by Marta Perry
Miz Becky threw back her head and laughed. “Sure is. You do look like a princess today.” She pressed her warm cheek briefly against Tory’s. “You go down there and do us proud. Adam’s waiting for you.”
Adam. Her heart skipped a beat. What would Adam think of this?
She let herself be hustled out of the bedroom to the stairs. She stopped at the top of the sweeping stairway for a moment, clutching the polished rail. It wouldn’t do a thing for the elegant getup if she tumbled all the way down, would it?
“Keep your head up and hold your skirt with one hand,” Miz Becky advised. “How women ever did anything at all in an outfit like that is beyond me, but you surely do look beautiful.”
She wanted to reject the words. She hadn’t been beautiful a day in her life. But maybe she could pretend, just for today.
That thought gave her the courage to lift her chin, grasp her skirt and walk slowly down the stairs. As she came around the curve of the stairway, she saw Adam waiting at the bottom. He watched her with open admiration, and her heart skipped again.
No man had any right to look like that. Adam’s boy-next-door good looks had been transformed by the black pants, high boots and white buccaneer shirt. A black eye patch gave him an unexpectedly dangerous look.
She reached the hallway without incident. Adam took her hand, swept her a bow.
“You look wonderful.” He lifted her hand, and the brush of his lips on her skin sent shivers racing up her arm. “Wonderful.”
Jenny, wearing an identical pirate outfit, ran to her. She pirouetted. “I’m a pirate, too, just like Daddy.”
“You’re a very convincing pirate,” Tory said.
“You look like a princess, Miz Tory.” Jenny grabbed her hand.
“She looks like Cinderella.”
“But Daddy, Cinderella should have glass slippers.” Jenny seemed prepared to argue the point.
“Cinderella,” Adam said firmly, tucking Tory’s hand into the crook of his elbow, “Shall we go?”
It’s pretend, she told herself desperately. Just pretend. We’re all pretending.
It didn’t feel like pretence to have her hand clasping Adam’s strong arm. Or to have Jenny clinging to her other hand. It felt like belonging. And that was a dangerous thing to start believing.
Chapter Thirteen
It wouldn’t be hard to convince herself she’d fallen into a fairy tale, Tory thought as she leaned back in her deck chair. White sails billowed in the breeze, and the pirate pennant above her head snapped. The Jolly Roger moved into the channel to the accompaniment of seagulls squawking and bells clanging.
Adam stood at the wheel with Jenny in front of him, his strong hands covering her small ones. His gaze found Tory’s across a deck crowded with Caldwells and their friends, and he gave her a smile of such pure pleasure her breath caught. He should look that carefree and happy always.
“Reckon Adam likes being a swashbuckler for a day.” Adam’s grandmother, seated next to Tory, watched him with approval in her sharp eyes. “It’s good for that boy to cut loose once in a while.”
“He doesn’t cut loose often, does he?”
“Land, no.” Mrs. Caldwell shook her head.
“Maybe that’s how he wants it.” Adam’s loyalty to his family, even to his late wife—well, it was admirable, wasn’t it?
The elderly woman regarded her, and Tory felt as if her heart and soul were being carefully examined. “I s’pose he does. Guess you’d know that, since you’re one of the responsible ones, too.”
“Me?” The idea startled her. “I’m on my own. Responsible to no one.”
Adam’s grandmother shook her head. “You can’t deny your nature, child. No one can. You came here because you felt responsible, though you weren’t even born when the dolphin disappeared.”
She hadn’t thought of it that way. She’d only known that recovering the dolphin was one thing she could do for her mother.
“Responsible or not, I didn’t succeed.” Her throat tightened. She’d failed to fulfill that last promise. “I didn’t find it.”
Mrs. Caldwell smoothed the gray lace of her dress. “I’d like to see that dolphin back where it belongs, too, but you know things happen in God’s own time, not ours.”
