Beachcomber Baby

by Stephanie Queen

  “Dane?” Shana said. “Are you coming?” She was at the door with the baby, Paulette, alive and waiting. Dane got himself back to the here and now and forced himself forward.

  Once they got into the taxi, Shana situated Paulette in her carrier-car seat, and gave the driver the address for the church. Then Dane pulled her close into the seat next to him and wrapped her in his arms.

  “I’ve been wanting to hold you all day.”

  “You have?” She looked skeptical to him in spite of his arms around her.

  “You were perfect today. In every way.”

  She gazed at him for a long moment, looking puzzled and wondering and then finally smiling. She raised her chin, leaned in and gave him a kiss. One of those soft, meaningful, I-love-you kisses, not perfunctory, not lusty, but sensual and filled with feeling.

  The sensation of being in someone else’s life hit him again, the way it had when they shopped for baby things. He reminded himself that Paulette had been on loan—all of it was an illusion. Right down to his possession of Shana. She was a loaner too. She was lending herself out to him for a time, but he was no fool. He knew she’d figure she didn’t need him sooner or later.

  He hoped to God later.

  The taxi stopped in front of the church and Shana stopped kissing him.

  Dane and Shana walked up the front steps to the rectory. Shana carried Paulette, talking baby talk to her along the way. Dane walked alongside her, carrying the bags and the carrier. He didn’t bother suggesting she put the baby in it. She looked happy holding the little girl. Someday Shana would make a beautiful mother. In every way.

  The sensation that they were a happy family on their way to arrange a christening disappeared the instant Marian opened the door.

  The woman who’d been a charming, confident knockout looked like a beaten, shaken wreck. The entire left side of her face was bruised and swollen and she had stitches in her mouth. Dane’s muscles tensed. He made an effort not to fist his hands. He wished he’d been the one to catch up with Spartak, though it turned out better all around that it had been Shana.

  “Oh, Marian.” Shana rushed in and gave the woman an awkward hug with the baby between them.

  Father Donahue walked toward them through the entry hall. Dane nodded at him. Nothing like a woman’s beaten face to remind Dane about who he was. He was the kind of man who made it his mission every day to prevent—or correct—this sort of thing. Or at least take out revenge. He thought of the three dead men he’d left at his beach shack. Cap had assured him he’d have it cleaned up before they got back.

  “Come this way.” Father Donahue led them to the front parlor where Marian normally presided. He brought up the rear and watched as Shana entered the room with the baby. Lara sprang from the couch and tears came to her eyes as she ran toward her baby, Paulette. Shana, being a strong woman, remained standing and handed over her precious loaner baby.

  He noticed a few tears in her eyes, but her smile was wide and genuine as she watched the mother and child reunion. Dane couldn’t help but be affected himself by the glare of the joy in the room. And this was another example of why he did what he did. He let the warmth of the moment soothe him and run over his soul like balm. The laughter and tears and the positive electricity in the very air were unmistakable. Father Donahue joined the reunion with his niece and her baby and seemed happy, but a little wistful too maybe.

  Dane wondered how much of his lothario priest story was made up and how much was real. And how much he’d given up to be a priest. The man was a true Christian if there ever was one. He’d acted selflessly for his niece, risking everything to help her. Not your average padre. Father D turned to him and came to stand with him. Shana returned to Dane’s side, took his hand and squeezed.

  “There are no words that can express how grateful I am and no amount of money that can adequately pay you and Shana for what you have done, how you’ve helped us.”

  “I can legitimately say I don’t care about the money right now,” Shana said. Dane saw her misty eyes as she watched the ongoing happy reunion. Marian had been absorbed by the mysterious gravitational pull of the baby—which seemed to be a universal effect that babies had on women—and laughed and hugged and cooed alongside Lara. Dane turned away before he was turned to stone by the sight.

  The soothing joy had dissipated and gave way to the familiar pain. But the pain he felt was more of a dull ache rather than a stab. Maybe that was progress.

