Coast Guard Courtship. Lisa Carter
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Now it looks as though I’ll be stuck with administrative work most of the time, one of the downsides to higher rank.”
Max stopped in his tracks. Amelia ran aground into him. Max’s big eyes shone. “Could you teach me how to be a rescue swimmer, Mr. Scott? Mimi sometimes lets me help her drive the boat as her coxswain. But I really want to learn to dive.”
She shook her head. “Max...”
“Call me Braeden, Max.” He shrugged. “Aren’t you too young to be thinking about that? You’ve got plenty of time.”
Amelia flinched as if he’d struck her. Her mouth quivered. “Max doesn’t even know how to swim yet.” She cupped the crown of his head.
Max threw off her hand. “’Cause you won’t let me learn.” His eyes blazed.
“We’ve talked about that. You’re not strong enough. Maybe next year...”
Max scowled.
She softened her tone. “Besides, the water’s too cold this time of year.”
“I’m not a baby,” Max growled.
Braeden furrowed his brows and tried to defuse the situation. “I’m sure your mother knows—”
Max stamped his foot. “She’s not my mother. My real mother’s dead, too.”
Hurt flickered across Amelia’s features.
Max’s nostrils flared. “She’s my aunt Mimi and she’s not the boss of me. I’m not a baby anymore.”
She snatched at his sleeve as heads rotated in their direction. “We’ll talk about this later at home.”
Max jerked out of her grasp and huddled next to Braeden. “I want to go to the ceremony with Braeden, not you, Mimi.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice.
Braeden raised his brows at Amelia, seeking her direction as to his next move. She gave a tiny shake of her head. Tears welled in her eyes. “Let’s not make a scene. Please, Max?”
An unfamiliar tenderness threatened to swamp Braeden’s carefully constructed indifference.
Max stared Amelia down.
Her shoulders slumped. “We’d better go closer so Max can see better.”
She slid Braeden an uncertain sidelong glance. “If you’re sure you don’t mind...or not too busy.”
Braeden’s pulse ratcheted a notch. “It’s okay. No problem.”
Amelia gazed at him with those big blue-green eyes of hers. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble on your first day.”
Braeden focused for a long moment on her eyes and processed the information he’d acquired via Max. Not his mother. Probably, therefore, judging by her lack of rings, not married.
He tamped down an irrational surge of joy.
Not that Braeden was in the market for a woman. Especially a redheaded one.
“Here, Max.” Grasping him by his upper arms, Braeden heaved the little boy atop his shoulders. Max entwined his legs around Braeden’s torso. “Best seat in the house, champ.”
Max grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
Chief Thomas took his place behind the podium. “Today we gather to bless these boats. We ask a blessing for those who work on them, for those who fish from these waters providing food to our country. For those who utilize these waters for recreation and pleasure.”
His arm swept across the expanse toward the Coast Guard boat. “And to bless those who protect our nation and its citizens. I’m honored to be here today,” Thomas intoned, “representing the United States Coast Guard.” Thomas’s cap visor gleamed in the sunlight. “My prayer for each of you is for fair winds...”
“And following seas,” the crowd finished.
Braeden squared his shoulders.
A devout man, this OIC. Reminded Braeden of his father. And Master Chief Davis.
Braeden fidgeted. His arm brushed against Amelia’s shoulder and his heartbeat accelerated. Unsettled, he shoved his hands into his pockets.
He needed to put a cork in his unexpected attraction to the strawberry blonde. After all, he didn’t do relationships. And this woman came loaded with complications.
A fortysomething man—“Reverend Parks,” Amelia whispered—ambled to the podium. His voice boomed across the water.
“They’re praying,” Max whispered in a volume only slightly softer than a foghorn. “Everybody, bow your head.”
Braeden darted his eyes at Amelia. His lips twitched. She covered her mouth with her hand before lowering her lashes.
“We pray, O Lord, for every seafarer. Grant them Your strength and protection. Keep each safe as they face the perils of the sea.”
For the first time in a long while, Braeden closed his eyes in prayer.
The reverend continued, “God of unfathomable love, as boundless as the deep Your spirit hovered over at the dawn of time, hear our prayer. Protect them from the dangers of the wind and the rain. Bring each soul safely home to the true harbor of Your peace. And may the saving power of our Lord guide and protect them, for Christ’s sake. Amen.”
“Amen,” murmured Amelia, her hands clasped.
“Amen,” extolled the Kiptohanock residents.
Blond, gray, brunette—Braeden sighed—and redheads bowed in prayer together.
Safe harbor? Was there such a thing? Here in Kiptohanock?
“Amen,” he whispered.
His first prayer since his father’s sudden death. Braeden pondered what, exactly, God had in store for him in this tiny village on the shores of the Atlantic.
The ceremony ended with the tolling of the old ship’s bell mounted on the edge of the wharf. The bell rang out over the water across the assorted vessels in the harbor. One toll for each Kiptohanock waterman lost at sea.
Amelia shuddered.
Too many lost over the years. Friends of her dad’s, former schoolmates. Sons, brothers, fathers, grandpas. As the sounds floated skyward beyond the white-steepled church, she positioned herself to avoid facing sweet Pauline Crockett. Amelia dug her nails into the palms of her hands, remembering their shared loss.
Braeden gave her a sharp look. “Your family makes its living from the water, too?”
“Dad taught us to respect it. To never turn our backs on it or take it for granted. He equipped us to fight for survival when pitted against it when we must. To be prepared for its changing face.”
Amelia gestured toward the vessels anchored in the marina. “But every year the fleet grows smaller and the living gets harder to wrest from its depths. The crabs are overfished. The oysters infected.”
She made a face. “And don’t get the watermen started on the government regulations. In today’s world, a true waterman must diversify. So I run the charter fishing trips since Dad got sick. He does part-time work for the boat repair shop.”
Braeden quirked an eyebrow. “And Honey runs her B and B.”
Her lips curled a fraction. “I suppose when you put it that way...” She patted Max’s knee, perched atop Braeden’s shoulders.
Broad shoulders. Able to carry heavy loads.
She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. “Look, Max. The chief’s tossing the memorial wreath into the harbor.”
Max nodded.