Читать книгу An Unlikely Father - Cynthia Thomason, Cynthia Thomason - Страница 10

PETULA DEERING’S SEVEN-YEAR-OLD compact car rolled to a stop in front of the weathered cedar cottage at the edge of the Gulf. Pet got out and headed to the front door. “Three times a week,” she mumbled. “For the past six years I’ve parked in the same spot and walked up this sidewalk at least three times a week.” She stared at the old cement slabs under her shoes. “Even the cracks are the same. They’ve gone unpatched for six years.”

Pet had moved to Heron Point to get away from routine. All her life, she avoided the ruts that trapped so many people while life passed them by. She’d even changed husbands three times, burying the last one and sending the first two packing. Yet here she was, crazy about a man who kept her tied to an emotional string, never moving forward, yet never letting go.

But in the last few weeks she’d sensed change in the air in Heron Point, and she’d begun to long for the old excitement in her own life. People in town were enthusiastic again, hopeful, and Pet was feeling it, too. Unfortunately, her biggest challenge was to get Finn Sweeney to accept that change was good, because it was way past time he admitted that he should change his twenty-five-year bachelor status and ask her to marry him. That’s all she wanted, really—a firm commitment from the man she adored—and she would have all the excitement she needed.

As she approached the entrance to the cottage, Andy stood up from his spot in front of the fireplace and ambled to the screen door. He emitted a low-pitched whine of welcome when she came inside and swished his great golden tail in anticipation of her attention. While she patted his head, it occurred to her that too often there was more life in this arthritic old dog than there was in Finn. Well, maybe she could do something about that.

Finn wheeled his chair around from in front of the television and smiled. “Hello, beautiful.”

He always called her by some form of endearment, and she loved that about him. She was fifty-nine years old and certainly no longer beautiful if she ever had been. But she was interesting looking. She kept her platinum hair long and tied with ribbons and leather and fancy clips. She wore ankle-length, flowing garments that masked her middle-age flaws and accentuated her still-positive qualities. She kept her lavender eyes, which Finn said either beguiled or bewitched him, depending on her mood, sparkling with penciled outlines in shades of pink and sapphire.

“Hello, handsome,” she said as she walked between Finn and the television to deposit her enormous tote bag on the sofa. As she passed, he grabbed a fistful of gauzy skirt and pulled her back onto his lap. She landed with a low chortle and nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck. “It’s a good thing you don’t have feeling in these legs or you’d be hollering about my weight.”

“Ha! I’d never complain about that. Besides, I’ve got feeling where I need it, and you are lighting my fire, woman.”

She laughed and stood up. Okay. There were still moments of pure excitement in her life after all. “Hold that thought, old man. I’ve brought your dinner from work. I don’t want you passing out from lack of nutrition.”

She spread the top of her bag and took out a sack from the Green Door Café. “Snapper sandwich, fries and coleslaw,” she said. “It was the special today.”

Finn had already returned his attention to the television. “Damn news,” he said. “Damn Republicans. I miss Walter Cronkite. At least he could deliver the news without depressing the hell out of a person.”

Pet warmed his dinner and brought it out on a tray with a glass of iced tea. He turned off the television and began eating. “So, any news from town today?” he asked.

This was her chance. “Oh, you bet. Since that fella from Anderson Enterprises arrived, everybody’s talking about the reopening of Dolphin Run.”

He grunted, dipped a fry in ketchup. “Bunch of damn fools to get all riled up over an Anderson in town.”

Pet ignored him and pressed on. “Everybody’s making plans,” she said. “The town council’s talking about sprucing up Island Avenue. Larry hired a contractor to give him a quote on fixing up the Green Door’s outside eating area. He wants to expand and add new lighting, maybe some of those outdoor heaters so we can keep the patio open even in the cold months.

“Claire hired a couple of guys to paint the town hall. She’s picked a nice shade of peach. And I saw new porch furniture at the Heron Point Hotel today.” Pet took a sip of her iced tea. “It’s exciting, Finn. Really it is. Change is good, you know. Keeps us young.”

