Tides of Love (Seaswept Seduction Series) (9 page)

"It's not that bad."

He paused in mid-motion, the hammer dangling from his fingers. "How do you know?"

A gust of air swept her hair into her face. She brushed it aside, concentrating on the shadows pooling at her feet and the distant rumble of thunder. "I have your book, the one you gave my father. He left it in the restaurant, and I, I brought it home with me. I thumbed through a chapter or two last night. You made notes in the margins. Notes I could decipher. Easily." She shrugged.

"You read some of it?" He sounded incredulous.

She planted her hands on her hips. "I
can
read."

His thoughtful gaze skimmed her face. "I know that Elle. I just had no idea you would be interested."

"A long time ago, I had books similar to yours, but I"—no need to tell him she had been forced to sell her precious textbooks to raise money for the school—"don't have them anymore."

"Which essay did you read?" He propped the hammer against his hip and stretched out his legs. The eager expression on his face struck a deep cord, and she forgot his question. "Elle? Which essay did you read?"

"Um, something to do with average catches and the number of fish breeding. Nothing much."

Surprise widened his eyes; a faint smile curved his mouth. "By calculating average catches, we can demonstrate reduction in stock and generate an estimate of the number of fish breeding in a given area. It's what we call a skeleton study, time-consuming and exhausting, and basic. I'm going to conduct one here. God knows, I have the time. I went by the lab site this morning and Tyre Mcintosh, the master draftsman, told me to stay away for the rest of the week." He flicked a blade of grass from his shoe. "Said he didn't need some fish specialist hanging over his shoulder, telling him how to hammer."

"Sounds like Tyre. Interference doesn't sit well with him. Nor with the fishermen."

He grinned, the first truly genuine smile she had seen since his return three days earlier. "I'll use my considerable charm to persuade them."

Wondering if the time was right to discuss what he could no longer avoid, she said mildly, "Caleb has daily contact with the fishermen. He designs and builds their boats. You—"

He shot to his feet, sending the hammer tumbling.
"No."

"Noah, he's your brother. You're going to have to face him." Sooner than he imagined. Caleb returned on the afternoon skiff.

"I'm not asking him to help me." His hands closed into fists, his voice dropped, clearly a man preparing for battle. "Never again."

The oak branches above their heads cracked together, nearly obliterating Elle's words. "You have it all wrong."

He flinched, his face losing color. "I found out just how much I could rely upon Caleb."

"He loved you, you must realize that. He still does."

She witnessed a wealth of emotion: remorse, uncertainty, and rage. "I don't know what to think. About myself or my family." Grasping her shoulders, he dragged her forward, the grief he fought to contain rising to the surface. "After ten years, I
still
don't know what to think."

A bolt of lightning struck, rattling a windowpane above them. They glanced up, then warily, at each other. Her skin burned where he gripped her. The air she drew into her lungs grew heavy, filled with the promise of rain and the threat of emotions she feared.

She wanted to ease his anguish but the words would not come when he stood so near she could see the curl of his lashes, the flecks of black in his eyes. See the fear sharpening every angle of his face.

She could only watch as his lightly whiskered jaw clenched, his hands leaving her so quickly that she staggered.

"Keep out of my life, Elle. For once, just keep the hell out of it." He thundered down the stairs and shouldered past the shrubs separating Widow Wynne's yard from the next.

Elle gripped the railing, a splinter jabbing her hand.
Keep the hell out of my life.
Unfortunately, she couldn't. Not when he headed for the docks—and the skiff anchored there. How she knew, well, she just
knew.
The loose shutter whipped against the house, a reminder of the danger of sailing during a storm. She forced a brisk stride, but not reckless, which would draw attention she neither needed nor desired.

As she turned on Main Street, skidding on the oyster shells beneath her boots, a cold raindrop struck her cheek. She shivered and dabbed at her bodice, thinking she would be happy when summer began, be even happier when Noah returned to Chicago. Her heart gave a little jerk, exposing the lie. He had broken her once, sailing away without a backward glance. He had not contacted her in all those years, and, in a few short weeks, he would leave and never think of her again. She would help mend the rift between the Garrett brothers, because she had played a major role. That was only fair.

But nothing more.

Solving this mess wasn't impossible if she put her mind to it. The stubborn fool still loved Zach and Caleb, loved them with a depth of feeling she had often wondered if he even possessed. With Noah, you weren't sure how much he would
let
himself feel. She'd never seen a person hold a tighter rein than he did.

Running now, she didn't see the puddle but felt the grimy water seep inside her boot lacings. She saw the pitched roof of the jail and a glimmer of light glowing in the window. Noah would be angry with her for meddling, although he shouldn't expect anything different. Except, with a sudden mingling of pride and fear, she realized this
was
different. This time
she would do what Noah had always managed to do for her.

She would save him from himself.

Chapter 4

"It is wonderful how soon things get into confusion..."

C. Wyville Thomson

The Depths of the Sea

The turbulent weather had driven everyone from the docks by the time Zach arrived.
Nearly
everyone, he noted, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. Icy raindrops streamed down his face, cooling his skin but doing nothing to relieve the furious pounding in his head. White-capped swells lashed the pier as he moved forward with a cautious step, the worn planks rocking beneath his feet. Through the dense fog rolling in from the sea, he saw the vague outline of a man standing in a flat-bottomed skiff moored next to the ferry bell. A tall man calmly working the sail's lines. For a brief moment, Zach wondered if Elle had been mistaken about Noah's distress.

Anxious to reach his brother, Zach stepped heavily, the thump rising above the storm's steady cadence. With a start, Noah glanced to the side and, before he recovered, his unguarded expression reflected such stark loneliness that Zach's throat closed.
Why,
he questioned,
why did this happen to
my
family?

