Shore Lights (12 page)

“Oh, thank you thank you thank you! I'm waiting for Dr. G. to call me back, and if he can squeeze me in before he starts regular office hours, I'm going to—”

She would still be talking if he hadn't reminded her to hang up so Dr. G. could get through to her.

He made some toast, gulped down some more black coffee, then hit the road. Claire said the bus came by at 8:48 sharp, which meant he'd have to haul ass if he was going to make it to physical therapy for his nine o'clock.

Billy Jr. was running circles in the front yard when he got there, while a shivering Claire watched from the doorway. She looked tired, out of sorts, and eager to say goodbye to the perpetual motion machine masquerading as her offspring.

“I owe you,” she called out, then vanished into the house before Aidan could even call out a greeting.

“Got everything?” Aidan asked as he strapped his nephew in.

“Can we buy candy before school?”

“No candy.”

“Can we drive through McDonald's for an Egg Mc-Muffin?”

“Not today, buddy. Gotta get you to school.”

“I don't really have to go,” Billy Jr. said. “I could stay with you.”

“Nice try,” Aidan said as he backed out of the driveway, “but you're going to school.”
You're so much like your old man . . . so damn much
. . .

“We could go to the lighthouse.”

“We'll go to the lighthouse while you're on Christmas break.”

“Today's better.”

“Maybe for you,” Aidan said, “but I have P.T. at nine o'clock.”

Billy Jr. looked over at him. “What's that?”

“Physical therapy.” He rolled to a stop at the corner of Summertree Road and Main Street. “A group of people at the hospital are helping me get my leg back in shape.”

“So it'll work right?”

“That's what we're aiming for.” No point telling the kid about the odds. O'Malleys learned all about the odds soon enough.

Billy Jr. said nothing. He swiveled his head toward the window and stared out at a gray cat sprawled on the top step of Marini's Martinizing. Billy's memory filled the truck. His laughter echoed in the space between them. The sharp bracing smell of the Altoids he popped morning, noon, and night that made their nostrils quiver. His jokes, his temper, his deep sense of loyalty, the way he loved his family (the trouble he had showing it), the wild streak that blew through him like a late summer hurricane that barreled up the shore and left behind nothing but destruction. All of the bits and pieces that had made Billy O'Malley the man he was lay deep inside the boy looking out the truck window at the old gray cat.

He reached into the console next to his seat and pulled out a Milky Way.

“Here,” he said, tossing it to Billy Jr.

“Before school?” The kid's expression lurched between hope and disbelief.

“You only live once.”

Billy Jr. grinned at him and tore open the wrapper. “Thanks!”

“You know,” he said carefully, “your dad liked Milky Ways, too.”
If you want to talk, buddy, I'm here. I'll always be here for you
.

“He did?”

“Big time. He used to hide them in the hamper with the dirty socks.”

“Gross.” Who knew the kid could smile that wide with all that chocolate in his mouth?

“Real gross,” Aidan said. “Especially when our mom tossed them in the washer and the chocolate melted all over her favorite blouse.”

“My mom would have a cow.”

“Our mom sure did. She took all of his eight-track tapes away for a week.”
She was your grandma Mary Ellen, Billy Jr. . . . She would've loved you
.

“His eight what?”

Talk about feeling old. “Music,” he said. “She said he couldn't listen to his favorite stuff until he learned not to hide chocolate bars in with the laundry.”

“Moms get real mad about stuff like that,” Billy observed as he crammed the rest of the candy bar into his mouth.

“So do daughters,” he said as they angled into a parking spot a half-block down from the bus stop. “Kelly was doing the wash one day and I tossed a shirt into the machine without checking my pockets.”

“Uh-oh,” said Billy.

“You know that fancy fountain pen I let you try?”

Billy nodded.

“You wouldn't believe how much ink that sucker holds.”

Billy snorted with laughter.

“Think it's funny, do you?” Aidan pretended annoyance as he set the parking brake and turned off the engine.

“Yeah,” said Billy.

