Beside a Dreamswept Sea (37 page)

“Sometimes it’s hard to believe.”

“Sure is. But if faith came easy, then there’d be no need in our going through some of the things we do, now would there?”

He sat down in the rocky sand beside her, bent his knees and propped his elbows atop them. “Life’s a lot like fishing, in my estimation. If you wade into it rigged to catch bass, you ain’t likely to land a cod. But if you go for cod, and you’re meant to have it, then you’ll get it.”

Cally gave him a soft smile. “In other words, know what you want and why you want it, then go after it with all you’ve got.”

“More or less.” He gave her a gap-toothed grin. “If you’re going fishing, you might as well rig for the fish you really want. Otherwise, why not just stay home?”

“Ah, love.” His meaning dawned on her. “You’re talking about love. No, don’t deny it, Hatch. I know you are.” She let out a spectacular sigh that heaved her shoulders. “That brings us back to solutions. So what if you find love, but it wasn’t meant to be found?”

“Impossible.”

“It happened.”

“Darling, you listen to this old man. I been around the block a time or two in this love business, and I’m telling you that love don’t find a soul it ain’t supposed to find. It might not be comfortable, or easy, or even wanted, but it ain’t never happened by mistake.”

“Mmm, greater good, right?”

“That’d be my estimation on the topic.”

She stretched out a hand, then shook his. “Thanks, Hatch.”

“You’re welcome.” As they clasped hands, a strange light lit in his eyes. His brows knitted and his leathery skin pulled tight. Looking pensive, he released her fingertips, then stood up. “Cally?”

“Yes?” What had upset him?

“I know you ain’t exactly comfortable with folks knowing all about your situation.”

“Would you be?”

He scratched at his neck. “No, I can’t say I would be, and that’s a fact.” He lowered his hand to his side, and his eyes went serious. “But the villagers mean you no harm, only good, and you’ve got my word on that.”

The bulletin board bets down at the Blue Moon Cafe. That’s what he meant. “I believe you.” She did. That he hadn’t spoken from the heart never crossed her mind.

He pulled a gold coin out of his pocket that looked like a Mardi Gras doubloon, then cocked an ear, as if listening to someone. Did Tony talk with Hatch, too?

“If you ever need special help,” he said, “you come to me at the lighthouse straightaway.”

“Special help?” An alarm went off inside her mind. One that had her knees weak, her chest tight. “What do you mean?”

Eyes that she would have sworn could be no more serious became so. “Hatch?”

“You’ll know, Cally. Just remember. You come to me. Straightaway.” He pointed at her with a gnarled fingertip. “I’ll be having your word on that, little lady.”

“All right.” She didn’t know what in the world she’d just promised, but she knew for fact it was important. More than important, if Hatch’s tone were any gauge. And deep inside, that sixth sense warned her it was not only a gauge, but an accurate one.

But a gauge for what?

“Miss Hattie?”
Bryce looked up from the third stack of pancakes she’d dumped on his plate.

“Yes, dear?” Pausing beside the table, she held the egg turner poised midair.

“You know a lot about flowers.” She’d been grafting roses, working with a hybrid. She had to know more than he did.

“A little.” She walked back to the stove, ignoring the din of racket the M and M’s were making a morning ritual these days. “But Millie is the master gardener.”

He poured homemade blueberry syrup over the steaming pancakes. A droplet landed on the table. Without thinking, he dabbed at it with his fingertip, then sucked it off.

Mrs. Wiggins grunted her disapproval.

Suzie giggled.

And Jeremy looked relieved it wasn’t he who had gotten caught.

His face hot, Bryce muttered, “Sorry.” He had to get a grip on this early morning fantasy of his night with Cally. It’d been three days, for God’s sake. Three long, confusing, bewildering days. What had gotten into her?

“Did you have a question about flowers, dear?” Miss Hattie set the griddle back onto the stove. “I’m sure as certain Millie or I can figure it out.”

“Yes, I do.” He swallowed a succulent bite from his fork, scraping the tines with his teeth, then savored it. “Mmm, good. Very good.” Lifting his napkin from his lap, he dabbed at his mouth. “Cally mentioned a flower that means pride, but not the name of it. Do you happen to know what it is?”

