Tides of Hope (7 page)

S
he was five minutes late.

Craig shifted in his seat at the small table in the café on Main Street, taking a sip of coffee while watching the front door. Kate hadn't sounded all that eager about meeting him for lunch when she'd called last night to discuss his day-care proposal, suggesting they talk on the phone instead. But after he'd told her there was more to the story than appeared on the surface, she relented and had promised to meet him on his lunch hour.

After another five minutes passed, however, he began to wonder if she'd changed her mind. Although Edith had appeared agreeable to his proposal, perhaps Kate preferred to maintain the status quo so her daughter had the older woman's undivided attention. He couldn't blame her for that. But for Vicki's sake he'd hoped—

The front door jangled and to his relief Kate stepped over the threshold. But not the Kate he'd expected. Instead of her customary weekday attire of jeans and a slicker, she wore black slacks, a green turtleneck sweater and a black wool coat. And she seemed a little harried.

Standing, Craig waved at her, and she headed in his direction. Another patron hailed her en route, however, and she
stopped to exchange a few words. By the time she arrived at his table, she was breathless and apologetic.

“Sorry. I got delayed at school.” She slipped into the chair he held, shrugging out of her coat as she spoke.

“School?” He retook his seat.

“I sub at the high school. English, mostly.”

“I thought you ran a charter business.”

“I do. In season. In the off season, I'm a substitute teacher. In case you haven't noticed, the cost of living on the island is high. It's tough to make ends meet with just seasonal work.”

The waiter appeared as Craig digested this new piece of information. Kate had two jobs. No wonder she often looked tired. And stressed.

After Kate ordered a bowl of quahog chowder and he opted for a turkey sandwich, she gave him an expectant look.

“So tell me what it is we need to talk about that couldn't be done over the phone. I have to be back in forty-five minutes.”

Despite his tension, a grin tugged at his lips. “Nothing like the direct approach.”

She lifted one shoulder. “I don't believe in beating around the bush.”

“Yeah. I noticed.” When a soft blush bloomed on her cheeks, he tried to mitigate any implied criticism. “And for the record, I prefer candor.”

She acknowledged his caveat with a quick dip of her head and waited him out.

Stalling, Craig took a sip of water. There wasn't any way to spin this that would put him in a favorable light, and his ego balked at admitting his failings as a father. But his pride was expendable, he reminded himself. Vicki's welfare had to come first.

As he set the water glass carefully back in the ring it had left on the polished wooden table, he folded his hands in front of him. “I assume Edith told you the basics. I'm a single parent, raising a four-year-old daughter.”

“Yes.”

“In our world today, my situation isn't unique. But the reason for it is.” He clenched his fingers, watching as the knuckles whitened. “My wife and son were killed in a boating accident when I was stationed in Hawaii. It happened three years ago. Vicki was fourteen months old.”

Shock rippled across her face. “Oh, Craig…I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat and took another sip of water. “Since then, Vicki has been cared for by nannies in the condo I rented in Washington. In the gap between nannies, my mother filled in.”

He hesitated. Braced himself. Plunged in. “In my grief, I shut myself off from my daughter. She has many of my wife's features, and every time I looked at her she reminded me of everything I'd lost. So I delegated her care to other people. Now, we have almost no connection. But I want to change that. That's one of the reasons I came to Nantucket. For a fresh start.”

He leaned forward intently. “I know it will be an uphill battle, Kate. But I want to give it my best shot. I don't intend to work the long hours I did in Washington, but I do need someone to watch her during the workday. I can go with the day care I have lined up if necessary, but I think she'd do much better with personal attention from someone like Edith. And the icing on the cake would be Maddie. Vicki's never had a playmate, and I think it would do her a world of good to have a friend her own age. So I'm hoping you'll consider my request. For my daughter's sake.”

Several beats of silence ticked by as Kate studied him. At last she took a deep breath. “That's quite a story.”

“I know.” And she hadn't even heard half of it. But that could come later. Maybe.

The waiter delivered their food, giving them both a chance to regroup. Kate picked up her spoon. Dipped it in her soup. Set it down.

For a long moment she regarded him with those intelligent, insightful green eyes. “I'll tell you what. Let's give it a try. If the girls don't get along, or some other problems arise, we can revisit it. Does that work for you?”

Relief poured through him. “Yes. And thank you.”

Her expression softened. “I know how tough it is to be a single parent.”

“Edith told me you'd lost your husband.” He didn't mention the information he'd received from Maddie. “You've done a better job of coping than I have. Maddie seems happy and well-adjusted.”

A whisper of a smile touched her lips. “She knows she's loved. That makes all the difference.”

His stomach knotted. “That's exactly where I've failed with Vicki.”

“Grief can be very destructive.”

So could guilt. But his spoken response was different.

“You're cutting me way too much slack. I was selfish and wrapped up in my own anguish. Vicki deserved better. But I'm determined to do whatever I can to make things right with her. If she'll give me the chance.”

“Children are very forgiving creatures.”

“I hope you're right. In fact, I'm counting on that.” He gestured toward her bowl. “Now eat your soup before it gets cold or you run out of time.”

She picked up her spoon again. “When is Vicki coming?”

“I'm flying to Wisconsin to pick her up this weekend.”

“So you'll need Edith starting a week from today?”

“Yes. I'll give her a call to finalize the arrangements.”

