Moondance Beach

  “I’d love to, but I’m a sweaty mess,” he said, gesturing to the T-shirt stuck to his torso.

  Rowan curled her upper lip. “You sure are. Grab a shower and come right back down.”

  And now, not only had Duncan helped assemble a lifetime’s worth of tiramisu, but he had been elected chief pacifier rinser and conscripted to play the role of an evil pirate captain in Christina’s latest melodrama. The story was about a mermaid bent on saving the world from a one-eyed pirate named “Stinky Joe.”

  “I’m not stinky. I’ve got two eyes. And my name is not Joe.”

  Christina marched over to where Duncan sat with Serena and explained the what-what to him. “Uncle Duncle, this is my play. I am the star. See? I am wearing a tiara, for gracious’ sake!” Christina grabbed the crown as it began to slip from her head. “So if I say you are Stinky Joe the evil pirate, then you are.” She exhaled deeply, as if she couldn’t believe what a diva Duncan was being. “Now it’s time for you to attack, so make it scary.”

  “I’m scared—of her,” Ash whispered from the sink.

  “We sleep with the lights on,” Clancy mumbled.

  So from his seat at the table, he waved around a plastic sword as Christina jumped and twirled and carried on. Duncan checked on Serena. She sat in his lap, staring at him with her piercing gaze, chawing away on her binky like there was no tomorrow. The fact that she still reminded him of a cigar-chomping Marine Corps master sergeant he once knew made him slightly uncomfortable.

  “If you’re going tonight, we could really use some help with cleanup.”

  Duncan pretended his sister’s announcement had been directed elsewhere.

  “Come on, Duncan.” Clearly, Rowan wasn’t fooled by his silence. “Everybody’s doing something, and you’re here, right? So you might as well pitch in.”

  Duncan cleared his throat. “I’ve already made desserts. I’ve been an evil pirate. And anyway, I’m helping you tonight, aren’t I, Clancy?”

  His brother popped a carrot in his mouth and shrugged. “I don’t know. You put in a lot of hours at Island Day yesterday. I heard you provided some excellent crowd control.”

  “Yeah.” Duncan stood up. “Christina, I need to take a quick break. I’ll be right back, okay, sweetie?”

  “What?”

  “I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

  Duncan looked for someone he could hand the baby to, but everyone was busy. Ash was up to his elbows in carrot-cake batter. Nat was washing dishes. Annie and Rowan were taking stuff out of the oven. And Evie was running the mixer. Mellie was barking orders and keeping everyone in line.

  The only other person with a free hand was Clancy. Duncan looked at him and tipped his head toward the back door. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure.” Clancy smiled at Evie and checked on Christina, who had already returned to her performance blissfully unaware that her dad was taking his leave. “Let’s go while the going is good,” Clancy said.

  “Do you want the baby carrier?” Rowan called out. “It’s hanging on a hook in the mudroom. Grab her sun hat as well!”

  On the way out, Clancy snatched the pale yellow contraption and a white bonnet with a string. “Ever used one of these?”

  “A baby hat?”

  Clancy roared with laughter. “No, man. A baby carrier.”

  Duncan shook his head. Looking at it, he had a hard time believing something designed for his little sister would fit him.

  “Ah, c’mon. Let’s give it a try. Yellow is so your color.”

  Clancy pulled a strap up over Duncan’s left arm and loosened it to its maximum length. He did the same with the opposite arm, then pulled on the seat to make sure it was secure. “Hand her to me. I’ll buckle her back here while you snap up in front.”

  When all was said and done, Duncan was trussed up like a roasting chicken, but baby Serena seemed happy, her little legs kicking at him as they walked.

  Duncan turned to Clancy, alarmed. “Where’s the hat?”

  “I already put it on her.”

  Duncan rolled his eyes in relief. “Thank God, because I don’t even want to think what would happen to my ass if Serena got sunburned.”

  “Yeah. That’s best left as an unknown.”