The wind ripped the slack line from Noah's hand, the sail billowing wide. He muttered an oath and rubbed his palm. "Damn her," Zach thought he heard him say.

"Don't." Zach shook his head. "Ellie did what she figured best."

Noah's shoulders stiffened, and he yanked the line taut.

Zach halted beside an overturned water cask and propped his elbows upon it. Ten years had passed since he had seen his little brother, and he wanted to ask everything, know everything.

Hold on, Zach. Don't want to scare him off.

"Weren't thinking of sailing in this, were you?" he asked, throwing a glance at clouds the color of wet ash.

"Of course not." Noah struggled to batten the sail.

Zach coughed and steadied his voice, though his words still came out rougher than he'd planned. "Good thought. I have enough people to rescue manning the lifesaving station without having to go after you. Had a shipwreck last month on the shoals, lost twelve sailors."

Noah turned his head and presented a glacial stare, as if, that night he chose to stay on Devil Island and observe nesting sea turtles instead of coming home, he had not been yanked across Zach's lap and spanked within an inch of his life. A wild gust billowed his sleeves, flicked his hair into his face, and the stare turned to a squint. Zach fought hard to contain the urge to tell him his spectacles sat in his front pocket.

After a long moment, Noah pressed his lips tight and averted his gaze.

Zach let a tense breath loose, not sure what to say or what to do. Except for the hostile expression and the hollowed cheeks, Noah looked much the same. His eyes were replicas of the ones Zach saw in the mirror each morning and the chin, ah, just like Caleb's. The shape of his face belonged to his father, most likely, and his height, it would seem. Noah had always been on the edge of pretty, to Zach's way of thinking, though he would have suffered before admitting it.

Zach had searched his memory for the face of the man who had loved their mother. Maybe he had passed him on the dock or spoken to him in the mercantile. Crazy as it seemed, he wished for this memory more than he wished for one of his
own
father. That he and Noah shared only one parent had never mattered to him, and he had recognized the truth since the day of Noah's birth.

Before Zach could move, Noah was halfway down the pier, skirting the boisterous group of whalers and disappearing into the fog. Zach strode forward until they walked side by side, pleased to note that Noah only had a couple of inches on him. He felt a smile break. Caleb hardly reached his shoulder.

Noah wrenched around, hair plastered to his brow, eyes dark and watery. "What the hell are you smiling about?"

Zach ignored the warning, disregarded the air of wariness, and threw his arms around Noah's shoulders before he stepped away. He inhaled a breath of salt air and ink. "I missed you," he said, because he had nothing else
to
say.

Noah hands rose to clasp Zach's shoulders for one brief moment, before he mumbled a denial and shoved hard.

"You didn't have to come." He turned toward the sea and tunneled his fingers through his hair. "Elle made a mistake running to you. I wouldn't sail in this mess. I just needed to think... not have everything crowding in. Sailing during a storm isn't sensible, and you know me." He glanced back, his smile flat. "Always the sensible one."

Zach's heart thumped, dulling the slap of waves against the jetty. Letting emotion seize him, he forgot his pledge to go easy. "Three years, Noah. For three years I watched the mail, the telegraph, reviewed every crew roster thinking you might have sailed in on a merchant ship and were hiding somewhere in town. Then I gave up, not knowing if you were dead or alive. Can you understand how that tore me apart?"

Noah tipped his head and blinked furiously, as always, considering before he spoke. "Did you think it was easy? Everything I loved was in this godforsaken town."

Too weary to stand, Zach dropped to the edge of the dock, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his legs dangle over the side. "Why, Noah?
Why?"

Silence reigned for a long moment, then, surprisingly, Noah settled beside him. "I couldn't stay here. Things were... different. I didn't know who I was. I felt out of place, belonging to nothing and to no one."

"You're my brother, Noah, and nothing will ever change that. Not a thousand miles or ten years or sharing half the blood you thought we shared. Who cares if the bastard who sired me didn't sire you? I don't know why she chose to stray outside her marriage or even if she loved your father enough to make up for things. All I've ever known, clear to me as the sun rising every morning, is you and Caleb are my family. Nothing else matters."

"It mattered, Zach. It mattered more than I knew. You and Caleb were all I had, and I lost both of you that day." Noah dipped his finger into a gash in the plank, his gaze fixed on the sea. "The damage to my soul, my pride, my sense of family, was too much to overcome."

Zach splayed his fingers across his stomach, the unshakable conviction in Noah's voice scaring him. "Did you love us any less because we shared only one parent?" His expression steady, he waited.

Finally, Noah felt compelled to look him in the eye.

Love?
Noah swallowed past the knot in his throat. He had forgotten the Garrett propensity—evident in both of his brothers—to blurt out what they were thinking without thinking first. Delaying the inevitable, he slipped his spectacles from his pocket and wiped them on the front of his shirt, pleased his hands shook only a little. He wanted to ask about Hannah, but if Zach fell apart right now, he was doomed to follow.

"Did you?" Zach's voice rumbled through air seasoned with the scent of his cologne. God, that smell had haunted his brother's pilot coat like a ghost, reminding Noah of the many times he had pressed his tear-streaked face against it.

"No." He jammed his spectacles into place, wishing he could lie.

Zach rocked forward, clasping his knees. "After Caleb had time to mull everything over in his rusty can and read Mama's diary from cover to cover, he wanted to die. He felt so protective, so responsible, and Lord, Noah, we had no idea where you'd gone, how you were surviving." His voice cracked, and he paused, hitching a noisy breath through his teeth. "When Caleb found out about your father, he let anger control him. And he ended up punishing the person he loved most in the world. It's his way. Act first, think later. You knew that. How could it have been a surprise?"