Molly spent a restless night, alternately waking and sleeping. Once when she woke, she heard Eric moving around the cabin. It sounded as if he was getting a drink from the fridge. Toward morning, she moved toward him, wanting the comfort of his warm body, but he wasn’t there. Later, she heard the pump switch on and knew he was taking a shower. When she woke for good, she lay gazing up at the watery reflections on the ceiling and wondering what would happen when she returned to Chicago. How long would it take before she stopped expecting Eric to be there in the night? Would she immediately get back into the groove of eating alone, sleeping alone, going places alone?
Finally, around six-thirty, she rose and wrapped her robe around her before going up on deck. She’d thought that it was too early for Eric, but he was there before her. He didn’t look as if he’d slept any better than she had; his beard was bristly, and deep purplish circles rimmed his lower eyelids.
He smiled and handed her a cup. “I thought you’d be up early. I couldn’t sleep last night, either.”
She accepted the coffee and sat beside him, drawing her feet up under her. During the night, a dank fog had settled over the marina, and a pale scrim of mist swirled around the boats. Molly shivered even in her thick velour robe. “I guess I didn’t want to be alone as much as I thought,” she admitted. The warm steam rising from the cup carried with it the full, fragrant smell of coffee, making her feel better already.
“We can fix that tonight,” he said. He placed his arm across the back of the seat and caressed her shoulder. His hand was warm, gentle.
She took heart from his smile. “What’s our plan for today?”
“Since you asked, can you look after Phoebe? I have to drive to Jacksonville to get the engine part. Micki said I can take the van as long as I deliver some anchor chain to a customer along the way, and I figure that’s faster than waiting for the part to arrive here in Greensea Springs.”
“Phoebe and I can work on the Barbie clothes after she finishes her school assignments. Then, while you’re repairing the engine this afternoon, we could visit the Farrells.”
“That’s cool.” He drained his coffee. “I’m going to cook breakfast for all of us. Bacon or sausage with your eggs?”
“Bacon. I like the way you do it.” Instead of frying, Eric broiled bacon, which made it crispier and less greasy.
“Three breakfasts, coming up,” he said. They heard Phoebe opening the door of her small stateroom, and Eric cadged a stealthy kiss before his daughter could climb up the ladder. Molly grinned at him as he disappeared below.
Yes, how would she ever accustom herself to life without Eric? Somehow she couldn’t imagine such a thing.
MOLLY CALLED HER GRANDFATHER from the laundry room, where she was overseeing the washing of Phoebe’s clothes while Phoebe, sitting in the nearby bougainvillea arbor with her head bent over a textbook, worked on her reading lesson.
“Hi, Grandpa,” Molly said with forced cheeriness when Emmett picked up the phone.
“M-Molly Kate, is that you?”
“Yes, and I’m phoning early in the day because I’m concerned about you.”
Emmett cleared his throat. His voice wasn’t hearty by any means. In fact, he sounded more frail than she’d ever heard him.
“No need to worry, Molly. I’ll be out of this looney bin in a few days, and when I am, we’re all going sailing on Fiona again. You, me, Patrick and Brianne, like old times.”
“That’s right. Eric is going to get the engine part today—did he mention that? The pump arrived in Jacksonville this morning.”
“No, but that’s good news. How long before you arrive in Fort Lauderdale?”
“Less than a week, probably.”
“Good, Molly.” He hesitated as if gathering his thoughts. “Molly, dear, how did you get back to Florida? You were here last night. Did you catch a plane in the middle of the night?”
Molly digested his words as she watched the clothes spin around and around in the dryer. “Why, no, Grandpa. I’ve been right here in Greensea Springs all along. Brianne arrived in Minneapolis last night. She caught a flight from Chicago after her plane from Australia landed at O’Hare.” Had he confused his only granddaughters? Except for red hair, she and Brianne looked nothing alike. Her sister was short, only five-two. Brianne had freckles and her eyes were brown.
“Your sister was here?” Her grandfather stumbled over the words and began to cough.
“She’s meeting with your doctor this morning. Maybe that’s why you haven’t seen her today.”
