A Woman To Blame (19 page)

Bryn stopped loosening the soil and propped her wrist on the edge of the curved terra-cotta container. "I, uh, had to do something with those petunias lining the walkway to the Crab Shack. There are enough here to fill the two containers on your deck."

"All red ones?"

"Yes, is that okay?" she asked, pushing back the royal blue broad-brimmed straw hat to brush perspiration from her brow.

"I wouldn't let you plant them if they weren't red," he said teasingly.

"Why not?" she asked, reaching for a flowering plant from the flat next to her knees.

He studied her as prickles started down his spine. Even in their earliest encounters, she'd never sounded as stilted as she did now.

Dropping his foot to the bottom step, he leaned forward to rest his arms on his thighs. Maybe he was the one having a strange morning. Time was speeding by; the sports festival was a week away. Pappy would be well enough to come home for it, and that meant Bryn's time on Malabar Key was coming to an end. Rubbing his eyes, he reminded himself that he was the man he was today because of self-discipline. Looking up at her, he said gently, "I'll always associate the color red with you."

Patting the soil around the petunia, she lifted the small watering can, splashing a generous amount at the base of the plant. "I'm driving up to Key Largo today," she said, ignoring what he'd said. "Some people by the name of Dixon want their pool cabana redecorated." Muddy water spilled over the edge and onto her thighs. "Damn," she muttered, smearing the spill as she tried to brush it off.

"Here," Rick said, jumping to his feet and taking the watering can from her hand. "I'll rinse you off."

"Don't. Please don't, I can do it myself."

Relinquishing the can to her, he sank back onto the step. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I just made a mess, that's all," she said with an exaggerated shrug.

"I'm not talking about that and you know it," he said quietly as he stood, then helped her to her feet. "Come on, Bryn, where's that easy flow between us? What's happened? Is it Pappy again?" That had to be it. "Bryn, I'm sorry. I've been so wrapped up in my work and the sports festival, I never asked you how that conversation went with you and Pappy."

When he reached for her chin, she twisted away from him. "I took part of your advice. I didn't mention Uncle Ron to him, but I did tell him that I'd forgiven him for not being there for me all those years."

"How'd he take it?"

"He was fine with it," she said, shaking her head.

"Then it's something I said?" he asked, placing his hand on his chest.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky, but the air seemed to vibrate with coming thunder.

"Rick, it's what you haven't said."

Walking away from him, she knew he would follow by the suspicious look on his face. Or maybe that was a fearful look. Either way, the morning was about to become a lot more difficult because she refused to push aside the matter with lighthearted bantering, more talk on the fund-raiser, or soul-shattering love-making. Kicking off her sandals, she walked in the ankle-deep aquamarine water lapping gently on the fine sand by his house. Reaching the mangroves, she turned around, bumping into Rick's broad chest. She'd give almost anything to press her face against the comforting mass of warm muscle and steady heartbeat and forget the inevitable for a while longer. But she'd laid most of her cards on the table with her grandfather, and she was going to do the same with Rick.

"What's this about?" he demanded.

"It's about what Liza and Pappy offered to tell me weeks ago, but I refused to listen to them because I was sure you'd tell me sooner or later. It's about last week when you were in the parking lot at Pappy's. Jiggy let something slip out and everyone there went silent. It's about that beautiful house up there, with no flowers in the planters and no photographs on the walls except for trophy fish. It's about you always having an excuse when I mention going out to those little islands out there," she said pointing to the dark green clumps dotting the flat expanse of glimmering aquamarine beyond his side yard. The words rushed out and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Pressing a hand to her chest, she continued. "You told me about Sharon Burke and I understood. Rick, why don't you ever mention your ex-wife to me? What does everyone around here know that I don't?"

"I didn't divorce my wife," he said quietly.

She couldn't have been more shocked if he'd pushed her face first into the shallow water. Staring at him, she waited for the sharp pain in her heart to subside. When she realized it was going to be there for some time to come, she let the next question form on her lips. "You're still married?"

"No."

"But—"

"Bryn, my wife died five years ago. I don't know why I never got around to telling you that," he said as he slipped his sunglasses on. "I guess I've put it all behind me."

No he hadn't. His thin smile and bowed head told her that much and more. With more confusion than she thought she was capable of experiencing, Bryn reached out to take his hand. No matter what unnamed threat his manner presented, Rick Parrish was the man she loved. And right now he needed her understanding. "Lord, Rick, I'm so sorry. I should have just asked it instead of letting my imagination run wild. I had no business blurting this out and jumping all over you about it."

He pulled her close with one arm and walked her back down the beach toward the little dock in front of his house. Reaching for her sandals, he held them against his middle and took a deep breath. He looked as if he were going to say something, but he shook his head instead. "Forget it. It's all in the past."

No it isn't, not for you and me anyway,
she wanted to say, but she held her tongue while Rick sat her down on the edge of the dock. Brushing the sand from her feet, he slipped her sandals on while he talked about the obstacle course he and several men were working on for the 10K race. All smiles now, he started describing the planned course in detail. His tone was reminiscent of a moment they'd shared in Key West a few weeks ago. She'd mentioned how little she knew about him and he'd blown off the comment, telling her about a used piano for sale instead.

