Immortal Sea (33 page)

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride to work?” she asked Zack at lunchtime on Tuesday.

He grinned. “I don’t think a little water will hurt me, Mom. Unless you’re worried I’m going to grow gills on my way to Wiley’s.”

Her pulse bumped. “Very funny,” she said dryly. “Don’t forget your jacket. You want me to pick you up?”

He accepted the jacket, shrugging into it as he opened the door. “No, I’m good.”

“Zack . . .”

“Mom, I’ve gotta go.” His gaze met hers briefly. “I’ll be fine.”

Would he?

Her eyes blurred as she watched him jump down the porch steps and splash through the yard, a tall, skinny shadow in the silver rain. At the bottom of their driveway, he slid out of the jacket, bundling it under his arm, turning his face to the sky.

His wet profile looked like Morgan’s. Her breathing hitched.

She returned to the clinic to see her afternoon patients, an ache in her throat that had nothing to do with the rain.

At the end of the day, the sky had lightened, even if her mood hadn’t.

“Bobby Kincaid called,” Nancy said as Liz retrieved her wet coat from the stand outside her office. “He should be able to get to your car next week.”

“Did he tell you why it’s taking so long to fix a simple broken window?”

Nancy shrugged. “We’re on an island. It takes time to get parts. And the Kincaid boys were never worth a damn anyway.”

Liz sighed. “Fine. I’ll call and schedule an appointment.”

At least the rain had stopped. She drove to the community center to pick up Emily.

Freed from the gym, the camp kids whooped and splashed on the playground. Em stood under the fort bridge with Nick, inspecting something he’d pulled from his pocket. A bead? A coin? The sight of her daughter’s round, absorbed face sent a surge of protective love through Liz’s chest.

Regina climbed out of the white catering van parked at the curb. Liz raised a hand in tentative greeting, still slightly embarrassed by the way she’d unloaded on Regina a few days ago. She badly wanted another woman’s support. But despite their exclusive club membership, they hadn’t known each other long.

Regina waved and hurried over, her brown eyes warm and concerned. “Dylan told me about the fire. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Liz summoned a smile. “Soggy.”

“Safe. That’s the important thing. And at least it’s over now.”

Her heart clutched, thinking of Morgan. “Over?”

“The rain,” Regina explained. “Margred told the guys she wanted good weather for the baby shower tonight.”

“They can do that?”

Regina nodded as if they were talking about changing the batteries in the remote. “They’d better. Nobody rains on Margred’s parade. Or her party. She’s been looking forward to it for weeks.”

Liz blinked. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Regina grinned. “Being married to a man who can control the weather is a definite advantage when I have a big catering job.”

“I imagine it must be,” Liz said faintly.

“You’re coming, right?” Regina said. “Tonight?”

She hesitated. Would Morgan be there? She missed him with an almost physical ache, as if they had been lovers for years instead of one evening.

Yet this was a short separation compared to the one to come.

She had survived losing Ben to death. She would survive losing Morgan to the sea.

But she wasn’t ready to give up Zack. Not yet. Their son still needed a chance to grow up before he made the most important choice of what could be a very long life. Emily deserved a better role model than a mother who accepted anything less than everything a man had to give.

“I don’t want to intrude,” she murmured.

“As if you could. You’re Maggie’s OB. If you don’t belong at her baby’s shower, I don’t know who does. Anyway, half the island will show up, invited or not.” Regina cocked her head. “You sure you’re okay?”

Liz swallowed around the spiky lump in her throat. “Fine.”

“Good.” Regina pursed her lips. “Morgan looks like hell.”

Liz gaped, flattered and distressed. “Excuse me?”

“He’s been palling around with Dylan since you kicked him out. Holding the weather system in place—like it takes the two of them to make rain in Maine—and sulking. Poor guy.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“You mean because I called him a coldblooded son of a bitch?”

“That was a clue,” Liz said dryly.

Regina grinned. “Okay, so he’s the opposite of warm and fuzzy. But he’s good with Nick. And . . . Well, you didn’t ask for my opinion.”

Ever since her parents cut off all financial support when she failed to follow their advice, Liz never asked for anyone’s opinion. But she genuinely liked Regina. She hoped they could be friends. And she was both concerned and curious about Morgan.

“Tell me,” she urged.

Regina met her gaze. “Dylan says you told Morgan you need time to think things through.”

Liz nodded.

“That was smart,” Regina said. “Maybe smarter than you realize.”

She hid the pang at her heart. “You think things won’t work out.”

“I think they might,” Regina said, surprising her. “Once Morgan has a chance to figure stuff out. You’ve got to remember they’re no good at this emotional stuff.”

“They.”
Men?
Liz wondered.

“The children of the sea,” Regina explained. “Maybe when you live forever, you can’t afford too many attachments. You love a human, they die. You love another elemental, you have to sustain that relationship over centuries. Easier not to love at all.”

“But Dylan loves you.”

“Dylan had to learn to love me. To love anyone. And he’s at least half-human. This is all new territory for Morgan. Whether he admits it or not, he needs time to adjust as much as you do. And the fact that he’s at least trying to consider your feelings, to honor your request . . . That’s big, coming from an elemental.”

