Beside a Dreamswept Sea (27 page)

“All right.” Bryce gave Lyssie’s back a gentle pat.

The tenderness in his expression brushed over Cally’s heart. Watching Mrs. Wiggins and Lyssie go, Cally imagined Jeremy’s excitement. “Riding a pony. He’ll love it.”

“Most kids would.”

The man hadn’t a clue. “Bryce, Jeremy talks nonstop about horses.”

“He does?” The sling’s band had a red mark circling Bryce’s neck.

Cally adjusted it so it stopped cutting into his skin. “Nonstop.”

“I hadn’t picked up on that.”

Oh, boy. She lowered her hands to her sides. She’d done it again. Telling Bryce something he hadn’t noticed about the kids did raise the man’s hackles. She hated seeing him chewing himself up inside, telling himself he was a rotten parent. Maybe the festivities would—nope. There it was. That self-deprecating snarl. Well, hell.

“Don’t be surprised.” She squeezed his forearm. “Kids’ interests change daily. Sometimes even quicker.”

“I didn’t know that, either.”

“True, Counselor,” she said, deliberately forcing her tone light. “No way can a mere mortal keep track.”

“That’s comforting.” He stroked at his temple. “But these observations make me feel like I’m far out of the loop.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.” He lifted a stone, then tossed it to the ground.

“Look, Counselor. I’m the queen of lousy, so I know rotten when I see it and, when I look at you, it just ain’t there.”

“I would remind you, Miss Tate, that you’re under oath.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Seeing doubt in his eyes bugged her. She wanted that teasing light in them again. She hated loving that teasing light. “I think you’re a wonderful parent, Bryce. I mean that sincerely.” Looping her arm through the crook in his, she gave his forearm a second, reassuring squeeze. “Miss Tate petitions for a brief recess, if counsel has no objections.”

“Counsel reserves the right to know the reason for the recess prior to issuing an opinion.”

Cally slid him a look filled with longing. “A few minutes of peace and quiet. A short walk on the cliffs should do it. If counsel’s knee isn’t too sore.”

Bryce sank his teeth into his lower lip but failed to bite back a smile. “Counsel has no objection whatsoever, Miss Tate.”

They made their way through the maze of people, crossed the street to the shore, then walked down the asphalt street a short way. “Take care, Bryce. The sand makes the road slick.”

“I noticed.” He circled her waist with his arm, tucked her close to his side.

She was about as transparent as Saran Wrap film, but the ploy had worked. He was holding her. She eased her arm around his waist, knowing she should be angry with herself. And she would be . . . later. Right now, she just felt too darn good.

The sounds of the festival faded to those of the ocean. A slatted bench facing the sea looked inviting, and Bryce truly did seem to be having a hard time walking on the slippery sand, leaning more heavily than he had been on both Cally and Collin’s cane.

“Let’s sit for a while,” she suggested. When he nodded, she let go of his arm, sat down, then patted the bench seat for him to join her.

He settled at her side, brushing their thighs, and let out a relieved sigh that proved his knee was giving him fits. Taking his weight off the cane had grains of sand scattering his shoes and faintly pattering. “You earned kudos today, Counselor.”

“What for?” He propped the cane against the end of the bench then leaned back and scanned the frothy ocean.

Cally touched a fingertip to his bare throat. “No tie.”

He looked down at his blue polo shirt, khaki slacks, and casual loafers. “Didn’t have one to match.”

“Ah.” She smacked her lips. He’d be gorgeous in an inflated space suit, or anything else, but in casual clothes, the man fairly robbed her of breath. “And here I was thinking I’d won a little victory.”

He held his gaze on the horizon, and his lips didn’t curve, but the skin near his eyes crinkled in a smile. “Victory acknowledged. You insisted, remember?”

“Yes, I do. But I didn’t think for a second you’d accommodate me.”

“Why not? It was a small request.”

