Dory Cove
Christina F. York
Published by Tsunami Ridge Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Christina F. York
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Dory Cove
Christina F. York
Contents
Chapter 1
Penny Martin's feet hurt as she threaded her way through the last-call crowd. The tray of empties chafed against her shoulder, and the smell of stale beer mixed with the odor of the cooling oil in the deep fryers.
Her mind was already on tomorrow's exam, and she narrowly avoided a collision with a group of fishermen stumbling their way to the door. They smelled of salt air and fish and cigarette smoke, even in their street clothes.
She preferred the stale beer.
By the time one of them managed to make a slurred apology, she was through the swinging doors and into the kitchen. The bright fluorescents reflecting off stark white fixtures and stainless steel countertops were almost unbearable after the dim light of the tavern.
"You're in kind of a hurry there," Mabel said. "Lose a tray that size, and you'd end up owing us money for tonight."
Penny bit back a retort and concentrated on setting the tray gently on the stainless steel counter. Mabel was the owner's wife, and it wouldn't do to antagonize her. At least, not any more than she already had.
Mabel had made it clear from Penny's first day that she didn't like tiny brunettes hanging around, even if they were employees.
There were few jobs for women in Dory Cove, however. Most of them involved wet diapers and a husband who, if he survived, came home smelling like the men who had just left the tavern. So Penny gritted her teeth, pocketed her tips, and studied like mad on her days off.
She deftly stacked the mugs and schooners, with crusts of beer foam dried in the bottoms, into the dishwasher tray, then replaced the bus tray in the slot near the swinging doors. All the while, she was aware of Mabel's appraising blue eyes, watching her.
"Davey was in earlier. Asked about you."
Penny just shrugged. Davey was easy to look at, and he was smart enough. Even more unusual, he was a single man in a small town full of couples. But he was a fisherman, and Penny had established a hard and fast rule about dating fishermen.
That rule was "Never."
"Said he had seen you around town," Mabel continued, her words a knife in Penny’s heart. "I told him you were only here for the summer, and didn’t have time for your old high school friends."
The knife twisted a little more, and Penny bit back the urge to snap at Mabel. She was only back for the summer, her hard-won business degree temporarily hanging on the guest room wall at her mom and dad’s house. She would start graduate school in the fall, and free rent for the summer let her bank every cent she made.
She wasn't here to reminisce; she was here to work and save. There was no time, and no reason, to revive old friendships.
And she and Davey Grant had been more than friends, a lot more. Mabel knew it. Hell, everybody in town knew it. But Penny vowed she would never be a fisherman's wife, and Davey wouldn't, or couldn't, give up the sea.
For a while, in high school, they had been able to pretend that it didn't matter, that they could get around the impasse. But after graduation, when he spent every day on the water, they couldn't pretend any longer.
"Did you hear he put a down payment on the old Cutter place?" Mabel followed Penny out of the kitchen, unwilling to let her victim escape. "He'll make some lucky girl a fine husband. That boy's a hard worker, and now he's got himself a house of his own. He'll be quite a catch, if you ask me."
"She didn't ask you, Mabel." Ross's voice was soft, so soft only Penny and Mabel could hear him, as the last couple customers slipped on their jackets and headed out into the cool night.
Penny shot him a grateful look, and hurried away to let him deal with Mabel. She hated being the bone they fought over, but she also knew they would just find some other subject if she weren't there. Ross and Mabel had been squabbling with each other for as long as she could remember, and years before that, according to Penny's parents.
"Ross has a roving eye," her mom told her when she landed the job at Red's Tavern. "But he's harmless. Sorta like a dog chasing a car. Wouldn't know what to do if he caught one. But Mabel likes to believe he's irresistible to the girls, and she guards him like he's the crown jewels."
Penny had hesitated. "Maybe I should just stay out of it. Work somewhere else."
Her dad had laughed. "In Dory Cove? Where? No, if you really want to save for school, Red's is probably the best place for you. The tips are extra good in the summer, I hear. Just steer clear of Mabel and her meddling, and you'll be fine."
So Penny stayed out of Mabel's way as much as she could, and kept quiet when she couldn't. There was a fine line between avoiding trouble and ignoring Mabel, but she managed to stay on the right side of the line most of the time.
