Tides of Hope (17 page)

“Okay. I want everybody below. Jack, there are some blankets down there. Do what you can to warm up Marcus. I'll get us back to the wharf as fast as I can.”

After shepherding the trio into the cabin, Kate grabbed her slicker, slipped it on and revved up the
Lucy Sue'
s engines. Turning hard to starboard, she pulled back on the throttle and set a straight course across Nantucket Sound, heading for the entrance to the harbor.

As the wind whipped past, she began to shiver. Partly from cold and exposure. Partly from reaction. But mostly from anger.

Thanks to irresponsible behavior, lives could have been lost today. Including hers. And drowning at the hands of a drunk wasn't in her plans.

But if the incident angered her, it also reminded her that God made the choices about when and how a life ended. And
they didn't always mesh with human plans. He'd taken Mac in a way no one had expected—and far sooner than anyone would have chosen. Today, He could have called her home. Instead, He'd spared her. Perhaps because there was more He wanted her to do. More He wanted her to experience.

And maybe part of that
more
was Craig, she speculated as Brant Point Light and the Coast Guard station came into sight. Maybe today's incident was a wake-up call. A reminder that fear and worry don't change the future; they only rob today of joy.

As she eased into her slip on Straight Wharf, Kate mulled over that thought. If she let fear hold her back, she could avoid the pain of loss. But she would also eliminate the transforming grace of love that made life worth living.

She'd known that grace once, with Mac. And despite the hole his death had left in her life, if she had it to do again—knowing her time with him would be short—she'd still marry him. He'd enriched her life in immeasurable ways.

Shaking from the cold and fumbling with the lines as she secured them to the cleats on the pier, Kate reached a decision. She was going to vanquish fear and remain open to the possibilities with Craig.

And she intended to tell him that.

Just as soon as she got out of these wet clothes, downed some aspirin to dull the throbbing pain on the right side of her face and put some ice on the eye that had swollen half shut during her enlightening ride home in the
Lucy Sue
.

A
s Craig exited the Hy-Line Cruises office after a meeting to discuss new passenger safety regulations, he paused to scan Straight Wharf. With the high season poised to begin in earnest, the slips were filling up and far more people were milling about than the day he'd first come down here a few weeks ago to tell Kate he was rescinding her safety citation.

The thought of her brought a smile to his face—for two reasons. First, he just liked thinking about her. But second, the irony of their situation struck him as humorous. If someone had told him a few weeks ago that he was going to find himself falling in love with the red-haired spitfire who'd stormed into his office, he'd have laughed.

God, it seemed, had a sense of humor about such things.

As he started to turn away, his smile still in place, a glimpse of red hair caught his eye. Kate. She must have taken a spin in the
Lucy Sue,
he assumed as he watched her secure a line to her finger pier.

But something didn't look quite right.

His smile faded as he squinted at the distant figure, trying to determine what was wrong with the picture. Her movements were rather stiff, he noted, as she rose. And her hair was
wet. Not damp and frizzy from salt spray, but dripping wet. As if she'd just been caught in a downpour.

Since that explanation seemed unlikely, he came to the only other reasonable conclusion.

She'd taken an unplanned dip in the ocean.

Craig doubted she'd fallen overboard. Kate was experienced on the water. And she was careful. Besides, the sea was fairly placid, despite the dark clouds accumulating overhead. Could she have had another problem with the
Lucy Sue?

As he pondered her drenched condition, she shifted position, giving him a side view of her face. And despite the distance, he couldn't miss the discolored skin.

She was injured.

His pulse tripping into double time, Craig changed direction and strode down Straight Wharf toward the
Lucy Sue,
keeping Kate in sight. He saw her gesture toward the cabin of her boat, and though he was too far away to hear what she was saying, the rigid profile of her jaw and her taut posture communicated anger.

The situation looked volatile, and Craig lengthened his stride, watching as three figures emerged onto the deck. Two were attired in shorts and T-shirts, and the third was wrapped in a blanket. They started to approach the stern, and Kate waved them back. Now he could make out her words.

“Stay on deck until I have the boat secure!”

The underlying shakiness in her words unnerved him. She sounded close to losing it.

As the three young men moved toward the stern again, she raised her voice. “I said stay back! I'm not fishing anyone else out of the drink, okay?”

