Tidewater Inn (26 page)
The dolphin nosed her makeshift raft. She reached out and touched the mammal's skin. It felt like a warm inner tube. “Can you help me?” she whispered.
The dolphin bumped at her raft again, then flicked its tail and shoved at her raft. The table floated back toward the island. “Hey, that's the wrong way,” Nicole said.
The dolphin pushed the raft with its nose again, and Nicole sat up. “Cut that out!” She glanced back at the island. Surely it was much closer. Her chest tightened and she grabbed the table leg and hit the water with it. The splashing didn't deter the dolphin. It continued to shove her back toward the island. Nicole didn't have the heart to actually hit the animal with the table leg. All she could do was splash and scream as the dolphin moved the raft back to the island.
The waves were suddenly higher, and she flung herself to her belly and clutched the sides as the breakers grabbed the tabletop and flung it toward the island. She heard a tearing, grinding sound and was suddenly in the water with salt water burning her nose and throat. She couldn't breathe as the waves rolled her over and over until she came to rest in a foot of water with her knees stinging from scraping the sand.
She sat up and cried out as the waves offered up the pieces of her raft, useless now.
Pearl carried a silver tray bearing delicate blue-and-white china into the bedroom. “Here you go, honey.” She put the tray on the bedside table. “The tea will make you feel better.”
“Thank you, Aunt Pearl. You're very thoughtful.” Libby stared again at the letter in her hand.
Several hours had passed since Libby realized Vanessa was her sister, but the shock had not lessened. How could her parents have done such a heinous thing? To separate sisters until they were combative strangers was a crime that could not be forgiven. Libby found no charity in her heart toward her parents. God said to forgive seventy-times-seven times, but in this case, even one time was too many.
She fingered the necklace.
What would Jesus do?
Right now, Libby couldn't seem to summon the desire to care.
Pearl touched her head. “There are homemade cookies with M&M'S in them.”
Libby flung a letter aside that had contained three pictures of Vanessa winning a swim competition. “Not even chocolate can heal this. We have missed so much of each other's lives. It's monstrous.”
Pearl eased her bulk into the chair. “There's nothing you can do to change what is, Libby. All you can do is go forward from here.”
“Have you talked to Vanessa?”
Pearl's expression clouded. “She won't open her bedroom door.”
“She hates this as much as I do. Maybe more.”
“Ray spoiled those children. He would be heartsick if he could see how she is treating you.”
Libby rubbed her throbbing forehead. “I can't blame her.”
“This is hardly your fault.”
Libby stared at her aunt. “Did you try to talk him out of this?”
“Of course.” Pearl sat heavily in the armchair. “When he arrived here on Hope Island with Vanessa in tow, I begged him to go back for you.”
“Did you know my mother?”
Pearl's eyes filled and she nodded. “She was very naïve and childlike. Once she made up her mind, there was no talking her out of anything. Your mother had been adamant that she wanted no contact with Ray. The only way to do that was for each of them to take a child. She argued that it would only be difficult in the beginning. Once you both forgot, everyone could have a fresh start.”
Libby's throat closed. “No wonder I've felt so abandoned. I lost a father and a sister in one blow.”
“Your father mourned your loss all his life. Not a week went by but he spoke of you.”
Where her aunt's pity had failed to move her, Pearl's words about Ray opened a flood of pain. Libby tried to compose herself. “I don't have any memories of him. What did he like to do?”
“Come with me. I'll show you his pride and joy.”
Curious, Libby rose from the bed and followed her aunt into the hall and up a narrow flight of stairs to the third floor. It was a different staircase from the one that led to her father's suite. This space smelled of disuse and dampness.
Libby glanced around the stark space. “No one lives up here, do they?”
Pearl fiddled with a key in the lock of the first door to the right. “Oh no. Once upon a time it was the servants' quarters, but since it became an inn back in the sixties, it's been used only for storage.” With a final click of the knob, she flung open the door.
Their feet had left prints on the dust in the halls, but not a speck of dust was in this chamber. Ceilings soared to fifteen feet. The walls were painted a pale lemon, and the wood floors were polished. “What is this place?” Libby asked, peering through the gloom.
“One moment.” Pearl felt along the wall, then light filled the room.
Libby's eyes took a moment to adjust, then she gasped as the paintings came into view. “A-Are those real?” She moved close enough to see the brushstrokes. “They look like Washington Allston originals.”
“They are. Ray loved the religious ones. He said Allston always chose obscure events in the Old Testament to illustrate how we should live out our faith.”
Libby stared at the picture of a young woman sleeping at the feet of an older man. “Ruth and Boaz?” This one was hardly about an obscure event.
Pearl nodded. “He loved it, though it also reminded him that he had failed you. Boaz always did the right thing, in the right order. Ray felt he would never aspire to that high mark.”
Libby glanced around the room. “How many did he collect?”
“Five in all.”
“They're worth a fortune.”
“They are indeed. I'm surprised you recognized them.”
“I'm a huge Allston fan. I have a tiny print that's sat on my dresser ever since I can remember.” She put her hand to her throat. “Did my father give that to me?”
“The one of
Moonlit Landscape
?” Pearl nodded. “It was his favorite. Though he could never own the original, he has some prints stored in another room.”
