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Brad didn’t argue with the need for discretion. The Courage Bay Bar and Grill was the off-duty hangout for the community’s police, fire and medical personnel. Anything overheard here would be on the gossip hotline of every emergency team by morning.
He quietly followed his friend out. A cool night breeze was coming off the ocean, the air filled with one of his favorite scents—the sea. But Brad wasn’t in an appreciative mood.
“Is this why you suddenly came up with the suggestion that I donate sperm last year? So she could get it?”
“No,” Ed said. “When I told you the Crispin Fertility Clinic was willing to pay top dollar for sperm from doctors, I did it because the director asked me to pass the word, and I knew you could use the money. Those were the only reasons. I swear.”
Brad had met Detective Ed Corbin during his first year at Courage Bay Hospital. A burglar cut himself when he’d tried to escape capture by jumping through a plate-glass window. Ed brought him into the E.R. for treatment.
While a nurse was seeing to his wounds, the guy grabbed a knife and took her hostage. Brad had kept the thief’s attention by enticing him with offers of drugs he could sell on the street in exchange for letting the nurse go—giving Ed time to circle behind the man and subdue him.
They’d made a good team that day, and good friends ever since. Brad had never known Ed to lie. He didn’t believe he was doing so now.
“What happened?” Brad asked.
“I stopped by Emily’s place about three months ago and saw all these sperm-bank questionnaires spread out on her table. When I asked her what was going on, she told me she’d decided to have a kid by artificial insemination.”
“You didn’t know before that?”
Ed shook his head. “Nearly blew me away. Never occurred to me she’d do something like that. I tried my best to talk her out of it. But Emily’s unmovable when she’s made up her mind.”
“What possessed you to tell her about me?” Brad asked.
“I figured if she was stupid enough to have some stranger’s kid, she should at least be sure she was getting good sperm. I mean, what would you have done if she were your sister?”
There was a protective note in Ed’s tone Brad had never heard before. They rarely talked about the personal stuff, which was why Brad hadn’t even known the name of Ed’s sister before today. Emily was clearly very special to him.
Brad found his anger at his friend beginning to fade. “I’ve never had a sister.”
“Count your blessings. They’re a damn pain. You love them, and all you want is the best for them. But what happens when you try to help? They tell you to butt out of their business.”
“You should have listened to her this time.”
“I couldn’t. She was going to the wrong place. The Crispin Fertility Clinic is the only one that does a thorough background check on its donors to be sure that they are who they claim. I told Emily about Jill Crispin alerting us when she discovered that a guy using a phony name and profession had applied. He turned out to be an ex-con with two outstanding warrants. That con had gotten away with donating sperm to every other damn clinic around because they never checked up on his lies. Who knows how many more there are like him around?”
“Wasn’t steering her to the right fertility clinic enough?” Brad asked. “Did you have to tell her about me?”
“Yeah, I did. You should have seen the flakes she had to pick from even at Crispin. I read the questionnaires these guys filled out. Eighty percent of them were dumb college jocks, barely literate, just looking for some extra cash. The idea that Emily’s genes would be mixing with theirs made me want to puke.”
“What about the other twenty percent?”
“I suppose some of them were decent, if you could believe what they wrote. The Crispin Clinic is careful that their donors are physically healthy and legally who they say they are. But they have no way of knowing whether these guys are telling the truth when they answer questions about their goals in life and such.”
Brad had to admit that was true. He could have lied about those things when he filled out the forms, and no one would have been the wiser.
“But when I tried to impress this fact on Emily, she turned a deaf ear,” Ed continued. “Kept telling me she’d decide who was best. Said she didn’t need me to make her decisions for her.”
“Then why did she take your recommendation on me?”
“I wasn’t sure she had. She wanted the best and I wanted the best for her, so naturally I told her all about you so she’d know which one of the anonymous donor questionnaires was yours. But the only thing she said was that if she picked your sperm, I was never going to know and neither were you.”
“I know,” Brad said. “She quoted what I entered on that damn questionnaire verbatim. And when I called her on it, she did the one thing she knew would make me back off.”
“What was that?”
“She pretended to be psychic.”
“How could she know that would make you back off?”
“Because I put it on the questionnaire. When asked what was the one thing that would make me avoid otherwise nice and pleasant people, I said it would be if they turned out to be superstitious or believed in all that psychic mumbo jumbo.”
