Shadows on the Sand (19 page)

He thought for a minute, fiddling with his line as he did. “I think it was a combination of love and respect for each other on the one hand and commitment on the other. People are different, and those differences should be celebrated and encouraged. Of course you need to have common ground, which we had in our values and belief system as well as our kids and home,
but you also need space to be who God made you. We were committed to the idea that the only thing that would rip us apart would be death, not differences.”

We fell silent, and I wondered again at the fact that even death hadn’t broken the bond between Ginny and him.

Oh, Lord, will it ever be my time?

A pull on my pole broke my melancholy. With a delighted shout, I started to reel in, and whatever was on my line was far heavier than the flounder. I reeled and reeled while my catch tried to swim away. My arms began to ache at the struggle. Then the fish broke the surface, and I found myself staring at the ugly, rounded snout of a sand shark.

Even though he was nowhere near the size of Bruce, the mechanical great white from
Jaws
, and didn’t have that double row of razor teeth, a shark is a shark. I gave a squeak and backed up fast. I bumped into the seats on the far side and sat abruptly. I almost dropped my pole. The shark splashed back into the water and started to swim off.

“Come on, Carrie!” Greg called. “It’s just a little guy. Bring it close to the boat.”

I wasn’t anxious to share my space with a shark no matter what size it was, but I reeled some more until the beast was swimming alongside. There wasn’t much of an option since I couldn’t very well let him swim off trailing Greg’s pole.

G
reg peered over the side at the fish and bit back a smile. “It’s just a baby.”

“Baby, my eye.” Carrie looked appalled. “It’s huge!”

“They get up to a hundred and fifty pounds. This guy can’t be more than a couple of feet long, maybe thirty or forty pounds.”

“It feels like a hundred and fifty.” Carrie strained to hold it beside the boat. “Besides, babies are cute and this guy is ug-ly!”

He grabbed a pair of heavy scissors and bent over the side.

“What are you going to do?” She sounded concerned for him. He liked that.

“I’m going to cut it free.”

“Be careful! He might bite!”

“These guys aren’t man-eaters.” He leaned as close as he dared, wary that it might decide to jump and bite out of fear, man-eater or not. He pulled the line taut, lifting the flat head out of the water. In one quick move, he clipped the heavy line as near the hook as he dared. The shark dropped with a soft splash and disappeared into the depths.

With all the weight suddenly gone, Carrie lost her balance and fell back onto a seat. She sat there, rod in hand, hookless line dangling. “My arms will never be the same.”

He eased the rod from her hand and put it in one of the holders mounted in the back of the boat. He sat across from her. “You did great, tiger.”

She grinned at him, her eyes bright. “I did, didn’t I?”

He reached into another small cooler, grabbed a Coke, and passed it to her. She took a long drink.

“Why is it called a sand shark?” she asked. “Because it lives on the sandy bottom?”

“Maybe. Or maybe because of its skin. Brush it one way, and it’s nice and sleek. Brush it the other way, and it’s coarse like sandpaper.”

She eyed him. “And you know this how?”

“With a family of boys, dares were a way of life.”

“And they dared you to touch one? How old were you?”

“Ten or so. Gary was about fourteen and Logan about twelve. It was one of the first times we fished by ourselves.”

“It could have taken off your hand.”

“Nah. They gaffed his tail and held him sideways so I only touched him where it was safe.”

She looked unconvinced and motioned in the direction her shark disappeared. “He’s still got the hook in his jaw.”

“He does. Did you want to take it out?”

“Are you kidding? I was just making an observation.”

“Just another example of how life is messy sometimes. For people and for sharks. But he’s alive and free, and the hook will work itself out in time.”

A drop of rain struck him on the back of the neck. He looked up. A dark cloud had moved in while they were preoccupied with the shark. In seconds a soft but steady rain fell, and the temperature dropped significantly.

Carrie yanked on her fleece pullover, and he slipped into a nylon windbreaker. The chill rain slid down his neck as he turned on the motor and hurried toward the marina. He squinted as the rain slapped him in the face. They were soaked through by the time they tied up in his slip.

As they ran toward his truck, poles and ice chests clutched in cold
hands, the rain stopped and the sun blazed a lovely pink and purple as it sank into the horizon.

Carrie laughed. “Wouldn’t you know!”

That laugh charmed him. Much as he loved Ginny, she’d have fretted over being wet, having her hair messed up, being cold.

They tossed their things in the bed and fell into the truck. Greg turned on the heater as soon as the motor caught. In no time, the windshield was fogged over. He hit the defrost, and gradually the window cleared.

When he could see, he drove toward Carrie’s. “Why don’t you run in and change into something dry, and then we’ll go to my place and eat our catch?”

He’d caught her in the middle of pulling her jacket off over her head. She let it settle back on her shoulders, half on, half off, and studied him with those amazing blue eyes. Her slow smile made his breath catch in his chest.

“I’d like that.” Her head disappeared into her pullover.

When it reappeared, she looked thoughtful. “Do you think Andi should get a restraining order against Bill?”

He blinked. Where had that come from? “Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”

“I don’t know. That’s the whole problem. I don’t know. It could be I’m speaking out of my own background again.”

