by Tracy Sumner
Noah tipped his head and blinked furiously, as always, considering before he spoke. "Did you think it was easy? Everything I loved was in this godforsaken town."
Too weary to stand, Zach dropped to the edge of the dock, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his legs dangle over the side. "Why, Noah? Why?"
Silence reigned for a long moment, then, surprisingly, Noah settled beside him. "I couldn't stay here. Things were... different. I didn't know who I was. I felt out of place, belonging to nothing and to no one."
"You're my brother, Noah, and nothing will ever change that. Not a thousand miles or ten years or sharing half the blood you thought we shared. Who cares if the bastard who sired me didn't sire you? I don't know why she chose to stray outside her marriage or even if she loved your father enough to make up for things. All I've ever known, clear to me as the sun rising every morning, is you and Caleb are my family. Nothing else matters."
"It mattered, Zach. It mattered more than I knew. You and Caleb were all I had, and I lost both of you that day." Noah dipped his finger into a gash in the plank, his gaze fixed on the sea. "The damage to my soul, my pride, my sense of family, was too much to overcome."
Zach splayed his fingers across his stomach, the unshakable conviction in Noah's voice scaring him. "Did you love us any less because we shared only one parent?" His expression steady, he waited.
Finally, Noah felt compelled to look him in the eye.
Love? Noah swallowed past the knot in his throat. He had forgotten the Garrett propensity—evident in both of his brothers—to blurt out what they were thinking without thinking first. Delaying the inevitable, he slipped his spectacles from his pocket and wiped them on the front of his shirt, pleased his hands shook only a little. He wanted to ask about Hannah, but if Zach fell apart right now, he was doomed to follow.
"Did you?" Zach's voice rumbled through air seasoned with the scent of his cologne. God, that smell had haunted his brother's pilot coat like a ghost, reminding Noah of the many times he had pressed his tear-streaked face against it.
"No." He jammed his spectacles into place, wishing he could lie.
Zach rocked forward, clasping his knees. "After Caleb had time to mull everything over in his rusty can and read Mama's diary from cover to cover, he wanted to die. He felt so protective, so responsible, and Lord, Noah, we had no idea where you'd gone, how you were surviving." His voice cracked, and he paused, hitching a noisy breath through his teeth. "When Caleb found out about your father, he let anger control him. And he ended up punishing the person he loved most in the world. It's his way. Act first, think later. You knew that. How could it have been a surprise?"
Head beginning to ache, Noah gazed across a turbulent, blue-black sea. A pelican swooped in to settle on a weather-beaten piling, its distinctive white coloring telling him it was no more than six months old. "The look in his eyes... this gaping void, some horrible absence of attachment. Like I was a stranger, or worse, his adversary." He flicked a hardened shrimp tail from the pier, where it plunked beneath the waves. "I felt weighed down with shame on top of devastation on top of despair. I ran because I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't go to Caleb, and I wasn't sure I could go to you. I know you knew, and you never told me. I felt tainted and dirty."
"I only have one question: are you still running?"
"What an asinine question. I'm here, aren't I?" He slammed his palms to the pier, shaken to the tips of his toes.
"In a way, yeah, you're here. For the laboratory. But I can't help thinking it's a weak link at best. Tenuous, Ellie called it, and I think that's what she meant." He picked a splinter from the plank and twirled it between his fingers. "I have to admit, she could always read you better than I could, so I'll take her word for it."
Noah snorted derisively. "Tenuous. Pretty big word for Elle."
"She's a very bright woman, Noah. If you weren't so gifted, maybe you would have noticed."
"It was hard for me to notice anything besides the broken arm and cracked teeth, the torn clothing and stolen fruit. Jesus, she and Caleb created chaos, day after day, and kept me busy repairing the damage. I never had time to stop and consider whether Elle Beaumont was an intelligent girl."
Zach sighed. "Not everyone pauses to consider every move in life before they make it, every word in life before they say it. Besides, all that happened a long time ago. Ellie is a woman now, not some silly kid."
"If you say so."
"Funny, I reckoned the tide was turning about the time you lit outta here," Zach said, not trying to hide the amusement in his voice. "Thought Ellie might finally get a chance to snag you. Lord knows, she worked hard enough."
