Sanctuary (58 page)

“I'm going with you,” Jo began, but Nathan shook his head.

“No, you stay with your family. We all need time.” He turned to face Sam. “If you have more to say to me—”

“I'll find you right enough.”

With a nod, Nathan left them alone.

“Daddy—”

“I don't have anything to say to you now, Jo Ellen. You're a grown woman, but you're living under my roof for the time being. I'm asking you to go to your room for now and let me be.”

“All right. I know what you're feeling, and just how it hurts. You need time to deal with it.” She kept her eyes level with his. “But after you've had that time, if you still hold to this stand, you'll make me ashamed. Ashamed that you would blame the son for the father's deed.”

Saying nothing, he strode past her.

“Go ahead to your room, Jo.” Kate laid a hand on Jo's knotted shoulder. “Let me see what I can do.”

“Do you blame him, Kate? Do you?”

“I can't get my mind clear on what I think or feel. I know the boy's suffering, Jo, but so is Sam. My first loyalty is to him. Go on now, don't pester me for answers until I can sort things through.”

Kate found Sam on the front porch, standing at the rail, staring out into the night. Clouds had rolled in, covering moon and stars. She left the porch light off and stepped quietly up beside him.

“I have to grieve again.” He ran his hands back and forth over the railing. “It isn't right that I should have to grieve for her again.”

“No, it's not.”

“Do I take comfort that she never meant to leave me and the children? That she didn't run off and forget us? And how do I take back all the hard thoughts of her I had over the years, all the nights I cursed her for being selfish and careless and heartless?”

“You can't be faulted for the hard thoughts, Sam. You believed what was set in front of you. Believing a lie doesn't make you wrong. It's the lie that's wrong.”

He tightened up. “If you came out here to defend that boy to me, you can turn right around and go back inside.”

“That's not why I came out, but the fact is that you're no more at fault for believing what you did about Belle than Nathan was for believing in his father. Now you've both found out you were wrong in that belief, but he's the one who has to accept that his father was the selfish and heartless one.”

“I said you could go on back inside.”

“All right, then, you stubborn, stiff-necked mule. You just stand out here alone and wallow in your misery and think your black thoughts.” She spun around, shocked when his hand shot out and took hers.

“Don't leave.” The words burned his throat like tears. “Don't.”

“When have I ever?” she said with a sigh. “Sam, I don't know what to do for you, for any of you. I hate seeing the people I love hurt this way and not knowing how to give them ease.”

“I can't mourn for her the way I should, Kate. Twenty years is a long stretch. I'm not the same as I was when I lost her.”

“You loved her.”

“I always loved her, even when I thought the worst of her, I loved her. You remember how she was, Kate, so bright.”

“I always envied her the way she would light up everything and everyone around her.”

“A soft light's got its own appeal.” He stared down at their joined hands and missed the shock that bolted into her eyes. “You always kept that light steady,” he said carefully. “She'd have been grateful for the way you mothered the children, looked after things. I should have told you before that I'm grateful.”

“I started out doing it for her, and stayed for myself. And Sam, I don't think Belle would have wanted you to grieve all over again. I never knew her to nurse a hurt or cling to a grudge. She wouldn't have blamed a ten-year-old boy for what his father was.”

“I'm cut in two on this, Kate. I'm remembering that when Belle went missing, David Delaney joined in the search for her.” He had to close his eyes as the rage rose up black again. “The son of a bitch walked this island with me. And all the while he'd done that to her. His wife came and got the children, took them back with her to mind all that day. I was grateful to him, God forgive me for that. I was grateful to him.”

“He deceived you,” she said quietly. “He deceived his own family.”

“He never missed a step. I can't go back to that day, knowing what I know now, and make him pay for it.”

“Will you make the son pay instead?”

“I don't know.”

“Sam, what if they're right? What if someone wants to do to Jo what was done to Annabelle? We need to protect what we have left, to use whatever we have to protect what we have left. If I'm any judge, Nathan Delaney would step in front of a moving train to keep her safe.”

“I can see to my own this time. I'm prepared this time.”

 

 

THE edge of the woods on a moonless night was an excellent vantage point. But he hadn't been able to resist creeping a little closer, using the dark to conceal his movements.

It was so exciting to be this close to the house, to hear the old man's words so clearly. It was all out now, and that was just another arousal. They thought they knew it all, understood it all. They probably believed they'd be safe in that foreknowledge.

And they couldn't be more wrong.

He tapped the gun he'd tucked, combat-style, in his boot. He could use it now if he wanted, take both of them out. Like shooting ducks in a barrel. That would leave the two women alone in the house, since Brian had driven off in a stone-spitting fit of temper.

He could have both of Annabelle's daughters, one after the other, both at once. A delicious ménage à trois.

Still, that would be a detour from the master plan. And the plan was serving him so well. Sticking to it would prove his discipline, his ability to conceive and execute. And if he wanted to duplicate the Annabelle experience, he would have to be patient just a little longer.

But that didn't mean he couldn't stir things up a bit in the meantime. Scared rabbits, he mused, were so much easier to trap.

He melted back into the trees and spent a pleasant hour contemplating the light in Jo's window.

K
IRBY jogged along the beach, hugging her solitude. The sky to the east was wildly red, gloriously, violently vivid with sunrise. She supposed that if the old adage were true, sailors better take warning, but she could only think how beautiful the morning was with its furious sky and high, wild winds.

Maybe they were in for a backslap from Carla after all, she thought, as her feet pounded the hard-packed sand. It might be exciting, and it would take Brian's mind off his troubles for a little while.

She wished she knew what to say to him, how to help him. All she'd been able to do when he'd roared into her cottage the night before was listen, as she had listened to Jo. But when she'd tried to comfort him, as she had comforted Jo, it hadn't been the soft, soothing words she'd offered that he wanted. So she'd given him the heat instead and had held on for dear life as he pounded out his misery in sex.

