Aquamarine (9 page)

“When did you see him last?” Jack asked.

“Not since last night.” Mikey’s face puckered up.

Shea cleared her throat. “He was around earlier this morning. I saw him.” She didn’t go into detail. No need to get Glory in trouble.

“Kevin did too.” Mikey nodded. “But when I whistled for Bub a few minutes ago, he didn’t come. And he
always
comes.”

“He probably just didn’t hear you,” Shea said.

Mikey shot her a withering look. “He
always
comes,” she repeated. She turned back to her father. “What if he tangled with another porcupine? Remember last time, Daddy? He had quills in his mouth and both front feet.”

“Not a discriminating pugilist,” Jack agreed with a faint smile.

The young girl frowned. “I’m worried. I tried to get Kevin to help me look for him, but he would rather play stupid old tennis with his stupid old friends than help me find my dog. And Mom won’t let me search alone. She says it’s not safe.” Mikey’s expression explained very clearly what she thought of such excessive adult concern. Shea suspected Jack and Cynthia tended to be a little overprotective since Kirsten’s kidnapping.

“Maybe Hal and Glory could help,” Jack suggested.

Mikey’s sour expression spoke volumes. “They’re both busy doing God’s work. That’s what Ruth says. Only it looks like licking envelopes to me.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to wait until Kevin gets back,” her father said.

Mikey’s chin quivered. “He’s staying in Liberty late to go to some dumb party at the club. By the time he gets back, Beelzebub could be dead.”

“I don’t know what else to suggest.” Jack’s bony fingers clenched at the top edge of the sheet.

“I’ll help you look for your dog,” Shea offered, more affected by the helplessness on Jack Rainey’s face than she cared to admit.

Mikey shot her a startled glance, apparently having forgotten until then that Shea was there. “All right,” she said grudgingly, as if she were the one doing Shea a favor.

Teague had assumed Shea was on the island, but his heart still gave a lurch when he spotted her and Mikey walking across the clearing toward the gazebo.

“You sure you want me to cut down this tree, boss?” His foreman tapped the base of a big pine. “It falls wrong, and it’s gonna take out half the gazebo.”

Teague grinned. “Then you damned well better see it falls right.”

The sound of the chain saw drowned out Nick’s grumbling.

Teague walked over to meet Shea and Mikey. “What brings you ladies up here?”

“We’re looking for Beelzebub,” Mikey said. “Have you seen him?”

Teague knelt on one knee so that he could look the little girl in the eye. “He hasn’t been around. What’s going on? He playing hide-and-seek?”

“Something like that,” Shea said. “We’ve been all over the island searching for him, but we can’t find him anywhere. We were hoping maybe he’d heard your crew making noise and come up here to investigate.”

“Sorry. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.” He
stood. “You ladies look hot and tired, though. Why don’t you take a break? We’ve got drinks in the cooler back behind the gazebo if you’re thirsty.”

“Thanks,” Shea said. “I think we’ve covered this island from one end to the other, anyway. We’ve just about run out of places to search.”

Mikey looked glum. “Somebody must have kidnapped him.”

“I doubt it, kiddo, but maybe he did stow away on someone’s boat without their realizing it. Anybody make any trips to town this morning?”

“Kevin went to the post office,” Shea said.

“Hal went across to pick up groceries and stuff like he always does on Mondays.” Mikey frowned. “Then later Kevin went to the club.”

“And my men have been back and forth a couple of times, hauling in equipment.”

“So I guess he could have sneaked a ride.” Shea looked doubtful. The dog was big as a horse and friendly as a horse thief, not the sort of animal it would be easy to overlook.

“Maybe.” Mikey didn’t look convinced, either. Suddenly she froze. “Did you hear that?”

Something was crashing toward them through the underbrush.

“Beelzebub?” Mikey’s face brightened, then fell as Hallelujah Griffin stumbled into the clearing, loaded down with fishing gear.

He blinked at them in surprise. The boy was at the awkward, gangly stage, with knobby knees and big-knuckled hands.

“Hey, I thought you were busy with God’s work,” Mikey accused.

He shuffled his feet and smiled sheepishly. “My tongue got sore from licking all them flaps, so I told Mama I had chores to finish up in the garden plot.”

“Going to stake tomatoes with that fishing pole, are you?” Teague asked, and the boy blushed.

“You shouldn’t lie to your mother,” Mikey told him sternly.