“She’ll be back? She won’t be returning to the Outback?”
“Brianne is home for the foreseeable future, Grandpa. You behave yourself and don’t give her a hard time.”
“She should find a guy and settle down. You, too, Molly Kate. Marriage between two like souls is the greatest gift you’ll ever know. My Fiona and I were married for fifty years, and I wouldn’t be the man I am today if not for her gentle guidance and support. Through thick and thin—as she used to say, through sick and sin. Though there was no sin on either part, mind you. I want to see you happily settled with someone you love. Sharing experiences with a spouse is the only way to find real happiness.”
It was on the tip of Molly’s tongue to inform him that she’d never found a person with whom such a relationship would be remotely possible, but she realized with a jolt that this was no longer true now that Eric was a part of her life.
“Does your silence mean that you agree with an old man’s ramblings, Molly Kate?”
“Perhaps,” she managed to say.
Emmett’s voice was kind as he responded. “I’ve had a wonderful life with a lot of love in it,” he said. “I wish the same for you.”
“Thank you, Grandpa,” she replied, a lump in her throat. “Would you mind if I called you later today? I miss you so much.”
“Why not. There’s nothing else to do around here.” He sounded as if he had rallied.
“You’ll have Brianne nearby. That should make it more interesting,” she said, blinking tears from her eyes. She’d always been the closest of any of them to their grandfather, and it pained her that she couldn’t be with him when he was so sick.
“Let’s hope so. Goodbye, Molly Kate. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Get well soon, and we’ll be sailing together before long.”
After she hung up, she sat in the webbed lawn chair provided by the management and stared at the washing machine, which was clicking off after the final rinse. She was concerned about Emmett and his mistaking Brianne for her. His confusion about everyday events seemed to grow every time she talked with him.
Well, Brianne would have phoned if she was through talking with Dr. Talwani. Molly could do nothing but wait.
“Phoebe, how is your lesson coming along?” she called.
“I’m almost finished. Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be ready for lunch. What can we have?”
“Peanut butter and jelly?” Molly had learned through experience: when in doubt, peanut butter and jelly was the way to go.
“That’s good. I have a sand wish I need to make today,” Phoebe replied before bending over her book again.
Molly herself had some she wanted to make. It might not help to wish for her grandfather’s improved health on a peanut butter sandwich, but it probably wouldn’t hurt, either.
ERIC IDLED THROUGH the drive-in window at a burger place just off I-95 after picking up the fuel injection pump for Fiona. He ordered a burger, engaged in the usual crackling exchange of words with the girl at the register, neither of them understanding what the other was saying, and as a result ended up with no fries, even though he’d ordered the large size. For a few seconds he considered driving through again, but decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. While waiting for traffic at the stoplight, he unwrapped the burger and ate it on the way back to Greensea Springs.
This time away from Molly was a good chance to think things over, and the main thing on his mind was that after he’d installed the part, they’d head for Fort Lauderdale. Assuming good weather, the trip might take five days, six at the most. Then Molly would catch a flight out. She was eager to be with Emmett and wouldn’t delay her departure. In his mind’s eye he visualized Phoebe crying as Molly said goodbye. He would be stoic, calm.
No. He’d be in agony over losing the only other woman in the world aside from Heather who had ever meant anything to him.
For a few minutes, he allowed himself to indulge in daydreams about how it might be if Molly didn’t have a sick grandfather and a job that needed tending. He could get work on a boat in the Virgin Islands; tourists intent on island-hopping often required a captain. Lots of times, couples worked on yachts where the man sailed the boat and the woman cooked. Scratch that one—Molly, though trying valiantly and improving daily, didn’t cook with enough skill for them to pull that one off. Besides, they would have Phoebe in tow, and delightful though his daughter was, he’d be the first to admit that people wealthy enough to own their own yachts usually didn’t enjoy sharing their limited space with kids.
