The Mariner's Gift (4 page)

It was December twenty-third. Ever since Lauren had come along, he hadn’t had trouble getting into the Christmas spirit. Her young, innocent enthusiasm for the magic of the season was contagious. But this year was different. The last few weeks had thrown him for a loop.

Never in a million years had he expected to feel this way about someone after only one kiss. But all he’d been able to think about since early December was how Zola’s lips had felt against his. How her body had pressed against his, and how badly he’d wanted to get her naked that very first night. But he’d sensed in her a hesitation, and maybe that’s what it was. The need to conquer, or have something he couldn’t. He liked to think he was a nicer guy than that, but he had his doubts.

In reality though, he knew it was something more. In Zola, he not only saw an incredibly attractive woman, but a smart woman. A sweet and sensitive woman. And after Jill, that seemed to be the entire package.

He’d been so distracted by all these thoughts lately even Lauren had noticed. She’d crawled into his lap last night and kissed him on the cheek, tucking her head of downy blonde hair under his chin.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Nothing, piglet.”

“You seem sad.”

“Not sad.” Oliver had chosen his words carefully. Lauren had an innate ability to sense his moods and would know if he wasn’t telling the truth. “More wistful than anything else.”

“What does wistful mean?”

“It means I’m thinking about something I want, but I can’t have.”

“Like what?” She’d just gotten out of the bath and smelled like baby shampoo. He kissed the top of her head, overwhelmed for a second by her tenderness.

“A friend. I’d like to have a friend, but she lives far away, and I don’t know that she’d want to be friends with me because I live here.”

Lauren looked up, her eyes wide and clear. “That shouldn’t matter. If you really like her, you should be friends anyway.”

Hugging her, he smiled. “You’re right. But I’m not sure if it’s that easy.”

Lauren shifted in his lap so she could see his face better. She’d grown serious, her small mouth set in a frown. He’d known immediately what was coming.

“Are you afraid she’ll go away?”

Oliver’s heart twisted as if a giant fist was wringing it out. And for the one millionth time, he cursed Jill and her total inability to be a decent mother and wife. He’d hugged Lauren closer, knowing it would never be close enough.

“A little bit,” he said into her hair. “I’m a little afraid.”

Lauren wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back. What she said next had surprised him. Because he knew just how afraid she was of anyone leaving her.

“Maybe she’s lonely. You should be her friend anyway.”

And those few words were what had been running through his head today. Was Zola lonely? Would she be open to the idea of a long-distance relationship? The idea was ridiculous, really. They’d only had one date and she’d put the brakes on that night like a newbie driver taking a sharp curve. Plus, there was Lauren to think about. Protecting her was his first priority. Jill had left a deep, painful wound in her wake, and his daughter was too delicate as it was. He didn’t want to risk introducing them, only to have things crumble later.

Oliver lowered his head now, and stared at the sun’s reflection off the water. Sea lions lounged on the rocks to his left, enjoying a rare afternoon of warmth. The boat cut its way through the choppy bay toward the dark slab of island ahead where a crumbling prison from long ago still haunted its peaks. It was a lonesome sight. And it seemed to mirror his very thoughts.

Chapter 5

Zola hung the little Santa wearing ice skates on a high branch, grinning at his worn and ragged appearance. He’d been gracing the Mitchell tree since sixth grade and was missing a mitten, as well as his left ear. Zola loved him anyway.

Her mother, always astute when it came to Zola’s love life—or lack thereof—kept sneaking peeks at her from the other side of the tree.

“What?” Zola asked.

“Nothing.”

Zola eyed her for a second then dug around for another ornament. The smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted in from the kitchen and
A Christmas Story
was playing in the background.
You’ll shoot your eye out, kid!

Standing on her tiptoes, Zola hung a snowflake next to the Santa. Her mother was staring again.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Mother, please.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“Go on,” Zola said.

“Go on with what?”

“Just say what you’re thinking. I know you’re dying to.”