"You're absolutely insane."
Zach raised his hands in defense. "Hey, just telling you how I remember it."
"Well, big bro', your memory is shot to hell."
Zach laughed, fueling Noah's discomfort and igniting a rare burst of recklessness.
"Listen, I admit to wondering." Noah's foot shot out, spraying water. "Dammit, she was always touching me. How could I not wonder?"
Zach drew his hand across his mouth, but Noah saw the wide smile anyway. "Maybe you should have given her a fast smooch under Mama's oak tree. Only, that would have been hasty, knowing you."
Noah jumped to his feet. "Don't try to push me toward her. It won't work."
"I'm not pushing anyone anywhere. Clearly, Ellie is over her juvenile crush. After all, she has her life, her school. Calm down. I think your virtue's safe."
"Virtue." Stalking along the slippery dock, he hoped he didn't slip and tumble into the ocean.
"Have time for dinner? Looking a bit on the wiry side."
He glanced back to find Zach dusting the seat of his trousers, shaking loose drops of rain from his collar. A gull flew past, squawking and diving into the wind. "Dinner?" he repeated, certain he would be hungry if he thought about it long enough.
Zach nodded, the raw yearning in his gaze and the answering pang in Noah's chest making the decision simple.
Noah felt the Garrett net tightening around him, and he wasn't sure he minded.
Rory sat to his right, gravy smeared on his cheek, a dab of mashed potato clinging to the end of his nose. Zach sat to his left, waving a butter knife like a wand as he talked about the tribulations of being the town constable. They smiled and laughed often—something he certainly wasn't used to. Their behavior better suited a family kitchen, not a public restaurant. Some restaurant, Noah thought, and surveyed the crowded dining room. Dented tin chandeliers dripping wax to the floor, chipped porcelain atop tattered cloths, bowed chairs surrounding tables of all shapes and sizes. The stink of fried fish, whiskey, and hair tonic mingling quite favorably with the scent of the ocean flowing in the window.
A hoarse bellow from the adjoining saloon jarred him from his deliberation. He threw a quick glance at Rory, then lifted his gaze to Zach's. "What was—" The shatter of glass cut into his question.
"Uncle Caleb." With a vague motion, Rory sucked a lump of sweet potato pie from his spoon. "In the Nook and mad about something."
Noah didn't take time to think, the conviction in Rory's voice enough. Plus, in the deep recesses of his mind, the bellow had held a familiar ring. He shoved his chair back, pocketed his spectacles, and took the narrow hallway leading to the saloon at a near run. Pilot Isle's lone barroom was the place Caleb had given him his first lesson in drinking. Rum, he recalled.
The crack of wood and a grunt of pain had Noah shouldering past the crowd blocking the doorway, the fracas getting worse if the escalating uproar meant anything.
"Hey!"
"Wait a darned minute, fella."
Ducking inside, he knocked at the clutching hands, understanding these men wanted to sustain their entertainment. Fingers curled into fists he hoped he wouldn't have to use, Noah shoved into the central circle. Flickering light cast shadows across a multitude of besotted faces; their wrinkled clothing reeked of sweat and toilet water.
He
squinted and took a step forward. Ten years had passed, but he recognized Caleb instantly. The hunched stance; the way he held his shoulders; blessit, even the coal black cowlick sticking up on the crown of his head.
Surprisingly, it wasn't bitterness filling his chest with warmth. No, the warmth felt quite like devotion.
Devotion bowed to fury when Caleb's head jerked from the impact of a blow. Loathing the part of his mind that sanctioned action above reason, instinct above logic, Noah nonetheless stepped into the fray.
Wouldn't be the first time he had taken a hard knock because of his brother's recklessness.
Clearly taking a beating, Caleb stumbled to his knees. Fist cocked and ready, his opponent advanced. Noah got a close look at the man's face—and time slipped away. As if it were yesterday, he watched his brother retrieve his spectacles from beneath Magnus Leland's boot, straighten them with clumsy fingers and rest them on his younger brother's nose.
"I'll be damned if you aren't begging for a drubbing, Leland," Noah said, his voice relatively calm considering the pulse pounding in his head. He held his arms by his side, figuring he could still reason this out. Maybe. If he avoided looking at Caleb, who lay in a dazed heap on the floor.