Perhaps the three of them could take up residence on some remote Caribbean island where they’d farm pineapples and plantains, live in a palm-thatched hut and play all day on the beach. He’d have plenty of time to spend with Phoebe, which meant that they could speed ahead with her home schooling. However, his daughter needed other children; he understood this now that he’d seen her in action with the Farrell kids. And Molly wouldn’t take to living in the middle of nowhere with little intellectual stimulation. He wouldn’t be able to watch Jeopardy!, either.
So maybe he and Molly could buy their own boat. A catamaran, perhaps, that didn’t draw much water, which meant that they’d be able to sail right up to those beautiful white beaches in the Bahamas. The ocean would provide most of their sustenance; they’d eat fish and lobster. And where would they get enough money to buy such a boat? His paltry savings didn’t amount to much. As for borrowing, his credit rating probably wasn’t even on the books anymore. Molly had more money than he did, but he was too proud by far to let her buy the boat or own a bigger share of it than he did.
Speaking of which, what made him think Molly Kate McBryde would stick by him for the long haul, anyhow? Again he asked himself, what did he have to offer her? He had no job, no real money, no good prospects. All he had was his love for her and a seven-and-a-half-year-old child.
He loved Molly. He could picture the two of them together for the rest of their lives. But ask her to marry him? No way. He wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she laughed in his face.
And he wouldn’t blame her if she did. He wasn’t up to her speed, and he knew it. Had known it from the beginning. So maybe the best thing to do was to let this thing play itself out to its natural end and say “so long.” That was a depressing thought, and he felt glum all the way back to the marina.
Once there, he busied himself with Fiona’s engine. Now that he had the engine part, repair would be a snap. They’d soon be on their way. This should have cheered him, but it didn’t.
“DOES THAT MEAN you’ll be leaving?” Dee asked Molly in resignation. Eric was back on Fiona installing the new part, and Molly and Phoebe were visiting the Farrells.
Somberly, Molly nodded. “It’ll be a couple of days, most likely.” She tried to concentrate on hemming the tiny troll costume that Dee was making for the puppets, but it was difficult when out of the corner of her eye she could see Phoebe playing so happily with Corduroy and Lexie in the backyard. They had built a fort out of an old cardboard refrigerator box, and Lexie, wearing a gilt-paper crown on her head, was cheering on Corduroy and Phoebe, who were jousting. They were riding old brooms, which served as their horses, and their lances were foam noodles, the kind kids play with in the swimming pool.
“I wish we didn’t have to go,” Molly said unhappily. “It will break Phoebe’s heart.”
Dee, after lifting the baby out of her high chair, came to the window to watch the kids. “Lexie and Corduroy will miss her. You’ll have to bring Phoebe back to visit.” She colored quickly and attempted to cover up her gaffe. “I mean,” she said, “it would be fun if you could.”
“Perhaps Eric can,” Molly said, her spirits taking a dive. Merely thinking about being separated from Phoebe and Eric made her sad.
Dee sat beside her on the window seat and smoothed Jada’s dress. “I keep forgetting that you’re not Phoebe’s mother. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
Molly tossed aside the costume and got up to get a glass of water from the refrigerator. “You didn’t. I realize it must seem strange to people that we’re not really a family. I mean, people see us together all the time. It’s—it’s hard to believe that we only met a few weeks ago when—when—” It was no use. She couldn’t hide her anguish from Dee, her best friend here. She set the half-full glass carefully on the counter and buried her face in her hands. The tears wouldn’t stop; they stung her eyes, dribbled through her fingers, splashed on the tile floor.
Dee settled Jada in the playpen and rushed to give Molly a hug. “Molly, I’m sorry,” she said soothingly. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s—it’s that I love him. And I love Phoebe. I can’t imagine going back to Chicago and resuming a life that seems cold and lonely by comparison. I thought I was happy, Dee, but maybe I wasn’t.”
“Sometimes,” Dee said softly, “we get a wake-up call. Maybe getting stranded in Greensea Springs was yours.”
Molly dried her eyes. “Wake-up call? This is more like a fire alarm. What am I going to do?”