“Brad, I’m sorry about this. She warned me to say nothing to you. I admit I wanted her to select you for her sake, but I never intended for you to find out.”
“I wish to hell I hadn’t,” Brad said on a long exhale. “What does her husband think about all this?”
“Husband? Emily’s not married.”
“But she shows Barrett as her married name. I thought—”
“Oh, she was married. Just not anymore. Hell, she doesn’t even date now.”
Brad stopped walking, grabbed his friend’s arm, halting him in his stride. “Are you telling me your sister is planning to raise the baby without a father?”
“She’ll be a good mother,” Ed said. “I’m not just saying that because she’s my sister. Emily’s wanted a kid for years, but things…didn’t work out for her. She’s thrilled to be having this baby.”
Brad released his friend’s arm and sank to the edge of a nearby concrete street planter, putting his head in his hands. This was getting worse by the minute.
“What’s wrong?”
He raised his eyes at the concern in Ed’s voice. “My brother and I never had a dad. He took off when we were young, and we never saw or heard from him again. I had a great mother. The best. It’s not enough. A kid needs a father. I always swore my kid would have one.”
“Brad, legally, the child Emily’s going to have…it’s not your kid.”
He didn’t need Ed to tell him that. Brad was only too aware that he’d signed away all legal rights to his sperm.
Yes, the money he’d received had helped to pay down his school loans. But the real reason he’d involved himself in the process was because he believed he was doing the right thing helping an infertile couple conceive.
He never imagined that he’d find out who got his sperm. Or that she’d be a single woman.
“What a goddamn mess,” he muttered to the night sky.
Ed plopped down beside him. “If you want to shoot me, I’ll loan you my gun.”
His friend’s expression told Brad how badly he felt—despite the fact that he’d been trying to do the right thing for his sister.
“I’m such a lousy shot, I’d probably miss your ugly mug and hit an innocent bystander instead.”
Ed nodded. “Then you’d have to patch him up, and I’d have to run you in. See your point. Too damn much paperwork.”
They sat for a long moment in silence as cars whizzed by on the street and several pedestrians flashed them curious looks as they passed. Brad was only minimally aware of his surroundings.
He was thinking about how careful he’d been in his relationships with women. Not once had he had unprotected sex. He’d been so sure that something like this was never going to happen to him.
“I have to talk to your sister,” he said finally.
“What are you planning to say?”
“Haven’t a clue. But I have to do something. Now that I know who’s going to have my…the baby and how it’s going to be raised, I can’t just turn my back and pretend it isn’t happening. Could you?”
“No, I guess not,” Ed agreed.
“Do you know if she’s home?”
“She’s out having dinner with friends tonight. Probably won’t be back until late. But you could catch her at the Founders Day Celebration tomorrow. I’m going if you want to ride along with me.”
The Founders Day Celebration was the biggest event of the year—if not the decade—and had been hogging the local headlines for days. Everyone wanted to attend, and from what Brad had heard, if you didn’t have some pretty high-up connections, you couldn’t get in.
“You playing bodyguard to some dignitary?” he asked.
“No, strictly there as Emily’s brother. She’s been putting it together for the past few months so she’s my in.”
Brad was sure he couldn’t have heard right. “Your sister is in charge of the Founders Day Celebration?”
“I take it she didn’t tell you.”
“She told me she was a gardener.”
Ed chuckled. “A psychic and a gardener. Boy, did she have fun with you today. Emily’s the curator of the city’s Botanical Gardens and a member of the Historical Society. She also has a Ph.D. in botany and she’s written a couple of books on medicinal plants.”
“Jeez,” Brad said as his head went back in his hands.
“Yeah, I know. A damn overachiever. Sure put the pressure on me and my brother while we were growing up. Our parents were always so button-popping proud of her. Still are. I planned to push her off a cliff when I got big enough.”
“Can’t imagine what stopped you.”
“It was this annoying habit she had of always making me feel like I was the talented one. No matter what sport I played, she was in the stands cheering for me and threatening the other team’s members with the loss of various body parts if they so much as harmed a hair on my head.”
The scene materialized so clearly in Brad’s mind that it made him wish he’d had such a sister.
“My pass to the ceremonies tomorrow is for two,” Ed said. “You can be my date if you promise not to wear anything too low-cut.”
“I’ll see what I have in my wardrobe,” Brad said dryly. “If you were me, how would you approach her on this?”
“Beats me.”
“Come on. You’ve known her all your life. You must have a feel for what would work?”
