Meet Me at the Beach (Seashell Bay) (11 page)

She lined up her boat more or less in the center of the course, parallel to the thirty-foot starter craft. Aiden brought
Irish Lady
next to her on her starboard side, and Cleary slid
Foolish Pride
in between Aiden and the starter boat. Finally, the mainland boat, freshly painted in brilliant white and fire engine red, motored behind Lily and took up its position on her port side. Lily just prayed the newcomer didn’t blast past her to the front. She had every expectation that with Roy’s tuned engine, Aiden would be plenty fast off the line, and she sure didn’t want to get caught in two strong wakes.

Moving slowly, the four boats formed a line, and the skippers watched for the go signal. When a race crewmember on the starter boat judged that no boat was pushing itself ahead of the pack, he dropped his flag with a dramatic flourish.

When Lily pushed her throttle forward,
Miss Annie
’s diesel rumbled up to a roar.

“Woo-hoo!” Morgan yelled at Aiden and Bram. “See you dudes later!”

Her bow rising as she quickly built speed,
Miss Annie
poked ahead of
Miss Fortune
and
Irish Lady
. Lily gripped the wheel hard and kept her eyes focused on a point on the horizon so she’d run a true course, not veering into either of the neighboring boat’s paths. She’d rely on Morgan to tell her what the other racers were doing.

“We’ve got a length on
Miss Fortune
already, and we’re
half a length up on Aiden,” Morgan called out over the din of four straining diesels. “I think Boone might be out of it already.”

Lily fought the urge to glance back over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Aiden.
Stick to business, Lily. Win this thing.

There wasn’t too much chop in the channel, but even still, their flat-out speed made for a jarring ride. Lily was glad she didn’t have to contend with another boat’s wake too. Not yet, anyway. Aiden, on the other hand, had to deal with hers.

They’d already passed the halfway marker. In the lead,
Miss Annie
’s diesel hummed, and her hull cut easily through the waves like the champ she was. But out of the corner of her left eye, Lily saw
Miss Fortune
cutting into her lead.

“Aiden’s nearly even with us!” Morgan yelled.

Lily took a quick look to her right. Morgan hadn’t exaggerated.
Irish Lady
was right beside
Miss Annie
, and there was nothing she could do about it—her boat was already at full throttle.

This cannot happen.

Lily started sweating, all her muscles tensing up. All she could do was watch as Aiden, looking totally commanding and in control, powered his boat past hers and into the lead.
Miss Fortune
was hanging in there too, if not closing the gap a little.

“Look at that asshat Bram,” Morgan yelled in a frustrated tone.

Lily cut a glance to see Bram wave at them as he did some stupid, little dance steps. “Just ignore him. This isn’t over yet.”

Irish Lady
’s stern cleared Lily’s bow and took a lead of more than a length. But it only lasted seconds before Lily heard something loud—some sort of horrible choking sound—ahead of her, and
Irish Lady
slowed like she was trying to cut through sand. In little more than a heartbeat,
Miss Annie
had shot past Aiden’s boat, obviously now powered only by momentum.

Though Lily had half-expected something like that to happen, it was still a shock. She’d tried to catch Aiden’s eye as she passed but his head was down, fixed on his controls.

“His engine’s shut down,” Morgan shouted, stating the obvious. “But forget Aiden, Lily.
Miss Fortune
’s right with us now.”

Had the mainland boat been keeping something in reserve for the final few hundred yards? The finish buoy was so close, but it seemed to Lily like it was a mile away. There was nothing more she could do but hope.
Miss Annie
was topping thirty miles an hour, a touch faster than she’d ever run in a race. The sweet girl didn’t want to be beaten any more than Lily did, and Josh Bryson had obviously done a great job of getting her ready.

But
Miss Fortune
took matters into her own hands within seconds of the finish line buoy, powering smoothly past to win by a boat length.

“Ah, hell,” Morgan moaned as Lily powered down. She put her hand on Lily’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “It’s no big deal. The better boat won today.”

