“You’re just like your father. Always meddling, poking your nose into my business.”
“I’ve always wondered if you blamed me for who my dad was. I guess you do.” It shouldn’t have hurt Reid, and he couldn’t let Jane see how it stabbed him. “You want to tell Jane what she needs to know? If so, I can cancel the tickets.”
Charles swiped his hand over his bushy white hair. “Her mother will hurt her more. Don’t you understand? The woman should never have been a mother.”
“She has two other daughters,” Jane said.
Charles whipped around to glare at her. “And maybe she neglects them like she did you.”
Jane winced and took a step back. “For someone who doesn’t want to see me hurt, you’re twisting the knife, Dad. This is something I have to do. I don’t trust Gabriel, and I need to find out what he wants before he hurts someone here. I always knew I’d face my mother someday. It might as well be today.”
“When you asked me to watch Will, I had no idea it was for a harebrained scheme like this.” Charles tossed the spatula on the end table. “I’m not going to help you.”
“Fine. He can stay with a friend. You’re not stopping me, Dad. I’m doing this.”
More red spread across Charles’s cheeks in ugly splotches. “You’re a pigheaded fool.”
Reid clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Charles, calm down. You want to hurt Will as well as Jane? You and our boy have a wonderful relationship. Don’t spoil it like this. He’ll be inside any minute. You don’t want him to see you angry.”
Charles took several deep breaths, then snatched up the spatula and strode to the kitchen where he banged around the skillet and other pots.
Jane took Reid’s hand. “Thank you.”
“Want to change your mind?”
“Yes, but I’m not going to. I’m terrified of seeing her, but it’s time. Past time. I’m trying to prepare myself for her rejection, but I’m not sure how I’ll take it. I’m glad we’re not bringing Will. It would be hard on him.” She nodded toward the door. “Here he comes now. Don’t say anything.”
“Of course not.” Reid forced a smile and turned to greet his son and rub Parker’s head. “You hungry? Your grandpa is fixing breakfast.”
The boy sniffed. “Smells burned. Grandpa, what’d you do?” He joined Charles in the kitchen to inspect the bacon. “I don’t mind burned bacon. Nothing ruins bacon.” He popped several charred pieces into his mouth. “Can you make me an omelet? One of your hot ones with the peppers? I brought a new game for us to play.”
As Will chattered on, the color in Charles’s face receded. He was nodding and smiling by the time Reid brought in Will’s backpack and computer.
He touched Jane’s hand. “Let’s get out of here while we can.”
They hugged Will but skirted any more conversation with Charles before they headed for the door. Parker followed them with a mournful expression.
At the door Jane rubbed her dog’s ears. “You have to stay here, boy. We’ll be back in a couple of days.”
Reid shut the door behind them. “In spite of everything, I’m looking forward to having you to myself. Does that make me a terrible person?”
Her smile reached all the way to her eyes. “Being with you is the only thing that will make it bearable.”
“Careful. Words like that just might go to my head.”
She laughed, and the sound kick-started his anticipation. There might be some time for a little romance in Maine. He could hope.
* * *
Reid’s shoulder brushed Jane’s as they stood at the bow of the ferry and watched Folly Shoals draw near. The sea spray hit him in the face, and he licked the salt off his lips. In spite of being early June, the air was crisp with the wind. It was supposed to be near sixty but it felt more like forty. “Glad we brought jackets.”
She nodded and pulled the hood up on her navy windbreaker. “And jeans. I’d be freezing in shorts.”
He zipped up his jacket and rubbed his cold ears. “I’ll be ready for coffee when we land.”
He tried not to worry about what she was facing, but it was nearly impossible not to imagine the look on her face if her mother rejected her. And that scenario was very likely.
The ferry engine puttered down, and they watched the island draw nearer. He’d never been to Maine, and the remoteness surprised him.
Jane pointed. “Look at that hotel and the gorgeous watermelon tourmaline inset in the stonework around the entry door. We’re staying there?”
“Yep. Got us two rooms.”
Like the masthead of a great ship, the stone walls and mullioned windows of Hotel Tourmaline surveyed its island location of wind-tossed waves and craggy rocks. The island of Folly Shoals sat just northeast of the Schoodic Peninsula, and the five-story hotel dominated the landscape atop its pink granite cliffs.
“You still scared or did the flight calm you down?”
Jane tucked a loose strand of light-brown hair back into the hood of her jacket. “Petrified.” Her hazel eyes were more green today in the sunlight as she turned her gaze up to his. “If I didn’t have to do this, I wouldn’t.”
“I know. I wish I could carry the burden for you, but it’s something you have to face yourself.”
Her gaze flickered. “You are carrying more of the weight than you know. I think I would have procrastinated if you hadn’t taken charge. I don’t really want to hear her excuses.”
He slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her against his side to shelter her from the stiff breeze. “Maybe your dad hasn’t told you the whole truth. He’s not exactly forthcoming.”
She didn’t pull away, which encouraged him, and he rested his chin atop her hair and breathed in the vanilla aroma of her hair mixed with the scent of the ocean. Sometimes he wished he could take her away from the stressful job of police chief. Just the three of them off on an adventure together. Maybe Hawaii or Alaska. But she’d never go for it. She had a streak of responsibility as wide as the Atlantic Ocean foaming around them.
The ferry bumped as it docked, and the throng of people began to move toward the gateway. She straightened but didn’t move until most of the passengers disembarked. “It’s showtime.”
“I know. Let’s get our car. I’ve got the location to your mom’s house already in the GPS. I think it’s about five minutes from the hotel.”
Her hand felt clammy in his, and he detected a bit of a tremble as he led her to the car he’d rented in Bangor, a bright-blue convertible. After shutting the door behind her, he went around and got in, then put down the top in spite of the chill. It was warmer here off the water with the buildings breaking the wind. Maybe the sunshine would lift the pall surrounding both of them. He drove off the ferry onto the island and turned to drive to town.
He drove past the lavish hotel and along the streets of Folly Shoals. The quaint town was a fishing village straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Lobster traps lay heaped in the yards. Boats of all sizes and conditions, from pleasure boats to fishing boats, bobbed in the waves at their moorings in Sunset Cove. Bigger, nicer homes with manicured lawns sandwiched the older homes occupied by fishermen. People with coolers awaited the fishing and lobster boats chugging toward the pier.