Safe Harbor

by Jennifer Moore

  She’d agonized long and hard over what about her drew the “hero” type. And concluded her shyness and slight stature were like a beacon to men certain she needed to be watched over. Her habit of listening and observing, instead of talking, must seem like uncertainty. Then before she knew it, someone else was in control. Thinking they were babying her, the men took charge and took over.

  Melanie was tired of being dominated. She was twenty-five years old, and in her entire life, she had hardly made a decision for herself. Until a month ago when she finally got up the nerve, and she left.

  But running away was for kids. So, why couldn’t she just move to a town and get a regular job without having to sneak away in the middle of the night, leaving her credit cards and social security number behind, lie about her name, and find a job that paid her “under the table?” She knew exactly why: image. The only thing that mattered to her parents.

  Her entire life had been about keeping up appearances. Wearing the right clothes, having the right friends, attending the best prep school and university. Maintaining the persona chosen for her. Smiling for the cameras, acting like the all-around perfect daughter.

  The one time she’d done something without asking for permission—joining the girls’ softball team at her prep school—had sent her father through the roof. Not being one for confrontation, Melanie had gone along with his wishes and quit. She’d never owned a pet, gone camping, or been to a high school dance. Everything in her life had followed someone else’s agenda, and with another campaign season on the horizon, Melanie’d had enough.

  She tiptoed to the door, pressed her ear against it, but she couldn’t hear anything. Was Seth still asleep? Had he left? Slowly, she turned the knob, startling at the click when it unlocked, and peeked out. The sun rose early in the summer in Maine. In the soft light filtering through her airy curtains, she could see a pair of stockinged feet on the arm of the couch.

  She pulled open the door wider and took a cautious step, and then another, praying the floor wouldn’t creak.

  The feet didn’t move. She peeked over the back of the couch and couldn’t contain her grin.

  Seth slept with one arm flung over his face, and the other holding her bear to his chest. His mouth was open, and he breathed deeply but didn’t snore.

  She pulled her gaze away before he woke up and saw her watching. And her glance landed on two magazines on the floor. They must have gotten pushed off the coffee table in the confusion of the night before. The sight of her father’s face on the cover of Politicians Weekly jolted her. She crept around the couch and lifted the magazine, not wanting Seth to browse through it and see a picture of the senator’s family. She hurried back to her room, crammed the magazine into the trash can, grabbed a change of clothes, and darted into the bathroom.

  The last time she’d seen her father he’d been the polar opposite of the smiling, handsome senator on the magazine cover.

  A month earlier after Sunday dinner, Chuck, her dad’s campaign manager, had come over to discuss the game plan for the upcoming election. He’d been worried Senator Rutherford’s rating had slipped in the polls. He thought a special interest story about the senator’s personal life that voters could relate with would give just the boost he needed.

  Chuck had recommended that Melanie should have a boyfriend. The paparazzi would, of course, take shots of the couple dating and sharing intimate moments. They would arrange an engagement in a beautiful setting just before the primaries. Then to cap it all off, an interview with the senator where he became choked up talking about seeing his baby girl as a bride would appeal to every constituent.

  Chuck even had the perfect guy picked out—Graham Stewart, heir to his father’s pharmaceutical company and manager of a children’s charitable organization.

  Melanie had met Graham once or twice, and from their few conversations, she was sure he had aspirations to a political office himself.

  She listened to Chuck’s plan, maintaining a pleasant face and nodding as she knew she was supposed to. But inside, her stomach burned like acid. Once Chuck had left, she confronted her parents in her father’s study, hands on hips, leaning forward. “You honestly want me to get engaged to Graham Stewart? To pretend I’m in love with him so you can win another election?”

  Her father remained in his seat behind his desk and motioned with a jerk of his head to his wife. A feminine outburst was a job for her to handle.

  Donna crossed the room, smoothing back her thick blonde hair, and put an arm around Melanie’s shoulders. “You won’t need to pretend. He comes from such a respectable family, and don’t you think he’s handsome?”

  Melanie’s head felt light. “Mom, I don’t even like Graham. And this expectation is too much. I can’t fake an engagement.”

  Her mother turned to face her, brushing the hair off Melanie’s forehead. She furrowed her brow as she shook her head. “Oh, Melanie. Honey.”

  The sympathetic look didn’t fool Melanie at all. Her mother had never been one for tenderness. And she didn’t pull off the motherly concern tone at all.

  “You are old enough to start thinking about these things. We don’t want people to wonder why the senator’s daughter is still single. They might think there’s something…unusual…about you.” She frowned, her lip pouting. “And we can’t have that.”

  Her words made Melanie’s shoulders clench like someone had taken a rake to a chalkboard. “Isn’t it enough that I’ve done this my entire life? Every single outfit I’ve worn, party I’ve gone to, friend I’ve had, has been chosen for me—for him.” She pointed to her father.

  He rose and leaned his palms on the desk, narrowing his eyes in a look of warning.

  But now that she’d started, Melanie couldn’t stop. “This is going too far. You’d really give away my future, sell me to a man, just to win a few votes?”

  Her mother gasped.

