Tattered Innocence (35 page)

Gabs looked at Jake. “Guessing babies’
weights is kind of a game for him.”

Jake studied the man as he played with
Nathan. Could he be trusted with his son?

Ian’s gaze found Gabs and softened.

“Gabrielle, I need to talk to you. Go for
coffee?” It was more of a statement than a question from Ian.

“Go ahead. Nathan can hang with me,” Jake
said.

Ian shot Jake a grateful look and handed
Nathan back to him. In the space of the handoff Jake saw Ian’s
confidence slip and reboot, exposing the nervousness
underneath—liking him for it.

Jake watched them walk down the dock, Gabs
chattering like she never had with him, their elbows knocking into
each other as they walked.

The baby squirmed against his chest. A smile
started somewhere inside and broke through to the surface. He had
his answer.

As Rachel merged onto I-4, her phone rattled
against the ashtray.

A text from Jake.

Her heart thumped against her breastbone as
she grabbed the phone in a clammy hand. She hadn’t expected to hear
from Jake again after the night she threw herself at him on the
beach. A wooden thumb poked the
view
button.

Meet me at the Dolphin View Restaurant, 6
p.m.

Rachel huddled on the same picnic bench she
and Jake had shared when she interviewed to crew on the
Queen
. She thrummed her deck shoes against the seawall. What
could Jake possibly have to say to her after telling her he was
marrying Gabrielle?

Her hands burrowed in the pockets of her
navy pea coat.

She checked the time. Six twelve. Had Jake
decided not to show?

Wind whipped hair around her face and
frothed the river into tiny tongues of fire that night doused as it
fell.

The phone buzzed in her pocket, and she
froze.

Bret’s name glowed in the window, a neon
arrow pointing to the rotting corpse of her shame.

She grabbed hold of the table. The phone
vibrated again. She didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to wake up
any latent feelings for Bret that might exist. The phone shook in
her palm, jiggling her need to know why he was calling. If she
didn’t answer, she might never know.

“What do you want, Bret?”

“I filed for divorce this week.”

The familiar texture of his voice flowed
over her, waking nothing but regret. Next, she heard the plaintive
note. Then, his words slammed into her.
No.

She hunched, responsibility for the break-up
of his family settling on her shoulders like the lead drape before
a dental x-ray. She rocked back and forth.
God, I’m so
sorry.

“Say something, Rach.”

“If you filed thinking I’d start things up
with you, I won’t. Go back to Sheri and your kids. I told you I was
in love with Jake. That hasn’t changed.”

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear when I
sailed. But you can’t fault me for giving it one last shot. I’m not
going back to Sheri. Goodbye, Rachel.”

“Rae—”

She swiveled toward Jake’s voice, something
inside breaking through the lead drape weighing her down and
rushing out to meet him, though she’d barely moved. “How long have
you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” Jake stared at her
stone-faced, but something flared in his eyes.

She stood in slow motion, her gaze glued to
his. She wanted to take his face in her hands and run her thumbs
across the planes of his cheek bones, memorize him by Braille. But
she drank him in with her eyes instead.

Jake jerked his chin toward Riverside Drive.
“Let’s get out of the wind.”

They walked into Riverside Park, Jake’s
fingertips burning a hole through her coat to her back. He led them
to the canal seawall nestled from the wind between Brannon Senior
Center and the Captain’s Quarters Condominiums.

Scrubby fan palms huddled over them,
fluttering in random wisps of air.

Rachel sat on the cold stone of the seawall,
dangling her feet over the water.

Jake faced her on the wall, one leg flung
over the canal beside hers. His eyes blasted her with his
intensity, and she reached a hand behind her to steady herself.
She’d never gotten used to his focused attention after that kiss at
the hurricane hole.

“This time last year, I thought I was in
love with Gabs, but after spending seven and a half months with
you, I realized I probably never loved her. She was my
get-into-the-country-club-free card. I thought that’s what I
wanted.”

Wait. He never loved Gabrielle? But he was
marrying the woman. Why was he telling her this now?