“Not right offhand.” Her eyes twinkled with obvious pleasure at this development between him and Cally. “Millie has a list, though. Let me give her a call.”

“Thanks.” Bryce winked at her.

“Where’d Cally go, Daddy?” Jeremy swung his legs and rocked his chair. “I need to tell her about Toby—the horse I rided.”

Bryce steadied it, then pressed a hand to his son’s knee. “You’ve already told her about Toby.”

“Yeah, but I wanna tell her again.” Jeremy dropped his fork. It clanged against his plate, and he cast a worried look at Mrs. Wiggins, scrunched his shoulders, then looked back at Bryce. “She likes Toby.”

Cally liked Jeremy. And why had he flinched on looking at Wiggins? Glancing her way, Bryce knew. Her reprimanding expression had her face looking harder than stone. “You can tell Cally later, after she wakes up.”

“Honestly, Daddy.” Suzie laid a you-should-know-better frown on Bryce. “She’s not sleeping.”

“She ain’t in the bathroom crying,” Jeremy said. “I checked.”

Suzie held her frown leveled on Bryce. “She’s down at the pond talking with Hatch again. He’s trying to find out why she doesn’t like us anymore.”

Mrs. Wiggins grunted her disapproval.

Ignoring it, he gentled his voice. “It’s not that she doesn’t like us, Suzie. Cally likes us all very much. She’s just busy right now.”

“Uh-uh.” This from Jeremy. “She’s mad. I heared—”

“Heard,” Bryce corrected.

“I heard her crying in the bathroom.” He held up his fingers. “Two times.”

“When?” Suzie moved her glass of milk aside so she could see her brother from across the table.

“When I asked her to marry Daddy yesterday.”

“Jeremy, you asked Cally to marry me?” Oh, boy. How was he going to convince her he hadn’t put the M and M’s up to coercing her?

Suzie’s glare turned frosty. “Daddy, you made Cally cry twice?”

“I didn’t make her cry at all.” Why did she assume he’d been at fault?

“Uh-huh, Daddy.” Jeremy nodded. “You did. She cried a long time, too.”

Had he? Guilt swam in Bryce’s stomach. “Well, if I did, I didn’t mean to.”

“You made her cry a long time—twice?” Suzie pinched her lips together so hard they turned white. “I told you miracles could only happen if you believed. Are you believing, Daddy?”

“Yes, Suzie, I am.” He had no idea what had gone wrong with Cally. The woman had made love with him as if she’d never get enough of him, then had backed off cold and dropped him. She wouldn’t talk about it, or about anything else. At first he’d thought what they’d shared in bed had scared the hell out of her. God knew, it sure had him. Who could’ve been prepared for that kind of emotional explosion? They’d talked about it, and it was new to both of them. But now, he wasn’t sure that fear was the problem. And she wasn’t talking.

Miss Hattie patted Suzie’s shoulder. “I’m sure as certain your dad is believing, dear.” She bent low to whisper at Suzie’s ear. “That’s what the flower that means pride is for. To show Cally.”

“Oh.” The anger and hurt and disappointment left Suzie’s expression. She looked amazingly serene.

“Remember,” Miss Hattie said, “it takes grown-ups a while longer sometimes to figure things out. We have to be patient.”

“Like it’s taking me a while to get both oars in the water. We have to be patient, and to wish really hard.”

“Exactly.” Miss Hattie nodded, then smiled up at the ceiling. “Let me give Millie that call.”

Once again the angel of Seascape Inn had saved his bacon with his kids. How she managed, Bryce had no idea, but none of them looked ready to murder him anymore, and for that he was grateful.

“Shampoo.”

“Lyssie!” Suzie shouted.

Bryce spotted the syrup pitcher poised over the baby’s head. He grabbed it out of her little hands just in the nick of time, thunked it down on the table, then pointed a finger at the angelic-looking moppet grinning at him. “No, Lyssie.”

She twisted her lips. “Animal crackers.”

Ah, bliss. He sank back into his chair. Another peaceful, quiet morning with the Richards family. He glanced to the rocker, but Meriam’s image wasn’t there. Cally’s was. And she didn’t smile. She crooked a come-hither finger at him. He nearly came unglued.

