Moondance Beach (16 page)

L
ena got back from her swim about two a.m., too exhausted to rinse off the seawater and sand. She grabbed a glass of wine, locked the back doors, and headed upstairs, not even bothering with the lights. She made her way into the studio. Her plan was to sit in the dark, stare out at the moonlight on the water, and reach deep down inside herself to try to remember . . .

Why?
Why had she been so sure all these years? Had she been a fool to believe? Had the time come for her to let it go? Let
him
go?

The sadness had been unshakable. She’d gone numb when Duncan said he didn’t remember the afternoon he made the pencil drawing. He didn’t remember! That afternoon had been the turning point of Lena’s life. It foretold her art, her passion, her career. And he didn’t even remember. Apparently, the moment they shared all those years ago wasn’t interesting enough for Duncan to file away even as a curiosity.

Lena let her head fall back on the chaise. She thought of the night she told her mentor, Jacqueline Broussard, everything about Duncan, the drawing, and the kiss.
Their conversation had taken place just two weeks before Jacqueline died and, as always, her teacher had listened with care, speaking only when Lena welcomed her opinion.

“I received a message along with his kiss,” Lena had told her mentor. “It was clear and calm and very matter-of-fact, not the hormonal emotions of a girl. The message was from outside of both of us. It wasn’t the voice of anyone I knew, but I sensed she was a very wise woman—maybe even a goddess. Isn’t that bizarre?”

Jacqueline smiled. “You are an artist, my dear. You swim in a veritable sea of the bizarre. And there is nothing more bizarre than the human heart.”

Lena laughed at that.

“You feel deeply, Adelena, and your spirit travels beyond what most people are equipped to embrace. Now, please go on. Tell me about the message.”

Lena had looked down at her hands, embarrassed to go on. She had never told anyone the details, not even Sanders. And since she’d never told the story aloud before, she had no idea how absurd it would sound.

“It’s all right. I am not here to judge, Adelena.”

She looked Jacqueline in the eye. “When his lips touched mine, I understood something that had always baffled me—why my mother chose to come to Bayberry Island, of all the places in the world.”

“Interesting.”

“I got an answer even though I hadn’t asked.”

Jacqueline laughed. “Ah, yes. Isn’t that the way it usually happens? So what answer did you receive?”

Lena took a deep breath, aware she was about to step into seriously strange territory. “I suddenly knew, without a doubt, that my mother came to Bayberry so that
Duncan and I could find each other. I don’t think she realizes this. I’m telling you, Jacqueline, the understanding was overwhelming, and even as a kid I realized I had been given a glimpse into something very old and very powerful, and it just blew me away.”

“Were you frightened?”

Lena shook her head. “I didn’t have time to be scared. The kiss was beautiful and intense, and all the while I kept picturing words in my mind: ‘It will take time. He must come to you. Do not give up.’” She looked at her teacher, wanting help. “So I’ve carried that message with me all this time, and I haven’t given up on Duncan Flynn.”

Jacqueline reached over and took Lena’s hands in hers. “Who do you think was speaking to you? You must have an idea.”

Lena stiffened at the question.

“You don’t have to say, my dear. I already know. And as far as this man goes, if he is in fact your destiny, then you can do nothing to hurry things along. Do you understand?”

Lena nodded.

“My only advice to you is this—live your own life and find joy in it. If Duncan is your true love, he will be drawn to your light, but only when you both are ready.”

Lena sighed, so wishing Jacqueline could be with her tonight. She placed her wineglass on the floor and covered her face in her hands.

What a stupid move! She had been so excited about sharing her life and work with Duncan that she’d forgotten all about the drawing. For her it was a familiar part of every studio she’d ever worked in. She’d had it professionally framed with most of the money she’d earned
from her first professional sale, and she’d taken it with her all over the world. And yesterday she’d been so focused on Duncan not seeing her charcoal sketch of him that she’d forgotten all about the old drawing. She hadn’t been able to get him out of the studio before he saw it.

