Sydell Voeller Special Edition

by Sydell Voeller

  More silence.

  The sun shone hot against her shoulders. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. A few trailers away, people mingled outside. She heard a woman's laughter. There were the normal sounds of circus children playing. Yet no signs of Michael anywhere.

  Turning on her heel, she started back for the center of the circus grounds. As Lisa drew nearer, she spied Estelle emerging from the menagerie tent. She was wearing a blue and white floral tank top and cutoff jeans.

  "Lisa!" Estelle's mouth dropped open at the sight of her. "When did you get back? Did Claudette manage to catch up with you? Did Michael, too?"

  "Michael? What are you talking about?"

  "Michael took off for the airport about an hour ago to find you. He thought there was still time. He assumed you wouldn't be leaving for couple of days yet...just like I did. Anyway, this morning after I came back and found your note, I rushed over to his trailer to tell him. He...he's trying to stop you from leaving."

  "Oh, no," Lisa puffed, pausing to catch her breath. "He's got to be crazy. How does he ever expect to find me in a place like that?"

  "I gave him your flight information," Estelle confessed. "He's hoping against all hope he'll track down both you and Claudette there." Estelle's eyes grew round. "My brother was nearly going crazy, worrying about Claudette's condition, longing to be with you, wanting to finally tell you the whole, miserable story. But Claudette insisted she tell you first."

  "I've got go find him!" Lisa exclaimed. "Will you drive me back to the airport? Please Estelle?"

  "Don't you think it'd make more sense to wait right here? When Michael doesn't track find you, he'll undoubtedly head straight back."

  "Maybe so. But what if, instead, he tries to catch a flight in hopes of following me?" Lisa shook her head. "We can't wait! This could turn out to be the fiasco of the century!"

  "All right. My van's unlocked. I'll meet you there in five minutes."

  In no time, Estelle had disappeared from view, and Lisa, her knees still trembling in the wake of the morning's revelation, turned and hurried towards the van.

  "Lisa!"

  She whirled around, her gaze locking with Michael's. Instant relief swept across his handsome face. "Lisa!" he called again. Arms flung wide, he broke into a run, closing the space between them.

  "Oh, Michael," she cried, running to meet him. "I thought I'd never see you again...I thought it was good-bye forever."

  "Thank goodness Claudette managed to stop you," he murmured huskily, enveloping her in his eager embrace. "I just talked to her. She told me all about it." Tenderly he twined her hair through his hands. She could feel his solid warmth and strength, hear his heart beating against her ear.

  "Yes, thank goodness," she said through tears of joy. She pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. The breeze ruffled his hair, tossing a stray lock across his tanned forehead. Now more than ever, he looked so wonderfully vibrant and alive.

  She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Michael. Dreadfully sorry. I was wrong to have said all those terrible things. About your promise to your father, about Ebony, and you...especially about you."

  "It's all right, darling."

  "But I should've realized that things aren't always as they may appear. It wasn't fair of me to jump to those conclusions."

  "Doesn't matter anymore," he ground out fiercely. "All that matters is that you know and understand...and now you've come back." Eyes brimming with love, he pulled her to him again, crushed her against his broad chest and kissed her long and hard.

  Shimmers of pleasure coursed through her as she twined her arms around his neck and answered his kiss. She lost all track of place and time. Michael was really here. Here in her arms. Never in a million years could she have envisioned such happiness.

  His voice was ragged when he finally released her. "I can't believe this is really happening. I...I was afraid I'd never see you again too. Darling, I'm so sorry. So sorry I couldn't tell you the truth before now. I...I was torn. Miserable and torn. Torn between my love for you and my concern for my twin sister."

  She ran both her hands through his thick head of blond hair, reveling in his closeness. "And how could I blame you, Michael? What a predicament. And poor Claudette. If only I'd had an inkling of what she must've been going through. I can't believe how brave she's been."

