At Hidden Falls (Angel's Bay Novel) (27 page)

And she felt it, too. The only thing that made him feel marginally better was that she was worried about falling for him as much as he was about falling for her. Isabella had been rejected before by people she cared about. She’d also lost someone she loved. There was a vulnerability in her that made him want to put his arms around her and tell her that she didn’t have to keep running, that she didn’t have to keep pretending that nothing bothered her.

She’d said he had guard walls, but so did she. Hers were just masked by smiles and laughter. But, like him, she kept people at a distance, even though they didn’t realize it.

With a sigh, he headed back down the trail, making quick time getting home. When he entered the kitchen, Megan was sitting at the table eating cereal and reading a magazine, earphones in her ears.

He motioned for her to remove them, which she did with a reluctant frown.

“What?” she asked impatiently.

His daughter was very good at going on the offensive, but he was getting used to it. “I’m glad you’re up. The sand-castle contest starts in an hour.”

Dismay ran across her face. “I thought you were joking about that.”

“Not a chance. I’m very good at building things. We have a good shot at winning.” He lifted the canvas bag he’d picked up from his parents earlier and pulled out a red shovel and a matching pail. “I have supplies.”

“For a five-year-old, maybe,” she said with disdain.

“They’ll work.”

“I can’t do it. I have other plans.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Hanging with my friends.”

“Like the friend on the motorcycle? Was that Will Harlan?”

She flushed a little at the reminder. “He’s nice, and he likes me. I don’t know why you had to be such a jerk yesterday.”

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just . . . talking.”

“You weren’t exactly talking.”

She flushed angrily. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m your father.” He saw her roll her eyes, but he wasn’t backing down. “We should maybe discuss . . . stuff.”

“You mean sex?” she asked bluntly.

“Have you had sex?” he asked, appalled at the thought.

“No—not exactly.” Despite her bold conversation, her cheeks turned red. “I’m not going to talk about this with you.”

He wondered what
not exactly
meant, but he didn’t have the guts to ask. “You should speak to someone. You need to be safe.”

“I know how to be safe. I’m not stupid.” She got up from the table, took her bowl to the sink, and dumped it out. Then she turned to him, hands on her hips, stubborn determination in her eyes. “Stop trying to be my father. It’s too late.”

“I’m not trying to be your father. I
am
your father,” he said forcefully. “I am going to ask you questions and expect answers. And I will do everything I can to protect you and keep you out of trouble. I want you to have a good life. Late or not, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” He saw the doubt in her eyes. “You have to believe that, Megan. I didn’t give you reason to trust me in the past, but I mean what I say. You’re my first priority.”

“You say that now, but—”

“But nothing. I mean what I say,” he repeated. “I’m not your mother.” It was the first time he’d said something openly critical of Kendra, but there it was.

Megan looked a little surprised, as if she couldn’t believe anyone else saw her mother the way she did. “How would I know that you’re not like her?”

“You’ll have to give me some time to show you. I’m not lying. I would do anything for you.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

She put her earphones back in and went down the hall to her room. Two steps forward, one step back. But he was making progress.

“Finally, I get my big brother for a meal,” Isabella said as the waitress at Dina’s Café set down two large breakfast orders. They’d gone all out, ordering pancakes, eggs, bacon, and hash browns.

“Sorry,” Joe said, giving her an apologetic smile. “I haven’t been around much since you got here.”

“You’ve been busy. How did the search party go?” Joe had told her about the rock being thrown through Charlotte’s window the night before and the quick search party he’d organized to go up into the hills to look for Annie. He had a hunch that Annie’s father, a recluse, might be involved in her disappearance.

“We didn’t find anything, but we only covered a small area. I’m hoping to get a bigger search group organized for tomorrow. Once we hit the work week, fewer people will be available.”

“I’d be happy to come.”

“Then you’re on.” He paused, discomfort flitting through his eyes. “I was wondering about something.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Your sixth sense—does it work for finding missing persons?”

“You don’t believe in a sixth sense,” she said, hoping he’d refute it. “And I know that over the years you’ve worked with psychics you thought were scam artists.”