  “You ever been an actor—before you became a priest?” Dane asked Father D.

  “No—my recently acquired acting talent was a gift from above when I needed it,” Father D smiled. “I suppose you’re wondering how an old salt like my father ended up with a son like me?”

  “Old salt? Okay, we can go with that,” Dane said. Father D gave another wistful nod.

  “He loved my mother. She left him when I was twelve. That was the turning point. She hid us away in a monastery in France and he didn’t find us for a while. By then I was well on my way to priesthood and my mother had been working as a cleaning woman. She re-married, although strictly speaking, she’d never divorced my father. To me—and to God I suppose—her explanation was that they were never really married.

  “Let me guess,” Dane said with a sudden insight, “Your mother had a little girl named Marian.”

  Father D beamed then and nodded. “You’re good, Mr. Blaise—you’ve more than lived up to your legendary status.”

  Shana gaped at them then said, “Let me make a guess—you already knew about Dane before you called Governor Douglas.”

  Father D nodded. “My father told me about you. I called him when Lara disappeared leaving her baby behind. Normally I wouldn’t have. We have an understanding. He’s here in Boston partly because of me. I’d like to think that. But it’s mostly to take care of Lara and watch out for my step-sister.”

  “You mean Marian?”

  “No, I meant Lara’s mother. His daughter by his second marriage.”

  “I thought Lara’s mother—your stepsister—was dead?” Dane asked.

  “Yes, but she called for my father to come and care for Lara before she passed. His second wife died violently and he’s been overly protective of all of us since. Even of Spartak. His father is still in Russia, my only remaining sibling.”

  “It’s no accident you ended up with this parish.” Dane said.

  “I knew who my step-sister was. And there was Lara. I had lobbied to be in this parish to be near family and I didn’t know Anatoly would end up here.” He paused. “I have mixed feelings about this.”

  “But let me guess—he’s winning you over.”

  “Yes.” He smiled that strange smile again—happy and sad at the same time.

  “I bet he’s a generous supporter of the parish,” Shana said.

  Father D laughed. “Yes, that’s been a nice added benefit.”

  Dane considered the man then said, “I’m not going to ask you if any of the crap you told us about the women is true—I’m assuming you wanted to lead us to the Garage Club to find Lara, but without giving away your father’s operation.” Dane nodded approval at the man. The priest’s face was battered and his arm was in a sling. “You’re a brave man and a good priest in spite of any flaws you might have and in spite of certain family members.”

  “I take that as high praise, but don’t be too hard on my father. You are a lot alike.”

  Before Dane could respond to that, Sister Anne showed up at the door and waved at him for his attention like she was a schoolgirl with the right answer.

  “Hi—what is it?” Shana said.

  “Come with me. There’s someone here who wants to meet with you.” She darted a glance between Shana and Dane.

  Dane said to Father D, “Take care of your family.” Then he and Shana followed Sister Anne to Father Donahue’s office. It was the same serious room that Dane recalled before, but there was the smell of a decent cigar in the air. He looked over to the big chair by the
fireplace and saw why.

  Anatoly Ivanov sat in Father Donahue’s favorite chair with his feet up, smoking a cigar.

  “Hello, Dane. Shana.” He nodded respectfully toward each of them. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t get up. I am old.” He gestured for them to sit down and they did.

  “Anatoly. You’re taking a chance coming here, aren’t you?”

  “You tell me, my good friend. Should I be worried?”

  Dane shook his head. “A deal is a deal.”

  “Except when it’s not,” Toly said. They both laughed, both remembering the old days.

  “We appreciated your help with this case, Mr. Ivanov,” Shana said. She sounded sincere.

  “Sure, Toly—you gave up a lot of men to the cause in this one.” Dane didn’t want to say it, but they were both thinking that he’d given up his own grandson.

  “I’d do it again. This time it would be easier, because I’d know I could trust you. With the lives of my granddaughter and great-granddaughter.”

  If Dane wasn’t hallucinating, he’d swear the tough old guy had tears.