  "Yes, Claudette has been brave, but I admit at times she had a strange way of showing it. I promise you, Lisa, from now on, there'll be no more secrets in the Figaro family--no matter how noble the reasons. It's not worth the possible misunderstandings. It's not worth what could've happened between you and me." As he cupped her face in his hands, kept his eyes fixed on hers, his expression suddenly darkened. "You are staying, aren't you?"

  Her answer came in scarcely a breath. "Yes, Michael. That is, if you want me to."

  "If I want you to?" He tipped back his head and chuckled, then traced a finger down her cheek, bringing it to rest tenderly on her lips. "Oh, yes, I want you to all right. I love you, Lisa. I want you with me always. Please say you'll join my family and become my wife. And maybe someday, if you want it, too, we could start making plans to have our own little family." His eyes sparkled mischievously as he smiled down at her and added, "Don't forget, darling. Twins run in the blood line."

  Her heart was overflowing with happiness. "Oh, Michael! I love you, too. I think I always have, from the very first day we met."

  "So you're saying yes? You'll marry me?"

  Fresh tears of joy sprang to her eyes. "Of course, Michael! Oh, yes...yes!"

  There, right in front of Doc Woodstock, the cage boys, the riggers, the animal trainers and others who'd quickly congregated to watch, Michael swept Lisa up in his arms, whirled her around, then kissed her again.

  In the background, a ripple of applause grew louder. Then came the whistles and cheers.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages!" someone called out above the noise. "You are now witnessing the greatest show on earth!"

  The End

  The Fisherman’s Daughter

  Chapter One

  Sea spray cooled Vanessa Paris's cheeks as she gazed from the ferry across the froth-tipped waves of Puget Sound. Missing. The words gouged deep into her mind. How could Dad have disappeared from his small fishing boat without leaving a clue? The desperate call from Clinton Paris, her father's brother, had come only last night.

  That morning she'd hastily arranged for a leave-of-absence at the university in Seattle where she taught as an assistant professor in the psychology department. The afternoon drive up the Interstate to the ferry terminal had seemed to take forever. At last she was almost home.

  Raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she watched the approaching craggy shore, edged with a saw tooth line of dark evergreens. Tawanya Island. The northern-most of the San Juan Islands. Her childhood home.

  Thoughts of her father resurfaced and a pang shot through her. What if he was never found? What if he'd fallen overboard, was knocked unconscious, and sank beneath the frigid waters?

  Vanessa gave a quick shake of her head. No--that just couldn't happen. Dad was an expert fisherman. He'd always believed in his abilities, just as he'd taught her to believe in hers. Everyone on the entire island agreed that Eldon Paris was a master of the sea. Nearly every day at the Kaloch Bay Lodge, owned and operated by her father and uncle, Dad would fire up the engine of the “Lady Luck” and welcome the hopeful tourists who'd signed on for his guided fishing expeditions.

  Overhead, a seagull screeched, momentarily breaking into her anxious thoughts. The last rays of an early summer sun were quickly fading beyond the horizon. In the distance, white sails billowed against the sky.

  Vanessa lifted her chin. Yes, Dad would want her to be brave. She was not only homeward bound, but bound in her love for him. She had no choice but to unravel the mystery of his disappearance...

  * * *

  “Are you sure Dad left alone?" Vanessa questioned her uncle after exchanging q
uick hugs. She followed Clinton through the hall foyer and into the rustic lobby of Kaloch Bay Lodge. “Why didn't he go with Matt Redding? They've fished together for at least fifteen years now."

  “Matt couldn't go with him. Your pop left two days ago at the crack of dawn--and I'm sure he was alone. Said he wanted some time for a day of trawling and he'd be back no later than seven."

  She ran a trembling hand through her auburn hair and shook her head. “Dad should've never done it. He's got a heart condition."

  “That's not the way Eldon sees it," he replied. “As long as his old ticker keeps on a tickin', your pop's gonna do exactly as he pleases. And you, my dear niece--in all your 25 years of livin'--you should know him as well as I do." Clinton stooped to stoke up the embers in the huge stone fireplace, then tossed on another log.

  “I'm afraid you're right." As the flames sputtered and crackled, warmth wrapped around her, yet it failed to thaw the icy cold fear deep inside of her. She sank into her favorite leather armchair as her uncle seated himself across from her.

