Patrick's Destiny (11 page)

“Sure. Molly and I have been friends for years.”

“And the thought of jumping into the sack with her never once crossed your mind?”

“Never once,” he said honestly. Molly had always
had her eye on another Devaney. And even now, after things had gone terribly wrong between her and Daniel, she wouldn’t look at another man, much less at Daniel’s twin brother. Patrick had always respected that.

“Well, good for you. Maybe you are a saint, after all.”

“Not a saint,” he insisted. “I’m just trying to be an honorable man and not take advantage of the situation.”

“Oh, whatever,” she said. “From now on you’re not going to have to worry about taking advantage of the ‘situation,’ as you put it. I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on earth.”

He met her gaze. “Is that so?”

She swallowed hard but didn’t blink or look away. “Yes, that’s so.”

He nodded slowly. “Good. Then we have nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that right that second he wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and make love to her for about forty-eight hours, nonstop.

Pride was the only thing that made Alice walk into Jess’s with Patrick by her side. It was also the only thing that had kept her from swinging her very hefty tote bag and smacking him upside the head when he got that smug expression on his face. It was going to be a long evening. She should have sacrificed the meat loaf and gone home to one of the frozen dinners she kept in the freezer for emergencies. Then again, that would have been admitting to Patrick that she couldn’t spend a few hours in his company without getting all hot and bothered.

The minute they entered the bar, Molly gave the two of them a thorough once-over, then nodded in satisfac
tion. “Pick a booth. I’ll bring you a couple of beers and the special in a sec,” she said as she took a tray of icy mugs of ale to a table of fishermen seated in the middle of the room. She deftly managed to set the drinks on the table, all the while avoiding a few friendly, roving hands.

Molly rarely lost her cool, Alice thought with admiration. She could keep an entire room filled with rowdy men under control with just one withering glance. Alice wondered if she ought to take lessons from her. Maybe if she perfected her own withering glance, Patrick would stop tormenting her with all this nonsense about friendship. The odds of them sharing a purely platonic friendship were somewhere between slim and none. In her experience, once chemistry had been unleashed, it was all but impossible to pretend it didn’t exist.

Still, since he’d insisted on the ground rules, she wasn’t about to suggest that she couldn’t follow them. She’d just have to train herself to pretend he was as attractive as sludge. Sooner or later, maybe she could make herself believe it.

Besides, Patrick was right about one thing: they hardly knew each other. She’d fallen for his heroics when he’d rescued Ricky, for the vulnerability she sensed in him and for the lost soul she imagined him to be. In truth, he seemed pretty darned determined not to be the least bit lost. In fact, he seemed pretty confident about himself and the decisions he’d made. Maybe if she got to know the real Patrick Devaney, she’d discover that without the imagined vulnerabilities, he didn’t appeal to her in the slightest.

She clung to the icy mug of beer Molly had brought to the table and peered at Patrick thoughtfully. “Why did you decide to become a fisherman?” she asked.

His gaze narrowed at the question, as if he suspected it were some sort of trap. “I like being on the water,” he said eventually. “It’s a challenge.”

Alice persisted. “Is it something you always wanted to do?”

He shook his head. “No. A long time ago I wanted to be a fireman, and then for a brief period I considered being an engineer on a train.”

“How old were you when you changed your mind?”

“Seven.”

A chuckle erupted before she could catch it. “What happened?”

“I caught my first big fish. I was standing on shore when it happened. My dad had to help me reel it in. It probably weighed no more than a pound, but I thought it was huge. My mom cooked it for dinner that night. It was the best fish I’ve ever had. After that, my dad started taking me out on his boat on Saturdays. He taught me everything he knew about commercial fishing.” His expression turned sad. “I always thought we’d go into business together once I grew up.”

Alice opened her mouth to tell him it wasn’t too late, then clamped it shut again. She’d promised not to go there. Besides, he was opening up. She didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this momentary peace between them.

He sighed heavily. “But things change. I got my own boat and went into business for myself. I like the independence.”

“Still, it must be exhausting.”

“Some days, yes,” he conceded. “But I’m my own boss.”

“Ever give yourself a day off?”

“All the time.”

