Only Emma (3 page)

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "What do you have?"

"Mostly fruits that I use in baking. I can get other things for you if you give me a day's notice."

"You sell to sailors, right?"

"Pretty much," she said.

"High prices then," he said with a frown.

Ah, that was his thing. "Lugging your groceries a couple of miles won't save you much."

He gave her an impish grin. Quite spectacular it was. "Any discount for bulk orders?"

"That depends on the size of the order," she said without hooking mouth to brain. Jeez, she never gave discounts. Her mother had been eavesdropping. Her jaw hit the floor with shock, but then she smiled and Lissey felt her cheeks flush. Oh Lord, she had to remember. Gas dock and no life jacket. Dyed red hair. Even worse, pretending his daughter was a boy. The man was weird. Don’t forget all that.

They bought some canned beans, bottles of red wine, and other assorted goods. Bruce paid cash again. She watched them amble back down the dock with the strangest sense of curiosity and a touch of pain in her belly. He was wonderful with that darling child, treating her with such patience and respect. Why did he dress her like a boy? Did he hate women?

Watching Emma skip along the dock beside him, raw memory seared her heart. Caroline, with that mop of blonde curly hair she'd been born with. Might it have stayed blonde as she grew up? Would Emma have curls when her hair grew out? Lissey could almost imagine a smile on Caroline's face, her daughter beaming just like Emma. And then she couldn't, a vision of her sweet babe's tiny lifeless body abruptly coming to the forefront of her mind. She shook it off before convulsive weeping seized her, but she couldn't quite push the images all the way back into the catacombs of her mind. Caroline would be about the same age as his darling Emma now if she had lived. Lissey choked back a sob.

They dropped off their groceries and came back again, Emma chattering away beside him. She looked so happy; Lissey couldn't take her eyes off them, off her actually.

This time they headed for Patti's shop. He'd said something about buying new books hadn't he?

Philomena Stratton came in and then Maria Sarano and soon she was busy enough to absorb her total concentration for a while. The day became routine, but around two that afternoon she noticed the Duncan boat out in the harbor, tied up to a mooring. Her father's mooring.

The man just couldn't help but be a pest apparently. Taking someone else's mooring showed a complete lack of everything good in a person. No sense of responsibility or caring for one's fellow man, arrogance beyond belief, and who knew what else. Suppose her father came in late tonight or the weather turned bad? Where was he to tie his boat? Mr. Duncan did not give a damn it seemed. The man just—just—infuriated her.

She left Lavinia in charge of the shop and hurried down to the docks. Louis's boat was tied at the foot of the gas dock. He wouldn't mind if she borrowed it for a few minutes, so she jumped in and started it, then tore out to the mooring to give the illustrious Mr. Duncan an earful.

The deck was clear when she reached them. "Ahoy, Fantasy," she shouted.

Bruce popped out of the hatch. "Hey, what's up?"

Wearing a broad smile, he seemed rather pleased to see her. She disabused him of any smart aleck ideas right quick. "This is a private mooring. I told you to use one of the yellow ones."

He shook his head. "I have the owner's permission. Sam Hartnet, sort of a chubby little guy about fifty-five? He's letting me use it for free."

Daddy. He probably took one look at Bruce and saw a future son-in-law. Oh crap.

"You can credit the money I paid you to my account for groceries and such. Is that okay with you?" Bruce said.

"Oh, yes, of course. I didn't know," she mumbled. Obviously, her father could do whatever he wanted with his mooring. He probably planned to park his boat in an empty slip for the duration. He played fast and loose around the docks sometimes. What the heck, he owned the bloody marina, but it would be nice if he worked with her occasionally.

Emma stepped on deck, once again without a life jacket.

Lissey stabbed a finger at her and opened her mouth to point out that little detail, but Bruce was way ahead of her.

"She's been below deck," he snapped.

"She's still supposed to wear her life jacket. I warned you."

He grunted. "So now you're going to write me a ticket?"

Heat rose to her face. She had nothing with her, not even a scrap of paper. "Not right now. I'll catch you when you come ashore next time."