  “It's not that he wouldn't have welcomed Matt's company," Clinton went on. “Lately Eldon's been complainin' that Matt's been too damned busy for his own good--"

  A commotion in the foyer interrupted him and he rose wearily. “Probably another one of those Coast Guard investigators or maybe someone from the sheriff's department. They've been dropping in all day. Oh, it's not that I don't appreciate what they're trying to do, mind you. It's just that they keep asking the same questions over and over." He patted her shoulder. “Hold on, kiddo. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  She sprang up. “Wait! I'm coming too."

  By the time she arrived in the foyer, her uncle and two blue uniformed Coast Guard officers were engaged in intense conversation. The taller man appeared to be in his early twenties, the other closer to middle-age.

  “We've found Mr. Paris's boat up near the North Spit and immediately mounted a search," the older officer was saying. “The engine was still idling, the autopilot switched on and the refrigerator fully stocked." He slanted a glance at Clinton. “Can you tell me about your brother's emotional state? Was he depressed? Acting strange?"

  “Dad's no different than anyone else," Vanessa broke in. “Oh, by the way, I'm Vanessa Paris, his only daughter. What I'm trying to say is, he may have his ups and downs sometimes, but who doesn't?" If they were considering that Dad had purposefully drowned himself, they were wrong. Dad's robust love of life would never give way to suicide.

  “What about his heart medication?" she continued. “Did you find it on board?"

  “Yes," he answered. “The two half-empty bottles were uncapped, sitting on the galley table."

  Vanessa brushed back a tear. The picture of her father's deserted boat was too much to bear. If he had left it, knowing he'd be gone for more than a day, why didn't he take his pills with him?

  “Did my brother radio in a Mayday?" Clinton asked.

  “No sir. None at all."

  Several lodge guests gathered around, yet as Vanessa's attention narrowed on the younger officer's next words, the guests' faces blurred into obscurity. “We've suspended the search for the night, but will continue sending out more helicopters and cutters tomorrow. In the meantime, we're holding Mr. Paris's boat at our operations center on Bradshaw Island. We'll let you know as soon as anything turns up."

  “Is there anything we can do?" Vanessa pleaded. Though just being back on the island made her feel closer to her father, she knew that wasn't enough. She must get involved with the search. And if the authorities weren't about to suggest a way, she'd find her own.

  The best thing you can do is stand by for further questioning," the other officer answered. “We have a very competent search and rescue team. Rest assured we're doing everything possible." With that, the two men made a hasty exit out the door.

  The telephone in the office jangled, and Clinton dashed to answer it as Vanessa wandered back into the lobby to escape the curious stares of the guests. Maybe tomorrow she could face them, but not yet. Fatigue weighted her feet.

  A blast of cool air gusted from the back of the room. Turning on her heel, Vanessa stared at the tall, well-built masculine figure that filled the doorway leading onto the deck.

  “Lowell Maxwell!" she exclaimed. Recognition rocked her. She reached quickly to clasp the back of a chair in an effort to steady herself. Eleven years ago, he and her older brother, Andrew, had been the best of friends. Lowell had spent many a weekend hanging out with Andy here at the lodge--and Vanessa, completely smitten by Lowell's blond good looks, had invented every excuse imaginable to try to get his attention.

  “Yep....it's been a long time, hasn't it? I was standing outside," he said huskily. His gaze locked with hers. “I couldn't help overhearing your conversation. How’re you doing, Vanessa? Are you holding up okay?"

  “Yes...no." Her heart raced as she groped for a sane reply. Lowell had grown more handsome than she'd ever dreamed possible. He stood tall, broad-shouldered and powerfully masculine. But she mustn't let him get to her, she quickly cautioned herself.

  No, she simply must not.

  People you loved, people you trusted, only ended up dying.

  “The news about Dad came as quite a shock, of course," she finally continued, taking a cautious step backward. “Somehow I keep telling myself there must be some mistake. That they mistook Dad's boat for someone else's. That any moment now he'll appear out of nowhere." She sighed, blinking rapidly to keep from crying. “And what about you, Lowell? Are you here on vacation?"

