by Cindy Miles
She turned and watched Nathan at the wheel. He wore a faded blue T-shirt and pair of dark khaki shorts. His hair was pulled back, and his shades now covered his eyes. Arms corded with muscle gripped the wheel as though he’d been doing it all of his life. Like he belonged here, to this place. To the sea.
She wondered what that would feel like. Belonging.
Sean noticed the small covered docks with faded red and blue tin roofs leading out of the river and old wooden pillars sticking out of the water. Enormous oaks stretched close, their branches draped with wispy gray moss. Rays of sun poked holes through the canopy, like peering through a kaleidoscope. The brine of the river rose to her nostrils, and Sean inhaled.
Was any of this real? A month ago, she wouldn’t have even considered taking Willa in public without holding fast to her little hand. The thought of a date had never crossed her mind. Now, here she was, in a picturesque little coastal town she’d found by literally closing her eyes and letting her finger drop on the map. Cassabaw seemed to be right out of the 1930s.
And somehow she’d become immersed in the tableau. Here she was on a date with a handsome sea captain. She’d left her daughter in the care of a witty old Irishman. It didn’t seem real.
Yet it was.
Salty spray from the Atlantic grazed her cheeks as Nathan picked up speed, navigating out of the river and into the sound. The late-afternoon sun warmed her skin, and Sean gripped the side of the trawler. Wood smoothed by so many hands before her felt warm beneath her palms.
“Where are we going?” she called over the growl of the motor.
A smile curved Nathan’s mouth, and the wind whipped at his hair, his T-shirt. He looked completely at home on the sea as his strong hands gripped the wheel. “You’ll see.”
Sean nodded and stared at the open water ahead. The gray-blue ocean lapped at the Tiger Lily, and frothy white caps dotted the horizon as wind stirred up waves. Seagulls screeched overhead, and Sean turned her gaze heavenward, shading her eyes as a bird’s shadow fell over the deck. When she glanced over her shoulder, beyond Nathan, the docks and tin roofs and the jetty leading out of the sound were mere pinpoints. She could barely see them. Where was Nathan taking her?
Soon, something appeared on the horizon. Nothing more than a dot at first. Nathan guided them straight toward it, and as the dot grew larger, Sean realized it was a small island. An uneven strip of gray-white sand curved around the patch of land, and mossy trees gathered in its center. Although they were still a bit away from the shore, the Tiger Lily’s engine was silenced, and Nathan left the wheel.
“Anchor away,” he called, and a big ker-splunk sounded as the heavy iron dropped into the water. He grabbed a large cooler and another canvas bag. “Ready?”
Sean looked from Nathan to the water, then back to Nathan. “We—You want to swim to shore?” Her gaze scanned the water. “I’m not sure.”
Nathan chuckled, and she noticed it was a jovial, manly sound that she rather liked. “Sharks?”
Sean nodded. “They’re there. They’re everywhere. You just can’t see them.”
Nathan gave a lopsided grin. “I won’t lie to you, you’re absolutely right.” He inclined his head to the side of the boat. “Guess I’m so used to them not bothering me and me not bothering them that I don’t even think about it. But we’ll take the raft.”
Relief washed over Sean. “Oh. Phew. Okay.” She let out a breath. “Thanks.”
Again, Nathan chuckled, and he settled the cooler and bag into the raft, lowered it then climbed overboard.
Sean peered over the edge of the boat, and Nathan grinned up at her, extending a hand. “Can you make it?”
Sean nodded, threw first one leg over the edge, then the other, and climbed down the ladder she hadn’t known was there. She reached for Nathan’s hand, and he helped her board the rocking raft. She settled onto a small seat in front of Nathan, and they took off for the shore.
“Hold on,” Nathan called out, and Sean followed his instructions as the raft bucked and pushed against the waves.
Then, the sandy shore was there, and Nathan ran the raft right up onto it. They both hopped out, and Nathan tossed a small anchor out and dragged the small craft farther onto the shore.
Sean stood and glanced around. The mossy trees. The driftwood that had settled into the sand. Snowy-white egrets, with their long beaks, flew among the trees—one or two close by. “Wow. This place...”
