Protector With A Past

They really weren’t supposed to be out here by themselves at all, but it wasn’t the first time Davey had taken the boat out in the early morning. He was a born sailor, Dad had told the other fathers at the yacht club that day he’d taken them there. He’d ruffled Davey’s hair proudly and bought him a white sailing cap with the club’s crest on it, but there hadn’t been any small enough to fit Julia. She hadn’t minded. It had been enough just to be out with them, away from her mother’s sad silences.

And right now it was enough to be here on the lake with Davey, even though he was kind of mad at her. She was wearing the fat orange life belt that jammed up under her chin so high when she was sitting down that she had to keep tugging on it to keep it from touching her mouth. It tasted like wet dog, too. But Davey wasn’t wearing anything over his striped T-shirt, and that was her fault. Julia felt the heavy orange canvas creeping up her chin to her mouth again and pulled it down. She was sure she’d put both life jackets under the seat last night, she thought miserably. But when they’d gotten out onto the lake and Davey had told her to take them out, she’d only found one.

One of the very best things about having him for a big brother was that he didn’t stay mad long, though. He was already smiling at her again, pointing at a blue heron flying low across the lake. His best friend Cord knew all about the birds and the animals that lived around the lake because his ancestors had always been here, not like their family, who only came here for the summers and then went back to their big house on Long Island for the rest of the year.

Cord was just as good a sailor as Davey was, but when Julia had asked him if his father belonged to the yacht club he’d scowled. Then one corner of his mouth had gone up in a funny kind of a smile and he’d pulled at her pigtails and told her that his dad didn’t have time to belong to clubs. Afterward Davey had told her not to ask dumb questions, and if she had to, to ask him first. But she’d known that Cord hadn’t really been angry with her, because he’d found a perfectly round stone later that day, and he’d given it to her for good luck.

They were changing direction. Davey had told her it was called tacking, and Julia had thought at first he’d said attacking, because when it happened the boom came across the boat and if you weren’t careful it could hit you. She looked out across the water to where their house was, big and white, with the lawn that Cord’s dad had mowed yesterday looking like green velvet.

Just then the heron circled back, maybe to have another look at them. Davey glanced up as the wide-winged shadow passed over him.

And the boom attacked him.

It was like watching one of the movies that Dad had taken the year Davey learned to dive off the high board. Dad had sat in the dark in their living room, running the movie over and over again, backward and forward and slowing it down so he could show Davey all the things he was doing wrong. After that, Davey had practiced and practiced until the instructor at the swim club had told him he wanted to put him on the diving team. But when his dive was finally perfect and he’d shown Dad, he’d never gone back to the pool again.

It looked just like the movie when Dad slowed it down, Julia thought, sitting scrunched up on the hard wooden seat and watching Davey with her eyes opened so wide they hurt. The boom swung over like it was going through molasses and then it hit Davey’s head with a solid thunk just as he started to duck. Slowly she saw his neck snap sideways. Slowly the rope he’d been holding fell from his fingers, but it didn’t hit the deck right away. It seemed to hang in the air at the level of his waist, and then it was down by his knees, and then it was tangled around his feet.

But Davey’s feet were moving, too, rising up into the air with the same kind of slow motion that everything around her seemed to have, the toes of his shoes touching each other in a V shape as he started to fall over the side of the boat. He looked like a seesaw, Julia thought. His hip was on the edge of the boat and his feet were still sliding up through the thick air in that weird and frightening way but his head was already touching the water.

Any second now the seesaw would come up again. Any second now the movie would start running backward and Davey would slowly tip back into the boat and his feet would go down on the deck and his eyes would open and everything would be the way it was supposed to be and she would laugh and tell him how funny he’d looked and he’d start laughing, too, and then they’d go home together and maybe this afternoon Cord’s mom might take them to town for ice creams. Any second now all that would happen.

Except all of a sudden the movie started running really, really fast.