  “I'm not a guest, Vanessa. I work here."

  “I don't understand. Clinton never mentioned--"

  “I suppose not," he interrupted, raking his hand through wheat-colored hair. “He's quite shaken now about your father too. So am I." He paused, then jerked his head towards the deck. “Let's go outside where we can talk more privately."

  She hesitated. “All right." She wasn't sure why, but Lowell seemed steeled by his own brand of caution. The tension stretching between them was so palpable she could almost reach out and touch it.

  They sat, she sinking into a webbed lawn chair, he hitching himself onto a stool alongside of her. For a long while, they stared out at the bay, neither speaking, neither daring to look at each other.

  “When I first came back to the islands, I felt as if I'd been away forever," Lowell said, finally breaking the silence. He leaned forward, studying the back of his hand.

  “Eleven years is a long time," she agreed softly.

  “Yep. Eleven years and three months since I left for Oregon State and Andy enlisted with the Navy."

  “And so much has happened..." Her voice trailed. Unbidden, the memories washed over her.

  Lowell. The rebel of Tawanya High with his devil-may-care grin and his tough kid airs. Lowell had been the only boy who'd managed to steal her heart--though they'd never even once gone out on a date. Much to her bitter disappointment, her crush on him had remained totally one-sided.

  Just as well, her mother had often said. Lowell was four years older, a senior, and far too worldly for Vanessa. What's more, he drove his car much too fast. Wore his jeans much too tight. It didn't matter that Andy did too, Mama had replied each time Vanessa pointed out the obvious. Vanessa needed to stick with boys closer to her own age...

  Vanessa forced her attention back to the present. “So exactly when did you arrive?" she asked. What kind of work are you doing here?”

  "I came back a month ago. My brother Sam--the only brother who still lives here on the island--is letting me stay on his sailboat, which I'm keeping docked in your harbor. He and Miranda, his new wife, invited me to move in with them.” He turned to look at her. His face remained closed and tight. "But I turned them down. I needed my own space...time alone. Time to sort things out.”

  "I see,” she said. My own space. Time alone. No, she didn't see at all. Lowell had always run with the coolest crowd at school. He'd never been a loner. Questions tumbled ins
ide her mind. Was he running away from something? A broken relationship perhaps?

  “So what has Clinton has hired you to do?" she asked, struggling to sound nonchalant. His physical nearness was threatening to rip her resolve into a thousand shreds.

  “Your father and Clinton," he corrected her. “I'm freelancing as a handyman. I plan to take on as much work as I have time for, not only here, but for some of the other lodge owners in the islands too."

  “So you're a teacher then?" she asked. Who else had summers free other than teachers and ski lift operators?

  “No. I'm a cop." His gaze moved fleetingly over her, then came to rest again on her face. “I...I'm here on a temporary leave from my job in L.A. Four more weeks."

  “A cop," she repeated, meeting his stunningly blue eyes, noting the breeze rippling through his hair. He certainly fit the stereotype. Broad shouldered and strong. Opened black leather jacket with the collar turned up. An incredible heart-stopper with his sophisticated good looks. But cops were the worst choice for a husband, she reminded herself--if she were looking for one, which she definitely was not. Cops lived in the fast track. With violence. And danger. Cops were gunned down every day.

  “What happened?" she asked him. “What happened in L.A. to make you need to get away?"

  He averted his gaze. “It's too personal to talk about. Let's talk about you."

  She felt her hands trembling, but couldn't seem to will them to stop. So far neither of them had mentioned Andy, though she sensed he wanted to.

  “Tell me more about your work," he urged quickly. “Eldon said you're a shrink."

  She chuckled in spite of herself. “Leave it to Dad to get things a little mixed up. Though that's my goal, right now I'm an assistant professor at the University of Washington. I teach psychology and head up a support group for troubled teens."

  He quirked an eyebrow, the hint of a smile playing on his face. “I guess it fits."