A small request. Oh, how special this man truly was. How very, very special. A little shot of sheer pleasure laced with yearning then darted through her chest. “You do look more comfortable.”

“I am.” He leaned close and dropped his voice to a secretive whisper. “Confidentially, Miss Tate, I hate ties.”

“Honest?”

“Always, darling.”

She hated loving that response. “Then why wear them when you don’t have to?”

“Old habit.” He swung his gaze to her and she sensed that habit had started with pleasing Meriam and just hadn’t faded. “Incidentally, I’ve been wondering. Do you like the way I look?”

“Don’t start, Counselor. We agreed there’d be no more of this proving to me that I’m a desirable woman business.”

He stretched out an arm over the back of the bench and let his fingers draw circles on her shoulder. “For the record, I like the way you look. Very much. And I admit my memory could be faulty, but I don’t recall—”

“Oh, no you don’t. We agreed. Two nights ago, in the hallway. Somewhere around three A.M., I’d say.” She narrowed her eyes. “That was you, wasn’t it, Counselor?”

“It was.” He slid her a frown and held it so she wouldn’t miss it. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“Sorry,” she said, feeling anything but.

“I recall our conversation and agreement, Miss Tate, but I don’t recall its terms including me lying to you. In fact, I’m sure as certain it didn’t. We have a contract, promising honesty, and lying would be in direct conflict—”

“Excuse me?” And he complained about women talking in riddles?

“I agreed I’d not attempt to prove anything to you. I didn’t agree to lie to you about my genuine feelings, or about the way I react to you—i.e., your looks.”

Her heart nearly stopped. Then the fool thing raced like a runaway train. She looked away, out onto the sun-spangled water, and ordered herself to calm down. To not make too much of what he was saying. Then lifted her chin to the cool breeze. “For the record, I don’t like liking this about you, either.”

“Noted.” He rubbed a strand of her hair between his forefinger and thumb.

Gulls circled overhead and waves splashed against the rocky shore. Mist from the sea rose and gathered on her face, cooling it. She wouldn’t think about his remark, she decided. He hadn’t meant anything by it. Not really. Certainly nothing that should have her hormones sliding into overdrive. And even if he had, the man couldn’t know his own mind. He was still celibate, far from satiated, so how could he?

“Darn shame you lost kudos today, Miss Tate.”

She glanced over at him. Her hair whipped over her face. She smoothed it back and cocked her head so the wind would keep the loose strands out of her eyes. “How did I do that?”

He clicked his tongue, cast her a look loaded with disappointment. “You committed perjury.”

“I did?” Had she? Lying ranked atypical, but not impossible. These days, if something cut close to the bone, she’d succumb to a white lie in self-defense. “About what?”

“The boat.”

That she hadn’t expected. More relieved than upset, and even more confused, she hiked her brows in question. “Excuse me?”

“The boat. You said you didn’t want to go to Little Island because you didn’t like boats.”

“I don’t like boats.”

He stared deeply into her eyes. “But that’s not why you didn’t want to go.”

“It wasn’t a lie.”

“Was it the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you?”

“Geez, Counselor. Isn’t there a law against cross-examination during a peace-and-quiet recess?”

“Can you tell me the truth?”

“Is it important?” Something had changed. This wasn’t just playful banter, he was serious. But why?

“It’s important.” The laughter lingering in his eyes faded. “A man needs to know he can trust a woman’s word, just as a woman needs to know she can trust a man’s. Justice—that it works both ways, don’t you think?”

Her face flamed hot. Well, hell. Even a white lie would seem sinister after a lecture like that one. “It wasn’t the boat. I don’t know how to swim and I’m scared to death of water, okay?”

“Okay.” He smiled at her then pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”

She wanted to be angry with him for insisting she answer, but he hadn’t insisted, merely encouraged. And how could she be ticked off at a guy who looked as if he stepped off the pages of
GQ,
had an arm in a sling, a bruise peeking out from his beard, and a busted knee? Discarding, of course, his hinting at finding her desirable. Definitely, inadmissible evidence. She knew it was faked due to special circumstances. It had to be.

