Читать книгу: «Harbour Lights»
Acclaim for New York Times bestelling author
Sherryl Woods
‘Sherryl Woods always delights her readers— including me!’
—No.1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber
‘Compulsively readable … Woods’s novel easily rises
above hot-button topics to tell a universal tale of friendship’s redemptive power.’
—Publishers Weekly on Mending Fences
‘Sherryl Woods always delivers a fast, breezy … romance.’
—Jayne Ann Krentz
‘Sherryl Woods gives her characters depth, intensity, and the right amount of humour.’
—RT Book Reviews
‘Sherryl Woods is a uniquely gifted writer whose deep understanding of human nature is woven into every page.’
—New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers
Other novels in the Chesapeake Shores series
THE INN AT EAGLE POINT
FLOWERS ON MAIN
Coming soon
CHRISTMAS AT CHESAPEAKE SHORES
Many of Sherryl’s novels are available in eBook Please visit: www.mirabooks.co.uk
Harbour Lights
Sherryl Woods
A Chesapeake Shores novel
Dear Friends,
From the time I was four, I spent my summers along the Potomac River not far from the Chesapeake Bay. My love for this locale has grown out of those carefree days spent swimming—not very well—in the river, walking along the beaches and, more recently, sitting on my front porch watching a bald eagle sit high in an old oak tree peering out at the water. There’s no place on earth quite like this in terms of beauty and tranquillity.
Though my love of the area grew over time, another member of my family was far more pro-active in seeking to save this vast estuary. My mother’s cousin, Tayloe Murphy, while in the Virginia House of Delegates and later as Director of Natural Resources for the state, has been heavily involved in both creating legislation and in oversight. He and others were my inspiration for some of the characters in Harbour Lights, including Mick O’Brien’s brother Thomas.
Of course, Mick’s son, Kevin, has his own love of this region and it helps him to begin the healing process as he returns to the fictional town of Chesapeake Shores with his son after his wife’s death in Iraq. I hope you’ll enjoy Kevin’s very emotional story and enjoy being back with all the O’Briens.
And if you ever have the opportunity, I hope you’ll visit the Chesapeake Bay and come to understand why the fight to preserve its natural beauty is so important.
All good wishes,
1
Thirteen months later
Kevin glanced out the window of his childhood bedroom. The yard that sloped down toward the Chesapeake Bay was decorated with balloons. Piles of presents sat on a picnic table next to a cake decorated with toy trucks, Davy’s favorite things. All of the O’Briens had gathered to celebrate his son’s second birthday, but Kevin could barely summon the energy to get out of bed. Despite his resolve to be strong for Davy, he’d pretty much been a wreck since Georgia’s death, not able to get a fix on anything, unable to make even the most basic decisions about his life.
He had made three decisions, though. He’d quit his job as a paramedic, he’d sold the town house, which was filled with memories of his too-brief marriage, and he’d moved home. At least here, he knew there were plenty of people who would love and look out for his son while he figured out what came next. That was something he really needed to get to … one of these days.
Someone pounded on the door of his room—his younger brother from the sound of it.
“Get your butt downstairs!” Connor bellowed. “The party’s about to start.”
Given his choice, Kevin would have crawled back into bed and pulled the pillow over his head to block out the sound of laughter coming from outside. He wouldn’t, though. For one thing, even if nothing else in his life made sense, his son was the most important person in it. Kevin wouldn’t let him down. For another, either Gram or his dad would be up here next, and either one of them had the power to shame him into doing what was right for the occasion.
“On my way,” he assured Connor.
He showered in record time, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and slid his feet into an old pair of sneakers, then went downstairs. Only his youngest sister, Jess, was in the kitchen. She surveyed him, then shook her head.
“You’re a mess,” she declared.
“I showered. These clothes are clean,” he protested.
“Did you lose your razor? And maybe your comb?”
“Who are you?” he grumbled. “The fashion patrol?”
“Just calling it like I see it, big brother. Everyone else spruced up for the party. Turning two is a big deal.”
“Do you honestly think Davy’s going to care if I shaved?” he asked as he rubbed his hand over his unshaven jaw. He had shaved yesterday—or was it the day before? He couldn’t recall. Mostly the days slipped by in a blur.
