Love's Stormy Gale (Heartsong Presents) (3 page)

“I don’t know, Dad. It’s not that simple.” She didn’t want to upset him by dredging up more of the past.

“You’ve got the ocean in your blood, Liv. No matter how far you run, you won’t be rid of it.” Her father stood and crossed the tiny kitchen. He chucked Olivia under her chin. “Okay, kid? You got the guts to handle this. I know it.”

She nodded absently and began to prepare supper. Did Jonathan have to muster up the nerve to pilot the sea? Or had he already conquered the gnawing fear?

Chapter 3

C
old, dark water swallowed them like a ravenous beast. The boat had rolled end over end, weighed down by the catch. Shouts. Tumbling equipment. Shattering glass as the wheelhouse flooded. Sky and water blended as one.

He had to get out. Jonathan gulped a deep breath before the room flooded. His boots weighed him down like bricks. His jacket hampered his arms like a straitjacket. He sensed rather than saw Robby flailing for freedom from their water-filled prison. Please God, let the distress beacon start working. Jonathan wiggled through a broken window. Searing pain ground down the length of his leg. He disregarded the cut; the water’s chill numbed the pain, but his brain fought the instinct to surrender to the darkness. Where was the surface? He blew a few precious bubbles, feeling them head upward. That way. Jonathan kicked harder.

Lungs burning, arms on fire, he broke surface.
God, please don’t let a roller take me under.
How long until help came? The storm raged on, and Jonathan begged that his friends would soon surface. Then came another wave. He didn’t know if he could hold on.
God, help me.
Where was Robby? Where were the others? He could see the angry water coming at him—

Moonlight streamed into his open bedroom window.

Jonathan kicked the sweat-soaked sheet off his body, then filled his lungs with air as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. A long scar on his right leg from the knee to the top of the thigh remained, a reminder of the night he’d nearly lost his life.

The ocean outside glistened, its surface spangled with diamonds of light from the full moon. The normally soothing view at the bottom of the hill didn’t help when he had nightmares. “God, I don’t know why I’m here. Two years now, and I haven’t done anything worth living for. Piloting a tour boat. I want my own boat, Lord. I want to be on the ocean. But I can’t do it alone. I can’t do it without Your help.” Jonathan raked his hand through his hair, and rubbed the stubble on his chin. He wouldn’t have had this dream again had Olivia not come home. Did she still have nightmares, or could she finally sleep?

To share a life with him, a woman would have to understand the life of a fisherman. Long hours without contact, fluctuating pay, no guarantee of the future. Not to mention the occupational hazards; commercial fishing had a high mortality rate compared to other jobs.

But when the fish came, all thoughts of the risks vanished. Jonathan couldn’t wait until he owned Pete Celucci’s boat. He’d save his earnings, find another boat and sell the first one eventually—then start building his own dream house. Even if he had to do it alone.

* * *

Olivia woke with a pounding headache. The scare with the boat’s engine yesterday reminded her why. Her selfishness scalded her conscience. Jonathan had lost his best friend, and had stayed in the place where he’d have to face constant reminders of all he’d lost. Olivia had played chicken and run away. Anger at her own cowardice caused her head to throb even more.

She rolled over and looked at her clock, bolted upright, then clutched her forehead. Another tension headache hit her, and she was late for work.

Terry was sporting a glare when she entered the office. His mustache fairly bristled. “We’ve delayed the morning trip for you.”

“Sorry.” Her head pounded.

“You look horrible.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Go ahead, get out there.”

Jonathan was performing the final checks on the boat as the passengers milled at the dock. “About time,” someone murmured as Olivia passed. Would today be better than yesterday? It would have to be.

Jonathan had retreated into his own shell, it seemed. Olivia noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, and a quick pang jabbed at her conscience. Had it been her fault? She wouldn’t ask. He kept his dark brown eyes focused on the horizon, then on the whales, but never at her for more than a split second.

No problem. It seemed they’d done more spatting with each other than anything since renewing their friendship. She needed to find more friends and move on with her life. She went to her church on Sunday mornings, although she had yet to attend any of the singles group activities. It wasn’t the same. People had paired off, gotten married and moved on. But there was Maggie and Todd’s upcoming Fourth of July party. She’d go to that. Even if Jonathan showed, Olivia could find other people to spend time with. She needed that new normal.

The morning dragged on. Over half the boat got sick, and Olivia’s stomach heaved once they were out about a dozen miles.