  They ended up wandering along the side yard, heading out toward the carriage house and into the cedars beyond. Which was fine by Duncan, since the beach was crowded and the B and B’s front lawn had become the setting for a cutthroat croquet tournament. He needed some privacy.

  “I got a problem,” Duncan said. He figured he should cut to it, since he knew Clancy was on break and had to get back to work.

  “Let me guess. Your problem is about five foot two, with dark hair and dark eyes, her naked flesh dripping water as she comes out of the surf—”

  “This is serious.”

  Clancy’s eyebrow arched high. “Okay. No problem. So what’s going on?”

  Duncan sighed. He really had no one else to confide in but his brother. These last couple months had reminded him that Clancy was an honorable cop and a first-rate family man, and he hadn’t given Duncan a single reason to doubt him. But the truth was, Duncan had never relied on Clancy to be the protector of his secrets. He’d never bounced real troubles off of him.

  “Hey, man, whatever it is, I’ll keep it to myself. It won’t go any further. Is it something that happened at Little Creek?”

  Duncan glanced over at his younger brother. What people said was true. They really did look alike. They had the same face shape, the same dark hair and blue eyes, though Clancy’s were lighter in color—and in temperament.

  “Please don’t tell anyone, but I’m getting a Purple Heart. The ceremony is in mid-October, probably soon after I get cleared from medical.”

  Clancy’s eyes went huge. “Oh, wow. Man, that’s awesome. Really. What an honor.”

  Duncan shook his head. “I’m not sure I want anybody to go. I don’t want kudos for being the only man from my insertion team who’s still alive.”

  Clancy’s eyes popped wide. “I can’t imagine how hard it is to carry around that much guilt, but you’re getting the medal for a reason, man. Don’t dismiss it. What you did to try to save your friends was exceptional. It was an act of bravery.”

  They walked quietly for several minutes, the wind rustling through the cedars. Serena was happily kicking and patting Duncan’s neck with her sticky hands.

  “And,” Duncan added, “you’re right—I also have a problem with Lena.”

  Clancy tilted his head. “Really, now.”

  “Yeah. Look, she’s a very interesting woman—hard worker, smart, funny, beautiful—and I know she was always nice to me when we were kids. But I’m learning that . . . well . . .”

  “She’s the one giving you all those gifts?”

  Duncan laughed. “Rowan told you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Yes, there’s that, but I got over the weirdness of that once I spent some time with her. She really means well. The problem is, well, there’s an old spark or something between us, and yesterday I asked her to go to the clambake with me.”

  Clancy stopped walking, nearly tripping on an exposed pine tree root. “Okay. Sure. Whoa.”

  “She showed me around her house. You ever seen that place?”

  Clancy shook his head. “Just from the outside. It’s pretty wicked, huh?”

  Duncan blew out air. “She’s got this art studio that’s . . . I don’t even know how to do it justice. It feels as big as an aircraft carrier. It’s her world, you know? And she showed it to me.”

  “Something happened?”

  Duncan laughed. “Maybe I’m making too much of this. That’s why I wanted to ask you what you thought. But we’re in there for a while and having a great conversation. Then out of the blue, she gets nervous on me and tries to shoo me out. Just as I’m heading to the door, I see a drawing on the wall and I . . . Jesus. This is just so weird.”

  “What? C’
mon! You’re killing me, man.”

  “It’s a drawing of Lena that I did when I was fourteen. You know, a couple years after I’d grown out of all the bronchitis and asthma and I really thought I was the shit.”

  “I vaguely remember a time like that.” Clancy laughed. “But I didn’t know you liked to draw.”

  “I don’t. I didn’t. But that one afternoon, Lena and I were hanging out on the side porch and I drew a picture of her. I crumpled it up because I thought it sucked, but she grabbed it and started telling me it was good. And then something happened between us. Honestly, I had forgotten all about it until I saw that drawing in her studio.”

  Clancy frowned. “Go on.”

  “I kissed her that day. I was fourteen and she was eleven and, looking back, the kiss was way too intense for kids that age. Don’t get me wrong. We didn’t take it any further, but the kiss itself was kind of, I don’t know, powerful, I guess. So it turns out that after all these years, Lena’s still got the drawing I did just before I kissed her.”