“No, Davy won’t care today, but you’ll look like some derelict in the pictures. Is that the memory you want him to carry with him throughout his life? Last year on his first birthday it made sense that you looked ragged. It was only a few weeks after Georgia—”
“Don’t mention her name,” he snapped.
“Someone has to,” she said, looking him directly in the eye without backing down. “You loved her, Kev. I get that. You’re hurting and angry because she’s gone, but you can’t pretend she didn’t exist. She was that little boy’s mom. What are you planning to do, let him go through his entire life with the subject of his mother off-limits? What about his grandparents? Do you expect them never to mention their daughter’s name?”
“I can’t talk about her. Not yet.” He knew it was irrational, but somehow he thought if he didn’t talk about Georgia or her death, it wouldn’t be real. She’d still be out there, on the other side of the world, saving lives. She’d still walk through the door one day, back into his life.
“When, then?” Jess asked, her gaze unrelenting.
If he hadn’t been so annoyed, he might have admired her persistence. For a woman who rarely stuck with anything for long, Jess had certainly dug in her heels on this. Just his freaking luck.
“What do you expect me to say?” he snapped again. “A day? A month? Hell if I know when I’ll be ready.” Even as he spoke, he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He hated the sign of weakness almost as much as he hated this whole conversation. “Just drop it, okay?”
Of course she didn’t. “Sit down,” she ordered, not cutting him any slack.
He didn’t like that Jess was turning the tables on him. His little sister had always come to him for advice. Now she was obviously planning to dole it out. Just like Georgia, once Jess got stirred up, she was going to speak her mind, whether anyone wanted to listen or not. Apparently this was one of those times. Kevin sat, mostly because he was too shaky not to and because she’d plunked a cup of much-needed coffee on the table to go with whatever words she was intent on dishing out.
She pulled a chair close and sat so that her knees were brushing his. She covered one of his hands with hers. The show of sympathy was almost his undoing.
“Listen to me, Kev. You need to get out of this house.”
Alarm shot through him. “Why? Has Gram said something? Is having Davy underfoot too much for her? Do she and Dad want me out of here?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know better,” she said impatiently. “This is your home. I wasn’t saying you should move. I was saying you need to get a life.” Her gaze, locked with his, was filled with compassion. “I know this is going to sound harsh, but somebody needs to say it. Georgia died. You didn’t. And Davy needs his dad, the real one, not the one who walks around here all day in a daze.”
He frowned at her. “I’m not drinking, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Nobody said you were. Look, I’m saying all this now, before everyone else has a chance to gang up on you. You know it’s coming. You must. This family can’t keep their opinions to themselves worth a damn. It’s amazing we’ve all been so quiet for this long.”
He smiled, despite his sour mood. “You’re right about that.”
“Will you at least think about what I’ve said? If you promise to do that much, I’ll run interference and keep the others at bay a while longer. Abby, the mother hen, is champing at the bit to offer her own special brand of tough love. She’s worried sick that you haven’t snapped out of this dark mood.”
Since he would do just about anything to keep from being surrounded by all that well-meaning concern, especially from his oldest sister, he nodded. “There’s just one thing.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t have any idea at all what to do with myself.”
“You’re a paramedic,” she reminded him at once. “There are openings right here in town. I’ve checked.”
He shook his head. “No. I’ll never do that again.” His career was all twisted up in his mind with Georgia and how she’d died on a call to a market in Baghdad after an explosive device had been triggered, killing and wounding a bunch of innocent civilians. She and her team had arrived just in time for the second bomb to be detonated. Kevin knew his reaction, his refusal to put his EMT training to good use, wasn’t rational, but then he wasn’t operating much on reason these days.
“You sure about that?” Jess asked.
“A hundred percent.”
Her expression brightened. “Then I have an even better idea.”
He didn’t like the glint in her eyes one bit. Jess had always had a knack for getting into mischief. Ideas came fast and furiously with her. It was the follow-through that was lacking. Or had been, anyway, until she’d opened The Inn at Eagle Point. That seemed to have captured her complete attention. After a shaky start, she had the place running smoothly and successfully.
“What’s your idea?” he asked warily.
