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From across the table she stared quizzically at him. He couldn’t blame her. He was being more curt than he intended. But annoyance had inched under his skin. Annoyance with himself for letting her into the house.
“When did Charlie die?” she asked between sips of coffee.
“It’s been a while.” Because he lived alone, he paid little attention to the house. With her there, scanning the room, he noticed the refrigerator needed wiping. Unlike Charlie, he had no housekeeper, wanted no one snooping around. “Why don’t we cut to the chase. What do you want from me?”
“This is difficult.”
“If this is about my sister, I haven’t seen her in years.” He wondered if Marnie had found all she’d wanted. Wherever she’d gone and whatever she’d done, she had to have found something better than they’d had here.
“I know.”
“You know?” That caught his attention. “Does that mean you’ve seen her recently?”
Though Rachel remained unsure what to do about Heather, she had to tell him about his sister. Being the bearer of bad news was never easy. “Marnie was in Texas.”
“In Texas?” He set down his cup and gave her his full attention. “How do you know that?”
“I was there.” Rachel wanted to stop, plead a headache, illness—escape. How would she tell him?
“I worked in a bank, and she came in for a job.”
“She has a good job.”
“She was a bank teller.”
“She—” His face tensed.
She guessed her hesitation was irritating him, but how could she blurt out what needed to be said?
“Why do you keep saying…was?”
She could have told him that Marnie had chosen not to contact him. One night over dishes of rocky road ice cream, Marnie had cried and explained that she’d never wanted to burden her brother with her problems. “Kane, I’m sorry—”
“Sorry. What the hell are you sorry about?”
“Marnie died a week and a half ago.” Rachel gave him a moment while the words registered. She prayed her voice didn’t break, and she didn’t cry. “I tried to contact you.” She hurried an explanation. “I knew from Lori—Lori Wolken—that you were still living here. I tried to reach you.” She withdrew two papers she’d slipped earlier into her jeans pocket. “When I couldn’t, I called Lori with the news about Marnie. She told me that you weren’t in town.”
Expressionless, he kept staring at her.
Rachel wished someone who knew him was here. “I learned you returned from a two-week fishing trip yesterday.”
“How?” A demand edged his voice. She could hear a silent message. Explain this to me. Tell me this isn’t real. “How did she die?”
Rachel set the folded death certificate for Marnie and a birth certificate for Heather on the table. “Your sister was proud, really proud.” Would he blame Rachel? She’d always felt as if she hadn’t done enough, hadn’t come up with good enough arguments to convince Marnie that she shouldn’t have the baby at home, hadn’t tried hard enough. If only she’d convinced Marnie to accept help, how different everything might be now.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
The harsh command forced her head up. Such pain clouded his eyes. She wanted to touch him. “I was her friend, but she wouldn’t let me help. She always said she wouldn’t take charity. I tried.” Rachel felt the knot forming in her throat. “I really did. But she wouldn’t go to the hospital, wouldn’t let me pay.”
“Hospital? She was ill?”
“Oh, no.” Rachel wished she was standing closer, could touch him. “Kane, she was pregnant. But instead of going to a hospital, she decided to have the baby at home.”
His shoulders raised, but that was the only visible change.
“She had a midwife come to the trailer.” Rachel took a step closer. This was far more difficult than she’d imagined. “There were complications. We called for an ambulance, and they rushed her to the hospital, but—”
He kept staring past her as if she were invisible.
“Before she reached the hospital, she was gone.”
“Why didn’t she have it in the hospital? She had a job, medical insurance, didn’t she?”
She had loved Marnie like a sister but wasn’t blind to her faults and hoped he wasn’t, either. “She took off a lot and lost the job.” She didn’t wait for him to ask why. “There was a man. She wanted to be with him.”
His jaw tightened slightly, but he held on to a stone face.
Rachel presumed he’d mastered that look when he was young. “Kane, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do—”
His deep-set eyes came back to her. “Was she scared?”