“What do you do when you’re off?”

He grinned at her. “I go fishing.”

She stared at him in astonishment. “What?”

“I take a pole and go off to one of the lakes and stand on shore, just the way I did when I was a kid.”

“You find that relaxing?”

“Absolutely. It’s not the same at all. When I’m out at sea, I have to stay focused every second. Too many things can go wrong in a heartbeat. When I’m at the lake, I can close my eyes, feel the sun on my face, let my thoughts wander and wait for the fish to bite. If they do, great. If they don’t, I’ve still spent the day outdoors in a great setting.”

“It sounds tranquil,” she said wistfully.

“It is. Play your cards right and I’ll take you sometime.”

Alice almost jumped on his reference to cards and that losing night of poker he’d had, then restrained herself. She saw that he was watching her expectantly, clearly anticipating that she’d remind him of their bet. All the more reason to avoid the subject.

“What kind of music do you like?” she asked instead.

He seemed startled by the change of topic, but went along with it. “Country-western, mostly. It gets at the heart of things.”

“Movies?”

“Never go.”

“Books?”

“Tom Clancy, John Grisham.”

“Guy books,” she scoffed.

“Hey, I
am
a guy. What do you want from me? Were you hoping I had a secret addiction to romance novels?”

She grinned at that. “You might learn something.”

His lips curved into an irrepressible smile. “I might at that. You have any around the house I could borrow?”

“Buy your own.”

“Maybe I will. Then, when I’m properly in touch with my feelings, we can have this conversation again.” He gave her a long look. “Exactly what is this conversation we’re having, anyway?”

“It’s called friendly conversation,” she said. “It’s what you said you wanted.”

He nodded slowly, as if trying to grasp the concept. “Okay, then, my turn. Why did you become a teacher?”

“I love kids, especially at the kindergarten age. They still have this incredible curiosity, and they can sop up knowledge like a sponge.”

“They’re also a little rambunctious,” he pointed out.

“I love that, too. It keeps it challenging. I have to be on my toes to keep their attention.”

“You want kids of your own?”

“Sure.”

“How many?”

“Three, maybe four.”

“Really? Then shouldn’t you be getting started?”

She frowned. It was a sore point. She wasn’t really old at twenty-six, but unless she wanted to have back-to-back babies, the clock was going to start ticking soon. “I’m not that old,” she told him.

He grinned. “Older than me. I could have babies for, say, the next forty years or so.”

“Typical of a man,” she chided. “You think just because your parts work longer than ours, you’d make good daddy material.”

“Okay, a valid point,” he said, just as Molly appeared at the table, her expression thoroughly fascinated.

“Discussing having a family?” she inquired. “How interesting.”

“Don’t make too much out of it,” Alice said. “We were talking in generalities.” She barely resisted the urge to explain that it was all but impossible to have a child with a man who wouldn’t agree to sleep with her. That was a can of worms best left tightly shut.

“Still, it’s a start,” Molly said cheerfully, settling into the booth next to Alice. “I’ve never heard Patrick mention a need to have children before.”

“I said I could,” he retorted. “Not that I intended to.”

Alice stared at him. “You don’t want children?”

“I didn’t say that, either,” he replied defensively.

“What then?”

“Just that I didn’t have much of an example in the father department, as it turns out. I’m not sure I want to risk blowing things as badly as he did.”

“That’s absurd,” Molly and Alice said together.

“You’d make a terrific father,” Alice added. “Look at the way you were with Ricky the other day.”

“And look at how the kids adore it when you coach Little League,” Molly added. She turned to Alice. “You should see him. He’s like the Pied Piper, with a dozen adoring kids trailing after him.”

“I can imagine,” Alice said, liking the image that crept into her head and wouldn’t leave. “Are you coaching this summer?”

He shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll have to come to the games. I love baseball.”

For the first time since she’d started poking around
to discover his likes and dislikes, his eyes lit up. “You do?”

“I spent a lot of evenings at the Red Sox games when I lived in Boston. In a weird way, it made me feel close to my dad. He was a huge fan.”

“Little League in Widow’s Cove isn’t quite the same as the Red Sox,” Patrick pointed out.