Finn stared at the television as if he hadn’t turned it off, his way of avoiding eye contact with her, she supposed. “Not if it means Archie Anderson is coming to town,” he said. “That kind of change will ruin Heron Point, you mark my words.”

Being a self-proclaimed spiritual person, Pet didn’t rise to anger quickly. She’d found it easy to maintain a calm sense of being in Heron Point. This little town made hibernating bears out of the most aggressive beasts. But she was angry now. She set her tea glass on the floor, crossed her arms over her knees and leaned so close to Finn that he actually jerked back a couple of inches.

And she blasted him. “Finn Sweeney, I am sick of hearing you spew all this negativity about Archie Anderson. For over a month now you’ve berated the man and his company without offering one bit of concrete evidence to support your contempt.” She sat back and let her gaze wander slowly over his features from the top of his head to his shoulders. “There’s a bad aura about you, has been for weeks. You’re under a psychic cloud, while everybody else in Heron Point is standing in the sunshine.”

His face pinched up, so for a moment his bushy gray eyebrows seemed to connect with his moustache and beard. A hairy monster about to explode. “You don’t like it, Petula, there’s the door.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to leave you alone to stew in the cauldron of discontent you’re trying to brew up for this town. Well, it’s not going to happen because I’m not going anywhere unless it’s out to Dolphin Run to do a little investigating of my own. I guarantee you I can walk inside that big ol’ place and sense what’s going on as fast as you can snap your fingers.” She snapped her own in front of his face to prove her point. “I’ll find out if there are ghosts around that run-down resort. I don’t need you to tell me.”

His brows drew together in a threatening frown. “You stay away from Dolphin Run.”

“I will not. At least not until I get some answers from you.”

He stared at her, his gray eyes glittering. Just when she thought steam might come out of his ears, he said, “All right then, Petula, what’re the damn questions?”

Now she was getting somewhere. “How do you know Archie Anderson? Why do you hate him? What did a big financier from Manhattan ever do to you, a fisherman from Heron Point? What connection do you have with Dolphin Run? How…”

He held up a hand. “Hold your horses, Pet. You’re making my head spin.” He took a deep breath.

She waited.

He clasped his hands in his lap and stared at them a full minute before speaking so softly she had to strain to hear him. “Forty-seven years ago a boy drowned off the dock at Dolphin Run. And a twenty-one-year-old man tried to save him and nearly lost his own life in the process. And it was all Archie Anderson’s doing.” She gasped. He looked up into her eyes. “And that’s just the half of it,” he said.

THE ENTHUSIASTIC PARTY of five meandered among the Friday-night crowd the two blocks from Wear It Again to the Pepperoni Pit, Heron Point’s only pizza restaurant. Helen lagged behind Jack, Claire and Ethan, and walked with Jane. They kept up a lively discussion about school and boys and Claire’s upcoming wedding to Jack. Tonight especially, Helen enjoyed Jane’s company, maybe because the idea of having a child of her own was not as remote as it always had been.

Plus, there was another advantage to walking behind the other adults. Helen decided right away that she liked the view of Ethan’s back as he moved through the crowd. Having abandoned his neatly pressed pants for a worn pair of jeans and a navy-blue-and-white knit shirt, he looked almost like a local tonight. Traces of Manhattan still defined him, however. His shirt was tucked into the waistband and, in Claire’s shop, Helen had noticed an embroidered emblem over his pocket. That simple knit garment had probably cost as much as Helen spent on clothes in an entire year.

Ethan was shaped nicely, too. Not like the muscle-bound cycle types who showed up in Heron Point on weekends. And not like the wiry, skinny men who lived in town year-round and drank beer and shot pool in the local taverns. No, Ethan was sculpted like a fine work of art, broad across the shoulders, narrow at his hips, rounded at his quite admirable buns. If he made money for Anderson Enterprises by sitting at a computer or attending high-powered meetings, he obviously made time for fitness, as well.