The memory of that night closed in on Rachel again. “I don’t think so.” She felt tears smarting at the back of her eyes and grabbed a deep breath. Tears now would do no good. “She wasn’t really aware,” Rachel added. “It all happened so fast.” Her voice trailed off. She was talking to his back. “Wait,” she said before he reached the door. She wasn’t insensitive to his need to be alone. She wished she could have offered some kind of solace, but what could she have said? That evening had been awful, frightening. She’d lost a wonderful friend. But it didn’t matter what either of them felt. Heather had to come first for both of them. “What about Marnie’s baby?”
Chapter Two
S ilence hung in the air. Seconds on the kitchen wall clock ticked by with excruciating slowness before he swung back, before those eyes locked on hers. “Baby?”
No, he didn’t look baffled. He looked dazed. As much as she wished she could give him time to mourn, she had to make him understand. Heather existed. If he didn’t accept his obligation— She let the thought die for a moment, hating to think of Heather as an obligation. But his acceptance of his responsibility for Heather might be the little one’s only hope for a life that didn’t include foster homes. “Heather—the baby is Marnie’s. You’re her uncle.”
As if someone had poked him hard in the back, it straightened. “So you say.”
What did that mean? Didn’t he believe her? “I’m telling the truth.”
In anger most people shouted, he spoke low. “You come here with a story about my sister and a baby. Okay, I don’t doubt my sister is—” He paused, his gaze dropping to the folded sheets of paper on the table. In an abrupt move he picked them up and unfolded one. Absently he ran a thumb over the seal of Texas on the paper confirming his sister’s death. “Okay. My sister is…gone. You’d have no reason to lie about that.”
She heard a silent but. “You don’t think I’m telling the truth about Heather?”
“The baby could be yours. You could be trying to pawn it off as Marnie’s.”
“Pawn it off!” Fury rose so swiftly Rachel thought she’d lose her good sense and take a swing at him.
“She’s your sister’s baby. Not mine.” He had no idea how much it hurt her to say that, how often she’d made herself remember that, since she had started caring for Heather. If he saw Heather’s gray eyes, eyes so like his own, or touched her and felt the velvety soft skin, he would never turn away from her. But he hadn’t even seen her yet. “Heather is yours.”
Before she could utter a protest, she watched him snag a rain slicker from a hook by the door. A second later it closed behind him. How could he walk away? Heather was his flesh and blood. He was the only one she had. How could he be so unfeeling, so indifferent? And what should she do now? She had no choices, she realized.
Planning to return to the motel for the night, she went to the bedroom and lifted Heather into her arms. Because of Kane’s reaction, misgivings about him nagged at her. Rachel drew Heather closer, wishing for some way to know she was making the right decisions for her.
Since that night, she’d become responsible for Heather. She’d been the one who’d first held Marnie’s baby. She’d cuddled the newborn close while the midwife had frantically tried to save Marnie’s life. After a call to 911, with paramedics crowding Marnie, Rachel had wandered to a far end of the room, rocking the newborn and praying for her friend.
No one’s fault. An unexpected rise in Marnie’s blood pressure. A cerebral hemorrhage. It would have happened at any time. Those were the words said to Rachel. Her friend’s life had been a thin thread, ready to snap. That knowledge had been small consolation.
Rachel had lost a best friend, a woman she’d been as close to as her sister, Gillian. And as Rachel would do for her brother or sister, she would have done anything for Marnie. With her gone, that loyalty transferred to Marnie’s baby, to a child she was struggling not to get too attached to.
Rain slowed to a drizzle by the time Kane reached Tulley’s Bar. His skin and hair damp, he straddled a stool at the scarred wooden bar and downed a whisky quickly, letting the heat burn his throat while he read the death certificate once more.
Because his old man had been a drunkard, Kane drank cautiously and never set foot in Tulley’s before sunset. Too many times his father had reached for a drink to start his day.
He stared at the amber liquid in his glass while he fought a myriad of feelings. The shock from Rachel’s words settled over him. It seemed unreal, impossible. Marnie was gone. His stomach muscles clenched. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been in his life for more than a decade. He’d believed she was somewhere else, that her life was better than the living hell they’d shared with their old man after their mother had died. But Marnie wasn’t happier. She was gone. He would never see her again.
