by Cindy Miles
The sun had lowered in the sky, and the night bugs chirped in the marsh grass as they started across the dock. A slight breeze brushed Sean’s cheek, and the sky had begun to turn into a palette of reds, purples and burnt orange.
“I, uh, well, I thought maybe you and Willa could, or would want to keep me company on the Fourth,” Nathan blurted out. His gaze held hers, so much that Sean couldn’t look away. “Maybe?”
And then she did something that completely baffled her.
“We would,” she accepted. “Yes. Thank you.”
A slow smile lifted the corners of Nathan’s full mouth, stretching tight the silver scar that slashed through his lip. “Yeah?” he asked. As if he hadn’t heard her correctly.
She wondered the same thing. When had she kept company with a man? It had been...a very long time. Where had the fear she had been clinging to so steadfastly gone? Was it the sincerity Sean saw in Nathan’s eyes? Or was it the doubt, the hesitancy she’d noticed in his request? He’d been as startled by her acceptance as she had been. Sean hung her head and felt the blush stain her cheeks. “Yeah,” she agreed.
“Right on, right on,” Nathan said, nodding, and he didn’t stop smiling until they reached the end of the dock, where Willa bounced from foot to foot, waiting.
“Come on, guys!” she called out, waving her chicken and cord in the air. “I wanna catch a crab.”
Sean sat on the edge of the dock as the sun crept lower and lower, and the shadows reached closer. The night birds emerged and glided over the glassy river water, and she watched a hulking pirate of a shrimp boat captain show her fairy daughter how to drop a crab line.
The worry returned, though, and began to creep over her, submerge her in the darkness she’d lived with for what seemed like years. She inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled again. Slowly pushed the breath out through pursed lips. She watched Nathan, bent on one knee as Willa leaned in close to soak in his every word, his every move.
This time, Sean pushed it all away. Shoved aside the fear, the worry, out of sight, out of mind. At least for now.
What could it hurt to pretend that she was normal, that she’d stay on Cassabaw, and that this cute guy who was completely sweet and funny with her daughter was all real and would last?
For now, for this split second in time, she’d allow it.
Any misgivings would certainly surface later, and only then would she deal with it. And the moment the thought entered her brain, she all but gasped. So used to dodging, hiding and escaping was she that the thought of merely allowing a little normalcy in her life took her aback. Could it really be so easy? Surely not.
But for the very first time since Willa was born, she was willing to give it a try.
“Mama! I got one,” Willa hollered. “Come here! Look!”
Sean watched her daughter hop from one foot to the other with excitement as Nathan scooped a crab up with a net. Nathan’s grin widened as he glanced her way, and Sean found she had a hard time looking away.
She’d worry about that later, too.
CHAPTER SIX
Houston, Texas
Several weeks before
“KARA, HOLD MY CALLS.”
The timid young blonde at the desk gave a short nod. “Yes, Mr. Black.”
Chase Black strode into his office and closed the door behind him. He was surprised Kara had lasted as long as she had. Two full weeks. She jumped at her own damn shadow, much less the sound of his voice. Any day now he expected to find her packed up and gone. Or a resignation letter sitting in his in-box. Didn’t matter to him, there were always more temps where she came from. Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he draped it across the chair opposite his desk then flung himself into the posh leather of his own chair. Midmorning conference meetings exhausted him, and he’d just as soon hire someone to stand in his place. Too bad he didn’t trust anyone to take care of his business. The moment he closed his eyes, the intercom squawked.
“Mr. Black?” came Kara’s small voice.
Chase inhaled and let it out slowly. “What?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I know you said to hold your calls.” She paused, apparently awaiting Chase’s approval. He remained silent then she continued. “There’s an Adam Mitchell on the phone and—”
Chase’s eyes popped open and he bolted up in his chair. Jesus. “Put him through. And this time, do hold my calls, Kara.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered.
“Mitchell,” Chase said to his caller. “I hope you have something for me.”
There was a pause on the line. “I found her.”
Chase’s pulse quickened. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Mitchell returned then went silent.
“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe it,” Chase muttered. “After all this time.”
“She’s not alone,” Mitchell said. “She’s got a kid.”
Confusion crossed Chase’s brain. A kid? What the hell?
“I lost her in Virginia Beach,” Mitchell admitted. “But I’m on it.”
“Damn, Mitchell,” Chase growled. “You’d better be on it. When you find her again, I want to know right away.”
“You got it.”
The call ended, and he leaned back in his chair. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a framed photograph, and he swiped it with his finger. Taken a week before their wedding. He’d begged her not to leave, but that hardheaded girl had left anyway. And with no family, she’d been untraceable. For five damn years.
She was on the East Coast. Mitchell would find her. And the kid. He’d forgotten to ask how old the kid was. Not that it mattered. He was after her, not some runaway brat she’d picked up along the way.
He smiled at the photo and grazed his finger along the woman’s face once more. “I always said you can take the girl out of the streets, but you can’t take the streets out of the girl.” He slipped the photo back inside the drawer. “Doesn’t matter. You and your secrets will soon be back here where you belong. With me.”
Cassabaw Station
Present day
“SON, IT’S ONE in the morning. What’s wrong?”