Magnus's arm dropped. He leaned into the light, ejecting a whiskey-scented breath and a bark of laughter. "Well, well. You actually are everyone's lofty savior, aren't you? Imagine, rescuing your brother after you neglected to mention your arrival. He was overwhelmed, to say the least, much to my enjoyment." He lifted his hand to his mouth, then frowned at the smear of crimson. "What happened, Garrett? Your dearly devoted little admirer couldn't keep you occupied? Admittedly, there's not much in the way of feminine solace in this town, but perhaps you might find something effortless compared to Mari—"
The first punch he threw split his knuckles; the second sent a shaft of pain up his arm.
Christ, it felt good.
Magnus tottered, launching a wild swing that caught Noah just under his ear. His teeth came down hard on his tongue; a flash of blue lit his vision. A warm trickle slid down his neck as his mouth filled with blood.
Without warning, hands gripped his shoulders, propelled him through the kitchen, out a back door, and into the night. The peppery scent told him exactly who led him. Shrugging free, he placed a steadying hand on the Nook's rough-hewn wall and dragged a breath of crisp air into his lungs. Blinking hard, he released it in a ragged chop.
"That was damned perfect! The two of you absolutely amaze me." Zach kicked a wooden bucket into the wall.
Noah shook his head and tapped the heel of his hand against his ear. "What?"
Zach leaned in and said through clenched teeth, "I'm the little bit of law in this town. I should throw both of you idiots in jail."
Noah rolled his head to the side, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass. Zach stood before him, face white as chalk, brow beaded with sweat. Moonlight flooded the alley, throwing everything into silvery relief.
"Lord help me if one of you needs a doctor. He's out cold, draped over the only table left standing," Zach said.
"Good." Noah ducked his head and spit a mouthful of blood on the ground.
"Good? Good?" Zach paced to the edge of the building, hands propped on his hips, foot tapping a frantic rhythm.
"You've... learned a lot... little bro'."
Hair prickling the back of his neck, Noah stared at the blunt shape slumped against an overturned barrel. He dug in his pocket, slipped his spectacles on. "Yes, I learned a great deal, thanks to you."
His words appeared to knock the wind from Caleb, who dropped his head and flexed his hands, outwardly intent on his injuries. "I'm sorry," he finally said, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Noah sent his fist into the wall before he could think to stop himself. "Don't pull some damn remorse act on me, Cale. I can live without your recrimination. I have for years."
"Hold up, there." Zach grasped him by the shoulders and set him back with a gentle shove.
The kitchen door creaked, and the scent of baked apples spilled into the alley. "Zach? All clear? I have alcohol and bandages, if you need them."
"Yes, all clear."
After gathering her skirt in her hand, the woman stepped out. Noah had trouble piecing together names and faces but something about her seemed very familiar. She knelt before Caleb and placed her supplies beside her, whispering and turning his hands in hers, her touch decidedly intimate.
Ah, yes, Elle had mentioned Christabel Connery and Caleb. They had been together since Caleb's impulsive proposal.
Noah exhaled and stared at the puddle of water beneath his feet.
"Where's Rory?" Zach asked.
Christabel tilted her head, glanced at each doggedly set face before returning her attention to Caleb. Stubborn fools. "With my brother and Ellie. Daniel's ship docked earlier. You know how he's always asking her to dinner." She pressed a cloth against a gash on Caleb's knuckle, realizing she used a rough touch. "Cornered her this afternoon at the mercantile, didn't leave her much choice. They walked in as you went tearing out. She's in the kitchen, chipping ice. Should be here any minute."
"I have to go." Noah shoved from the wall.
Caleb staggered to his feet, blocking Noah's path. "Go on, get outta here. Like always."
Facing each other, they squared off, the air around them humming with emotion. Still, the wounds needed to be jabbed, allowing all the resentment and hurt to drain out. Christabel had believed that for years.
She discreetly shook her head when Zach started to move between them. Might be a fair fight, she guessed, squeezing the damp rag, scattering drops of water on her patent leather slippers. Noah stood six inches taller, but Caleb's arms were twice as thick.
