The Husband She Never Knew. Cynthia Thomason
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showed her his open palm. “Before I grow a beard, miss.”
Beard? He hadn’t had one thirteen years ago, at least not on his wedding day. Now he had the shadow of one, lending a nonchalant dignity to his face. His hair was still a tangle of coffee-brown waves, though it fell no longer than the edge of his collar. The wind played havoc with it, but Vicki had the notion that it would look pretty much the way it did right now even on the calmest of days. And Jamie’s smile, the feature she remembered most, was still the solar center of his face. With a frown that said he didn’t have time for conversation or even a serious inspection of his visitor, he held up his staple gun to bring her back to her senses.
She threw the box underhanded. It somehow defied the wind and landed in Jamie’s grasp.
He opened the stapler, filled it and snapped it closed again. “Thanks. As soon as I get this tarp secured, I’ll come down and see what brought you out here on this wicked day.” He went down on his knees beyond the slight peak of his roof and she had only the sound effects of his work to identify where he was.
“Yes, please,” she shouted to the general vicinity of the stapler. “I won’t take much of your time, but I need to speak with you and be on my way as quickly as possible.”
After another minute the stapling stopped. Jamie stood up again and looked toward the mainland. He shook his head once before returning his attention to her. “Doesn’t look like you’ll be going anywhere today,” he said.
She stared across the sound. The waves had increased in size, but it wasn’t as if Pintail Point was no longer connected to the mainland. She could simply drive away, couldn’t she? “What are you talking about?”
“Causeway’s washed out. You can’t see it from where you’re standing, but I can. The water’s claimed the road about halfway between Pintail and the coast.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I’m afraid not. It happens with every good storm. In a day or two it’ll dry out.” He looked over his shoulder toward the Outer Banks and frowned. “Though this storm seems a bit worse than most. Come aboard and see for yourself.” He gestured. “The ladder’s just at the bow there.”
After considering for a moment that only a lunatic would climb to the roof of a houseboat in a fiercely blowing wind, Vicki headed for the ladder. She had to see for herself if Jamie’s assessment of the situation was correct. She crossed a narrow bridge from the ground to the boat, set her briefcase on the deck and moved around to an open porchlike space that spanned the front of the houseboat. The hull made a squeaking sound as it rocked against the rubber bumpers connecting it to the sturdy wooden dock.
Vicki had climbed nearly to the top of the ten rungs when Jamie appeared from above and offered his hand. When she looked up at him, his entire face changed. It was as if the sun had broken through a menacing layer of clouds. His green eyes sparkled and his wide grin produced a pair of distinctive dimples. “Bless my soul,” he said. “I thought you looked familiar, Vicki. After all these years, my sainted wife has come to me.”
Startled by his enthusiastic greeting, Vicki grasped his hand and stepped onto the upper deck. “I’m surprised you remember me.” She tried to hide the strangely pleasing effect his recognition had produced behind a sober expression.
“A man never forgets his first, Vicki darlin’,” he said. He was still holding her hand, she realized, and staring at her in an odd, almost familiar way. “How did you find me?”
Omitting the detail of the detective, Vicki said, “You were on the Internet.”
Jamie laughed. “I’ve achieved cyber-fame? Has the INS posted a Most Wanted list?”
The response, though meant to be humorous, still spawned an uncomfortable twinge of nerves in the pit of Vicki’s stomach. “Let’s hope not,” she said. “Or if they have, let’s assume they’ve got more desperate criminals to find than the two of us.”
Jamie chuckled. “That’s a good bet. Anyway, it’s nice to see you again, Vicki. Even on a day such as this one.”
“You’ve been on my mind lately, Mr. Malone.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “I’m flattered,” he replied. “But it’s ‘Mr. Malone,’ is it?”
She looked down before he could read her embarrassment in her face. It was, after all, a ridiculous way to address one’s husband.
“Are you certain you’ve got your footing?” he asked. “The wind’s blowing hard up here.”
She nodded and he released her hand but stayed by her side. Vicki cleared her throat and spoke close to his ear so he could decipher her words in the wind. “As I said, I’ve been thinking about you. About what we did. That’s why I’ve come. And I can’t stay but a few minutes.”
He pointed to the causeway. “You didn’t believe me, but have a look for yourself.”
Vicki stared across the sound from this improved vantage point and gasped. The mist was thickening, making visibility difficult. “I can hardly see anything,” she said. He took her hand and guided her to where she could make out a stream of water surging in frothy ripples across several yards of the gravel surface she’d driven over not twenty minutes before.
“Do you see that?” Jamie asked.
It looked as though the causeway had broken in two. She dropped her forehead into her hand and fought a rising panic. “Maybe if I leave now, I can just make it.”
“In that little car?” Jamie nodded toward her rental.
“Of course.”
“You’d be swept off the road and into the sound like a teacup in a whirlwind. I wouldn’t even attempt it in my truck.” He shrugged one shoulder with matter-of-fact acceptance of her predicament. “Guess you’re stuck here for the duration.” He touched her arm, drawing her attention to a spot in the distance. “Do you see that man on the mainland?”
She did. Barely.
“I’m betting that’s Deputy Blackwell putting up barricades like he does whenever the causeway’s washed out.”
Through the soupy mist she detected a figure on the coast, and suddenly a location a mere half mile distant seemed a continent away.
“It’s official,” Jamie said. “Luther’s not letting anyone on or off now.”
The deputy swept his arm in a huge arc over his head, and Jamie waved back. Then Luther Blackwell, the man who’d just decided Vicki’s fate for the next several hours at least, climbed in his patrol car and headed on down Sandy Ridge Road.
“I can’t miss my flight home,” Vicki said.
“Maybe you won’t,” Jamie said. “When is it?”
“Tomorrow at noon.”
He squinted at the darkening horizon. The first fat drops of rain pelted them, driven by a sudden gust of wind. “On the other hand, maybe you will.”
She was trapped on a virtual island with a man who was practically a stranger! Vicki couldn’t imagine a worse outcome to what was supposed to have been an uncomplicated mission. She knew nothing about Jamie. He could be half-crazy living out here in the middle of nowhere. Or worse.
“Let’s get down to ground level,” he said. “This roof’s as secure as she’s going to get, but we humans are tempting the elements.”
She tried to control a trembling that began in her legs and was working its way up. And I’m tempting fate, she thought.
Jamie helped her to the ladder. “Are you cold, Vicki?”
“No, I’m fine.” She scurried down and retrieved her briefcase while Jamie stowed his tools in the metal box. He whistled for his dog, who still lay in unperturbed comfort under the picnic