“It’s precisely because I have known her all my life that I can assure you nothing will work. Emily’s made up her mind to have this kid alone and raise it by herself. And that’s what she’ll do.”
Brad looked out at the night, hoping for inspiration. But his mind was as hazy and blank as the starless sky.
Ed grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him to his feet. “Come on. We’re going back to the bar and tie one on.”
“You think getting drunk is going to help?”
“I sure hope so. Tomorrow, I have tickets to the hottest event of the year and look who I’m taking.”
THE TEMPERATURE WAS IN the seventies, the air a fragrant kiss across Emily’s cheek. In the distance, the Pacific Ocean whispered against white sands. To the north, south and east, the steep mountains circled into a soft blue sky. The gardens all around her were ablaze with sunlight and the beauty of growing things.
“You even arranged for us to have perfect weather,” Dorothy said near her ear. “I am impressed.”
Emily sent her friend a smile.
The Botanical Gardens were filled with the by-invitation-only spectators. Chief of police Max Zirinsky was among them and so were a lot of his plainclothes officers, unobtrusively milling about and keeping a watchful eye.
On a slightly raised platform sat the city council along with Phoebe Landru and Oliver Smithson, Dorothy’s fellow members of the managing board of the Historical Society. The local KSEA TV news crew had set up cameras. Ken Kerr, the society’s photographer, was busy taking pictures with his thirty-five millimeter.
“All we need now is the mayor,” Dorothy said glancing at her watch.
As though hearing his cue, the newly elected mayor, Patrick O’Shea, turned the corner. The TV crew immediately aimed their cameras at him and started to roll. Emily went over to greet him.
The mayor shook her hand warmly, wearing a genuine smile. In Emily’s experience, there were two types of people who went into politics—egoists and idealists. The preponderance of officeholders fit into the first category. Patrick O’Shea, thankfully, fit into the second.
He’d been fire chief before running for mayor, not the kind of job that most candidates for public office held. But maybe the kind that they should. O’Shea knew how to put the welfare of the people of Courage Bay first.
Emily accompanied him to the platform and showed him to his seat. Dorothy had taken her place next to the other members of the Historical Society. The clock in the Botanical Gardens’ Heritage Museum was striking the hour. Everything was in place and on time.
As Emily turned to the crowd before her, she felt proud to be a part of this historical moment for Courage Bay. Raising her hands for quiet, she caught sight of her brother at the right of the large crowd and smiled. When she saw who was standing beside him, the smile froze on her lips.
Oh, no. What in the hell was he doing here?
Emily forced herself to turn her eyes and thoughts away. She was going to let nothing and no one interfere with this momentous occasion. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great pleasure to welcome you to our Founders Day Celebration. And it is my deep honor to present to you the mayor of Courage Bay, Patrick O’Shea.”
Emily took her seat beside Dorothy as Mayor O’Shea approached the podium accompanied by enthusiastic applause. When it had died down, he turned to Emily and publicly thanked her for all her hard work in making the celebration a success.
Dorothy rose and began to clap. The crowd quickly joined her as the mayor, city council and other members of the Historical Society’s managing board also got to their feet and applauded. All this focused and very unexpected attention made Emily glad she wasn’t a blusher.
Once the audience had sat down again, the mayor faced forward.
“I want to tell you a story my father told me when I was no more than five,” he began. “It’s a story I’ve passed down to my children. It’s one I hope you will pass down to yours.”
The crowd listened with hushed attention.
“In January of 1848, an American ship called Ranger was caught in a terrible storm at sea and blown off course to these Southern California shores,” O’Shea said. “When the ship was struck by lightning and began to sink, its exhausted crew would certainly have drowned if not for the brave Indians of this land who risked their lives fighting the raging current to bring them safely to shore. In honor of the selfless act of their rescuers, the survivors of Ranger named this settlement Courage Bay.”
Emily knew this story well. Still, she never tired of hearing it told. These events were a proud heritage that she and all the residents of Courage Bay shared. She found herself caught up in the favorite tale.
“When the Indian chief invited the shipwrecked crew to stay, they readily agreed,” the mayor continued. “Protected by this steep mountain range rising on three sides, our quiet community of Courage Bay remained virtually isolated from the outside world until the late nineteenth century when a road was cut through from the north. Even so, it wasn’t until 1904 when the citizens filed their town map with the county recorder’s office that Courage Bay was officially founded.”