Miss Hattie hung up the phone, then clasped her pearl earring back to her earlobe. Pancake batter smudged her apron. Why, oh why, hadn’t Meriam hired her?

“Millie says the narcissus symbolizes pride, dear.”

“Narcissus. Thanks.” He polished off the last of his pancakes. “Is there a florist in the village?”

“No, but Millie has some if you’re wanting them.”

“Great.” He scooted back his chair.

Miss Hattie rinsed her hands at the sink, then dried them with a dishcloth. “Bryce?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Far be it from me to interfere, dear, but I think this morning would be a good time to give them to her.”

The flowers to Cally. “Oh?” Obviously, from the M and M’s, Cally was upset. He only hoped it wasn’t because she regretted their making love. He could handle a lot of things, would endure nearly anything, but he couldn’t handle feeling unlovable again. Not after what they’d shared. Not and ever again be content.

“Jeremy was right about Cally weeping. And Suzie, too,” Miss Hattie said. “Cally left the house at the crack of dawn, looking very troubled, bless her heart.”

“I see.”

“Not yet, dear. But I think you’re beginning to.”

“She’s debating.”

Miss Hattie nodded, and stepped close so only he could hear. “I think she could use a little more friendly persuasion.”

Surprise streaked up his back. “Miss Hattie.”

“Bosh, don’t give me that stunned look, Bryce Richards. The woman needs a steady dose of loving, and we both know it. For that matter, dear, so do you.” Her face bright pink, she put the dishcloth down on the counter, beside the metal batter bowl. “My solider used to say that instinctive reactions are the only ones worth trusting. Hatch agrees. When we start mulling over things, then what’s important gets muddy. For what it’s worth, Bryce, over the years, I’ve learned they’re both wise men.”

“Do you know where she is?”

Miss Hattie nodded. “Down at the pond by the big oak.”

“Hurry, Daddy.” Suzie beamed a smile at him and nodded so hard he thought she’d snap her neck. “Tell her we love her, too.”

“Wish me luck.”

Mrs. Wiggins snorted.

“Always, dear heart.” Miss Hattie patted his beard, her kind eyes shimmering tears. “Never doubt it.”

As he headed to the door, she called out. “The children and I are going to the village. Tuesday’s my errand day, and Mrs. Wiggins needs a little respite.”

“I’m quite capable of fulfilling my duties, Hattie.”

“Of course you are. Truthfully, I was hoping you might drop next door to check on my friend Beaulah. Maybe have a cup of tea with her. Earl Grey is her favorite, too, and she’s alone, you know. When Meriam was here, she and Beaulah became very close. I thought maybe talking about her would be helpful to Beaulah—if it wouldn’t be asking too much of you. She misses Meriam something fierce.”

“My Meriam?” Mrs. Wiggins’s eyes lit up and her voice elevated an octave.

“Oh my, yes. Haven’t I mentioned that? Meriam and Beaulah spent hours talking together and traipsing through the woods.”

“Of course. I’d be delighted to assist, Hattie.”

“Thank you. I confess I’ve a lengthy list of errands today and I have been fretting on how I’d get everything done in time for our weekly, er, meeting tonight.”

“Historical Society?” Mrs. Wiggins asked, scooting back her chair.

“Not exactly.” Hattie smiled enigmatically. “We’re planning a wedding.”

“Who’s getting married?” Suzie asked.

Miss Hattie wrinkled her nose. “It’s a secret.”

“I’ll take Lyssie with me,” Mrs. Wiggins said. “It’ll be easier for you to shop without her grabbing everything in the world and trying to dump it in her hair.”

Bryce gave his littlest angel a smile. The blue had faded from her hair. Maybe she’d be blond for Thanksgiving, after all.

“That’s fine.” Miss Hattie turned off the stove. “Bryce, do run along, dear. Millie’s waiting.”

“Thanks, Miss Hattie.” He kissed each of the kids.

“You forgotted Miss Hattie, Daddy,” Jeremy told him.

“Forgot.” Bryce grinned, then planted a gentle peck to her soft cheek. “Now who could ever forget Miss Hattie?”