There was anger in Duncan’s eyes when he’d turned to face her. He resented that she’d kept a piece of him. He bristled at the proof that they had a history. Good God! How awful would it have been if he’d seen her charcoal study of him—nude? She closed her eyes tight.

You can do nothing to hurry things along 
. . .

As the moon danced upon the water, tears slipped down her cheeks.

*   *   *

The Safe Haven kitchen was buzzing today. Though the clambake had started forty years before as a simple tourism-appreciation event put on by the Flynns, those days were long gone. The mermaids had taken over the planning when the fishery went under and the family could no longer afford to host the affair. That had led to a committee, ticket sales, professional caterers, disc jockeys, and banquet tables. Clambake tickets were now the hottest thing going during festival week. Clancy just informed everyone gathered in the kitchen that he’d arrested scalpers on the public dock that morning, trying to sell passes for twice their original value.

“Man, if I had known that, I would have hawked mine online,” Nat said.

“Who’da thunk?” Rowan said, grabbing another baking sheet from the cabinet. For reasons Duncan didn’t fully understand, the Flynns (and by that he meant his sister) insisted on providing some of the desserts for the clambake. She said it was a way to keep the family involved.

Duncan hadn’t helped the family with clambake preparations since high school, and right then he was kicking himself for getting hijacked on his way back from a run.

“Come help me with the mascarpone mixture,” Rowan had called out to him.

“I’d love to, but I’m a sweaty mess,” he said, gesturing to the T-shirt stuck to his torso.

Rowan curled her upper lip. “You sure are. Grab a shower and come right back down.”

And now, not only had Duncan helped assemble a lifetime’s worth of tiramisu, but he had been elected chief pacifier rinser and conscripted to play the role of an evil pirate captain in Christina’s latest melodrama. The story was about a mermaid bent on saving the world from a one-eyed pirate named “Stinky Joe.”

“I’m not stinky. I’ve got two eyes. And my name is not Joe.”

Christina marched over to where Duncan sat with Serena and explained the what-what to him. “Uncle Duncle, this is my play. I am the star. See? I am wearing a tiara, for gracious’ sake!” Christina grabbed the crown as it began to slip from her head. “So if I say you are Stinky Joe the evil pirate, then you are.” She exhaled deeply, as if she couldn’t believe what a diva Duncan was being. “Now it’s time for you to attack, so make it scary.”

“I’m scared—of her,” Ash whispered from the sink.

“We sleep with the lights on,” Clancy mumbled.

So from his seat at the table, he waved around a plastic sword as Christina jumped and twirled and carried on. Duncan checked on Serena. She sat in his lap, staring at him with her piercing gaze, chawing away on her binky like there was no tomorrow. The fact that she still
reminded him of a cigar-chomping Marine Corps master sergeant he once knew made him slightly uncomfortable.

“If you’re going tonight, we could really use some help with cleanup.”

Duncan pretended his sister’s announcement had been directed elsewhere.

“Come on, Duncan.” Clearly, Rowan wasn’t fooled by his silence. “Everybody’s doing something, and you’re here, right? So you might as well pitch in.”

Duncan cleared his throat. “I’ve already made desserts. I’ve been an evil pirate. And anyway, I’m helping you tonight, aren’t I, Clancy?”

His brother popped a carrot in his mouth and shrugged. “I don’t know. You put in a lot of hours at Island Day yesterday. I heard you provided some excellent crowd control.”

“Yeah.” Duncan stood up. “Christina, I need to take a quick break. I’ll be right back, okay, sweetie?”

“What?”

“I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Duncan looked for someone he could hand the baby to, but everyone was busy. Ash was up to his elbows in carrot-cake batter. Nat was washing dishes. Annie and Rowan were taking stuff out of the oven. And Evie was running the mixer. Mellie was barking orders and keeping everyone in line.