“But where do you think I saw my first baseball games?” she said, suddenly filled with nostalgia. “My dad never went to Boston, but he did take me over to the ballfields here every Saturday afternoon. A lot of my friends were on teams. Then at night we’d listen to the Red Sox games on the radio.”

“I did the same thing with my dad,” he said, though his expression remained shuttered.

Alice instinctively reached out and covered his hand with her own. Funny thing how their relationships with their dads had brought them together yet again, this time over a shared interest in baseball. It was such a small thing, she thought, but maybe it was something they could build on.

A
lice glanced out her classroom window just after lunchtime the next day and saw storm clouds building. It had been unseasonably hot and humid, and clearly they were about to pay for it. Normally there was nothing she liked better than a good, cleansing storm, but a sudden image of Patrick caught out at sea made her insides clench.

Come on, she told herself. He knows what he’s doing. By his own admission, Patrick had been around boats all his life. Surely he knew enough to come into port with a storm on the horizon. Surely he knew to find a safe harbor.

But what if there hadn’t been time? The thought hit her just as lightning streaked from the sky and thunder rumbled. Her already restless students reacted with alarm. Abandoning her lesson plan for the afternoon,
Alice chose a favorite story about the Rainbow Fish and called the class to the front of the room.

Francesca crowded close to her side and even the usually independent Ricky pulled his chair closer than usual. She gave them all a reassuring smile, then tried not to ruin the effect by jumping at another bolt of lightning that seemed to hit far too close for comfort.

“Okay, now,” she said, keeping her tone soothing. “Anybody remember what this story is about?”

“Sharing,” Francesca said in her shy little voice, leaning against Alice.

“Exactly.” Alice opened the book and began to read about the lonely fish with the glittering scales that set him apart from all the other fish.

Normally the story had the power to captivate her, but today just the mention of fish sent her thoughts ricocheting right back to Patrick. Still, the students’ excited questions and rapt attention provided a distraction that lasted until the bell rang.

Alice noted the rain lashing at the windows in sheets and realized the kids were going to get soaked just getting to the buses and to their parents’ cars. Since the day had started with bright sunshine, none of them had rain gear with them.

Grabbing her own umbrella from the coat closet, she herded her class into a line and led them to the front door, where several of the moms were already waiting. When those students were on their way, Alice put up her umbrella and took the rest one by one to their buses. The umbrella was virtually useless in the whipping wind, but it was the best she could do. She sighed when the last of her charges were finally safely aboard their buses or with their moms.

Her gaze instantly went toward the waterfront, but it
was too far away for her to realistically hope to catch a glimpse of Patrick’s boat. She was debating running across the park to get a better look when the principal appeared at her side.

“It’s a nasty afternoon, isn’t it?” Loretta said to Alice. “I understand several of the local fishermen were caught at sea.”

Alice’s heart began to pound. “Have you heard which ones?”

The principal gave her a knowing look. “I imagine it’s Patrick Devaney you’re most concerned about.”

Alice didn’t waste her breath trying to deny it. “Is he back?”

“No,” Loretta admitted, “but I’m sure he’s fine. Patrick’s a smart man. Fishing and the sea are in his blood. He knows what to do to remain safe.”

Alice nodded, but she wasn’t nearly as certain as the principal seemed to be. Oh, she believed he was highly skilled, but she doubted that any man was a match for Mother Nature when she decided to stir the elements into a frenzy of wind and rain.

Loretta gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ve canceled the teachers’ meeting, if you’d like to go down to the docks and check on him. Perhaps by the time you get there, someone will have more news.”

Alice gave her a grateful look, went inside to grab her purse, then took off running, oblivious to the rain that soaked her dress and washed away the little makeup she wore. When she reached the dock with its useless No Trespassing sign, she skidded to a halt and stared out at the churning gray waters as far as she could see through the thick haze. If Patrick was heading for port, she couldn’t spot him.

She shivered as the temperature dropped, then
wrapped her arms around herself in a useless attempt to keep warm. With the afternoon heat bumping straight into the cold air from the northwest, there would be fog soon. Getting back to port then would be an even trickier task, notwithstanding all the latest navigational equipment.

