by Lisa Carter
Honey brushed her hair off her shoulder. “Dexter Willett and I go back to high school. We trade clients when one or the other’s accommodations are full. So I called him and canceled your reservation.”
Caroline crossed her arms. “You did what, Beatrice Elizabeth Duer?”
Honey laughed. “Not even Sawyer gets to call me that. And it’s Kole now, Caroline Victoria Duer. Thanks in large part to you.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Amelia’s lips. “We’re not taking no for an answer.”
Caroline blew out a breath. “Daddy is not going to like it.”
Honey wound a strand of hair around her index finger. “You let me handle Daddy. He’ll come around.” She fluttered her lashes. “I’ve had time in the years since we last met to work on that whole steel gardenia thing.”
Caroline’s lips twitched. “I’ll just bet you have.”
Back in the day, Lindi, Caroline and Amelia had often moaned about how Honey could wind their father around her infant pinkie. Not to mention the Honey Effect, as Mom once called it, upon the entire male population of baby sister’s kindergarten class.
Caroline and Amelia exchanged amused looks. And for the first time, she felt a stirring of hope and the small beginnings of the sisterly camaraderie they’d shared. Until she threw everything away.
But enough with the regrets. The past was the past. Her sisters were offering her forgiveness and a way to move beyond the hurt.
“I’m sorry I missed your prom and graduations.” Caroline rubbed one hand against the bracelets. “Your weddings and the babies, too.”
“You’re here now.” Amelia grasped Caroline’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “You and Daddy need to make amends for both your sakes.”
Her blue-green eyes, so like their father’s, bored into Caroline. “And perhaps one day, when you’ve had time to get to know us again, you’ll feel safe enough to trust us with the why of your leaving.”
“I know I have a funny way of showing it, but I love you two,” Caroline whispered. “My leaving was meant to save you from worse pain.”
Honey wrapped her arms around Caroline. “That’s almost exactly what Sawyer said to me once when I told him how you left without an explanation.”
Amelia draped her arm across Caroline’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re home.”
For the first time in over a decade, instead of feeling trapped, Caroline felt rooted and restored.
Honey patted Caroline’s arm. “I left Sawyer in charge of finishing dinner. That cowboy of mine has many wonderful qualities, but cooking isn’t one of them. If you don’t relish my corn pudding burned to a crisp, we’d best be heading home.”
“Burning dinner won’t improve dear Dad’s disposition, either,” Amelia noted.
“Whatever you say.” Caroline adjusted the strap of her purse on her arm. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
*
“I want to go see Caroline and Turtle Mama.”
Weston flipped the clam fritter in the frying pan. Maybe if he pretended to be busy, Izzie would let this whole thing with the beautiful aquatic vet go.
Perched on a kitchen stool in the lightkeeper’s quarters, Izzie kicked the island with her sneakered foot. Bam. Bam. Bam. “Daddy?”
Bam. Bam. Bam.
“Fritters are almost ready, Izz. Can you set the table?”
Bam. Bam. Bam. He grimaced.
“Daddy…”
The dull thuds continued. Relentless as a jackhammer, she was going to drive him crazy. Which, he acknowledged, was probably the point in her dogged barrage on the wooden counter. To drive him crazy or make him take her to Wachapreague.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
He adjusted the heat on the gas range and wiped his hands on the dish towel slung across his shoulder. “Stop with the drumbeat. I told you Dr. Duer called and said the turtle came through surgery as well as could be expected. We’ll check on the turtle’s status again in the morning. It’s time for dinner.”
“Why can’t we go see Turtle Mama after dinner?”
Izzie’s pluck and hardheadedness would be assets in the workforce one day. He took a deep breath. Provided a deeply patient boss interpreted those qualities as persistence and initiative.
“We can’t go because…” He also reminded himself he was the one with the Coast Guard Academy degree. Surely he could outwit a fourth grader.
She cocked her head at him.
“Because…” His rationale slipped like sand between his fingers.
He glanced out the window and inspiration struck. “Because we have to cordon off the nest of eggs.”