While she stared at him, he turned toward Jack, said something that made them both smile and raked his long fingers through his light brown hair. The style was neat and trim, just long enough for strands at his neck to brush the collar of his shirt. His profile was nice, too. A well-defined nose and chin, a slightly sloped, strong brow. Helen hadn’t been able to study these details the night before when they’d sat in the dark on the hood of her truck eating cake. And the day she’d smashed his car she’d been too nervous to give him more than a quick once-over. But now, in the soft rays of the setting sun, Helen liked what she saw.

She shook her head to keep her thoughts from wandering in a dangerous direction. “Stop it, Sweeney,” she said. “You made a promise to yourself, remember? No more…”

“What did you promise?” Jane asked.

Helen pressed her lips together and reminded herself that she was talking out loud. “Ah, pizza,” she said. “I promised I wouldn’t eat pizza for a while.” She laughed. “I never should have promised that, now should I?”

They were coming to the entrance of the pizza shop, and Jane skipped ahead to her mother. “Heck, no.”

Ethan held the door, and Claire and Jane went inside. Since Heron Point was packed with strangers, Helen didn’t expect to see anyone she knew. The townies usually stayed home on Friday nights, at least during the dinner hour. Which explained her shock when she stepped into the doorway and bumped into Maddie Harrison.

“Helen! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Holding her pizza box in one hand, Dr. Tucker’s receptionist grabbed Helen’s elbow and dragged her away from the door to stand in the middle of the sidewalk.

Helen groaned. What luck. When a woman was keeping a secret of enormous proportions, the last person she wanted to see was the only other human being in town who knew anything about it. She freed her arm from Maddie’s grasp. “Sheesh, Maddie, you’ve got quite a grip for a grandmother.”

“That’s exactly why I have it. Because I am a grandmother. I haven’t lost one of the little scamps yet.” She pierced Helen with a concerned glare. “Why haven’t you made an appointment to come back to the office?”

Helen glanced at the door, which Ethan still held open. Claire had poked her head outside, and both of them were staring at her. “Maddie, now isn’t a good time,” she hissed, jerking her head toward the door. “And smile, will you? With that look on your face, Claire will think you’re telling me I have only two weeks to live.”

Maddie dropped her voice to a whisper. “But I’m worried about you. First you come to me to buy the test. Then I hear you’ve been in a terrible accident.”

“It wasn’t like that…”

“And now, look at you. Pale, washed out. Your hair’s got no shine to it.”

Helen shook her head. “Thanks, Maddie. That’s just what I needed to hear tonight.” She looked at her evenly tanned forearm. “I’m hardly pale. I was on the Gulf for five hours today.”

“Well, never mind. What did you find out?” She leaned in close. “Are you?”

Helen debated telling the truth for about two seconds, and then realized Maddie would find out anyway. “Let me put it this way. You probably should get me in to see Doc Tucker one day next week.”

Maddie’s bright red lips rounded as if she were singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.” “How exciting!” She immediately reined in her outburst. “Of course, that’s only if you’re happy with the news.”

“I don’t know,” Helen said. “I haven’t decided for sure what I’m going to do.”

“Okay, but you should start prenatals just in case. You don’t want to take any chances.”

“Okay, fine.” Helen looked at Ethan, who gestured inside the restaurant. “Go ahead,” she called. “I’ll be right there.” He stepped inside. Helen breathed easier and grasped Maddie’s free hand. “You can’t tell anyone, Maddie. Remember, you promised.”

“I know. I won’t tell. But if you need someone to talk to about this, I’m an expert.”

It was a nice offer, and Helen was glad to get it. Some secrets were too big to carry alone. “I’ll call you on Monday. We’ll set up an appointment.”

Maddie nodded and started to walk away. She’d only taken a couple of steps before she turned back around. “That fella…the one who was standing by the door just now.”

“Yes?”

“Would he be the father?”

“Heavens, no! That’s Ethan Anderson. He just got into town.”