“Pretty spectacular, eh?” Nathan said. “Me, Matt and Eric camped out here as kids with Dad and Jep.” Sean tried to imagine what a youthful Nathan looked like. He laughed softly, and the sound blended with the tide lapping at the shore. “We pretended it was Neverland,” he admitted. “And we were Lost Boys.”
“That is so cute,” she said. Peter Pan was one of her most favorite novels of all time. “Who was Pan? Jep or Owen?”
Nathan laughed. “Who do you think? Jep insisted on being Pan. Every time. And Owen would always be Hook.”
She smiled. “Is that why your trawler is named the Tiger Lily?”
Nathan nodded as he set down the cooler and canvas bag then withdrew from the bag a dark-blue-and-red-plaid blanket and spread it out. “Partly. Come on,” he said and inclined his head toward the trees. “I’ll show you something.”
Sean followed Nathan toward the trees then along a thin trail beaten down by foot tread. Almost immediately they were out of the sun and beneath a shady canopy. Small palm shrubs and larger pine trees filled the maritime forest. Nathan led them to an enormous oak tree in the center of the island. Squatting near the trunk’s base, he pushed back the fronds of a shrub palm, swept away some moss.
Sean walked closer and peered over Nathan’s shoulder. The bark had been scraped away, and carved into the smooth, aged wood were three names, barely visible, scrawled in choppy, childlike font. Nathaniel. Matthew. Eric.
“You did that?” Sean asked. She found it whimsical. Adorable. Unique.
Nathan traced the names with his fingertips. “Yep. I was nine.”
Sean knelt beside him, running her fingers over the scratched letters. “Were you here with your dad?”
He quieted then looked at her. “My mom. It was the last time she was here. She died a year later. Cancer.”
“Oh,” Sean said. She’d wondered why Owen’s wife hadn’t been present but hadn’t wanted to ask. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago, but I remember her more than my brothers do. She was...the best.” A smile touched his lips. “Matt and Eric and I used to pile up in a fort made of chairs and blankets and pillows and our mom would settle in there with us and read to us.” He rose and searched the mammoth treetop. “Peter Pan was always our favorite. She always loved Tiger Lily in the book. When she died, and Dad and Jep bought the trawler, we decided to name it Tiger Lily in her honor.”
“I think it’s perfect,” Sean commented, then glanced upward into the branches of the oak. The sunlight dappled through small holes in the branches and leaves, and when her gaze returned to Nathan, he was already looking at her. She noticed the spots of sunlight scattering on his skin.
“We would call this our secret Lost Boys hideout tree,” he said, and his voice was raspy, gruff with old memory. “We would climb all over it—well, at first, Eric didn’t. He was too young. Instead, he’d stay below us on the ground and yell.” He stepped back, to get a better view of the tree, perhaps. “We’d play out our favorite scenes from Peter Pan.” Nathan grinned, and the green of his eyes seemed to shimmer, brighten. “Good times.”
Sean smiled back. She hardly knew what to say to such a sad, bittersweet tale. She imagined him as a child, heartbroken over the loss of his mother.
She knew the feeling. Sort of.
Inhaling, she glanced around. “Do you come here often?”
Nathan started down the
path, and Sean followed through the woods. “Sometimes. It’s quiet. I camp out here when I need some time to myself. Most people don’t even know it’s here. Tourists stopped coming around since we put the signs up.”
“Wait. This is your island?” Sean asked.
Nathan chuckled. “Well, it’s the Malones’. Jep purchased it when Dad was a kid.”
The path wound to the beach and they made their way to their blanket, and Nathan kicked off his shoes and stuck his toes in the sand. He held his hand up to Sean. “Sit with me?”
Sean hesitantly placed her hand in his—it was rough, warm, secure. Nathan tugged at her, and she took a place on the blanket beside him. She, too, kicked off her Keds and dug her feet into the sand. She gazed out to the sea, and the shade from the trees fell upon them as the sun began its descent.
Nathan rested his forearms on his bent knees, and his presence beside her felt heavy. Different.
