"Why?" Abby had figured that Ossy knew Duncan, but she had not expected this sort of a report.
"Os." Pat's gentle warning was soft and firm.
"Not this time, Pat. I watched that boy grow up. The best thing Lachlan ever did was send him away to the Army. Irresponsible and reckless, one girl after another. Just the kind of thing our Abby doesn't need."
By this time, he was sitting up and pointing his thumb at Abby.
"Listen to me, Abby. Stay away from him." He settled back down into the pillows at his back.
The pit of Abby's stomach began to twist. She was just beginning to think that maybe she was on the right track. Duncan had been so kind to her. Well, so much for that. At least she had a job, and that was nothing to sneeze at.
As if Pat could read her mind, she said, "Os, people can change. Especially if the Lord has anything to do with it. Duncan has been gone for ten years. You don't know him anymore."
Ossy didn't answer; he just closed his eyes.
"Mark my words, Pat, mark my words. Play me a jig on that thing today. Nothing sad."
He swiped the air a few times with his left hand. Abby shared a smile with Pat.
Abby began to play an old Scottish dance tune and followed it with two airs. As usual, he was asleep before she finished the third song. She let the last strum resonate away, parked her dulcimer in its case and followed Pat to the kitchen.
"You have a wonderful gift with that instrument. It reminds me of David playing for Saul and the evil spirit being driven away." Pat offered Abby a seat at the kitchen table. Abby sat while Pat put the kettle on.
"Thank you. You look tired. How are you holding up?"
"I'm doing as well as I expect to be."
They grinned at each other over her use of Ossy's words.
"How long have you known Duncan MacLeod?"
"I met him Saturday at family day."
"Oh, I wanted to be there. It seems quick for you to like him so well. Does he like you?"
Abby continually wondered at the insight of her friend.
"Well, there's no need to worry about that. I have already decided that he's a no go."
"Why?"
"He's the second man I met at church. You know what happened the first time. Besides that I am going to work for him and I think you have to keep those things separate."
"Jesus changes people, Abby."
"Well, He hasn't helped Brad any."
"Brad has chosen not to be helped."
Chapter 11
Duncan crunched through the gravel parking lot to his truck and dumped off the work he was taking home. Zipping his coat, he walked out to the dock where his new fifty-foot boat was going to be moored. It was too cold to sit and let his feet dangle, so he leaned against the piling and stuffed his hands into his pockets. The smell of the Bay filled his nose. The wind was still up giving foamy caps to the wavelets. The water slapped against the dock. Ducks bobbed in and out of the pilings like bath toys.
Ever since the kiss in the parking lot Duncan could not get his mind off of Chloe. He was not sure if he was ready to be married, no matter that the kiss had intensified his attraction to Abby. If he wasn't ready to be married then he surely wasn't ready to be a father. The little girl with curly brown hair looked just like her mother, except for the blue eyes. Probably from her father, he reasoned.
If the man from the parking lot was her father, what had happened? Who could walk away from Abby? She probably wasn't perfect, but he could see no serious flaws in her character. It was true he didn't know her all that well, but he was good at reading character, and he was willing to bet that in that situation Abby hadn't been the problem. How about Chloe? Didn't he know that children needed their fathers? And not just on the weekends either.
His own father was gone. There was nothing to replace the hours the two had spent planning out this next phase of their operations at MacLeod or the hours that his father had spent with him and his brothers teaching them about boats, about ropes, and wind, and clouds. The jokes they couldn't share with Mom.
It was a painful thing Lachlan had to do when he sent his son into the Army. Duncan was glad that he had. He needed to become a man and the Army with its discipline had done part of that for him. The accident had done the rest.
He could hear the laughter of the boys in the van. Some had been drinking; he had not. Lachlan had taught him to always be in control of his thoughts and actions and Duncan had experimented enough to know that he liked it better that way.
The van was careening alone down the four-lane highway at two in the morning. They were playing jump school. Jerry was the sergeant barking calls to the drunken men. All but Duncan. He was awake and ready for the risk. Mike was the first to jump out of the side of the van and roll across the empty right-hand lane and land in the grass on the other side. Next was Duncan. He steeled himself for the impact of the concrete by reminding himself that it's better to die as a good-looking corpse, and out he went. The air was warm; the concrete was cold and hard. He rolled quickly to the grass. In the distance a spot of light caught the corner of his eye. He began to run to stop the van. The car in the right-hand lane was weaving slightly to the right. Duncan moved closer to the trees on the right side of the grassy area where he had landed.
He could see John in the doorway of the van, hands braced on the roof, ready to fly out.
"No!" Duncan screamed.
John was laughing. He looked Duncan right in the eye and jumped.
If the man driving the white sedan had been sober he might have been able to get around John. Instead he smashed into the ball of a man and flattened him. If Duncan had not been so irresponsible they never would have done van jump school in the first place. Forgiveness had taken a long time. It finally came after long visits with John's widow, Connie, and becoming a member of her church. He accepted God's forgiveness and asked for forgiveness from Connie.