“Oh, yeah. We’re on guard duty tonight.”
His heart sank. Not where he’d been headed with this. He’d had a long day and—
“But we can go check on Turtle Mama tomorrow morning before church, can’t we, Daddy?” Those blueberry eyes of hers warred with his common sense.
“Dr. Duer probably has other patients, Izz. We don’t want to get in her way.”
“She said I’m the best helper she’s had in a long time. I don’t bother her.” A tiny frown puckered Izzie’s brow. “Do you think I’m a bother?”
Weston dropped his elbows on the counter and took her hands between his own. “No, Izzie. I think you’re wonderful.” He gave her a quick kiss on her forehead.
She giggled. “I love you, Daddy.” She smiled at him. Tiny lines radiated out from the corner of her eyes.
“I love you, too, Izz.”
“So we can visit Turtle Mama tomorrow?”
Who could say no to that face? Not him, that was for sure. Not about something so obviously important to her as Turtle Mama.
His chest tightened. He hoped it was the turtle who was important to his daughter and not Dr. Caroline Duer. “I guess we can stop by.”
Weston let go of his daughter’s hands. “But I don’t want you to get too attached to the turtle or the vet. When Turtle Mama gets better, she’s going back to where she belongs.”
“I know, Daddy.” Izzie slid off the stool. “And the vet’s name is Caroline.” She busied herself setting out the napkins and silverware.
“The vet will only be here through the summer.” Dr. Duer’s earlier courtesy call had been abrupt, brief and impersonal.
He’d also made a few phone calls to a few of the older men in the CG Auxiliary who’d known the Duers and the prodigal Caroline for decades. “I don’t want you getting your feelings hurt. She’s a busy woman and by all accounts, not maternal—which means—”
“I know what maternal means.” Izzie sniffed. “I think she’d make someone a nice mommy.”
Eyes averted, she gave far more attention to facing the knives in just the right direction than knives deserved. “I think Caroline would make me a nice mommy,” she whispered.
Weston reared. “Where in the world did you get that idea? I’m not looking for—”
“Don’t you think Caroline is pretty, Daddy?” Izzie cocked her head and studied him.
His thoughts about Caroline Duer shouldn’t be said out loud. Not to his daughter. Like how the sight of Caroline Duer did funny things to him.
Nor how he’d found out the hard way beauty was only skin deep. That there were far more essential qualities to be prized.
“She likes me, Daddy. I can tell. I think if you’d be nice to her, she’d like you, too.”
He stalled. “I do think she’s very pretty,” he conceded. “But it takes more than pretty to make a family.” Or a mother.
Weston turned to the range to flip the fritters. “We don’t have anything in common.”
“You have me. You’d both have me.”
He winced. If only that had been enough before. He’d never willingly put himself or his daughter through that kind of pain again. Help me, God. What do I say to her?
“Don’t you want me to have a mommy again, Daddy?”
He closed his eyes and leaned against the sink.
“Don’t you wa
nt to have a wife to love us again?”
What he’d not understood was how lonely his daughter was for a mother. He’d hoped and prayed he would be enough. His gut clenched. Yet again, he wasn’t enough for anyone. How could he explain he was trying to save Izzie from further pain?
He swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. “I think a mommy and a wife would be a good thing, baby. Someday. But not Dr. Duer.”
Izzie narrowed her eyes. “Who, then? And someday starts tomorrow, Daddy.”
This daughter of his was way too smart to be nine. Way too smart to be his.
Had the time come for him to rouse himself from his comfortable cocoon and return to the dating world? He glanced at his daughter. If for nothing else, then for Izzie’s sake. She deserved a mother’s love.
Weston flopped the dish towel over Izzie’s head. “Right you are. First thing after breakfast tomorrow, we’ll head over to VIMS to check on Turtle Mama. And I’ll see what I can do about getting a date.”
“It’d be fun to go with someone to the Wachapreague Fireman’s Carnival in a few weeks.” Izzie dragged the towel off her head. Her hair—Caroline Duer was right about that at least—was a mess. “But not a date with Caroline?”
