Carolina Home (9 page)

“Suzy Warner told me Pam Gordon saw you two together at the Fish House last night.”

Allison’s thoughts scrambled like students at the end-of-day bell. Suzy Warner, Social Studies, the biggest
mouth in school. Pam Gordon, mother of Lindsey. Her daughter was in Allison’s fourth period class with Joshua Fletcher.

Her stomach sank. Lightly, she said, “Well, we were there. But we’re not seeing each other. He gave me a ride home, that’s all.”

And flushed at the memory of Matt smiling at her, saying,
I picked you up, I bought you a drink, I brought you home
.
What am I missing?

“Mm.”
Gail gave a little hum of acknowledgment or interest. “Bill at the bike shop said you had a flat.”

“Er…yes.” Allison dunked her tea bag up and down. Was it only yesterday she was complaining about not being part of the island grapevine? “Matt stopped to help me.”

Gail turned from the sink. “And you just happened to wind up at the Fish House.”

Her hand in his shirt, his tongue in her mouth, the sound of her breathing loud in the stillness…

Allison’s face heated. She liked Gail, a comfortably upholstered woman with a sharp brain and an easygoing disposition. But they’d known each other less than a month. Not really long enough to confide the details of that hot, groping kiss in the front of Matt’s pickup.

“Is that a problem?” she asked.

“Not for me.” Gail filled her mug—
MATH TEACHERS KNOW ALL THE ANGLES
—from the staff coffeepot. “You’re both grown-ups. Unattached. But…” She looked around the lounge, as if the two teachers deep in conversation on the other side of the room could hear.

Allison nodded.
But.

“It’s not a good idea for a teacher to date the parent of a student,” Allison finished for her.

Gail tipped in milk. “I’d say that depends on the teacher and the parent. This is a small island. You can’t avoid personal connections with the students in your classroom. If
they’re not your kids, then they’re your neighbor’s or your cousin’s or your mechanic’s. It’s not against school policy for you to have a social life as long as you’re impartial in the classroom.”

“So it’s not an issue if I date a parent.”

“Not unless you make it one. It’s just…” Gail’s round, pleasant face creased.

“What?”

“Like I said, there’s been talk. The Fletchers are a hot topic around here. Well, especially now, with Luke showing up like that yesterday with his little girl.”

“Who?”

“Luke, Matt’s brother. He didn’t tell you about that?”

Dumbly, Allison shook her head. “We just had one beer.”

One kiss.

“So you don’t really know him very well.”

Allison stuffed away the memory of her own voice stammering,
I don’t know you
.
I don’t jump into things with someone I don’t know.
Her pride was pricked…along with her curiosity.

“You’re not going to tell me he keeps the bodies of six ex-wives in the attic, are you?”

Gail laughed. “Ha. No. Not that he didn’t have the girls lining up. Both the Fletcher boys always were hot as sin, plus Matt’s got that whole still-waters-run-deep thing going on. Even I was tempted when he came home from Raleigh, and I was already with Jimmy back then. There’s not a woman on the island who hasn’t, you know, thought about him.”

Including the waitress, Allison thought. What’s Her Name. Cindy?
Cynthie.

She arched her brows. “Are you suggesting I take a number?”

Gail grinned and shook her head. “If Matt Fletcher took you to the Fish House, I’d say he’s already moved you to the
front of the line. Our Matt doesn’t date locals. Even his ex-wife…He met her in college, you know.”

“I didn’t know. We didn’t really talk about it.” Carefully, Allison squeezed out her tea bag and set it beside her mug. There were a lot of things Matt hadn’t talked about, she thought, a hollow feeling in her stomach. He certainly hadn’t mentioned college. “What was she like?”

“Kimberly? Smart. Rich. Blond,” Gail said, apparently unaware she could be describing Allison. “Not that we saw much of her. Just that one time she was visiting for Thanksgiving, and less than a year later Matt had dropped out and came home with the baby. And no Kimberly.”

Allison took a hasty sip of tea and burnt her tongue. “What happened?”

Gail shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about it.”

“Imagine,” Allison murmured.

Gail smiled wryly. “Doesn’t stop the rest of us. Not much to do here in the winters but talk.” She hesitated and then added, “Nobody blames him. He’s a good guy, Matt.”