Right now, she didn’t give a hoot about the trophy or the bragging rights that went along with winning the race class. All she could think about was
Irish Lady
and her
captain and the humiliation Aiden had to be suffering right now. She swung
Miss Annie
around in a tight circle, her heart aching for him. Yes, she’d wanted to beat him, but not like this.

“What are you doing?” Morgan asked as Lily steered back down the course.

“I’m going to give Aiden a tow.”

Her friend gave her a puzzled look. “I thought the race officials have a boat on standby to do that.”

Lily shook her head. “In the big race venues they do. But not here. In Seashell Bay, neighbors help each other out. Remember?”

Morgan had been on the mainland for such a long time that she occasionally forgot some of the island ways. Her pal wrinkled her nose in acknowledgment. “Right. Of course, I feel bad for Aiden, but at least you won the bet.”

At the moment, Lily wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. Now that it had become real, she suddenly had a horrible attack of nerves. On top of his ignominious defeat, she would now be asking him to do something she knew he would loathe. Her stomach did a few somersaults at the idea that he might think her a total bitch to even ask.

She made another 180-degree turn as she approached
Irish Lady
, lining up in front of Aiden and then reversing until her stern was a few feet from the other boat’s bobbing bow. Aiden had obviously figured out what she was going to do since both he and Bram clambered around to the bow, ready to receive the tow ropes.

Since Lily hadn’t towed anybody for years, her nerves jittered a bit at the thought of damaging either
Miss Annie
or
Irish Lady
, or both. Towing was a dangerous business. Lobster boat hulls weren’t designed for it, and the engines
didn’t produce the kind of torque ideal for pulling something of equal weight. But she’d be damned if she was going to let somebody else with a bigger boat step into the breach instead. She was fully responsible for this situation. If she hadn’t concocted the bet,
Irish Lady
wouldn’t be stranded in the channel, and Aiden and his father wouldn’t be facing a potentially huge repair bill.

Maybe she should forget all about the bet. Hadn’t she done enough damage already?

“Hey, thanks for the help, ladies,” Aiden said as Lily pulled two coils of rope from a compartment in the stern.

Lily peered anxiously at him as she hurled one rope across the narrow gap between the boats. “I’m really sorry, Aiden.”

He caught the rope in his big, capable hand. “Thanks. For about a minute there, I really thought we had you beat.”

“You almost did,” Lily said as she tossed the second rope at Bram, who was glowering and muttering under his breath. “Your old girl showed some real spunk, and you handled her beautifully.”

Aiden cut her a rueful grin as he started to secure his line to one of the forward cleats. “Thanks, but it wasn’t exactly a great feat of seamanship. Anyway, did you beat the other guy?”

“Sadly, no.” Lily could hardly believe how unfazed Aiden was by the calamity that had struck his boat or by his loss in the bet. Where she’d feared possible anger and recriminations, he was giving her nothing but smiles and concern for whether she’d won or lost.

She started to tie off her ends of the ropes to cleats on
Miss Annie
’s stern rail.

Aiden came up from his crouch, bracing himself against the gentle swells rocking their boats. “So, are you going to tell me what I have to do for you now or do you want to keep me in suspense?”

His smile was easy and assured, but Lily thought his dark eyes reflected some concern too.

While she didn’t want to play coy with Aiden, there was no way she was going to have this discussion by exchanging shouts between boats, nor did she intend to have it in front of Morgan and Bram or anyone else.

“Could we talk about that tonight at the festival social?” Lily said in voice she hoped would reflect more confidence than she felt. “I presume you’re going to be there?”

Aiden’s eyes widened, as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Maybe he didn’t even know about the big party and dance at the VFW Hall that had marked the end of the Blueberry Festival every year for the past decade. She suspected Bram might not have mentioned it, because she couldn’t remember the last time Aiden’s brother or father had shown up at the social.

Aiden didn’t respond for a few moments, simply staring at her with a slightly puzzled look. But then he shot her a crooked grin. “I guess I am now, Lily. In fact, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

T
he evening peace was shattered by a squeal of brakes and then a crunch of loose gravel. Aiden knew who had just pulled up and didn’t bother getting up from his seat on the porch.

“Hi, Dad,” he said when Sean Flynn stomped around from the driveway.

