Low Country Hero

by Lee Tobin McClain

  Hayley and Hope ran over to her, pushing into her sides.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if I can explain it. It’s down by the beach. Have them wear old clothes or swimsuits, if they have them.”

  “It won’t... It’s okay to take the time off work?”

  “I’m the boss,” he said with a wink that transformed his face from handsome to devilish.

  Oh my. “Run and change into your swimsuits, girls,” she said.

  “You could do that, too,” he said, his voice playful. “Cool off, have some fun with your girls.”

  He wanted her to put on a swimsuit? No way. But the comment, however he’d meant it, brought her back to reality. Reminded her of the quick hookups most men wanted from women, at least women like her, and she wasn’t up for that.

  No matter how attractive Sean was.

  She straightened. “I don’t think so. We’ll be right out.”

  Ten minutes later, the four of them approached a shallow tide pool rimmed by a small bridge of sand. “We don’t get real tide pools,” he explained, “but every now and then we get a temporary one. And even more rarely, one that’s deep enough to have animals in it.”

  Hope and Hayley stopped dead, stared at Sean with wide eyes and then ran to the edge of the pool.

  She chuckled. “They think you mean dogs and squirrels and such.”

  “You pretty much read their minds, don’t you?” He was studying her, a curious smile softening the sharp planes of his face.

  Heat rose in her cheeks. She wasn’t sure whether to be proud or ashamed of that ability, born of necessity. “Kind of.”

  He walked forward, slowly, and knelt between the girls. Not close, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “See the starfish?” he asked, and pointed.

  Anna’s heart melted a little. Such a big man, yet so sensitive to the anxiety of a couple of little girls.

  A small fish jumped, and Hayley let out a squeal, then clapped her hands over her mouth. Hope giggled, then nudged Sean’s arm and pointed at a crab that had climbed out of the water and was waving its claws.

  “They’re all stuck here by the tide,” Sean explained. “When the tide comes back in—when the water gets deep here again—they’ll swim back out to sea.” He leaned forward and scooped something up. Then he sat back between Hope and Hayley. “This guy is a hermit crab,” he explained. “See his legs and antennae sticking out of his little house?”

  Hayley squinted at the crab, then turned her puzzled face to Sean. She wanted to ask what he meant by “house.”

  Did she want to know badly enough to speak in front of him?

  Sean smiled at her. “He lives in a shell, see? Like a turtle. He takes his house with him wherever he goes.”

  By now, both twins were staring alternately at the crab and then at Sean, eyes wide.

  “Touch it,” he encouraged, and Hayley did, with one finger.

  Anna stayed several feet behind them, listening as Sean explained more features of the tide pool and identified whelks and snails and various types of fish.

  Hayley stuck her bare foot in the pool, then looked up at Anna, eyebrows raised.

  “Is it safe for them to put their feet in?”

  “Uh-huh. If they actually stepped on a crab, they might get a tiny pinch, but nothing that would really hurt.”

  Hayley immediately plunked her other foot in and started wading, while Hope tested the water with one hesitant toe.

  Sean rose to his feet, unfolding gracefully for such a large man, and stepped back to stand beside Anna. “My brothers and I always used to get excited when a good deep tide pool formed,” he explained. “When I saw this one, I figured your girls would feel the same.”

  “They do.” She gestured at where they were both squatting down in the water, studying some small creature. “Thank you,” she added, looking up at him. “They haven’t...well, they haven’t seen much of the world. This is so good for them.”

  “I figured.”

  “It’s that obvious?” She’d hoped all the things she’d done to compensate for their limited opportunities—reading aloud, singing, watching public television—had worked.

  He shrugged. “Being three boys, we probably had a little more freedom. But our young childhood was restricted, too. Maybe for the same reason.”

  Anna cocked her head and stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  He looked out across the water. “We didn’t always live in Safe Haven. We moved here, or tried to, with our mom, when I was thirteen.”

  Tried to. “You must have succeeded,” she said, “if you’re here now. Right?”

  “We three boys succeeded.”

  His flat words pressed down on Anna. “What about your mom?” Then she flushed. If he wanted her to know, he’d have told her. “I’m sorry. Your history is none of my business.”

  He blew out a breath, still looking out to sea, like he was trying to figure out how to answer. “We don’t know what happened to her. All I know is, our dad...got to her.” There was the slightest catch to his voice. Not noticeable unless you were paying close attention.

  But Anna heard it. And she saw the muscle that jumped in his cheek. She put a hand on his arm, her whole chest aching. “Were you staying with family? Did she just not come back or something?”

  He turned his head and looked at her, his eyes dark pools of unreadable emotion. “We were staying at the Safe Haven Women’s Center. It was a residential shelter back then.” He paused, looked away. “I saw my father shove Mom into his truck and drive off. But I couldn’t...” He broke off, shook his head, spread his hands and then stuffed them into his pockets. He was still gazing out toward the ocean.

  Anna put a hand over her mouth, staring at him. Every motherly atom in her body throbbed with the ache of what that kind of loss and uncertainty would mean for a child. “You never saw her again?”