Jenny Mitchell was a tall woman. Beautiful skin and soft brown hair that she wore in a cute A-line bob. Her eyes were sky blue and hid nothing. She shook her head, her hair swinging cheerfully against her cheeks.

“None of my business. But…” She plucked some tinsel from the box and draped it over a particularly naked branch.

“
But…
” Zola was surprised her mother’s tongue was still intact from biting it these last two hours. She looked over at her father reading the sports section. He glanced up and shrugged as if he had no clue what they were talking about.
Traitor.
“Mom, I love you dearly. But I’m going to have to strangle you with these chili pepper lights if you don’t just come out with it.”

“
Okay.
” Zola could see the relief pass over her mother’s face, like she’d just set down a load of bricks. “You father and I—”

Zola shot another look in her father’s direction. He was now hiding behind his paper.

“Your father and I,” her mother continued, “would like to see you settle down.”

“Oh my God.”

“Now just hear me out.”

“Mom, I know what you’re going to say.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, I’m going to say it anyway. You’re not getting any younger.”

Zola stared at the ceiling, wondering if she could actually get away with murder by chili pepper lights.

“Well, you’re not. And this job of yours is too stressful. All you do is work. And when you’re not working, you’re here.”

“What’s wrong with that? Most parents would be happy their only child visits a lot.”

Her mother waved that remark away with a well manicured hand. “Of course we’re happy. But maybe you’re visiting with us when you could be visiting…other people.”

As if in exclamation, Zola’s phone chimed. She looked down at the exact moment her mother did.
Oliver.
And this wasn’t the first text he’d sent today. In fact, they’d been texting most every day for the last two weeks. She desperately wanted to see him. But she also knew that when she did, she’d probably sleep with him. And that would get complicated. She had to make sure she was emotionally ready for this and all that went with it. She wasn’t the one-night stand type, despite her hormones arguing otherwise. And then there was the fact that every time she asked about his personal life, like his daughter Lauren, she could sense him shutting down. If he couldn’t open up to her about his family, how could she expect anything to go anywhere between them beyond just one night?

“Mom.”

“Why don’t you just go over and say hello? Take him some cookies?”

Zola couldn’t help but smile at that. Her mother was inadvertently telling her to show up at Oliver Tworek’s boat and seduce him with warm baked goods.

“I don’t know that I’m ready to take cookies,” she said. “Cookies are a serious statement, Mom. Cookies scream domesticity and commitment. Might scare him off.”

“Okay.” Her mother rolled her eyes. “Then take him some wine. Take him
something
, Zola, and make the first move.”

Zola plopped down on the love seat. It was fun pushing her mom’s buttons. But deeper down, she was more afraid of that first move than she’d care to admit. Texting was one thing. Sex was another.

“Honestly, Zola. What more does this man have to do to get your attention?”

“Oh, he’s got my attention. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“For one thing, he lives here. I live in LA.”

“I don’t see that as an obstacle,” her mother said. “You manage to come up here all the time. And I’m sure he could be persuaded to go there. Besides, all you’ve been talking about for the last year is moving back to the bay area.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want a guy to be the deciding factor. I was thinking something more along the lines of a job opportunity or a prison sentence. Something more permanent like that.”

“Tell me something.” Her mother walked around the tree and sat down. She reached out and brushed Zola’s bangs back, something she always used to do when Zola was a kid. “What’s really stopping you?”

Zola’s teasing smile faded. She’d never been able to lie to her mother.

In the corner of the room, Ralphie was going on about his blue steel beauty, his Red Ryder BB gun. The movie brought her back just as much as her mother’s tender touch and scented lotion did. Zola tugged on her earring, an old habit.

“I guess I’m just wondering how long someone like Oliver would stay interested in me.”

Her mom let out a soft breath. Zola didn’t let her parents see this side of her often. To them, she was now grown, confident, her teenage insecurities a thing of the past. But the truth was they were still very much alive. She was just good at masking them behind humor and sarcasm, and that was by design. How hurt could you get if everything was an endless joke?