“A fishing charter,” she said at once, then rushed in before he could utter an immediate objection. “You could lease dock space at the Harbor Lights Marina. Come on, Kev, at least think about it. You spent half your life on the water as a kid. You always claimed it calmed you, even if you didn’t come home with a single rockfish or croaker. And naturally, because you didn’t really give two hoots about catching them, the fish practically jumped into your boat.”
“You want me to become a waterman?” he asked incredulously. It was a hard, demanding life, especially with the impact that farming and other human misdeeds were having on fish, crabs and oysters in the bay’s waters, to say nothing of what skyrocketing fuel costs had done to profit margins.
“Not exactly. I want you to take people out on your boat to fish.”
He gave her a wry look. “The only boat I currently own is barely big enough for me and one passenger, and I wind up rowing home more often than not because the motor’s unreliable.”
“Which is exactly why you’ll spend some of that trust fund money that’s sitting in the bank on a bigger, more reliable boat. Dad set up those funds for us to buy a home or start a business. I know you haven’t touched yours, so the start-up money’s there, Kev.”
“And you think this can become an actual career?” he asked skeptically.
“It’s not up there with saving lives,” she said pointedly. “But I get requests practically every day from guests at the inn who want to go fishing. There’s no one in town who does charters. Once in a while I can convince George Jenkins to take someone out, but he has the conversational skills of a clam.”
Kevin thought about the long, lazy days he and Connor had spent on the bay as boys. They were some of the best in his life. He hadn’t cared a fig about catching fish, just as Jess said, but he’d loved the peace and quiet of being on the water. Of course, if he had a boat full of strangers along, the tranquillity would pretty much be shattered. Yet somehow the idea took hold.
Jess regarded him hopefully. “You’ll think about it?”
There were a thousand practical things to be considered, but the idea held promise. He’d have to take classes to become licensed to be a captain, for example, and that would get him out of the house. Maybe that alone would be enough to keep everyone off his case.
He nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good! Now let’s go outside and spoil that son of yours rotten,” Jess said, dragging him to his feet. “You should see his haul of presents. They’re piled high. Davy doesn’t entirely understand yet that they’re his, so this should be fun.”
Fun wasn’t something Kevin had had in his life for a while now, but when he saw Davy running around on his chubby little legs, his mouth already streaked with chocolate frosting, he couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. And when Davy spotted his father and a smile spread across his face, Kevin felt a split second of pure joy. It was Georgia’s smile, as bright and carefree as she had been.
For the first time since his wife had died, the sorrow lifted briefly and he felt hopeful again.
Despite his promise to Jess, Kevin spent two more weeks holed up at home, passing his days with Davy and his evenings hiding out in his room away from Gram’s pitying looks and his father’s increasing impatience. Mick clearly had plenty to say to him, Kevin could tell, but apparently an edict from Gram had kept his father silent. He doubted that would last much longer.
To his surprise, it was Gram herself who broke the silence first. She joined him on the porch at dusk one evening, handed him a glass of iced tea and a plate of his favorite oatmeal raisin cookies and said, “We need to talk.”
“About?” Kevin asked, even more wary than he had been when Jess had made the same announcement. If Jess was good at uncomfortable, straight talk, it was because she’d learned from a master—their grandmother. Nell O’Brien had stepped in to raise them after their mother and father had divorced. She had a huge heart and a tart tongue.
“The way you’re moping around this house day in and day out,” she replied. “It’s not good for you, and it’s certainly not good for your boy. A child needs to expand his world, to see other children.”
Kevin frowned at that. “His cousins are here all the time.”
“Caitlyn and Carrie are almost eight now, and while they love playing with Davy, he needs to be with some youngsters his own age.” She gave him a penetrating look. “He needs to laugh, Kevin. When was the last time you got down on the ground and rough-housed with him, made him giggle?”
“Seems to me that Dad’s filling that role.” In fact, Mick seemed to delight in it.
“It’s his father who ought to be doing it, not his grandfather. When was the last time you took Davy into town for an ice-cream cone?”
“You took him just yesterday,” Kevin reminded her.
Gram gave him an impatient look. “Is that what I asked? I want to know when you took him.”
“I haven’t,” he admitted. “But I don’t see why that’s such a big deal. Davy’s got plenty of attention around here. That’s why I moved back to Chesapeake Shores.”