  “How dare you?” Her father’s voice boomed through the room. “You selfish girl. This is for our family—for all of us.”

  Melanie flinched. She lowered her head. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to apologize and hide. But she had to do this now, or never. She held up her head. “No, Dad. This is for you. Everything’s always been for you.”

  Her mind was so lost in the memory that she didn’t realize she was crying until a sob choked out of her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth, hoping Seth hadn’t heard it. Leaning her head back, she let the stream of water wash off her tears while she rinsed out the shampoo.

  The memory of how her father had grabbed her arm and shaken her while he yelled until he was red in the face made her sob again. She remembered every horrible thing he’d said. The insults, the curses. And her mother had just watched. Let him hurt and berate her only daughter.

  Melanie had realized if she stayed in this life, she was on course to end up just like her mother. Nodding, smiling for the camera, never having an opinion, and doing whatever she was told.

  So Melanie left.

  Finding her way alone was so much harder than she’d thought. She had to keep reminding herself that she was doing the right thing, but the truth was, she missed her home and her nice things, she even missed her mother—but not her father. Just seeing his face on the television, and the magazine cover made her stomach clench.

  She knew he was searching for her. Even though he didn’t make the search public. Of course he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t ever reveal anything that might hurt his reputation. For all he knew, Melanie was lying in a morgue somewhere, but he wouldn’t let word get out that she was gone. That didn’t work out for his happy family man scenario.

  Getting out was the first major decision she’d ever made. And she was never going back. Never.

  And now, of course she was attracted to the same kind of person. Cocky, rich. She could tell Seth Goodwyn came from money. His gold watch that was probably a graduation present, the expensive polo shirt and deck shoes he wore so casually. As a doctor, he held an influential posi
tion in the town, and she wanted nothing to do with a high-profile, powerful person. In her experience, money didn’t equal freedom. Exactly the opposite. And she was done being controlled.

  Besides he was a Red Sox fan. And that was just gross.

  Once she’d regained control of her emotions, she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She blow-dried her hair, got dressed, and put on some mascara before opening the bathroom door.

  Seth waved from the kitchen table. “Mornin’, sunshine!” He’d poured himself a bowl of cereal and set out another bowl for Melanie.

  The flash of his smile sent a ripple through her stomach. “Good morning.” She turned away so he couldn’t see her reaction, throwing her night clothes into her bedroom. Her blush had subsided by the time she joined him, tying on her blue barista apron. “How did you sleep?”

  “Great, considering my sleeping companion.” He pointed toward the Jeter bear sitting on the arm of the couch.

  Melanie didn’t tell him that it looked as though he and furry Jeter had gotten along perfectly well. She wouldn’t let it slip that she’d peeked at him while he was sleeping. The thought threatened to bring back the blush. “I’m glad.”

  “Can I make you breakfast?” He motioned with his spoon to the cereal box.

  “No, thank you. I’ll get something at work.” She rubbed her arms and remained standing. Somehow sitting down to breakfast with him felt too intimate.

  “I’ll make some calls and get your door fixed. Okay if I hang around here today?”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s my day off. I’ll grab my computer from my car and catch up on some stuff. You have a Wi-Fi password?”

  “No, sorry.”

  He glanced at the doorframe and squinted. “How about a tape measure?”

  She shook her head.

  “I bet I can get one downstairs.”

  “Thanks.” Melanie looked at the clock on the wall. “I need to go.” She grabbed her purse, and the discomfort of the situation—Seth eating breakfast in her kitchen, sending her off to work, and acting so at ease with the entire thing—made looking him in the eyes impossible.

  “I’ll see ya later?”

  “I’ll bring over your Caffe Americano on my break.” She spoke over her shoulder as she pulled away the chair blocking the door and hurried outside.

  Melanie’s heart was rushing as she crossed the street and cut through the corner of the park by the community center. She needed to get ahold of herself and remember that Seth Goodwyn was completely wrong for her. The resolution was difficult to remember when his smile kept floating to the surface of her thoughts.

  Chapter Two

  Seth watched the door swing behind Melanie. He rinsed off the cereal bowl, put the milk into the fridge, and made a call to the hardware store, looking for a handyman to repair the doorframe. After a few more phone calls, he had an appointment to meet “Willie” in an hour.

  He folded the blanket he’d used and straightened the pillows on the couch, rolling his eyes when he looked at Melanie’s teddy bear. Jeter, really?

  He thought about Melanie’s quick departure and wondered what had changed. Last night, he felt like he’d broken through her defenses and seen just a flash of the real Melanie. But this morning, her wall was back in place, and he didn’t understand why.

  Maybe he could attribute it to catching her by surprise, but her reserve had felt like more than that. They’d connected—even if it was briefly. For a few moments, she laughed and joked, and he saw a completely different side. How could he get back there? How could he find the real Melanie again?

  Walking around her apartment, he realized that, other than the Yankee teddy bear, nothing personal was here. No pictures, no books, no calendar on the wall. Not even a computer. He remembered seeing a few magazines the night before, and he found a monthly sports periodical in a jumble under the coffee table. He smoothed it out and smiled at the cover—of course, it was a special Derek Jeter issue.

