Summer's Child (14 page)

“Well, I’m trying to, anyway,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I met with the police detective who covered Shelly’s case this afternoon.” He caught Daria’s dark look, and knew he probably shouldn’t talk about this with her present. She still disapproved, but it was hard for him to keep quiet about the topic when it was so much on his mind, and Ellen had given him the invitation to speak.

“What did he say?” Grace asked. “What were the police able to find out back then?”

The waitress brought their desserts, and Rory leaned back to let her set his chocolate mousse on the table in front of him. Grace let go of his hand then, and took a sip from her water glass.

“Not a whole lot, I’m afraid.” Rory looked apologetically at Shelly. “The detective I spoke with thinks that Shelly’s mother was probably one of two teenage girls who had been reported missing at that time and who were never found.”

“It seems strange that no one saw what happened on the beach that morning,” Grace said. “Aren’t people usually out early to beach-comb or watch the sunrise?”

“There’d been a huge storm the day before,” Daria said. “No one had been on the beach for at least twenty-four hours. I think I was the first person out there. Or, at least, the second.”

Ted leaned toward Rory, his soft facial features suddenly creased with concern. “Chloe and Daria think you should leave the past alone,” he said quietly, obviously not wanting Shelly to hear. “You shouldn’t disrupt Shelly’s life.”

Ellen dismissed her husband with a wave of her hand. “Let Rory find out for himself that it’s pointless,” she said. “The police did a thorough investigation back when Shelly was found and they didn’t come up with a thing. Nobody is going to find anything twenty-some years later.” She looked at Rory, false contrition in her eyes. “Sorry, Rory. I just think you’re on a wild-goose chase.”

“Could be,” he admitted, more to ease the tension than to agree with her.

A pager beeped on the other side of the deck, and although the sound was barely audible where they were sitting, Daria jumped. She looked across the deck, and Rory saw her friend, Mike, raise a small cell phone to his ear. Daria pretended to return her attention to her dessert, but Rory knew she was still focused on Mike, and he wondered if she was interested in him as more than a “pal.”

Mike got up from his table and walked directly across the deck to Daria. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned close to her ear, but he spoke loudly enough to be heard across the table. “There’s an accident on 158, around milepost 8,” he said. “Two cars and a bicycle. Come with me.”

Daria shook her head.

“We’re short, Daria,” Mike sounded insistent. The skin on Daria’s shoulders was white from the pressure of his fingertips. “Please,” he said. “We need you.”

She shook her head wordlessly, her gaze on her key-lime pie, and Mike straightened up and left the restaurant. No one else had stopped talking, and a moment later, Daria raised her head again, smiling, joining in the conversation once more. Everyone chattered as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred, and Rory guessed he was the only person at the table to notice the tears in Daria’s eyes.

D
ARIA PULLED INTO THE
S
EA
S
HANTY DRIVEWAY AROUND
ten that night, a good hour after leaving the restaurant. She’d sent Shelly home with Ellen and Ted and driven to milepost 8 and the scene of the fiery, deadly accident. She couldn’t say what drew her there. Perhaps she thought she would be able to help, but that was not the case. Oh, they needed her help, all right. But she’d merely lurked around the edge of the scene, just like the other curious onlookers, unable to make herself walk over to the ambulance to help her former EMTs deal with the havoc. The sense of being frozen in place, concealed by darkness, made her feel cowardly and useless, and she’d driven home in tears.

Getting out of her car, she was surprised to see Rory sitting alone on the front steps of the Sea Shanty. Her heart filled at the sight of him. She’d figured he would still be with Grace. He’d been so solicitous of her during dinner. Walking toward him, she hoped it was too dark for him to tell she’d been crying.

“Hi there,” she said, making her voice light and cheerful. She sat down next to him. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you to get home,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, pleased. “Well, here I am.”

“Ellen said you went to check on that accident,” he said.

“Yeah, I did. One car swerved to avoid a cyclist and crashed into another car. The cyclist was hit, anyway. I think someone in one of the cars was killed. Both cars were on fire.” She recounted the scene in a flat tone to avoid feeling anything as she spoke.

Rory winced. “Sounds horrible,” he said.

“It was.” She knew she’d have another of her nightmares that night. Even though she’d hung back, even though she was not even certain if the cyclist was male or female, she knew the pilot would be back to haunt her.

“I really admire you,” Rory said. “I can’t imagine doing that sort of work. And the fact that you do it on a volunteer basis makes it even more impressive.”

“
Did
it,” she said. She didn’t deserve the credit he was giving her. “I wasn’t there to help. I only watched.”

“I don’t understand,” Rory said. “It was obvious you were upset when your friend, Mike, tried to persuade you to go with him. I figured you and he had some sort of…” His voice trailed off.

It took her a moment to understand, and she laughed. “Mike? No. Not at all.”

“Then what was holding you back?” he asked. “And if you went over to the accident, why didn’t you help?”

“It’s a long story,” she said. “And not very interesting.” She needed a change of topic. “So, how was your evening?” she asked.