  He shook his head. “The people who ran the women’s shelter back then, they did everything they could to locate her. But I was the only witness to him pushing her into his truck, and I was thirteen.” He lifted a shoulder in an elaborate shrug. “I tried when I was older, and my brother Liam—he’s a cop—he really tried, but she disappeared. So did our dad.”

  “Wow.” Anna’s throat tightened on the word, and she swallowed, looking up at him. “That must be so hard, not knowing.”

  “Uh-huh.” His lips clamped shut.

  Anna’s heart broke for him. All of his tough attitude, the parts of him that seemed closed off—the puzzle of Sean snapped together in a different way. How did you get over your father actually, probably, killing your mother?

  And yet he had gotten over it, enough to be kind and well liked, hardworking, gentle with the twins.

  She put a hand on his arm, gave it a brief stroke. She wanted to hold him, comfort him. Wanted to tell him she admired the man he’d become despite all the pain he’d faced in the past.

  But he took a couple of steps forward, knelt down and splashed a little water onto Hope, who squealed and splashed back, and the moment was over.

  They spent another half hour playing with the girls, Anna snapping photos on her phone, and then she checked the time and gasped. “I’m so sorry we spent all this time. I’ll work extra.”

  “It’s fine. I’m glad they had fun.”

  “But you didn’t have to—”

  “Anna.” He put a finger to his lips and shook his head. “Let someone do something nice for you.”

  His kindness made tears spring to her eyes, made her throat tighten. The implication was that she deserved nice treatment. But she didn’t deserve it, or at least, she’d never thought she did. She’d never gotten it, especially from men. What she’d gotten was neglect from her dad and abuse from Beau.

  Beau had told her no one else would ever want her, t
hat he was doing her a favor by being with her. She no longer believed that—at least, about the favor he was supposedly doing her—but she’d internalized his idea that no better man would want her, that no man would value her enough to treat her well.

  Sean O’Dwyer was making her question that notion for the first time.

  They gathered the girls and walked back toward the house. Both girls were yawning now, and Anna decided she’d get them to lie down on a blanket near where they were working this afternoon. With any luck, they’d have a nice nap and she could focus on work.

  They reached the little path to Anna’s cottage and she glanced over, expecting Sean to head for his place. Instead, he walked along with her. She opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it again.

  What had he said? Let someone do something nice for you.

  Okay. She would.

  Besides, walking in step with him was lovely.

  Suddenly, he stepped in front of her, nudging her back. It was so graceless, so unlike him, that she was startled.

  He put out an arm. “Stay back.”

  She did, and she stopped the girls, too, but she looked. And her jaw dropped as hurt and fear rushed back in, pushing away the day’s happy feelings.

  Across her car, spray painted in enormous letters, was one of Beau’s favorite names for her: slut.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AS RITA TOMLINSON left her apartment that evening, she felt the tiniest prickling of unease in the back of her neck.

  There was no reason for it. It was a beautiful day, a low bank of clouds to the west, sun sinking into them, blue skies overhead. The air felt soft, enveloping her in a gentle warmth worlds away from her busy, hardworking life in Maine.

  But she knew why she felt strange: Would this be the day that her past bubbled up to find her? And would that be a good thing or a bad one?

  Don’t dwell on it. She walked briskly toward a residential section of town. Her workout tights were feeling just that, tight. She did her best to keep her figure as good as it could be at her age, without stressing about it, which meant that exercise was imperative. Anyway, walking was fun, not a chore to her—she’d always loved it for the way it cleared her head.

  But the memories she’d hoped to rediscover here were nowhere to be found.

  When T-Bone had told her, on his deathbed, that he’d lied about finding her in the middle of nowhere, that he’d actually found her outside of a town called Safe Haven in South Carolina, he was too sick and near gone for her to stay mad at him for long. He’d saved her life all those years ago, and caring for him, forgiving him, as his own life ended had been the right thing to do.

  And then, after he’d passed, there’d been the details: selling his truck and the house they’d lived in, getting all the paperwork in order. They made their common-law marriage official toward the end, thanks to the black market ID one of T-Bone’s friends had found for her, so she inherited everything. But there wasn’t much once the bills had been paid off.

  She’d had friends in Maine, a life, but she’d had to quit her job to take care of T-Bone. And when the money had gotten low and she’d needed to get back to work, she’d felt a pull toward South Carolina.

  It was time to figure out what had happened between her dim inklings of a childhood, a courtship and an abusive marriage in the deep South, and waking up in Maine with a big, gentle trucker who’d taken her into his home and nursed her back to health.

  Figuring it out had meant selling off a lot of her things, packing up her car and moving. Here, for now; who knew where she’d end up later.

  Now that she was in Safe Haven, she liked the place. Just a couple of days in, she was pleased with the job and the town. It wouldn’t be a bad place to build a future.

  Unfortunately, though, there were no glimmerings of her past.

  “Hey, girl!”

  The friendly greeting surprised her, since she was new in town. But when she turned, she vaguely recognized the young blonde woman with the big smile and wide hips. “Hey, yourself. You work at the grocery, right?”

  The younger woman nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Claire. I’ve seen you around and heard you work over at the Southern Comfort.”

  “That’s right.”