Getting colder by the minute, Alice found a blue tarp weighted down with an old anchor and dragged it free, then huddled beneath its scant protection.

That was how Molly found her hours later as darkness fell and more and more people gathered along the shore to watch for the handful of still-missing boats.

“I can’t believe you’re out here with no coat or hat,” Molly scolded. “When someone told me they’d seen you, I was sure they’d been wrong. I thought you had more sense.”

“Patrick’s not back yet,” Alice explained. “I couldn’t leave.”

Molly gave her a commiserating look. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Alice sighed. “I suppose I do, for all the good it’s going to do me.” She shook her head. “I can’t think about that now.” She gazed at Molly worriedly. “Do you think Patrick’s okay?”

“I think he’s probably out there leading the rescue attempts for any of the other boats that are in trouble, that’s what I think,” Molly said with conviction.

“Really?” Alice asked, searching her friend’s face.

“Absolutely.”

There wasn’t so much as a hint of doubt in Molly’s voice, but Alice still wasn’t entirely comforted. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered, trying to see through the gathering darkness for any sign of an approaching boat. He had to come back, if only so she could tell him that
she would be his friend and ask nothing more, if that’s the way it had to be. All that mattered was that Patrick be safe.

Patrick was cursing himself every which way as his boat rocked and rolled on the huge swells and lightning split the sky again and again. Normally he had a nose for bad weather and he could smell an oncoming storm in the air.

Today, though, his mind had been on Alice, on their dads and baseball and on the uneasy truce they’d reached the night before. He’d missed all the signs that the weather was about to change dramatically.

By the time he’d noticed the first dark clouds on the horizon, it had been too late. The storm was on top of him in minutes, with its fierce winds and pelting rain. The deck turned slippery and treacherous, and waves washed over the sides of the trawler.

“Blast it all to hell and back,” he muttered as he tried to keep his hands steady on the wheel. He’d never gotten caught like this before. In fact, he was usually among the first to get back to shore and the first to head back out when a storm died down to look for others who hadn’t been as lucky.

Today it was going to require every ounce of his concentration to keep from making a mistake that could mean certain death, either from the boat capsizing or him being washed overboard because of some misstep on the slippery deck. He thought of Alice and concluded he’d have to make damn sure nothing like that happened. He had fences to mend with the woman. He had to tell her that she was right and he was wrong. They needed to grab every second they could to be together, because life was filled with uncertainties.

Maybe their relationship would last, maybe it was doomed, but the only way to find out was to take a chance. He intended to say all that and to eat all the crow she wanted to dish up. Then he intended to make love to her for hours on end until he’d finally had his fill of touching and exploring and making her cry out with pleasure.

Hands clenched tightly to the wheel, he heard the sputtering static of his radio and a frantic Mayday call from another Widow’s Cove boat. He peered around through the almost impenetrable wall of rain for some sign of a boat nearby.

“Where are you,
Lady Q.?
” he radioed back. “Give me your location.”

He heard the hint of panic in Ray Stover’s voice as he responded with the coordinants. Ray was a practiced seaman. If he was showing any hint of fear, then the danger had to be high.

“We’re taking on water fast, Patrick. Are you anywhere close?”

“Close enough,” Patrick said, trying to hide his concern. “Not to worry. I’ll get to you, Ray. Hang in there. Got your life vest on?”

“Of course.”

“If anything happens to the boat, get the light on and keep signaling. I’ll be there any minute now.”

Totally focused on the emergency task, he set the boat’s course and calculated that he could be there in ten minutes, maybe fifteen if the sea fought him, which it seemed inclined to do. Grabbing a spotlight he kept for emergencies, he sent its piercing beam in the direction where the sinking boat would likely appear.

“Ray, I’ve got a spotlight shining. Let me know when you see it.”

“Roger that,” Ray said, the tension in his voice less palpable. “Which direction?”

“I’m just east of you and approaching from the south.”

“Got it.”

The rain was finally easing and the lightning had moved farther out to sea, but the swells were still a challenge as Patrick cut through the water toward the distressed boat.

His radio crackled.

“I see the light,” Ray shouted triumphantly. “You’re about a hundred yards away now, and just in the nick of time, buddy. This crate of mine is about to go down.”