Neither issue mattered to Bryn. The used piano sat ready and waiting at Pappy's Crab Shack. The obstacle course would be marked in plenty of time for the 10K race next week. The only thing that did matter was the man who still loved Angie.

Chapter 9

As Bryn stapled a spray of metallic stars above the bar at Pappy's, a cheer went up for another finisher in the 10K race in the parking lot below. Feeling anything but cheery, she made a perfunctory stretch to see over the rail. The last thing she wanted was a question about her mood.

"You ought to be down there running in that race, Brynnie," Pappy Madison said as he pushed a section of an orange through Miss Scarlett's cage. "I don't need a babysitter."

Bryn looked down from her place on the step-ladder. "I'm not babysitting you. I volunteered along with them to decorate for the ball tonight," she said, waving her staple gun toward the three other people in the bar. "And need I remind you that tonight is also the official reopening of the new and improved Pappy's Crab Shack?"

Turning himself slowly around with the aid of his aluminum walker, he took in every detail of his bar. "Ah, Brynnie," he said in a husky whisper. "You did one hell of a fine job."

Without stopping to think, she said, "I couldn't have done it without Rick's input. He knew what would work and what wouldn't."

"Where is Rick? I thought I'd see him here this morning."

Keeping his distance from me,
she wanted to say, but didn't. Talking about Rick and their relationship was the last thing she wanted now that she knew that Angie Parrish was still a part of Rick's life. Besides, what else could her grandfather tell her? That Rick had loved his wife? She knew that, and she also knew that he
still
loved her.

"Rick's one of the volunteers on the obstacle course over near Johnson's Cove. He's making sure no one drowns in the mud hole." When her grandfather didn't say anything, she checked to see that he was still there. He was. With his face raised in her direction, his thoughtful expression made her suspect he was up to something. "Do you need to see Rick about the Crab Shack? Is everything the way you wanted it?"

Her grandfather's bony shoulders moved in a shrug. "I wouldn't change a thing."

Relieved that he wasn't asking questions about her deteriorating relationship with Rick, she turned back to arrange the clusters of flexible metal stems into sprays of shooting stars. Until a week ago she and Rick had sat out on his deck almost every night, staring at the stars before they went to bed. She would snuggle between his legs, with his arms around her, and they'd take turns with his telescope while he pointed out the constellations. Once she'd asked him what the brightest star was that he'd ever seen.

"You are," he said. "You glow, Miss Madison." Placing a kiss on her cheek, he pointed to a twinkling body high above the darkened horizon. "You light up the night sky like that wishing star."

While she thought about that time, another round of cheering started gathering momentum down in the parking lot. This time she ignored it. Pulling on the shiny metal stems in her hand, she let go, allowing the stars to bounce around in a controlled explosion of reflected light. She'd never look at stars again without listening for the waves lapping against Rick's dock and feeling for Rick's body pressing against her back.

"Brynnie, have you thought any more about my offer?"

Shoving the star-tipped stems against the wooden rack in front of her, she jammed the stapler hard against them. "Please, Grandfather, don't start on that again. You're going to be able to run the Crab Shack without me just fine. Tweed MacNeil promised to tend bar as long as you need him, Misty and Shaniqua are starting back waiting tables tonight, and Rick and Jiggy are here to help you up and down the stairs until you can do it yourself." Raising her hand, she silenced his attempted reply long enough to add, "And you know I already have my own business to run."

"You could live here and run that too," he insisted. "You've been running it from Malabar Key all summer. And I'm an old man. A crippled old man."

When she opened her mouth to speak, he thumped away from her with his walker.

"We'll sit down and talk about it after this fundraiser is over."

Before she could reply, he was halfway across the room to where the mermaid mural was being repainted on the wall opposite the bar.

Calling to him over her shoulder, she said, "You're becoming stubborn in your old age, Grandfather."

"Am not," he said, not bothering to turn around. "Hey, Freddie, I remember my mermaid's, uh, scales being bigger."

"If her 'scales' were any bigger, she'd sink. I think you were in the hospital too long, Pappy," Freddie said.

Everyone in the room hooted with laughter except Bryn. In her case, their beloved Pappy
had
been in the hospital too long. She was beginning to suspect that what was love for her, was simply another affair for Rick. And now that appeared to be winding down.

Already she'd begun to feel him withdrawing from her. Once he'd made a game of sharing long, hot looks with her in a crowded room. Now he looked away the second she tried locking in his gaze. Their easy flow of conversation had dried up to a trickle, leaving her with an anxious feeling that anything she said would sound forced. His work at the marina had suddenly picked up too. At least, that's what he told her when she'd invited him to dinner the night her grandfather came home.

Nothing was the same since she'd asked him about Angie. Nothing except the sex. Through the last week, that hadn't changed, and in fact had somehow increased in intensity. He managed stolen moments with her in out-of-the-way places, with each torrid coupling more passionate than the last. Where or when mattered little to either of them. She went with him without shame, at night in the storeroom below the Crab Shack, during her morning run on the beach at the end of Marina Road, and yesterday, at dawn, inside the cabin of the
Coral Kiss.
She smiled at the last memory; they'd knocked the boxed lunches onto the floor during their lovemaking.