“Gran, you’re not harping on that dolphin again, are you?” Miranda Caldwell settled into the chair on the other side of Tory. With her bronze hair and her Civil War era dress and hat, she reminded Tory of Scarlett O’Hara. “I know you miss it, but we’re doing all right even without the dolphin there for weddings.”
“I don’t see you settling down to happily-ever-after, young lady.” Her grandmother’s voice was tart. “Seems like you need to find somebody to love.”
Miranda snapped open a lace fan, and it hid her face for a moment. “Could be that’s not meant to happen, Gran. Dolphin or no dolphin.” The smile she gave Tory seemed strained. “You have to forgive Gran. She’s got this notion that Caldwells are supposed to be married under the dolphin.”
“It’s not a notion.” Her grandmother leaned forward in the chair as if she’d jump up and set things right if she could. “There’s a lot more truth in legends and such than you young folk want to believe.”
“All right, Gran,” Miranda said hastily. “I believe you.”
“That dolphin belongs in the church, and things won’t really be the way they’re supposed to be till then.” She looked from Miranda to Tory. “And that’s the truth.”
Tory clenched her fists against the green silk. “I wish I’d been able to make that happen.” She looked at Adam again, her gaze tracing the lines of his strong face. A good face, one meant for more happiness than he’d found. “For all of you.”
Mrs. Caldwell reached over to clasp her hand in a firm grip. “Don’t you blame yourself, now. It’s all in the good Lord’s hands. We just have to trust it will work out the way He plans. Besides, maybe you’re here for another reason altogether.”
Tory’s heart seemed to stutter. “I don’t know what you mean.” What did those wise old eyes see in her?
Miranda had turned away to say something to her young son, and Adam’s grandmother leaned closer, her words just for Tory. “Seems to me maybe you and your window can help Adam put the past behind him.”
For a moment she couldn’t speak. But such honesty seemed to demand honesty in return. “I haven’t done such a good job of ignoring the past in my own life.”
Gran patted her hand. “Not ignore, child. Forgive. If you’ve got a ways to go, maybe you’ll help each other. Nothing wrong with that.”
“I don’t think—”
“Don’t think so much.” Gran’s wise old eyes twinkled. “That’s the trouble with you young ones, you think too much. Just let your heart guide you.”
Tory let the words sink in, her gaze on Adam. If she listened to her heart right now, what was it telling her? Maybe it was saying to relax and enjoy this day without worrying so much about tomorrow.
Adam looked at her and smiled again, and her heart fluttered. He couldn’t possibly have heard what they’d said, but he seemed to be communicating directly with her. He held out his hand.
“Come along and help me steer this thing, Tory,” he called.
She could almost feel Adam’s grandmother pushing her out of the chair. She crossed the deck, mindful of the unaccustomed long skirt, and joined him.
Adam had shoved the eye patch back, but he still had a devastatingly dangerous look in that pirate outfit. She had to clamp down on a rush of longing.
“I don’t think you really want my help,” she said. “I don’t know a thing about boats, remember?”
“Just stand here and talk to me, then.” He gave a quick, experienced glance at the sails, then turned his smiling gaze on her. “My first mate deserted me to play with her cousins.”
Tory looked at the crowd lining the rails and sitting on the deck. Jenny had linked arms with her cousin Andi and seemed to be attempting a jig. “Looks like quite a
group of Caldwells.”
He nodded. “The family always sails the Jolly Roger, and we take turns being the captain. This is my lucky year.” He gave Tory a look that might mean, if she really let herself imagine things, that meeting her again was part of that luck.
She suspected her cheeks were red. “Seems as if the whole island gets in on the act.”
“You bet.” He nodded toward the clutch of small boats that bobbed along in the ship’s wake, escorting the Jolly Roger. “Watch what happens. Each time we pass a dock on our way around the island, we’ll pick up more boats. By the time we reach the yacht club, half the islanders will be with us, and the other half will be waiting there.”