It was harder to ignore the marine radio that was mounted over the bar. Especially when it came to life with a distress call. Then everyone in the place would stop and listen. Everyone but Penny.
She hadn't been near a boat since she was a little girl; not since "Uncle" Bob, her father's best friend, had been lost at sea.
She remembered her father leaving for the docks, her mother running to Bob's house with nine-year-old Penny at her heels. She had watched her mother try to comfort Betty, had seen the lost look on the face of her friend Sandy, Bob and Betty’s daughter.
From that moment, she knew what a distress call really meant. It meant a wife left alone, children whose father never came home. It meant loss, and pain, and grief.
She had refused to go near a boat after that.
Now, as she bussed the last tables, the radio was quiet and she could hear the murmur of Ross and Mabel talking behind the bar. She glanced their way in time to see Ross put his arm around Mabel's ample waist, and pull her close to him. She rested her head on his chest, and he kissed her hair.
Penny sighed. Funny how those two fought and badgered each other constantly, but it was also clear that they loved each other. She hoped she could find someone to love like that, except without the fighting. Mabel and Ross might be happy that way, but she'd had enough of that with Davey. She never wanted to fight with someone she loved again.
She shook her head and hefted the last tray of dirty glasses. She didn't need to think about Davey. It was a closed chapter in her life; he was a closed chapter. After this summer she would head back to the University for her MBA, and she could kiss Dory Cove good-bye for good.
And Davey. Not that she wanted to kiss Davey, good-bye or anything else. She just wanted not to have to see him again.
* * *
When Penny opened the back door of Red's, she could see her battered Honda sitting under the light pole at the back of the gravel parking lot. It wasn't much, with its dented fender and occasional spots of rust attesting to the effects of salt air, but it was hers and it was paid for.
She patted the pocket of her jeans, feeling the heft of tonight's tips. She had counted them before she left the bar, and smiled as she mentally added the sixty-six dollars and fifteen cents to the balance in her savings account.
It was another reason she put up with Mabel. Red's was popular with both the locals and the tourists, so tips were good year-round.
By careful planning, Penny had built up an impressive savings account. She could afford a better car, but she had learned the value of money, and she had other plans for hers. She would need all of it, and more, to finish graduate school.
She pulled the keys from her pocket, and jiggled them in the sticky door lock. That, she supposed, was something she would have to get fixed. When she moved back to the University in the fall, she'd need a working lock.
Or maybe not. Lots of students got around by bicycle and public transit. Maybe she'd just sell this bucket of bolts and buy a bike.
"Penny?"
The voice, so warm and familiar, startled her. She hadn't seen Davey standing just outside the circle of illumination from the light pole. Hadn't paid any attention to her surroundings. She didn't have to in Dory Cove.
The adrenaline rush subsided, but her heart still beat wildly. Just the shock, she told herself. Nothing more. He just startled me, and I reacted. So why wouldn't her heart stop racing?
He had stepped into the light, and stood quietly watching her. His sandy hair hung a little long, just like always, curling over the collar of his Navy-surplus pea coat.
In the glare of the parking lot light, the harsh shadows hid his eyes, but Penny felt as if she could see them anyway. Soft and gray, with long, thick lashes. Eyes that could make her weak at twenty paces, and send liquid fire through her veins when he got closer. She wouldn't look in his eyes, wouldn't let him get closer.
"Hi, Davey. I swear you scared me out of a year's growth, hiding in the dark like that." She hoped her voice was steadier than her racing pulse, hoped if he heard a quaver he would blame it on surprise, and nothing more.
"I didn't mean to scare you. Sorry." His broad shoulders lifted in an apologetic shrug, and he raised his big, square hands, as if to assure her they were empty. "I just needed to talk to you. Mabel said you'd be here tonight, but I know how you hate people trying to talk to you when you're working. I waited 'til when she said you'd be off."
"Visiting interferes with the tips. Without the tips, there's no school. No school, no future. Simple as that." It was an old incantation, one she had used from the time she got her first job. Then, she had used it to remind herself what she was working for. Now, she used it to discourage every advance in Red's.
She tried to stifle her irritation at Mabel for telling Davey her schedule. "I'm really tired, Davey, and I have a big exam tomorrow. Can it wait?"
For a moment, he couldn't speak. Her tone pushed him away, building a wall around her, a wall he didn't know how to climb.