“I don’t doubt that he cares for me,” Liz said. His whisper seared her heart:
“For no other woman—for no other force on earth—would I have stayed.”
“But I have to think about my kids. Would you get involved with someone who didn’t know how to love your children? Didn’t love you more than his life away from you?”

They both turned to look at the playground.

“No,” Regina said quietly. “No way.”

Emily dashed up, her halo of soft curls bouncing. “Mommy, look what I got!”

She tipped back her head to show off the camp lanyard around her neck. Hanging between with the red “caring bead” and blue “responsibility bead” was a silver disk with three interconnected spirals radiating from the center.

Liz bent for a closer look. “That’s very . . .” Her breath hitched. Something about the gleaming medal teased at her memory. “Pretty.”

“It’s a triskelion,” Regina said.

“A what?”

Regina turned over her wrist, exposing a simplified version of the same symbol tattooed against her pale skin. “It’s a sign of protection. A ward. Earth, sea, and sky—that’s the three curving lines, see?—around a common center.”

Liz studied the flowing lines. “You got this for protection?”

Regina grinned. “Hell, no. I got it because I was drunk and thought it was some kind of female empowerment thing. It wasn’t until I met Dylan that I knew the real meaning. It’s a wardens’ mark.”

Recognition flashed through Liz. That’s where she’d seen that symbol before. The medal was a smaller replica of the one around Morgan’s neck.

“Honey,” she asked gently, “where did you get this?”

Emily’s gaze fell. “Nick gave it to me.”

Liz looked at Regina for confirmation.

“I guess it’s possible.” Regina scanned the play equipment. “Nick!”

Her son came running, accompanied by a freckled older boy.

“Did you give something to Emily?”

Nick rubbed the toe of one sneaker in the mud. “Yeah. Sort of.”

His freckled friend grinned. “Nick’s got a girlfriend, Nick’s got a—”

Nick flushed. “Shut up, Danny.”

“Which is it, kiddo?” Regina asked. “Yeah, or sort of?”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Not yet,” his mother replied.

“Because he said it would be all right.”

Liz’s heart thumped. “Who said?”

“Morgan. He gave me the medal. To give to Em.” Nick met his mother’s eyes. “Can I go now?”

“Five more minutes,” Regina said. “We need to get ready for Maggie’s party tonight.”

“Cool,” Nick said and ran off.

Liz’s mind churned.
Morgan
gave the medal to Em.

A sign of protection, Regina called it. A ward.

Liz looked from the engraved disk to her daughter’s shining eyes, and her heart stumbled in her chest.

Even after she’d told him to back off, Morgan had been thinking of Emily. Had tried to protect her.

“
I am attached to her, too,
” he’d said, but so stiffly Liz hadn’t understood.

Something constricted her lungs, as insubstantial and painful as hope.

“Mom.” Emily tugged on her arm. “Are we going to the party?”

Margred’s baby shower. Half the island would be there. Morgan would be there.

Liz took a deep breath, feeling her chest expand with possibilities. “Yes. We are.”

Liz held Emily’s small, warm hand as they strolled down the grassy slope from the parking lot toward the picnic shelter. Anticipation hummed through her. The saturated ground and the pink glow of the setting sun lent the air an enchanted shimmer, heightened by the fairy lights twined around the shelter’s rafters and square wooden supports. Lanterns and rocks anchored red checkered tablecloths fluttering in the breeze. The air was alive with laughter and conversation, the clang of horseshoes, the cry of gulls, and the call of the surf.

It was a night to believe in magic.

In love.

Liz scanned the scene. Looking for Morgan, she admitted to herself. She was a little overdressed, she saw at once, in a blue wrap dress that hugged her waist and floated around her legs. Most of the guests wore jeans and wind-breakers or khakis and sweaters. But she’d wanted to look pretty. She wanted to feel young. She’d left her hair loose on her shoulders and slicked an extra layer of mascara on her lashes, a deeper shade of rose on her mouth. She wanted Morgan to look at her and see the girl she’d been sixteen years ago, bright and fearless.

Blankets and camp chairs dotted the grass. A volleyball net stretched across the hard, damp sand. Zack had already joined the knot of teenagers around the cooler holding up one pole. Liz spotted a can in his hand and angled for a closer look. Catching her eye, he smiled crookedly and held it up.

Soda.
She smiled back.

On the crescent of shale below the shelter, two huge steel washtubs balanced on rocks a foot above a roaring fire, the red flames competing with the radiance on the horizon. The scent of seaweed rode upward on the steam. The gray waves had the sheen of molten metal.

“Morgan!” Emily shouted as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Tugging away from Elizabeth’s grasp, she darted to the lone, tall figure at the edge of the water. Liz followed more slowly, her heart beating in her throat.

He looked the same, her shadow rescuer, appearing out of the night. His face was angled, strong, and pale, his hair the color of moonlight. Her gaze slid up his powerful torso to his face, her pulse rioting.

His eyes were guarded and cold.

She put that look there, she realized with regret. When she sent him away. His pride—and her own—demanded she take the first step toward him.

She took a deep breath that did nothing to calm her racing heart. She wished she were as young and sure of her welcome as Em, so she could run, too, and throw her arms around him.

But she wasn’t the girl she’d been in Copenhagen. Life and medicine had taught her caution, particularly when the stakes were high and the outcome unpredictable.