Читать книгу Falling For The Single Dad - Lisa Carter - Страница 12
Оглавление“It’s a critical time, Caroline. Peak season is approaching. I’m glad your team will be joining us seaside.”
Caroline smiled at Dr. Roland Teague, a fellow marine scientist. They’d walked from the nearby Virginia Institute of Marine Science facility—VIMS—in Wachapreague to the Island House for a lunchtime meeting. Situated over the inlet on pylons, the bank of windows in the restaurant overlooked the tidal marsh.
She’d known Roland since her undergrad days at Virginia Tech. The fifty-something scientist had been a friend and professional mentor ever since. Clad in an outlandishly tropical shirt, Bermuda shorts and boat shoes, Roland hadn’t changed much over the years. Except for the streaks of silver in his thinning Jimmy Buffet–style mane.
Catching her staring, Roland laughed. “What’s gray, stays.”
She laughed as he’d meant her to. “How’s Danielle?” She owed Roland and his wife more than she could ever repay. They’d been a blessing in an otherwise very dark time in her life.
“Busy with the end-of-quarter classes at the community college. She said to tell you hello. She wants you to come over for dinner soon.” Roland paused to take a deep swig of sweet tea. “I’m excited about this plan you’ve spearheaded with the aquarium board of directors in Virginia Beach.”
After what had happened this morning with her father, she was no longer so sure that her personal involvement in the sea turtle project had been a good idea.
Roland set his glass on the tabletop with a dull ping. “Last year, we found sixteen nests on the Eastern Shore, though we’re on the extreme northern limits of their nesting grounds. This year biologists are predicting record high numbers. We’re overdue on the Shore for a rescue center of our own.”
She swirled the batter-fried hush puppy in the small tub of butter. “Nesting is up along the entire coastline of the southeastern United States. We’re not sure why. Maybe climate change and warmer weather has raised water temperatures.”
“That’s why your expertise is so invaluable to us here. You’ve got an impressive résumé. Everything from the Caribbean and Central America to coordinating one of North Carolina’s Outer Banks stranding teams.”
An expert in aquaculture, he winked. “Not to mention you’re a hometown girl and have an ‘in’ with the locals.”
Caroline refrained from disabusing him of that notion. On her last research assignment in Virginia Beach, she’d pushed the idea of creating a rehabilitation center staffed by a few professionals and manned by interns in the high season to educate the local populace and serve as another Eastern Shore tourist draw.
She’d spent long hours with a planning committee formulating a cost-effective strategy. If the center was successful, she hoped the aquatic veterinary hospital would also eliminate the need to transport injured marine animals to treatment centers farther away. The animals most often did not survive transport. A hospital on the Eastern Shore would mean the difference between life and death.
“The center will bring much needed jobs on the Shore,” Roland added.
She thought of her father and his stubborn refusal to accede gracefully to any change. “I hope Kiptohanock and the other coastal villages will catch our vision. If they decide to balk...” She bit off the end of the hush puppy.
“That’s why the board sent you. You’re our public relations secret weapon. With ‘small-town girl makes good’ as our leading advocate, what can go wrong?”
She traced the condensation on her tea glass with her finger. What could go wrong indeed? Without the backing of influential locals—like Seth Duer—the proposed center would die a quick death in the face of resistance to change and a deep-seated distrust of outsiders.
The Eastern Shore was isolated by nature. And the Eastern Shore population preferred it that way.
She grimaced. “No pressure there, Roland.”
He popped a hush puppy into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “I have all the faith in the world in you, Caroline.”
Glad somebody did. If she didn’t believe so strongly in this program... If God hadn’t clearly shown her it was time to go home and make amends, she’d... She’d be on a beach off the turquoise waters of St. Kitts.
“It’s all hands on deck at this time of year. Sometimes we get ten calls a day from home owners, the Guard, game wardens and watermen.”
She nodded. “Thanks for offering us access to your laboratory here during the pilot program. My graduate students will arrive later today.”
“They’ll bunk in the dormitory with my summer interns.” He speared a sea scallop with his fork. “I guess with family here, you’ll be living with them and not on the economy as the Coasties say.”
She was saved from making an embarrassing admission when Roland’s cell, clamped to his belt, beeped.
“Teague here.” His eyes widened. “Where?” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I’ll send her right away.”
She tilted her head as he ended the call.