  Claire fell into step beside her. “Sorry. If you’re not from a small town you might not know how in each other’s pockets we live around here. Everybody knows everything.”

  “I kinda figured. Where are you headed?”

  Claire grinned. “I try to take my evening walk at the same time the men’s rec league plays down at the park. Want to join me?”

  “I’ll walk a ways with you, sure. I’m just looking to get some exercise and get to know the town.”

  “Great.” Claire was breathing hard. “Man, I’m out of shape. I’ve got to take off some pounds.”

  “Noticed my leggings were a little tight, myself. That’s why I pushed myself to get out even though I was on my feet all morning.”

  “You and me both.” Claire looked sideways at her, assessing. “You look great, girl. I don’t see an extra ounce on you.”

  “The ounces just shift downward when you get to be my age.” Rita chuckled as they crossed the street. “I guess we all want what we don’t have. Look at you, with your hourglass figure and your smooth skin and pretty hair. I had some of that, when I was younger, but I didn’t appreciate it.”

  They passed a row of brick buildings housing the Safe Haven Gazette and the Rice-and-Indigo Museum, and Rita was tempted to stop and read a couple of plaques that told about the town. But the walk was for exercise. She settled for asking Claire. “Lots of history here, looks like.”

  Claire smiled. “Oh yeah, and there’s plenty of people will bend your ear about it.”

  They reached the park and Claire gestured toward its center. “You’re interested in history, check out The Tree. It’s supposed to be anywhere from five hundred to a thousand years old, depending on who you ask.”

  Rita studied the enormous trunk surrounded by stone benches that seemed to be the park’s focal point. Its gnarled branches reaching out in every direction, some so low they nearly touched the ground. “Beautiful.”

  “Sure is, but there’s some even-finer scenery over this way.” Claire picked up the pace, gesturing toward the basketball court, active with players.

  Rita chuffed out a laugh and followed along. Claire was a hoot. She hadn’t expected to make a friend this fast, but she loved it. When they reached the court, she recognized one of the cooks from the diner. There were other men, ranging in age from thirty to gray-haired.

  A man came out from behind another, side-arcing a perfect basket, and she actually stopped to watch because it was Jimmy. He was probably the oldest man there but he looked fitter than most.

  “I love it when they do shirts and skins,” Claire said fervently beside her, fanning herself as she looked wide-eyed at the players, her enjoyment obvious.

  Rita smiled her agreement. Jimmy wore a shirt, but it was a tight white T-shirt that showed his muscles and tattoos. Mercy.

  Coincidentally, or maybe not, the men took a water break. Jimmy drank deeply and then jogged over. “Hey, how’s my new employee enjoying the town?”

  “I like it.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Lots to look at.”

  He grinned. “To my mind, the scenery got better about two days ago.”

  “Aw, you’re just saying that.” What was she doing flirting with Jimmy? He was her boss in a job she liked. Not only that, but she was here for a reason: to figure out who she was. And who she was might be a good person or a bad person; she might have things to hide. She wasn’t going to play around with a guy until she knew more about herself and her past. She looked over at Claire. “I’m going to head out, get another half hour in before it rains,” she said.

  Jimmy heeded a shout from his friends and turne
d, gave them a quick “see ya” and jogged back into the game.

  “He’s built for an old guy,” Claire volunteered.

  Rita had to laugh at that. “Yes, he is. Is he a local, born here? For that matter, are you?”

  “Me, yes, I’ve lived my whole life on this little stretch of coast. Jimmy took over the café three or four years ago when his aunt and uncle wanted to retire. Moved here from somewhere north. After a divorce, maybe? Looking for a new start, I guess, like a lot of people around here.”

  “I thought this was a tourist town, but it seems like people come here and stay. Right?” As they walked, she was looking around, paying attention with half her mind to whether anything seemed familiar. But so far, nothing.

  Claire shrugged. “It’s a mix. Lots of us grew up here, but the beaches bring in tourists and retirees and some of ’em stay.” She glanced sideways at Rita. “What brought you here?”

  Rita shrugged. “Needed more sunshine in my golden years.” She wasn’t going to admit to more details. She liked Claire, but the woman was a talker—that was already clear.

  Claire sighed. “I’d like to get away, do some traveling. Everyone in town knows me as the plump gal who’s worked at the grocery forever. They think they’ve got me pegged.”

  “Why don’t you move? Something keeping you here?”

  “My folks.” Claire gestured toward the south. “Their health isn’t great. They couldn’t do too well without me.”

  “Then it’s good of you to stay.” Rita felt a qualm about her own family of origin. Had her parents passed on? Did she have siblings? She had a few dim memories of watching television with other kids and of swimming in a pool. That was all she remembered of her childhood.

  “Hey, lady!” Claire called out a greeting and stopped to wave at a woman on the steps of a church. “Come on over and meet my new friend.”

  Obviously, walking with Claire was going to have a lot of stops and starts, but Rita didn’t mind. She wanted to get to know the town, and that included the people in it. And she was flattered that a young woman like Claire already considered her a friend.

  The woman approached, a pretty, copper-skinned woman with beaded braids. She held out her hand. “I’m Yasmin.”