  “You’re old and soft and crazy. Least I could do was help you out.”

  He laughed. “I like you, Dane Blaise. I always did. Biggest balls I ever met.” He turned to Shana. “This is true. Did he ever tell you about—”

  “Another time, Toly.” Dane had no idea what story he was about to tell, but none of them were for polite company. Not even for Shana.

  Shana said, “Chicken.” But her eyes were disappointed.

  Toly said, “Okay. Time for business then. I am glad you were able to convince the feds to leave an old man alone. I have a bonus for you—”

  “We can’t take—” Shana said.

  “Hold on, Toly,” Dane said. “Father Donahue is our client, not you. Let’s make that perfectly clear.”

  “Yes. I see. I know which side of the fence you are on. You have this Beachcomber Investigations business—it suits you—a beachcomber. Father Donahue told me he hired you. I am authorized to pay you, on behalf of Father Donahue, my son,” he gave Dane a pointed look. Dane had to smile at that, noting the pride.

  Toly slipped an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Dane. Shana shifted in her seat.

  “Don’t worry, my dear, I am not forgetting you. You played a crucial part in this and I am especially grateful—on behalf of your client—”

  “I get it,” she said, barely containing an eyeroll.

  Toly took another envelope form his pocket and handed it to her. Shana, being the greedy one in their partnership, opened her envelope and slipped out a check. She skimmed her eyes across it and looked up with a big bright smile. She reminded Dane then of some of the mercenaries he used to work with.

  “You look like you won the lottery.”

  “No—I earned this. Thank you, Toly—thank Father Donahue for me too.”

  “You can thank him yourself,” Toly said.

  Dane stood. “No, it’s time for us to leave. I know a backdoor we can use.”

  Shana stood too, but not without a moment of regret passing across her face, that wistful look, like she was leaving a piece of her heart behind named Paulette.

  But in the next moment, the look was gone and they shook Toly’s hand as the old man stood.

  “Dane Blaise, I don’t need to tell you I owe you. Big. Everything. You can name it.”

  “Don’t worry, Toly. You’ll probably die of old age before I think of a reason to call in any favors.”

  The man gave an uproarious laugh and Shana gave Dane a smack on his arm.

  “The beachcomber name definitely suits you,” he said. He nodded in Shana’s direction and said to Dane, “Take care of her. Don’t let her run away.”

  Dane ignored the comment and said, “’Til we meet again.”

  Dane let Shana go out the door before him and Toly had one more parting remark.

  He winked and said, “Invite me to the wedding.”

  Dane felt like he hadn’t slept in a month, but two days without sleep was plenty to cause his weariness these days. It was twilight and he could see lights twinkling off the Vineyard Haven harbor. He and Shana got out of the taxi in his driveway. He thought about opening her door, but he would only be doing it to compete—and he wasn’t about competing. He paid the driver and walked around back to his patio, deciding he needed to breathe the sea air more than he needed to sleep at that moment. It had been a very long, seemingly endless day.

  Shana had been heading to the backdoor, but followed him around back of the house instead. It was a good thing—he’d need to prepare her for what she’d see once she went inside.

  When he rounded the corner of the house he spotted Sassy Stevens sitting on the stoop of his back patio staring out at the harbor and the ocean beyond. Or so he figured.

  “Hey.” He walked over and stood in his favorite spot on the patio and joined her in admiring the view.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to wait here until you came back,” she said.

  “I’m glad you did,” Shana said. “I wanted to thank you for—well, going above and beyond the call of duty sounds so trite and clichéd, but it’s more than true.”

  Sassy stood and Shana gave her a hug. Dane did not join in. He remembered Sassy’s reticence about men. He wasn’t as insensitive a jerk as Shana sometimes … experienced.

  When Sassy broke off her hug with Shana and waved him in, he was surprised. And pleased. He stepped over and gave Sassy as fatherly a hug as he’d ever given anyone and didn’t mind that he found himself in the arms of two warm, happy women. But nothing lasted forever.