* * *

That night after supper, Olivia sat on the front porch swing with her father, talking about the day and drinking iced tea. Olivia drank the tea, and her father told her stories of the market.

“Still was a shame, what happened to Rob O’Leary Senior. He would rather have gone down with his boat than lose his mind a little at a time.” Her dad puffed on his pipe, an old habit not yet relinquished despite Olivia’s expressed concern. She bit her lip as the smoke curled around their heads. Soon the pungent aroma would drive her inside.

“I wish you’d told me.” Olivia sighed. “Poor Frances, all alone. She must blame me even more.”

Dad puffed another small cloud of smoke, then returned the sigh. “Didn’t want to bring it up. I didn’t know if you were ever moving back home.” He punctuated the statement with a cough.

“I see.” Why had it taken her this long? Olivia bit her lip before she replied. “Robby and I weren’t trying to hurt her feelings by wanting our own home.”

“Course not. You wanted your own nest. Better that way anyhow. Rob used to complain about Frances’s heavy-handed ways ’til we begged him to stow it.”

“Oh.” She’d been right, then, when she told Robby years ago that his mom would run their lives if they moved in with her. Robby agreed, though reluctantly, she recalled. If they married and lived with his parents until Olivia finished her education, Frances would be cooking and cleaning for them all. Probably even laying out Robby’s fishing clothes for him, and trotting behind Olivia to point out her multiple shortcomings.

“Anyhow...what’s done is done.” Her father puffed.

Olivia planted a kiss on her father’s forehead. “I’ll get started on the dishes.”

He grinned, clenching the pipe between his teeth. “Smoke getting to you?”

She nodded as she went inside, the screen door smacking closed behind her. No use arguing or pleading with him. She’d even shown her dad articles about the dangers of pipe smoke, but he had only waved them off. Olivia gave up.

The dishwasher hummed at last. Olivia could hear the evening news report above the noise of the machine. Dad would fall asleep again, his half-read newspaper spread on his chest, his reading glasses still on his nose.

She passed through the living room on her way up the stairs. Sure enough, Dad had reclined fully in the ancient recliner, his face pointing up at the ceiling, mouth open in a snore. If he didn’t wake himself up and turn in on his own later, she’d make sure the TV was turned off and all secured for the night.

The fourth step creaked on the flight of stairs as it always had. Olivia realized she’d enjoyed the familiar sounds of the old house since she’d been home. A sensation of nostalgia wrapped itself around her. Dad sawed his logs downstairs, and she was heading up to do her homework.

She entered her bedroom and awoke her hibernating laptop. No doubt her email had piled up. She couldn’t remember if she’d checked it since she’d been home. Only a few personal emails greeted her when she opened the in-box. The rest disappeared with a few clicks of the mouse.

Olivia typed in the web address for the Cetacean Institute of Cape Ann. The institute had a slick website. If she signed on permanently with the group, she would have a chance at a paying research position. Plus, they’d help with graduate school tuition reimbursement, possibly as soon as this fall.

She glanced at the graduate school application on the desk. If she reapplied, her postgraduate credits would still be good, even with interrupting her studies to move away to teach. Within three years, she could be Dr. Olivia Shea, if she worked hard enough. Fear wouldn’t keep her from finishing what she’d started.

What would Jonathan think of her dream? Did he have any aspirations of his own? She knew the rumor that he was a jinx, the sole survivor of an ill-fated voyage. Would he try to fish again? An icy prickle skittered down her spine at the thought.

* * *

Olivia squeezed her car into the last available spot on the grassy shoulder across the road from Maggie and Todd Donovan’s house, which was nestled in a secluded cove. The Atlantic shimmered in the distance. According to Maggie, there was a small beach a short walk from the house. Her parents had given them the property as a wedding gift. Nice parents.

She spotted Jonathan’s weathered Jeep in the driveway. Only then did she realize she would be spending the whole day with him, without their work as a distraction. Olivia inhaled slowly, leaning against the headrest. She reminded herself of her resolve to put the past behind. Plus, judging from the dozen or so vehicles clustered on the property, she shouldn’t have trouble mixing with the old crowd from church and making some new connections.

Armed with a bowl of potato salad as her contribution to the party, Olivia locked her car and headed up the sidewalk.

“C’mon in!” Todd held the front door open. “Maggie’s on the patio setting out the food. Hope you brought your appetite!”

“Sure did.”

