Spencer's Child

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She smiled at that. He’d forgotten the way her smile could warm him deep down inside. There’d been other women, before and since, though right now he couldn’t recall a single one. But who had Meg McKenzie become? One minute she wore her maturity like she used to wear silk blouses, with confidence and style. The next minute she was a mass of nerves, as jumpy as a spooked cat.

They cruised down the highway to Swartz Bay, hitting every green light from Elk Lake on. “It’s times like this you’ve just gotta believe in a supreme being,” Spencer said, one hand draped across the top of the wheel.

“Oh?” Meg replied with a sarcastic grin. “You mean, he’s turning the lights green so Spencer Valiella won’t have to slow down?”

He grinned. “She is making sure Meg McKenzie catches her ferry.” He paused. “It is still McKenzie, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She frowned at him. “I told you I wasn’t married.”

“Right.” Then who was the guy who’d answered her phone this morning when Spencer had called to let her know which ferry he was aiming to catch? He’d sounded sleepy, as though he’d reached over to the bedside table to pick up the receiver. “Got a boyfriend?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“Guess not.”

They came over the rise and into the vast paved area comprising row upon row of lanes filling with cars lining up for the ferries. Spencer curved off into the one leading to the ticket booth for Fulford Harbor on Saltspring Island. As the attendant handed over their tickets, she expressed some doubt as to whether they would make this sailing.

“We’ll make it,” Spencer assured her. He sped down the appropriate lane, careered around a curve and zipped over the ramp even as the warning buzzer was sounding for the seamen to cast off. The Camaro hit the steel deck with a deafening ka-thunk. The muffler sounded like thunder in the echo chamber of the car deck until he cut the engine. The ferry gave three short and one long blasts of the horn, and they were under way.

Spencer turned to Meg with a self-satisfied grin.

She rolled her eyes. “I need a coffee.”

They went upstairs to the cafeteria and got coffee to go.

“Outside,” Spencer said, and led the way to the bow where the wind blew their hair straight back and the green shapes of the Gulf Islands were spread out before them. Blue water, blue sky, glaucous-winged gulls wheeling overhead, and the majestic white prow of the Queen of Nanaimo as she came around the point.

Spencer leaned against the rail and drank in the fresh salt air. Being on the water always put him in a more mellow mood. “I’d forgotten how beautiful it is up here.”

“You never would have known if you hadn’t come back.”

He glanced at Meg. She’d spoken lightly, yet he sensed a change in her mood, too, only she’d gotten serious. Still, there was history between them and her words meant something whether he acknowledged them or not. “I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

A swift glance, as blue as the sky. And then she was clutching her foam cup so hard it bent. “You hurt me,” she said quietly. “I thought we were friends.”

“We were friends.” The sudden tensing of her mouth told him he’d hurt her again, unwittingly. God, he was inadequate when it came to the spoken word. He tried to catch her eye and communicate his caring. But she wouldn’t look at him.

“Were you happy at all when you lived here before, Spencer?”

He was surprised at the question. Surprised at himself for not knowing the answer. “Sometimes you can’t tell if you’re happy until you go back to a place and see what feelings it evokes.”

“That is the statement of someone completely out of touch with their emotions.” A loose strand of hair blew across her face and she brushed it away. “So, what feelings does Victoria evoke in you?”

She hadn’t asked about Saltspring, although they were nearing the island. That would have been too loaded a question. But the edge to her voice told him she meant what feelings did she evoke. He’d repressed those feelings for so long he wasn’t sure he could define them. He only knew she shouldn’t expect too much from him. “I don’t know. Guess I’m still out of touch.”

She was silent, watching the timber-and-glass houses perched on the island’s steep shoreline slip past.

He didn’t want her to want something he couldn’t give her. But to say so would be presumptuous. “I’ve applied to Bergen for a research position.”

“Bergen? You mean in Norway?”

“Yes, at the marine research institute there. The position may come up before the year is over.”

She nodded. “I thought it would be something like that.”

When the announcement telling passengers to return to their vehicles came on, Spencer was relieved. He tossed his empty cup into a bin and held the door open for Meg. Her hair whipped around his bare elbow, anchoring her to him for a moment. Their eyes met as she pulled it away. There was sadness in her gaze.

Spencer hated himself for putting it there.

THE DEEP BLUE WATER off the north end of Saltspring Island sparkled invitingly. Meg stood on the edge of the cobble beach while her kayak rocked gently in the shallows at her feet. In spite of the warmth of the sun, a cool breeze blew over the water and she was glad of her fleece pullover.