He wanted to vent anger, but who deserved it? And to give in to a softer emotion never occurred to him. He’d blocked any urge to cry when his mother had died. Losing someone else close to him only reinforced something he’d always known. There was danger in letting the heart feel too much.
So what now? Did Rachel have his sister’s belongings? Who’d paid for the funeral? And what about the kid? Was it really his sister’s? If it was, what would he do with it?
At seven the next morning Kane had no answers. Even before he opened his eyes, he cursed the sound of rain thudding against the roof in a steady, syncopated beat. Through his bedroom window he saw the dreary gray sky. In no hurry he stretched on the bed, then roused himself. Rain had canceled yesterday’s tours. Today the Sea Siren would be stuck at dock all day. Yawning, he yanked on jeans and tugged a T-shirt over his head.
In the kitchen he plugged in the coffee brewer. On the table were the papers Rachel had given him. He unfolded the birth certificate. Heather Riley. He noted that someone had typed the word unknown on the line for the father’s name. The seal of Texas made the document legal. He closed his fingers around it. Calmer now, he could talk sensibly to Rachel. With only half a dozen motels in town, he assumed he’d have no problem finding her.
He gave himself half an hour to nurse a couple of cups of coffee, shower and shave, then drove his truck down Main Street toward the Sea Siren to talk to his deckhand before he started his search.
Instead of going to the boat first, as he spotted Rachel’s van parked outside Benny’s Café, he negotiated the truck into an adjacent parking lot. No amount of avoidance would work. He parked his truck and strolled toward the café. Through its windows, he saw her.
Head bowed, she sat in one of the blue vinyl booths. As he opened the café door, the bell above it jingled. The café was decorated in blue and white. A breakfast crowd, mostly locals, occupied the stools at the counter and several tables. Heads swiveled toward Kane before he shut the door behind him. He received no nods of hello, no smiles. He never expected any.
People believed he was his father’s child, and Ian Riley had ranked low on everyone’s list of favorite people by the time he’d died. For good reasons, they’d claimed. He’d come to town, sweet-talked Kathleen Feenley, and got her pregnant. He’d ruined a good girl. But no one had really objected to him until he’d become an embarrassment, the town drunk. Then Kane had committed his own offense. He didn’t need their condemnations. He damned himself whenever he thought about Charlie’s last day.
Ignoring stares, he weaved a path around some tables to reach Rachel. Though no sun shone through the windows, she looked sunny. He figured it was a visual thing. She wore faded jeans and a bright yellow top that clung gently to the curves of her breasts. Because too many emotions remained close to the surface, he steeled himself when he saw sympathy in her expression. “Guess we need to talk.”
“Sometimes it’s difficult for me to believe Marnie’s gone,” she said with a world of hurt in her voice that made Kane certain she wasn’t giving lip service but was telling the truth. “This must be such a hard time for you.”
“A shock,” he said candidly. He figured that this woman, with her overabundance of kindness and too-caring manner, set herself up to be hurt easily. While he slid into the booth across from her, she angled to her left. Was the baby there? Was it a boy or girl? A girl. He recalled Rachel saying “she” when in need of a place to change the diaper.
“I—” She closed her mouth when Rosie Furnam, the oldest of the café’s waitresses, a grandmother with a love for gossip, came near.
“Do you want something?” She looked less than pleased.
Kane never ate in town, hadn’t for years since Charlie had died. For meals out, he would drive to one of the towns nearby. “Nothing.”
“More coffee?” she asked Rachel.
Briefly Rachel’s eyes met his before raising to Rosie’s questioning stare. “No, thank you.”
Kane waited until Rosie finally sauntered away. “Tell me what happened to my sister.”
Rachel explained what the doctors in the emergency room had told her.
No one’s fault. Those words gave Kane no comfort. He glanced at the wall of windows, away from the soft compassion in the green eyes studying him. He wanted none of it. “You handled the funeral, you said.”
As if it pained her, she avoided meeting his eyes. “We had a small memorial service.” She concentrated on the dark liquid in her cup. “Several people from the trailer court, and former co-workers came.”