She saw Davey’s striped T-shirt sliding under the water and then his legs and his white sneakers, still tangled up in the rope, and the rope started snaking over the side of the boat until it reached the end and it stretched tight from the cleat it was tied to.

It felt like there was something big sitting on her chest, not letting her breathe. Holding onto the edge of the boat, Julia slid off the seat onto her knees. She was too afraid to stand up because the deck was moving up and down, and instead of going in a straight line the Sunfish felt like it was going to tip over onto its side. She bit her lip and scrambled over to where the rope was rubbing the white-painted wood and she tried to pull on it, but it stayed tight and the thing that was sitting on her chest seemed to be getting heavier and heavier and she couldn’t get any air into her at all.

Then the wind shifted again and the little Sunfish picked up speed and the rope rolled over her fingers and she started screaming and screaming and far off by the shore she could see Cord Hunter, Davey’s very best friend, jumping into his dad’s old motorboat and heading out towards her….

Nothing had been the same after that. Julia stood in the dark bedroom and felt the predawn breeze coming through the pushed-out screen and went deeper into the past.

She was only five, and she was frightened. Her mother always had a glass in her hand and fell asleep downstairs with the television all fuzzy late at night, and when her father looked at her it seemed like he couldn’t even see her. Sometimes she was scared that if she held out her own hand to look at it she’d be able to see right through it herself.

She needed somewhere dark and safe to hide—somewhere even if she was invisible, it wouldn’t matter anyway. Somewhere so dark that everything was invisible and she could just wrap her arms around her legs and sit without making a sound and no one would be able to find her….

She moved like a sleepwalker out of the bedroom and down the hall to the side door that opened onto the garden where her mother had sat and pretended to read all those years ago, and as she passed by the broken redwood chaise that she’d never bothered to remove since she’d come back here to live she thought she smelled Shalimar, her mother’s favorite perfume.

She shivered. She kept moving.

Somewhere dark, somewhere that was darker than the night and darker than the woods behind the house. Somewhere a little girl would be able to hide for as long as she wanted. Somewhere small and safe. Somewhere no one would look except another little girl who’d once gone looking for a safe hiding place.

Her feet, still clad in the backless slippers, moved through the wet grass as surely and steadily as if they were following a path they’d worn down themselves. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow.

Find the child. Save the child. Be the child….

She went deeper still, losing herself in the child she’d once been, and then even deeper, searching out the fear and pain of the tiny redhead who’d stared at her with the still blue gaze of a doll. In the silence of her mind she could hear a small, frightened whisper, almost inaudible.

Be the child. She concentrated, and the whisper became clearer….

The boathouse.

Julia stood like a statue on the wet lawn, her mind still operating on two levels and with both levels possessing the knowledge she needed. Only by letting herself become the child she’d once been had she been able to think like the little girl she was searching for, and she was certain now she knew where to find Lizbet. But Lizbet didn’t need the help of another child—she needed the adult Julia to protect her. It was time to set aside the fearful little ghost who’d entered her for the last few minutes, time to struggle free from the faded memories that this recent reliving had brought to life once more.

It felt like she was tearing her soul in two.

The past was powerful, and its ghosts were the most powerful of all, despite their pain and vulnerability. The child she’d once been always came to her freighted with guilt and loneliness, but when it was time to abandon her again she clung to the adult Julia with a strength born of fear, terrified to be cast into the shadows and forgotten until the next time.

And even though Julia knew that the frightened little personality was no ghost at all, but merely a long-ago echo of her own self, she felt as if she was turning her back on a real child—a child who had haunted her all her life for some purpose that she’d never been able to understand.

A convulsion ran through her body, and she felt the desperate presence receding into the furthermost corner of her mind with all the other memories that she never allowed herself to examine. She felt as if she’d just run ten miles, and her limbs were shaking with exertion.

“She’s nowhere around the house and I checked the woods as far back as the fence line.” Cord melted out of the grayness, King—the present King, not the long-gone one from her childhood, Julia thought with a moment of shaky confusion—at his heels. There was just enough light now to make out the tortured expression on his features and the straight, grim line of his mouth, and she put her hand lightly on his arm. Her fingers were still trembling, and her voice was unsteady.

