Twice in a Lifetime (12 page)
“Consider it a bonus,” Georgia suggested. She pointed off to the side ahead of them. “Look. Bottlenose dolphins.” He leaned forward, watching as two sleek gray dolphins arced through the water, wearing their perpetual smiles as
if they were enjoying themselves.
“It looks as if they’re keeping pace with us.”
“They probably are.” Georgia’s face glowed with pleasure. “They’re very social.”
Her expression moved him. She was in her element here. “You love this.”
“Who wouldn’t?” She gave a sigh of pure pleasure. “I never miss a chance to get out on the water.”
“Then why did you leave?”
She shrugged, turning so that the bill of her cap hid her face from him. “I went where the job was, that’s all.”
He had a feeling that wasn’t all. But he didn’t want to know, remember? He didn’t need to get any closer to Georgia than he already was.
The boat slowed slightly, and she pointed again, as if showing him the sights would keep him off the subject of her personal life. “That’s an osprey’s nest on that post. They don’t seem bothered by all the boat traffic.”
“Wish I’d brought a camera. Your grandmother has Lindsay fascinated with the coastal wildlife. She’s always asking questions I can’t answer.”
“I could take her out sometime. Or you could take her on an organized tour to Capers Island. Kids love that.”
“Capers Island?” Once again, he was sounding ignorant of his new surroundings.
“It’s a state heritage preserve, one of the few untouched barrier islands. What my grandmother has planned for her
property is going to be similar, except that she owns just part of an island.” She swung the boat in a wide semicir-cle. “Which we’re coming up on now.”
The island emerged from the water as they drew closer—a stretch of sandy beach littered with driftwood, dunes covered by wavy sea grass, then the trees: live oaks, palmettos and pines.
Georgia headed straight for it, with no dock in sight. He found he was gripping the side rail.
“Where do we dock?”
“We don’t.” She eased back on the throttle, so that they rocked gently toward the beach. “Actually there is a dock up one of the tidal creeks, but we usually just pull right in to the beach.”
Sure enough, in a moment or two they were on the beach, shoes in hand. Georgia groped in her backpack and pulled out a bottle of insect repellent. “Better douse yourself pretty well. The bugs can be fierce out here.”
Following orders, he rubbed the repellent on every inch of exposed skin and pulled his hat down on his forehead. She did the same, then put the bottle away and slung the backpack on her shoulder.
“Okay, let’s go. Miz Callie says I should show you everything, so we’d best do as she says.”
He fell into step beside her. “Sand, water, dunes… What else do I have to remember?”
Georgia waded into the water, bent, and came up with something in her hand. “Tell her you felt a starfish wiggle.” She put the creature onto his hand, where it tickled gently.
He couldn’t help but grin.
“I remember the first time Miz Callie put one on my hand.” Her smile was soft. “I wasn’t much more than three. First I was scared. Then I wanted to keep it for a pet. She explained that we can enjoy all the wonderful
creatures God created, but that He has put them where they should be.”
The words were simple, but they touched something deep inside him. “She still follows that,” he murmured, thinking of the turtles.
Georgia nodded. Taking the starfish, she stooped to put it gently back where it belonged. “Miz Callie would think this a wasted trip if all you came back with was facts about the case.”
“Well, the case is important. So is my job.”
He’d told himself that concentrating on work would keep him from making a foolish mistake where Georgia was concerned, but with every second, making a foolish mistake seemed more likely.
“I understand.” She tilted her head back as she said the words, looking up at him.
His heart lurched, and he took an instinctive step back. He hadn’t felt like that since Jennifer. He didn’t want to— didn’t expect to, ever feel that way again.
“Do you—does your family often come here?”
If Georgia was disappointed in his reaction, she didn’t show it. She washed her hand off in the surf.
“We did all the time when we were kids. We’d come out for the day, look for turtle nests, fish and kayak. The boys would bring along lines and chicken necks to catch crabs, and we’d end with a crab boil on the beach. I always thought—” She stopped, shook her head. “I guess I thought that would go on forever. But we all grew up, got too busy with lives and careers.”
He couldn’t imagine a childhood that would provide memories like that. “I ought to be doing things like that with Lindsay.”
“You can.”
“She’s shut away from me.” The words came out before
he could censor them. “I didn’t get close enough to her before Jennifer died, and now I can’t break through.”
He shouldn’t have said it. He didn’t—couldn’t—open his heart to anyone.
“You can’t give up.” Georgia leaned toward him, her voice passionate. “She’s still adjusting to life without her mother. She’ll grow to depend on you more and more. You have to believe that.”
Georgia’s brown eyes had filled with such caring that he was drowning in it, sinking into warmth and comfort that he hadn’t known in longer than he could remember. The ice that had encapsulated his heart for so long seemed to shiver and splinter.
She reached out, and her hand touched his arm. Her touch reverberated through him, echoing in his body.
He couldn’t look away from her. The water washed over their feet, warm and caressing, and the sun beat down on them, bringing out the faint freckles that dusted her cheeks.
He touched her shoulder, feeling her skin smooth and warm under his hand, and drew her closer. His heart was pounding in his ears so loudly that surely she must be able to hear it.
He shouldn’t. But he was going to. His lips found hers. For a moment she didn’t respond. Then she leaned into the kiss, her hands on his arms, her face tilted to his. She tasted like salt and sunshine and the mysterious ocean, and
he didn’t want to let her go.
Georgia couldn’t be sure who drew back first. Was it her, or was it Matt? Given the fact that she still leaned toward him, her heart thudding, she suspected she hadn’t done it.
She forced herself to look into his face, half-afraid of
what she might read there. He was gazing down at her, his hands still warm on her arms, an expression that mingled surprise and concern in his eyes. He must be as startled by what had happened between them as she was.