“That’s true, but you’re my sister, and I know you’re sincere.”

“What are you asking me, Joe?”

“Do you have any idea where Annie is?”

“No. But . . .” She hesitated, not sure she wanted to put herself out there.

“But what?” he prodded.

“If you gave me something that belonged to her, that she wore or touched, maybe I’d see something. I can’t say for sure. I usually only have insight into people I’m emotionally connected to.” She was touched that he would even consider asking for her help, but she had her doubts. “Most of what I see isn’t even decipherable.”

“I know it’s a long shot, but I’ll ask Charlotte for something of Annie’s—just in case.”

“How is Charlotte?”

“I spoke to her briefly this morning. No more trouble at her house, so that’s good.”

“I’m glad.” She sipped her coffee. “I know you’ve been busy, but have you thought any more about calling Rachel back?”

His gaze was steady and cool. “Don’t push, Izzy. Some things are beyond repair.”

“You like Charlotte, don’t you?”

He signed. “How many ways do I have to say it’s not your business?”

“Come on, Joe, I’m your sister. If you can’t talk to me, who can you talk to?”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone. And if you don’t get your nose out of my business, I’m going to start poking into yours. Maybe I’ll have a little chat with Nick Hartley.”

She held up a quick hand. “Okay, I’ll back off.”

They ate quietly for a few moments, then she said, “I meant to tell you that I spoke to Fiona about the shipwreck and our ancestors. It turns out Beatriz, who co-created the original quilt, is related to us. She and her husband, Miguel, and their two boys survived the wreck—the only family that was intact getting to shore.”

He scooped up a forkful of eggs. “You’ve got that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“You’re getting hooked on this town. I’ve seen it happen more than once, especially when people find out they’re related to one of the founders.”

“The town has a fascinating history,” she said. “I wonder if anyone will ever find the shipwreck.”

“Who knows? But in the last couple of months, a few things have washed ashore, including the ship’s bell. It’s at the museum if you want to check it out.”

“Why hasn’t anyone been able to locate the ship, with all the advances in electronics and technology?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea, but I’m hoping Angel’s Bay doesn’t suddenly become the site of a salvage operation. There have been some queries since the bell came to light. And then there’s the damn angels,” he grumbled, taking another sip of his coffee.

“What angels?” she asked, intrigued.

“The ones people like to pretend they see flying around the north point of the cliff, allegedly carving out some map to the hidden treasure or some other cryptic message. To me, it looks like just cracks and crevices created by the wind and waves and saltwater spray.”

“Now, there’s the pragmatic brother I know and love. I’d like to see an angel! How cool would that be?”

He laughed. “Very cool and completely impossible.”

“I don’t believe that anything is completely impossible. I’ll have to take a look at that cliff. Maybe I can figure it out.”

“Maybe you can,” he said with a grin.

“You love all this stuff, too, Joe—that’s why you don’t want to come home.”

“Angel’s Bay is my home now,” he agreed.

She slowly nodded. “Yes, I can see that. You’re connected. All those loose threads from the past are tying you here.”

“Not everything is a metaphor for sewing. But I’m sure you’ll be working on the Angel’s Bay quilt in no time.”

“I’d love to work on that quilt.” she said eagerly. “Do they remake it?”

“Every chance they get,” he said dryly. “So what are your plans for the day?”

“I hear there’s something happening at the beach. I thought I’d check it out. Do you want to come with me?”

“I wish I could, but I want to get down to the station.”

“You do have people who work for you,” she reminded him.

“I know, but the longer Annie is gone, the less chance we have of finding her.”

“Any more leads on the biological father?”

“I’ve set up DNA tests for tomorrow, but we won’t have the results for a while.”

“Nick’s sister, Tory, seems pretty concerned about her husband.”

“She probably should be,” Joe said heavily. “He’s not acting like an innocent man.”

Isabella sighed. “I really like her. She’s been so welcoming to me. I hope it doesn’t turn out to be her husband who cheated.”

