Harbour Lights. Sherryl Woods
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dishing out.
She pulled a chair close and sat so that her knees were brushing his. She covered one of his hands with hers. The show of sympathy was almost his undoing.
“Listen to me, Kev. You need to get out of this house.”
Alarm shot through him. “Why? Has Gram said something? Is having Davy underfoot too much for her? Do she and Dad want me out of here?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know better,” she said impatiently. “This is your home. I wasn’t saying you should move. I was saying you need to get a life.” Her gaze, locked with his, was filled with compassion. “I know this is going to sound harsh, but somebody needs to say it. Georgia died. You didn’t. And Davy needs his dad, the real one, not the one who walks around here all day in a daze.”
He frowned at her. “I’m not drinking, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Nobody said you were. Look, I’m saying all this now, before everyone else has a chance to gang up on you. You know it’s coming. You must. This family can’t keep their opinions to themselves worth a damn. It’s amazing we’ve all been so quiet for this long.”
He smiled, despite his sour mood. “You’re right about that.”
“Will you at least think about what I’ve said? If you promise to do that much, I’ll run interference and keep the others at bay a while longer. Abby, the mother hen, is champing at the bit to offer her own special brand of tough love. She’s worried sick that you haven’t snapped out of this dark mood.”
Since he would do just about anything to keep from being surrounded by all that well-meaning concern, especially from his oldest sister, he nodded. “There’s just one thing.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t have any idea at all what to do with myself.”
“You’re a paramedic,” she reminded him at once. “There are openings right here in town. I’ve checked.”
He shook his head. “No. I’ll never do that again.” His career was all twisted up in his mind with Georgia and how she’d died on a call to a market in Baghdad after an explosive device had been triggered, killing and wounding a bunch of innocent civilians. She and her team had arrived just in time for the second bomb to be detonated. Kevin knew his reaction, his refusal to put his EMT training to good use, wasn’t rational, but then he wasn’t operating much on reason these days.
“You sure about that?” Jess asked.
“A hundred percent.”
Her expression brightened. “Then I have an even better idea.”
He didn’t like the glint in her eyes one bit. Jess had always had a knack for getting into mischief. Ideas came fast and furiously with her. It was the follow-through that was lacking. Or had been, anyway, until she’d opened The Inn at Eagle Point. That seemed to have captured her complete attention. After a shaky start, she had the place running smoothly and successfully.
“What’s your idea?” he asked warily.
“A fishing charter,” she said at once, then rushed in before he could utter an immediate objection. “You could lease dock space at the Harbor Lights Marina. Come on, Kev, at least think about it. You spent half your life on the water as a kid. You always claimed it calmed you, even if you didn’t come home with a single rockfish or croaker. And naturally, because you didn’t really give two hoots about catching them, the fish practically jumped into your boat.”
“You want me to become a waterman?” he asked incredulously. It was a hard, demanding life, especially with the impact that farming and other human misdeeds were having on fish, crabs and oysters in the bay’s waters, to say nothing of what skyrocketing fuel costs had done to profit margins.
“Not exactly. I want you to take people out on your boat to fish.”
He gave her a wry look. “The only boat I currently own is barely big enough for me and one passenger, and I wind up rowing home more often than not because the motor’s unreliable.”
“Which is exactly why you’ll spend some of that trust fund money that’s sitting in the bank on a bigger, more reliable boat. Dad set up those funds for us to buy a home or start a business. I know you haven’t touched yours, so the start-up money’s there, Kev.”
“And you think this can become an actual career?” he asked skeptically.
“It’s not up there with saving lives,” she said pointedly. “But I get requests practically every day from guests at the inn who want to go fishing. There’s no one in town who does charters. Once in a while I can convince George Jenkins to take someone out, but he has the conversational skills of a clam.”
Kevin thought about the long, lazy days he and Connor had spent on the bay as boys. They were some of the best in his life. He hadn’t cared a fig about catching fish, just as Jess said, but he’d loved the peace and quiet of being on the water. Of course, if he had a boat full of strangers along, the tranquillity would pretty much be shattered. Yet somehow the idea took hold.
Jess regarded him hopefully. “You’ll think about it?”
There were a thousand practical things to be considered, but the idea held promise. He’d have to take classes to become licensed to be a captain, for example, and that would get him out of the house. Maybe that alone would be enough to keep everyone off his case.
He nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good! Now let’s go outside and spoil that son of yours rotten,” Jess said, dragging him to his feet. “You should see his haul of presents. They’re piled high. Davy doesn’t entirely understand yet that they’re his, so this should be fun.”
Fun wasn’t something Kevin had had in his life for a while now, but when he saw Davy running around on his chubby little legs, his mouth already streaked with chocolate frosting, he couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. And when Davy spotted his father and a smile spread across his face, Kevin felt a split second of pure joy. It was Georgia’s smile, as bright and carefree as she had been.
For the first time since his wife had died, the sorrow lifted briefly and he felt hopeful again.
Despite his promise to Jess, Kevin spent two more weeks holed up at home, passing his days with Davy and his evenings hiding out in his room away from Gram’s pitying looks and his father’s increasing impatience. Mick clearly had plenty to say to him, Kevin could tell, but apparently an edict from Gram had kept his father silent. He doubted that would last much longer.
To his surprise, it was Gram herself who broke the silence first. She joined him on the porch at dusk one evening, handed him a glass of iced tea and a plate of his favorite oatmeal raisin cookies and said, “We need to talk.”
“About?” Kevin asked, even more wary than he had been when Jess had made the same announcement. If Jess was good at uncomfortable, straight talk, it was because she’d learned from a master—their grandmother. Nell O’Brien had stepped in to raise them after their mother and father had divorced. She had a huge heart and a tart tongue.
“The way you’re moping around this house day in and day out,” she replied. “It’s not good for you, and it’s certainly not good for your boy. A child needs to expand his world, to see other children.”
Kevin frowned at that. “His cousins are here all the time.”
“Caitlyn and Carrie are almost eight now, and while they love playing with Davy, he needs to be with some youngsters his own age.” She gave him a penetrating look. “He needs to laugh, Kevin. When was the last time you got down on the ground and rough-housed with him, made him giggle?”
“Seems to me that Dad’s filling that role.” In fact, Mick seemed to delight in it.
“It’s his father who ought to be doing it, not his grandfather. When was the last time you