“So we could raise him for you?” she asked. The question was pointed, though her tone was gentle.
“No, of course not,” he retorted, then regretted his tone and sighed. “Maybe.”
“Kevin, we all know you’re grieving over Georgia, and there’s not a thing we wouldn’t do to help out, but you have to start living again. You have to give Davy a more normal life. I know Jess has talked to you about this, so I waited, but you’re showing no signs of changing. I can’t go on watching you shortchange Davy or yourself like this. It’s just plain wrong. You’re a vital young man with a lot of years ahead of you. Don’t waste them and live to regret it.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Kevin knew she was right. He just had no idea precisely what he could do about it, not when he was filled with so many conflicting emotions. He was angry about a war that had taken a child’s mother and left him a single dad. He was guilt-ridden about not having tried harder to make Georgia reconsider taking another tour in Iraq, even after just about everyone in his family had begged him to. And he was grieving for a vibrant young woman who would never know her son, who wouldn’t be there for his first day of school, his college graduation, his wedding.
He finally lifted his head and faced his grandmother. “Gram, I have no idea what to do. Some days just getting out of bed seems like a triumph.”
She nodded knowingly. “That’s the way I felt when your grandfather died. I’m sure it’s the way Mick felt when your mother left him alone with all of you children to raise. You know how he handled that.”
“By taking off for work every chance he got,” Kevin said bitterly.
“Do you think staying here and hiding out is any kinder?” she asked him.
The soft-spoken words hit him like a slap. “But I—”
She reached over and covered his hand with hers before he could argue that this was different.
“He didn’t intend any hurt, either, Kevin,” Gram said. “Mick was managing the only way he knew how. So are you. But both of you are better than that. Mick’s a little late in trying to make up for those absences. I don’t want you to wait till Davy’s grown before fixing this.”
“Where do I start?” he asked, genuinely at a loss. Plunging into a career taking out fishing charters, while it held some appeal, was more than he could cope with. It might require him to be civil to strangers, and he didn’t trust himself to do that. Not yet. Just look at how quickly he lost patience with the people he actually cared about.
Gram gave his hand a squeeze. “You take one step at a time. Tomorrow, I expect you to get away from this house. This first time, go into town while Davy’s down for his nap. Have lunch at Sally’s. Stop by Bree’s flower shop. Visit Jess at the inn and help her out for a couple of hours. It doesn’t matter. Just do one thing tomorrow that’s a step forward. The next day, take another.”
When she said it like that, when she didn’t ask for an overnight transformation or a leap into a whole new career as Jess had suggested, it seemed possible. Reasonable, even.
“I can do that,” he said eventually.
“Well, of course you can,” she said reassuringly.
He thought back to all the years when Gram had been left virtually on her own with him, his brother and sisters, while his mother was making a new life for herself in New York and Mick was roaming the world for work.
“Gram, did you ever have doubts after you moved in here to help Dad raise us?”
She laughed. “I didn’t have time for doubts, not with the five of you to run me ragged. Besides, I had the advantage of having raised your father and uncles. I already knew a thing or two.”
“I’ve been in a war. I’ve worked as a paramedic. None of that’s easy or predictable.” He shook his head. “But despite all that, there are days when the thought of raising Davy on my own scares me to death.”
“But you’re not on your own now, are you?” she reminded him lightly. “None of us are going to abandon you to the task. We just don’t want you to miss out on being the kind of father I know deep down that you want to be.”
“How’d you get to be so smart?” he teased, feeling lighter than he had in a long, long time.
“Live long enough and it’s amazing what you pick up,” she said as she stood. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Kevin. Never forget that.”
“As if you’d let me,” he grumbled.
She chuckled. “Yes, as if. Don’t stay up too late.”
“Thanks, Gram, for the cookies and the talk.”
She winked at him. “Can’t have one without the other.”
It was true, Kevin thought, as she left him alone. Gram’s serious talks had always been accompanied by freshly baked cookies—oatmeal raisin for him, chocolate chip for his sisters and peanut butter for Connor. The advice had always gone down more easily because of it. Just as it had tonight.
One step forward, he reminded himself. That’s all she was expecting.
Chances were, he thought wryly, one step was just about all he could manage.