  “Hmm.”

  “It’s professionally framed, very nicely matted and everything like it’s a freakin’ Picasso or something, and there’s my signature, big as day. It’s right there hanging in her studio, twenty years later.”

  “Did you ask her about it?”

  “Yeah.” Duncan pinched the bridge of his nose. “She got mad because I didn’t remember that day. And I was . . . Man, there was something about the whole situation that didn’t sit right with me. It made me feel trapped.”

  “Oh.”

  “She told me if I didn’t remember the day, then I wouldn’t understand why she kept it. And I left.”

  Clancy looked confused. “But now you do remember?”

  Duncan remained quiet for a moment. “I walked home from the North Shore, thinking. I realize now that I intentionally pushed that memory aside. I didn’t want to remember Lena or that kiss. It was more than I could deal with when I was fourteen.”

  Serena had started to fuss. Duncan asked, “Did her pacifier fall out?”

  Clancy peeked over the edge of the backpack. “Yeah. Hold up. It’s stuck between the strap and your shirt. Okay—we’re locked and loaded again.”

  Duncan didn’t know what else to say. It bothered him—the whole thing bothered him. That he’d shoved the memory away. That he’d had some kind of connection with Lena that he’d forgotten all about. That such a powerful kiss happened when they were kids, and it was followed twenty years later by that kiss in the Safe Haven kitchen. It made his head spin.

  “Look, Duncan. Two people can have the same experience and remember it in completely different ways—it’s normal. That’s why eyewitness testimony is so unpredictable in criminal cases. What I’m saying is, that day obviously meant a lot to Lena, and she wanted to remember it.”

  Duncan nodded in agreement.

  “I think the real question is—why does that bother you? Are you worried she’s a little obsessed with you? Is that what you’re asking me?”

  Duncan shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m asking. All I know is I have absolutely no business blowing on whatever spark is still there between us. I’m outa here, Clancy. I’m not staying. And though Lena is great, she’s not my great—you know what I mean? I don’t have room for something like that in my life.”

  Clancy gave him a sideways glance.

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, man.”

  “Just say it.”

  Clancy shoved his hands in the pockets of his police shorts. “You’ve always had it figured out. At twelve you set a course and you’ve never looked back. I’ve watched it happen—you wouldn’t let anybody or anything get in your way, and you sure as hell didn’t have time for any scenic detours.”

  Duncan jolted. “Scenic detours? I’ve had plenty of nice-looking women in my life, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I’m not talking about women. I’m talking about a woman or your own damn family. The only reason we’ve had a chance to even . . .” Clancy caught himself. He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  Duncan couldn’t believe it, but his brother actually looked like he could cry. “Go on.”

  “All right.” Clancy focused on Duncan. “The only reason you got to meet Serena here”—he pulled on the baby’s foot—“or play ‘Stinky Joe’ with my little girl is because you got seriously hurt. If you hadn’t been hurt, we wouldn’t have had this time with you. And . . . that would have been a damn shame.” Clancy clamped his jaw tight. “I never fucking thought I’d say this to you, Duncan, but I’ve missed your ass.”

  Duncan felt his body freeze up. This was so unexpected. It was downright surreal. “I’m going back to active duty.” He heard the flatness in his own voice.

  Clancy laughed. “Oh, we know. It’s what you were meant to do. We get it.”

  Duncan shook his head and tried to find the words. “I owe it to my friends, man. I owe it to my best friend, Justin. They’re all dead, and the only way I can make any sense of it is to serve in honor of them.”

  “You sure about that? Haven’t you already done your part? The Purple Heart might indicate the Navy thinks you have.”

  Duncan tipped his head. “Say what?”

  “Listen, all I’m asking is this: who exactly do you go out there and risk your life for, Duncan?”

  That was obvious, but Duncan humored his brother. “My fallen friends. My fellow SEALs. My country. The way of life I hold dear. The people I love.”