That explained her drenched condition. She'd taken these three guys out and one of them had fallen in, Craig concluded.

But it didn't explain her bruises.

As she turned toward him to secure the last line, the
straight-on view chilled him. Her right cheek was puffy and discolored, and her eye was swollen more than half shut.

Breaking into a jog, Craig drew up beside the boat as she tightened her last knot and rose.

“Craig!” She took an involuntary step back, and he reached out to steady her. “What are you doing here?”

“I had some business on Straight Wharf and I saw you in the distance. What's going on?” Without releasing her, he shot a narrow-eyed look at the three young men in the boat.

She shoved her wet hair back with a trembling hand. “These customers brought along bottles of water. Only it wasn't water. By the time I figured that out, they were drunk. One of them fell in. I had to go in after him.”

“What happened to your face?” His stomach clenched as he examined her bruised skin and puffy eye.

“He tried to use me as a flotation device.”

As a rescue swimmer, Craig had dealt with more than his share of panicked people in the water. He'd seen otherwise-loving husbands practically drown their wives trying to stay afloat. He'd seen scrawny people develop superhuman strength when faced with their own demise. He'd had to fight off adrenaline-empowered victims who'd clung to him with such ferocity they'd put not only their life, but also his, in danger.

Those situations were covered in rescue-swimmer training. Still, it was a dangerous situation. A terrorized person, no matter how puny, could sometimes overcome even a strong, well-trained swimmer.

And the guy with the blanket draped over him wasn't puny by a long shot, Craig noted. Topping six feet, he had the build of an athlete.

Leading Craig to the obvious conclusion.

He could have killed Kate.

Based on the tremors his hand was absorbing, she'd come
to the same conclusion, Craig deduced. Nor was her shaking being helped by the cooling air and growing wind.

His training kicked in, and Craig switched to official mode. “Do you have a change of clothes in the cabin?”

“Yes.” Her teeth were beginning to chatter.

Stepping down into the boat, he held out his hand to her. “Put them on.”

“I can ch-change when I g-get home.”

“You need to do it now, Kate. You know better than to stay in wet clothes with the temperature dropping.” He gentled his voice, but he didn't back down.

To his relief, she didn't argue. She placed her ice-cold hand in his and, with his support, reboarded.

He waited until she pulled the cabin door shut behind her. Then, planting his fists on his hips, he leveled a cold, hard glare at the three offenders, blocking their exit.

“How old are you?”

“We're all over twenty-one,” the dark-haired kid responded.

“Let's see your driver's licenses.”

They fished them out, and Craig scanned the dates of birth. Too bad he couldn't get them for underage drinking. They were legal—barely. But he didn't intend to let him simply walk away. Not after hurting Kate. Not after what could have happened.

Taking a notebook out of his pocket, he jotted down the information from their licenses. Then he folded his arms across his chest and pinned them with a scathing look until they squirmed and dropped their gazes.

“Let me tell you
boys
something. Alcohol and water don't mix. You—” he pointed to the kid draped in the blanket “—could be dead. So could the captain. Did you get a good look at her face? You hit her hard enough to knock her out. I don't think I have to tell you where you'd be if you had.

“As for you two—” he addressed the victim's buddies
“—if Captain MacDonald had been overcome by your friend here, and you'd decided to play hero, trust me. All three of you would probably be fish bait.”

The dark-haired kid swallowed. Hard. The middle one cringed. The one wearing the blanket blanched.

Good, Craig thought. Point made.

“In case you boys don't know, I'm with the U.S. Coast Guard. We risk our lives every day to save people who get in trouble on the water. But we don't have a lot of patience for stupidity.”

Craig's dressing down had a sobering effect on the trio. When the dark-haired kid spoke, he sounded contrite—and lucid.

“We're really sorry about this, sir.”

“We didn't mean to cause any problems. We were just celebrating the end of the semester and…well…I guess we got a little carried away,” said the kid in the blanket.

“We'll pay for any damages,” the third one offered.

“Money doesn't fix everything.” He folded his arms across his chest again. “But it will help with her medical expenses. Her next stop is the E.R. I presume you boys will cover that.”

“No problem,” the dark-haired one said.