“She’s in the old boathouse.”

The hope that flared in his eyes was instantly tempered with apprehension, and she forestalled his reply. “I know. She couldn’t have picked a more dangerous place—I’ve been meaning to have it pulled down since I came back here. You’re going to have to let me go in alone, Cord. I’m lighter than you are and those rotten floorboards might take my weight long enough for me to get her out of there.”

“No. I’ll go.” His tone brooked no argument, and her hand tightened on his arm.

“She was running from me, Cord! If you bring her back she’ll only try again. Don’t you see—she has to know that I came for her. She has to know that I want her enough so that I’ll never stop looking for her until I find her, and that just won’t happen if you deliver her to me like a package. She already trusts you—now I have to prove to her that she can trust me.” She hesitated, and then added in an undertone, “Besides, I’m her guardian. She’s my responsibility, too.”

She was using his own words against him, but she felt no compunction. She couldn’t wipe out the mistake that had ended her career—the mistake that no one knew about but herself and a dead man—but she could try to bridge the chasm she’d so unthinkingly created between herself and the child she’d vowed to protect.

She owed it to the best friends she’d ever had. Sheila and Paul had put their trust in her, and she’d let them down. She wanted the chance to make things right again, and her desperation must have shown in her eyes.

“I should know better than to try to talk you out of something you really want.” Cord glanced at the dark shape of the old boathouse with resignation. “It didn’t work when you were Lizbet’s age, it didn’t work when you were sixteen and wanted to ride my motorcycle, and it’s not going to work now, is it? But be careful. I’ll be standing right outside, so if you think the damned thing’s going to go, call out to me.”

He turned to the path that led to the boathouse and then paused. Swiftly he pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. Just as swiftly he released her, his expression unreadable. “Twenty-three months, four days and two hours,” he said tersely. “You were my addiction.”

He held her shocked gaze for the space of a heartbeat and then gave her an ironic half smile. “Walking out of your life was the one thing I never should have let you talk me into. I’m not going to let you do it a second time.”

He lightly traced the corner of her mouth, still soft from his kiss. Then he turned and set off quickly down the path. After a startled moment she ran after him, her thoughts a chaotic whirl.

He hadn’t changed at all, she thought in frustrated confusion as they hastened to the water’s edge and the rickety building that ran alongside the dock. He’d always had more confidence in her than she’d had in herself, always seen her as strong and capable and supremely in control of any situation. Tonight had been the first time a crack had appeared in his golden-girl image of her, but already he seemed to have forgotten the messy vulnerability she’d displayed in front of him.

After she’d sent him away it had taken long enough for her to reach some kind of equilibrium in her emotional existence, as sterile and empty as that existence had been. How was she supposed to cope if he came back into her life again?

The door of the boathouse was slightly ajar, and Cord carefully pulled it open wide, wincing as it creaked on its rusted hinges. Shutting her mind to what had just happened between them with an effort, Julia narrowed her gaze and looked past him into the darkness, but it was almost impossible to see anything inside. She knew that the floor ran around the perimeter of the building and in the middle was the long-disused boat slip—in actual fact, a large square opening in the floor to the lake below. She could just make out the oily ripple of water where the floor abruptly ended, but there hadn’t been boats kept there for years.

Lizbet was in there somewhere, behind the clutter of boxes and old tarpaulins and rusty motor parts. Despite any other doubts she might have, Julia knew she hadn’t been wrong about that. The child was here and she was still in danger. As if to underline her apprehension, the wind from the lake outside freshened as it always did just before dawn, and the timbers creaked ominously. The structure was in worse repair than she’d realized, she thought in alarm.

As Cord held the whining King back and followed her with a worried gaze, Julia stepped nervously into the darkness and started edging her way toward the back of the boathouse.

