Colleen Coble (5 page)

F
OUR

T
he wind from the helicopter rotors kicked up the waves below them. Two women clinging to the swamped boat waved frantically. Curtis clipped Alec into the harness. “Clear!” He slapped Alec’s shoulder and stepped back.

Alec dangled his legs out the chopper door and gave him a thumbs-up. Curtis returned the gesture, and Alec shoved away from the door and plummeted into the sea. Curtis returned to the door and readied the basket for retrieval while he watched the rescue unfold below.

With strong, sure strokes, Alec reached the first of the women. Curtis waited while Alec talked to them. When Alec held up his thumb, Curtis lowered the basket.

The rescue was as routine as facing the wind and weather ever was. Ten minutes later both shivering women were aboard the aircraft. Sara swaddled them in wool blankets and checked them out. Other than being cold and thirsty, they were both fine.

“That wave came out of nowhere,” the older woman shouted above the roar of the rotors. She took a sip of the hot drink Sara had poured them. “One minute we were sailing along and making good time, and the next we were upside down.” Her dark blond hair hung in wet strings down her neck.

The sea was capricious. Curtis had heard the same story so many times over the years that he’d lost count. He leaned in so they could hear him. “Where you headed?”

“Hope Beach.” The younger woman studied him over the rim of her cup.

In her mid- to late twenties, she had long dark hair and eyes as deep blue as the waves she’d just been pulled from. She didn’t wear a wedding ring, which was a good thing with the flirtatious glances she was throwing his way. He’d hate to think a married woman would be so blatant. He shifted away.

“We’ll be landing on Hope Island.” Alec pulled down the top of his wetsuit and pulled on a sweatshirt over his goose-pebbled skin.

Her teeth still chattered. “We’re staying for a few weeks. Out at Tidewater Inn.”

“That’s my place,” Alec said. “It’s been in my wife’s family for years.”

She brightened and glanced at Curtis again. “That’s great! We’re here to help set up the campaign rally for Senator Kendrick.”

“I like him,” Curtis said. “I’m hoping to meet him when he comes for the rally. It’s not often we get to participate like this in an election season.”

The young woman tucked a strand of hair out of her eyes. “It will make for good media coverage.”

Curtis supposed it would. The senator reaching out to the often-forgotten segment of his voter pool would be appealing to constituents. He suspected the senator hadn’t thought about it like that though. It was clear these women considered every angle. “Are you his campaign manager?” he asked the older woman.

“Oh my, no,” she said. “Dara here is his wife, Zoe’s, best friend, and we’re just here as a favor to the family. He tries not to spend much money on campaign expenses. He’s very frugal.”

“Too frugal sometimes,” Dara put in. “But we were glad to
help.” She stared at Alec. “But about the inn. We’ve heard so much about it. Would you mind if we went exploring in the attic?”

“Not at all. I’m sure Libby won’t mind.”

Sara refilled their hot chocolate. “Lieutenant Bourne here is a new daddy. His son was born two days ago.”

The older woman lifted a brow. “And you’re back at work already?”

“And it’s good for you that he is,” Sara countered. “Alec is the best swimmer we have.”

“We’re very thankful,” the woman said. “I didn’t mean to sound critical. I’m Winona Anderson, and this is my niece, Dara Anderson. Congratulations, Lieutenant. I hope we’ll get a chance to take a peek at the new arrival.”

“I’m sure you will,” Alec said. “He’s a keeper, nearly eight pounds.”

Curtis grinned at the pride in his friend’s voice. All babies looked alike to Curtis, and young Noah had the usual tiny red face and chubby cheeks. The night before, Alec hadn’t even wanted to hand the little guy over when he squawked to be fed. The minute Libby had returned to the living room with Noah in her arms, Alec had demanded him back, though he’d had to do battle with Libby’s siblings and his nephew. Alec was going to be a good daddy.