Patrick still didn’t breathe a sigh of relief, not until he was alongside the rapidly sinking
Lady Q.,
which was listing to port with water washing over its bow. As soon as he pulled alongside and held out a hand, Ray gingerly made the leap onto the deck of the
Katie G.
His lined face was stoic until the weathered and once-sturdy boat sank from view, then his expression filled with sorrow.

“Hey, man, you’re okay. That’s what counts,” Patrick consoled him. “You can always get another boat.”

Ray shook his head. “I’m done,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “I’ve had three close calls in the past two years. I want to live to see my grandchildren grow up. Janey’s been nagging at me to retire, but I figured I’d do one more season before calling it quits. This just pushes things along a little faster.”

Patrick heard the regret in Ray’s voice and knew he’d feel the same when the day finally came that the sea’s challenges became too much for him, too. Before he could stop himself, his thoughts wandered to his father,
who was almost the same age as Ray. Had he weathered today’s storm? The commercial boats he captained were bigger and more seaworthy than the
Katie G.
or the
Lady Q.,
but in a raging storm, few of the boats were truly safe. A line of squalls was something a man learned to respect, if he intended to live a long and healthy life.

Because Patrick didn’t want to care about his father’s fate today, he busied himself with piloting the boat back toward Widow’s Cove and keeping up a steady stream of distracting conversation to keep Ray’s mind off of his own near miss.

As the lights of Widow’s Cove pierced the darkness of the night sky, Patrick shone his spotlight toward shore to signal that he was coming in. He heard a shout go up.

“Wonder if we lost anyone out there today?” Ray asked. “Damn storm came up quicker than most.”

“Yours was the only distress signal I caught,” Patrick told him. “I imagine everyone else is making their way back now. If anyone’s still missing, we’ll know it soon enough.”

When Patrick reached the dock, Ray helped him tie up the boat, then reached for Patrick’s hand with a strong grip. “I owe you, son.”

Patrick gave the old man an embrace. “If you start getting restless being retired, you can go out with me anytime.”

Ray grinned. “I might just take you up on that,” he said, then cast a guilty glance toward the gray-haired woman standing on the dock with tears streaming down her face. “Assuming Janey ever lets me out of her sight again.”

Patrick held back as Ray went to his wife and gently
wiped the tears from her cheeks before putting his arm around her and leading her toward Jess’s, where the town traditionally gathered in the aftermath of a storm that threatened the lives of the local fishermen.

After they’d gone, Patrick jumped onto the dock, only to walk straight into a shove that caught him off guard and almost landed him on his backside. Seemed like today was destined to be full of unexpected shocks. His gaze narrowed with speculation as he looked into Alice’s flashing eyes.

“You scared the living daylights out of me,” she said accusingly, her expression filled with a mix of anger and relief. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Patrick Devaney.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “You were worried?”

“Look at me,” she said, gesturing toward her soaked clothes and dripping hair. “I’ve been here for hours. I was terrified.” Then the tears began rolling down her cheeks, a reaction every bit as heartfelt as Janey Stover’s had been.

Shaken by the sight of Alice’s tears, Patrick reached for her. “I’m here,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “Ah, darlin’, don’t cry, I’m here now.”

She poked him in the chest, though with slightly less force than her earlier shove. “You scared me,” she repeated.

He tucked a finger under her chin and looked deep into her eyes. “I can’t promise it won’t happen again. This is what I do.”

She sighed, resting her cheek against his chest. “I know.”

He decided to share some of his own discoveries made during the storm. “It did occur to me as I was sitting out there in the dark with the winds howling and
the rain coming down that maybe I’ve been just a little hardheaded about the sex thing,” he said casually.

Her gaze shot up to clash with his. “Meaning?”

Patrick felt himself drowning in those golden pools of light, still shimmering with tears. If he hadn’t already been certain, one look into her eyes would have convinced him. “I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said, then added, “that is, if you’re still interested.”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, leaving no doubt at all in his mind about her response. That kiss could have melted steel, he thought, then wondered if maybe it wouldn’t be worth weathering a storm every day to have a homecoming like this.