  The group hug broke apart and Sassy said, “I’m glad I could help you out—I liked it. You know I only work part-time as a pastry chef. If you ever need help again let me know.” She backed up a step and gave them each a hopeful smile.

  “I doubt we’ll be needing any babysitting services any time soon,” Dane said.

  “Well not for a while,” Shana added with a false chuckle.

  “I wasn’t talking about help with babysitting services,” Sassy said. “I meant with the investigations. I’m taking online classes. Cap says I have nerve and nerve is more than half of what it takes.”

  “From what Shana told me, and what I saw at Cap’s house,” Dane said, “I’ve got to give you that—you do have nerve. Cap is right.”

  Sassy treated him to her pretty smile and shuffled her feet under the big flowing purple dress she wore. But when he heard the crunch of footsteps on his driveway, he switched his attention and tensed. Until he saw who it was.

  “Speak of the devil—if it isn’t Cap himself.” Perfect timing. He didn’t know how to tell Sassy they wouldn’t be calling her to help out with investigations. But since Cap was the one who’d given encouragement to her ambitions, he could help out with the bubble bursting.

  “Mission completed, I take it,” Cap said, addressing all three of them.

  Dane nodded, then said, “Sassy here was just telling us about her investigating ambitions. Thinks she might like to help us out in the future.” Dane kept the pointed tone from his voice, but Cap got him.

  Then Shana spoke up and surprised him.

  “I think it’s a great idea—we could always use help—it could be like an internship. Of course we couldn’t let you get involved with anything dangerous—”

  “It’s a little late for worrying about exposing her to danger, don’t you think?” Cap said.

  “Sure, but that wasn’t planned,” Dane spoke up. He did not like where this was going. The last thing he needed was to mentor a barely adult girl who was half afraid of men and baked pies for a living. He added, “It’s a big career change, Sassy. A big step. Maybe you ought to sleep on it. Make sure you don’t get any nightmares after today’s…. activities.”

  “I’ll be damn lucky if I don’t have any nightmares,” Cap said.

  “We all will,” Shana said and looked at Dane. He didn’t mention that his nightmares had neve
r stopped. Not even when he was awake.

  Sassy nodded her head with a serious look. “You’re probably right. But still. Let me know if you need any help—I mean with anything at all.”

  “We absolutely will, Sassy.” Shana gave the girl one last hug and Sassy stepped off the patio to the driveway and toward the street. Dane took Shana’s hand and squeezed. As much as he wanted to—needed to—move past this damn baby case, he knew Shana would be wistful about the baby.

  “See you at the bakery. Save me some key lime pie,” Dane called after Sassy before she disappeared around the corner.

  Sassy turned and smiled at him and said, “You never know—I bet there will be another baby in your future—sooner than you may think.”

  Dane shuddered at the notion, not bothering to hide his automatic fear. Shana felt his reaction and tugged away from him. He clamped onto her hand to stop her.

  “She’s walking home. She must live close by,” Dane said. He felt uneasy about that prospect even though he had nothing against the young woman. He’d forever associate her with babies. In spite of the good outcome in this case, the whole thing still knotted his gut. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get past that.

  “So what’s this I hear about you not liking babies?” Cap asked. Dane didn’t like his speculative look.

  “Baby cases. I don’t like baby cases.”

  Cap raised a brow. Dane pulled Shana in closer to him. Thank God she didn’t resist. And she kept her mouth shut. Maybe this case hadn’t ended so badly, but the stress on his heart leading up to the happy ending could have killed an elephant.

  “It’s a long story. Another time,” Dane said.

  Shana gave Cap a look that said maybe never. Dane didn’t contradict her skeptical look.

  “Never mind,” Cap said. “So where are you going to live now?” he asked Shana.

  “How did you know I was moving?”

  “Your landlady called me looking for you. She told me you have to leave unless you can afford to pay the weekly summer rental.” Cap waited a beat. Dane held his tongue. She had to decide what she was doing. He could only push her so far.