“Too bad. What a nice-looking young man.” She frowned. “Then it must be that scoundrel, Donovan Jax, who I heard left town.”

Helen didn’t confirm or deny the accusation.

Maddie smiled down at Helen’s tummy. “Don’t worry, little one. You’ve got good strong genes on your mama’s side. Gotta go, Helen. Pizza’s getting cold.” She turned and headed down the block, and Helen followed her friends into the Pepperoni Pit.

She found five chairs crammed around a table for four. The only empty seat was next to Ethan. When she saw the coy expression on Claire’s face, Helen knew at once who’d masterminded the seating arrangement. She slid in beside Ethan and bumped her bare leg against his hard, denim-clad thigh. She scooted a couple of inches away. “Sorry.”

He gave her an odd smile and rephrased her statement from the previous evening. “I’ve never heard of anyone catching anything from a pair of jeans.”

A waiter brought a Coke for Jane and a pitcher of beer, which he placed in the middle of the table. Jack picked it up and poured, first into Claire’s glass and then aimed for Helen’s. She placed her hand over the top.

Jack laughed. “Now I know there’s a full moon. You don’t want a beer?”

“No. Not tonight.” When he continued to hold the pitcher above her glass, she knew further explanation was necessary. Helen Sweeney never turned down a beer. “I’m still suffering from the mortification of my behavior at your engagement party.”

“You were just having fun,” Jack said.

Yeah, and look where it got me. “Sometimes, Jack, I have a little too much fun.”

He poured into Ethan’s glass. “Okay. Suit yourself.”

Jane found a friend, borrowed a few quarters and went off to play video games. Jack draped his elbow over the back of his chair and said, “So, Ethan, you talk to Archie today?”

“Sure did. He hasn’t stopped complaining that you’re not working for him anymore.”

“He’s got some good men around him. And I’m here when he decides to come to Heron Point. By the way, do you know when that will be?”

“A couple of weeks. And believe me, he expects miracles before then.”

Helen tucked that bit of information away. The great Archie Anderson was coming to the island to personally check out his new investment. She’d have to remember to tell Finn, or maybe not. Considering Finn’s reaction to any mention of Archie’s name, maybe it would be wiser not to warn him of the arrival at all. She relegated that decision to a later time because Jack’s question had presented the opportunity for her to ask about the resort and plans for its reopening. “What are you going to do with Dolphin Run?” she said to Ethan.

“I’m starting tomorrow with a cleaning crew,” he answered. “Mostly because I’m moving in on Sunday.”

Jack raised his eyebrows in obvious alarm. “What? You’re leaving the hotel? You didn’t tell me that.”

“I don’t tell you a lot of things, Jack,” Ethan said, with what seemed like forced teasing in his voice. “My rental car arrived late last night and I actually drove into Micopee all by myself this morning.” He shot Helen an amused look. “Made it all the way there and back without getting a scratch on the new ride, too.”

“You should have told me about your plans to move, though,” Jack said.

“Seems to me I just did.”

“Great.”

Helen broke the uncomfortable tension between the two men with another question. “All right. You’re having the place cleaned. Then what?”

“I’m meeting with a county engineer tomorrow. He’s going to check out the building, make sure it’s structurally safe.” He looked at Jack again. “While Jack was still on Dad’s payroll, he made certain the building was safe as Fort Knox with all the wires and security codes and hidden cameras. I just have to know that a guest won’t fall through the second-story floorboards once we open up.”

“I’ve never even seen the place,” Helen said, thinking she might wrangle an invitation. She wanted to scope out the old building, see how many rooms it had, how many guests and potential customers for her charter business it could accommodate. “It closed before I was born.”

“You’ll have to stop by then,” Ethan said. “How about tomorrow? You might have to dodge clouds of dust, but I’ll be there most all day.”

That was easy. Helen noticed Claire’s suggestive smile and spoke before her friend accepted the invitation for her—one she unfortunately would have to turn down. “Can’t tomorrow. I’ve got two charters, morning and afternoon.”

