The Abalone Shell Page 3

  “I don’t think in all that talk at dinner I heard what you do for a living,” he said.

  “I’m a writer.”

  He glanced at her, tugging the dishtowel from her shoulder to dry the dishes. He didn’t know where they all went, so he figured he could dry them and let her put them away. “It’s pretty rare to make enough to live off, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “It can be. And sometimes it’s as much luck as hard work, but with self-publishing, writers have a bit more control over their destinies.”

  “Do you self-publish?”

  “Some. I’m what they call a hybrid author. I started with a traditional publisher, and I still have a couple series with them, but the rest I self-publish. It wasn’t until I took the indie path that I started making enough to pay all the bills, and it’s been an amazing journey. I like having control over my career.”

  “What do you write?”

  “Romance.” She snorted. “With the divorce, I feel like a bit of a fraud. Silly, I know, but it’s made writing a bit difficult.”

  “It may be silly,” he replied, handing her the last plate, “but it makes sense given the genre you write. Is that why you came back to Sea Glass Cove?”

  Again, she nodded. “I needed to get away from all the memories for a while. Recharge. And I haven’t been out since before Daph was born.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “We live in Montana, so getting out here isn’t easy, and my brother or cousin were usually hogging it on the few occasions we might’ve had a chance to come out.”

  “I bet Daphne was disappointed.”

  “Oh boy. She’s been begging me to bring her out for a long time… so, I figured this summer was a perfect time to do it. Poor kid’s never seen the ocean. And she still hasn’t been down to the beach.”

  “We’ll have to rectify that tomorrow.”

  “That’s the plan… and since you mentioned it first—” She laughed, and he soaked it up. It was such a warm, rich sound. “—it’d be fun if you joined us.”

  Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t say no to her. “I’d love to.”

  After the dishes were stowed, and she’d wiped down the table, counters, and stove, she turned to him. “What about you? What brought you to Sea Glass Cove?”

  “My parents’ divorce. I was ten. Erin was six. Mom found this cute little run-down restaurant and decided that would be her life’s purpose from that point on.”

  “That was the Salty Dog?”

  “Yep. The rest, as they say, is history. She’s done well with it.”

  “I can see why. Lunch was delicious.” Hope lowered her gaze, chewing on her bottom lip. “Was it hard on you? The divorce?”

  “It took some adjusting, sure. But honestly, it was the best thing that could’ve happened. For all of us.” He narrowed his eyes and studied her expression. Guilt etched lines into her face, and he wished he could tell her everything would be all right and that she and her daughter would adjust like he and his sister and mother had, that the divorce might be for the best. But he didn’t know why she’d left her husband, so all he could do was offer her an explanation of his situation and let her decide if it was helpful or not. “My father was an alcoholic, and he liked to push my mother around.”

  “Do you have any contact with him?”

  “Nope. Haven’t talked to him since the court granted Mom full custody. The night she left him, he knocked her down, and I hauled off and punched him. Broke his nose, blackened both eyes. I think that scared her more than anything—that I might become like him.”

  Hope tilted her head and scrutinized him with narrowed eyes just like he’d done with her a moment ago, peering deep into his soul with that intent gaze. “I don’t think you have that kind of meanness in you. You’re too kind to kids.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but even the kindest hearts can be twisted and tortured into breaking.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Anyhow, I’m grateful Mom was strong enough not only to get out but to raise us on her own. I don’t like to think how we might’ve turned out if she’d stayed.”

  “She never remarried?”

  “No. Didn’t really date much until Erin and I were both grown. She’s got a beau now who adores her, and she feels the same about him.”

  A tender smile softened her face. “I’d love to meet her. She seems like my kind of woman.”

  Recalling his conversation with his sister, he was certain his mother would love to meet Hope, too, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for the incessant pestering that was sure to follow. Maybe this technically wasn’t a date, but it was the closest thing he’d had to one since Sam’s death. “I think you and she would get along great. A little too great, I think, once she finds out I had dinner at your place tonight.”

  “Wait.” Disbelief splashed across her pretty face. “You can’t tell me…. You haven’t been on a date since your wife…?”

  “Not a single one.” He held his left hand out in front of him. “I only took my ring off a few weeks ago.”

  Her eyes rounded.

  “Guess that means there’s something special about you and your little girl,” he said lightly. He meant it, but he was beginning to feel a little raw and he didn’t want old heartaches to darken what had been a refreshingly pleasant evening, so he changed the subject. “So, how about those candles?”

  Taking the hint, Hope joined her daughter in the dining room and helped her unpack the candle holders and lanterns. Owen stepped in to help, his nose tingling with the musty scent emanating from the boxes. It reminded him of those first weeks after he and Sam had bought their house—it had taken a while longer to clear out the stink because they’d moved in in the middle of winter and opening the windows hadn’t been an option.

  “I keep thinking it’s strange we’ve never met,” he remarked, “but I guess you haven’t been out since Sam and I bought our house. We’ve only had it seven years.”

  “And it’s been over eight since I’ve been out. You might’ve met my brother Christian or our cousin Gideon.”

  “I have met them. Gideon’s little boy Liam made quite an impression around here.”