“Kelly wasn't laughing when she saw what happened to the towels.”

“Girls get real upset about that stuff,” Billy observed with all the wisdom of his seven years. “My dad said that's why I had to try extra-hard to stay out of trouble.”

“That was good advice.”

“Yeah,” he said. “My dad always gave good advice.”

“You're right,” said Aidan as they started walking toward the knot of women and children waiting at the corner. “He gave great advice.”

Too bad he never took any of it
.

“A SNOW SKY,” Denise said as Maddy, Hannah, and Priscilla joined the group. “Bet we have a good six inches by nightfall.”

“Six inches? Oh, what I could say about that if the munchkins weren't around.” Gina's eyes twinkled with mischief and the other women laughed.

“Now, that's exactly what I
don't
need,” Pat said, clapping her hands over her daughter's ears. “Nothing but trouble, if you ask me.”

“And they're not even pretty,” Joann said. “You could forgive a lot if they weren't so damn funny looking.”

Maddy struggled to control her own laughter. Thank God Hannah was busy parading Priscilla in front of a cluster of cousins. Oh, the endless afternoons she and her own cousins had spent discussing the mysteries of the still undiscovered male member.
It's so . . . does it really . . . get OUT of here . . . I don't BELIEVE it . . . no way would I ever
. . .

“Wouldn't you think we'd have it all figured out by now?” she asked.

“You must be kidding,” Gina said, still laughing. “It's like Big Foot or Nessie. There have been brief sightings over the years but only limited contact. You need to keep one in captivity long enough to conduct a real study.”

“Only Claire's managed to—” Denise glanced around. “Where
is
Claire anyway?”

“She's late,” Delia said.

Denise shot her a
Duh
look.

“Maybe Billy's ears are acting up again.”

“He looked fine yesterday.”

“You know how quick those things flare up. Maybe—”

“Isn't that her son?” Maddy asked as Billy Jr. bounded into view followed by a tall, broad-shouldered man. The man wore jeans, a worn-looking leather jacket that emphasized the impressive dimensions of his chest, and work boots. The standard male uniform on the Jersey Shore. He favored his right side, which gave his walk an odd, syncopated gait. His hair was thick and a little too long for fashion, a russet brown shade that probably showed strands of gold and red in the sunshine. Bits and pieces of memory tugged at Maddy's sleeve. He seemed familiar, like somebody she should know but didn't.

“Who's the guy with Billy Jr.?” she asked. Nobody had even hinted at the existence of a new man in Claire's life, but there he was with the woman's youngest. Her brother, maybe? Their coloring was similar.

Denise narrowed her eyes in their general direction. “You dope. That's her brother-in-law, Aidan. You know, from O'Malley's Bar and Grill. I wonder why he's pulling school bus duty.”

“That's Aidan O'Malley?” Maddy asked. Aidan O'Malley had been a star athlete at school, one of those big strong kids whose physical presence commanded attention the second he walked into a room. “Why the cane?”

“Shh,” Gina warned. “It happened at the same warehouse fire where he lost his brother. He went back in to try to find Billy when the roof collapsed.” Gina shuddered and wrapped her arms across her middle. “He spent a few months in the hospital. They weren't sure he'd ever walk again.”

Billy Jr. made a beeline for Hannah and Priscilla.

Aidan seemed to be making a beeline for Gina.

Maddy lowered her voice and talked fast. “But I thought he'd left town years ago. When did he—”

“Hey, ladies.” He was one of those big men who carry their strength lightly. He didn't ask to be the center of attention. He simply was. It was clear to Maddy that all he had to do was step into a room (or stand on a street corner as it were) and all eyes were on him. Tall, broad chest, long legs, great butt—she hadn't seen him from the rear yet, but she'd bet money on it—what's not to like?

The fact that he had a great smile didn't hurt, either. Wide, a little lopsided, lots of white teeth, with an appealing touch of irony around the edges. Age had done little to diminish his appeal, but the cocky self-confidence of youth was gone. His green-gold eyes rested for a moment on Maddy and she barely managed to hold back a gasp at the startling sight of the long jagged white scar that bisected the right side of his face. Suddenly the irony made perfect sense.