“I've got your addresses. Give me some phone numbers, including cells.”

As they complied, Craig jotted them down. Tucking the notebook back in his uniform pocket, he jerked his head toward the pier. “I suggest you go home and sleep it off. And you—” he addressed the kid in the blanket, snagging it from around his shoulders as he spoke “—get out of those wet clothes. I assume I don't have to tell you not to drive.”

“We walked down from the hotel,” the dark-haired kid said.

“Good.” Stepping aside, he allowed them to scramble out of the boat. They took off down the wharf at a trot, disappearing from view in seconds.

That's when his own reaction set in.

Grasping the rail with both hands, Craig forced himself to take several slow, deep breaths as he faced the truth.

Kate could have drowned today.

Just like Nicole and Aaron.

The very thing he'd convinced himself could never happen again had almost happened. History had come close to repeating itself.

His original instinct—to avoid getting involved with a woman who made her living on the sea—had been sound after all, he conceded grimly.

But it was too late for second thoughts now. She'd already invaded his life—and his heart. Like it or not, they were involved.

How was he supposed to deal with that?

“Craig?”

At the summons, he turned. Kate had emerged from the cabin, but she looked shakier than before as she clung to the edge of the door.

“I checked out my face in the mirror. I wish I hadn't.” She tried to smile, but couldn't pull it off. “Wow! What a shiner.”

Craig moved beside her and took her upper arms in a gentle grip. Angling her toward the light, he inspected the bruises marring her creamy skin, his gut clenching. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No.”

He ran his fingers lightly over the swelling on her cheek. “This needs medical attention.”

“They're just bruises.” She tried to pull away. “I'll heal.”

He didn't relinquish his hold. “I'm taking you to the E.R.”

“No way.”

“Come on, Kate. It's better to be safe. You might have damage to your eye. Or facial fractures. Did you black out?”

“No.” Her breath hitched. “But I thought…he pushed my face in the water and…I know he was just scared…it wasn't intentional…but my lungs started to burn and…I kept thinking
of Maddie.” Her voice broke and tears welled in her eyes. She lifted her hand and swiped at one that spilled over. “Sorry.”

Despite her dry clothes, deep, convulsing shudders rippled through her. And when she dipped her head and drew a ragged breath, Craig knew she was fighting a losing battle to stifle her sobs. While he might be wrestling with new doubts about their future, there was no way he could stand here, his hands absorbing the tremors in her body, and not follow his heart.

Pulling her close, he tenderly wrapped her in his arms. With his hand cradling her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, he gently pressed her uninjured cheek to his chest. “You're okay now. Take some deep breaths,” he murmured.

He held her until her respiration slowed and her shaking subsided. When at last she eased back, he let her go. “Humor me on the trip to the E.R., Kate.”

“I can't. The last time I had to take Maddie there it cost six hundred dollars.”

He should have known money was the reason she'd balked. “You don't need to worry about that. Your customers are footing the bill.”

Her eyebrows rose. “How did you manage that?”

He shrugged. “The uniform carries a certain intimidation factor. And I expect guilt played a role. As it should.” A muscle in his jaw clenched as he regarded her battered face.

“In that case, I guess it wouldn't hurt to get checked out.”

Stepping onto the finger pier, Craig extended his hand to Kate. She took it, grimacing as she transferred her weight from the boat to the wharf.

“Are you sure you're not hurt anywhere else?”

“No. Just achy.” She tucked her arm in his as they traversed Straight Wharf. “But as long as I can lean on you, I'll be okay.”

Her comment was like a jab in the gut. Because while Craig knew he could give her physical support to the E.R., he
was no longer confident he had the courage to make the kind of emotional investment that could bankrupt his soul if he loved—and lost—again.

 

Two hours later, an ice pack from the E.R. pressed against her eye, Kate frowned as Craig walked her to her door.

Something was very wrong.

He'd withdrawn. Not in a physical sense. He'd stayed with her through the whole E.R. ordeal. But he was distancing himself emotionally.

And it didn't take a genius to figure out why, Kate concluded. He'd told her once he had concerns about getting involved with a woman who made her living on the sea. She thought he'd managed to put those to rest in the past few weeks. But today they must have resurfaced with a vengeance.