Davey shrugged.
Now that he was here, he wasn't quite sure how to say what he wanted to. He loved Penny, that much was certain. But she had made it clear that it wasn't enough. She had said she loved him, once, but then she'd pushed him away, just as she was doing now. So why was he standing in a cold, empty parking lot at midnight?
Penny took his silence for a yes, pulling the car door open and climbing in. She yanked the seat belt across her lap and jerked the shift lever into reverse, before he could make his tongue work. Gravel spinning under her tires, she shot out of the parking lot and disappeared down the deserted street.
Silently cursing his hesitation, Davey stood in the lot and watched her taillights disappear. Once again, he'd let her walk away--well, drive away--without listening to him. Once again, he was standing alone, watching her leave. It was the story of their lives together.
He straightened his shoulders. If he loved her, if he wanted her in his life, it was time for him to write a new story.
* * *
Davey sat in the corner of Red's and watched Penny as she delivered an armload of foaming schooners to a table of college boys.
Funny how different they seemed to him. Young, no cares, no worries--none of the responsibilities he faced, although they weren't much younger in years. For them, the ocean was a place to play, to while away a few days of summer break.
For him, it was a place to work. Endless hours of back-breaking labor, followed by dark nights of immense loneliness.
He sipped the warm, dark beer in front of him, and followed her with his eyes. She was tiny and dark, looking like a little kid as she bent over to place a glass in front of a towering football player. But when she turned, her figure outlined by the lights from the jukebox, she was clearly a woman.
He could feel a knot of desire in his gut, as he remembered the feel of her tight body in his hands. A sigh escaped his lips, and he longed to see her face--the too-long nose, wide-set dark eyes, full mouth. Her hair had felt like silk in his hands, hands that were now roughened from long days at sea.
Penny had served him the beer, but she wouldn't talk with him. He knew she was supposed to get breaks, but she didn't appear to take them. Davey supposed he could call the Labor Commission, or OSHA, or one of those meddlesome agencies, but it wouldn't do any good. She'd just sit in the ladies' and he still couldn't talk to her.
But tonight, after work, she'd have to listen to him. He'd make sure of it, somehow. He would wait until she was through working. She would be tired, but he had to talk to her, to make her understand he still loved her. Tonight he had to tell her.
Waiting in the dim parking lot, Davey watched knots of boisterous college kids spill out onto the highway. Their laughter seemed out of place to him in the familiar darkness of the beach at night.
He reminded himself they would be gone again in a few days. Back to their safe, carefree campuses. Back to a world that was totally alien to everything he had ever known. They might as well have been going back to another planet.
But Penny lived on that planet, too. Was she like this when she was away from here? When she drove over the winding mountain road that linked Dory Cove to the outside world, did she become someone else? Was she able to shuck off all that she had been, and join that other, alien, world? It was an answer he had to have.
The summer night grew quiet as the tourists ambled off to their motel rooms. He could hear an occasional shrill of girlish laughter and the rumble of male voices, but soon even that stilled.
As the voices faded, he heard the surf in the distance, pounding against the beach. He had lived with that sound all his life, but he never tired of listening to it.
He was alone in the deserted parking lot, his palms slick with sweat and his stomach churning from the warm beer he had nursed for the last hour.
When Penny came out the back door, the screen banging behind her, Davey was about to give up. But the sight of her, fatigue slowing her step, bolstered his resolve. He'd come this far; it was too late to change his mind.
He was careful not to startle her again, letting his steps crunch in the gravel, alerting her to the fact she wasn't alone. He made himself move slowly, though he wanted to rush to her and pull her into his arms, to feel her against him once again.
"Penny."
She stopped and looked at him, her posture like a doe trapped in the headlights. He could barely see her eyes in the dim light, but he knew the look. Wary, on guard, distrustful.
Penny stood her ground with an effort. Davey was so close, she was afraid she would see his eyes. Those damnable, enticing eyes. She didn't dare look directly at him, didn't trust herself.
Davey was a direct man, and his heart was always clearly visible in his eyes. If she looked, just once, she would be caught in that trap again, and she might never escape.
Silence stretched between them, spinning finer and tighter, like the strands of crystal rigging on the glass boats in the gift shops. Penny could feel it, hear the high-pitched ringing of clear crystal, see the fragile delicacy of the strand. The ringing rose, an inaudible strain running through her, until Davey's voice shattered it.