“Oh. Too bad.”

“What about Sunday?” Claire said. “You don’t have two charters then, do you?”

“Ah, no. Only one in the morning.”

Ethan took a swallow of beer. “Great. Like I said, I’m moving in, so I should be there. I’ll leave the gate open so you can drive in without busting it down.”

Helen snickered and Jack continued to look worried. “Is that such a good idea, Ethan? Leaving the gate open?”

“It is if you’ve seen Helen drive.”

Even Jack laughed at that, and while the men were distracted, Claire kicked Helen under the table. Come over before you go, she mouthed. Helen figured Claire was arranging her first attempt at a Sweeney makeover.

“You’ll have to come to our place for Thanksgiving, Ethan,” Claire said. “Helen and her father will be there. Helen makes the best cranberry-orange relish.”

It was a good thing the pizza hadn’t arrived yet, or Helen would surely have choked on it. Before she could comment on the blatant lie, Ethan’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and stood up. “That’s Dad now. I’ll take this outside.”

As soon as he’d walked away from the table, Helen speared Claire with an accusatory glare. “What did you tell him that for? I can’t make any kind of stupid relish. I can barely fry an egg.”

Claire grinned. “Relax. I’ll make the relish. You’re the one who wants to impress Ethan with the new you. Why not start by at least pretending you can cook?”

Jack looked from one to the other. “What’s going on here?”

Luckily no explanation was necessary because the waiter arrived with two giant chrome pedestals overflowing with pizza crust. Ethan returned in a couple of minutes and sat down.

“Trouble?” Jack asked.

“No. Everything’s okay, but Archie did say something kind of surprising.”

“Oh? What?”

“Claire had just mentioned Helen and her father coming over for Thanksgiving…”

“And?” Jack prompted.

Ethan looked at Helen. “What’s your father’s name?”

“Finn.”

“I thought so. Dad just asked me if I’d run into a guy named Finn Sweeney. I immediately connected the name with yours, of course. How do you suppose my father has heard of Finn?”

Helen set her slice of pizza on a paper plate. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” she said. “But lately that has been the million-dollar question.”

ETHAN COULDN’T GET his father’s interest in Finn out of his mind. Even after Jack paid the tab and everybody split up to go their separate ways, Ethan still wondered. He followed Helen out of the restaurant. “Do you need a lift home?” he asked.

“No. I drove my truck.”

“Where’d you park? I’ll walk you.”

Her eyes widened in astonishment for just an instant, and he thought she might dismiss his offer. Maybe walking a woman to her car wasn’t such a priority in Heron Point, but Ethan was from Manhattan. Things were different there. And besides, it was early, and he didn’t mind hanging out with her a little longer. Among other possibilities, maybe they could come up with an answer to the Archie-Finn mystery.

“It’s close by,” she said.

He walked beside her down a narrow alley that ended after a couple of blocks at the Gulf. Her vehicle was parked near the corner, close to Island Avenue where the crowds still lingered. A few couples strolled past them heading for the water. When they reached her truck, Helen stopped, leaned against the hood.

“You feel like going a little farther?” Ethan asked, patting his abdomen. “I wouldn’t mind walking off a little of this pizza.”

She stuck her hands in her pockets, hunched her shoulders.

“It’s too cold, isn’t it?” he said, realizing the temperature had dropped since the sun set.

“It’s fine,” she said, pushing away from the truck. “Let’s go.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a minute until he said, “So what do you think is the connection between our fathers?”

“I wish I knew. I can tell you this much, Finn doesn’t seem to like your dad.”

The bluntness of her answer caught Ethan off guard. Nearly everyone in his circle of acquaintances liked Archie—or at least respected him. “That’s odd,” he said. “Do you know why?”

“Haven’t a clue. But Finn will tell me when he’s ready.”

“When might that be?”

“With Finn, you never know. He keeps stuff inside.”

Ethan frowned. Like father, like daughter. He was just thinking that Helen was about as unreadable as a blank page. Deciding he wouldn’t get any more info from her tonight, he changed the subject. “Tell me about your business. Do you run the charter boat by yourself?”