How could it not be?

Because she fleetingly wished it weren’t, sadness seeped into her heart, then burrowed down into the secret place inside her that harbored her dreams. For some reason, she thought of Mary Beth Ladner, of the woman who had been the sunshine of her home, and that flicker of a spark ignited inside her, burned brighter. And the desire to be the sunshine of her own home grew stronger, to a yearning that touched her soul-deep.

Cally glanced expectantly at Bryce.
“You’re sure you don’t think it macabre?”

“Not at all.” He stepped to her side. “Walking through a cemetery might not be a typical thing to do on a date, but—”

“This isn’t a date, Counselor. We agreed.”

“Right.” He stroked his beard. “As I was saying, walking through a cemetery might not be a typical thing to do on a nondate date, but it certainly isn’t bizarre.” He cocked his head. “Now, Tony. His presence at Seascape—that’s bizarre.”

“It is.”

“But you know what, Cally?”

“What?”

“It’s comforting, too. Knowing he’s with Suzie, and she’s dreaming but not terrified because she isn’t alone, well, that’s very comforting to me. And I’m sure it is to Suzie.”

“Bryce?”

Cally’s tone set his teeth on edge, his senses on alert. And she’d stopped. Standing stiffly, she stared down at a headstone. “What is it, honey?”

“Look at her name.”

Baffled, Bryce looked down to the gray marble, to the chiseled lettering. “Mary Elizabeth Freeport Nelson.” Not making any connection, he glanced back at Cally. “Collin and Cecelia’s daughter maybe?”

“Yes.” Cally unpinned the yellow carnation from her lapel and placed it on the ground where the headstone and earth met.

“I don’t get it.”

“Mary Elizabeth. Mary Beth.” Cally looked up at him. “Same birth and death dates. Isn’t that strange?”

“Cally, they’re not the same woman.”

“I know.” She shrugged, dusted the dirt from her fingertips, then stood up. “But they have a lot in common, and their names are close, and I’m—”

“Missing Mary Beth?” He curled an arm around Cally’s waist.

She nodded.

“Ah, I think I’m seeing some friendly encouraging of the Tony variety here.”

“What do you mean?” Under the shadow of an evergreen, she looked up at him.

“I think he’s led you to Mary Elizabeth so you could keep her company while you’re here. Kind of a hot line to Mary Beth.”

Cally looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Bryce, do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Not at all, Miss Tate. It’s perfectly logical. You always talk over your troubles with Mary Beth, right?”

“Right.”

“So to be comfortable here you need to talk, but Mary Beth isn’t here. And you haven’t exactly been welcoming to Tony. But Mary Elizabeth, a trusted sister, is here. It makes perfect—”

“Trusted sister? Whose sister?”

“Tony’s.”

Cally’s face went white. “Tony can’t manipulate people like that, can he?”

“Yes, Miss Tate. He can.” Bryce answered softly, and without flourish. “Remember when you were driving to Nova Scotia? That almost irresistible urge to come here?”

“Oh, God.” Cally slumped against Bryce.

“Are you going to faint?”

“No.”

“I think you’re going to faint. I’ve seen women who were about to faint before, and you really look like you’re about to faint.”

“I’m not going to faint.”

“Why don’t we go into the church and sit down, just in case. I’d feel a lot—”

“I’m not going to faint, Bryce.” Cally dragged in a breath and demanded her heart to slow its beating. Her temples fairly throbbed, and she wasn’t at all sure she wasn’t going to kiss the dirt in a dead faint. “He’s manipulating us.”

Bryce cupped her face in his hand. “He’s helping Suzie. He intercedes in her dreams, so she’s not alone. Hatch says Tony’s not supposed to do that—intercede—but he’s doing it anyway. For Suzie and for me.”

“Hatch knows about him, too?”