Nathan's Child (9 page)

But if he was honest, he understood why she hadn't told him.

He'd been so focused in those days. He knew he was going to be a photographer, knew in his gut he could do it. But he also knew how much it would demand of him, how hard the work would be, how single-minded he'd have to be.

Fighting his father's determination that he go into the family business had been nothing compared to the obstacles he'd had to overcome to get where he was. He hadn't needed more obstacles.

Carin had known that.

It wasn't easy looking in the mirror when he thought about how self-absorbed he'd been.

He wasn't self-absorbed now. He wasn't single-minded. Gaby, his agent, was calling him every few days making offers and suggesting ideas—all of which would mean traveling—and every time, Nathan said no.

“I'm staying put,” he told Gaby.

He was enjoying his time with Lacey. He was opening up the world to her. And she was opening up a particular small slice of it for him.

She was an eager student. She always wanted to take photos. Every day, no matter what else they did, they spent time doing that. At first he just let her take photos that interested her. But after a few days of that, he suggested she start looking for specific things. Patterns, themes, specific subject matter.

They shot trees, they shot flowers, they shot buildings
and birds and kids and fishermen. They shot old men at work and playing dominoes under the shade trees.

Sometimes they picked a topic—heat, water, happiness, symmetry—and spent the day shooting whatever they saw that expressed it.

In the evenings they developed the black-and-white film together. They took the slides to Deveril's, which had an overnight developing facility, then spent the next morning comparing the differences and similarities in the way they viewed things.

It was as instructive for Nathan as he hoped it was for Lacey.

He was fascinated to discover what interested her, to learn more about the way she looked at the world. And she rose to every challenge he offered, focusing on it, thinking about it, trying to see what she could bring to it that would be something he hadn't thought of. Sometimes she wanted it too much, tried too hard.

“Don't push it,” he advised her. “It's about vision and about potential, but it's mostly about patience. You've just got to be there. The opportunity will come.”

It was true in photography. Great photos came to those who were prepared, who knew what they were doing and were prepared to wait.

And as the days went by and nothing seemed to happen, he hoped to God it was true in life—in his life—with Carin.

His theory, which was not at all the theory subscribed to by his father or even by Dominic, for that matter, was that showing up and sticking around were half the battle.

“It's all about opportunity,” he told himself, just as he'd told Lacey about photography.

But as one week went by and then another, he didn't see any opportunities.

Lacey did her best to try to throw them together. It was no secret their daughter wanted them together, even though she never said so outright.

“Don't push,” Nathan advised her when she was trying to get her mother to come to dinner with them one night. “It doesn't do any good. She might show up because you asked her to, but it won't be because she wants to.”

“I know, but—”

“And she'll go home irritated and more resistant than ever.”

“Maybe, but—”

“So we'll just cool it,” Nathan counseled. And tried to take his own advice.

But as the days passed, it got harder and harder to simply bide his time.

 

As the days passed Carin thought Nathan would get bored, get fed up, get antsy, be ready to leave.

Instead he stuck around.

Not only did he stick around, but he and Lacey bonded completely. They fished and swam and wandered all over the island, according to what her glowing daughter told her every evening. He listened to her and talked to her. He took her seriously. As far as Lacey was concerned, she could not have a better father.

“I wish he'd been here before,” she said more than once. “He wishes he had been here before, too.”

Carin tried to take that with equanimity. “Really? Did he say so?”

“No. 'Cause he's too polite. But I know he feels that way. I can just tell.”

Which, of course, made Carin the bad guy of the piece. Good old Nathan wasn't even complaining because she'd done him out of twelve years of their daughter's life. Perversely it made her angry.

It was hard, too, because she felt such conflict. She didn't want to feel beholden to Nathan, and yet she was. He was saving her bacon by taking Lacey every day, by having hired Elaine, by allowing her to paint.

Even so, it was hard to feel grateful. She didn't
want
to feel grateful. And yet she knew she owed him.

More guilt.