“Basically. But the law requires that every public charter company has at least one mate on board. It’s a good idea. In a typical trip there’s too much work for one person to handle.”

They reached the shore and Ethan looked out at shimmering waves that rolled from a limitless horizon to wash up on the sand. “How far out do you go?” he asked.

“It depends where the fish are. As far as we need to. At least a mile, sometimes five or six.”

“What do you do with the fish you catch?”

“We operate a catch and release boat. None of the fish we bring in can be mounted as trophies. We let the fishermen haul them on board, we take their picture and then release them. If the fish is a good-eating variety, we’ll sometimes bring it home, clean it and sell it to one of the restaurants in town.”

Ethan wouldn’t know one fish from another, but he did enjoy snapper and grouper when it was offered on a menu. “That sounds like a sporting way of doing things,” he said. “So how do all the taxidermists stay in business?”

“We don’t have one in Heron Point, probably because we’re the only charter company in town and wouldn’t send them any customers. We just don’t think it’s the right thing to do.”

She shivered, hugged her elbows close to her sides and pushed her hands deeper into her pockets. A cool wind blew off the Gulf. The temperature away from the protection of the buildings was at least ten degrees colder than on the avenue. Ethan wished he had a jacket to offer her. She couldn’t know that to a New Yorker, this was like a balmy summer night. He wrapped his hands around her arms, rubbed his palms over her skin. “You’re freezing. We’ll go back.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” she said through chattering teeth.

He was forced to release her as they turned away from the water. They’d nearly cleared the sand when they had to skirt around another couple sharing a passionate kiss. The lovers were oblivious to anyone else on the beach.

Pretending great seriousness, Helen said, “That’s weekenders for you. No shame.”

Ethan laughed, leaned close to her and caught a whiff of something nice, lemony and salty at the same time. Fresh, not bottled. He liked it and thought about putting his arm around her, using the chill wind as an excuse. But instead he said, “I don’t know. Maybe the weekenders have the right idea.”

All at once she seemed to draw away from him, stiffen, becoming a defensive version of the easygoing woman she’d been just a moment ago. Surely she hadn’t taken offense at what he’d said. He didn’t mean anything by it. Not really. She walked more briskly. When they reached her truck she stepped away from him, pulled her keys out of her pocket and said, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll probably see you Sunday, then.”

“I’ll try to make it. I don’t always know how long the charter will take.”

“Okay. I’ll be around if you decide to come over.”

She got in the truck, started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. With a skillful snap of the wheel, she turned the lumbering vehicle around and headed out of town.

Ethan watched until her taillights faded in the distance. Then he made his way back to the hotel. Even after spending a couple of hours with Helen, he realized he didn’t know a whole lot more about her than he had when he’d walked into Claire’s shop earlier. But his interest in her had grown considerably.

HELEN DIDN’T STOP shivering until she turned onto Gulfview Road, and she knew her reaction had nothing to do with the temperature. She was still scolding herself when she pulled into the driveway at her cottage. “Watch yourself, Sweeney,” she said. “The idea is to cement a working relationship with this guy, not to fall for him. You’ve got enough problems without letting your imagination run wild over Ethan Anderson. At least with Donny, you thought there was a chance he might stick around. You know this one won’t.”

She stepped onto the shellrock drive and slammed the truck door. “Sure, he seems like a nice guy,” she said. “But how many times have you fallen for an act like that?” She stomped to the back porch door and yanked it open. Andy peered up at her from the hardwood floor in the kitchen. “Hello, mutt,” she said.

She knelt down beside him and rubbed the thick fur at his neck. “We Sweeneys are a stupid lot, aren’t we, big guy? I keep butting my head against a wall thinking some guy is going to really care about me and what I want, and, with a half-dozen doggie beds around this place, you keep sleeping on the floor. Gluttons for punishment, that’s what we are. Too stupid to learn and too old to start over.”