“You’ve got your first case.” He grinned. “It was the marine animal hotline. There’s a turtle stranded on a nearby beach.”
“What species?”
He pocketed his phone. “Home owner didn’t say. Probably wouldn’t know a loggerhead from a leatherback anyway.”
“Where did you say the turtle’s beached?”
“Out on the Neck by the old lighthouse.”
She scraped back her chair. “I haven’t been out that far in years. Does the access road still connect the barrier island to the peninsula? Or was it washed out in the hurricane last year?”
“I’ll text you the precise coordinates. But the causeway is still intact. In great shape, actually, since a new owner bought the lighthouse from the Coast Guard. He’s in the process of renovating the entire structure.”
She rolled her eyes. “Another ’come here?”
He pushed his plate aside. “Speaking as a ’come here myself, don’t sell us short too quickly. Go and do your thing. Saving the turtle plus winning the hearts and minds of our Shore neighbors.”
She grabbed the bill. “Roger that.” And gave him a mock salute. “I’m on my way.”
* * *
Weston watched the gunmetal-gray RAV4 round the point. He finished cutting the board for the crown molding and dusted his hands across his cargo shorts. The SUV sped down the causeway to the neck of land upon which the lighthouse and keeper’s cottage had been built over a hundred years ago.
Removing his work gloves, he cut his eyes at Izzie. She perched at the top of the dune, per his explicit instructions, awaiting the aquatic veterinarian the stranding hotline had promised to send.
The vehicle slid to a halt beside his Colorado. The door swung open, and a reddish brown head emerged from the car. Reddish brown...
He squinted, not believing his eyes. What was the librarian doing here? Maybe she’d driven the vet out to their remote location. Weston scanned the RAV4 for other signs of life.
“Caroline!” Izzie clambered down the dune and flung herself at the librarian.
Who’d exchanged her business attire for rolled jeans and a Hawaiian motif T-shirt with the outline of a sea turtle and the word Honu. She’d threaded her lustrous hair through the back of a ball cap labeled Kiptohanock Marine Animal Rescue Center. Caroline looked as surprised as he felt.
He placed one hand on his hip. “You’re not a librarian.”
A smile lifted one corner of her full lips. “No.” She hugged Izzie. “I’m not.”
“You’re a veterinarian?”
She disengaged Izzie’s stranglehold around her waist. “You seem to be having a hard time wrapping your head around that. You don’t think girls are smart enough to be vets?”
“Daddy says girls are smart enough to be anything they want to be. Smarter than boys more often than not.”
“Oh, really?” Caroline quirked her eyebrow. “Good to know.”
Her eyes flitted to the lightkeeper’s cottage behind him and upward to where the lighthouse towered. “So you’re the ’come here who bought this derelict relic of our Eastern Shore maritime history.”
Weston crossed his arms over his chest. “Not so derelict anymore, thanks to hours of labor.”
“Glad to see you’re not one of those who come to play but never invest in the local economy.”
He widened his stance, his feet even with his hips. A habit he’d never outgrown from his Coastie days. Born of keeping his balance on board the cutter amid surging seas. “We’re here to stay. I’ve put in my own labor to make sure this place becomes our year-round home.”
Izzie bounced on the balls of her feet. “Daddy and Sawyer are almost finished with my room.”
“Sawyer?” Caroline’s eyes sharpened. “Sawyer Kole?”
“You know him?”
She glanced away. “Not well.” Her gaze returned to him. “And you’d be the former Coastie who bought this place. Commander Clark.”
“It’s Weston. I’m not in the Guard anymore.”
His daughter grinned. “He’s my full-time daddy now.”
Those melted chocolate eyes of hers flicked to where his left hand rested at his side. And his heart did a quick jerk.
“Come on, Caroline.” Izzie tugged at her arm. “The turtle mama’s hurt, and I think I’ve found her eggs.”
The lady vet hung back. “Turtle mama?”
Izzie, unable to remain motionless, surged ahead.
He shrugged. “Maybe I’ve got a budding aquatic vet, too.”
When she reached inside her vehicle, he noticed the five rows of beaded and metallic bracelets encircling one slim wrist. Caroline retrieved what resembled a tackle box. He tore his gaze away as the lady vet headed after Izzie.
He trudged through the sand beside her. “You work with turtles a lot?”
She plowed through the sand in her flip-flops. “I’m a turtle specialist, actually.”
