Moondance Beach (11 page)

But after four trips to Moondance Beach, he’d found nothing. No Lena. No fantail. Aside from spending time with slimy seaweed and dead jellyfish—and feeling sand crabs skitter across his face—he’d come away empty-handed. Duncan decided he would give it one more shot,
and if nothing happened, he’d let the whole strange episode go, just file it away with all the other weird shit he’d witnessed in his thirty-four years. He was leaving for Virginia in two days, anyway.

On the night of his last recon, he decided to swim again. It was the last thing he’d expected, but the swim became a kind of meditation. As he cut through the water, each lungful of air propelled him against the current. His body fell into a rhythm. His mind emptied. He felt stillness even as his speed increased. And at some point, about a half mile from Lena’s private beach, his emotions exploded. Duncan sobbed as he swam, never losing his momentum. For the first time since the ambush, he cried for Justin and all his teammates. He cried because of how unfair it was, what a fucking waste of life. Exceptional human beings were dead, and it shouldn’t have happened. But it had.

As he turned toward shore, Duncan was grateful that he’d had his breakdown in solitude, in the dark, in the waves, where no one could possibly hear him and where his flood of tears spilled unnoticed into the Atlantic.

He hopped the private fence, took his place in the sand, and waited. Nothing. No dolphins, no whales, and no naked women. There was nothing but a gentle July breeze and the in-and-out breath of the waves.

He woke with a start as the tide began tickling his toes. The sun hummed lightly against his eyelids.
Some Navy SEAL you are
, he thought, pushing himself to a stand and stretching. He froze.

All around were fresh footprints—dainty female footprints in the sand.

Twenty-three years ago . . .

“W
hy did Grandmother say you were a witch?”

Lena’s mother dropped the string bean in midsnap. Her hands hovered over the large glass bowl as if she had forgotten how to move, her eyes staring out the window over the kitchen sink.

“Mãe?”

When her mother answered, her voice was strangely flat. “Adelena, I have explained that your grandmother was angry that your father left. She needed to blame someone, so she blamed me. Sometimes people try to make themselves feel better by hurting others.”

“But why did she call you a
witch
?”

Her mother quickly dried her hands with a kitchen towel and lifted Lena off the stool. Her grip felt too tight against her ribs.

“Where are we going?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

It was an unusual thing for her mother to do in the middle of a summer day. She was always busy at the Safe
Haven, but she had been working even harder lately. She said she was afraid she might lose her job because the fishing company had closed. Mother said the Flynns used to be very rich, back in the old days, but weren’t anymore and might have to turn the mansion into a hotel.

Lena knew this already, because she sometimes heard Mona and Frasier in the first-floor parlor, talking in whispers that could be heard all over the first floor.

Lena’s mother held her hand firmly and walked to the mudroom, where she grabbed their sun hats. Then they headed out the door and across the lawn. In the last year, Lena had grown used to living in the huge old house by the ocean, but every once in a while, like on summer days as perfect as this one, she would find herself blinking a lot, amazed that this was the place she got to call home.

She had discovered that if she stood in the right spot, the Safe Haven looked like a castle. It had five skinny, pointy towers. Her favorite was the one that looked in the opposite direction of town. She liked to climb up to the top floor, sit on the dusty wood floor of the empty, circular room, and stare out at the blue water and the wild fields that curved around the other edge of the island. It was a place where hardly anybody lived, which she thought was strange. People on Bayberry were always worried about weeds and uncut grass, because they thought the tourists wanted everything neat. But if Lena were a tourist, she’d rather visit a place that was wild and natural.

“Where are we going?”

“To the beach.”

Lena’s head snapped around, and she stared at the
side of her mother’s face. In the last year, her mother had stood in the sand just once, and that was because she was in charge of the food for the festival clambake. As much as Lena wanted to ask her mother the reason for the sudden walk on the beach, she decided against it.

She had a feeling that today would be about listening.

“I think you are old enough now,” her mother announced, once their feet were in the sand.

“I’m eight.”

“I know,
menina
.” Mother pulled her against her side. She could feel and hear her body let go with a heavy sigh.

“Do you remember the legend of my village? The one I told you about before we came here?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you remember.”

Lena concentrated. “There was a man who went out to fish one day and suddenly knew he had to go to one certain spot, a place he’d never fished before. He fished and fished and didn’t catch anything. Then, just when he was about to go home, he pulled in a net and there was a beautiful, red-haired mermaid.”

“Hmm. And what did she tell him?”

“That she had been waiting for him.”

They walked together along the beach, dodging Frisbees and Nerf balls and letting the water wash over the tops of their feet. “And what else did she tell him?”

“She said that if he was brave enough to cut out her gills, she would grow legs and become his wife.”

“Mmm-hmm. That’s right.”