He shook his head. “Not with Caroline. We could never be more than friends, Monkey Girl.”
And friends was stretching it. There were hidden depths to the aquatic vet. Jagged reefs submerged beneath her surface waiting to shipwreck the unwary. Caroline Duer wasn’t safe. To neither his daughter’s heart nor his.
“Daddy!” she yelled. “The fritters are on fire!”
Too late, he shut off the temperature gauge. He clanged a lid onto the frying pan and smothered the flames.
A silence filled the air. As did the acrid fumes of burned seafood. Izzie’s stomach rumbled. He appreciated her not making a big deal out of his latest parenting fiasco.
She took the keys off the nail beside the door. “Fried chicken from the Exmore Diner, Daddy?”
He appreciated her not saying “again.” No two ways about it. His Izzie was a trouper.
Weston took the dangling keys from her hand. “Sorry about this, Izz.”
“No worries, Daddy.” She smiled. “I like restaurant food.”
Chapter Five
Dinner at the Lodge with the family was a fiasco, and not because the food had burned. Which it didn’t, thanks to the combined efforts of Amelia’s and Honey’s husbands.
Her father didn’t have much to say. Not to anyone, much less to Caroline. He shoveled the food into his mouth, murmured his thanks and barreled out of the house toward the dock claiming he needed to check the boat.
She jolted as the screen door off the kitchen slammed shut against the frame. Placing her napkin beside her plate, she half rose. “This was a mistake. I should go.”
“No…”
“Please stay…”
At the simultaneous protest of her sisters, Caroline dropped back into the chair. The floorboards creaked overhead as the inn’s lone guest settled in for the evening.
Braeden and Sawyer exchanged a look.
“Actually.” Braeden, the dark-haired senior chief at Station Kiptohanock, wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Dinner went better than I expected. It’s important to stay the course.”
“I agree.” Sawyer scraped his chair across the pine floor and stood. “The Duer sisters aren’t the only stubborn members of this family.” He reached for a serving platter to clear the table. “Apples don’t fall far from trees for a reason.”
Braeden laughed. “Ain’t that the truth? Birds of a feather.”
Honey cut her eyes at Amelia. “I think we’ve been insulted.”
Amelia sniffed, but Caroline noted the sparkle in her eyes when she locked gazes with her husband. “I know we’ve been insulted.”
Caroline’s heart pinged. No one would ever look at her that way. She hugged her arms around herself. Which was only right, considering her past.
Max lined the peas on his plate in a row of military precision. “What does that stuff mean? Birds and apples?”
Braeden ruffled his son’s carrot-top curls. “It means that people with similar character and interests tend to hang out together.” He moved to help Sawyer clear the table.
Max crouched in his chair, his gaze at eye level with the edge of the plate. “No duh, Dad. ’Cause family sticks together. Is an idiom the same as an idiot?”
“In my case, Max…” Caroline handed Sawyer the empty bread basket. “It probably should be.”
She held back a sigh and watched her married sisters perform what must be for them a well-oiled ritual. She regretted the time she’d missed with her family. She fought a stab of envy at the fine men each of her sisters had married.
Amelia collected the hot pads. “An idiom is an expression that says one thing but often means something different.”
She frowned at her son. “Quit playing with your food, Max. Here’s another idiom for you. It’s time to either fish or cut bait.”
Max turned his fork right side up and balanced the end over the rim of the plate. “What else is an idiom?”
Braeden flicked his eyes at Amelia. “How aboot stubborn as a mule?” The Alaska native flavored “about” with the typical hoi toide—high tide—lilt of Eastern Shore natives.
Amelia’s lips curved. “How about it takes one to know one?”
Honey placed her hand over her stomach. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Sawyer grinned. “It takes two to tango.”
Blushing, Honey swatted at him. He laughed and zigzagged out of reach.
Caroline disposed of the crumpled napkins in the kitchen waste bin. “Or from Dad’s point of view, he’ll be glad to see the back of me.”