The cappuccino machine was a complete mystery. If she’d had money to burn, Shanna would have tossed it across the room and let it shatter. But the success of her new business depended on making coffee and tea sales as brisk as selling books and games. And she needed this business to succeed in the worst way.
She’d poured every last dime she had into Word Games. She was hoping to combine her love of reading and board games like Scrabble, Clue, Sequence and Monopoly with her obsessive need for frequent caffeine fixes and turn it into something that would help her bring her life back into focus.
She’d picked Chesapeake Shores because it was a small seaside town, rather than an overwhelming city. On a prior visit, she’d been drawn in by its serenity, its friendly people. She’d noted the absence of any business similar to the one she wanted to open. Who could be at the beach without wanting a good book? Or a few games and puzzles to keep the kids occupied? She’d probably need to look into handheld electronic games, as well, but not only was the technology pricier than she could afford, it was a complete mystery to her. How could she sell something she couldn’t explain to her customers? Of course, half the teenagers in town could probably explain those games to her.
Though the idea of starting her own business was scary, it was exciting, as well. She’d loved every second of placing her initial orders. Now, she had plenty of stock, most of it still in boxes, and lots of ideas, jotted on Post-it notes stuck on a refrigerator in the shop’s back room or on the beat-up old desk she’d salvaged from a thrift shop.
What she needed next, more than anything, was a caffeine fix. Unfortunately, the stupid machine wasn’t cooperating. She couldn’t even read the instructions, which seemed to be in every language except plain English. There were, in fact, recognizable English words on the page, but added together they were indecipherable.
Since the cappuccino machine was too costly to replace, she heaved the world’s ugliest mug—a joke goodbye gift from her best friend—across the room instead. Naturally, it didn’t shatter, which Shanna would have counted as a blessing. Instead, it was caught by a startled man who’d just opened the front door.
She was about to apologize, but he was studying the awful orange mug with fascination. When he lifted his gaze to hers, there was a faint, but unmistakable twinkle in his dark blue eyes. It died quickly, but that glimpse of it had made her heart catch.
“The mug is pretty hideous, but do you really think that’s cause to put it out of its misery?” he inquired lightly.
“Actually the coffeemaker was on my hit list. The cup was just a less costly substitute.”
“Lousy instructions and a need for caffeine,” he guessed. “It’s a dangerous combination. Sally’s is a couple of doors down. Why don’t I buy you a cup of coffee before you try to break something else?”
Embarrassed, Shanna shook her head. “I think I can control myself until I figure this out.”
He hesitated, looking oddly torn, then stepped all the way inside. “At least let me take a look at those instructions,” he offered. “Maybe I’ll have better luck. I’m Kevin O’Brien, by the way. My sister owns the flower shop next door. Any idea where she is? There’s a closed sign on the door.”
Shanna shrugged. “Not a clue. I haven’t met a soul on the block yet. I’ve been totally focused on trying to get this place ready to open. I’m Shanna Carlyle.”
“I’m surprised Bree hasn’t been in here pestering you for information about your plans. She prides herself on knowing everything going on in town.”
“This all happened pretty fast,” Shanna said. “There was a waiting list of people looking for retail space on Main Street. I got a call that the prior occupant wanted to move to a bigger space and I could take over her lease. That was two weeks ago, and here I am.” She was babbling, but something about this man made her as nervous as a teenager meeting the sexy new kid in school for the first time.
“You’ve accomplished all this in two weeks?” he said, his amazement plain as he took in the fresh coat of paint and the stacks and stacks of boxes.
She gave him a wry look. The place was a disorganized mess. Still, it did look as if something might happen in here soon.
“I’d done a lot of my homework, knew the kind of inventory I wanted to carry and where to get it. All I had to do was establish my credit, which thankfully is good, and make some calls to vendors.” She shrugged. “Besides, I couldn’t afford a lot of downtime once I signed the lease. I need to get money coming in if I’m going to keep up with the rent on the shop space and the apartment upstairs.”
He surveyed the room and the piles of boxes. “What’s your target date for opening?”
“A week from Saturday.”
He looked skeptical. “Then you need help.”
“I can’t afford help.”