"You do that," he said and disappeared below deck again. Emma grinned and followed him.

She turned Louis's boat around and headed back to the dock. What was wrong with her today? Somehow the man had her on the defensive. She was normally quite cheerful and easy going. Sure Peter and her pop had bothered her, but she was way overboard with Mr. Duncan. Maybe it was Emma. He didn't take care of the child like a father should. Was he blind to the dangers he was exposing her to? What if she hit her head and fell overboard? A shiver ran through her. Caroline

Half way to the dock, the motor coughed, then sputtered and died. She pressed the starter button and pressed again. It turned over but remained stubbornly inert. A check of the gas can told the story—empty. It was her own stupid fault; she'd been so incensed at Bruce she'd forgotten to check before she took off to pin his ears back. Now she had no motor and three hundred yards of open water between her and the dock.

Like most boat owners, Louis kept a paddle aboard for just such emergencies. She pulled it out and began to paddle. Paddle on the right, paddle on the left side, paddle on the right, paddle on the left, paddle... Great, pushing a twenty-two foot boat with a paddle, she was getting absolutely nowhere.

She heard her then, Emma, behind her. "Daddy, look. The lady's stuck."

Lissey turned and waved to let her know she was all right, which was total fiction of course. A light breeze and gentle tide were pushing her away from the dock despite her frantic efforts with the paddle.

"Start the motor, Emma," Bruce called out from across the water.

Oh no, he was going to rescue her. After she'd given him a hard time. Good grief,

She couldn't have that; she put her back into it again. Paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle, wheeze, paddle, wheeze. She stopped to get her breath and started again, drops of sweat now running down her nose and a few other places on her body too. The boat moved forward about a foot. Wonderful.

It was no use. She'd have to apologize and thank him. So humiliating. A giggle tickled at her throat, surprising her. He could have ignored her and let her drift out to sea. Of course, no self-respecting boater would abandon another mariner in trouble on the water but still, she had been rather mean to him.

His boat was under way now, Emma at the wheel while he hung fenders over the side. He'd let a five year old drive that big boat right at her? Oh great, she couldn't get out of the way.

He moved back to the cockpit, thank goodness. But he bent down to operate the motor controls. Emma stayed at the wheel.

She had to get out of the way. Paddle, paddle, paddle, no bloody use at all. Louis kept the damn paddle as a morale booster; it was useless as anything else. She dropped the stupid thing, grabbed a life jacket, struggled into it as fast as she could, then waited, strangely resigned, for the crash.

Bruce's boat slowed as it approached, but that child was still going too fast. The sailboat careened into the side of Louis's boat as Lissey grabbed for it, seeking something to hold on to, a cleat, a shroud, anything. She caught a stanchion as Fantasy slid past and got herself slammed against the side of Louis's boat for her trouble. Pain seared her left knee. She grunted. It was a good thing she'd put the life jacket on; the padding probably saved her ribs.

"Can you hold on while we tow you or should we tie a line?" Bruce asked calmly, finally taking control from Emma. The bloody man was oblivious.

"I can if you go slow," she gasped as the sailboat slowed. Water jockeys, this was like a demolition derby.

She had a mind to say so many things. Emma should not have been driving, even if she did do a good job. No life jacket for her again, that'd cost him. This didn't change anything, he was still a jerk. Sigh, how ungrateful could she be? He did go out of his way to rescue her. She swallowed her pride. "Thank you."

He nodded. "No big deal."

Her face flamed again. He left her speechless for the moment. Maybe it was because she really didn't know what she felt about him just then. Like, was he truly a self-important, oblivious, pest? And where was Emma's mother? And why in the world did he call her David sometimes?

Luckily, her brain began to function once again.

"How do you want to approach the dock?" she asked, relieved to deal with the business at hand instead of her sudden mental aberrations.

"We'll ease you in slow and then back off."

That sounded good. She nodded.

"Toss me a line, Lissey," her father called from the dock.