“She shouldn’t volunteer me to work on the reverend’s newsletter. Like anybody reads that stuff, anyway.” He looked a little uneasy, as if he were afraid God—or the Reverend Dwayne Culpepper—was about to smite him for blasphemy. He remained unsmitten, however.

“Have you seen Beelzebub?” Mikey asked.

“Nope,” Hal said, “but I’ll keep an eye peeled.”

Mikey watched him head for the shoreline and out of sight, her face a study in dejection.

“How long have you two been searching?” Teague asked Shea.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. A couple hours, I guess.”

“Two hours is a long time,” he said. “I bet Beelzebub’s home waiting for you, Mikey.”

Her face lit up. “You really think so?”

Teague tugged gently at her ponytail. “No way to tell for sure, but it’s worth checking out, isn’t it, shortcake? Tell you what. I’ll get you ladies something to drink, then walk back down to the house with you. I’ve got a couple of job-related questions for Jack, anyway.”

Shea placed a hand on Teague’s arm as the path emerged into the meadow above the cabin. “Watch Mikey,” she said.

The little girl lay down at the top of the slope, crisscrossed her arms over her chest as if she was hugging herself, then rolled like a barrel down the grassy incline.

Teague turned to her in surprise. “You knew she was going to do that?”

Shea laughed. “I guessed. It’s what I used to do. Got in big trouble too, for getting grass stains all over my clothes. Ruth had a thing about grass stains.”

Teague gave her a funny look.

Her smile faded as she realized what she’d said. “Oh, boy. I did it again, huh?” Spoken from Kirsten’s point of view. The slip frightened her.

“There must be a rational explanation,” he said.

She cocked her head. “Yeah? Like what? I’ve suddenly developed full-blown schizophrenia? Only instead of hearing voices, I think other people’s thoughts?”

“Is that any crazier than your explanation? I’m supposed to believe Kirsten’s ghost is trying to possess your body?”

Shea turned toward the lake. The surface was glassy in the sheltering curve of the island, but farther out whitecaps danced. “Believe what you want.”

“Shea?” Teague put his arms around her and turned her to face him. “I’m sorry if you thought I was calling you a liar. But …”

“I know,” she said. “I wouldn’t believe it, either, if it were happening to someone else.”

He kissed the tip of his finger and pressed it to her lips. “You must hate me for involving you in this mess.”

“Hate you? No.”
Not hardly. In fact, I think I’m falling in love with you. Which is pretty damn depressing since it’s obvious you’re still hung up on your missing wife.
She sighed.

“Did you know they’re laying bets at the country club on how long it’ll be before I move in with you?”

Teague was fifteen minutes early. He and Shea had arranged to meet at the dock by the boathouse for the trip to Massacre Island. Cynthia had invited them to dinner.

Hearing a noise, he glanced up. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Shea sauntering down the dock toward him like a model on a Paris runway. She looked gorgeous—slim, tanned, vital—her silky dark hair swirling around her shoulders, her mouth curved in a sexy smile, her eyes hidden by a pair of oversize sunglasses. She wore a slinky little sundress, very short, formfitting on top with a flared skirt. Aquamarine, Kirsten’s signature color.

“Ready?” she called.

“Where did you get that dress?” He almost choked on his words.

Her footsteps faltered. “Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Whether or not I like it isn’t the issue. Where did you get it?”

She eyed him warily. “I didn’t have anything suitable, so Cynthia loaned me this little number. Is there a problem?”

“That dress isn’t Cynthia’s.”

One eyebrow arched above her sunglasses. “I get it. You’re irritated because she loaned me something of Kirsten’s. Lighten up. As far as Cynthia knows, I
am
Kirsten.”

“It’s just …” He helped her into the boat. She took a seat in the bow, tugging at the abbreviated skirt. “It’s just that it brings back memories. Kirsten was wearing
that dress the last time I saw her.” When they’d fought so bitterly. Not one of his all-time favorite memories.

“This dress?” Shea looked surprised. “She must not have been very far along.”

He cast off. Edging past her, he made his way to the tiller. “I don’t follow.”

“In her pregnancy.” She grinned, revealing that elusive dimple, and his blood pressure made a quantum leap up the scale. “This dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

Teague grinned back. The scope of his imagination might surprise her.

Mikey, flanked by Glory and Hal, was waiting for them on the dock. The little girl was resplendent in a pink sundress and matching hair ribbon. “We’ve been waiting for hours,” she complained.