“Sounds like crazy talk to me,” Max muttered.
Honey shot Caroline a triumphant look. “Exactly. Besides, you can’t leave.” She smoothed the maternity top over the basketball-size bulge of her belly. “The church ladies are giving me an early baby shower in June before tourist season begins, and I want you to be there.”
“Oh, Honey. I didn’t realize… Of course I’ll be there.” Caroline put her hand to her throat. “I’d love to be there.”
Honey’s face radiated a joy Caroline couldn’t begin to fathom. “It’s going to be the best summer ever with you home. All of us together again.”
Not all of us, Caroline reflected. She’d deliberately avoided lingering in the living room, where the family portrait hung over the mantel. A photo taken on a long-ago summer day when Mom and Lindi were still alive. When Caroline had still been part of the family. Before the darkness had taken root and nearly destroyed her life.
Don’t put your faith in me, she wanted to shout as Honey headed toward the kitchen. I’ll let you down. No matter how hard I try, I always do.
But she said none of those things. Instead, Caroline lifted the floral arrangement from the walnut sideboard and positioned it in the center of the table. Wildflowers. Queen Anne’s lace. And those ubiquitous brown-eyed ditch daisies she’d noted Honey was so fond of.
“Thank you for agreeing to attend the shower.” Sawyer edged alongside Caroline, his voice low. “It means everything to her.”
Caroline bit her lip. Please, please don’t make me the object of her happiness. I can’t be responsible for anyone’s happiness. Not even my own.
“One week, Sawyer.” She held up her finger. “I’ll give it one week, but if things aren’t better between Dad and me, I’ll spend the rest of the pilot program at the motel.” She swallowed. “The tension wouldn’t be good for Honey or the baby.”
He nodded. “It’s going to be okay. This reunion has been a long time in the making. And wrought by more prayer than you could possibly realize. I know for a fact Honey has prayed for your safe return every day since you left fifteen years ago.”
Caroline’s mouth trembled.
Max positioned a lone pea on the prongs of the fork. “Watch this, Aunt
Caroline.” He winked at her with a piratical gleam in his eye. His finger hovered over the end of his fork.
Amelia sauntered into the dining room. “Don’t you even think about launching that pea like a cannonball.”
He slumped in the chair. “A guy can’t have any fun.”
Braeden poked his head around the doorframe. “Why, I’ve got more fun waiting for you than you can possibly imagine, son. Helping me wash and dry the dishes.”
Max groaned. And Patrick wailed from his playpen in the corner.
Amelia’s head fell back. “This teething business is going to be the death of me.”
“Patrick wants to help us, Dad,” Max bellowed.
The baby placed his chubby fist in his mouth and continued to cry. Without conscious thought, Caroline found herself at the playpen as Patrick’s arms reached for her.
She lifted him out, and Patrick laid his head against her shoulder. He sucked at his tiny fingers. She stroked the crown of his silky brown hair and hummed a tune her mother had sung when Honey was little.
At the sudden silence, Caroline pivoted with the baby in her arms. “Oh…” She blinked. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
She tried prying the baby off her chest, but he clung like a limpet to stone. “Here. He’s your baby. You’d know best how to soothe him.” Patrick grunted and hung on to her blue scrubs.
“You’re doing fine without me.” Amelia smiled. “I could use a break. And it looks like you’ve got the touch.”
Her eyes widened. “What touch? You mean ’cause I’m a doctor? I’m an animal doctor, not a baby doctor.”
“Mom’s touch.” Amelia’s eyes welled. “You look so much like Mom standing there rocking him…” She took a breath. “You sound like Mom, too. It’s like having her here again.”
Caroline dropped her face into Patrick’s soft curls. She inhaled the scent of his baby shampoo. Her heart pounded. She held her breath and waited for the encroaching shaft of darkness, but nothing came.
Perhaps she’d had it wrong. Perhaps the therapist had been correct. Remembering was healing. It was the denial which wasn’t. Yet judging from her father’s reaction to her presence, perhaps he, too, found the memories painful.