"As soon as I can let go of his boat," she said and watched as the dock grew closer. Watched her father smile at Mr. Duncan with an expression she'd seen more than once before. The wheels were turning in his head. A plan, he was concocting a plan to hornswoggle Bruce Duncan into proposing, fake red hair and all. Bloody hell.

Bruce was as good as his word. Louis's boat barely bumped the dock before he backed the big sailboat away. Sam took the line she tossed him and secured the bow of Louis's boat while she clamored off the stern with another line, favoring her throbbing left knee.

"Nice guy," Sam said as he finished tying the line and joined her at the stern.

"Uh humph," she replied.

"Good looking dude too."

"Yes, Daddy," she said as sardonic as possible.

"Seems to be a good father to that boy of his."

"Um humph."

Her father was now grinning from ear to ear. "We'll have to keep him around for a while."

He didn't add, "To give things a chance to develop," but that idea was quite evident in his leering grin.

She smiled sweetly and responded with a very innocent, "Why?"

CHAPTER TWO

The next morning she opened the green shutters and then wandered down the dock again just to see the early morning sky in all its golden glory. Actually, to be honest, she'd have to admit she wanted to see if Bruce and Emma were still at the mooring. Since he'd dropped in on them after dark the other night she would not have been surprised to find them gone just as abruptly. There was something going on with them. His hair and Emma pretending to be a boy suggested secrets closely kept. Dangerous secrets? After all, what kind of a man dyed his hair flaming red?

Bruce was out on deck, scanning the shore with binoculars. Doing a thorough job of it he was too. She waited on the gas dock until he swung the glasses her way, just to see what he would do. He waved. Never took his eyes from the binoculars but he waved. She surprised herself by waving back.

His wave filled her with a nice warm glow for some reason, but once she felt that she did her best to stomp on it. A sexy man might tempt Patti to some wildly irresponsible erotic behavior, but that was not her style, not since Ramon at least. And a weird man she did not need; the island already had its share of that kind.

She turned and headed back to her shop. Customers would be showing up before long. She had better things to do than speculate about another live-aboard. He had a certain panache about him though. Perhaps it was the mystery of his red hair. An inadvertent smile creased her lips as she entered the shop. Her breath caught. She was entertaining erotic thoughts about the man? Bloody hell, would she never learn?

Her mother had arrived. They exchanged kisses, their usual routine, which was sort of silly since she lived with her and Daddy. She always left the house before Lavinia got up though, so maybe the kisses made sense.

"Enjoying the weather this morning?" her mother asked.

"It's a beautiful day," Lissey said.

"Is that boat still out there this morning?"

"What boat? Oh you mean the live-aboards. Yes."

Her mom frowned and started making a fresh pot of coffee.

"What?" Lissey asked, in spite of herself. Mom's secret wasn't the least bit secret. She was almost as bad as Sam when it came to potential candidates for her daughter's hand. As long as they were islanders. She had no use for suitors who would steal her remaining daughter away. Lissey had been dimly aware of Lavinia's prejudice but the idea struck home this morning. Was it the memory of Ramon's betrayal that had her protecting Lissey or simply a desire to see her stay on the island? Lissey thought to ask her but Lavinia cut her off before she could speak.

"I just wondered if he's still there."

Lissey could have played dumb and asked who she meant, and she would have said Bruce and Lissey would have felt like an idiot. So… she shut up, which she was glad of because Peter's bulky figure filled the doorway a moment later.

"Morning Lissey. How you doin' today?" he said.

"Fine, Peter. Your sandwiches are ready." She reached into the refrigerated case.

"Thanks," he said as she offered him the usual order in a plastic bag. Peter liked plastic bags on his fishing boat 'cause paper dissolved when it got wet. "Are you—"

"No, I'm not." She really had no idea what the rest of his question would have been, but a no seemed like the response she wanted.

He sighed then brightened. "If you change—"

"I won't."

He gave her the most forlorn stare, then bobbed his head as if accepting the inevitable. He held up the bag. "How much?"

"Same as always."

He counted out a five spot and a bunch of change, and laid it all on the counter.

She scooped it up and gave him her best deadpan look. "See you tomorrow."

