping her off boats.”
“I don’t want her out on the water!” His topaz eyes blazed, leonine and imperious.
“She’s a born sailor. You have no right to keep her from an environment she fits into perfectly. Especially if you’re going to dangle the ocean and boats in front of her nose while you live your swinging bachelor existence in New York!”
His jaw clenched. “I’m not living—” He threw his hands in the air and spun away from her. “Why am I explaining anything to you? This is none of your concern.”
She’d heard that love and hate were two sides of the same coin. Now she understood. “The hell it isn’t! Sorry, Rachel. Would you like to walk up the dock a ways so your father and I can fight?”
“I want to listen.” She stood, eyes wide, glancing from Judd’s face to Kerry’s.
“Rachel, take a hike,” Judd said.
“I never get in on anything.” Head down, Rachel scuffed along to the foot of the dock.
“All right, Judd Roarke.” Kerry faced him, her feet planted apart as his had been. “You told me we couldn’t have a relationship because your spare time belonged to that wonderful girl down there. So what’s this latest idiocy?”
His tone was low and ominous. “As I said, it’s not your concern.”
“If you mean the part where you lied to me about your priorities, I guess you’re right. It’s a creative way to dump an unwanted element in your life, but if you want to use Rachel as an excuse to get rid of me, that’s your problem.”
“I told you the truth, dammit!”
“Ah, but now the truth has changed a bit, hasn’t it?”
“I don’t want to discuss this with you. Rachel and I are going
home now.” He turned to leave.
“To which home, Judd? Fact is, she doesn’t believe she has one anymore.”
He paused.
“That’s right. She thinks the reason you’re pushing her to live in Eternity is that you don’t want her anymore.”
“She can’t think that.” His voice had a note of anguish she hadn’t heard before.
“She can think anything she wants, Judd. She’s an individual, with a right to her own thoughts. She told me some of them this afternoon. I don’t know what your twisted reasons for your decision to have her live here are, but you’re breaking her heart.”
“She doesn’t understand what’s best—”
“For her? Or for you?”
“For God’s sake, she’s only nine!”
“That’s old enough to understand rejection,” Kerry said quietly.
“Oh, hell.” Judd whirled away from her and strode toward the foot of the dock. When he reached Rachel, he put an arm around her shoulders and led her to his car, parked next to the landing.
Kerry watched them drive away, her vision blurred with tears. She also understood rejection, and it hurt more than she thought she could bear.
* * *
RATHER THAN PLAY the tape of her song for anyone in town, Rachel decided to teach it to the First Congregational church choir and have them perform it on Sunday morning. She called a special rehearsal for Saturday afternoon and within an hour the group had it. Sure, the rendition had its flaws. Patience Powell, Aunt June’s sister, always pitched her voice an octave above everyone else, and she didn’t carry the tune with much skill. Louis Bertrand kept forgetting the words because he was too busy winking at whatever woman happened to catch his eye.
Overall, though, Kerry was satisfied with the results. She liked the church choir’s version a heck of a lot better than the one that had come out of Lighthouse’s studio. And the choir members loved the song. They made her tell them the story of the nanny in Central Park at least four times.
“It’s a love song, of course,” Louis, the old rou;aae, said slyly.
Wedding Song Page 16