“You made me see I never enjoyed Gabs’
world. You’re all about family—yours, mine, the one you’ll create
someday. Status never even crosses your radar.” Jake gave a dry
laugh. “You cried when I cleaned your car for your birthday.” A
smile flitted across his face. “Even if I never see you again after
today, you’ve given me something important. I thought I wanted
prestige, but you gave me faith.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he
touched his fingers to her lips.

Fissures of response webbed through her
body.

He reached for her hand. “I know what you’re
going to say, but you’re wrong. It’s because you’ve messed up that
I had hope. You showed me God’s involved with regular, screwed-up
people.”

The charm bracelet slid out of her sleeve,
the tiny man and the sailboat brushing the veins on the back of her
hand.

When he saw it, he smiled. “Thanks for
showing me what’s important in life.” He squeezed her hand.

How many good-byes did Jake want? The
finality of losing Jake and the
Queen
one-two punched her.
Her heart tripped, and she jerked her hand out of his. “I was
offered a crewing position in Sarasota today.”

A muscle tightened in Jake’s cheek. “You’re
taking it?”

She nodded, making her decision on the
spot.

Dark water lapped below her feet.

“I hope that’s up for discussion.”

Her breath stilled in her chest.

“Gabs and I decided not to get married. It
didn’t make sense when we both loved other people.”

A balcony light came on across the canal,
its halo warming the night.

“We’re going to split custody of Nate, as
close to fifty-fifty as possible.” His eyes searched hers. He went
up on one knee and reached for the fist she clenched in her lap.
“This is the last time I’m asking.” Jake’s hand covered hers, his
grip firm.

Her breath rasped in and out.

“I love you. Only. Ever. You. Will you marry
me, love me and my son?” Jake’s eyes brimmed with hope,
apprehension.

For a moment wonder fluttered inside like
the snow she’d seen in Indiana, dusting every part of her as it
fell—God melting forgiveness into her. Then,
yes
tobogganed
through the whiteness inside.

“I love you, Jacob Murray. I’ve loved you
since you let me cry in your arms after the storm. Yes. Yes.
Yes!”

Jake kissed her on the forehead as he
lowered himself to the wall, then wrapped her in a bear hug as they
sat side by side.

The bracelet tinkled in the night as her
hands found their way around him.

He loosened his hold and the condo lights
reflected from the unshed tears in his eyes.

She kissed his eyelids, the skin smooth
under her mouth.

Their lips found each other, sealing the
promise with fire.

Rachel pulled away, breathing hard, head
spinning, and Jake settled beside her, thigh to thigh, feet hanging
over the water.

He dug in his shirt pocket. “Will you wear
Grams’ ring?”

Riverside Drive streetlight glanced off the
white gold filigree surrounding the rectangular diamond she’d
turned down once. She loved the connection to Jake’s beloved
grandparents, the timeless beauty of the ring itself.

“I asked your father’s permission to marry
you—that’s why I was late tonight. My having Nate changed things. I
couldn’t alienate you from your family. And I didn’t want them
resenting me. Your dad was brutal.”

“Daddy?”

“I thought I was screwed till the last
minute.” Jake shuddered. “He pointed out that I’d be emotionally
and financially responsible for a child for the next twenty years.
He asked me if I had the balls to be faithful to his daughter for
the rest of my life.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish. When I told him God would help me
man-up for the job, he accused me of playing the God card.”

Rachel shook her head. “Wow, that’s a side
of Daddy I’ve never seen.”

“Well, no guy with a kid ever asked to marry
his daughter.” Jake stared at the debris sloshing against the
opposite seawall. “He said the only reason he gave me permission
was because he’d just had his own refresher course in humility—and
not to come crying to him if you turned me down.”

A laugh burst out of Rachel. “He knew I’d
say yes.”

Jake shrugged. “No reason for him to go easy
on me.”

He slid the ring onto her finger. “I will
always love you, Rae.” His lips closed on hers, his taste, smell,
texture, foreign and familiar at the same time. Hers.