He didn't say a word, just headed out the door, and ambled off toward the docks. It was hard for him, she realized, same as for her. Eligible romantic partners on the island were few and did not include outsiders, who never rushed to fill the void, unless they were interested in a short-term fling. Very short term. That fact was as well known to her mother as it was to Lissey.

The radio on the shelf behind the counter crackled with a call, Bruce Duncan's voice, polite but crisp and sharp.

"Dock, come in please. This is Fantasy calling. Need a pickup please."

Down at the dockside Louis answered promptly with his usual laconic radio manners. "There in a minute."

His engine roared to life and seconds later his launch headed for Bruce's sailboat. She couldn't help herself; she had to watch. Bruce sat down on the edge of his boat, draped his legs inside of Louis' boat when he drew alongside, and gently lowered Emma into the launch. He slipped off his boat and sat down beside her.

Lissey liked that. Smart and safe, he'd taken good care of Emma. She had a life jacket on too.

She went back to work, putting Mr. Duncan out of her mind, until, a few minutes later when he and Emma entered the shop. Her life jacket had disappeared, but they were both in a cheery mood.

"Good morning," Lavinia said, a smile on her face but a touch of frost in her tone. Lissey gave her a disapproving look. Like the man or not, ne was a customer after all. Lavinia caught her eye and blinked.

"Good morning to you," Bruce replied. "How's everyone today?"

That sounded like it was meant to include Lissey? Which surprised her a little given their previous meetings, but then again, she really had yet to get to know the man.

She smiled at Emma. "How are you this morning?"

"We're going for a hike today."

"Oh, that's nice. Where to?"

Bruce sat down at a table near the open door. "As far as we fancy. After breakfast."

"I'm going to have a tart today," Emma said as she climbed onto a chair across from her father.

"How about some eggs or pancakes?" Lissey said. The child just couldn't live on sweets.

Emma shook her head and threw her chin out quite decisively. "Tart."

Bruce grinned. He obviously encouraged the child in her independence. Huh, wait 'til she turned sixteen; he'd be sorry.

"And you? What will you have?" she snapped.

"I'll try pancakes today. Fruit juice too, for both of us. And one coffee."

"What kind of pancakes?"

"Do you have blueberry?"

"Mango."

He grimaced. "Plain."

Lissey took herself off to the kitchen without asking about the juice. If he couldn't bother to choose maybe she'd give him prune juice. Oh Lord, the man just bugged her no end. He was so cavalier, so cocky. And the weird hair. She sighed. Why did she let him bug her so much?

More customers came in, vacationers off charter boats judging by their clothing and the fact they seemed to know each other. Lavinia took their orders and Lissey stayed in the kitchen to handle the cooking. Eggs and waffles for the newcomers. When Bruce's order was ready her mom served it. 

The next time she came up for air and looked out in the shop, Patti Mumford had taken a seat with Bruce and Emma. Between delicate sips of coffee, Patti was busy describing the features of their little island and answering Bruce's questions. The conversation seemed quite animated. Lissey's mood darkened just enough that she became aware of the change. Good grief, she couldn't be jealous.

The vacationers chattered away, the women browsing her popular little display of facial crèmes in the store section of the shop, the three men content to find a table and park themselves. Happiness reigned. Lissey went back to the kitchen and shoved a mango roti into the broiler.

She ate her roti, drank some coffee, and sighed. How often had she found herself in this exact same situation, alone in the kitchen while couples enjoyed their food and each other's company right next door in the dining area. She wasn't really alone. She had friends, and a mom and dad who loved her. But still, the weight of Jacob Marley's chains seemed to be wrapped about her chest. She might as well have been Scrooge for all the life she had outside the shop. Thirteen hours a day, seven days a week left her little time to socialize.

She grabbed another cup of java and wandered outside, trying to settle the agitated corners of her mind. The weather was perfect, the day beautiful, but melancholy sat like a blanket on her shoulders. She abhorred self-pity, hated to indulge, but something was dragging her down.