Nathan sat on the back deck in a metal-and-cushioned glider that was older than he was. The moon had risen over the water and beamed a silvery path across the black surface. The ever-present brine of the river rose to Nathan’s nostrils, and he inhaled slowly.
“Do you remember when we were all little, and Jep used to tell us that when the moon’s shine left a path across the water that it was the wee Irish fairy folk’s walkway to America?”
Owen chuckled and dropped into the chair beside Nathan. “I do. He told the same story to me as a boy.” He paused. “Fairies and moonbeams aren’t the things keeping you up all hours of the night, son.”
Nathan scrubbed his jaw then pushed his thumbs into his eye sockets. “What if the moonbeams are pathways for our lost loved ones? Mom? Grams? Addie?” Nathan sighed. “I don’t want to like her so much, Dad,” he admitted. “And that kid.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to like either one of them so much.”
Another soft chuckle from Owen. “And why is that?”
His dad had the calmest of voices—deep, even, soothing. No matter how bad a situation, as kids or as adults, Owen’s voice was like magic. It could lull a person into believing...hell, almost anything.
Nathan inhaled again, and pushed out a frustrated breath. He sat forward, resting his elbows against his knees. “I asked Sean if she and Willa wanted to go to the Fourth of July festival with me, and Sean said yes. Now I’m not sure I should have asked. I don’t get the impression she’s staying here for long. She still has unpacked boxes in her living room, and I’m pretty sure it’s all they have.” He looked at Owen. “At first, I thought she just didn’t like me. She’d act so...indifferent when I came around. As if she couldn
’t get rid of me fast enough. But then when she came over and met everyone? It seemed...better. I guess.”
He was frustrated at his inability to accurately say what he wanted to say. Maybe because he wasn’t sure about what he was feeling. “I think she’s going to leave. And to be honest, I’m not exactly sure I can get involved with someone who is temporary.” He locked his fingers together, studied them. “I almost don’t want to get involved with anyone. It’s not fair, Dad.” He swallowed around the knot that tightened his throat. “It’s not fair to Addie.”
Owen leaned forward and placed his large hand on Nathan’s shoulder. He squeezed, just like he had so many times in Nathan’s life when things had turned upside down. The gesture comforted.
“Nathaniel,” Owen said in his even, calm voice. “I know it’s not fair, what happened with Addie. But she wouldn’t want you to go through life unhappy. You’ve beaten yourself up over her death for far too long, son.” He gave Nathan’s shoulder a firm shake. “It wasn’t your fault, boy. The sea took her. It was one of the risks Addie took, taking on the Bering. You know that.”
The memory of that awful day closed in once again on Nathan, piercing his brain as if someone had jammed a knife blade into it. “Yeah, I know,” he admitted. “But she was right there, Dad. I lost her. And I can’t seem to let it go.” He swallowed hard. “Let Addie go.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and a chorus of cicadas rose on the night air. The sticky-hot coastal breeze clung to Nathan’s bared arms and chest, and his mind raced with possibilities, with should-haves and with regrets. And with fear.
All things he’d rather no one else know about. But Owen had a perceptive radar like nobody’s business. Nathan had not been able to fool his father as a boy, or as a teenager. And not as a grown man, either.
“Son, when I lost your mother there were only three things that made me want to wake up in the morning. You and your brothers. But it’s something you have to find—” he tapped his own chest “—inside of here. It can’t be taught. And it can’t be coerced. It has to be decided. By you.”
Nathan nodded. “I haven’t known Sean long. Hell, I’ve only known her for a couple weeks, and not really the good kind of knowing at that.” He looked at Owen. “But I can feel it, Dad. I can feel a draw to her and Willa. It’s a pull that I can’t help, and I find myself up all hours of the night worrying about it. Wondering if I should just leave them both the hell alone. Wondering how I can pull a smile from her. Fearing I won’t see them again. Scared to death I’m doing wrong by Addie.” Nathan gave a soft laugh. “It all scares the hell out of me, Dad.”
Owen rose, his knees making a popping sound as he straightened. He placed a hand on Nathan’s shoulder once more and squeezed. “Well, boy,” he said, and gave him a firm pat on the back. The moonlight made his weathered skin look silver. “That’s where you’re going to have to come to terms with yourself. Ask yourself what you really want, and if it’s worth it. And even if Sean and Willa weren’t in the picture—if you’d never even met them—you’d have to deal with this. It’s been too long. You’re going to have to let Addie go. Not discard her, you see. Let her rest—” he tapped first his temple, then his heart “—in here and inside of here. You loved her, boy, and there’s no shame in keeping that love tucked away. You’re a Malone, after all. We Irishmen have a—”
“Bottomless heart, with room for lots of love,” Nathan finished for him. “So Jep’s said forever.”
Owen smiled. “That he has. Now, get some sleep, son. See you in a few hours.” He gave a half nod, then stepped into the darkened house, leaving Nathan alone.
He sat back then, resting his head against the glider, his gaze locked on that beam of moonlight stretching across the river. A smile pulled at his lips as Willa’s expressive face came to mind. She’d get a kick out of that old Irish tale for sure.