Jake glanced at the Atlantic beyond the
ship’s bell Rachel had given him for Christmas mounted on the main
cabin, then at the dinghy floating peacefully behind the
Smyrna
Queen
in the nearly windless May morning. When the wind picked
up they should make it to St. Augustine today, then on to
Jacksonville tomorrow. The ocean spread out like a lumpy desert,
the color of green denim that had been washed a thousand times. The
color of home.

His gaze skimmed to Rachel, pretzeled onto
the cockpit bench—sound asleep after her best intentions of getting
up early fizzled—oblivious to the miles they’d covered since
daybreak. The blanket he’d thrown over her gaped, exposing the thin
T-shirt material of her nightgown stretched taut across her
breasts.

Gratitude only nicked the surface of what he
felt. His mind drifted from the sparkling horizon, back to Saturday
when he carried Rachel in her wedding dress across the
Queen’s
gangplank. Leaf stood grinning as if he were solely
responsible.

Rachel slit baleful eyes at him and shut
them, repositioning herself on the seat. It would take her another
half-hour to regain full consciousness.

He pulled one of her feet, then the other,
into his lap, his gaze sliding over a long swatch of leg before
returning to the elements. His thumb rubbed circles in the arch of
Rachel’s foot.

A sleepy moan slipped from her lips, and she
shifted.

The blanket slid off, replaced by morning
sun, toasting skin he’d only imagined these last few months.

His body heated on autopilot, and he raked
his eyes over the sheer, short nightie—a glorious improvement over
the basketball getup she used to sleep in. A shudder passed through
his body. He’d nearly lived his life without Rachel. Instead of
getting what he deserved, he got Rachel and Nate. Ian, planning a
change from obstetrics to ER since before he met Gabs, had agreed
to relocate…. Who wouldn’t want a God like that?

Rachel’s skull vibrated against the coaming.
She shoved the pillow between her head and the wood without opening
her eyes.

“Waking up?” Jake’s voice crashed through
her sleep.

“No.” She scrunched her eyes shut, feeling
churlish. Every cell in her body weighed three hundred pounds. A
carnival had traipsed through her stomach during the night,
trailing peanut shells and snow cone syrup.

Alertness seeped in—morning sun baking the
crown of her head, Jake’s thumb massaging the arch of her foot, and
snapshots—standing barefoot in the sand, the folds of her wedding
dress blowing against her legs. Ned craning his head around
Mama—her Matron of Honor—for another glimpse of Cat. Leaf in a suit
and tie beside a white-haired woman in a bird-of-paradise muumuu.
Jake’s mother bouncing Nathan in her lap. Keenan in a Hawaiian
shirt, Dockers, and no socks. Gabrielle and her doctor holding
hands.

Jake kneaded her other foot, shooting
pleasure up her calf. “We’ve been running downwind—if you could
even call it wind—all morning. Sailing doesn’t get more boring than
this.”

She pried open her eyes, and light glittered
in.

Jake smirked. “But the view—” His eyes
darted to her chest. “The view is incredible.”

She smiled, finally recognizing Jake’s
intensity for what it was—love for her. Love she’d steeped in for
the past three and a half months since Jake slid his grandmother’s
engagement ring onto her finger.

Now she knew what forgiveness felt like. It
felt like innocence.

The End

I wrote
Tattered Innocence
thirty-seven times over seventeen years. I owe my editor, Danielle
Lakes, my weight in chocolate for performing the miracle of
bringing order out mishmash.

Thank you to my sailing
consultants—Sarasota, Florida,
Key Sailing
owners Tim
and Jan Solomon, and sailor and critique partner Deb Garland of
Camano Island, Washington.

I’m grateful for my Catholic upbringing that
not only pointed me toward Jesus when I went looking, but gave me a
hearty grasp on the concept of guilt.

My family and friends deserve my love and
affection for putting up with my obsessive pursuit of my destiny—as
do the prayer team, who prayed me through these last few years into
publication.

I love Oasis Community Church who makes
doing life together an art. We may not be the best behaved bunch,
but we’ve pried off our masks and do “real” quite well.