The only other person with a free hand was Clancy. Duncan looked at him and tipped his head toward the back door. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.” Clancy smiled at Evie and checked on Christina, who had already returned to her performance
blissfully unaware that her dad was taking his leave. “Let’s go while the going is good,” Clancy said.

“Do you want the baby carrier?” Rowan called out. “It’s hanging on a hook in the mudroom. Grab her sun hat as well!”

On the way out, Clancy snatched the pale yellow contraption and a white bonnet with a string. “Ever used one of these?”

“A baby hat?”

Clancy roared with laughter. “No, man. A baby carrier.”

Duncan shook his head. Looking at it, he had a hard time believing something designed for his little sister would fit him.

“Ah, c’mon. Let’s give it a try. Yellow is so your color.”

Clancy pulled a strap up over Duncan’s left arm and loosened it to its maximum length. He did the same with the opposite arm, then pulled on the seat to make sure it was secure. “Hand her to me. I’ll buckle her back here while you snap up in front.”

When all was said and done, Duncan was trussed up like a roasting chicken, but baby Serena seemed happy, her little legs kicking at him as they walked.

Duncan turned to Clancy, alarmed. “Where’s the hat?”

“I already put it on her.”

Duncan rolled his eyes in relief. “Thank God, because I don’t even want to think what would happen to my ass if Serena got sunburned.”

“Yeah. That’s best left as an unknown.”

They ended up wandering along the side yard, heading out toward the carriage house and into the cedars beyond. Which was fine by Duncan, since the beach was
crowded and the B and B’s front lawn had become the setting for a cutthroat croquet tournament. He needed some privacy.

“I got a problem,” Duncan said. He figured he should cut to it, since he knew Clancy was on break and had to get back to work.

“Let me guess. Your problem is about five foot two, with dark hair and dark eyes, her naked flesh dripping water as she comes out of the surf—”

“This is serious.”

Clancy’s eyebrow arched high. “Okay. No problem. So what’s going on?”

Duncan sighed. He really had no one else to confide in but his brother. These last couple months had reminded him that Clancy was an honorable cop and a first-rate family man, and he hadn’t given Duncan a single reason to doubt him. But the truth was, Duncan had never relied on Clancy to be the protector of his secrets. He’d never bounced real troubles off of him.

“Hey, man, whatever it is, I’ll keep it to myself. It won’t go any further. Is it something that happened at Little Creek?”

Duncan glanced over at his younger brother. What people said was true. They really did look alike. They had the same face shape, the same dark hair and blue eyes, though Clancy’s were lighter in color—and in temperament.

“Please don’t tell anyone, but I’m getting a Purple Heart. The ceremony is in mid-October, probably soon after I get cleared from medical.”

Clancy’s eyes went huge. “Oh, wow. Man, that’s awesome. Really. What an honor.”

Duncan shook his head. “I’m not sure I want anybody
to go. I don’t want kudos for being the only man from my insertion team who’s still alive.”

Clancy’s eyes popped wide. “I can’t imagine how hard it is to carry around that much guilt, but you’re getting the medal for a reason, man. Don’t dismiss it. What you did to try to save your friends was exceptional. It was an act of bravery.”

They walked quietly for several minutes, the wind rustling through the cedars. Serena was happily kicking and patting Duncan’s neck with her sticky hands.

“And,” Duncan added, “you’re right—I also have a problem with Lena.”

Clancy tilted his head. “Really, now.”

“Yeah. Look, she’s a very interesting woman—hard worker, smart, funny, beautiful—and I know she was always nice to me when we were kids. But I’m learning that . . . well . . .”

“She’s the one giving you all those gifts?”

Duncan laughed. “Rowan told you?”

“Yep.”

“Yes, there’s that, but I got over the weirdness of that once I spent some time with her. She really means well. The problem is, well, there’s an old spark or something between us, and yesterday I asked her to go to the clambake with me.”