Dee picked up her glass and filled it. “You’re going to have a glass of water, and you’re going to talk it out. You’ll feel better afterward, I promise.” She led Molly back to the window seat and planted the glass in her hands. Then she handed Jada a teething biscuit and sat down. “I’m all ears,” she said. “Suppose you tell me why you can’t stay with Eric and Phoebe.”
“It’s complicated,” Molly said distractedly. In the backyard, Corduroy had evidently bested Phoebe at jousting, and Lexie was rewarding him with a garland made of oak leaves. Phoebe was writhing on the ground, groaning realistically but stopping occasionally to offer advice about how Corduroy could keep his new headgear from falling over one eye.
“Never mind that it’s complicated,” Dee advised. “I’m here to listen.”
Molly summoned her thoughts and attempted to bring some order to them so she could relate them coherently.
“In the first place,” she told Dee, “he doesn’t know I love him.”
“Fine. So tell him. Next?”
“You think it’s that simple?” Molly asked incredulously.
“Nothing is ever simple, but you’ve got to start somewhere.”
She hadn’t wanted Eric to make such a declaration to her because once he stated that he loved her, she’d be required to act on the information. She’d have to say that she loved him, too, or that she didn’t. Either answer would kick over a whole can of worms in their relationship. She’d never once thought about saying the words first.
She sprang up from the window seat. “Dee, you’re brilliant,” she said.
“But—”
“No, I mean it. I’ll talk to him about it tonight.”
“Talk to him? Why don’t you create a setting—candles, moonlight, Phoebe in bed asleep—before you spring this on him?”
“Like I said, you’re brilliant. I’ll stop and buy candles on the way home.”
Dee went to a nearby drawer. “I’ll give you some. You can have flowers from the camellia bush in the backyard. Let me know how it goes.”
“I will,” Molly said. She was already planning to stop and buy something special for dinner.
BACK ON FIONA, Eric was finishing up for the day, wiping his greasy hands on a rag, when Micki called to him from the dock.
“Eric! It’s important.”
He hurried up the ladder. The concerned expression on Micki’s round face was punctuated by a frown. “You have a phone call in the office. She says it’s an emergency.”
He tossed the rag aside. “Who is it?” he asked. Myriad possibilities flitted through his mind—his brother’s wife’s pregnancy, his friend Steve washing overboard on his trawler? Worse yet, something to do with Phoebe?
Micki immediately set his mind at ease on that count. “She said her name’s Brianne. She sounded as if she had been crying.”
Eric trotted up the dock slightly ahead of Micki, who was forced to double-time to keep pace. “That’s Molly’s sister’s name. I’ve never met her.” A sense of dread washed over him.
Eric burst through the office door and grabbed the phone up from the counter.
“Eric here,” he said brusquely.
“Eric, this is Brianne McBryde, Molly’s sister.”
“Yes,” he said. Emotion blocked his airway, made it difficult to breathe.
“I have bad news, and I didn’t want to call Molly on her cell phone, since I don’t know where she is at the moment or what she’s doing,” Brianne began.
“It’s Emmett, isn’t it?” He tried to temper his alarm, soften his tone.
“Yes. He—he died around four o’clock—” Brianne’s voice broke, and he heard a rustle, as if she were brushing a tear from her cheek.
Eric didn’t speak for a moment. He hadn’t expected this. He didn’t think Molly had either, at least not so soon after she last spoke with her grandfather.
“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Please, Eric, could you tell Molly for me? I have to phone our brother in Ireland, and I could call her afterward, but this is very difficult for me, as I’m sure you know.”
“Brianne, I’ll tell her. She’ll be devastated.”
“They were close. Grandpa was special to all of us, but he and Molly seemed to be on the same wavelength. She—and my brother and I—will miss him.”
“I will, too. I got to know him when he came to stay on the boat while I did some repairs. He was a great guy, a true gentleman, an accomplished raconteur.”
“Yes, he certainly was. Thank you for your kind words, and thanks in advance for breaking the news to Molly. I’ll talk to her later about arrangements. Right now I’m trying to pull myself together enough to inform the people he’d want me to tell. Close friends, his lawyer, the McBryde Industries board of directors.”