Full of nervous energy, Izzie came back for them. “Y’all are so slow... Come on, everybody.”
He smiled. “Monkeys like you tire us old people out long before lunch.”
The vet paused to catch her breath at the crest of the dune. She peered at the dark blob on the sand below. “Is that a—?”
She stumbled down the dune toward the beach. Izzie charged after her.
He shuffled his way toward them at a more sedate pace. “Is that a what?”
Placing the tackle box on the sand, Caroline opened the lid and extracted a pair of latex gloves. “It’s a Kemp’s ridley.”
“Is that good?”
Her forehead creased. “Kemp’s ridleys are the most endangered sea turtles. The rarest of them all.”
Izzie crowded closer to inspect what he surmised was the marine veterinarian’s version of a doctor’s black bag.
“Let her work, sweetheart. Give the turtle lady room.”
Caroline gave him a curious look before she dropped to her knees.
He leaned forward. “I should’ve brought a beach towel so you wouldn’t get sand on your clothes.”
Above the briny sea air, the tantalizing whiff of the lady vet’s exotic perfume allured his senses. Jasmine? he wondered, remembering one CG assignment on Oahu.
Caroline touched the torn right-front flipper. “No worries. Sand is an occupational hazard of my job.” Her mouth tightened as she probed the depth of the hook protruding from the turtle’s esophagus. “I’ll need to transport the turtle for surgery.”
“You’ve got to make her better.” Izzie clasped her hands under her chin. “So she can take care of her babies.”
Caroline rose and brushed the sand from the knees of her jeans. “You didn’t uncover the eggs, did you?”
Izzie shook her head.
“Good.” Caroline’s gaze swept the beach and came to rest on the tire-like treads in the sand. “Most Kemp’s ridleys are born on a narrow strip of beach in Rancho Nuevo, Mexico. Juveniles forage the eastern seaboard as far north as Massachusetts for food. They especially love the shallow waters of the Chesapeake.”
Eyes on the tracks, she headed for the base of the dune. Izzie and Weston followed. When the tracks stopped, so did Caroline.
She pointed toward the disturbed area in the sand. “Most times the turtles camouflage the nest so well we can’t find it unless we catch them in the middle of laying eggs. But our turtle—probably from her injuries—didn’t do her usual thorough job. Lucky for us.”
Izzie found Caroline’s hand. “I’ll take care of Turtle Mama’s eggs till she can get better and come back.”
Caroline frowned. “All seven of the sea turtle species lay their eggs on the beach where they themselves were hatched and then they head out to sea again. They don’t stick around to make sure the eggs hatch, Izzie.”
“But something could dig ’em up and eat the babies. They could get lost after they hatch and never find their mama. We’ve got to protect ’em.”
Caroline looked over Izzie’s head at him.
Weston cleared his throat. “We need to let nature take its course. Not interfere, Izzie. They’ll hatch or they won’t, with or without us.”
“No, Daddy.” Izzie jutted her hip. “God put those turtle babies on our beach for us to help them.”
“I’m going to need your help, Izzie, in lots of ways.” She fingered the stack of bracelets on her wrist. “It’s extremely rare for a Kemp’s ridley to lay eggs anywhere other than Mexico. To my knowledge, this may only be the second case we’ve discovered. The first documented nest was found across the bay in 2008.”
He caught the excitement in her voice. “So this is a big deal? We’re making history.”
Caroline smiled.
His stomach turned over as those melted chocolate eyes of hers melted him.
“It is a big deal. A very big deal.”
Caroline squeezed Izzie’s hand. “We’re going to need to put stakes around the nest and markers. Because Kemp’s ridleys are so endangered, it’s important that we monitor the nest for the next few months of incubation to ensure that the hatchlings have the best chance of survival.”
She moistened her lips. “I’m afraid I may wear out my welcome on your beach before it’s over.”
He broadened his shoulders. “You won’t wear out your welcome with us, I promise.”
“It’s so exciting, isn’t it?” Izzie threw her arms around Caroline’s waist.
Caroline staggered, but hugged Izzie back. The turtle lady, he decided, was good with children. Or at least, with his child.
“I can’t wait to tell Max.”
Caroline’s smile faltered. She let go of Izzie. “The fewer people trampling the beach, the better chance the eggs have for hatching. We’ll need to erect a wire cage to fend off raccoons and foxes.”