“So there is something the islanders and the yacht club crowd do together.”
He frowned briefly, then shrugged. “I guess you’re right. I hadn’t thought about it, but this is the one time of the year that all the barriers come down.”
It would be nice to believe those weren’t the only barriers that could fall. But what kept her from Adam was far more elemental than the money and tradition that separated the islanders from the summer people. She ought to remember that.
It wasn’t easy when Adam caught her arm and drew her closer. “Put your hands here on the wheel and feel how she responds.”
The Jolly Roger wasn’t the only female who responded. With Adam’s hands covering hers, his breath warm on her neck, her heart swelled.
“Like this?” The polished wheel felt smooth beneath her fingers, and Adam’s grip was firm and sure. “I don’t want to run us aground.”
“You won’t.” His breath caressed her cheek. “I’ll take care of you.”
Something that might have been hope blossomed inside Tory. Maybe it was time to stop telling herself this couldn’t work—and to follow her heart.
Adam didn’t want to let her go. Glancing at Tory, next to him as she had been for most of the trip, Adam knew he was in trouble. This woman had taken possession of his thoughts and feelings, maybe of his heart.
That jolted him right down to his soles. He couldn’t let himself feel this way. He couldn’t give his heart to another woman.
Tory isn’t Lila, a small voice whispered in his mind. Tory is honest, forthright, caring. She wouldn’t trample on your love.
He frowned, automatically checking the sails as he made the last sweeping turn around the curve of the island. Was that really what he was doing—letting Lila’s betrayal sour him on any other woman?
The yacht club, its dock crowded with people, came into view. His gaze traced the wide white steps. He’d hurried down those steps looking for Tory that night, when he’d realized she wasn’t coming back. But all he’d found was the white rose she’d worn in her hair, lying forgotten on the walk.
What would have happened if Tory hadn’t disappeared that night? His heart clenched. How different would their lives have been?
He couldn’t let himself think that way. No matter how much Lila had hurt him in the end, she’d given him Jenny. His daughter was worth any price. Even if he could go back and change things, knowing what he knew now about how they’d end up, he wouldn’t.
Not change the past, no. But what about the present? What about seizing the present?
The swashbuckler he was portraying would do that, but Adam was pretending. A costume didn’t turn him into a different person.
“I didn’t realize there were that many people on the island.” Tory’s voice interrupted his thoughts before he could argue that he was really a swashbuckler at heart. “There’s quite a crowd to greet you.”
Adam glanced at his crew, making sure they were all at their stations. “The whole island’s watching us bring the Jolly Roger in. It’s not a time when you want to miss the dock. Or worse, crash into it.”
Tory took a step back as if to give him more space. “I’m not worried.” Her voice was filled with confidence. “You’ll do it.”
He could only hope her trust wasn’t misplaced. He gauged the current, the wind and the rapidly narrowing space between the prow and the dock. He called out his orders, knowing he could trust his brother and cousins to move quickly.
The Jolly Roger seemed to curtsey on the waves. There was a moment of tension when he wondered if he’d judged it right. Then the prow kissed the dock as smoothly as if he did this every day of the week.
He heard the cheers and clapping, but they were background music. All he could think about was the delighted expression on Tory’s face when he turned to look at her.
“That was wonderful.”
“Not bad,” he said.
She leaned closer, and he caught the faint scent of roses that seemed to surround her. It reminded him of playing in the shade of his grandmother’s flower beds on a warm afternoon.
“What happens next?”
He nodded toward the crew as they swarmed ashore. “Our pirates are going to take control and raise the Jolly Roger flag. Then we all adjourn to the yacht club for dining and dancing.”
She smiled. “Undoubtedly what the original pirates did.”
“Oh, I don’t know. They did celebrate when they found a safe haven. But I promise you a better dinner and a better dance floor than they’d have had.”
He glanced up, realizing the crew had raised the flag and he hadn’t even noticed. He took Tory’s arm. “Let’s see if I’m right.”