What would Sean think?
Sean Jacobs. She kinda looked like a fairy herself, with that short dark hair, those narrow features and wide eyes. She had curves, too—just slight ones, and he’d thought they were...perfect. Those eyes, though...when he looked into them, they seemed to turn from hazel to a rowdy storm of grayish blue, tinged with uncertainty, suspicion and something else undetermined. He could read her body language, see the stain of blush on her cheeks when he’d asked her to join him on the Fourth of July. Maybe she was battling the same things he was inside.
Maybe she’d even be willing to let him in.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FIVE DAYS HAD passed since Nathan had invited Sean and Willa to join him for the Independence Day celebrations. Sean had thought of very little since.
“Mama, how many more days until the fireworks day with Captain Nathan?”
Sean pushed the hair away from Willa’s forehead and smiled as her daughter lay tucked beneath the covers. “Five. Why? Are you excited?”
Willa’s head bobbed up and down. “I am! Captain Nathan says there’ll be fireworks over the ocean sky. And cotton candy. And other stuff.”
Sean laughed. Willa was one big sugar-oholic. “That does sound pretty fun.” Sean bent and brushed a kiss against Willa’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, my fairy princess.”
Willa’s eyes glowed as she gave Sean that lopsided grin. “Sweet dreams, fairy queen.”
Sean crossed the room and turned off the light then, as she looked back, she saw her daughter turn her face to the stream of moonlight falling through the window. She said nothing—just let Willa think magical thoughts—and wandered down the hall. With a second thought, she slipped out onto the porch, and the screened door creaked as she gently closed it. Having not bothered with purchasing any porch furniture, Sean eased onto the wide step and leaned back against the pillar. Even if she went to bed now, sleep wouldn’t come anytime soon. It never did. She’d lie there, staring at the ceiling. Wondering. Worrying. Contemplating.
She’d rather do all that sitting outside. Something about the moonlight, and the way it turned everything in its path silver, comforted her. Almost...made her believe in magic. Or miracles. Or both.
She’d take either one.
Sean inhaled. She liked the way the air felt damp and heavy in her lungs, the way it clung to her skin. It made her feel...present. Alive. The mournful song of a night bird crooned over the marsh, and it was joined by crickets and whatever other river bugs woke in the dark, and it almost seemed to be a wave, conducted by a maestro of the marsh as it started downriver and, in a uniformed upsurge, made its way to her. Almost as if it was meant just for her ears, at this time, this night.
Money. She had enough to last through to the first of the year. The balance of her savings account had grown to quite a healthy amount. Eventually, though, she’d need to add to it. She’d been planning to work on a new project since arriving in Cassabaw, but other things had superseded her intentions. Namely, Nathan Malone. She wondered briefly what he’d think of her brief explanation of how she made her income. It was something she kept even from Willa, for fear her daughter would inadvertently let her secret out—especially if Willa knew that she was the subject of her projects.
Sean wrote, under a pseudonym, a series of children’s books. The young heroine, whose name was Darling, was a fearless faerie from the kingdom of Netherdreams who attended Mrs. Froggenhall’s School for Slightly Misguided Young Faeries. Darling always seemed to find herself in the utmost pickle of all pickles, only to cleverly save the day. The books provided a nice income, and she was not only able to be home with Willa daily, but also could easily work anywhere incognito. The day would come, though, when Willa would have to be told. Sean hated keeping it from her daughter—especially since she’d given Willa each book in the series. Willa loved them. Sean wondered if her daughter would understand when she told her, one day, that she’d had to keep it a secret. She hoped Willa would.
That led to more thoughts.
Soon, Willa would be school age. She’d turn six in September. Kindergarten. And Willa had been begging to go to school. She would thrive in that environment. Sean knew that. Wanted it for her. But would it be safe?
The good thing with Sean’s current occupation was that her identity was completely veiled. Everything was done via the internet. Her pseudonym was completely random. She was untraceable.
At least, she prayed she was.
It’d been five years. She’d been running, dodging, keeping a low profile for five damn years. She and Willa both. Her daughter had more perception than most kids her age. Willa now asked questions. Wondering why they had to always move. Wondering why other kids got to have pets. Wondering why they couldn’t just find a home and stay. And...asking if she had any other family. It was heartbreaking. It was...exhausting.
And not fair at all to her daughter.
Yet, selfishly, Sean wouldn’t have changed a thing. Not if it meant never having that sweet child to call her own. Willa was all she had. She was her heart. The reason she lived. She’d do everything to keep her happy, and safe. Which was why they’d always been on the move—
“You’re up. Is...this too late?”
Sean nearly jumped out of her skin as Nathan’s deep voice broke through the darkness. Then he emerged from the shadows of the wood, and the moonlight fell over him. Not for the first time, she thought he looked like a swarthy pirate from another time, another place.
“It’s not too late,” she said. “Do you always creep around other people’s property at night?”
He moved closer; slow, easy, as though making sure she’d allow it. He shrugged. “Not just at night.” He inclined his head toward her. “Want some company?”
There went those butterflies again. “Sure,” she answered quietly, trying her best to not sound like he affected her. But he did. He really, really did.