“By we, you mean me?”
The smile returned to her lips.
His breath stutter-stepped. It could become addictive bringing a smile to the turtle lady’s face. He also decided maybe his initial impression of Caroline had been off base. Perhaps she was more bark than bite.
“If you wouldn’t mind...”
Mind? He blinked. It took him a second to refocus. Oh, right. She was talking about the cage.
“What about me, Caroline? What can I do?”
She smoothed Izzie’s hair. “I’ll need your dad’s help in loading the turtle into the kiddy pool in my car. But then it’s going to take a gazillion gallons of water to fill the pool enough to transport the turtle. And that’s where you come in.”
Izzie quivered from her sand-encrusted toes to the top of her unruly red hair. “I can do that. I’m good at filling buckets. Will Turtle Mama be okay?”
Caroline made eye contact with his daughter. “I’m going to have to do surgery to remove the hook and repair her flipper, but there are no guarantees, Izz.”
“Like in life,” he interjected.
Caroline’s lips thinned. “Exactly.”
She moved her car as close as she could to the beach without damaging the fragile dune biosphere. With a great deal of effort—mostly his and Caroline’s—they managed to shift the turtle from the beach and into the SUV. Izzie darted ahead of them and returned, looping them as they shouldered the hundred-pound turtle over the dune.
Teeth gritted, he muscled the primeval creature into the kiddy pool in the back of the vet’s vehicle. “You do this on a regular basis by yourself?” he grunted.
“Usually the grad students help. Good thing Kemp’s ridleys are the smaller sized among sea turtles or we couldn’t have managed on our own.”
After parking the SUV once again near the cottage, the lithe Caroline handed several empty plastic buckets to Izzie. “Would you be so kind as to fill these for me, Izz?”
He folded his arms across his T-shirt. “And you’re welcome.”
She tilted her head. “For what?”
He propped his hip against the open tailgate and nudged his chin at the turtle in the pool.
“Oh...” She shrugged. “I’m sure I would’ve somehow managed without you, but—”
“Is that your idea of a thank you?” He grinned. “Not really a people person, are you?”
She blushed a lovely shade of rose. “I’m better with animals. I spend most of my time with them. People are too...”
“Complicated?”
Her gaze shot to his. “More entangling than a fisherman’s net.”
Message sent and received. Like a warning shot fired across the bow. This woman wasn’t looking for relationships.
Good thing he wasn’t either. In his case, the burned child dreaded the fire. He found himself—against his better judgment—curious about what lay behind the beautiful vet’s aversion to relationships, though.
Not any of my business.
Izzie hurried from the house. One bucket clasped in both hands, she sloshed water over the rim and onto her bare toes.
The turtle lady might not be his business, but Izzie was. He’d never seen Izzie attach herself to anyone like this female veterinarian. And frankly, the idea of Izzie forming an attachment to the prickly vet disturbed Weston.
On a profound level, to a degree, Weston wasn’t sure he wanted to explore. He had Izzie’s well-being to consider. It was her fragile heart he was thinking about.
Wasn’t it?
Proud as if she’d single-handedly saved the free world, Izzie transferred the now half-empty bucket to the vet.
She smiled at his daughter. “Thank you, Izzie. You’re such a big help.”
Izzie took off at a run. “I’ll bring the other bucket, Caroline,” she called over her shoulder.
He straightened. “Let me—”
“I got it, Daddy. I’m not a baby.” His daughter never broke her stride.
Caroline poured the contents over the turtle’s carapace and into the pool.
“Will you take the turtle to the aquarium across the bay to Virginia Beach or up to Ocean City in Maryland?”
“Neither.” Caroline gave the turtle’s shell a small pat. “Fortunately for this injured lady, we’re headed to the new aquatic rehab center I’m establishing in Wachapreague for the summer.”
Izzie sloshed forward in time to hear Caroline’s last remarks. “Yay! You’ll be here the whole summer?” Bucket clutched at chest level, she bounced on her toes.
He and Caroline stepped back. But not soon enough. Water doused the tailgate and puddled at his and Caroline’s feet.
Weston seized the bucket before further damage ensued. “Izzie... Be careful.”
Izzie’s lower lip quivered. “I’m sorry. I was trying to help.”