His life turned around. He contacted his father and they began to work on his life after he got out of the Army. His father had died before they had reached the first goal.
And now, here was Abby. He wanted to know her better. She was beautiful and smart, but she'd been hurt. If he was careful, held on loosely, and was patient, she might get better.
But Chloe. He wasn't sure he was ready to be a father.
His body was stiff from standing still in the wind for so long. The sun was beginning to set behind the clouds.
Chapter 12
“I'm not hundry," Chloe whined.
Abby stopped fixing the child's hot dog in time to see her throw up all over the table. After putting Chloe on the couch where she could watch her and scour the table, she dialed Brad.
The phone rang twice and then he picked up.
"Hello?"
No answer.
"Hello?"
Still no answer.
The phone didn't sound like it had been dropped.
One more time then she would hang up.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Abby?"
"Yeah, that was weird."
"What?"
"Our connection was odd like there was dead space."
He said nothing.
"Anyway, Chloe just threw up all over the table so I can't bring her tonight."
"Oh. Is she OK?"
"Probably just a daycare stomach thing." Which you would know about if you had ever taken care of your child.
"She doesn't have a fever."
"Well, call me and tell me how everything went."
"Bye."
Chapter 13
“Don't answer the phone." Brad glared at Suzie who was sitting on the edge of the bed in the tiny yellow hotel room.
"What's the matter with you?" Suzie glared back at him and went back to blowing the paint job on her nails. "I'm expecting a call."
"You're the one who wants to keep everything a big secret, so don't answer the phone. Abby heard you answer." Brad felt more irritation than he could justify. He paced around th
e bed bumping into the television and the writing desk.
Ever since her miscarriage and finding out she couldn't have children, Suzie had been ranting on and on about going back to Ocean View. If she couldn't have a baby, then they'd get Chloe. When the transfer came through she'd been all over it like white on rice.
He didn't want to adopt. He didn't want any children at all. But if he had to have one he reckoned it should be his own flesh. So they'd come back to Ocean View. He hadn't planned on asking Abby to get back together. He just thought he'd check the place out and see how she and Chloe were getting along. Suzie said he should check to see if the house was dirty, but it wasn't. He had known it wouldn't be. Abby always kept a good, clean house. Unlike Suzie.
He didn't know what she did all day. She always seemed to be gone somewhere. She kept him happy elsewhere though, and that was the point. He didn't want a kid getting in the way of his lifestyle.
He didn't know what came over him that night with Abby. He just wanted her then and there. He hadn't even stopped to think what he would do with Suzie waiting back at the hotel for him.
"Who's gonna call you here?" he snapped.
"Julie. I met her when you and I first moved in together. You remember, don't you?"
Suzie perched on her knees on the edge of the bed. She grabbed his belt and pulled him to her.
"I just have to get out of here, honey. I've been packed away in this little room for days." She pouted.
"I still don't understand why we have to keep this all a big secret."
"Honey"—she began to unsnap his shirt—"you know that you are the man. That makes you the head of the household, so your daughter belongs with you. Especially now. Since I can't have anymore, which means you can't have anymore, we should have Chloe. Abby can have more children. Besides, what does she want with your kid anyway? I would never want my ex-husband's kid. Believe me, it's the best thing."
Brad removed her fingers from his hair and snapped closed his shirt.
"Look, Suzie, this is serious stuff here. I've been over there. There is nothing to 'get' her with. The place is spotless. Chloe is clean. We should just leave our life as it is. Aren't I enough for you?"
"Of course you are, silly." She draped herself across the bed.
"It's just that I am so worried about Chloe. You know."
"No, I don't know. You never cared about Chloe until you miscarried. I'm sorry about that. And I've agreed to come this far, but I just don't know about the rest of this whole thing. I've checked on her, and she's fine. We should leave it at that."
"You should let the professionals look into it. You might not know what to look for."
"You don't know what you are getting us into. I hate to say this, but you've never had a baby, Suzie."
Her face fell. He lay next to her and folded her into his arms.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never should have said that... I'm sorry... it's just that I like our life. No midnight feedings, no daycare. Just you and me. I like it that way."
"Oh Brad, please—just for me, look into it, please..."
"OK. OK."
Chapter 14
“Thanks for coming, Mom." Abby held the door open.
"Sure. No problem, hon." Helen brushed past Abby heading straight for the coffee pot. "You're right not to give it to the other kids at daycare. You give it to them and they wind up in the ER in the middle of the night."
"Chloe's still sleeping. I've got to get dressed."
Abby popped into the bedroom. She was grateful not to have time to sit down with Helen. She didn't want to tell her about Duncan. Not yet. Not until she knew what she was going to do with him.
Abby slipped into the blue jeans and a sweater she had laid out the night before. Then she combed her hair and began to braid it into one long plait down her back. There was no doubt that she was attracted to him. He was gorgeous, but it was more than looks that drew her. There was strength in him. Deep inside she sensed he was made of hard, unbending steel. It was the kind of strength she thought had died with her grandfather's generation, the kind that provides shelter in life's hurricanes. He was man, not boy.