And then there was Hugh. Carin was grateful to him, too. He made a point of stopping around in the evening along about the time Nathan would be bringing home Lacey. He stood in her kitchen, beer bottle in hand, acting like he'd been there all evening, giving her intimate little smiles and winks designed to make Nathan believe she and Hugh were an item.

He kissed her, too. And she let him—in front of Nathan. She told him they were friends. He said of course they were friends. But then he winked at her. And he kissed her. And there was something in the way he looked at her.

Even more guilt.

Oh, God, what a mess everything was!

The painting, wretchedly slow as it was, was the most successful part of her life! At least when Stacia had called on the weekend, she'd been able to say, without lying, that she had two paintings finished and the others were coming along.

“Terrific!” Stacia had been delighted. “I'm so glad. Do you want me to get you reservations for a place to stay?”

“No. Thanks. I still don't think we'll be able to make it.” Every spare penny she had was being put away to reimburse Nathan for Elaine's salary.

“But you could use a holiday,” Stacia argued.

“That wouldn't be a holiday,” Carin said truthfully. The very notion of going to her own opening scared her spitless. “A holiday is where you have a good time.”

Stacia laughed. “Keep painting. Let me know when you're getting close to finished and I'll be down.”

“Will do.”

No, she wouldn't go to New York. But maybe they could take a vacation to another of the islands. Stay a week or two before school started.

And when they got back, with luck Nathan would be gone.

Surely he had to leave sometime. He couldn't just stay on the island forever. A man who made his living traveling to the four corners of the earth wasn't going to be able to do that on an island five miles long and half a mile wide. The subject matter just wasn't here.

“Once you've seen one lizard, you've seen them all.” Carin smiled to herself.

Maybe she could ask when he dropped Lacey off tonight. Since Hugh wasn't here—he'd flown a charter to Nassau and would be returning tomorrow sometime—it would be good to have another distraction. Something to annoy Nathan.

Since he got annoyed every time she brought up the possibility that he might not spend the rest of his life on Pelican Cay, that would be a good one.

But shortly before nine, when she heard the car pull up out in front, the engine kept on idling even as the car door shut. Half a minute later, Lacey banged into the house and the car drove away.

“No Nathan?”

“Dad's got company. Her name is Gaby.”

“Gaby?” What kind of name was that? It called to mind blonde bimbos with big boobs.

“His agent,” Lacey said.

“Oh.” The blonde bimbo disappeared as fast as she'd come. “Well, that's nice,” Carin said briskly. Nathan's agent arriving had to be a good sign. “When did she arrive?”

“This afternoon. We had dinner with her.”

“And is she here to get your father to go back to work?” Carin asked, hoping she didn't sound as eager as she was.

“He is working,” Lacey said, offended. “He works every day on his book.”

“I mean in the field. She must want him to go and take more photos.”

Lacey hunched her shoulders. “Dunno. They didn't talk about that. You don't think he'll leave, do you?”

“I don't know.” Clearly Lacey wanted him to stick around. Carin didn't want to get in the middle of an argument about it.

“He's got a lot to do on his new book,” Lacey said. “The one he's picking out photos for. And she was talking about him doing a show at her gallery this winter.”

“Gaby has a gallery?”

“Uh-huh. In Santa Fe. It has a Spanish name.” Lacey scrunched up her forehead, thinking. “Something about sombreros?”

“Sombra? Sombra y Sol?” Even Carin had heard of Sombra y Sol. It was one of the best-known galleries in Santa Fe.

“Yeah, that's it. Sombra y Sol.”

“I thought it belonged to Gabriela del Castillo.”

“Yeah.” Lacey bobbed her head. “Gaby.”

That
was Nathan's Gaby? Though Carin had never met Gabriela del Castillo—having lived in a Caribbean backwater for a dozen years, that was a given—she'd certainly heard of her.

Gabriela del Castillo was a force to be reckoned with.

The widow of famous art patron, agent and entrepreneur, Enrique Castillo, she took over his gallery and his business after his death a few years back. At first, gossips said she was coasting on her late husband's coattails. But it hadn't taken Sra del Castillo long to dispel that notion. She had an eye for talent—and she was a terrific marketer.

