by Marina Adair
He shook his head. “Thank God you never did that.”
“Sure I did, but since my bras could pass for headbands, you just never noticed.” Ali sat on the bed next to him.
Up until she turned eighteen, Ali was small enough to pass for a twelve-year-old boy. Everywhere. A late bloomer, Loraine had called her. How accurate that term had become. Ali was pushing thirty and the most serious relationship she’d been in had lasted seven months with a logger from Spokane—who ended up being less of a lumberjack and more lumbersexual.
“I notice everything.” He lifted a single brow. “Like how you’re clenching your hands. What’s on your mind?” Marty sat up and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. “Based on that smug smile, I’m guessing it’s good news.”
“My smile is not smug.” Marty looked at her clenched hands and she forced them to relax. “Okay, fine, maybe a little.” Ali handed her dad the envelope. “They picked my piece.”
“Of course they picked you!” Marty’s face went bright with pride and he smacked the papers across his knee. “Anyone in their right mind would take one look at your work and know it was something special. Unique. A one-of-a-kind treasure.” Marty threw his arm around Ali and pulled her in for a hug. “Just like my girl.”
Neither one of them was all that big on hugs, so it started out a bit awkward. But when Ali wrapped her arms around her dad’s middle, she held tight. He might be beanpole tall, but he was sturdy and sure—and Ali let herself sink into his warmth. Sure, sometimes she felt as if she’d missed out not growing up with a strong female figure in the house, but with Marty, she’d never suffered from a shortage of love and support.
“It will be on the cover, too,” she said, and Marty tightened his embrace. “And they want me to be there to talk about what inspired the piece.”
“I couldn’t be prouder,” he whispered.
“Thanks, Dad.” Ali breathed in the moment. The steady beat of her dad’s heart, the sound of the waves gently lapping at the dock, the familiar scent of—BBQ potato chips?
Ali pulled back, suspicion high.
“I’m proud of you too, Dad,” she said pointedly.
It was in Marty’s nature to hold things close to his chest, but he’d never kept secrets from Ali. Until last year when he’d had a diabetes-induced heart attack.
It was only then, as she watched the doctors rush him into the OR, that Ali learned he’d been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes—two years before.
The reason for his secrecy, he’d said, was that she was a worrier and he hadn’t wanted to worry her. But Ali knew the truth. Marty didn’t want to be a burden. So she’d spent every day since proving to him—and maybe to herself—that love could never be a burden. Not when it was honest.
“I know this past year has been hard on you,” she said softly. “Retiring, having to cancel your sail to Mexico, giving up chips.”
Marty cleared his throat and went back to reading the letter from Architectural Digest.
“But it’s important that you follow the doctor’s guidelines.” Ali pushed off the bed and walked over to the kitchen area. “You and I still need to make that fishing trip up to Alaska.” Seeing nothing condemning on the counter, she knelt on the bench that circled around the small dining table and casually peeked in the overhead cupboards for something suspect.
Nothing.
“And chips won’t get us there.” She moseyed over to the cubby above the radio. Maps, a can of mixed nuts, and a satellite phone.
“Are you looking for this?” he asked.
Ali turned around to find Marty holding a bag of beef jerky. He shook it for good measure. “This is one of the five approved snacks I am allowed to have.” He popped a piece in his mouth. “Now, instead of snooping on your old man, why don’t you go do something fun to celebrate.”
“If you’d stop hiding things from me, then I wouldn’t have to snoop.” Or worry so much. “And I was going to go out on the paddleboard, but I’d much rather go for a sail with you. Not to Alaska, but maybe a little day trip out and back.”
“If you’d stop the snooping, my hiding would be unnecessary,” he challenged, but his eyes sparkled at the mention of a sail. “I meant something fun in town. With other people.”
“Dad, this is Destiny Bay, and my kind of fun usually ends with me and the sheriff having a one-on-one. And while fleecing Dudley in poker is entertaining, doing it from a holding cell isn’t exactly fun.” She looked at her dad, the man who had made her childhood as full of love as it could be, then forced herself to let go—a little, “But why don’t I ask Bridget to come along. We can make it a fun family day filled with the open sea, fishing, and maybe even grill up some fish.”
“I haven’t finished waxing the hull, and the ladder needs some work.”
Ali looked around at the clutter and half-finished projects, and guilt settled hard. Marty was anal about his boat, tinkering and finessing until it shined.
Ali had been so focused on the article, on Bridget’s wedding, and keeping up the pretense with Hawk, that she neglected to see that her dad’s health was taking a toll on all aspects of his life—even his boat.
By this time last year, he’d finished all of his spring chores on the boat and was prepping for fishing season. Not that he could go far this summer, but she would make sure that whatever small trips he did get to take, his boat was in tip-top shape.
“Next weekend I’ll help you finish up with all of that, but until then, I don’t think Bridget will even notice.”
“What about her seasickness?”
“Like Mom said, they have a pill for that,” Ali said, and her dad chuckled. “Plus, it will help get her ready for her honeymoon at sea.” Ali still couldn’t believe Bridget had agreed to that. Not that Bridget didn’t like to spend her downtime lying in the sun and sipping down umbrellaed drinks. She just preferred to do it poolside instead of seaside.