An explosion of laughter caused Olivia to stand on tiptoe and glance over Todd’s shoulder.

“Water balloons,” he explained. “One of the college kids brought them.”

Olivia followed Todd through the spacious foyer to the large kitchen and entertaining area. One wall with floor-to-ceiling glass windows faced the ocean. Outside on the patio, guests clustered around a long table. Olivia hesitated before joining the group. Todd had already grabbed the tongs for the grill, while she hung back and watched.

Why did she feel like it was the first day of school? She knew most of these people. Yet she hadn’t kept in touch with any of them, except for Maggie.

Jonathan’s curly hair caught her eye. She saw him laugh, his smile lending warmth to the day. Then he met her eyes through the window. Was it her imagination, or did the grin slightly fade?

The potato salad. Olivia goaded herself out onto the patio and to the food table. She nudged aside a bowl of macaroni salad to make room for her bowl. After accepting a cold soda from Todd, she went inside. If Jonathan wanted to talk to her, he knew she was around.

She immediately chided herself for her attitude. “Don’t be ugly, Liv,” she mumbled under her breath. “You
will
talk to him when you go outside again. Be civil.”

“Talking to yourself again?” Maggie grinned as she sprinkled seasoning on the hamburgers.

“I’ve been told it’s a sign of genius.”

“Who are you getting up the nerve to talk to? I could introduce you to this guy I know...”

Olivia groaned and shook her head. “No setups here. Don’t do me any favors.” The last thing she’d ever try would be going on a blind date.

“Really. He’s a nice guy, ambitious, loves the Lord and he’s got that George Clooney look going on. As in a young George Clooney.”

Olivia grinned at the description. “So where is Mr. Perfect, then?”

“He’s the one wearing the Patriots T-shirt.”

“Where?”

“Follow me, oh, shortsighted one.” Maggie picked up the tray of burgers and headed back to the patio.

They met Todd at the grill. Liv glanced at a group of men talking, then saw the football team logo on Jonathan’s shirt. Surely he wasn’t the only man in a Pats’ shirt?

“Ha. Very funny, Maggie.” Olivia’s face flamed.

“Oh, but I’m quite serious. Am I right, Todd?” Maggie rubbed Todd’s arm.

“Quite right, babe.” He hooked an arm around Maggie’s waist and gave her a peck on the lips.

Olivia snorted. “That’s just great. It’s a conspiracy. Jonathan and I have too much history to be a couple.”

“But you both understand each other so well.” Maggie sounded hopeful. “I think you should give each other some time and a chance.”

Olivia grabbed a paper plate and smiled. “I’m going to get a quick bite.” She stuffed aside the notion of anything beyond friendship with Jonathan.

* * *

Jonathan half listened to a friend talking about his latest trip to Fenway Park for a Red Sox game. Box seats, from his boss, lucky guy. But Olivia had been on Jonathan’s mind from the moment he’d seen her arrive, hugging a bowl of what he hoped was potato salad.

But she hadn’t greeted him, even though they’d made eye contact right away. He saw Kristi Chamberlain chat with Olivia, then show off her engagement ring. That was one woman he was glad to see get engaged. Evidently she’d gotten over his refusals when she’d asked him out “just for coffee, Jon.” When he dated, he wanted to be the one to do the asking. Call him traditional or old-fashioned, but that was the way he liked to date. Now it bordered on ridiculous, between people following each other around online via Facebook, Twitter and such. Whatever happened to a real conversation?

Now Olivia stood with hands on hips, an attractive flush coloring her pretty face. Maggie and Todd were laughing. Jonathan wondered what they’d said to cause such a reaction. Olivia muttered something, then moved back to the food table and grabbed a plate.

Some of the guys were heading down to check out the volleyball game, but just then, Jonathan craved potato salad. Time to check out exactly what was in the bowl that Olivia had brought.

A smile replaced the scowl on Olivia’s face as he approached the food table. “Hi.” She tapped the edge of a plastic bowl. “I made potato salad.”

His mouth watered. “I hoped you did.” Jonathan heaped two spoonfuls of potato salad on a fresh paper plate. “I’m going to see if those ribs on the grill are done. Care to join me?”

“Sure.”

So far so good. Light conversation and banter flowed around them, but Jonathan noticed Olivia darting quick glances at the other guests. She hadn’t approached any of the others, while Jonathan greeted several friends on their trip to the grill. The water balloon enthusiasts were busy drying off.