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Snatching the bag of sandwiches and drinks, Ryan turned his back on the lighthouse to follow Leah down the sandy trail that wound between the grassy dunes. A bend in the path and suddenly there was the Gulf of Mexico lapping against a dock that jutted far out into the blue-gray water. To his left was the city of Vine Beach, almost close enough to hear the gulls begging at the marina, and straight ahead beyond the dock was what appeared to be an island.
“That’s Sand Island,” Leah said as if reading his mind. “It’s a great place to picnic, too.”
“Duly noted.”
Ryan shifted the bag and glanced to his right. Burkett was correct. From this vantage point he could easily make out the broken and charred columns—three at his count, though there could easily have been four or five.
The house sat on a ridge overlooking the Gulf on one side and, from what he could imagine, rolling fields where palominos grazed on the other. It must have been a beautiful place.
Leah came up beside him and shaded her eyes with her hand. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, silently she turned to walk toward the dock.
Ryan followed her, watched her spread the Beach Mart plastic tablecloth over the ancient boards, and then settled down beside her to place the bag of food and drinks between them.
Below the dock, waves lapped against the pilings then rushed past to break on the sandy shore. Unlike the beach, however, these waves were gentler. More motion than foam.
“There’s a sand bar about forty yards out,” Leah said as she handed him his pastrami on rye. “It keeps the surf from breaking so hard.” She found her sandwich then tucked the bag under the tablecloth. “Makes for great fishing and, if you’re a little kid, some seriously good swimming.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” he said as he unwrapped his lunch. “Must have been quite a view from up at the house.”
“It was.” She said the words softly, as if she might be remembering. And then, just as quickly as it appeared, her look of nostalgia disappeared.
Ryan knew he had to tread softly.
He searched for something to fill the silence that lengthened uncomfortably between them. “Have you always worked at Pop’s?”
She chuckled. “No. Pop wouldn’t hear of it. He insisted I get my education and see the world.”
“And you did?”
“I did.”
When she didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, Ryan continued. “But now you’re back in Vine Beach.”
“I am.” A trio of gulls screeched overhead, temporarily distracting her. “So, Ryan, what makes a Houston fireman decide to leave the big city behind and take a job in Vine Beach?”
Interesting. Either Leah didn’t want to talk about herself or she didn’t want to talk about the fire. He took a bite to stall the answer that he didn’t want to give.
“Miss Leah!” a child squealed.
Ryan followed the sound to spy a fair-haired girl of no more than seven or eight racing down the path. A few steps behind came Riley Burkett carrying a pair of cane poles and a small cooler.
Giving thanks for the welcome redirection in conversation, Ryan left his sandwich and climbed to his feet. “Hey there,” he said.
“We meet again.” Burkett grinned at Leah as she rose to hug the girl. “Hope we’re not crashing the party.”
“No,” Leah said. “Not at all. Ryan and I were just having a sandwich to celebrate his new lease.”
Ryan gave her a sideways look. Is that what they were doing? Celebrating? He hadn’t thought of it that way, but the idea bore considering.
“’Preciate you giving Ryan my number, Leah,” the older man said as he set down the cooler at the edge of the dock. “I think he managed to find a nice enough place, don’t you?” He winked at Leah.
Leah shook her head, puzzled. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it. But it sounds nice.”
Riley looked confused. “I thought—”
The girl raced past to tug at Burkett’s sleeve. “Grandpa Riley, can we fish now?”
“Sure we can, Brooke.” He nodded toward Ryan. “But first I’d like to introduce you to a new friend of mine.”
She looked up at him all eyes and freckles and her smile revealed two missing front teeth.
“I’m Ryan,” he said as he stuck out his hand to shake. “What’s your name?”
“Brooke Wilson. Just Brooke, not Brookie. My daddy calls me Brookie but he forgets I’m not a baby sometimes.” She gave Ryan an appraising look. “Are you Miss Leah’s boyfriend?”
“No,” he said in unison with Leah. Chuckling, he added, “Pleased to meet you, Brooke Wilson.”
Leah nodded toward the cooler. “How about I help you bait your hook and we see what you can catch?”
She brushed past Ryan to take the cane pole from Riley. Brooke reached into the cooler and handed Leah something that looked strangely like a piece of hot dog.
“What’re you using for bait there?” Ryan asked as he moved toward them.