“I want to talk to you, but I need a drink first,” his father grumbled by way of greeting.

Because the old man could never have a conversation without being well lubricated, it seemed. “I’m not going anywhere,” Aiden replied, as his dad headed inside.

He shifted in the uncomfortable deck chair, regretting that he hadn’t left for the Blueberry Festival social before his father rolled up. Hell, maybe he should just split now. He couldn’t wait to see Lily, and not just because he’d finally learn what prize she would claim for beating him in the race.

Still, leaving now would just piss off the old man even more, and that made no sense. The guy hadn’t just dropped by to shoot the breeze. Not unless he’d had a personality transplant.

“Your sack-of-shit brother is asleep,” Sean growled as he kneed the door open, a glass in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. “Tell me how I managed to get such slapped asses for sons.” He set his glass on the flat, narrow railing and sucked hard on the cigarette before flopping down onto the other chair.

“Maybe we picked it up from you,” Aiden said. “You know, Dad, for a guy who wants my support on his precious land deal, you’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“Don’t give me that crap. You’re a Flynn, just like me, so you’ll do whatever the hell you want whether I kiss your ass or not. Don’t expect me to get warm and fuzzy with you all of a sudden. I’m not a hypocrite, and I’m not your sainted mother.”

Aiden snorted. “That’s for damn sure. But you are wrong about one thing—I’m nothing like you.” At least he hoped to God he wasn’t.

His father waved a hand, sending even more smoke wafting in Aiden’s direction. He’d always hated the acrid sting of cigarette smoke, even as a little kid.

“At least you boys didn’t turn out to be weak little pussies,” the old man replied in a smug tone. “You can thank me for that, not Rebecca.”

That brought Aiden to his feet in a rush. “Don’t ever talk about Mom like that, you hear me?” he snapped, looming over his father.

He hated the way the old man had treated his mother, always so sharp-tongued and critical. Why Rebecca Flynn had stayed loyal to her husband was one of the mysteries of the universe, as far as Aiden was concerned. “Just say whatever it is you came over to say. I’m heading down to the dance in about two minutes.”

His father peered up at him, looking oddly disconcerted. Then he seemed to shrug it off. “What the hell happened out there today, anyway? Roy said that engine was purring like a damn kitten this morning.”

Aiden struggled to dial back his anger. “It was. And in the race, everything was going fine until it blew. Maybe
Irish Lady
just wasn’t up to it. Roy probably tried to get more out of that old diesel than he should. Our fault, right?”

“Can’t blame Roy for giving it a shot.” Sean slugged back a drink. “Shit happens. It’s just too bad you had to lose to a damn Doyle.”

“It’s not a problem, Dad.”

His father waved his cigarette. “We’ve got a hell of a lot bigger things to worry about.”

Aiden moved away from him, staring out at the calm sea, dreading what was coming next.

“Look, Aiden,” Sean said, “you need to get serious about the future of this family.” His face was already going red, his eyes bloodshot and full of anger.

“Go on, I’m listening,” Aiden said.

His father swigged his glass dry and then slammed it down on the rail. “I just don’t get why you’re screwing around instead of getting on with making a decision. It doesn’t make any damn sense. Bram says he’s explained everything to you six ways from Sunday, and you’ve seen the plans. What the hell else do you need to get your ass in gear?”

Aiden had already heard enough. He leaned against the rail, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think the only thing I’ve got on my mind right now is your land deal? Well, my baseball career might be about to circle the drain, so excuse me if I’m not 100 percent focused on your dreams and your timetable.”

Sean lumbered to his feet too, visibly wincing. It was another indication that the heavy smoking and drinking, combined with a hard working life, had aged his father beyond his years.

“My dreams? Dammit, this isn’t about dreams. It’s about our future—your brother’s and mine. We’ve only got one asset left, and we’ve got to take advantage of it—right now, while we’ve got a good deal on the table.”

“You think I don’t know all that?” Aiden said. It was bad enough having to be responsible for Bram, but as much as he hated the idea, he knew the old man needed him too.