The moment stretched out, the silence growing, weighted with meaning. One of them should speak, but she felt intuitively that whatever was said now could affect their relationship for a long time to come.
“I…” She stopped, clearing her suddenly parched throat. “I didn’t expect that.”
Didn’t she? Certainly she had been aware of the strong current between them, like the tide running high.
Had she ever felt anything like that with James? Even the thought seemed disloyal to James. She’d loved him, hadn’t she? But she couldn’t ignore this.
Matt raised one hand to brush a wisp of hair back from her face, his touch as gentle as the breeze. His fingers lingered for a moment against her skin.
Then his hand dropped to his side, and he took a step back, his expression suddenly guarded.
“I didn’t, either.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His smile flickered faintly. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it. But Lindsay—”
“It’s too soon,” she said quickly. “For me, too.”
She tried to picture James’s face, but the image was fading. He’d never been part of her life here—that was why. He represented Atlanta and the pressure cooker that had been their business routine. He had no place in island life, attuned to the rhythm of the sea.
“Right.” He took a breath, running his hand through his sun-streaked hair as if trying to clear his mind. “We’re agreed, then.”
She nodded, trying to ignore a spasm of hurt that he could dismiss it so readily. “We should get on with the tour.”
He fell into step with her as she started down the beach. Despite what he’d said, he reached for her hand, surpris-ing her. His fingers entwined with hers so that they were palm to palm, and every fiber of her body seemed to react to the strength of his hand.
She forced herself to concentrate. “This could be similar to Capers Island, if that’s Miz Callie’s idea.”
“She’s told me she wants it preserved in as natural a state as possible.” He frowned a little. “But she wants some sort of marker as a dedication to your great-uncle.” Georgia tried not to wince. “Just ahead you can see the highest part of the island. That seems the logical site for
something like that.”
Matt looked where she pointed, at the gentle rise of land beyond the dunes, where the trees began. Then his gaze shifted, and he stared at the beach ahead with an awed expression. “What on earth is that?”
The disbelief in his voice made her smile. She’d forgotten how strange the sight was the first time someone came upon it.
“The boneyard—that’s what the locals call it.”
“I can see why.” Matt approached the closest downed tree, its massive trunk bleached white and rubbed as smooth as a bone by the water and the sun. “It looks like a dinosaur graveyard.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Pleased at the comparison, she grasped a branch and pulled herself up to sit on it. “I remember having dreams—nightmares, really—after the first time I came here. Cole told me some wild story about how it really was a graveyard, and naturally I believed him.”
Matt seemed to be counting the numbers of downed trees that covered the stretch of beach. “But what caused this? Why did all these trees end up here? A storm?”
She shrugged. “Not necessarily. The coast is constantly changing—washing away in one place, building up in another. You just notice it more on the outermost barrier islands.” She ran her hand along smooth, sun-warmed wood. “Something about the way the tide flows makes downed trees wash up here. Eerie, isn’t it?”
“I’ll say.” He hoisted himself up next to her. “I’m beginning to see why this piece of land is such a treasure to Miz Callie.”
“It’s been in her family for quite a few generations.” She hesitated. “You have to understand, nobody has designs on it. They’d all be happy to see her donate it to the state or turn it into a nature preserve.”
“The name is the problem.”
“Yes. I wish I could see a happy ending with all of this, but I can’t. Just a major family row.” She shivered a little, in spite of the heat of the sun.
His hand, planted on the trunk, brushed hers lightly. “That really upsets you.” It was a statement, not a question.
She tried to smile. “I hate battles. I’ve never been good at confronting people. The thought makes me want to hide under the bed.”
He was silent for a moment.
“Is that what went wrong with your engagement?” he finally asked.
She couldn’t possibly take offense at the question, not when his voice was filled with such caring.
“Maybe that was part of it.” Would it have made a difference if she had been angry instead of hurt, if she’d lashed out at James instead of running away?
She hesitated, Matt’s question echoing in her heart. She’d thought she didn’t want to talk about it, but the urge to tell him was strong.
“If I’m out of line…”
She shook her head. “It’s all right.” She tried to smile. “I’m afraid it’s a pretty clichéd story, though.”
“Another woman?”
“James wasn’t tempted by other women. What drove him was being successful.” Even as she said it, she knew how true that was. Why hadn’t she seen it sooner—before she was engaged, for instance?
“Plenty of people want to be successful.” Matt said the words mildly enough, but she could hear an edge under them, as if she’d criticized him.
She stared down at her feet, bare and sandy, dangling from the branch. “That’s true. I just don’t think that excuses claiming someone else’s work as your own.”
His fingers brushed the back of her hand. “Yours?”
She nodded, not wanting to look at him. “Maybe it wasn’t as big a deal as I thought. Maybe I made too much of it. But when I realized what he’d done—well, I just couldn’t look at him the same way again. And then, when something went wrong with his project, he laid the blame on me. Which accounts for my current jobless state.”
“I didn’t realize. What did he say when you confronted him?”
She swallowed. “I didn’t. I couldn’t.” She shot a sideways glance at him. “I told you I wasn’t any good at confrontation.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You didn’t seem to have any trouble confronting me.”
Georgia laughed. “That was different. I thought you were trying to cheat my grandmother.”
“And you’d do anything for her.”
“Of course.” She might doubt herself in other ways, but she never doubted her commitment to Miz Callie.
His arm came around her shoulders, holding her close, warm and strong. Comforting.
The words came out on an impulse. “You aren’t the person I thought you were.”
His smile reached his eyes, lighting them. “Neither are you, Georgia Lee. Neither are you.”