He didn’t want to know the details. “Let me know how much I owe you.” When she raised her head, he sensed she planned a protest. “She was my sister.” My responsibility. Except he’d forgotten that, hadn’t he? “And if I owe you anything else—”
“Please. She was my friend.” Moisture glistened in her eyes. “A wonderful friend. I’d have done anything for her. I wanted her to go to the hospital.” She was rambling as if trying to understand what went wrong. “I had money saved. She could have gone.”
Despite years of separation, Kane knew his sister wouldn’t take a handout from anyone. He wasn’t sure she’d have even welcomed help from him. They’d had to accept too much charity as kids. “She always was stubborn. If she didn’t want to take your help, you couldn’t have done anything to change her mind.”
“Thank you. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but—”
“I’m not doing anything,” he countered, because he wasn’t trying to offer comfort. Instinctively her chin rose a notch. Better she was offended. He didn’t need this woman as a friend. If she’d thought he planned to make this easy, she was wrong.
“I was telling the truth. Heather is Marnie’s,” she said softer as if suddenly aware how many people were staring at them.
“Marnie named her?” Less stunned, he admitted now that he really hadn’t doubted her. She’d have had no reason to lie about the baby, and like the death certificate for his sister, a birth certificate for the baby forced the truth on him.
“Heather was the name she’d said she liked best, the one I used for her baptism. Do you like it?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s fine. Who’s the father? He wasn’t named on the birth certificate.”
Rachel toyed with a spoon. “I really don’t know.”
“Why don’t you?” Settling back in the booth, he stretched denim-clad legs beneath the table. “You claim you and my sister were good friends.”
Inches from them, Rosie lingered at a table. Revealing discretion, Rachel waited for the waitress to move away. “We were. But Marnie never told me the father’s name. I asked, but she wouldn’t tell me.”
“How did you get the baby?”
“During her pregnancy, Marnie had written a note, had it notarized. It gave me temporary guardianship until Heather was with you. That protected her, kept her from falling into the system.” A slim, almost shy smile curved her lips. “I rushed here with her before anyone challenged the paper.”
He’d guess she was one of those honest-to-the-core people who didn’t even park illegally.
Her gaze shifted to the window. “The rain’s stopped.” Vacationers’ cars lined the town’s main street, bumper to bumper. Summer tourists ambled along the sidewalks now, drawn to the souvenir shops and art galleries.
Inside the café, they’d become the center of attention. Regulars at the counter stared their way. One of the waitresses cleared a table at a snail’s pace instead of getting an order to the cook’s counter. Kane thought the woman across from him needed to know. “Being with me isn’t the popular thing to do.”
Rachel met his stare with an equally steady one. “It never was. I was warned years ago to keep my distance from you.” She sounded slightly amused. “You were ‘the wild one,’” she said, a laugh definitely lacing her voice.
Eyes darted their way again. Questioning looks fixed on them when Rachel sounded as if she was having fun with Kane. As Rachel slid out of the booth, he expected one of the town’s do-gooders to rush over and deliver a warning about him. Bending forward, she grabbed the handle of the cushioned seat that held the baby and lifted it. Kane couldn’t see his sister’s child.
“I’m not fifteen now. I prefer to make my own judgments. I’ll see you at the house,” she said, loudly enough for everyone to hear.
He considered grabbing her arm, telling her there was no more to be said. But with her comment he imagined the shock rippling through the people seated at the tables and counter. If he caused a confrontation, he’d just make her grist for the gossip mill. He didn’t care what anyone thought, but he had enough guilt to bear without being responsible for the town ostracizing her for getting involved with him. No, thanks. He didn’t need any of this. His life had been simple, and he planned to keep it that way.
At the house Rachel stood on the porch, waiting for Kane. Her hand remained clenched around the handle of the baby carrier. At her feet was a suitcase and a bag, bigger than the denim one draped over her shoulder. This one was decorated with pink and blue ducks.
When he climbed out of his truck, she moved closer to the porch railing. “I have all of her things in the van.”
How much could someone that small have? Stalling, he stopped by the mailbox at the curb. They needed to talk this out now. She needed to understand that he had no room in his life for the baby. “She’s not staying,” he said as much for Rachel’s benefit as a confirmation that this was best.
As he joined her on the porch, he saw disbelief sweep across her face. “You won’t take her?”