The village was still talking about how Amy had delivered the baby in her cottage. Scuttlebutt said she was thinking about staying permanently, and he wished he’d flat-out asked her last night. He hoped it was only a rumor. If she stayed, Raine’s parentage was sure to come out. Not even his teammates knew who her father was. If they’d wondered, they hadn’t been crass enough to ask.

He was sure Alec would urge him to tell Amy the full story as soon as possible, but the Lang family would want Raine, and it would be a battle to keep her. Edith meant well, but she didn’t know the family like he did. Curtis would fight to his last breath to keep Raine.

Dressed in capris and a pink top, Amy rode her bike to downtown Hope Beach on Friday to meet Libby. The small shops had once been houses for fishermen, and their clapboard faces with their small porches looked out on the narrow village streets. She made a mental note to stop at the feed store later and look at the plants. Though she’d made inroads on the yard, the garden needed serious weeding.

She parked the bike in a rack as Libby pulled up in her SUV. Amy saw little Noah in the back and opened the door to get him out of his car seat. The plastic latch resisted her attempts to free the baby. “You have to be a physicist to figure this out.”

“I practiced before he got here.”

“Good decision.” Amy gave up and stood back to let Libby unbuckle the little guy and lift him out.

“Amy,” a woman exclaimed as Libby backed out with Noah in her arms.

Amy turned to see a young woman about eight months pregnant standing on the sidewalk. The top of her large purse was unzipped and bulged with romance novels. Amy struggled to remember the attractive redhead’s name. She’d been the attorney’s secretary.

The name came to her. “Mindy Jackson. It’s been a long time.”

“Mindy Stewart now.” Mindy patted her bulging belly. “I’m so glad to see you! Are you staying awhile?”

“I am.”

“Wonderful! I won’t have to go to the mainland to deliver.”

Mindy’s enthusiasm warmed Amy’s heart. She smiled at the young woman. “Actually, I’m not sure I’ll be here
that
long. Looks like you have about a month to go?”

Mindy popped her bubble gum and nodded. “Stay permanently.
I’ll be your first patient. I’m a sheriff’s deputy now. When I lost my job as a receptionist, I decided to do something else with my life.”

Libby moved in like a mama duck herding her young. “Amy will give you a call if she decides to start delivering babies. We’d better get going.” They walked away and entered Hopeful Kids Shop. “I think it’s a great idea to open your practice here. I don’t know what I would have done without you when Noah was born. I was so scared, and you made everything calm.” Libby smiled. “Well, as calm as childbirth can be. I was lucky you were on the island when my water broke.”

What if she moved here? The thought tempted Amy. Living in this place was like going back in time to a happier, safer place. It would be a rewarding life. And she could get her overseeing physician on board. He’d told her for a long time that she should move to one of the places around the state that really needed her.

She glanced around the small shop. Children’s clothing and necessities vied for space with boogie boards and souvenirs. Places like this didn’t exist on the mainland, and she loved it. She pressed her hand to her stomach. Maybe it would be a place where she could forget the past.

She smiled. “Hope Beach is more than home. It’s a haven. It always has been. And I see the need here. Most women have to go to Kill Devil Hills or the mainland in the last couple of weeks before giving birth. Taking the ferry once labor starts isn’t a good option.”

Libby shifted Noah to the other arm. “We
do
need you here. As a midwife and a healer.”

Amy had heard this before, and she didn’t deny it was true. Somehow she just knew what people needed. She could listen to a tale of pain and sickness and know what was wrong. And Libby had spoken the truth—it was a gift. No training or anything Amy could point to had given her the intuition she possessed.

“Maybe you’re right.”

Libby’s brows rose. “You’ve decided to do it, just like that?”

“I’ve been thinking about it since I got here. I’m wondering why I didn’t think of doing it sooner.” It would take more than a couple of weeks to figure out what had happened to Ben. And she felt closer to him here, the memories precious.

Libby helped Noah find his thumb. “What do you need to get going? How can I help?”

“I just have to send for my things. I can use the downstairs study as an examination room so I won’t need an office. I’ll need to get my herb garden planted for my tinctures.” She had to curb her excitement or she would turn around and head for the feed store right now to get that garden going.