Lena waited. She thought her mother was getting ready to tell her something, but it seemed like forever before she spoke again.

“In our village, people thought the women in my family were descended from that mermaid. For more than two hundred years, my female ancestors were accused of having special powers.”

“Like what?”

Her mother shrugged. “Well, back then, if a woman was very wise in a certain way—like with using plants for medicine or healing sick people—the people in charge of the church and the town would get uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“Because women weren’t supposed to be in charge of anything back then.”

“Well, that’s silly.”

Her mother laughed and hugged her tighter. “Very silly, indeed, Lena. But sometimes it came to a sad end for these women. Some were accused of being seductresses and witches and were hanged.”

Lena stopped walking. Almost immediately she began to cry.

“Oh,
menina
, I know it is terrible, but those sort of things don’t happen anymore. People are smarter now and know more about science and how the world works. But . . .”

Lena waited, sniffling. “What, Mama?”

“The women in my family still had to deal with that old story. It followed us around over the years. I was the only girl in my family, and my parents decided when I was twenty that it would be best if I went to America. I did. And four years later, I married your father and moved into his mother’s home. I never would have talked about it with your grandmother, but I did tell your father and he shared it with his family.”

Suddenly, everything made sense. Lena broke out into a smile. “So it was that old story? That’s what Grandmother was talking about?”

“Yes. But that is all behind us. You will never have to worry about that because you are not in my village. You are American. And you carry your father’s name. The connection has been broken.”

Lena stayed quiet for many moments, letting everything sink in. In one way, it was exciting to think there were witches in her family—that she might be a witch, too!—even if they were only pretend witches. But in another way the story made her feel sad for her mother. She had to run away because of the wrong things people thought of her. First she ran to Rhode Island, and then she ran to Bayberry Island.

Lena felt her eyes widen. “Did you come here because of the mermaid legend?” Lena was half expecting her mother to laugh and tell her what a silly thing that was to say. But how she answered surprised Lena.

“I think in some ways, yes. I have nothing against stories of mermaids. I think they are beautiful stories. I just don’t want people talking about me being one of them. Trying to convince people you’re not a witch or a seductress gets tiring.”

“How did you know to come here?”

For the first time during the walk, Lena’s mother looked down at her daughter and smiled a big, beautiful smile. “I saw a news story about the festival and I thought, now, that looks like a pretty place. Those people seem very full of joy. They have a sense of humor. And I thought that a place with beauty, legends, joy, and a sense of humor sounded perfect for us.”

“Oh.” They walked for a little longer. Her mother started humming one of her Portuguese songs. And Lena remembered there was one other question she had.

“Mama? What is a seductress?”

“Oh my goodness!” Her mother glanced at her watch. “We’d better be heading back to the house. We have green beans to snap!”

R
owan was beyond exhausted. It never failed to amaze her how one eighteen-pound, nine-month-old human could rule the lives of everyone around her. All Rowan wanted to do was sleep—plop her face into the exquisite softness of her pillow, curl up next to her husband, and close her eyes.

Serena had other plans. After sleeping for six hours, she began talking to herself in her crib, which segued into screaming at the top of her lungs so loudly she would wake Ash and the guests. So Rowan left the family’s second-floor apartment near the guest rooms. She came down to the B and B kitchen and closed the doors for sound control. There she would find the tried-and-true antidote to Serena’s unhappiness: the pots and pans. So that was what Rowan was doing at nearly three in the morning on the Wednesday before festival week—pacing back and forth across the big kitchen, with every light blazing, so that Serena could point at, coo, and converse with the sparkling stainless-steel cookware suspended from the pot rack.

“Aren’t you just the most brilliant baby ever?” Rowan
nibbled kisses along her neck and cheek until she squeaked with happiness. Serena began jumping up and down in Rowan’s arms, reaching out so she could touch a sauté pan. She turned to Rowan with shockingly alert blue eyes, pleading, excited, and curious.

“You win, little girlie. Let’s rock ’n’ roll.”

Rowan retrieved the pan, along with a stack of plastic storage containers and three wooden spoons, and sat Serena on the kitchen rug to play. As the happy banging began, Rowan shuffled over to the coffeepot, surrendering to the beginning of yet another ungodly early day.

The pediatrician had assured Rowan and Ash that it was normal for a nine-month-old to wake up and demand stimulation of some kind, and in fact, it was a sign she was reaching a developmental milestone. Rowan filled the coffee filter and hit the power switch, thinking how she, too, was reaching a milestone. Nine months as a mother, and she no longer remembered a time when Serena wasn’t in her life. Or Ash. It was as if she had never been anywhere but with her husband and daughter.

