The Wanderer (Thunder Point #1)

The Wanderer (Thunder Point #1) Page 26

Author: Robyn Carr

“Coast Guard. You’re gonna move, that’s how it is. But I loved Alaska. Even though I was just a little kid when we were in Kodiak, I hated to leave. I’d go back there in a second. I’ll go wherever a football team will cover my tuition for college, but if I had my choice, I’d head back to Kodiak.”

“I haven’t been very many places,” Eve said. “We’ve been on some cool camping trips, but if we can’t drive there, we can’t go.”

He smiled his lopsided smile and touched her cheek. “Nothing wrong with that, Eve. I like camping. So does Sarah.”

“In summer, sometimes a bunch of us camp on the beach,” she said.

“Really? All night?”

She nodded. “And we try not to notice the deputy’s SUV parked at the edge of the beach.”

He tightened his arms around her. “Guess there’s no zipping sleeping bags together....”

“Don’t worry, Landon. He probably nods off. At least that’s what he does in his chair every night.”

“So. There is a God.”

Gina looked around the colorful gymnasium, now almost empty of people. The teens who had driven their dates started to leave by nine or so; the chaperones followed suit as the number of kids on the dance floor thinned out. Lou McCain was among the first to leave; she wanted to check on Ryan and Dee Dee. Quite a few kids, maybe fifty, hung around the dance until the last dog died and they were herded out the door. Aside from the refreshments, there was very little cleanup. The kids who put up the decorations would be back to strip them down on Sunday afternoon.

Mac stood near the back door of the gym talking with one of the deputies, Charlie Adams. He rocked back on his heels and laughed—a good sign. Charlie must have stopped by to say the town was quiet with nothing much going on.

God, but he was perfect. Perfect-looking. As men go, Deputy Yummy Pants was an amazing specimen, but he was apparently a eunuch. Or gay. But either was impossible to grasp. In the four years they’d been good friends, there’d been those couple of times he’d kissed her with awesome, sincere passion...then backed right off on the excuse of parenthood.

She often wondered if he had some chickie buried somewhere out of sight, some woman he saw regularly who scratched his itch so that around town he could appear completely unattached. Maybe she was a terrible kisser and he came to his senses?

Men flirted with her regularly. She was behind the counter at the diner, after all. Nearly every man in town passed her way at one time or another, as did the occasional out-of-towner—the UPS guy, the beverage guy, the guy who delivered the meat. She’d grown up in this town. She’d known a lot of the people forever. After having a baby in high school and keeping her, living with her mother as she did, it had taken quite a lot to retrench her reputation and emerge as one of Thunder Point’s best-liked and most-respected residents. Back in high school, she imagined people whispered that she was a slut. Now they thought of her as upstanding, thanks to years of church, PTA and town meetings. Oh, and very little traffic with the opposite sex, though she had dated a bit here and there.

Not in the past few years, however. It seemed pointless.

Before she could brood any longer, Mac was walking toward her with her coat slung over one arm. She wanted to be angry with him for tying up her heart the way he had, but she couldn’t. He might not be her boyfriend or lover, but he was always there for her. Always. The best friend she’d ever had.

“Thanks,” she said, taking her coat and shrugging into it.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said, taking her elbow.

“Thank God the diner doesn’t open at five on Sunday mornings,” she grumbled. “I’m exhausted.”

“You need more days off.”

“I need bigger tips,” she said as she laughed.

“Yeah, me, too.” He opened the back door for her. “And a good time was had by all,” he said. “No fights, no accidents and, as far as I know, no illegal drugs or drinking.”

“Or they’re getting better at hiding it,” she added.

“Never saw a hint of trouble.”

“Oh, there was little stuff. Predictable stuff. A couple of girls crying in the bathroom. One over her date, who was acting like an idiot, raving about some other girl’s cleavage. There was one notable clothing malfunction that had to be pinned back into place—an entire breast escaped and every high school boy in the room claimed to have seen it. And then you have the mean girls—Patrice, Stellie and Harmony.” She sighed. “I think Harmony is the worst one. She just can’t live up to her name.”

“What did the mean girls do?” he wanted to know.

“Being a guy, you probably wouldn’t catch on. They stick together in a little clot, whisper, shift their eyes toward their victim du jour—some younger, simpler, more vulnerable creature—and then they giggle. That sort of thing. Lean toward each other on the dance floor, whisper and stare, laugh. Spread rumors, like saying Lindsay got her dress at the Goodwill until Lindsay—who did get her dress at the Goodwill—ends up in the bathroom crying, begging to just go home.”

He looked a little shell-shocked. “That’s horrible!”

“With all the things you see on the job, I’m surprised you’re surprised. People can behave very badly. Especially teenagers.” It didn’t even bear mentioning what her generation of mean girls had to say about her when she turned up pregnant at fifteen.

“I can’t stand to think of some nice girl like Lindsay crying over her secondhand dress! My kids have all worn secondhand clothes. Lou gets pretty excited about good hand-me-downs and, God knows, a sheriff’s deputy with three kids isn’t shopping at the high-end stores. How’d you know that was happening?”