“My lunch,” Brooke said. “Grandpa Riley promised if I ate one of my hot dogs I could take the other two fishing.”
“Hey,” Riley said. “At least it got her to eat her lunch. You have no idea how hard it is to get that child to eat. She’d rather do just about anything instead of sit down for a proper lunch. Everything’s yucky. Except hot dogs, that is, but only occasionally.”
Leah finished fitting the bait onto the hook then tugged at the girl’s ponytail. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“Teacher workday, apparently,” Riley said. “Her sisters are busy working on their Girl Scout cooking badges with Amy, so Susan and I were treated to an afternoon with Brooke.”
“Lucky you,” Leah said, and her tone and expression showed she meant it. “Come on, Brooke. Let’s go see what you can catch for dinner.”
She screwed up her face into a grimace. “Fish are yucky.”
Riley chuckled. “See what I mean?”
“Cute kid,” Ryan said.
“Yes, she is.” He looked past Ryan, presumably to watch Leah and Brooke for a moment. “My grandbabies are the blessing I never expected I would have.”
“Oh?”
The Realtor returned his attention to Ryan. “I married young but my first wife and I were never able to have children. When she passed away I didn’t think I’d marry again, much less inherit grandchildren in the bargain. Then I met Susan at church and got to know her. Before long she and the Lord changed my mind about marriage.” He shook his head. “Her son Eric’s the town veterinarian. He’s married to Amy, who gave birth to my grandson six weeks ago.”
“That’s great, Riley,” Ryan said.
Brooke squealed, and Ryan turned to see that the girl had indeed caught something. Leah had kicked off her sandals and now stood with the waves lapping at her ankles as she held the fishing line a few inches away from the hook. At the end of the line was a wriggling fish. From this distance it looked like a small flounder. November in Texas. Ryan smiled. Where else could a trip to the beach less than two months before Christmas include getting wet without shivering?
“Be right there, honey,” Riley called before he once again regarded Ryan. “All I know is that God sure turned my world upside down, but everything worked out okay.”
He watched Burkett trot away. God had turned his world upside down, too. Would he ever feel that way? By the time he’d said goodbye to Burkett and his granddaughter and deposited Leah back in front of the beauty salon, he still had no answer to the question.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” she said as she reached for the door handle.
“Just thinking,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
Her smile was genuine. “No, it’s fine, actually,” she added after a moment’s silence.
“Leah,” he said slowly as he once again attempted to ask about the fire. “Tell me about what happened to your home. The fire, I mean. If you want to.”
“Not any more than you want to tell me why you’re in Vine Beach, apparently.”
She looked away. “I had a nice time.”
So he’d hit a nerve. Ryan paused only a second before deciding to allow her abrupt change of topic. “Me, too.” He slid her a grin he hoped matched hers. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around Vine Beach.”
“Count on it,” she said, as she returned her attention to Ryan. “Especially if you like the food at Pop’s.”
“Which I do.”
She climbed out to lean against the door. “Banana cream pie’s our specialty, you know, but my favorite’s the buttermilk.”
“Buttermilk pie? No, thanks.”
She straightened to close the door then regarded him through the open window. “Have you tried it?” When he shook his head she continued. “Then don’t knock it until you have. Now take care, fireman. I’ve played hooky from the restaurant for too long. Orlando’s going to be wondering where I’ve been.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said to her retreating back.
A thought occurred and he leaned out the window to call her name. When she turned to face him, he said, “You didn’t tell me what days you offer buttermilk pie.”
Again she smiled. “Every day,” she said. “Lunch and dinner.”
His laughter echoed in the suddenly empty Jeep as he watched her toss her red hair in the breeze then climb into an SUV parked a few spaces down. He was still watching as the vehicle pulled away and disappeared down Main Street.
Again the question of what God might be doing tugged at his mind. And again, no answer came. But he did have a new job to prepare for and a dog waiting back in Houston for a ride to his new home. And that was enough to think about for now.
That and the twinkle in Leah Berry’s eyes when she invited him to Pop’s for buttermilk pie.
What would happen to that twinkle when Leah found out he was about to start digging for information on the mysterious fire that destroyed her family’s home?
Chapter Four
Ryan shifted into Reverse and was about to pull out onto Main Street when he spied Mayor Jack Murdoch standing beside his truck. As their gazes met, the mayor motioned for him to stop.
“What’s up, Mayor?” Ryan called.