  Baseball—even if it was Yankee baseball—was one thing he knew Melanie loved. He glanced under the coffee table for the other magazine, certain there had been two. He looked behind the couch and wondered if Melanie had moved it during the night. Had she come out of her room while he was asleep? The thought sent heat over his skin. He didn’t hate the idea.

  Glancing once more around the space, he stepped toward Melanie’s bedroom door. Now that he wasn’t chasing an imaginary attacker, looking in her room felt like an invasion of privacy. But she had left him in her apartment alone, hadn’t she?

  From the doorway, he glanced around the room, seeing nothing but her bed, a dresser, and the closet he’d thrown open the night before. The starkness of her private space reinforced what he’d already concluded. Melanie was hiding. She’d run away from a dangerous situation, taking nothing but her clothing. He brushed aside the hanging clothes, noting the name brands. Her clothes were expensive. What kind of life had she left behind? And why?

  The surge of protectiveness he always felt when he thought about Melanie being afraid or hurt returned with a strength that surprised him. She needed him, and if he could learn how to help her, he needed to find out what she was hiding from.

  He turned, and something caught his eye, the magazine he’d seen the night before was in the trashcan next to the door. Fishing it out, he studied the cover. Senator Rutherford of Illinois. Was Melanie interested in politics, as well as baseball?

  Leaning against the doorframe, he thumbed through the issue, studying pictures of Senator Rutherford during his various campaigns and terms in Washington. He turned a page and froze. The picture’s caption indicated the senator’s family was vacationing at a ski cabin in Colorado. He leaned against a wooden railing with his wife and daughter. Even though most of her hair was covered by a ski cap, and she was a few years younger, Seth had no doubt. Melanie Owen was really Melanie Rutherford.

  Melanie’s father was one of the most powerful men in America.

  He searched the article carefully, piecing together what he could about Melanie. She’d attended private schools and an Ivy League University, worked as a docent at the Art Institute of Chicago, and served on the boards of various charities.

  No mention was made of a boyfriend or a husband. Why had this woman left her privileged life to live in a run-down apartment and work as a barista in a small New England fishing town?

  He returned the magazine to the trash and sat on the couch, turning over the bear in his hands without really noticing.

  Seth’s entire view of Melanie flipped completely around. She wasn’t a woman without resources or education, but she’d been raised in elite circles. She’d attended the very finest schools the country had to offer, and she had the ability to go anywhere or do anything she wanted. So, what had happened to make her run from all of this?

  A knock sounded, shaking Seth out of his contemplations.

  “Looks like ya got a busted door.” A short man with thick dark hair and a tool belt stood in the doorway.

  “You must be Willie.” Seth crossed the room and shook his hand. “Thanks for coming.”

  Willie bent down and peered at the splintered wood. He pulled a tape measure from his tool belt and stretched it from the floor to the top of the doorway, muttering to himself. “Door’s standard size. Job won’t take more than a few hours.”

  “No problem. Will you be able to get it done today?”

  “Yah, sure, sure.” Willie wrote something down on a notepad. “Just gotta make a run to the lumber yard, and I’ll get started.”

  Sitting back on the couch, Seth tried to make sense of what he’d discovered. Why would Melanie keep her identity a secret? What had happened to her?

  He thought through what he knew about the woman. Not much, he realized as he glanced around the apartment once more on his way outside.

  Stopping at Murphy’s Bar, he got the Wi-Fi password from David Hu, and then crossed the street to the cl
inic’s parking lot for his computer bag.

  Once he was back at Melanie’s kitchen table, he opened his laptop and started his investigation. Entering the name Melanie Rutherford brought up articles about the senator. He scanned through for information about his daughter, but he didn’t find much more than he’d read in the magazine article.

  Clicking on the “images” tab, he found picture after picture of Melanie, college graduation, family vacations, giving a speech, attending a charity function with her parents.

  The Melanie in the pictures surprised him. She appeared poised, collected, immaculately dressed, with not a hair out of place. Having met her and knowing she tended to be less showy and more reserved, he wondered if the photos had been posed.

  Though he did not know Melanie well, the fact that no baseball paraphernalia appeared in any pictures stuck out like a neon sign. The only thing he’d known her to feel any excitement about was conspicuously missing from over a hundred images.

  The door creaked open.

  Seth shut his laptop and stood when he saw Melanie enter. He took the offered cup from her, hoping his expression looked innocent. “Thanks. I didn’t know Sang Freud’s delivers.”

  She handed him a box. “It’s a blueberry scone. Not your usual, but I thought you might like it.”

  He lifted the cardboard lid, peeking inside. “Smells terrific.” He took a bite. “Mmmm. You must be psychic.” He wiped crumbs from the corner of his mouth.” This is seriously the best scone I’ve ever had. I should have been asking you all along for recommendations, instead of sticking with the chocolate chip muffins.”

  Seeing Melanie’s soft smile, Seth thought how nice that she didn’t just spout empty words. She spoke if there was something to say, but didn’t chatter to fill the silence. “Willie the handyman is on his way with supplies. He thinks your door will be repaired in just a few hours.”