Heartbreak Cove (Sanctuary Island) (RE8) (23 page)

“I’ll do what I have to.” Sam hung up the phone without another word, his mind racing down various paths, testing scenarios, looking for a way out. Anything that would keep him from breaking his promise to Andie less than twenty-four hours after making it.

But every path circled back to the same truth: when he’d stolen Queenie, he’d assumed responsibility for her welfare. If those men showed up on Sanctuary, they’d doubtless have pictures and identifying marks mapped out—they’d instantly recognize Queenie as the lieutenant governor’s stolen property.

They’d be within their rights to go to the local authorities with their proof and demand that Sam give Queenie to them. And by the time they got here, Sanctuary Island’s local authorities might well include Andie Shepard once more.

That’s what ultimately decided him. He couldn’t do that to Andie now, when she was getting her life back on track.

If he was going down, he damn sure wasn’t dragging Andie down with him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Taylor scowled out her window at the sunshine and chirping birds. They were offensively cheery when all she wanted was to burrow deeper into her bed and sleep through the next forty-eight hours.

“Tay, get up,” her father shouted up the staircase. “We’re heading out to meet the ferry in less than an hour.”

“I’m not going!” she yelled.

“You have to! Your Aunt Beatrice is coming.”

“Aunt Bea will understand,” Taylor protested, kicking back the covers and glaring at her bedroom door.

It was true. If there was anyone in this family who could relate to the pain of a broken heart, it was Aunt Beatrice. Of course, she’d done as much heart breaking as she had suffered being brokenhearted, but as she liked to say, that just meant she was well rounded.

“Aunt Beatrice might understand, but I don’t.” Harrison McNamara opened her door and stuck his head in with that characteristic paternal disregard for Taylor’s privacy. “What’s the matter, monkey?”

For some reason, the babyish nickname made something twist in Taylor’s chest. Pressing her lips together, she pulled her pillow over her face and spoke through it. “Nothing. I’m fine. Have fun at the party. Wake me up after graduation.”

She heard footsteps, but instead of retreating down the stairs they seemed to be coming closer. Her dad’s “oof” as he tripped over the backpack she’d tossed by her desk confirmed it.

Throwing the pillow to the foot of the bed, Taylor sat up and regarded her father with annoyance. “Go away.”

But years of dealing with Taylor and her teenage hormones and mood swings had apparently given her father a very thick skin. Nothing but concern showed on his distinguished face as he sat on the end of her bed and felt around the blankets until he could clasp her ankle through them. The touch was oddly comforting, but Taylor was no dummy. She knew it was partly intended to keep her still long enough for Dad to pry her feelings out into the open.

“Talk to me, monkey. Or I could go get Jo, if you’d rather.”

Dad was trying to be totally understanding, but Taylor could tell it would hurt his feelings if she asked to speak to her stepmother instead. Besides … “I don’t only talk to Jo,” Taylor pointed out grumpily. “Maybe I used to, but you and I are doing better now, right?”

“You mean after spending your teenage years locked in a battle of wills, you’re finally ready to talk to me … right when you’re about to leave home?” At least Dad looked amused about it.

Taylor bunched her sheets over her tank-top-clad boobs and pinned them down with her arms so she could lean back against the headrest. “We didn’t fight that much.”

Dad gave her a look. “Right. And you never snuck out or missed curfew or trespassed and got arrested for underage drinking.”

“We weren’t charged,” Taylor argued automatically. “My record is clean.”

“Mmm. Thanks to Sheriff Shepard.” Dad’s gaze sharpened on her face, as if the mere mention of the night she and Matt had gotten in trouble had tipped him off. “Is this about Matt? Honey, are you upset about graduation? I know it’s going to be an adjustment, spending next year at different colleges, but—”

“I can’t wait to adjust, then,” Taylor interrupted, wiggling her foot in her father’s warm grasp. She had just the thing to distract him from this convo about Matt. “And I’m not going to college, Dad. At least, not next year. I want to take a year off and travel.”

To her everlasting shock, instead of launching into the same argument they’d had every other time her post-graduation plans came up, Dad pressed his lips together tightly and nodded once. “I think that might be a good idea.”

Taylor almost fell off the bed. “What? Dad, you hate this idea! What changed your mind?”

“It may have been pointed out to me that yours is a temperament that benefits from following your passions. And that you’re unlikely to have a successful college experience if you don’t want to be there … but that a year spent seeing the world might give you the perspective you need to come home and enjoy being a student again.”

Sometimes, Taylor loved her stepmother so much, she could hardly stand it. She lunged at her father and hugged him around the neck. “Daddy! Thank you!”