“Lead on, Captain.”
He stepped to the dock, then reached back to grasp her by the waist and swing her over. His hands fit neatly around her, and she clasped his arms for support.
“You didn’t need to do that.” She sounded slightly breathless. “I could have gotten out myself.”
“Just trying to stay in character.” He offered his arm. “Don’t you think that’s what your typical pirate would do?”
“Never having met one, I couldn’t say.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “I’ll try and act the princess, but I’m not sure how gracefully I can manage this skirt.”
“That was the first thing I thought when I saw you.” The words came out without conscious consideration. “That night at the yacht club dance. You had on a white dress, and when you walked across the floor, you moved like a dancer.”
She shook her head, and he thought she flushed a little. “You must have been dreaming.”
“Maybe I was.” They started up the steps. “But if so, it was a nice dream.”
She glanced at him, her face very close to his as he opened the door. Her dark eyes were serious. “The trouble with dreams is that you have to wake up.”
He pulled open one of the white double doors and ushered her inside. “That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy them.”
Swashbuckler or not, that was what he intended to do. He’d leave all his native caution behind and, at least for tonight, enjoy the moment.
Jenny raced to them, cheeks flushed with excitement. “Aunt Sarah says can I sit with them for dinner? We’re going to have sweet corn and watermelon and all the chicken we can eat. And afterward we’re going to dance.”
Matt and Sarah were probably matchmaking by taking Jenny off his hands, but at the moment he didn’t care. “Okay, but you be good, you hear? And don’t forget Miz Becky’s going to take you home at eight o’clock.”
Jenny pouted. “Can’t I stay longer? I bet my cousins get to stay longer than that.”
“I bet they don’t.” He ruffled her hair. “I know your Aunt Sarah and Uncle Matt too well to buy that. You run along now and have a good time.”
She scampered off, and he turned to find Tory looking apprehensive. “You mean I have to eat sweet corn and watermelon in this dress? I wouldn’t dare.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her expression. “Sugar, it doesn’t matter in the least if something gets spilled on that dress. But I expect they have more grown-up food, too. This is one time they try to satisfy everyone.”
“If you say so.” She looked doubtful.
“Take a look around.” He gestured t
oward the crowd thronging through the double doors. The polished floor echoed to the sound of pirate boots, and the usually sedate yacht club echoed with laughter. “This party’s for the whole island, and we’re all set to celebrate together.”
“A time when barriers come down,” she said softly, and nodded toward the corner. “Do you see that?”
He followed the direction of her gaze, and his heart jolted with shock. His father and Uncle Clayton stood together. Alone together. Talking.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that in my whole life,” he said quietly, knowing his voice had roughened with telltale emotion. “None of us has.”
“They look uncomfortable.”
Tory sounded so anxious he squeezed her hand and then didn’t want to let go. “I know they don’t look like they did in that picture your mother drew. But just the fact that they’re talking—” He stopped, knowing he could never make her understand how important this was. “Thank you, Tory. If you hadn’t come, this might never have happened.”
“You’re the one who told your father to take that first step,” she said. “It looks as if he listened to you.”
“Yes, it does.” He’d have said it was impossible, but it had happened. Maybe this was a time for miracles.
Tory pushed open the door to the ladies’ room after dinner and paused, not sure whether to advance or retreat. It sounded as if someone was crying. A child. She moved quickly around the corner.
Jenny huddled in the corner of a wicker love seat, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Tory flew across the room.
“Jenny, what is it? Are you sick?”
Jenny’s small face was blotchy from crying. “No,” she muttered. “I want to go home!” A sob punctuated the word.
What had happened to the excited child who’d so looked forward to this evening? Tory’s heart clenched. If someone had hurt Jenny…
She slid onto the couch and gathered Jenny against her. “Hush, now.” She rocked her. “It’ll be all right. Just tell me what happened.”