Gabriela del Castillo was highly respected in the art world now. Sombra y Sol displayed some of the finest photographers in the world as well as some of the most successful artists in other media. It was one of the galleries Stacia had mentioned when she'd told Carin that if her
show in New York was a success they might be able to take her work elsewhere. Carin had privately thought Stacia was aiming a little high.

It didn't surprise her that Gabriela del Castillo was Nathan's agent. It did surprise her that Sra del Castillo was humoring him about his staying on Pelican Cay. But maybe she would crack her whip after she'd been here a couple of days. Carin envisioned her as an elderly, ramrod-straight Spanish matron with snapping black eyes and an astute business mind.

“He showed her my photos,” Lacey said. “She liked them. She says I'm a chip off the old block. Maybe she'll show my photos someday.”

“Maybe,” Carin said. “How long is she staying?”

“Dunno. They were going to The Grouper. He said he was going to take her out for a little local color.”

Carin grinned. “Well, I hope she enjoys it.”

It was hard to imagine a seventyish widow enjoying the steel band at The Grouper, but maybe Nathan was trying to broaden her horizons a little. “Is she staying at the Mirabelle?”

The Sand Dollar was a hip, yuppie spot on Pelican Cay while the quietly elegant Mirabelle, tucked away by a cove at the south end of the island, was the poshest small inn on the island. It was one of several that Hugh's brother, Lachlan, had bought in the past year. The Mirabelle was where all the VIPs stayed when they came to Pelican Cay.

Lacey shook her head. “She's staying at Dad's.”

Carin was surprised to hear that. But then, maybe Sra del Castillo was a family friend. Perhaps she and her husband had been friends of Nathan's father. Douglas had to be about seventy now. And from what Carin remembered of him, he had his finger in many pies. She wouldn't be surprised if Sombra y Sol was one of them.

“Well, I'm sure she'll find it comfortable and quiet,” she said. “She must be tired if she just arrived today.”

Lacey shrugged. “I guess.”

Carin yawned. “I'm tired, too. Time for bed. What time is your father picking you up tomorrow?” she asked as she shut off the light in the kitchen and shooed Zeno out onto the front porch.

“He's not,” Lacey said as she climbed the stairs. “I'm going fishing with Lorenzo and Thomas.”

Carin stopped, one hand on the newel post. “What? Since when?”

Lacey looked back at her. “Dad called Thomas and asked. He and Gaby have work to do. They said I'd be bored. And Thomas said it was okay.”

“And he didn't think to check with me?”

Lacey lifted her shoulders. “He said he didn't want to bother you, on account of your painting and all.”

“So he imposed on Thomas?”

Lacey looked offended. “Thomas is glad I'm coming. He says I'm a ‘civilizing influence' on Lorenzo.” She turned again and went up the steps.

Carin, following, shook her head. “I wonder. Well, I guess…if Thomas agreed. But I still think your father should have discussed it with me.”

“He says you never want to talk to him.”

It was true, of course, but galling that he had mentioned it to Lacey.

Still she went off to bed, heartened and blessing Gabriela del Castillo for her arrival. It wouldn't be long now and Nathan would be gone. Carin felt better than she'd felt since Nathan had appeared back on Pelican Cay.

 

The morning went well. The painting went well.

Knowing that Lacey was with Thomas and Lorenzo and not with Nathan somehow freed up a little of her creativity. Knowing that Gabriela del Castillo was at this very moment most likely leaning on Nathan to get back to work freed up some more.

Carin actually got some work done after Lacey left in the morning.

It was the first time in a long long while that she'd been able to focus, to think, to feel as if she were “in a zone” as far as her work went. She even whistled while she worked, contemplating the departure of Nathan as she did so.

She would have worked straight on through the afternoon, but Elaine expected her to bring lunch. She had done it every day, using it as an excuse to check on things, to see how Elaine was doing, to answer any questions the young woman might have.