Rowan’s life had changed so fast. This time two years ago, Ash had showed up at the Safe Haven in a rainstorm, needing a place to stay. The Rowan Flynn he’d met at the front desk of the Safe Haven had been bitter and hating life and certainly not expecting anything wonderful to be just around the corner. But in a matter of days, rocky though they were, she was swimming in a sea of contentment and hope. And then came Serena, the most miraculous change of all.

The lesson Rowan had learned: no one ever knows what is right around the corner.

She tipped her head. She had just heard something.
She peered toward Mellie’s apartment, knowing it was too early for her to be up. Maybe she was just using the bathroom. Rowan was about to pour herself an emergency cup of coffee when the door leading to the back stairway creaked open and a set of pretty dark eyes peered into the kitchen.

“Lena?”

Oh, crap. Rowan’s voice had been laced with disbelief and judgment, something she’d not intended. She might as well have said,
What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night?

And Rowan already knew the answer to that question. Thanks to Serena’s sleep issues, she was well aware that something was going on between Lena and Duncan. This was not the first time she’d seen Lena sneak in or out of the Safe Haven in the wee hours, and lately, Duncan had started coming and going in the middle of the night himself. This was the first time Rowan and Lena had come face-to-face, however.

Lena lowered her gaze to the floor. And after a pause and big breath, she pushed the door all the way open and entered the kitchen. When she finally looked at Rowan, there was defiance in her expression.

“Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

Lena glanced around the room, checking to see if anyone else was around. Just then the baby began pounding on the sauté pan with her favorite spoon, and Lena’s gaze flashed to the percussionist sitting on the rug. She broke out into a huge smile and laughed.

“My God, she is so beautiful, Rowan. What a wonderful gift she is.”

Rowan felt her chest flood with pride. “Thank you. We kind of like her.”

Lena laughed again, but suddenly she seemed to remember she was standing in the middle of the Safe Haven kitchen in the wee hours of the morning. Embarrassment clouded her face. “I should go.”

Rowan wondered how she could possibly convince Lena that there was no reason to feel awkward. If she and Duncan were having a good time, then hey, more power to them. Rowan knew all about following your bliss—it’s what she had done with Ash.

“Please don’t go. I would love some company.”

Lena didn’t exactly jump at the invitation. It was understandable. Though they had grown up together in the same house and were about the same age, they had never meshed. There had been several reasons for that.

First off, Rowan had always been a rowdy tomboy—sailing, waterskiing, beach volleyball, swimming, ice hockey, cross-country skiing—while Lena was quiet and reserved. She liked to wander the island by herself, read, or draw. For that reason, their passions didn’t often overlap.

Then there was the Annie issue, of course. Starting in preschool, Rowan and Annabeth Parker had become inseparable. They still were. And though Rowan and Annie never intentionally pushed Lena away when they were kids, she preferred to keep her distance. It was if she knew there was no room for a third best friend.

Lastly, Rowan always suspected that Lena drew a line between herself and the Flynn kids because she was the housekeeper’s daughter, which was something Rowan had never understood. Mellie never made that distinction as far as Rowan knew, and her parents loved Lena like one of their own. Whatever division Lena felt was of her own making.

And now, all these years later, Rowan had come back to Bayberry Island to live and raise a family. Lena was back, too, living and working from a private estate on the island’s North Shore. And yet that old, senseless distance had continued.

Until Duncan came home.

Rowan had seen Lena more in the last two months than she had in the last decade, and if that wasn’t enough to indicate something was going on, Lena had agreed to don a mermaid costume and represent the Safe Haven from the parade float. She had never participated in festival week before, and even Mellie seemed surprised that she’d agreed to cover for Rowan this year. So, as Lena stood there wondering whether to accept Rowan’s offer, there was more at stake than a cup of coffee—she was in the process of coming out of her shell.

“So you know?”

Rowan wanted to tread lightly. “About . . . ?”

“The gifts,” Lena said. “You know that I’ve been the one bringing gifts to Duncan.”

Rowan did her best to hide her surprise. Of course she had always suspected as much when they were kids, but she was sure all the current nighttime coming and going was not just about a few shells and cattails.

“Uh, yeah. I figured it was you back when we were kids. You and Duncan were very close for a while, and I saw how kind you were to him.”

“Who else knows?”

Suddenly, Serena cried out. Rowan hadn’t seen what happened, but the baby now had a red welt forming on her cheek. Her guess was that she had just accidentally whacked herself with the spoon.

“Oh, sweetie. I’m here. Mama’s here.” Rowan bent
down and retrieved the baby, holding her close and stroking her back. She murmured through the sobbing, “It’s okay, darlin’. It’ll feel better in just a minute.”

Lena stood in the doorway, her face twisted in concern for Serena.

“Would you mind holding her for a sec while I get a cool washcloth to put on this boo-boo?”

Lena’s eyes widened. Serena’s howling escalated into great air-sucking sobs.