“Don’t worry, Brianne. Again, I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”
They hung up, and Micki stopped shuffling papers long enough to send him an inquiring look. “Molly’s grandfather?”
“Yes, it’s Emmett. This is going to be a big blow to her.”
“If there’s anything I can do,” Micki began, but he silenced her by aiming a significant nod toward the window. They could see Molly swinging up the other side of the street, carrying a couple of plastic bags from the grocery store. Phoebe, clutching a bouquet of pink flowers, was scampering along beside her, chattering at top speed. The two of them looked happy, as if they’d had a lovely afternoon.
“All I can think of right now, Micki, is to find something for Phoebe to do so I can talk with Molly privately.”
“I’ll close up the office. It’s time, anyway. And Phoebe and I will go visit Lainie Kallbeck and Jody while you’re with Molly. Will that work?”
“Thanks, Micki,” Eric said. He’d enjoyed Emmett’s company in their short time together, and he’d looked forward to seeing him again in Fort Lauderdale. They had discussed sailing together sometime, maybe to the Turks and Caicos islands, perhaps to Bermuda. He’d never dreamed that Emmett was so sick, and he would miss him.
MOLLY SHIFTED HER PARCELS from one hand to the other and waved at Eric as he approached. He was wearing faded denim cutoffs and flip-flop sandals, and a baseball hat sat low over his brow. He wasn’t the kind of guy she would have given more than a casual nod a couple of months ago, and yet now, as he walked toward her, her heart brimmed with happiness and anticipation.
“Dad! We bought more Chunky Monkey ice cream, your favorite! And Corduroy lost a tooth, and Lexie got new tap shoes. Can I take tap dancing lessons, Dad? Can I?”
Eric relieved Molly of the grocery bags and wrapped an arm around her waist. “We’ll talk about it later, Peanut. Say, Micki is locking up the office and she wants you to go with her to visit Jody on Mrs. Kallbeck’s boat. Why don’t you run ahead, and Molly and I will be along soon.”
“Sure!” Phoebe pressed the bouquet of camellias into Molly’s hands and was off like a shot.
As soon as she had rounded the corner of the marina office, Molly leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Hi, guy,” she said. “How’s work on the engine coming along?”
“Almost done. I’m going to replace a filter later, check a few other things.” He started to guide her toward the bougainvillea arbor, but she hung back.
“I bought food for dinner, and I should get started on it right away. Dee gave me one of her favorite recipes, and I’m going to make asparagus casserole for dinner tonight. I thought we’d eat late, just the two of us. Phoebe says she’ll be happy if we let her heat up a can of ravioli, and—”
“Molly,” he said, and she identified a new quality in his voice that made her swing her head around sharply. “I need to talk with you.”
His eyes were dark with gravity and something else, as yet unidentifiable. A flicker of apprehension penetrated her mood and, unobjecting, she let him lead her to the arbor.
“Sit down,” he said gently, and she lowered herself to the bench. Nearby, boats bobbed in their slips. Somewhere a motor chugged into action, the sound receding as the boat headed toward the inlet.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as a sudden premonition emptied her lungs, made it difficult to breathe.
“I’m sorry, Molly, but I have bad news.” His gaze held hers, and for the first time she saw the compassion clouding his eyes. Another emotion simmered beneath their depths: sorrow.
“It’s—it’s my grandfather, isn’t it.” The bouquet fell unheeded to her lap.
He took both her hands in his. “Yes, Molly.” He paused, seemed to gauge her reaction before plunging ahead. “He’s gone.”
Eric’s face swam before her, and a buzzing began in her ears. “You mean—?”
“Brianne called and asked me to break the news to you. He died this afternoon. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, no,” she heard herself say. She’d known he was very ill, but she couldn’t believe that he was really gone. She couldn’t imagine getting along without Emmett. If only she’d visited him despite his insistence that she stay with Fiona! If only—But it was too late now.
And then the tears came, a flood of grief that she made no attempt to hold back. Eric wrapped her in his arms and let her cry, rocking her gently and saying, “It’s okay, Molly, just let it go.”
Which was all she could do for the moment.