She hadn't been able to convince him to stay and sleep past dawn. He was up and gone before the sun peeked over the horizon. But at least he gathered her close, at least he pulled her to him. And she knew she'd steadied him for the return to Sanctuary.

Now she wanted to clear her head. If the man she loved was in trouble, if he was in distress, then so was she. She would gear herself up to stand by him, to see him through this, and she hoped, to guide him toward some peace.

Then she saw Nathan standing near where the booming breakers hammered the shoreline. Loyalty warred against reason as she slowed her pace. But in the end her need to help, to heal, overrode everything else. She simply couldn't turn her back on pain.

“Some morning.” She had to lift her voice over the thunder of surf and wind. Puffing only a little, she stopped beside him. “So, is your vacation living up to your expectations?”

He laughed. He couldn't help it. “Oh, yeah. It's the trip of a lifetime.”

“You need coffee. As a doctor, I'm supposed to tell you that caffeine isn't good for you, but I happen to know it often does the trick.”

“You offering?”

“I am.”

“I appreciate it, Kirby, but we both know I'm persona non grata. Brian wouldn't appreciate you sharing a morning cup with me. I can't blame him for it.”

“I do my own thinking, form my own impressions. That's why he's crazy about me.” She laid a hand on his arm. No, she couldn't turn her back on pain. Even the air around Nathan was hurting. “Come on up to the house. Think of me as your kindly island doctor. Bare your soul.” She smiled at him. “I'll even bill you for an office visit if you want.”

“Such a deal.” He took a long breath. “Christ, I could use a cup of coffee. I could use the ear too.”

“And I've got both. Come on.” She tucked her arm in his and walked away from the shore. “So, the Hathaways gave you a rough time.”

“Oh, I don't know, they were fairly gracious all in all. That southern hospitality. My father raped and murdered your mother, I tell them. Hell, nobody even tried to lynch me.”

“Nathan.” She paused at the base of her steps. “It's a hell of a mess, and a terrible tragedy all around. But none of them will blame you once they're able to think it through.”

“Jo doesn't. Of all of them, she's the most vulnerable because of it, but she doesn't.”

“She loves you.”

“She may yet get over that. Lexy didn't,” he murmured. “She looked me straight in the eye, her cheeks still wet from crying, and told me none of it was my responsibility.”

“Lexy uses pretenses and masks and foolishness and uses them expertly. So she can see through them and cut to the bone faster than most.” She opened her door, turned back to him. “And Nathan, none of it is, or was, your responsibility.”

“I know that intellectually, and I'd almost convinced myself of it emotionally—I wanted to because I wanted Jo. But it's not over, Kirby. It's not finished. At least one other woman is dead now, so it's not over.”

She nodded and held the door open for him. “We'll talk about that too.”

 

 

CARLA teased the southeast coast of Florida, giving Key Biscayne a quick and violent kiss before shimmying north. In her capricious way, she did a tango with Fort Lauderdale, scattered trailers and tourists and took a few lives. But she didn't seem inclined to stay.

Her eye was cold and wide, her breath fast and eager. She'd grown stronger, wilder since her birth in the warm waters of the West Indies.

Like a vengeful whore, she spun back out to sea, stomping her sharp heels over the narrow barrier islands in her path.

 

 

LEXY hurried into the guest room where Jo was just smoothing the spread on the walnut sleigh bed. The sun beamed hot and brilliant through the open balcony doors, highlighting the shadows under Jo's eyes that spoke of a restless night.

“Carla just hit St. Simons,” Lexy said, a little breathless from her rush up two flights of stairs.

“St. Simons? I thought she was tracking west.”

“She changed her mind. She's heading north, Jo. The last report said if she keeps to course and velocity, her leading edge will hit here before nightfall.”

“How bad is she?”

“She's clawed her way up to category three.”

“Winds of over a hundred miles an hour. We'll need to batten down.”

“We're going to evacuate the tourists before the seas get too rough for ferry crossings. Kate wants you to help down at checkout. I'm going out with Giff. We'll start boarding up.”

“All right, I'll be down. Let's hope she heads out to sea and gives us a pass.”

“Daddy's on the radio getting updates. Brian went down to see that the boat's fueled and supplied in case we have to leave.”

“Daddy won't leave. He'll ride it out if he has to tie himself to a tree.”

“But you will.” Lexy stepped closer. “I went by your room earlier, saw your suitcases open and nearly packed.”

“There's more reason for me to go than to stay.”

“You're wrong, Jo. There's more for staying, at least until we find the way to settle this for everyone. And we need to bury Mama.”

“Oh, God, Lexy.” Jo covered her face, then stood there with her fingers pressed to her eyes.

“Not her body. But we need to put a marker up in the cemetery, and we need to say good-bye. She loved us. All my life I thought she didn't, and that maybe it was because of me.”

When Lexy's voice broke, Jo dropped her hands. “Why would you think something like that?”

“I was the youngest. I thought she hadn't wanted another child, hadn't wanted me. So I spent most of my life trying so hard to make people love me, people want me. I'd be whatever I thought they'd like best. I'd be stupid or I'd be smart. I'd be helpless or I'd be clever. And I'd always make sure I left first.”

She walked over, carefully shut the balcony doors. “I've done a lot of hateful things,” she continued. “And it's likely I'll do plenty more. But knowing the truth's changed something inside me. I have to say good-bye to her. We all do.”

“I'm ashamed I didn't think of it,” Jo murmured. “If I go before it can all be arranged, I'll come back. I promise.” She bent down to gather up the linens she'd stripped from the bed. “Despite everything, I'm glad I came back this time. I'm glad things have changed between us.”