  She smiled fondly. “He’s an adorable little devil.”

  “Yes, he is. He and Sean went down to Hidden Beach by themselves. Scared us half to death.”

  “Oh, Gideon told me about that! He was furious!” She laughed. Wagging a finger at her daughter, she said, “Don’t you dare even think about going to the beach without me, young lady.”

  “I won’t, Mom,” Daphne replied. “So… what are we going to do with these?”

  “Well, these ones here we’re going to set in the windows.” She held up an aqua mosaic votive cup. “The lanterns we’re going to take outside and set all around the front deck on the railing, and then, when the sun goes down, we’re going to light them all.”

  “Oh!” Daphne’s face lit up brighter than a thousand candles. “That’ll be so pretty!”

  “I know,” Hope said. “And there are a lot to put out, so let’s get to it.”

  Owen grabbed a dozen of the votive holders and carried them for Hope. Daphne followed along behind them, setting candles in the holders as her mother set them out. He remembered Gideon saying something about the tradition but he couldn’t recall exactly how the man had phrased it, so he asked Hope.

  “Grampy started it the night my dad was born. A storm had knocked out the power, so he lit every candle and lantern in the house. He joked that this cottage glowed as bright as the lighthouse that night. Now, whenever a St. Cloud comes home to the cottage, we light the candles so—as he said it—Sea Glass Cove will have a second light house for a night.”

  Owen hadn’t ever seen it, and while there was no way a few dozen candles could come close to the powerful beam of the Stalwart Island Lighthouse, he imagined it would be a breathtaking sight nonetheless.

  “It’s a wonderful tradition,” he said.

  She beamed at him like he’d made the perf
ect response. “I’ve always loved it. Dan thought it was dorky, and so does Christian’s wife, so he doesn’t do it anymore.”

  “I take it you don’t like her much.”

  “She’s all right, I guess.” Hope snorted. “Okay, no, I don’t particularly like her.”

  “She’s a snob,” Daphne remarked.

  “Daph!” Hope covered her face, trying hard not to laugh. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

  “But it’s true!”

  “Maybe so, but sometimes we need to keep true things to ourselves when they might hurt someone else. Right?”

  Daphne nodded, too excited about their task to be bothered by the scolding. Owen chuckled.

  “You’ve got a wonderful little girl, Hope.”

  “She’s pretty special. I think I’ll keep her,” she said with amusement still thick in her voice. “Okay, at the risk of sounding like a country song, I don’t know your last name.”

  “McKinney,” he replied with a chuckle. He glanced at Daphne and smiled. “Maybe it’s not as cool as St. Cloud, but I adore the woman who gave it to me.”

  “The woman? McKinney is your mother’s name?”

  He nodded. “She legally changed our last name to her maiden name after the divorce. Said she didn’t want us to have anything linking us to that man.”

  “What was it before the divorce?”

  “King.”

  “Mmm, yeah. McKinney’s better. More unique.”

  “I agree.” He set his last candle in the final empty holder and glanced back at the others. “I think that’s all of them, and the sun’s nearly down now. Can we start lighting them?”

  All that remained of the sun was a sliver of burning orange wavering above the ocean, and it painted the sea stacks and rocky points and islands and beaches and the dark forests inland with a dim ruddy light.

  “You take the left, I’ll take the right?” Hope asked.

  She held up a pair of lighters he hadn’t seen her grab. He took the one she held out to him and started from the left side of the deck steps, lighting candles as he went. With two of them, it didn’t take long to light the three dozen candles and lanterns, but even so, the sun was long gone by the time they finished. They left the lighters on the dining room table, and joined Daphne on the deck to admire their handiwork.

  It was magical. Corny though the term might be, it was the only one that adequately described the flames dancing all around them on the soft sea breeze and the wisps of crimson cirrus clouds above alight with the last rays of the sunken sun.

  “Wow,” Daphne breathed.

  “Wow is right,” Owen said, echoing her wonderment. “How could anyone think this was dorky? It’s stunning. Sam and Sean would’ve loved it.”

  “All right, that’s the second time you’ve mentioned this Sean,” Hope said, turning to face him. “Who is he, and why do you say he would’ve loved it?”

  Owen sighed, mourning the loss of that fleeting moment of pure amazement. There was no salvaging it now, not with the old ache returning to his chest, wrapping tightly around his heart. So he didn’t disturb Daphne’s enjoyment, he spoke quietly. “He was my son. And he was in the car with my wife when it went over the cliff.”

  Five

  By noon the next day, Hope hadn’t yet recovered from her shock. She could not fathom the pain of losing her child, but her imagination had woken her in the middle of the night with a terrifying dream about her daughter and ex-husband crashing through the guardrail and plunging over the edge of a coastal cliff into darkness. After that, she’d spent much of the night alternately lying awake and standing in the door of her daughter’s room.

  She hadn’t known what to say to Owen after that revelation, and he hadn’t offered any details other than to say his little boy had been only four and loved the beach. She had no idea how she was going to face him today, and her time for figuring that out was dwindling to seconds. He was due to arrive any moment.