After a moment, they eased back, cautious and unsure, muscles in their shoulders jumping. She watched Noah duck his head, his throat working, his lips parting, closing, and parting again. All the time, Caleb studied him, longing etched in each groove on his face. It was clear as daylight to her what they should do.
But, in the end, Noah turned and walked from the alley.
Zach raised his arm to hold Caleb in place. "Let him go."
Caleb spun to face them, his swollen lip curled. "I did that once, remember, and he never came back. I should have hauled him home by the scruff of his scrawny neck and made him understand."
"How was I to know he wouldn't come back? He was never anything but reasonable."
"He's thinking real reasonable, all right. So reasonable, he about knocked Leland's head off." Caleb's voice softened to a tone Christabel had only heard him use in bed. "And... he did it for me."
Zach tugged at his collar. "When he was a boy, I never knew what to make of him. Now, he's a man, and it's even worse."
Christabel handed Caleb a rag. He pressed it against his cheek and winced. "Well, you better figure it out. If you leave it to me, I'll go to that stiff-backed widow's right this minute and drag his—"
"No."
"What then, Constable? He can't stand to be in the same room with us for five minutes. How in the world are we ever going to resolve this mess if we can't even talk to him?"
"This isn't a room, Cale."
Caleb flung the rag to the ground. "Oh, hell, you know what I mean."
She covered her mouth, but a laugh burst forth anyway. Zach and Caleb twisted around, identical masks of confusion on their faces. She was beginning to enjoy this almost as much as she'd enjoyed seeing little Noah Garrett slug that high-nosed doctor in the jaw. "Noah didn't go tearing out of here because of you two."
"What are you talking about?" Zach asked, impatience narrowing his eyes.
All at once, the door banged against the outside wall, and Elle burst into the alley, washing bowl in one hand, strips of white cloth in the other. Her hair had come loose from its slapdash knot, bronze curls framing a face both ashen and flushed. Christabel smiled; she couldn't have timed the scene better if she'd planned it.
"Where is he?" Elle paused before
she reached them, glancing into each darkened corner.
Zach's gaze locked with Christabel's; she nodded faintly. Figuring she needed to give Caleb an extra prod, she dug her elbow into his ribs.
He groaned and massaged his side. "Not there, darling."
"Where is he?" Elle repeated, panic accenting her speech.
"Gone, honey." Christabel grabbed the bowl and rags and turned Elle toward the kitchen. "Noah can take care of himself. A little blood and a thump in the head isn't going to kill anyone. Especially a Garrett."
"Blood?" Elle jerked to a halt. "Juste Ciel!" She whipped back, green eyes glowing, face devoid of color. "What did you do to him, Cale?"
Caleb raised his arm, then groaned and lowered it. "Not a thing. Your former betrothed was doing the damage. Some doctor, that one."
"Magnus." Elle stalked to the door and practically ripped it from its hinges.
"Good Lord, Cale, go get her. Honestly, I can't handle any more havoc tonight." Zach dropped his head to his hands.
Caleb jabbed Zach in the chest as he passed. "You and I are having a long talk later, Constable. I'm not so stupid I don't realize you knew Noah was coming."
"Yeah, yeah," Zach muttered as the door slammed.
Christabel perched her hip against the barrel, the bowl cradled in her arms. "What do you think about this, my friend?"
"Damned if I know what to think."
"Love would keep Noah here, sure as Moses parted that sea. Give him and Caleb plenty of time to mend fences, too."
Zach lifted his head, exhaustion shadowing his face. "True, there's always been something"—he made a vague motion with his hand—"between Ellie and Noah. Some kind of understanding, a keen insight into each other's feelings. But love? Love doesn't take this much figuring out."
"Honey, what you and Hannah had was a diamond sitting atop a pile of rocks. I watch idiots every day, drinking and searching for answers, and I can tell you, love isn't easy for most people. Bury deep what they don't want to see, go blind to what they're scared to feel. Using their heads, not their hearts." Christabel trailed her finger around the rim of the bowl, the sharp scent of alcohol stinging her nose. "Remember the first time we saw Hannah? Her daddy brought her to preaching just after they moved here from Atlanta. She wore one of those bonnets with all the ribbons trailing down, practically to her fanny. And some kind of yellow frock with lots of lace."