She meandered past Patti's shop and stopped. Leave it to Patti. She'd get Bruce into bed, one way or another. Lucky that way, there were no qualms of guilt or morality in her existence. Lissey frowned. She really wasn't privy to Patti's romantic secrets.

Lissey had been an unwilling fourteen year old when Sam elected to make a career change and relocated his family to the Sundown Marina and Boat Works at the remote end of Little Casque island, predicting the investment would produce gobs of money. It never happened and within two years Sam had relegated the care and success of the shop to Lissey. Patti's arrival when Lissey was nineteen, just three years older than Lissey at the time and a fellow American, had seemed like the perfect antidote to Lissey's growing boredom and frustration. One could swim and fish just so much on a tiny island and watching the skin show put on nightly by the Triniday Resort at the other end of the island didn't interest Lissey one little bit. There was of course, the big distraction to be found among the islanders- drink, but Lissey did her best to avoid that curse.

Her sister Lydia, then twenty- four, had become Patti's primary friend. Lissey had been the tag along sister until Lydia departed for life in the States. One might have expected the two remaining Americans to draw closer, but Patti's adoration of the local rum, her own conversation, and any man who would bend an elbow with her did not endear her to Lissey.

When Ramon left Lissey standing on the dock five years ago, Patti never really said anything outright, but it had been obvious she thought Lissey was an imbecile for getting pregnant. All of that Lissey could have forgiven, even overlooked. But Patti's certainty, her good wishes that Lissey would be spared single motherhood, the way she welcomed the end of Caroline's existence, Lissey would never forget. She tolerated their acquaintance now, nothing more.

Still musing, Lissey drifted toward the docks then stopped in front of Caesar's. It was closed, as it usually was unless she called to let him know he had a customer. That's the way things went on Little Casque Island, business coming in sudden spurts when someone sailed in and needed something. Caesar carried mostly staples that the locals needed, anchors, line, fishing gear. She tried to get him to introduce some Tees or women's clothing for the tourists, but he'd looked at her as if she'd gone insane.

"Lissey?"

She turned to see Bruce and Emma coming down the path.

"Hi, what's up?"

"I wonder if I could talk to you. I need a favor," Bruce said. He had a smile on his face, but worry lines creased his brow and  wrapped around his eyes.

She stiffened. A favor? The man was, she knew it, full of secrets. What could she do for him anyway?

He came to a stop in front of her, holding Emma by the hand.

"How was breakfast Emma? Did you like your tart?" Lissey said. A favor. She had the strongest urge to stroke the child's hair. Anything but have this discussion.

Emma giggled. "It was yummy. I like tarts."

"I'm glad."

"Where do they come from?"

"The tarts? I make them."

"Oh," said Emma, looking as if she had another question but was afraid to ask.

"What?" Lissey said softly.

"Can I help make some?"

"Only grownups can make them, Emma," Bruce said quickly.

Was this the man who let his daughter drive his boat? Lissey frowned, then realized he was just giving her a simple reason to refuse. That was sweet of him but totally unnecessary. "Of course you can help Emma, but your daddy will have to bring you ashore very early in the morning."

Bruce blinked. "How early?"

Lissey almost laughed at his expression. Was that panic in his eyes? "I fire up my ovens at five-thirty."

He stared at her.

"Oh Daddy, can we?" Emma cried.

Lissey gave her a smile, "You can come in later if you want. We can do the tarts at six-thirty."

"Thanks. I like that better," Bruce said.

Lissey nodded and then remembered his request. Both curious and annoyed she cocked an eyebrow at Bruce. "What do you want?"

He hesitated before he spoke. "It's a bit unusual. I made a mistake yesterday when you woke me up."

"Oh?" When he'd been so surly? Was that his excuse, she woke him up?

He took a deep breath, seemed to gather himself, and then went on. "I gave you David's real name."

That stopped her. She simply gaped at him. David's real name? Emma?

He studied her for a moment, those worry lines deepening, but she tried to give away nothing. Whatever he wanted, he would have to work for it. Something clearly had him upset though.

"I need a promise from you," he finally said.

"I don't make blind promises."