“Make sure you spend some time in County Clare, in Ireland,” he said gruffly, holding her tight. “It’s good to know where you come from.”

“I already know where I come from,” Taylor told him. “And I promise I’ll stay safe and be smart and come home to you in a year.”

“You’d better.”

They sniffled together for a minute longer before Taylor sat back and pretended to have something in her eye. Dad had allergies too, so he totally got it.

Clearing his throat, Dad fixed her with a knowing stare. “Don’t think this means you’re getting out of going down to the ferry with us. Unless you want to cough up a good reason why you should stay in bed.”

The concession about spending a year abroad made Taylor almost feel like she owed her dad something—wait. Giving him an impressed look, she said, “Man, you’re good. I want to go to business school so I can learn how to out negotiate you.”

“Good luck with that,” Dad said. “Now spill.”

“Oh, fine.” Taylor fell back against her pillows. “Matt and I had a fight. Worst ever.”

“That’s too bad, but I’m sure you’ll make up. It would be a shame to spend the summer fighting with your best friend.”

Dad wasn’t getting it. “No, I mean, we’re not fighting. It’s just … over.”

“Your friendship? Surely you can make up.”

Taylor smiled a little. “Thanks for not asking what I did, by the way. There was a time when you would’ve assumed this was all my fault.”

Those bushy steel-gray brows drew together in a frown. “If I made you feel that way, I’m sorry, Taylor. In any case, I’d never assume that now. You’ve grown into a fine young woman, with a strong sense of who you are. You’re smart and you work hard. You care about other people and you fight for what you want. I’m proud of you. And your mom would be proud too if she were here.”

Dang it, this was the
worst
season for allergies. Taylor rubbed at her eyes and made an effort to keep her voice steady. “Sometimes maybe I fight too hard for what I want. I … told Matt I was in love with him.”

Dad reared backwards like she’d slapped him. “And he didn’t immediately tell you he loves you, too? The next time I see that little—”

“No, don’t.” Taylor took a deep breath and let it out on a shrug. “It is what it is. Matt has a right not to be in love with me.”

“That’s true. He has a right to be an irretrievable idiot who deserves to get stuck with the likes of Cora Coles’ vapid, brainless daughter for the rest of his life.”

“Dad!” Taylor couldn’t help laughing. Suddenly, she felt like maybe she could handle going to the ferry party after all. Pushing her feet against her father’s hip, she shoved him over a few inches. “Go on, get out of here so I can get dressed.”

“You’ll come with us?”

He looked so happy that Taylor felt bad that she’d made a fuss about it. “Aunt Bea would probably turn right around and get back on the ferry if I’m not there to greet her.”

Dad paused at the doorway. “Are you sure? The whole town usually turns out for these things.”

Matt would probably be there, was what he meant. But it was a small island and they were bound to run into each other at some point. Tomorrow at graduation, if not before. Taylor lifted her chin. “I’m sure. I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

And for the first time since last night, she knew that was true. So she loved someone who didn’t love her back. At least she’d told him. She fought for what she wanted. That wasn’t such a bad way to be.

Taylor bounced off the bed and into her closet, sifting through the flannels and T-shirts to find something different. She wasn’t ashamed … but that didn’t mean she couldn’t show up at the ferry party in something that would make Matt see what he was missing.

*   *   *

Caitlin had been quiet since Sam abruptly left the kitchen to take that phone call. To give Sam the time and privacy he obviously needed, Andie had put Caitlin in the bath and started getting her ready for the day. She smoothed the brush one last time through the finally untangled red waves of the little girl’s hair before starting to braid it down her back.

“It’s almost time to go down and see the ferry,” Andie told her. “There’s a big festival to welcome the visitors who are coming to town for graduation, with ice cream and balloons and—”

Caitlin slid off the chair, pulling the trailing ends of her braid from Andie’s fingers. “Are you going to make me leave?”

“What? No!” Shocked, Andie hugged her niece, but Caitlin stayed stiff and unyielding in her arms. “Honey, why would you think that?”

“Because I’m bad,” Caitlin whispered. The words were muffled against the thin cotton of Andie’s sweater, but they sent a chill down her spine.

“Look at me.” Taking Caitlin by the shoulders, Andie moved her back far enough to be able to stare right into those eyes, Owen’s exact shade of aquamarine—and every bit as shadowed as she remembered her brother’s gaze. “You are not bad. And even if you do something bad, you’re still my girl. Remember?”