After leaving Dina’s Café, Isabella walked toward the beach. It was a gorgeous Sunday, and there was a festive air, as if everyone realized that the sunny days of fall would soon be giving way to winter, so it was time to enjoy the great weather while they had it.

At the far end of downtown, she joined a throng of people walking down a hilly trail that led from the bluffs to a wide spread of sandy beach. A judging table stacked with trophies and ribbons was on a temporary riser. Speakers had been set up, and a young teenage band was warming up. Sand-castle-building stations were marked by thin sticks with colored flags.

As the warm sun beat down on her shoulders, she took her sweater off and tied it around her waist.

“Hey, Isabella,” Tory called.

She turned, shading her eyes, to see Tory approaching. The other woman was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and carrying a bucket and a shovel. She looked more relaxed than the last time Isabella had seen her. “Hi. How are you?”

“Great. Are you building or spectating?”

“Definitely spectating. Looks like you’re going to be digging.”

“No just bringing in some extra equipment,” she said with a smile. “Nick and Megan have entered the contest.”

“Really? Where are they?”

“Over there.” Tory pointed toward a spot near the water. “Come with me?”

Isabella didn’t even think of refusing. She wanted to see Nick again. She hadn’t dreamed about him last night, or if she had, she’d forgotten, because for the first time in a while, she’d woken up feeling refreshed, eager to face the day, excited to see him again.

Not that she anticipated a warm welcome. Nick had no doubt put his walls back up. He’d started withdrawing the minute he’d put on his clothes the day before, and she couldn’t blame him. The intensity between them had blown both of them away, and she wasn’t any more certain of what to do about it than he was.

So she would play things light and easy, the way she knew how . . .

But as soon as Nick looked up and saw her, she realized it wasn’t going to be easy at all. She sucked in a quick breath as his dark gaze settled on her mouth, and memories of their afternoon together flashed through her mind, lighting up all of her senses. She cleared her throat, hoping she wasn’t giving anything away, but she hadn’t expected to feel so much with one simple look.

Fortunately, Tory distracted Nick by handing him her bucket and shovel. “Here you go,” she said.

“Thanks,” Nick replied, barely giving his sister a glance. “How are you, Isabella?”

“Good. I’m good,” she added, feeling a little awkward despite her best intentions.

A slow smile crossed his lips. “Me, too.”

She quickly glanced away. She needed to look at someone who wouldn’t make her blood pressure shoot up. “Hey, Megan.”

“Hey,” Megan replied with her usual sulky, bored expression. She sat cross-legged on the beach, her gaze toward the ocean, as if she couldn’t care less what was going on behind her.

“You were lucky to get a spot so close to the water,” Tory put in. “It’s important to build the foundation with wet sand.”

Nick gave his sister a disgusted look. “I know what to do. I’m an architect.”

“Of sand?” she challenged, a grin on her face.

“It’s not that different. And if you want to build a castle, pay your own entry fee and get a spot.”

“I can’t help?” Tory asked. “It looks like fun.”

“She can help,” Megan said, glancing over her shoulder.

“Nope, not a chance. This is a father-daughter project,” he said firmly. “No sisters allowed.”

“It’s a stupid project,” Megan threw in as she got up and ambled across the sand toward them.

Despite her attitude, Isabella had a feeling that the teenager wasn’t completely unaffected by her father’s attempt to win her over. She just didn’t want to show that she cared. In Megan’s world, loving someone usually meant losing them.

As Isabella’s gaze moved to Tory, she saw a flash of pain cross her face. Nick’s casual reference to his father-daughter project had obviously hurt her in some way.

“I’ll be back,” Tory muttered, walking away.

“Now you pissed her off,” Megan told him.

Nick frowned, looking from his daughter to Isabella. “Why would she care that I want to do this with Megan?”

“I think it reminded her of the baby she doesn’t have. I’m sure she’d like nothing more than a mother-daughter moment.”

“Shit!” He cast a quick look at Megan. “I’d better go talk to her. Do you want to get started?”

“I’ll wait,” Megan said unenthusiastically, flopping down onto the sand again.

Isabella sat next to Megan as Nick went off to find Tory. For a minute, they just watched the waves gathering offshore.