A woman spoke behind them. “Good morning, Libby. Who’s your friend?”

Amy turned to face a woman of about forty with tired brown hair, a turned-up nose, and thin lips. She wore a friendly smile. “I’m Amy Lang.”

“Oh yes, you own Rosemary Cottage. And you delivered little Noah here. The village is buzzing about the news.”

“Guilty as charged.”

The woman held out her hand. “I’m Frannie Hurd, the owner of the shop. Women are always asking me if there are any midwives on the island. Think you might stay?”

The heat of a flush marched up Amy’s neck. “I’m considering it.”

“Let me know what you decide, and I’ll send plenty of business your way,” Frannie said. “What can I do for you today, Libby?”

Libby glanced around. “I need some clothes for Noah. He arrived a little too soon, and I wasn’t quite ready. And I want to look at bedding. I don’t think what I have in the room works.”

“I just got in some catalogs you might find interesting. Come with me.” Frannie led Libby off to her desk.

The door jingled behind her, and Amy turned to see a familiar face. Curtis entered the store with a small girl in his arms. Her pulse ratcheted up two notches as it always did when she spotted the handsome Coast Guard lieutenant. Not that he’d ever noticed her. His light brown hair had blond highlights put there by the sun, and his eyes were as gray as the sea on a stormy day. Her gaze wandered to the little one. Amy guessed the child to be about one. She had dark curls and dark eyes that tilted up at the corners.

Curtis froze when he saw her, and his smile was forced as she approached. “Amy. That must be your bike out there.”

She nodded. “Who’s this cutie?” Amy smiled at the child.

“My niece, Raine.” He shifted as if he was uneasy. “I just popped in to get her some pajamas. Oh look, Raine, there they are. New pj’s. Nice seeing you, Amy.”

“You too.” She watched him stride to the infant section. He hadn’t been so uncomfortable at Rosemary Cottage. What had changed?

F
IVE

T
he courtyard of the café held only a man and his teenage daughter eating soup. Amy kicked off her sandals under the table, then sipped her coffee and soaked in the island atmosphere. Her arm still ached from where the inexperienced nurse had poked her, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear tearing at her insides. What if she had to go back to treatment? She couldn’t face it. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes. One day at a time. That’s all she could get through.

The scent of the sea and the masses of roses growing along the edge of the sidewalk teased her nose with memories. The taste of the fish taco she’d had for lunch still lingered on her tongue. “I’ve missed this place.”

“I’m so glad you’re back.” Libby glanced at Noah in his baby seat under the shade of a sycamore tree. He was fast asleep. Her expression was pensive when she looked back at the table.

“Is something wrong?” Amy asked. “I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me.”

Libby’s smile seemed forced. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on and why you’re here. Do you suspect Alec of lying about Ben’s death?”

“Of course not!” Amy reached across the table and squeezed
her friend’s hand. “I’d forgotten Alec saw him and found his board. You have to know how much I love you and Alec. I know the kind of man he is.”

“Then why are you so sure Ben’s death wasn’t an accident?”

Amy reached for her large bag and dug out the e-mail she’d received. “Because of this.” She handed it to her and watched Libby’s face change as she read it.

“Secrets? Hypocrisy? It sounds like whoever wrote it disliked Ben.” She looked down at her hands, then back at Amy. “There are stages of grief, Amy. One of those is denial.”

Amy’s cheeks heated. “It’s not denial, Libs.” She held up the paper. “I didn’t make this up.”

“Could it be a prank?”

“That’s what the police think, but I don’t believe it. I want to know what secrets the sender was talking about.”

Libby handed back the paper. “Maybe there are none. If it’s a prank, I mean.”

“It just
feels
true. Don’t you think?” Amy watched Libby’s face until her friend nodded with obvious reluctance. “I showed it to Pearl. She thought it was a prank too, but I think no one wants to believe someone might have deliberately hurt Ben.”