It took a second, but eventually Caitlin nodded. Keeping her gaze on the ground, she asked, “If Sam did something bad, would you make him leave?”

Andie’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t talked to Caitlin much about the upheaval that had led to Andie being around more during the day. She hadn’t thought Caitlin needed to know—but kids were more perceptive than they seemed, sometimes. Obviously, Caitlin had picked up on the tension surrounding Sam’s criminal past and Andie’s job.

But how to answer her question? “It’s not exactly the same, sweetie. You’re my family. It’s my job to love you no matter what.”

“But you love Sam, and he loves you. I heard him say it.”

The memory filled Andie with light. “It’s true. But love between grown-ups is different. There are things Sam could do to make me send him away—for instance, if he hurt you.”

“He wouldn’t,” Caitlin said, so confidently that it made Andie smile.

“I know. I couldn’t love a man who would, and I can’t imagine Sam ever hurting anyone, least of all his favorite riding student—but I’m trying to explain that as much as I love Sam, I can’t promise we’ll be together forever, no matter what. Life is long and complicated—no one could make a promise like that and be sure of keeping it.”

“Hmm.” Caitlin made a dissatisfied face, then turned her back so that Andie could tie off her dangling braid. “What if I did something against the law? Would you have to arrest me?”

“I’m not the sheriff right now,” Andie reminded her. “And if you did something illegal, I’d want to find out why. I’d want to understand why you felt you had to do it, and I’d help you any way I could.”

The way Caitlin bent her head forward made the braid swing to the side, exposing the vulnerable nape of her pale neck. The sight of it awoke an all-consuming tenderness in Andie’s chest.

“I stole something once,” Caitlin said, fast, like ripping off a bandage.

Andie blinked at the back of Caitlin’s head. “Oh.” She had so many questions—What was it? Were you caught? But she settled on, “How old were you?”

Caitlin shrugged stiffly, still facing away from Andie. “I don’t remember. It was a candy bar. I took it from the thing by the cash register at the grocery store by our house, where I lived with my mom.”

Andie sucked in a silent breath. Caitlin never talked about her mother. Ever. “Did you get in trouble?”

“My mom didn’t care. She laughed about it. But she told me if I was bad like that again, the police would come and take me away and I’d have to live at prison.”

Every ounce of Andie’s blood heated to boiling. That woman. If Caitlin’s mom weren’t dead already, Andie would be tempted to find her and slap the crap out of her. “That’s not what would happen,” Andie said now, striving for calm as she encouraged Caitlin to face her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’re still a minor, which means the police and the courts treat you differently. But stealing is illegal, and I know you know it’s wrong. So why did you do it?”

Caitlin shrugged, mouth tight and lashes lowered. She looked like the girl who’d first arrived on Andie’s doorstep weeks ago, silent and withdrawn. “I don’t know. I was hungry, I guess.”

So hungry that she’d resorted to stealing. Andie put that together with the other things Caitlin had let slip about her former life—the way Caitlin hesitated to trust women, the mother who forgot about her when a new boyfriend was in the picture and hadn’t cared when her daughter was caught stealing …

Andie made an intuitive leap and hoped she wasn’t about to screw this up. “Caitlin. Did your mom make you breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Or did she forget sometimes?”

Looking uncomfortable, Caitlin shrugged again. “There was usually cereal and stuff. I could reach it if I pulled a chair over to climb up on the counter.”

Andie’s heart squeezed tight. Cereal. That this child poured for herself, after risking breaking her neck by climbing around the kitchen cabinets like they were a jungle gym. “Caitlin.”

The little girl’s eyes sharpened, taking on that too-adult gleam she’d almost shed over the past few weeks. “My mother didn’t want me. She never said it, but I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid. Which means I know you can tell how much I
do
want you. No matter what you did in the past, and no matter what you might do in the future. You know you’re my girl.”

Caitlin’s chin quivered, but she smiled, the shadows clearing from her eyes until they were the bright blue of a summer sky. “Yeah. I guess I do know that. Okay. Let’s go find Sam.”

“First, a hug. Nonnegotiable.”

Caitlin sighed and rolled her eyes, but when Andie gathered the slight body into her arms, Caitlin clung hard for a long moment. Blinking back tears, Andie said roughly, “Come on. Let’s go see if Sam’s off the phone yet.”

Parenting was full of conversations like this, she’d discovered. Like an endless pop quiz in a subject she hadn’t signed up for, but somehow Andie felt as if she wasn’t failing too horribly. If she kept repeating that she loved Caitlin, and tried to be honest with her, Andie thought she couldn’t go all that wrong.