  His name coming from her daughter caught her attention, and she glanced sharply at Daphne. The girl was on the phone with her father. She’d tried to call him last night after the last candles had burned or blown out, but he hadn’t answered. And of course he’d called back just minutes before Owen was supposed to show up. Typical. He had an uncanny ability to sense things that made her happy and a penchant for disrupting them. She listened to her daughter detail their evening last night and wondered how her ex was taking it. Daphne’s side of the conversation didn’t reveal much of his reaction; she was too busy doing all the talking. And to hear her tell it, Owen was amazing. From what he’d shown them so far, Hope was inclined to agree. Dan wasn’t likely to appreciate that.

  A knock sounded on the French doors, and despite the persisting shock over Owen’s announcement and her daughter mentioning him to her father, Hope smiled and trotted to answer it.

  Owen stood on the deck and the same canvas sack he’d had yesterday was slung over his shoulder, but this time it bulged with the unmistakable shapes of buckets and tiny plastic shovels. Her smile widened into a grin. Sand castles. She hadn’t even thought about making them with Daphne today on the beach.

  “Hi,” she said breathlessly.

  “Hi to you, too,” he replied.

  Suddenly, her worry over how she would face him seemed ridiculous. The knowledge that he had lost not only his wife but his son too changed nothing. He was still the same fascinating man who’d captured her attention so firmly from their first meeting. The only difference was that she now knew the exact reason for the sadness that often shadowed his eyes.

  “Come on in,” she added, stepping back to give him room to enter. “We’re going to be a few more minutes. Daph’s on the phone with her dad.”

  “Ah. I can wait outside.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to make things awkward for you.”

  “Believe me, if anyone is going to make things awkward, it will be Dan.”

  “Mom!” Daphne called, almost on cue. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

  Of course he does. Hope joined her daughter in the living room and took her cell phone back from her daughter. “Hi.”

  “Thanks for making Daph call me last night.”

  “I didn’t make her. She loves you, Dan.”

  “And I love her. I’m sorry I missed her call, but I worked late, and when I got home it was too late to call her back.”

  She almost asked him if he was still at the same job, but she stopped herself just in time. She wasn’t supposed to care anymore. “It’s all right.”

  “Sounds like she’s loving it out there.”

  “It’s a special place.”

  Dan hesitated, and she knew exactly what he was going to ask before the words came out of his mouth.

  “Who’s Owen?”

  “Our neighbor. Well, he lives a house over, but close enough.”

  “And you invited him to dinner even though you just met him?”

  Bristling, she said, “He’s a friend of Gideon’s.” It was a stretch, but since their boys had played together a few years back—probably only weeks or days before Owen’s son had died—that was close enough to the truth, too. Before Dan could quiz her on something that really wasn’t any of his business, she said, “I don’t mean to be short, but the tide’s on its way out, and Daph and I are heading down to the beach.”

  “Just you and Daph?”

  Her brows furrowed, but when she glanced at her companion, her lips curved. Screw it. “Owen might join us, too.”

  She expected him to question her judgment again, but he didn’t.

  “I thought I might try to make it out there in a month or so to visit my daughter.”

  “She’d love that.”

  “Would it be… too difficult if I stayed with you? I’d sleep on the couch or on the floor in the living room.”

  Where else did he think he would sleep? In bed with her? Never again. Hope pressed her lips together and pinched her eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Dan
, but yes, it would be too difficult, and really, you’ll want to have her all to yourself without me hovering around.”

  Silence met her from the other end of the line, and five then ten then fifteen seconds ticked by. Had the call been dropped? Or had he hung up?

  Then he spoke again.

  “I miss you.”

  “Dan….” She opened her eyes and sought Owen. He was currently showing Daphne the contents of his sack, and the delight on both their faces made it easier to tell her ex-husband what she needed to. “I will always care for you—deeply—but I can’t let you drag me down anymore. I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve made it work. I do.”

  Dan sighed. “I wish I wasn’t so screwed up.”

  “For your sake, I do, too. I have to go. Please let me know when you want to come out so I can make reservations for you at one of the inns in town.”

  “I will. Tell Daph I love her.”

  “I will,” Hope said before he could add that he loved her, too. Part of his continuing professions of love and respect for her were manipulation, but she was certain he did love her. And if she was going to hold to her decision to save herself from being dragged under with him, she had to remember that love wasn’t enough to overcome what had driven her to walk away.

  She ended the call and stood in the living room for almost two minutes while she regained her composure. When she sauntered into the dining room, she was able to greet Owen and Daphne with genuine excitement.

  “Daddy asked me to remind you he loves you,” she told her daughter.

  “Is he really gonna come out to visit me?”

  “I guess we’ll see. You ready to dip your toes in the sand, baby girl?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

  They headed out to her SUV, and without being asked, Daphne grabbed her booster seat out of the front seat and moved it to the back so Owen, with those long legs, could ride shotgun down to the northern beach access. Owen leaned back to help her untangle the seatbelt, and Hope marveled at the difference between him and her ex despite her promises not to compare them. Dan would’ve waited for her to help Daphne or told the girl she needed to figure it out herself. Many a time, such incidences had ended in Daphne crying and Hope angry with Dan for his inaction.