They ate in silence as Craig tried to think of some innocuous topic to introduce to fill the sudden quiet. But he came up blank. Small talk didn't seem to fit their charged relationship.

In the end, Kate rescued him by spooning the last of her
chowder into her mouth and reaching for her purse. “Sorry to have to run. But it looks bad when the teachers are late.”

A speck of the soup's cream base clung to the corner of her lips, and without thinking he reached for her napkin and gently wiped it away. At her muted gasp, however, he jerked his hand back and tucked it in his lap, willing the surge of heat on his neck to stay below his collar.

“Sorry.” He tried for a smile. “There was a little misplaced quahog.”

She positioned her purse in front of her chest. “Thanks. The kids would have had a field day with that. Teacher with egg—or in this case, chowder—on her face.” She rose. “I guess I'll see you around.”

Shooting him a quick, uncertain smile, she hurried toward the exit.

He stood, too, waiting until she disappeared through the door to retake his seat.

When he did, however, his focus wasn't on his barely touched sandwich…but on the faint traces of lipstick that clung to the napkin he'd dropped into his lap.

Fingering the square of linen, he thought about Kate's comment that Maddie knew she was loved. And how that made all the difference.

That wasn't true only for children, Craig reflected. Love had once made all the difference in his life, too, thanks to Nicole. And he yearned to find that kind of love again. To fill the empty space in his heart.

But that wasn't to be, thanks to the part of the story he hadn't told Kate.

The part that proved he never deserved to love—or be loved—again.

His appetite disappearing, he wadded up the napkin, set it on the table and rose, leaving the rest of his lunch—and his futile dreams—behind.

 

Kate took a discreet peek at her watch as Larry Atkins tried to move through the faculty meeting agenda at a brisk pace. But they'd gotten bogged down over a discussion about the deadline for final grades, and now she was late picking up Maddie. Not that Edith would mind. But Maddie would. Her daughter usually watched for her at the window.

Of course, starting next week, she might be less anxious for her mother's return—assuming she got along with Craig's daughter. And there was no reason to think she wouldn't. Not if the daughter was half as charming as the father.

Hard to believe that ten days ago she'd thought of the lieutenant as stuffy and arrogant, Kate mused. After their lunch today, she viewed him as grieving and guilt-ridden.

She also empathized with his loss and understood his guilt. By his own admission, he hadn't handled his daughter well. Yet she admired him for his willingness to acknowledge his shortcomings—and for taking steps to make things right. That spoke well of his character, and—

“Kate? Is that a possibility?”

At Larry's prompt, she pulled herself back to the meeting. All eyes were aimed at her, and warmth spilled onto her cheeks. “Sorry. I missed the question.”

“I was telling everyone that our speaker for the career assembly tomorrow bailed, and I asked if anyone knew of a good replacement. Clarie mentioned she'd seen you at lunch today with the new Coast Guard commander, and she thought you might be willing to ask him to fill in.”

Thanks a lot, Clarie,
Kate telegraphed to her coworker.

The other teacher smirked.

“I don't really know him very well, Larry. Our paths have crossed a few times, that's all.”

The principal sighed and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “We're in a bind here, Kate. I can do a cold call,
but it would be less awkward for both parties if you could put out a feeler. I can follow up with details if he's willing to consider it.”

“It's such short notice,” Kate stalled, trying to think of a diplomatic way to refuse. Considering how his simple touch of her lips at lunch with her napkin had disrupted her pulse, it would be safer to limit contact with the lieutenant.

“But it can't hurt to ask. A lot of these guys have canned speeches available for requests like these. It's just one phone call, Kate. I'll bring goodies from Downyflake to the teachers' lounge tomorrow if you'll do this.”

A chorus of voices erupted, encouraging her to grant the principal's request, and she finally capitulated.

“Okay, fine. I'll call him. But I'm not making any promises.”

“Good enough. Any other business?” When no one spoke, Larry ended the meeting. “I'll wait to hear from you, Kate. You have my home number if you don't reach him until later.”

As the group dispersed, Clarie ambled over. “Sorry to put you on the spot. But I didn't think it would be a big deal. Things looked pretty cozy between you and the lieutenant.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “So what's the scoop on your rendezvous?”

Stuffing her calendar and notebook into her satchel, Kate twisted the latch and stood. “There is no scoop. He wanted to talk to me about having Edith watch his daughter, like she watches Maddie.”

The other woman's face fell. “He's married?”

Kate was tempted to lie but resisted. Besides, she'd be found out eventually. “Was. His wife died.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“I didn't get a lot of detail.” Kate headed toward the door.

“So you're not interested in him, right?” Clarie called after her.

“Right.”

That was the truth, Kate tried to tell herself as she pushed through the door. The pursuit of a new relationship wasn't on her agenda.

But as the door closed behind her and she went to make the call, she couldn't help wondering what it would be like to be romanced by the tall, broad-shouldered lieutenant with the amazing blue eyes.

 

As she stood at the window of the teachers' lounge the next day, watching the relentless rain slash through the dreary landscape, Kate sighed and telegraphed a silent question to the gray heavens:
How come it's never easy, Lord?

No answer came.

None was expected.

God didn't answer questions like that with writing on the sky or in thunderbolts. It all came down to a matter of trust, of believing that all things worked together for good. She knew that. Accepted it.

But she wasn't seeing a whole lot of good in the sudden demise of the timing belt on her twelve-year-old Civic—and the accompanying several-hundred-dollar expense.