“I’d think after this morning that you and Bridget had reached your quota for quality family time.”
Ali grimaced. That wasn’t exhaustion she’d seen in her dad’s eyes a moment ago. It was stress. “You heard that?”
“Didn’t have to, I felt the frost all the way down here,” Marty joked, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He took Ali’s hand in his and the overwhelming concern she’d carried with her for the past year doubled.
Growing up, her dad had been the biggest, strongest man in her life. His hands were powerful enough to lift engines out of machines, and soft enough to tend to a scraped knee. But as she held them now, all she felt was flesh and bones. And the new stress weighing heavy on his shoulders was partly her fault.
“I don’t need you fighting my fights,” he began. “Especially with your sister. My job as your dad is to protect the two of you, not come between my kids. If Bridget wants her wedding in Florida, then we celebrate her decision. That’s what family does.”
“But flying that far will be hard on you.”
“Sweetheart, they transport dead people to Florida with less fanfare, and as far as I remember, I walked out of that hospital,” Marty said with velvet steel. “This wedding is about Bridget and Jamie, not her extended family. And that’s the way it should be. A wedding is always between two people.”
Ali bit back the growing frustration, because weddings weren’t about two people. If they were, everyone would go off and elope. As far as Ali was concerned, a wedding was about family, and sharing that special moment with the people in her life. But for Bridget, it was about what she wanted, and completely ignoring the needs of your family.
So yeah, Marty would go to the wedding and suffer through it with a smile. And Ali would be right there by his side, taking care of him, making sure he experienced everything he wanted to, while picking up the pieces along the way.
Then, when they got home, she’d deal with the fallout. Just like she had her entire life.
“You’re right about one thing, Dad.” Ali rested her head on Marty’s shoulder.
“Family supports each other. So why don’t I go grab Bridget and ask her if she’s up for that sail.”
“Why don’t you call Hawk, too,” Marty said. “I bet he’d want to be here to celebrate.”
Hawk would want to be there. Deserved to be there. This moment was a big deal, but it was ruined by the fact that she’d been doing the same thing she’d accused her dad of—lying. To everyone, including herself.
Even worse, because of her lies, the one person she wanted to celebrate with was MIA. And the last place he’d want to be was stuck at sea with the Marshal sisters.
“You’re going to hear this sooner or later, and I want you to hear the truth from me,” Ali said and sat next to her dad. She took a big breath—and her own advice. No more secrets. “Hawk and I were never really dating. We were just pretending to date to give Bridget a reason to leave.”
“Huh,” Marty said with a smile, and Ali wondered if he’d heard her correct. “And here I thought Bridget coming to town was a reason to finally figure out what’s between you two.”
“It’s not like that,” she laughed.
Only Marty never did. His expression was soft and serious, and full of understanding. “Why do you think he started spending so much time hanging around the house the past year?”
“Because you’re fishing friends and he’s a sucker for a free meal.”
This time Marty did laugh. “The man uses a Ping-Pong ball as a lure, and trust me, the guy could share meals with better-looking cooks than me in this town. But he keeps coming here. Why do you think that is?”
“Because he loves and respects you like a father.”
“Which is one of the reasons I keep inviting him back every week, even when it’s clear he’s been sniffing around my daughter for years now.” Ali opened her mouth to say that he was sniffing around his ex’s house, but Marty silenced her with a finger. “Before you say something smart, I want to point out that Bridget isn’t the daughter who lives here.”
Ali closed her mouth, absorbed her dad’s words, and felt her chest tighten. Not in a bad way, but it was painful because she longed for his words to be true. But she knew better than to blindly give in to a dream. “You need new glasses, then, because Bridget is blond and I’m brunette, and I’m pretty sure Hawk never dropped to a knee and promised to love me forever.”
Because if he ever had, then both of them would never be alone again. Ali knew what a catch Hawk was, would never let someone like him go. Even when he married another woman, a part of Ali had clung to the hope that what-ifs created. What if it didn’t work out, what if he realized he made a mistake and picked the wrong sister?
But all of those what-ifs led to nothing but a stagnant ache that, although it dulled over the years, never went away. And then the marriage didn’t work out, and he was suddenly single again. But he never made a move to be anything other than the doting friend—until Bridget came home and Ali pulled him back into their world.
“Bridget’s a determined woman. Once something catches her eye, she won’t stop until it’s hers, just like your mom.” To Ali’s surprise, Marty’s tone was filled with admiration and deep love. “Hawk didn’t know what hit him. And Bridget didn’t know what she was getting herself into.”
“I’m pretty sure when she said, ‘Oh my God, yes, yes, I do,’ she was on board with the whole thing.”
Marty lowered his voice. “Hawk has spent his whole life looking for someone to love, and Bridget’s spent her whole life running from it.”
“She’s a Marshal, it’s what we do.”
Marty slid Ali a look. “Good thing you’re the black sheep of the family then.”
* * *
The afternoon was fading by the time Ali pointed the boat in the direction of shore—and so was Ali.