With her first step she felt the sponginess of rot underfoot, the unexpected give where there should have been solidity. Through the flimsy soles of her scuffs she felt the pebble-like pressure of a nailhead that had risen higher than the floorboard it originally had been meant to secure. She gingerly put her full weight onto her leg and held her breath. The floor sagged, but didn’t break.

There was a rustling sound by the far wall, on the other side of the dully gleaming rectangle in the middle of the boathouse, and then a muffled splash as something slipped into the water. Julia tried to control her shudder, but she couldn’t prevent the unpleasant prickling sensation that lifted the skin at the back of her neck. Water rats. It was bad enough knowing that they were scurrying around her in the dark, but feeling something bump against her underwater would send her right over the edge of panic. She only hoped that Lizbet didn’t know what those scuffling noises meant.

She was halfway to the pile of boxes now, and she paused. Keeping her voice low, she spoke into the darkness, praying that her presence wouldn’t frighten the little girl into any sudden movement.

“It’s me, Lizbet—your Aunt Julia. Uncle Cord’s waiting outside for us.”

She slid her foot carefully a few inches forward and felt the sickening emptiness of a missing section of floor. Sweat beaded like ice water on her forehead as she realized that Lizbet must have come this way herself only a short time before. That the child had made it safely to her dangerous refuge had been nothing short of a miracle, Julia thought shakily. She felt for a more secure footing and edged closer.

“I don’t blame you for running away, and no one’s going to make you come back if you’re not ready to. But I’ve got something important to tell you. I want you to know I’m really, really sorry for making you feel sad back at the house.”

She’d reached the pile of crates. Listening intently, she thought she could hear the soft sound of an indrawn breath behind one of them. The floor where she was standing felt more solid than the surrounding area, and she cautiously lowered herself to her knees. It was frightening enough here in the unfamiliar dark. The child whose trust she was trying to win didn’t need a disembodied voice floating down at her from on high.

“Do you know what a good luck charm is, Lizbet? It’s like a rabbit’s foot or maybe a shiny penny that you keep in your pocket for luck.” She saw a gleam of white sneaker edging from behind the crate, but she went on with careful casualness. “But there are bad luck charms, too—and that’s what I thought I was for you. I thought if you stayed with me I would bring you bad luck, Lizbet. Thinking that that made me so afraid that I thought you’d be safer somewhere else.”

Slowly a tiny, heart-shaped face peered out from the pile of boxes. In the gloom, Lizbet’s eyes were wide and solemn. She looked ready to dart back into her makeshift sanctuary at any sudden movement.

“Except then I remembered something that I had when I was your age—a good luck charm so strong that I figure it can cancel out any bad luck that I might bring.”

Slowly she reached into the pocket of the chenille robe and felt the smooth, perfect roundness of the stone that Cord had given her so long ago. Once it had been a talisman for a scared, confused little girl. It was time its protective magic was put back to use. Julia drew the stone out of her pocket and held it in her open palm.

“Take it. It’s yours now.”

A small hand reached out toward hers and touched the cool stone with minute fingertips. The next moment Lizbet’s fingers closed around the rock and whisked it to the safety of her own jeans’ pocket. Julia let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“I’m kind of hungry—how about you? If you want, we can go up to the house and I bet I can get Uncle Cord to make us both some of his famous buttermilk pancakes. He’s a way better cook than I am.”

It was going to be a long time before she’d be able to coax a giggle out of that serious little mouth, Julia told herself. Right now it was enough to see the pinched, white look replaced for a split second by the tentative flicker of a smile. She held out her hand, feeling somehow as if she was facing the biggest and most important test of her whole life.

“It’s pretty dark in here. I’m going to need you to hold on tight to keep me from falling into the lake.”

Through the cracks in the boathouse walls came a thin shaft of dawn light, enough so that she could see the heart-shaped face looking at her doubtfully. Then the two silky wings of red hair swung forward as Lizbet nodded silently. The little hand was cold as it slipped into hers and gripped tightly.

“Your mom was my best friend, honey.”