“You had to get a restraining order?” But she’d been just sixteen. Or younger!

“I didn’t know about them or I could have, I guess.”

His blood chilled. “Against who? Not your mother. Your father? A boyfriend?”

She shrugged. “Not Mom. She was weak and so flawed. I think in her own way she loved us, but she left us vulnerable. And I never knew my dad.
Neither did Lindsay. Know hers, I mean. But there was any number of guys we had to protect ourselves from. My mother’s bad taste in men knew no end.”

He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, offer her his strength and protection even though it was many years too late. Instead he drove to her place. She ran inside, returning a few minutes later in dry jeans and a white knit shirt under a red fleece big shirt. She had a grocery bag in her arms.

“What’s that?”

“Salad makings. My contribution.”

“You’ve already contributed a flounder.”

She grinned. “I’m trying not to be too proud about that. ‘Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.’ ”

He grinned. He loved the way she could laugh at herself.

They drove to his place, a three-bedroom rancher he’d bought two years ago after he sold the old Victorian he’d shared with Ginny and the kids. At the time he’d felt he had to get away from the painful memories and make new ones. Now as he unlocked the front door and ushered Carrie inside, he realized that this place had no memories. None. It was as if he hadn’t had a life since he moved here.

“You’re the first person besides my parents who’s been here since I bought this place,” he said, appalled at the realization of how desolate he’d let his life get. Two years and he’d not even had his brothers here or a buddy, let alone a woman.

Carrie looked around with interest. “Well, you’re very tidy for a guy living alone.”

And that was the best that could be said for the place. Talk about sterile. He’d never tried to add any of the homey touches Ginny always had. No
plants, no pictures, no decorator stuff. In fact he’d never bothered to unpack most of the boxes.

It was past time to get a life.

In the kitchen he left Carrie looking for whatever she needed to make her salad while he got into dry clothes. Then he cleaned and prepared the fish. As he did so, he went back to their earlier discussion about Carrie’s past.

“Did any of your mother’s boyfriends molest you?” He held his breath as he waited for the answer.

She gave a tight smile. “Fortunately when I was young, none of Mom’s men were interested in little girls. By the time I caught the eye of one man, I was smart enough to protect myself.”

He hated asking, but he had to know. “How did you do that?”

“I went to the old man across the hall, a drunk who was very nice on the rare occasions he was sober, and got him to put a strong lock on my bedroom door. I bought it with money I stole from one of Mom’s guys when he was passed out on our sofa. I figured I deserved it.”

He thought of his home growing up, the love, the laughter, the roughhousing with brothers, the encouragement of his parents. He’d learned how blessed he was when he was a cop and saw the terrible things parents sometimes did to their kids. It always hurt him, but because this was Carrie talking, the barb of horror pierced deeper.

“At night I pushed the bureau in front of the locked door.” She said it as if every kid fought off molesters and perverts by moving furniture in the dark. “And I had a nasty-looking knife I’d stolen from the grocery store. I hid it under a floorboard during the day and slept with it under my pillow. I only had to threaten with it and the guy would back off—if he managed to get into the room.”

“Geez, Carrie!” How had she turned out so together, so kind, so
whole
?

She shrugged. “It could have been a lot worse.”

Yeah, it could have been. He’d seen worse far too many times. But this was Carrie, his Carrie, and it broke his heart that she’d been forced to live through such trauma. “Didn’t you tell anyone at school?”

She shook her head as she set the brimming salad bowl on the table. “They would have put us in foster care, and I was terrified of being separated from Lindsay. Protecting her and staying together became my reasons for living.”

“I am in awe of you and your strength,” he said, meaning every word.

She waved his comment away. “I used to ask God, if He was up there, to help us. I wanted Him to make Mom wake up one morning all better. Then she’d find a nice guy who would be a loving daddy.” She gave a sad little laugh. “That didn’t happen, but He sent us to Mary P and Warren.” She smiled. “That’s about as good as it gets.”

He thought of how strong she’d been in dealing with the blows life had rained on her and how wimpy he’d been about his own pain. He resolved to stand tall and be worthy of her.
Lord, by Your grace and in Your strength!

“Anyway,” she continued, “I think where I come from is why I worry so about Andi. I don’t want her to have to live in fear.”

“Has she told you she’s afraid of Bill?”

Carrie shook her head. “But you’ve seen the bruise on her wrist. You saw him give it to her.”

He reached out and caught her wrist. “I could bruise you without even meaning to if I held you tightly enough.”

She nodded. “He’s just such a jerk.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.” He dropped her hand and turned his attention to lifting the flounder from the pan and draining it on paper towels. He laid the fish on a plate and carried it to the table, where they sat across from each other. He said grace for them.

“This is delicious!” she said around a mouthful. “Better even than Warren’s.”

“That’s because you caught it yourself.”

“And you filleted it and cooked it.” She closed her eyes as she took another mouthful, savoring it. “I could get used to this.”

So could he, he thought as he stuck his fork into the salad. So could he.

K
nowing that Mr. and Mrs. Peoples had to leave the house sometime, Harl Evans sat in his car down the street and waited, his fingers beating the steering wheel in time with the rap he was enjoying without Mike present to sneer at his choice.