  Clancy gave him a crooked smile. “Who exactly do you hold dear, brother? Who do you love? Because to be honest, I’ve never seen you do much holding and loving. What I’ve seen is a lifetime of pushing away.”

  * * *

  He was a little early, but Duncan figured he and Lena needed to iron out a few things before they spent an entire evening together. Lena had surely been thinking this thing to death as much as Duncan had. His plan was to ask her just one question: can we figure this out together? And if she said yes, they’d go from there.

  Duncan clutched the flowers and rang the doorbell. Nothing.

  He rang it again.

  Nothing.

  Duncan went around to the garage and jumped high enough to see through the windows. Her SUV was parked inside.

  This is bullshit, he thought. It wasn’t right to pretend not to be home. She hadn’t answered his calls or texts, either.

  He rang the bell again and thought he heard music. Maybe she wasn’t hiding—maybe she just hadn’t heard him at the door.

  He turned the doorknob and the door opened wide with barely a touch. Instantly, he got hit with a full-frontal blast of rock ’n’ roll surging down the stairs. He recognized the tune.

  “Lena?”

  First he looked toward the kitchen and great room. Then he craned his neck to look down the guest wing. Maybe the size of the house was the problem—the girl needed an intercom system or at least a set of walkies.

  “Lena? Hey, Lena; it’s Duncan!” He waited. “Hello?”

  Since he’d already entered her home without an invitation, how much worse would it be if he headed upstairs? He repeated her name three times on his way up, and still no answer. At this point, he was starting to worry that something might be wrong.

  He got the lay of the land as soon as he reached the second floor. He smelled the oil paint. The music thumped out of her studio. Exhaust fans whirred and light spilled out into the hallway. She was painting.

  “Hey, Lena?”

  Duncan turned toward her studio and froze. He might have even stopped breathing. What he saw baffled him, fascinated him, and turned him on—immediately. He knew he had no right to watch this. He should turn right around and leave. He was invading her privacy more than she had ever invaded his. He’d been asleep when she brought him gifts. Duncan had just walked in on Lena while she was in the middle of deeply personal creative work.

  Yet he couldn’t walk away.

  Lena sang along to the lyrics, h
er movements like a sad and slow dance. There she was, barefoot and damn near naked, pouring her heart out as she sang, swayed, and painted.

  Duncan blinked a few times, just to ensure that this wasn’t another dream. He was watching a wild creature lost in a raw artistic process—a private process. Lena reached and swayed and sang while slashing paint at the dark canvas. Everything in the room was in movement—her body, her brush, her voice, her hair, even the painting itself, with its moody swirls and strange shapes.

  She wore nothing but a thong and a skintight camisole top that she’d knotted under her breasts. There were great swaths of black, red, and blue paint all over her forearms and striped around the back of her perfect hips. Duncan sensed the flowers slip from his fingers and hit the floor. He couldn’t stop staring, but he was aware that he couldn’t remain there like a Peeping Tom, either.

  Duncan leaned down to retrieve the flowers and slipped into the studio. He reached into the office area and killed the volume.

  Lena spun around with a cry, moving so fast and wildly that she nearly lost her balance. Her eyes were startled but fierce, ready to fight whoever had just invaded her sacred space.

  “I’m sorry.” Duncan took a step toward her.

  “What the hell?” Lena breathed so hard her paint-smeared belly pushed in and out. It was completely wrong of him, but Duncan’s eyes swept down to the thong.

  There wasn’t a whole lot more in the front than there was in the back.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” That’s when Duncan noticed her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying. “You have no right to just walk in on someone like that!”

  “I called your name. You didn’t hear me—”

  “You’re damn right I didn’t hear you! I was working!”

  “I’m here to pick you up for the clambake, Lena.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “What?”

  “We have a date.”

  Lena tossed her paintbrush and palette to the worktable and put her paint-covered hands on her hips. “A date? Funny, but you left me with the distinct impression that our date was off.”

  Duncan heard himself moan. This was so not in his wheelhouse. “Did you check your voice mail today? Your texts?”