Once again, she noticed a faint hesitation, as if he thought he was going to hate himself for uttering what came next.
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need to be paid,” he said eventually, his hands shoved in his pockets, his expression bland. “I have a little time to burn while I wait for Bree. I’d be glad to pitch in.”
Shanna stilled. Big-city jitters kicked in. Kevin O’Brien was definitely intriguing. And probably safe enough, if his sister owned the florist shop next door. She’d heard the name O’Brien around town, knew that a man named Mick O’Brien, in fact, had been the architect who’d designed and built Chesapeake Shores. The woman she’d dealt with at the management company had been an O’Brien, too.
“So, are you one of the O’Briens?” she asked. “I’ve read a little about Mick and I met Susie.”
“My father and my cousin,” he told her.
That was reassuring, but still, old habits kept her cautious. “I appreciate the offer to help, but I probably should do it myself. I have to figure out the placement for all this stuff as I go. And, as you can see, the shelves aren’t in yet. They’re not coming till tomorrow.”
He didn’t seem especially disappointed by her refusal. In fact, he almost looked relieved.
“Okay, then, no coffee from Sally’s, no help in here,” he said easily. “How about the cappuccino machine? Want me to take a crack at that?”
Not wanting to seem ungracious, Shanna finally nodded. “Sure. If you can get it working, your first purchase is on me.”
“You shouldn’t be offering to give books away,” he scolded as he studied the instructions, then sorted through the tools she’d spread out until he found the one he wanted. “Though my son will be delighted. Picture books are among his favorite things. I’m sure we’ll be frequent customers.”
Her heart did an odd little stutter step. She couldn’t have said for sure if it was disappointment or delight. Kevin was an attractive man, after all, but she loved kids. She was hoping the store would draw a lot of them.
“You have a son?”
He nodded. “Davy. He’s two.”
“Well, you or your wife will have to bring him in as soon as I open. I have a huge selection of picture books on order.”
For an instant, it looked as if Kevin had been frozen in time, almost as if he weren’t even breathing. Then he exhaled slowly and frowned as he concentrated on the cappuccino machine. Shanna could tell instantly that she’d said something wrong, but she had no idea what it might have been. Perhaps it was mentioning his wife. Maybe they were divorced, but wouldn’t she have their child? It sounded as if the boy lived with his dad.
Then she remembered. When she’d first come to Chesapeake Shores for a visit a year ago, recovering from her own very complicated and shattered marriage, she’d stayed at the inn. It, too, was run by an O’Brien. And the whole place had been buzzing because the owner’s brother had lost his wife in Iraq and had just moved home with his son. Her heart had ached at the news, not just for the man who’d lost his wife, but for the little boy who would grow up without a mother.
That man was Kevin—it had to be. She felt awful, but had no idea how to apologize, especially since her inadvertent mention of his wife had caused such a strong reaction. Maybe it was better to let it pass.
Even as she was debating with herself over the best tactic, he stood up. “Where’s the nearest plug?”
She gestured toward a table she’d set up temporarily to hold the machine. The foam cups, gourmet coffee beans, and supplies were already sitting on it.
Within minutes, he had the coffee brewing, the rich aroma filling the space.
“Milk?” he asked.
“In the refrigerator in back. I’ll get it.”
When she brought it back, he deftly frothed it to perfection, poured it on top of a cup of fragrant coffee and handed it to her. “There you go,” he said with a grin. “You’re all set.”
“I’m eternally grateful,” she said, meaning it. “The coffee’s fantastic.” She met his gaze and asked impulsively, “What are you doing a week from Saturday? If you’ll man this machine, I’ll not only give your son his pick of any book in the place, but I’ll pay you, too. I can’t afford to hire anyone even part-time just yet, but I can certainly pay you for one day just to keep the customers in coffee.”
His expression closed down as if the offer offended him. “If I’m around, I’ll help out, but I don’t want your money.”
“You work, I pay you,” she said, not sure why she was so insistent that it be a business arrangement. From what she’d gathered, the O’Briens were probably not in need of the kind of paltry money she could afford to pay. Still, paying her way was a matter of pride to her. Accusations from her former in-laws that she’d been a gold digger were still a little too raw. She didn’t want to start her life in Chesapeake Shores feeling indebted to anyone.