“I’m sure,” Allison said, because Gail so obviously needed reassurance and Allison felt guilty gossiping about Matt behind his back.

“The thing is…” Gail wavered, clearly torn between island loyalty and female solidarity.

Allison waited.

“In all these years, I’ve never known him to date a woman longer than a couple of weeks,” Gail confided. “A couple of months, if she’s here for the summer.”

“Maybe he isn’t over his ex-wife,” Allison suggested.

“He was over Kimberly the day she walked out on him and their baby,” Gail said frankly. “But he hasn’t been in a relationship since. Nothing serious. Nothing long-term.”

“And you’re telling me this because Lindsey Gordon’s mother saw us together at the Fish House?”

“Word gets around.” Gail met her gaze, concern warm in her eyes. “I just thought you should know.”

Allison’s throat constricted. She swallowed, thinking back to that scene in her driveway.

You don’t do one-night stands
, Matt had said to her in that deep, attractive drawl.

At the time, she’d appreciated his respect for her boundaries. She’d actually been grateful for his restraint. His understanding.

And afterward, he couldn’t drive away fast enough.

She felt slightly sick to her stomach. It was one thing to be the subject of gossip. It was much worse, she was discovering, to be an object of pity.

“Thanks. But you don’t have anything to worry about. I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but I’m still finding my feet here. I’m not looking to get carried away.”

Gail nodded, unconvinced.

Allison tried again. “I’ve done the whole hookup scene before. I didn’t find it particularly satisfying or exciting. Next time I get involved, it has to mean something. I want an honest, adult relationship with a man who appreciates me. Who needs me, not just a warm body in bed.”

“Matt’s plenty adult,” Gail said. “By the time he was your age, he was already divorced with a five-year-old child. Which probably explains why he’s not looking for a commitment now.”

“Don’t worry.” Allison smiled. “I’m really not interested in being known as ‘that girl Matt Fletcher used to date.’”

“There you go.” Gail patted her arm. “I told Suzy you were a smart one.”

H
E WAS LEAVING
.

Taylor sat huddled at the kitchen table, glaring from under the rim of her baseball cap at the three men standing at
the door, the old guy Tom and Uncle Matt and her…and Luke in camouflage and boots.

He wasn’t as tall as Uncle Matt, but the uniform made him look wider and scary, like Master Chief in Halo, like nobody would mess with him, and in the week she’d been with him nobody had messed with her, either.

She had never had a dad. She didn’t need a dad. But he was all she had left, and he was leaving.

First she lost Mom. Then she’d lost their house and her little blue bedroom with the crepe myrtle growing outside her window. And then she lost Snowball, because Grandma Jolene was allergic to cats. She had to switch schools and she missed her friends and she missed her life and she really, really missed her mom.

Her chest ached and her eyes hurt, and she felt tired and stiff from sleeping on the floor behind her bed. Her face was stiff, too, like it would crack if she tried to say anything.

“Taylor.” Tess spoke, her voice kind. “They’re leaving for the airport now. It’s time to say good-bye.”

Like she couldn’t figure that out by herself.

That’s why they’d kept her home from school today. To say good-bye.

Her eyes burned and she opened them very wide so she wouldn’t cry. School hadn’t started yet when they buried her mama, but this felt horribly the same, all the grown-ups standing around looking serious and saying stupid stuff like,
Are you all right?
and
You’re such a brave little girl
when she wasn’t brave and things were never going to be all right again.

She didn’t like it here. She didn’t have her own room, and nobody talked about her mom, and they didn’t want her really. But at least nobody rubbed up against her when she wasn’t looking. Nobody was creeping around at night, trying to touch her with hard, damp hands.

Taylor gritted her teeth together so that the howl that was building in her chest wouldn’t sneak out.

Uncle Matt nudged Luke. His shoulders stiffened and then he crossed the kitchen, his big tan boots clomping on the wooden floor, and squatted in front of her chair. His knees stuck out on either side of her legs and his face was level with hers so that she had to look at him. His hat was pulled down low just like hers, but she could still see his eyes, blue and bright.

She swallowed hard.