Julia’s whisper was uneven. Somewhere deep inside her she felt a painfully sweet sensation, as if a patch of ground that had been parched for too long had suddenly been split by the slender green shoot of a seedling. Despite the tears that prickled behind her lashes, she kept her eyes on Lizbet’s hesitant blue gaze, but when she spoke again her words were so soft she almost could have been talking to herself.

“I think she’d like it that we’re finally getting to know each other.”

Chapter 4

He’d gotten about as much sleep as she had, Julia thought distractedly the next morning—a couple of hours, maybe less—but at least she’d done her tossing and turning in her own bed. The obviously weary man in front of her had wrapped himself up in an old quilt, pulled one of the ancient overstuffed armchairs from the living room into the hall and had catnapped outside of Davey’s room.

Despite the sun it was early in the season, and although by mid-June the earth itself would have absorbed enough warmth to dispel the last cold dampness of spring, right now the breeze blowing off the lake still held more than a hint of its northern origins, and the distinct green scent of the nearby pines sharpened the atmosphere like tiny slivers of ice. The trees on the property—the hickories, maples and the massive old oak that shaded the house in the summer—had leafed out, but their foliage hadn’t thickened to the dense canopy that it would create in a few more weeks. Through the tangle of branches above, the sky looked like well-bleached denim. Julia stopped by a grove of tamaracks that had once provided an almost Oriental background to a long-vanished rock garden.

“What are we going to do about Lizbet?”

She flicked a quick glance over her shoulder at the house. The child was still sleeping, and King had been left on guard in her room in case she awoke. Earlier Cord had told her that he’d informed Sheila’s mother last night that he had her granddaughter, and Betty Wilson, devastated by the news she’d just received, had been all too grateful that the child was with them. Betty had been battling cancer, Julia knew, and even if she hadn’t been stricken with grief she was no longer able to care for her beloved Lizbet.

“I’ve thought about that. Since Dad moved some friends of mine have been living in our old place down the road. Dad said the place held too many memories of Mom for him to want to sell it.” Cord’s voice held affection. “Anyway, Mary and Frank Whitefield will take Lizbet in for as long as we need to keep her out of sight. I don’t want her around while we’re trying to track down her parents’ killer.”

He bent down and pulled a tuft of dried choke grass out of the garden, revealing a pale green spear pushing stubbornly through the dead weeds. “My father planted these for your mother one year,” he said softly, clearing the earth around the shoot.

With a gentle thumb he touched the young plant, and then he straightened up and sighed, still not looking at her directly. “I didn’t like it out in California. It wasn’t home.”

Julia knew what he meant without him spelling it out. He hadn’t just grown up in New York state, he had his roots here, and they went back a lot farther than the Mayflower. Part of him had always seemed inexorably bound to a more elemental way of life, and in the past, coming back to this place where his family had lived for generations had seemed to be a necessary ritual of renewal for him. He would blend in anywhere, she thought, and if he had to he would find a way to survive in a desert. But his soul would always thirst for a sunrise over a still lake, the dark red blur of cardinals against a snowy bough in the dusk, the crumbly feel of lichen on granite underfoot.

“La-La Land too rich for your blood?” she asked negligently, not wanting him to know how closely attuned she still was to his thoughts. “All those California babes—didn’t you have even the slightest urge to kick loose a little and enjoy yourself?”

As soon as the words left her lips she wished she could take them back. Indulging her almost desperate need to know what had happened to him over the last two years—whether he’d met anyone, if he’d fallen in love—was an area that had to be out of bounds if she had any hope of hanging onto her self-control while he was around. She couldn’t let things get personal between them. She was no good at personal anymore.

“It’s none of my business anyway,” she added swiftly, but she was too late. Cord rubbed the dirt from his hand carelessly against the seam of his jeans.

“You’ve got to be crazy,” he said. His tone was conversational and uninflected. “I only ever loved one woman, and that was you. Did you think that would change just because there was a continent between us? Did you really think I wouldn’t be hearing your voice, seeing your face—for God’s sake—smelling the scent of your skin every waking hour that I was away from you?”