“Where's Claire?” Joann demanded. “Is something wrong?”

“She's at the dentist,” Aidan said, his eyes straying back to Maddy, as if he were riffling through his mental Rolodex, trying to place her.

“Ouch,” said Gina, rolling her eyes. “The root canal?”

Aidan nodded. “She didn't look too happy when I swung by for Billy.”

“Well, don't worry,” Denise said with a friendly pat on the man's forearm. For an instant Maddy's fingertips seemed to register the swell of muscle beneath his sleeve. “I'll make sure Billy Jr. gets home after school. Tell Claire to take it easy.”

Aidan thanked her, then glanced in Maddy's direction again.

“Sorry,” he said, flashing that off-balance smile. “You look familiar, but I can't—”

“Maddy Bainbridge,” she said, extending her right hand. “I was four years behind you in school.” Not that he would remember. He had already graduated when she began freshman year and was about to kick over the traces of their South Jersey 'burb for college in Pennsylvania courtesy of a big fat juicy athletic scholarship.

He had rough, callused hands and a firm grip. Strong hands. Beautiful hands with long fingers and wide palms that could gently cup a woman's face when he . . .

Knock it off, Maddy. Save the fantasies for Hannah's bedtime stories
.

Still, his hands were noteworthy and she was enough of a connoisseur of all things beautiful to commit their contours swiftly to memory.

Men had no idea how important hands were or of how closely women observed them. She noted a crisscrossed webbing of faint scars at the base of his thumb and across the top of his wrist and wondered if he'd acquired them at the warehouse fire or somewhere else. Sometimes the body told your story before you said a word.

“Gina's cousin?” he asked.

“One of many.” That was how you identified yourself in Paradise Point. You were Gina's cousin. Lucy's niece. Fay's granddaughter. Hannah's mother. Rose's daughter. No more than two degrees separated her from every single person in town. When she was a little girl, she had dreamed about escaping to the blissful anonymity of some faraway city where she could take chances, make mistakes, even fall flat on her face a time or two without having to explain herself to a dozen concerned relatives before sundown.

The reality hadn't proved to be quite so satisfying as the dream.

He studied her face with open curiosity. “I think I see a little DiFalco in the jawline and around the eyes.”

“It's mostly in the attitude,” she said as her own smile (which hadn't been used all that much lately) inched across her face.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, matching her smile for smile. “I know all about the DiFalco attitude.”

“In this town that could mean just about anything from marriage to divorce to I'll-see-you-in-Small-Claims-Court.”

Wouldn't you know it? The guy had a laugh to match the smile and the hands, one of those reluctant honey-coated rumbles that seem to erupt from deep inside a man's chest, then blossom as they work their way past his defenses. Maddy had always been a sucker for men who knew how to laugh, even if Aidan O'Malley seemed to be as out of practice as she was.

“Mommy!” Hannah's voice lifted above the din of children's chatter. “I'm stuck in 'Cilla's leash.” She sounded on the verge of tears, the way she did so often these days, and in that instant Maddy's brain emptied of everything but her little girl.

The puppy had wound her way around and between Hannah's feet until not an extra inch of leash remained untangled. Maddy glanced at the gaggle of young cousins and thought they looked a tad guilty. She longed to ask a few pointed questions, but right now the important thing was minimizing Hannah's embarrassment.

“Good grief,” Maddy said as she unclipped the leash from Priscilla's collar. “Priscilla, you've done quite a job.” She looked over her shoulder at O'Malley, who loomed behind her. “Here.” She thrust the puppy at him. “Take Priscilla while I untangle Hannah.”

“Don't you look cute,” Gina teased Aidan as the puppy curled up against his broad chest. “Maybe you should get one of your own.”

“I think Aidan's more the Lhasa apso type,” Denise chimed in.

“Whoa,” he broke in with a laugh. “Isn't that one of those little—”