She gave a shrug. “I’ve done my share of bathroom crying. Not for a very long time, however.”

“Eve and Ash aren’t putting up with crap like that, are they?” he asked. “If you knew, you’d tell me, right?”

She stopped walking and turned to look up at him. “Listen, Mac, the girls are pretty secure. They present a strong front. Ash has got Downy on alert and not only is he a big strong boy, but there’s still a little hero worship at the school. In spite of that, they occasionally have their dramas. But if I knew either of them were being persecuted by mean girls, I’d tell Lou.”

“Not me?”

“Lou would probably tell you, if she thought it was serious. But men tend to say things like, Aw, don’t let ’em get to you. Girls need sympathy. Vindication. A soft shoulder to cry on, encouragement. Men just want their girls to rise above it.”

“Is that true?” he asked.

She nodded.

He thought for a minute. “I think you might be right. I might say something like that. And I might think it was the right thing to say.”

“Yeah. It’s not about how much you love your daughters, Mac. It’s more what you’re programmed to say.”

He walked with her again and opened the door to her Jeep. “How do you know these things? You haven’t had a man around in forever. No dad, no husband, no steady boyfriend unless you keep him hidden. Yet you know how men work.”

She slipped into her Jeep and smiled at him. “Pure genius,” she said. “See you later.”

Twelve

The diner on Sunday mornings was a different kind of place than the rest of the week. It was a good place for families to stop on the way home from church or on the way to some outing. There were also weekend athletes and pleasure seekers—cyclists or, in warmer weather, sports fishermen, paddleboard enthusiasts, people taking their boats out for a nice day on the bay.

Gina didn’t work at the diner every Sunday, but she didn’t mind when she did. She liked the mornings and only worked the dinner hour if she was filling in for someone. From her place behind the counter, she saw the new town doctor pull his van up to his storefront clinic across the street. He got out, this time with two children—a little girl and little boy. He had one on each hand, but rather than going inside the clinic, he walked across the street to the diner. Gina had only seen him from a distance, going in or out of that space. And she had never seen the children.

They were so little, so young. She’d heard from Mac that he was a single father, but it was hard to imagine how he could put in doctor hours and parent full-time, even with a babysitter. He held the door for them, first the little girl, then the little boy. She could tell from across the street that he was a nice-looking man, but up close he was better than that—he was gorgeous. And the children? Delicious.

“Morning,” she said from behind the counter. “Sit anywhere you like.”

“How about right here? At the counter?”

“Be my guest.”

He lifted his daughter onto a stool first, then his son. The little girl had shiny hair pulled back with barrettes and wore a little green jumper over a long-sleeved T-shirt and white tights. The little boy, his hair cut in a short, adult style and neatly combed, had a couple of cowlicks. He wore jeans and little boots and a denim jacket. Both the kids had mahogany-colored hair and huge brown eyes, while the doctor had dark blond hair with blue eyes. Very kind blue eyes.

When the kids were settled on their stools, he put out his hand. “Scott Grant,” he said.

She took the hand. “Gina James. So nice to meet you. And who are your friends?”

“This is Jenny and this is Will. Age three and four.”

“They’re beautiful,” she said. “So? Coffee? Juice? Breakfast? Parenting advice for when they’re teenagers?”

“I appreciate it,” he said with a laugh. “I’d love a cup of coffee and the kids would like juice—maybe apple? And if you have it, cereal for them.”

“And for you?” she asked, filling his cup.

“Just coffee,” he said. “I woke up early and already had breakfast.”

She quickly set up the juice and cereal for the kids. Then she said, “It’s very exciting to have a clinic opening up. We haven’t had a doctor’s office in town for about five years now. We had a couple of doctors here when I was growing up, but one retired and one moved, joining a busy practice in Eugene. The nearest hospital or urgent care is Bandon. If you need a few stitches or some blood work, it’s a major time investment.”

“I know. I hope that will change, but we’re a long way from opening. I’m working in Bandon now, helping out a family practitioner and taking call at the hospital E.R. while I get this set up. Just buying and installing the equipment is a major undertaking—and the office still needs cleaning up and decorating. And I haven’t even thought about staff. I don’t suppose you know any R.N.s around here who are looking for a change?”

“I don’t. I’m sorry. But if you give me a list of what you’re looking for, this isn’t a bad place to spread the word.”

“Thanks, that’s a good idea.”

“And I understand you have an au pair for the kids? Small town, you know,” she added with a smile and shrug.

“Gabriella. I knew her parents in Vancouver. She’s a brilliant girl, if a little old-fashioned. She’s also beautiful. Smart and hardworking and dependable...” He stopped, looking a little startled by what he’d said. He leaned toward her as if he needed to say something very personal. “Hey,” he said. “Small town here. Are people around here going to be put off or suspicious of my relationship with a nineteen-year-old au pair? I’m a thirty-six-year-old man, a widower, and have absolutely no—”

She held up a hand and smiled at him. “Don’t borrow trouble,” she said. “We’re kind of a bunch of hicks on the water around here, but I know of a couple of girls from town who took au pair jobs to get to Europe. You’ll probably find that she’s referred to more often as your babysitter.”