The old man crossed the road to lean against the fender of the Jeep. “Got a minute? I thought maybe we’d take a ride. Save me the time of showing you around come Monday morning.”
He thought about it. With nothing back in Houston to hurry home to, there seemed no harm in taking a spin around town with his new boss.
“Sure. Why not?”
Nodding, the mayor gestured toward his vehicle. “We’ll take mine.”
By the time Ryan reached the truck, the mayor had the windows down and the engine humming. They made their way along Main then turned left at Vine Beach Road as silence reigned, which was fine by Ryan. He never did well with small talk anyway.
“Where’d you end up settling?” the mayor finally asked.
“Here, actually,” Ryan said as the collection of beach houses came into view around a bend in the road. “The yellow one with the green shutters is mine.” For six months, anyway went unsaid, but barely.
Murdoch answered him with an agreeable nod then adjusted his hat and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You were something over in Houston. A regular HFD superstar.”
Ryan stole a sideways glance at the mayor and wondered what else the man knew about his days at HFD. “I just watched and learned, and I guess did all right.”
“You did more than all right, boy.” He paused and worked his jaw a bit, looking as if he were chewing on the words he would say next. “I’m sorry about the loss of your wife.”
So he knew. Ryan mustered up a nod of thanks but otherwise kept silent. The polite conversation that went with being a widower had yet to get any easier.
“Must have been tough,” Murdoch said. “What with you being a first responder and nothing you could do to save your bride.”
The image that statement brought forth was one Ryan knew would never permanently leave his mind. The image of his wife floating unconscious, his inability to revive her. It was all there just as if it had only occurred.
“Yeah,” he managed to say, but only because he figured no response would cause Murdoch to keep talking. “So what’s out here that you wanted to show me?” he asked to change the subject.
Up ahead, Pop’s Seafood Shack loomed, its tin roof and pale weathered boards shining almost golden in the afternoon sun. Mayor Murdoch pulled the vehicle to a stop at the edge of the lot and shut off the engine. Instantly the dull roar of the waves filled the air.
While Ryan watched, the mayor reached into his pocket and pulled out a tin. Offering a mint to Ryan, who declined, he then popped one into his mouth. Murdoch chewed on the spearmint for a moment. Finally, he shook his head.
“I’m just going to be plain honest, Ryan. That all right with you?” When Ryan nodded, the mayor continued. “You’re young.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, though it had been a long time since he’d felt it. With thirty on the horizon, old seemed as if it was heading toward him like a freight train.
“When your uncle Mike called me, I didn’t see how I could manage a full-time fireman’s position here in Vine Beach, what with the winter here and the tourists pretty much gone. But Mike and me, we go way back, so I decided I’d do what I could. ’Sides, we were gonna have to replace Carl Berry before tourist season anyway. Thing is, he never took a salary for it, though nobody expected the new guy to do the same.”
He looked to Ryan for a response. “Yes, sir” was the best he could do. Ryan knew Uncle Mike had gone way out on a limb to call in a favor from his old army buddy, but he had no idea the last chief had done it free.
But then Uncle Mike knew how important it had been to Ryan to do as Jenna had asked and make a new life at the beach where the two of them had one day hoped to live. Not in Galveston. It was too soon to move there, given the amount of time they had spent planning their future lives in that city.
Instead, he’d gone to Uncle Mike to ask him to look out for any jobs in beach towns that weren’t too far from Houston and home. To his surprise, the Vine Beach job had come just in time for their anniversary. Even now Ryan didn’t know whether that was an omen or just one more way for him to torture himself about a marriage that was over before it ever got started.
“Then I thought, well, I do need to carefully consider my responsibility to the good people of Vine Beach. And part of that responsibility means keeping them safe, sometimes from themselves. Don’t you agree?”
Now, that was a strange statement. “I suppose so,” he said slowly.
Murdoch’s attention shifted to the restaurant and rested there. “Some folks, they just don’t see the need to follow the rules.” He jerked a thumb toward Pop’s. “A firetrap if ever I’ve seen one. Not that I’m the expert. That’d be you.”
A man didn’t have to look hard to see the potential for danger in the ancient wood structure. And danger was what he specialized in preventing. Strangely uncomfortable, Ryan looked away. Thus far he’d only made one friend in this town, and even that friendship seemed rife with potential problems. Not a good sign.