Rory hesitated, as if deciding whether to allow her this abrupt switch in the conversation. Then he gave in.

“Well, I have to say I don’t really understand Grace,” he said. “She seems to want to be with me, yet she doesn’t seem particularly interested in me…in a romantic sense, if you know what I mean.”

Daria tried to mask her relief. “No, I’m not sure what you mean.” She wanted to hear more.

“Well, she seems pleased when I call her. She’s pleased when I ask her to do things with me. But she doesn’t…I don’t get the impression she wants to be in a relationship. Not with me, at any rate. Tonight at dinner was the first time I’ve even held her hand.”

“You’re kidding,” Daria said.

“No, I’m not. And when I brought her back to Poll-Rory, she darted out of the car before I could attempt to…get any closer. Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”

“Not really,” Daria said. What she
did
think was that Grace was completely out of her mind. “Her marriage just ended. She probably needs some time to get used to the idea of being with someone else.”

“Maybe,” Rory said. “It’s just not what I’m used to. Women usually come on to me. I don’t mean that as a brag. I know it’s because of my celebrity, not necessarily because of who I am as a person. But that just makes Grace more interesting to me. She’s so…fragile. Did you pick that up?”

She had, indeed. She’d noticed a tremor in Grace’s hands, and a couple of times, in her voice, as well. It was the first time she’d really seen Grace up close, and she was truly beautiful, in a pale sort of way.

“Yes, I did, Mr. Caretaker,” she said. “Did you ever ask her about her illness?”

“No. I figure she’ll tell me when she’s ready to.”

“You two need to talk,” she said. “It doesn’t sound like there’s much communication going on between you.”

Rory didn’t answer. He looked down at his hands, as if studying them in the Sea Shanty’s porch light. Daria wanted to touch one of them, to slip her fingertips beneath his palm and trace a line up his wrist.

“Zack seemed to hit it off with Shelly,” Rory said suddenly.

“He did,” Daria agreed.

“Shelly was so good with him,” Rory said. “As soon as we got home, though, he and Kara took off for the miniature-golf course.” He shook his head. “The two of them worry me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t now. Kara looks a little fast to me.”

Daria laughed. “What does a fast girl look like?” she asked.

“Oh, you know. The way she dresses. The pierced belly button. Too much blond in her hair. Too much eye makeup.”

“Do you think Zack is still a virgin?”

Rory looked at her with wide-eyed disbelief. “Of course,” he said. “He’s only fifteen. Give me a break.”

“Fifteen-year-olds are a lot different than when we were kids,” Daria said.

Rory said nothing.

“Have you talked to him about it?” Daria asked. “I mean, do you ever have frank, father-son talks?”

“I wish.” Rory groaned, lowering his head to his hands. “I guess I need to give him the sex-and-responsibility talk. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to get into that yet. He and I can’t even talk about what to have for dinner, much less sex.”

“You probably need to talk with him while you’re doing some activity together. You know how men are more comfortable relating through sports or whatever.”

“Is that how you are, since you hang out with guys all the time?”

“I
am
still a female,” she said, thoroughly insulted.

He smiled at her. “I’ve noticed that,” he said. “Especially tonight at the restaurant. You clean up good.”

“Thanks,” she said wryly. She figured that might be the best compliment she would get out of him.

“You raised Shelly,” Rory said. “Was she ever rebellious? Did you have any problems with her when she was Zack’s age?”

“Shelly was easy,” Daria said. “The only time she and I ever butted heads was when I made her break up with those guys several years ago. She screamed at me. She’d cry and mope. But that was about it for Shelly’s rebellion.”

Headlights turned into the cul-de-sac, and they watched a car approach the Sea Shanty.

“It’s Chloe,” Daria said. “She must have stayed late at St. Esther’s.”

Chloe pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. Daria and Rory watched her approach the porch steps, and she stopped in surprise at finding them there.

“Oh, hi,” she said. Her face was unsmiling, and Daria knew that was due to Rory’s presence. Chloe wished Rory had stayed in California. But she took a seat on the steps next to Daria, anyway, and worked at a smile. “How was dinner?” she asked.

“Great,” said Rory. “Some terrific restaurants have opened up here in the last twenty years.”

“Yup,” Chloe agreed. “You won’t go hungry.”

Chloe’s voice was flat, and Daria could almost feel her sister’s discomfort. It was more than Rory that was upsetting her. Daria put her hand on Chloe’s arm.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, but Chloe simply squeezed her hand in reassurance.

Rory didn’t seem to notice Chloe’s distress. “I know you’re not thrilled with me pursuing this,” he said to her, “but you’re an important part of Shelly’s life, and I’d really like to get your opinion of how she ended up on the beach way back when.”

Daria cringed at Rory’s timing. He didn’t realize how much Chloe resented his intrusion on their lives.

Chloe leaned across Daria to rest her hand on Rory’s knee. She looked at him intently, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. “Rory, it just doesn’t matter how Shelly turned
up on the beach,” she said. “I know you don’t understand. I know it doesn’t fit in with your plans for your show. I know you want the answer to be something dramatic, something you can uncover and expose. But it just isn’t important. Shelly was our gift from the sea. There’s nothing more we need to know.”