“Well.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

She would have to, wouldn’t she? Since he was leaving.

“You listen to Grandma and Grandpa,” he continued. “Do good in school. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She scowled at him without saying anything.

Luke pulled off his cap and ran a hand over his short bleached hair. Mad and miserable, she waited for him to get up, to go, but he didn’t move away. Not yet.

He dropped the cap in her lap. It was still warm from his head and it smelled like him, like Luke and tobacco, and her chest got all tight and tears burned the back of her eyes.

“I’ve got to go now,” he said and laid a hand briefly on her knee.

“I don’t care if you go.” The words burst out of her, shocking them both. “I don’t need you. I don’t care if you never come back.”

“Oh, sweetie…” Tess moved closer, but Luke held her back with one raised hand.

“It’s all right,” he said. To which one of them, Taylor wasn’t sure. His eyes met hers. “You may not like it, but you’re stuck with me, kid, whether you need me or not. Stuck with all of us, Grandma Tess and Grandpa Tom, Matt and Josh. They’re all going to be here for you until I get back.”

He lowered his head so that his face was close to hers. “I’m coming back,” he said, low and sure.

Her hands clenched on the cap in her lap.

Don’t go
, she wanted to beg. But nothing she said would make any difference. Ever made any difference.

Memory crashed over her, cold metal rails and beeping, breathing machines, and her mom’s hand, cold and thin, unmoving under hers.
Don’t go, Mommy, don’t leave me
…

Taylor’s jaw wobbled. Her eyes burned. If she opened her mouth, she was going to start bawling.

So she didn’t.

After a minute, he straightened.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry
…

“The kid should come,” Matt said unexpectedly from over by the door.

Luke turned his head. “What?”

“The kid should come with us to the airport.”

“You never did,” Tom said.

“We had a hell of a sight more to hold onto when you’d gone,” Matt replied. “It’s an hour-and-a-half drive to the airport. Even if they say good-bye on the curb, that’s another hour and a half she has with her dad.”

“Truck only holds three.”

“We can take my car,” Tess said.

Luke rolled his eyes. “So now we’re all going?”

“I’d say that’s up to Taylor.” Matt’s gaze sought hers, steady, blue. “What do you want, kid?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. It didn’t make any difference. Luke was still leaving.

Even if they say good-bye on the curb, that’s another hour and a half she has with her dad.

Wordlessly, she slid from her chair.

Luke cleared his throat. “Right. You can ride shotgun with me.”

“I’m not sitting in back,” Matt said like he was Josh’s age.

Luke grinned at him, and something inside Taylor loosened. “This was your idea, bro.”

“You yahoos can ride together,” Tom growled. “Your mother’s in front with me.”

So that’s how they drove to the airport, with Taylor squashed into the backseat between her…between Luke and Uncle Matt and Tess turning around every few minutes with a wink or a pat or a smile.

She was surrounded by Fletchers.

Their legs stuck out on either side of her like the arms of some really big chair, their shoulders warm and close, but for once she didn’t feel trapped. The backseat was wide and comfortable, the vibration of the car soothing. Taylor clutched the field cap in her lap and let her head tip back, her shoulders relaxing against the smooth leather as their voices washed over her.

Six

M
ATT RUMBLED INTO
the school parking lot on his Harley like Stallone in
The Lords of Flatbush
.

Not exactly the image of a responsible guardian for a ten-year-old girl.

But he had no choice. He was already on the boat, prepping for an afternoon run, when the call came in on his cell phone.

“Matt Fletcher?”

He set down the oil, juggled the phone. “Yeah.”

“This is Karen Nelson.”

He searched his mind. There were over a dozen Nelsons on the island, descended, they claimed, from one of Blackbeard’s crew. Like having a murdering pirate in the family tree was something to be proud of. Didn’t Dick Nelson have an older sister named Karen?

“Vice principal for the primary grades at Dare Island School,” she added smoothly. “I’m calling about your niece Taylor.”

The back of Matt’s neck tightened. “Is she sick? Hurt?”

“Taylor is fine. However, it is our policy to notify the parent or guardian when we have to remove a student temporarily from the classroom. I’m afraid Taylor became belligerent with her teacher this morning.”