Good.
“So, Sean Jacobs,” he said, bumping her with his shoulder. “Let’s play a game. I’ve already taken a turn.” He looked at her and smiled. “Tell me something about you.” He busied himself digging into the cooler, pulling out the supper he’d packed. “Here,” he said, handing her a sub-like sandwich wrapped in wax paper. “Jep is famous for these.”
“Thanks,” she said, accepting the sandwich that smelled like heavenly spicy shrimp salad. Pulling back the wrapper, she took a bite. Flavors burst onto her tongue. “Wow. I see why he’s famous for it.”
“Good, huh?” Nathan agreed, biting into his. “So. Your turn.”
This was the thing Sean had feared most. She had to be careful here with this man and this family. They mustn’t know too much.
And she mustn’t get too attached.
And she mustn’t allow her fears to show. Not only would she hate for the Malones—Nathan in particular—to know just what sort of life she’d once led, the things she’d done, but also what if, somehow, her past came looking for her in Cassabaw? The thought of any one of the Malones getting hurt because of her kept her on her toes, as far as revealing information went.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she finished chewing and focused on the sand between her feet. Dug her toes in deeper. “Oh, there isn’t much to tell,” she began. “I grew up in a dusty little town just outside Dallas.” She gave a dismissive laugh. “You know, where everybody knows everybody.” She inhaled, exhaled. “I eventually left for the big city with stars in my eyes.” She wiggled the sand between her toes, took another bite, finished it. Her gaze lifted to meet Nathan’s, and he watched her closely, those eyes as profound as any she’d ever seen. She shrugged and looked away. It was hard to look at Nathan when she was leaving so many truths of her story out. Truths that, if he knew, surely he would change his mind about her. A vague memory, one she’d pushed away long ago, surfaced, of living on the streets, digging through Dumpsters behind restaurants to find food. And other acts she’d rather soon forget. “Well, the rest is kind of clichéd. I met a boy, thought he loved me.” Again, she gave a soft laugh. “Turns out he didn’t.”
Nathan said nothing. He simply watched. Ate. He pulled out two sodas, handing her one without a word. She guessed he wanted more.
“Thank you. So, nine months later and my life changed...wholly. And in the very best way possible,” she said, taking a sip of soda. “It’s been just me and Willa ever since. She is—” her gaze met Nathan’s, trying to communicate the sincerity of her words “—everything that matters to me in this world.” The statement hung heavily, awkwardly. Unsure of what to say that would lighten the moment, she did what she always did: turned the focus around, away from her. “So, what about you?”
* * *
HE KNEW SEAN held back. There were years, experiences, she’d purposely skipped, and although he wanted mightily to push, he didn’t. Not on the first date. But he wondered about her hesitancy. Was she hiding something embarrassing? Something she wanted to keep buried. For now, he would give her space. Time to get to know him.
Hopefully, in time, she’d learn to trust him.
Nathan considered her question then nodded. “So, when we were younger—I’d say Eric was six, Matt was eight and I was ten—we went on a hunt.” He wiggled his brows. “For Bigfoot.”
Sean laughed. “Did you find him?”
Nathan held her gaze. “I swear as I sit here, I saw something. Something big ran across the road at the north end of the island.” Nathan stirred his memory, and it made him smile. “We were on our bikes, the sun was fast dropping. Long shadows fell across the road and into the marsh. I—We all swear to this day that we saw a tall, hairy creature, walking upright, lumber across that road.”
Sean giggled. He rather liked the sound. “Wow. Sasquatch on Cassabaw. What would you have done, had you caught him?”
“In our young minds, we wanted him for a pet,” he admitted, as he recalled that night. “We wanted to lure him to the river house with chunks of biscuit. We dropped those chunks all the way down the road and up our drive.” He laughed. “But there was no Bigfoot. Only a fire-mad Jep, because we’d used a whole batch of biscuits as bait.”
Sean smiled, shaking her head. “No doubt you had several woodland creatures following those chunks.”
“Raccoons,” Nathan admitted. “I still remember Jep chasing them across the back lawn with a broom.”
They both chuckled.