“You can’t be serious.”

Zola shrugged.

“Any man would be lucky to have you, Zola. And that’s not just your mother speaking.”

“I don’t know. Jeff didn’t see a whole lot to stick around for.”

“Jeff was a pig.”

“Say what you really think, Mom.”

“And that was a long time ago.” She patted Zola’s thigh. “Time to move on. Now, I’m only going to say this once. If you don’t get your fanny off this couch and take it down to the marina, I’m going to strangle
you
with those chili pepper lights. Got it?”

Zola looked at her watch. Almost nine. Oliver had mentioned Lauren would be at his parents’ tonight and that he’d be on his boat for a while finishing up some paperwork that couldn’t wait. A perfect opportunity to stop by for a visit. He’d asked earlier and she’d been wishy-washy, as usual. She was beginning to irritate even herself.

Sitting up straight, she looked her mother in the eye. “You know what? You’re right. There’s no reason I can’t just go say hi. That’s the polite thing to do.”

“That’s my girl.”

“I’ll just stay for a half hour or so. I wouldn’t want to impose on Christmas Eve.”

“Sounds good.”

“Plus, it sounds like he’s got some work to do.”

“Zola—”

“I’m going.”

* * * *

Oliver sat in the tiny office area of his boat, the numbers on the insurance forms beginning to blur before his eyes. He was having trouble concentrating. That dance was so far away now, but he could still see the look on Zola’s face as if it had just been last night.

The gym was totally transformed. It had gone from its usually brightly lit and slightly smelly room to a virtual winter wonderland. The student council had done an awesome job fixing it up.

Oliver loosened the tie around his neck and looked around. Paper snowflakes of all shapes and sizes hung from the ceiling. They spun around like a real-life flurry every time someone opened the door from outside and the cold air blew in. A generous amount of glitter was sprinkled over the varnished wood floor, and it caught the light of the silver disco ball overhead. Oliver wasn’t much for expressing himself, but if he was, he would have said that for a high school dance, it was beautiful.

“Oh my God! It’s amazing!” The girl on his arm, Allison Flint, practically squirmed with delight. “Isn’t it just amazing? Like, I can’t believe how radical it looks!”

Oliver smiled down at her. She was a nice girl. A little annoying. But mostly she was hot. Her teased hair rippled down her back while her bangs were the highest he’d ever seen them. And that was saying something. Allison Flint’s bangs were legendary at Bay Side High. As was her preference for skin-tight Guess jeans. Tonight, she wore a shiny pink dress with puffy, off-the-shoulder sleeves that accentuated her body in all the right places.

“Amazing,” he said, and squeezed her hand.

“Olly, will you get me some punch? Pretty please?”

Calling him Olly grated, but he was willing to forgive her because of the way she was batting her eyes at him. He could live with it. Whatever.

“Sure. Be right back.”

He made his way through the crowd of dancing kids to the other side of the gym where a table was set up with punch and cookies. Teachers stood here and there and smiled at him as he walked by. Strange. Any time he saw one of them out of their element—the classroom—and dressed like a normal person, in jeans and loafers, it threw him off guard. He stood there pouring punch into two plastic cups, wondering if it was exciting for the average teacher to chaperone a winter formal. It had to be, right? How often could they actually get out of the house?

“Hey, stranger.”

He turned, almost spilling punch all over Zola.

She hopped back and laughed. “Whoa.”

“Hey! I didn’t think you were coming.”

Her braids were gone. Her long, brown hair hung in loose waves past her shoulders. But her glasses remained. She peered up at him through their thick lenses and smiled. She looked pretty. Sweet.

“Oh, you know. I changed my mind.” Zola gestured to a girl who was dancing to Sir Mix A Lot a few feet away. Right about then, Natalie looked over and grinned, pointing to her butt when he said, ‘baby got back’. “Nat made me come.”