"Come with me. Please." He moved quickly, covering the distance between them in two swift strides. He caught her hand in his, imprisoned her with his presence, his voice. His eyes. Unable to stop herself, she looked into his eyes, and felt the waves of emotion move between them, as inevitable as the surf that pounded the beach behind them.
Penny turned her head, freed herself from his eyes, and pulled her hand away. The loss of contact was a jolt, emotional and physical.
That instant of contact had brought old feelings flooding back, and breaking the contact left her feeling empty and shaken. She took a deep breath of the chill night air, pulling the cold deep into her lungs, smelling the salt of the ocean, then slowly releasing a tiny, vaporous stream as her breath condensed in the cold air.
"Go with you? What kind of a line is that, Davey?" She turned back to face him, her fists clenched at her sides as she struggled to control her battling emotions.
She wanted him, she could admit that; but she didn't want what came with him, the life he represented. And she couldn't have one without the other, so she would have neither.
"It's not a line, Pen." The nickname escaped him without thought. He cursed silently, knowing how she had hated it after they broke up. "There's something I want to show you. It's important. Half an hour, that's all I need."
Penny listened to the words, and to the feelings under them. Davey wasn't the pliable boy she had broken up with three years ago. He was a man, with a man's pride and a man's determination.
He was asking, but he wasn't begging. He wanted to show her something he thought important, but he wouldn't beg.
Davey held his hands clenched deep in his pockets. He wouldn't beg. He couldn't beg. Besides, he knew begging wouldn't work. He had tried that three years ago. All it got him was an occasional polite nod when they couldn't avoid each other in the local grocery store, or on the four-block stretch that defined the "town." And he had been a boy three years ago, a boy desperate to keep the girl he loved.
He still loved her, as deeply and desperately as ever, as he stood immobile, waiting for her to decide. But he was a man now, and he had his pride. If she didn't love him in return, if there wasn't some feeling left, he couldn't beg, or coax, or even demand that she do so.
All he could do was wait. Until the waiting was too long.
Davey was turning back to his pickup when she spoke. It was so soft that at first he wasn't sure if he had imagined it. He hesitated, and turned back to look at her.
"Okay," she whispered again, knowing she was making a mistake. Not this instant, not just going with him for a few minutes. But soon.
Soon it would be too much; she would go too far, and hurt them both, again. But for now she could feel the spell of those eyes, and her heart overruled her head. There would be time later for regrets.
Her single word set Davey's heart racing, and as he approached her, he was certain she could hear it hammering in his chest. He reached out his hand, taking hers in a gentle hold.
No pressure; she had to come to him on her own. He started toward the pickup, and Penny walked with him. He was afraid to speak, or even breathe, for fear she would change her mind and run away again.
When they were on the road, Davey relaxed slightly. He had promised this would only take half an hour, and he had to keep his word. She had to believe him, trust him to do as he said.
He drove quickly, with a skill born of long practice. Small town kid, driving on a dirt road, sitting on his father's lap because he was too little to see over the wheel of the ancient truck. He smiled at the memory.
"What are you smiling at?" Penny's voice broke the fragile silence.
Davey shook his head. "You'll think I'm nuts."
"Well, since I already do..." Her voice, light and teasing, the way he remembered it, trailed off.
"Just remembering when I started driving. I was seven. Dad let me sit on his lap, out on Bitter Ridge Road, and pretend I was steering. I thought I was the king of the road."
Penny chuckled, a sound that made his blood race. He had missed all the little things about her, including the faint spice of her favorite perfume. He could smell it now, as it slowly filled the cab of the truck.
"How are your dad and mom?" she asked. Penny remembered the older Grants with affection. They had accepted her as Davey's girlfriend, and welcomed her into their home and family. Dinners at their house had always been warm and friendly. With a pang, she realized she had missed them almost as much as she'd missed Davey.
"They're great. Actually, they're in Hawaii right now. Remember when we promised them that trip for their 25th anniversary? Took them six years, but they finally managed to get away. Steph and Tom took them to the airport in Portland last Thursday, and they'll pick 'em up a week from tomorrow."
Penny sighed. She remembered the anniversary party vividly. It was her sophmore year in high school, and Bob and Ginnie Grant had glowed like newlyweds, even after 25 years together. She had envied them, wanting the solid affection that marked their marriage.