“Then what’s the problem? Just do your duty to the family. And it’s not like there’s nothing in it for you. Hell, you’ll make a real nice chunk of change from the sale. I figure since the Phillies cut you loose, you might need it.” He finished with a trace of a sneer.

“Good old Dad,” Aiden said bitterly. “Always so supportive.”

Sean snorted. “Oh, suck it up. You had a pretty good run—hell, when you get right down to it, you did better than I thought you ever would.”

“That doesn’t say a hell of a lot, since you never thought I’d make it in the majors. But hey, you didn’t know shit back then, and you still don’t know shit now.”

Sean tossed his cigarette butt all the way to the rocky slope below, then poked his finger into Aiden’s chest. “What I know is that Bram and me are screwed unless you get your head out of your ass and sign onto this deal.”

Aiden turned away again, throttling back the impulse to give his dad a hard shove. “This discussion is over for now. I’m going down to the dance.”

“Yeah, sure, so you can sniff around Lily Doyle some more?” his father called out, as Aiden headed off. “I’d be real careful if I were you. Sure, she’s a nice piece of ass, but don’t you ever forget she’s a Doyle and you’re a Flynn.”

Aiden spun around in the drive so hard he kicked up gravel. “Like I said before, I am a Flynn, but I’ve never been like you and I never will be. So deal with it. Let me tell you something else, Dad—I can’t wait to get the hell off this island and never hear another word about your sick, dumbass feud.” He stabbed a finger in his father’s direction. “And if you ever slag Lily that way again, you might be on the receiving end of a fist for once.”

When he was a kid, anything close to what he’d just said would have earned him a smack in the face or a punch to the back of the head. Now he just heard a few mumbled curses that rolled off his back as he walked away, but it was still hard work keeping his father out of his head. Because despite their nasty little argument, Aiden still worried about him, especially because there was a very good chance that Sean would finish the half bottle of scotch on the kitchen counter. His dad could never say no to a drink.

Or a whole bottle.

He turned back to the house with a sigh. “Dad, you’re already half drunk or worse. Stick around here and have some coffee, okay? Don’t try to drive home like this.”

Sean waved Aiden off. “What I do is none of your goddamn business.”

Aiden shrugged, knowing how useless it was. “Okay, well, see you later.”

But he only made it to the edge of the deck before the
door creaked open and Bram clumped out. “Jesus, man, your agent’s on the phone. Damn thing woke me up, but I’m going back to sleep so switch it to vibrate, okay?” Not exactly a pretty picture in his soiled T-shirt and sweat shorts, his brother shoved the phone into Aiden’s outstretched hand and went right back inside.

Aiden’s heart rate doubled in a nanosecond. “Dude,” he said into the phone, trying not to sound too excited.

“Aiden, did I get you at a bad time?” Paul Johnson’s words came out low and flat.

Shit.
After almost ten years of working together, he knew every tone and nuance in his agent’s voice. Paul definitely wasn’t calling with happy news.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” He forced himself to take a deep breath.

“No, I’m afraid the Orioles and Royals both passed. They’re going to promote some guys to fill their gaps. I’m sorry, man. I really pushed hard for you.”

Bringing up a youngster from the minor leagues was a cheap move that teams often used to cope with injuries to their regulars. Aiden didn’t like it, but it didn’t surprise him either.

“I know you did,” he said, grateful as always for Paul’s dedication. “But somebody’s eventually got to need a veteran for the stretch run. There’s still time, right?”

His career couldn’t be over. Not yet—not when it seemed like yesterday that he’d played his first game in pro ball. How could he be done already when he still had fire in his gut and a lot of baseball left in him?

Paul’s sigh echoed over the line. “Buddy, I hate like hell to have to say this again, but remember what I told you about having a backup plan?”

Aiden shook his head, as if his agent could see him. “Come on, Paul, are you really telling me that absolutely nobody’s going to sign me?”

“Aw, hell, Aiden, I didn’t say that. But you don’t want me to start stringing you along, do you?”

“No,” Aiden said gloomily.

“Look, man, this sucks big time. But we can say that until I lose what’s left of my hair and it won’t change squat. I can’t get anybody interested right now, and the odds on that changing aren’t great. Not next week, not next month, and probably not even next season. Your numbers have been going down, and the GMs are just too leery of your health to take a risk.”