“It will just take a sec.”

“Of course.” Lena stepped into the center of the room and stretched out her arms. The instant Rowan placed Serena in her care, the baby stopped crying. Serena didn’t even wind down to it; she just stopped. Now the silence rang in Rowan’s ears.

“Well, check that out,” she whispered. “Do you babysit?”

Lena chuckled, beginning to gently sway with Serena as the baby stared at her in awe. “Shhh, little one. See? Mama was right. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

Impressed—and just a little puzzled by how easily Serena had taken to someone she didn’t know well—Rowan ran a linen dish towel under cold water, then wrung it out.

When Rowan turned around, she saw Lena gliding through the kitchen, singing softly. The melody was somewhat melancholy and Rowan didn’t understand the words, which were Portuguese, but Serena’s face was lit up with wonderment. She began giggling.

When Lena realized Rowan was watching, she went still and stopped singing. “Oh. Here you go.” She tried to peel Serena from her embrace, and the baby started to cry again.

“Do you mind sitting with her for a bit? She’s clearly
very happy in your arms. Here—just hold this against her cheek if you don’t mind.”

Lena took a seat at the kitchen table with Serena, smiling like she’d just won the lottery. The baby relaxed against her and laid her head on Lena’s chest. She didn’t even fuss about the cool towel that Lena pressed against her skin.

Rowan turned toward the coffeepot and smiled to herself—that pair was the cutest thing ever. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Both, please.”

By the time she brought two mugs to the table and sat across from Lena, Serena’s eyelids were growing heavy.

Lena looked up at Rowan with a pleading expression and whispered, “Who else knows about the gifts?”

“Nobody that I’m aware of.”

“No one?”

Rowan knew the “no one” in question was Duncan. “If he knows it’s you, he hasn’t said anything. And I’ve never mentioned my suspicions to Clancy or even Annie. But my mother—”

“Oh,
great
.”

Rowan snickered. “I told her my suspicions when I was little, and she told me she’d figured it out a long time before I did. Then she told me not to tell anyone, and I haven’t.”

Lena nodded seriously.

“How could she not know? Ma watched over Duncan like a hawk back then. But I don’t think she would ever make a big deal of it or do anything to embarrass you, Lena. And she clearly has never told him.” Rowan waited for a reaction from Lena but didn’t get one. “Does
your
mother know?”

She nodded. “Of course. She watched me like a hawk back then, too. But she doesn’t know that I know that she knows. And she doesn’t know that I know that you and Mona know.”

The women laughed softly, careful not to disturb the very peaceful baby in Lena’s arms.

“People can be so ridiculous sometimes,” Rowan said.

Lena smiled. “This is true.”

“So.” Rowan fiddled with her coffee cup. “Are you ever going to tell Duncan that it’s been you all along?”

Lena’s pretty face flushed bright red. “I . . . No. I want him to figure it out. He needs to put two and two together.”

Rowan tipped her head to the side, deciding how to phrase her next question, since not only was it a delicate topic, but it really wasn’t any of her business.

“Lena, are you hoping this leads to something long-term? I only ask you this because . . . well, I don’t want you to be hurt, and sometimes Duncan can be such a . . .” Rowan searched for an alternate word for “dickhead.” “He’s a very intense guy. He’s focused on only one thing.”

“I know.”

Rowan took a sip from her cup. “I didn’t realize you two have been keeping in touch over the years.”

“We haven’t.”

Okay, now she was totally lost. “So you’ve only recently reconnected?”

Lena’s mouth turned up in a mysterious smile and her eyes sparkled. Rowan had always thought Lena was a pretty woman, but in that instant, she saw a spectacularly beautiful woman—a woman in love.
With Duncan Flynn
. Rowan swigged some more coffee, just to keep her mouth occupied.

“Not yet.”

“Not . . .
what
?”

Lena tucked her chin to her chest and checked on Serena, now asleep. “I know it sounds strange,” she said, looking at Rowan again. “But Duncan doesn’t know how I feel about him—how I’ve always felt. And I . . .” She shook her head. “If he doesn’t figure it out soon, then I don’t think he ever will.”

Rowan couldn’t help it—her mouth fell open in shock. She tried to piece the story together in her head, but it was a strange one, indeed. Lena was sneaking gifts into Duncan’s room the way she had as a kid, but he was as clueless as ever that it was her. Lena had real feelings for him. But the two of them hadn’t reconnected.

“Um, have you spoken to him since he’s been back?”

“No.”

“But you want to, right? You want to get to know him again?”

Lena laughed, causing Serena to stir. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay. So
do
you?”

“Of course.” She smiled shyly. “But I’m not the kind of woman who follows a man around town and pretends to run into him at the squash stand at the farmers’ market or something ridiculous like that.”