They finished their po’ boy sandwiches and sipped their drinks before Nathan pushed to know more.
“So, a Texas girl,” he teased, then nodded. “I thought it was an underlying rule for Texas women to have—” he held his hand above his head “—really tall, really big hair?”
Sean smoothed her shorn hair behind her ears. “I guess I didn’t get that memo,” she said. “I’ve had mine short for some time now.”
Nathan eyed her appreciatively. “I like it. It...suits you.”
Sean glanced down, as though bashful. Or embarrassed. “Thank you.”
Nathan cleared his throat. “Willa’s a pretty great kid. You’ve done a good job with her.”
She nodded. “She’s been a very easy child. Even as a baby. She’s spoiled me.”
Nathan wanted to know where Willa’s father was and why it seemed he wasn’t in the picture. Those, though, were questions for another time. She’d already avoided the topic, given him the bare-minimum information, and he wasn’t about to lose what little ground he’d gained with her.
“Actually, it’s the complete opposite,” Sean said. “She’s done a good job with me.”
Nathan studied her. Noticed her small, sharp features. The way her nose fit her face so well, and how curvy her lips were. The wind had picked up, and as it pushed by them Sean’s dark, pixie-like hair blew across her forehead, leaving a long hank over her eyes. Without thinking, he lifted his hand and brushed it away, and her cheeks stained crimson.
“I think it’s probably pretty even,” he said, and clasped his hands together between his bent knees. To keep from touching her. God, he wanted to. For the first time in... Jesus. How long? He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to see trust shine in her eyes. He held back, though. The tension between them felt heavy, and he wasn’t sure if it was good tension or the kind that made a person take flight. He dropped his head and caught her gaze. “You two are a perfect match.”
Sean smiled. “Thank you. That...means a lot.”
Nathan forced his eyes away from her lips, which looked soft and full and turned up just right. “So,” he said, steering the conversation away from anything that seemed threatening, “what did you want to be when you grew up?”
Sean pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them and gazed up to the sky. “Well, when I was little I remember wanting really badly to be a Jedi Knight.”
Nathan laughed.
“What’s so fun
ny?” she asked.
He shook his head and ran his hand over his bearded jaw. “I wanted to be a Jedi Knight.”
Sean’s laugh resonated over the waves lapping at the shoreline. “No way!”
Nathan nodded. “It’s true. When we weren’t being Pan or Lost Boys, anyway. Matt and Eric would pretend to be Stormtroopers and would chase me all around the house. Sometimes, we’d all be Jedi Knights and pretend that Jep was Darth Vader, only Jep wouldn’t know it.” The memory flashed before his eyes as though through an old projector film. “Jep would turn around and catch us at various posts in the kitchen while he cooked supper, and he’d yell, ‘What are you foolish kids up to now?’” Nathan thought how much he really liked a smiling, laughing Sean Jacobs. “So what else did you want to be?” he added, keeping it light. “Since Jedi 101 wasn’t available.”
A smile remained on Sean’s lips, and her eyes moved toward the sky once more. At first, she kept silent, seemingly staring into her past. “I remember at one time wanting to study the stars,” she admitted, and her expression softened, as though recalling a time that may have been a really good one in her life. Carefree, perhaps. “The constellations, galaxies—there is so much out there,” she said quietly. “I can sit and watch the sky for hours. Willa, too. We’ve taken to watching the stars from the floating dock after the sun goes down. She takes pride in finding the first twinkler of the night.”
If she liked watching the stars from the dock, he wondered what she’d think of a sky full of them from the sea. He grinned. “Stargazing alfresco.”
She said nothing; only smiled, and Nathan couldn’t help wondering what lay behind that smile. What secrets, what pain or joy, if any, lay hidden behind those solemn eyes? He was glad he’d been the one to put a smile on her face now, anyway.
Sean’s gaze shifted and stared off into the distance, and Nathan didn’t have to turn to know what it was she looked at.
“Cassabaw’s lighthouse,” he informed her, and swiveled to watch the beacon. The sun had fallen fast, and the sky now streaked with fiery colors of red and orange.