“You are the best helper I’ve had in ages.” Caroline placed her palm on Izzie’s head for a millisecond before taking the bucket from him. “A little water never hurt anyone. Kind of refreshing in this early heat wave.”
Izzie danced on the tips of her toes again. “So you’ll be here the whole summer?”
Caroline concentrated on filling the kiddy pool. “Most of it.”
Weston’s stomach did a curious, roiling dive. A sliver of stupid anticipation coupled with a whole lot of fear. Not his business, he reminded himself.
“How’s Turtle Mama?” Izzie scrambled onto the bed of the truck. The truck rocked. Caroline wobbled.
“Careful, Monkey Girl...” His hand cupped Caroline’s elbow to steady her.
The lady vet’s eyes cut from his hand to his face. He reddened and let go of her.
“I realize we haven’t been formally introduced, but did you just call me a monkey?” Her lips curved into a smile. “Or should I assume that term of endearment was directed at Izzie?”
He decided the turtle lady had a nice smile. Nice sense of humor, too.
Weston’s hand tingled from the touch of her skin on his. If this was his reaction to the less-than-sociable lady vet, he needed to get out more.
Izzie laughed. “Silly Daddy calls me his monkey all the time.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. He nodded like an idiot. And flushed again.
Maybe the church ladies were right. Way past time for some female companionship. Nothing wrong with a friend from the opposite gender.
Izzie scooped a handful of water. “What’s going to happen to Turtle Mama?” She allowed it to trickle through her fingers onto the turtle.
The turtle lady gave Izzie what he guessed to be a highly redacted version of the surgical procedure.
“Can I watch?”
“I’m afraid not.” Caroline’s brow puckered. “We try, like at the people hospital, to keep everything as sterile—I mean germ free—as possible. Have you ever visited a people hospital before?”
His daughter squeezed Caroline’s fingers and hopped from the bed of the truck. “Last fall when Max’s baby was born. Babies are so sweet.” Izzie sighed.
Weston tweaked the end of Izzie’s nose. “Babies are also smelly and loud and take your favorite toys.”
“You know Max Scott?” Caroline’s mouth pulled downward. “Of course you know the Duers, if you know Sawyer Kole. Everybody knows everybody in good ol’ Kiptohanock.”
Her lips twisted. “You can’t flush a toilet at one end without the other end knowing.”
Izzie snuggled under her father’s arm. “Max and I are sorta friends.”
Weston grabbed Izzie into a headlock. “Sort of doesn’t quite capture it.”
He ruffled Izzie’s red mane. “Try compadre in mischief. Best buddy in mayhem. Bonnie to Max’s Clyde. When they’re not aggravating the tar out of each other, that is.”
Izzie laughed and broke free.
Caroline reached toward Izzie’s tousled hair. “You messed up her—” She dropped her hand. “Not my business.”
No, it wasn’t. Izzie’s hair and his parenting style—which he was all too aware lacked a feminine touch—was none of the lady vet’s business.
She shoved the turtle pool farther into the truck and slammed the tailgate with a bang.
Izzie plucked at Caroline’s shirt. “But how will I know if Turtle Mama is okay?”
As if she couldn’t help herself, Caroline brushed a stray ringlet out of Izzie’s face. “I’ll give you a call later and let you know how Turtle Mama—I mean the turtle—is doing. Okay?”
Her words were directed at Izzie, but she glanced at him. “I’ll get your cell number from Roland.”
“Roland?”
“Dr. Teague at VIMS.”
Weston shifted. “I’m assuming you’re a doctor, too.”
She dropped her gaze and stared at her coral-painted toes. “I don’t use the title much. Most people just call me Caroline.”
Why did this feel like he was pulling line on a hammerhead shark? “Caroline... What?”
Her gaze skipped to the top of the lighthouse before returning to him. “It’s Duer. Caroline Duer.”
Weston rocked on his heels. “Seth Duer’s absentee daughter?” His heart raced. “The daughter who abandoned her family for her career.”
Could he pick ’em or what? He scowled. Yet another instance of epic misjudgment on his part. Good thing he’d found out before it was too late. Too late for Izzie. And for him?
Tensing, he pulled Izzie closer and put distance between them and Caroline. The gesture wasn’t lost on the intelligent lady vet.
She swallowed. “I see my reputation precedes me.”
Then her face blanked like a hurricane shutter nailed over a window. “And yes. I’m that Caroline Duer.”