“Ten minutes,” corrected the literal-minded Glory.

“Mikey’s a little antsy,” Hal told them.

“I am not,” she said with dignity. “I had a bath.”

“Catch anything?” Teague asked Hal as he helped Shea onto the dock.

A mistake.

The boy blushed and stammered an incoherent reply.

His sister rounded on him immediately. “Were you
fishing
, Hal Griffin?” Her voice rose. “I thought you told Mama you had to work in the garden!” Glory harangued her poor brother all the way across the island. Why should he get to goof off when she was stuck with the Reverend Dwayne Culpepper’s fifteen hundred newsletters-slash-solicitations?

“Don’t tell Mama,” he pleaded, his voice cracking.

“We wouldn’t think of it,” Shea said. “Would we, Teague?” Her glance was a reproof.

He felt like a jerk. “Did Beelzebub ever show up?” he asked in an effort to turn the conversation in a safer direction.

Unfortunately, the reminder plunged Mikey into gloom. “No. I think he’s been dognapped.”

But after such an inauspicious start, the evening went surprisingly well. Jack joined them for dinner, which made it a festive occasion. Mikey’s centerpiece of driftwood and wildflowers drew oohs and ahs, and Ruth Griffin had done herself proud, serving stuffed lake trout, baked potatoes with sour cream and chives, fresh steamed vegetables from the garden, and melt-in-the-mouth huckleberry muffins.

The only uncomfortable moment came just as Ruth brought out dessert. Teague was watching for Shea’s reaction to the flaky apple turnovers when Jack announced, “I’m changing my will to include Kirsten,” so he saw the way her expression congealed.

Someone sucked in his or her breath in a hiss.

Teague glanced up in time to catch the poisonous look the housekeeper shot in Shea’s direction. Then he surveyed the others’ reactions. Cynthia appeared momentarily startled before her face relaxed in a smile, but Mikey wasn’t as accomplished a dissembler as her mother. Her mouth tightened and she mumbled something about “nimposters” under her breath.

Shea didn’t say a word, just stared at the floor as if she wished it would open up and swallow her whole.

“Isn’t anyone going to say anything?” Jack demanded.

“I think that’s very nice, dear,” Cynthia said with a
charming smile for Shea, though since Shea was still staring at the floor, she missed it.

“Well, what I think is—” Mikey broke off abruptly, as if her mother had kicked her under the table.

Shea managed a smile for Jack, but Teague noticed that she left her dessert untouched.

The evening was cool with just enough breeze off the water to keep the mosquitoes at bay. Very aware of her hand, small and warm in his, Teague led Shea down the path to the beach. After dinner, Cynthia had suggested that Teague take Shea for a walk. “You never know what might release a new flood of memories.”

Shea had shot him a look, as if to say, “I have quite enough memories of my own, thank you very much,” but once outside, she’d seemed to relax.

Across the lake the lights of Liberty formed a bright semicircle of sparkling pinpricks in the gathering darkness. A spectacular sunset reflected orange, red, pink, and lavender in shimmering ripples on the surface of the water. The surrounding mountains loomed black and featureless by contrast.

They walked hand in hand, neither of them inclined to talk. Tiny wavelets lapped onto the sandy beach. The scent of pine mingled with the more delicate fragrance of the sweet peas that grew wild along the ledges.

Shea tugged him to a halt near the water’s edge. “Wait a sec. I want to slip off my shoes.” She laughed, a soft, low sound that sent prickles of awareness down his spine. “I can’t remember the last time I went barefoot in the sand.”

To keep himself from latching on to her and kissing her senseless, Teague chose a flat stone from the pebbles littering the beach and sent it skipping across the water. “Shea?”

“What?” She smiled up at him, her face gilded by the warm glow of the setting sun.

I’m crazy about you. I love the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you laugh … the way you eat, for crying out loud.
“Nothing.” He sent another stone spinning off into the darkness.

Unaware of his inner turmoil, she stared at the jagged skyline. “You’ve known Jack a long time, right?”

“Long enough. Why?”

“How would you characterize him?” Her voice was a shade too casual.

“What are you getting at?”

She shrugged. “Like you said before, the resemblance between Kirsten and me can’t be a coincidence.” She paused, sighing heavily. “My mother told me that my real father died in Vietnam, but what if he didn’t die? What if …” Her words trailed off into a troubled silence.