Bridget forgot her affliction to moving water. Marty spent the way out detailing the finer points of sailing, Bridget spent the way back discussing the importance of proper wedding planning, and Ali spent the entire trip hard at work on the whole sharing concept.
Yesterday, she would have argued that Bridget was wrong, but after spending the day trying to be a part of the family, instead of the cog that held them together, Ali realized that when it came to navigating relationships, she was merely treading water.
And in her need to take care of everyone, she’d turned relationships that were supposed to be so simple and straightforward into something complicated.
Like now, watching her dad focus everything he had on Bridget while she detailed every bead and line of her dress. Things she knew Marty could care less about, but because it was important to Bridget, it was important to him. He wasn’t giving his opinion, or explaining that Vera Wang was probably already booked, he was just listening.
Being a parent and sharing in his daughter’s joy.
Ali had always been envious of their relationship in that way. Wanted to learn how to remove herself from the reality and participate in the whimsical side of relationships. To be impartial and avoid the conflict and hard decisions seemed freeing.
Completely foreign, but freeing nonetheless.
“Blue is a great choice,” Marty said. “It matches your seaside wedding theme. And Ali loves blue.” Marty turned toward the helm, the wind blowing his hair forward. “Don’t you, honey?”
Ali blinked. “What?”
“Weren’t you listening?” Marty asked, his voice barely carrying over the sound of the boat cutting through the water. “Since the wedding will be on the water, Bridget picked blue for her color.”
“Sorry, I didn’t hear, I was navigating,” she admitted. “What happened to the fuchsia?”
“They couldn’t get it in time for the wedding,” Bridget said, and Ali gave a silent high-five to the universe. “But Mom found a boutique in Seattle that had the style I wanted and everyone’s size in stock. They already shipped them out, and the dresses should arrive in Florida the Tuesday before the wedding. It’s cutting it close, but there will be just enough time for a fitting and alterations.”
“Blue works for me,” Ali said, trying to adopt her dad’s causal smile, his genuine interest. “When’s the fitting?”
“Wednesday morning, first thing,” Bridget said, and a strange nagging sensation pulsed at the base of Ali’s neck. “I figured you and Dad could fly in on Monday so you can be there for all of the preparations and festivities.”
“A whole week of festivities?” There was no amount of signature cocktails to make that week pass quickly.
“The fitting, the bachelorette party, rehearsal dinner, then the wedding.”
Bridget wasn’t kidding when she said that proper planning was important.
Ali did the math in her head, wondered how many slices of cake Marty would sneak, then that nagging feeling in her skull went nuclear.
“Wait,” she said, blowing out a breath. “That is the same Wednesday as the shoot at Nolan Landon’s house.”
The day Architectural Digest wanted to talk about her work, her inspiration. Her big moment.
“I swear, Ali, I had no idea when I agreed to that date that it was the same timing,” Bridget said, and to her credit, she did sound apologetic.
“Can you change it?”
One wouldn’t think it was a huge request, considering the wedding had only been finalized last night. However, the look on her sister’s face suggested that Ali wanted to walk down the aisle in nothing but her birthday suit while flipping the bird.
“That’s was the only booking Raoul had.”
“Is there another seamstress who could do it maybe Thursday?” Ali asked, knowing that there had to be more than one seamstress in the state of Florida. “I can catch a red-eye right after the shoot.”
Even before Bridget shook her head, Ali knew it was a no-go. Marty couldn’t take a red-eye. Not if they expected him to enjoy himself. And she wasn’t all that thrilled about him flying alone.
As if reading her mind, Marty said, “I can fly out with Bridget and Jamie, and you can jo
in us later.”
“I can totally take Dad,” Bridget offered. “But it still doesn’t solve the problem of the fitting.”
“Easy, I’m a size four.”
“You’re five-foot-one in heels, and depending on what bra you’re wearing, you fluctuate between cleavage and small lady lumps,” Bridget said. “Plus, there is my bachelorette party and the pre-wedding preparations, all of the things I’d want my sister to be at.”
Arguing aside, Ali wanted to be there for her sister, too. And for her dad. But she also wanted, more than anything, to be at that shoot. Meet people from the magazine who could be important contacts to grow her career.
Experience what it’s like to be first pick.
“What if I get fitted here and then get to Florida in time for the bachelorette party?”
“The dresses are already on their way, so unless you want to drive to Boise to get one, the fitting has to happen in Florida. Come on, Ali, this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing,” Bridget said so seriously, Ali laughed—she couldn’t help it.
“You know what?” Bridget’s face went hard, but not before Ali saw a flash of hurt there. “Forget it. Come when you feel like it.”
“Hey,” Marty said, his face a puzzle of lines and creases. “We can figure this out. That’s what family does.”
Ali stood and walked over to Marty and sat next to him. “We’ll figure it out.” She looked at Bridget and willed her with her eyes to agree.
“Yeah, Dad. We’ll figure it out,” Bridget finally said and then looked out at the water, making it clear that the family bonding time had reached its bitter end.
The rest of the trip home was in silence, Marty behind the wheel and Ali watching the steady current move across the top of the open waters. And thinking.
Thinking that this was exactly why she was still treading water, because anytime she started to make headway, it always ended up with her sacrificing for the greater good.