“So that's why I love Allston,” Libby said. “I inherited the love from him.”
“He used to take you to art museums, starting when you were six months old. We laughed and told him you were too young, but he carried you from picture to picture, explaining what each painting was and why it was significant.”
Libby wished she remembered. How much of her personality and passions had she absorbed from a father she never knew?
“Why did my parents divorce? Why did he leave me behind? Did he love Vanessa more?”
Pearl took her hand and squeezed. “Never think that, honey! Your mother flipped a coin. He got Vanessa, and she kept you.”
Libby shuddered at the word picture her aunt's description evoked. “Why would he agree to that?”
“He wanted to take you both, but back then it would have been impossible to get custody of both of you without her agreement. He had no grounds. She told him she only had the energy for one child, that he could take one. It was the luck of the draw.”
“So they flipped a coin and ripped a family apart.”
Libby didn't want to be bitter. She didn't. But it was hard to come to grips with what had been done to her and Vanessa.
A dog barked. Bree and Samson must have come back. “I think I'll go for a swim and clear my head.”
“I'll pray for you, honey. You need to forgive and let go of this.”
Easier said than done.
T
he water beckoned like a lover. Libby dug her toes into the soft sand and watched the waves for a moment. Samson had wanted a walk, so she'd taken him with her. Bree had taken the children to get cleaned up for dinner.
A swim would clear Libby's head, though she knew she should march right back inside and demand Vanessa talk to her. In Libby's wildest dreams she'd never expected to find a sister who hated her. This could have been such a wonderful day. Instead it was a nightmare that she couldn't awaken from.
She pulled off her cover-up and tossed it on the sand. “Want to go for a swim, Samson?” The dog's ears perked at the word
swim
. He danced around her and barked wildly, then ran toward the waves and snapped at the foam.
“Moron,” she said, laughing. The dog barked excitedly in answer.
She kicked off her flip-flops and ran into the waves. The shock of the cold water made her gasp, then giggle like she was ten. A breaker rolled toward her, and she waited until the right moment before diving into it. The force of the current rolled her along the bottom, but she relished its power. When she was in the water, she forgot all her troubles. She surfaced and tossed her hair out of her face. The sea didn't feel so cold now that she was fully immersed. She broke into a breaststroke and crested the next wave. Samson kept up with her as she swam out.
When she turned to look back, she was a hundred yards out. There didn't seem to be a riptide, so she flipped onto her back and let the waves float her along. Sheer heaven. It would be sunset soon, so she wouldn't stay out too long. Sharks would be out.
When the first nudge came on her leg, she thought it was a fish. She straightened to a vertical position and looked around. Then something grabbed her leg and yanked her under the water. She managed to gasp oxygen into her lungs before her head was submerged. Though the salt water burned, she opened her eyes underwater and saw a diver in a black wetsuit. It was too dark to see much detail, but she could make out the person's masculine build and the air tank on his back.
She kicked out with her right foot and hit him in the chest, but the blow didn't make him turn her loose. His fingers squeezed her leg so tightly that it was beginning to go numb. Bubbles rose around her as he dragged her deeper under the waves. He reached the bottom and stood on the sand. She floated just above him with his hand still holding her fast.
He's trying to drown me
. The shock of realizing his intention made her release a bit of her precious air into the water. Her lungs began to burn. She flailed to free herself, but he was stronger. Samson would not be able to dive down to help her. If she wanted to live, she had to escape this man. Panic drove all thought from her head for a few moments, then she forced herself to focus.
Think, Libby!
Her only chance was to deprive him of oxygen. She lashed out with her foot, aiming for his face. Her heel struck his mouthpiece and it flipped out of his mouth. Bubbles escaped in a flurry. He let go of her legs and grabbed the mask. Lungs burning, Libby shot for the surface. He would be right behind her. She had to get to safety. Her feet pumped, and she rose toward the light.
She didn't think she could hold out much longer. Her vision began to dim, then her head broke the surface. She filled her lungs with air and shook her head to clear it. Shore was more than a hundred and twenty yards away. She struck out for the safety of the sand, vaguely aware that Samson was snarling. A hand grazed her ankle and she kicked hard, then swam to the right and then back toward shore. The diver had the advantage of seeing her from below. It would be a miracle if she escaped him.
Help, Lord!
Her muscles were beginning to tire from the exertion, but she kept up the pace. Her starved lungs wanted her to pause and gather in more oxygen, but there was no time. Not if she wanted to live. She dared a glance back and saw a head pop up. The sight galvanized her into swimming even more frantically. The dog growled to her right. He left her side, but she didn't look back until the snarling reached a ferocious level. The dog had his teeth clamped on the man's arm. The diver struck at Samson, but the dog held on.
This was her chance to escape. She swam for all she was worth. The shore grew closer and closer until her knees scraped bottom. She staggered to her feet and practically fell onto the beach. There was no time to recover though. She sprang back up and turned to stare out to sea. Where was the dog?
“Samson!” She screamed his name into the wind. The harsh caw of a seagull was the only answer. She half turned to run to the inn for help, then she saw his head break the waves. He was swimming for shore. There was no sign of her attacker.