Stop thinking like that. It's just a job. No complications.
She touched her fingers to her lips. That kiss had rocked her, but it probably hadn't affected him at all. Not if Ossy was right about his track record. The last thing Abby needed was another man to run around on her. She didn't want that for Chloe or herself. The next man, if there ever was one, would have to be picked by the Lord, and he would have to want both of them.
Was Pat right? Could Duncan have changed that much? Probably not. And strength without integrity and honesty could be very cruel. The real problem was figuring out how she was going to keep her distance from him while working next to him all day.
"Hello, honey." Helen's voice boomed through her door. Chloe was up.
Abby applied the final touches to her makeup and went to the kitchen. She wanted to have time to hold Chloe and prepare her for her day. The curly-headed doll was sitting on her grandmother's lap slowly waking up.
"I want Gramma," was all Chloe had to say to her mother's parting kiss.
The wind was blowing at the MacLeod dock. It was warm at sixty-five degrees and had all the earmarks of a day better spent outside. Abby scanned the parking lot for Duncan's truck. It wasn't there. She suppressed a pang of disappointment and smiled at Debbie as she got out of her car.
They fell in step together as they headed toward the building.
"How's Rachel?" Abby asked.
"Better. She had one of those throw-up flu things. I'm sorry I couldn't be here for you yesterday."
"Oh, it's OK."
"I hear it's better than OK. You got the job, huh?"
"Yes. I got a job. But it's not the one I applied for."
"Oh?" Debbie turned to glance at Abby but didn't slow her stride. "Gee. Gone for one day and I miss everything."
"You didn't tell me you worked for Duncan." Debbie looked puzzled. They stopped a few feet from the door.
"I do. Duncan MacLeod took over when his father died. There's some kind of family hierarchy thing. Angus has been here the longest, but Duncan inherits because he's the oldest."
"Have you met Duncan?"
"No. He's only been back here for a few days. Angus has been running things. I understand that he's been in touch with Duncan, though, through e-mails, that sort of thing."
"Duncan was the guy at church."
"No way."
"Way."
Debbie opened the door. Abby stepped through followed by her friend.
"Well, I'd better get going. Maybe I'll see you for lunch. Do you know where you need to go?"
"Yes."
"Hi, Sandy!" Debbie called as she bopped off to her desk.
Abby walked down the hall to the open door of Angus's office. She was impressed this time more by the family resemblance than his size. The same sandy red hair and brown eyes, though his eyes lacked the warmth that she saw in Duncan's. The idea that she could bump into Duncan any minute thrummed through her body. What would she say to him?
"Come on in, Abby," Angus called to her over a mound of paperwork on his desk. Abby stepped into the office.
"Duncan's going to take you down to the dock to get you started."
She felt him there before she saw him.
"I thought it would help to give you an idea of what we do already for our day cruises. That way you'll get an idea of what we'll be looking for in the new boat," Duncan said placing a hand on her elbow and gently leading her through the door.
"Sounds good." She tried to sound confident despite the electric, spiking nerves that were checking in up and down her back. Fresh air on her face drew her attention from her emotions; just being outside was a blessing. The braid down her back kept the friendly breeze from lifting it off her neck. Three white ferryboats bobbed at the dock. Duncan took large strides to get to them. Abby nearly ran to keep up.
"The boats seem
high. Is it high tide?"
"Just past. The time of the tide changes every day. If it's high tide today at say, eight, then tomorrow high tide will be at eight-forty. It cycles."
"So that's why we hear it on the radio all the time."
"Yep. Now, we don't have the ramps up yet. They're being painted for the new season, so you'll just have to hop across."
Duncan nimbly stepped up from dock to boat. He turned and offered his hand to Abby.
Abby stepped gingerly across and crammed herself next to Duncan on the narrow walkway that led around the entire deck. They were standing in front of a row of box-benches. It was a viewing deck, she surmised. She couldn't imagine how it would feel with ten people on board—let alone the fifty it was supposed to handle.
"How much do you know about boats?" Duncan asked.
"They float."
"That much?"
"I told you that the other day."
"Well, we'd better start at the beginning. This is the stern, or back of the boat. The front is the bow."
"OK."
"Left side is port." He pointed left in case she wasn't sure of her directions.
"Right side is starboard." He pointed right. He showed her everything: things that she was sure she wouldn't need, like where the anchor was kept, to things that she might need to know, like where the life preservers were kept, to the most important thing to her—the storage bins. The whole boat was ringed with them. They were found under the box seats with an even larger one behind the bar counter in the cabin.
"Of course a sailboat isn't this big," Duncan said. They were standing on the bow.
"No, I guess it couldn't be, could it," Abby responded and looked directly into his eyes. They were soft brown in the sunlight. She looked quickly out toward the water.
"Abby, I owe you an apology. I never should have kissed you the other day. It was out of line, and I..." Abby felt her face flame and her thoughts scatter.
"It's OK." She took a step away from him, knelt down in front of a box bin, and stuck her head in one of the compartments.