Paul always laid it out straight, which was one of the reasons Aiden had stayed with him over the years. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel like puking at his agent’s assessment. And unfortunately, Paul Johnson—one of the best in the business—was rarely wrong.

He found it impossible to hold back his bitterness and frustration. “You think I need a backup plan? Well, I guess my plan is to see if there’s a little junior college or high school in the Ozarks or some other place in the boonies that could use a baseball coach. What the hell else can I do?”

Paul didn’t answer immediately. Maybe he thought Aiden needed a moment to get his head on straight. He was probably right.

“There are still some options,” his agent finally said. “Not at the major-league level, but maybe I could get some team to add you to the roster for minor-league depth. Or if worse comes to worst, I could try to hook you up with one of the independent-league teams.”

Aiden’s gut twisted tighter. Every word felt like a rusty knife slicing through him.

“Or there’s always Japan,” Paul added.

Aiden sank back down into his deck chair, staring at the ocean and the rugged beach below. The serene view in the fading twilight seemed to mock him.

“Japan? Really?” he asked, incredulous.

“Look, I’m just saying it’s an option. Their Pacific League uses the DH position. It’d be an adjustment, sure, but if you had some success over there, it would probably make it easier to get the teams here interested again.”

Maybe, but it was a long shot. It was uncommon for an American player to return to the majors once he’d been relegated to playing in Japan. If he were on the way out, Aiden figured he’d rather get on with life instead of trying to prolong his career in humiliating fashion.

“Look, Aiden, you need some time to think. So kick back and try to enjoy your time up there, okay? When you’re ready, I’ll be here for you. Just like always.”

“Yeah, I know. Call me if anything changes.” Aiden stabbed the End Call button. His dad just looked at him, for once having the brains to keep his mouth shut.

Great. Just great. Stuck on this godforsaken island with no job and no prospects.

And a big-ass decision to make that would profoundly affect the life of every person on Seashell Bay Island.

Including his.

The band—four local guys and a young female vocalist from the mainland—were blasting out a steady beat of soft-rock classics that even the old-timers seemed to enjoy. But Lily couldn’t focus on either the music or the
conversation at her table. She was too busy watching the front door of the crowded VFW Hall, her nerves crawling with a weird combination of anticipation and dread as she waited for Aiden to show up.

Lily and Morgan had arrived two hours ago and Holly a few minutes later. Morgan had claimed a table in a corner at the rear of the room, and soon Brett and Laura, along with their old friend Ryan Butler, home for a brief vacation, had joined them. Lily’s sister, Brie, had arrived soon after that, sitting with Lily instead of at a table with their parents, Miss Annie, Roy Mayo, and a few other oldsters. After the evening kicked off with speeches by members of the festival organizing committee, the boat race chairman had presented the trophies and prizes to the winners. Then the dancing and serious drinking had begun.

Lily had watched with regret as the skipper of
Miss Fortune
, a fisherman from Boothbay Harbor, collected the hardware she had won the previous two years. Along with the winner’s trophy came a hundred gallons of diesel fuel donated by the East Bay Lobster Company. While Lily didn’t much care about the trophy, her dwindling checking account would have seriously thanked her for the savings on fuel.

Her gaze once more drifted to the front of the hall. Had Aiden decided to skip the social after all? It was getting late, but she found it hard to believe he wouldn’t show up after his promise to meet her. Then again, he could have returned home to a truly nasty blowup with his father, since Sean must have been spitting nails at both the loss of the race and the damage to
Irish Lady
’s engine. As she conjured up the worst-case scenario, she could even
imagine that a disgusted Aiden might have jumped on a late ferry and left the island for good.

“Maybe he decided to give the social a miss after all,” Morgan whispered, clearly reading her thoughts. “He might be too embarrassed by what happened this afternoon.”

Lily wasn’t buying that theory. “He sure didn’t look embarrassed when we towed
Irish Lady
to O’Hanlon’s. But I’m a little worried that he might have gone home to some awful fight with his father.”