Chloe stood up. She squeezed Daria’s shoulder. “Good night, you two,” she said. She stepped onto the screened porch and disappeared inside the cottage.

“Ouch,” Rory said once she had gone. “I don’t think Chloe is very fond of me.”

“It’s not just you,” Daria said. “It’s true she’s upset that you’re probing into Shelly’s life, but she seems withdrawn lately. I’m not certain what’s going on with her.”

“I’m sure I’m not helping,” Rory said.

“Well, she thinks you’re exploiting Shelly.”

“Is that what you think, too?” Rory asked.

“I think your intentions are honorable,” Daria said, “but I’m afraid your prying might do more harm than good.”

Rory was quiet a moment, and when he finally spoke there was exasperation in his voice. “But Shelly, herself, wants me to—”

“Shelly has lousy judgment, Rory,” Daria said. How many times did he have to hear that? She hesitated a moment, then the words slipped out of her mouth as though they had a will of their own. “Do you want to know why I’m not doing EMT work these days?” she asked. “Do you want to know the truth?”

He said nothing, just looked at her, puzzled and waiting, and Daria shivered. The thought of telling him was both frightening and seductive.

Drawing in a breath, she pressed her clammy palms together and began to speak.

“A few months ago, I was working on a construction job
at an old cottage near the beach, about half a mile from here,” she said. “Pete was working with me, along with Andy Kramer, and this other guy, George. Andy and I were in the house, and Pete and George were outside. Pete suddenly came running into the house, yelling that there was a plane down in the water.”

She remembered running to the front door of the house to look out toward the beach. From where she’d stood, she had not been able to see the downed plane, only a few people running across the sand. She’d taken off her tool belt and dropped it on the floor as she headed out the door, Andy and George close on her heels.

Daria wasn’t able to see the plane until she reached the squat hill of sand marking the start of the beach. Even then, it had been hard to make out the plane’s shape or size. The sun was low in the sky behind her, reflecting off the water in sharp beams of blinding light.

Pete, already halfway to the water, turned to wave at them. “It’s an air pig!” he shouted.

Good
, Daria thought as she ran after him. If the pontoons weren’t damaged, they would keep the plane afloat. Otherwise, there was very little chance of recovering anyone alive.

People were gathering on the beach, most of them in street clothes, shivering as the evening air grew cooler. They pointed toward the plane, speaking to one another in excited voices. She and Andy pushed through the growing crowd. “Did anyone call 911?” Daria called out.

Several people shouted that they had.

“I called from my cell phone,” a man standing near Daria said.

“How long ago?” she asked.

“Just a few minutes,” the man said. “Right after the plane hit the water. It just dropped out of the sky. I thought—”

Daria didn’t wait to hear more. She ran up to Pete, who was standing at the water’s edge, squinting against the reflected sunlight as he stared at the plane.

“Ocean Rescue should be here in a few minutes,” she said. Ocean Rescue would have a boat. Without a boat, there was little they could do.

“We can’t wait a few minutes,” Pete said as he stripped off his shirt. “It looks like one of the pontoons is damaged.”

Daria looked again at the plane, and this time she could see it was listing to one side. Someone—she couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman—was pounding against one of the side windows, trying to get out.

“You can’t go out there,” Daria said, although she was thinking of going herself. The plane was not out that far, and she and Pete were both good swimmers. “What if there’s fuel in the water?”

“I’m not going to stand here and watch—”

“Hey! We’ve got a boat!”

Daria turned to see two boys dragging a boat across the sand by a rope. The boat was little more than a dinghy, but it would have to do until something more substantial came along.

“Great!” Pete said. He ran up to the boys, grabbed the rope from their hands and began tugging the boat toward the water. The tattooed muscles in his arms did not even appear to strain with the effort.

Andy and Daria helped him drag the boat into the water, and Daria was about to climb in when she saw the look of longing in Andy’s eyes. He wanted to help; he wanted to save lives.

“Come with us,” she said. “We can use an extra pair of hands out there.”

Andy climbed into the boat and picked up the oars. “I’ll
row,” he said, and he began pulling against the water. Although he was slender, he was strong, and the craft cut easily through the breakers, heading toward the plane.

Daria looked back toward the beach to see if any of the rescue vehicles had arrived, but she could see only the thickening crowd of people—and Shelly. Shelly stood out from everyone else because of her height, her distinctive blond hair and the assertive way she pushed through the throng toward the water. She was wearing her wraparound skirt, and Daria watched as she untied it and let it fall onto the sand, then walked into the water. She was going to swim out to them!

“Shelly!” Daria called to her. “Don’t come out! It’s too cold. There could be a fuel spill!”

She knew Shelly couldn’t hear her; the crackling of the waves drowned out every word. Pete heard her, though, and he looked behind them to see why she was yelling.

“Shelly’s in the water,” Daria called to him.

“What’s she doing out there?” Andy asked.