Davey and his sister Stephanie had surprised them with the promise of a second honeymoon in Hawaii, but Bob and Ginnie had protested that they didn't have time.
"So, they finally found the time. Good for them." Penny watched as the headlights illuminated their turn off the Coast Highway onto a narrow side road.
A knot formed in her stomach as she guessed where they might be headed, but she didn't dare ask. Instead, she followed the safe conversational path of family news.
"How are Tom and Steph? I haven't seen them in years." Of course she hadn't. Davey's sister had found her little brother's history teacher irresistible, and their romance had fueled months' worth of gossip. Tom finally found a job at a high school in the Portland suburbs, and they left the coast for good.
"They're doing fine. Steph's gonna have a baby in the fall." Davey rounded a curve and slowed, pulling into a graveled driveway.
The headlights swept across a weathered house, nestled in a grove of trees. Behind the house, the foothills of the coastal mountain range rose, a deep black against the bright stars of the night sky. The old Cutter place.
"It's mine now, Penny," Davey said, as he cut the engine and switched off the lights. He touched a button on a small box clipped to the visor, and yard lights sprang to life, illuminating the path from the driveway to the house.
Davey chuckled self-consciously. "I hate crashing around in the dark, trying to find the walk."
Davey jumped from the cab, and was halfway around the truck when Penny opened her door and climbed out. She could see a trace of disappointment cross Davey's face. Too late, she remembered how he had prided himself on his manners, always opening doors for her.
Davey took her hand, and led her up the walk to the front porch. Penny had been here before, in high school, when the Cutters still lived here.
She knew the stories of what had happened to Frank Cutter, and had watched Terry Cutter leave their high school English class, panic for her father clear on her face. It had reminded her of running to Bob's house, trying to keep up with her mother.
Terry. Sandy. How many others?
A shiver ran up her back and tightened her scalp, although Davey seemed oblivious to the effect the house had on her.
"I didn't need to paint it," Davey continued, as he opened the front door. "It had weathered a little, sitting empty, but it's solid, and the outside just looks silvery in the daylight."
Penny fought a moment of panic as they crossed the threshold, and willed her voice to stay calm. "I didn't think Mrs. Cutter wanted to sell it," she said. "She told everyone that she would come back to Dory Cove. Sometime."
"That's what she said, all right. But Steph ran into her in Portland a few weeks back, and Mrs. Cutter introduced her to her new husband.
"She's Mrs. Bennett now, and she told Steph how happy she was. Said it was probably time she sold this place."
Penny nodded. She understood exactly how Alice Cutter felt. She'd watched Bob's wife Barbara--and too many other women in Dory Cove--go through the same thing.
It was part of being married to a fisherman, and it was the reason she wouldn't, couldn't, go back to Davey. Fishermen went out on the ocean, and they didn't come back. Wives became widows, and children, like Terry, became orphans. She had promised herself it would not happen to her.
Davey hurried ahead, turning on lights.
He had made a mistake, mentioning Frank Cutter. He knew how Penny felt about fishermen, knew all the arguments they had had about his love of the ocean. And just when he finally got her to talk to him, he blurted out a name designed to remind her of all the reasons she wouldn't come back to him.
He knew she would come back to him on one condition, the same condition she had named three years earlier: Find a job on dry land. A job that didn't keep him away from home night after night, and put his life at risk every day. If he did that, he was sure, Penny would be his again.
He knew it, and he rejected it, just as he had done three years ago. He couldn't give up the ocean, any more than Penny could conquer her fear of it.
What had he thought he would accomplish by bringing her up here? She would see that he was doing well financially, that he was beating the odds. But it wouldn't make a difference. It wouldn't erase her fears.
They had argued about money, too. He knew the uncertainty of her father's income had haunted Penny's childhood.
Stan Martin was a fisherman, and like all fishermen, his income was erratic. Some seasons it was great, and they paid their bills and bought the things they had gone without. But other years the fish were scarce, or the prices low, or the competition too fierce, and Stan barely managed to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Penny had told him she would never live like that, and buying the Cutter place wouldn't be enough to change her mind.
Chapter 2
Penny followed Davey into the kitchen, glancing at her watch. She had promised him half an hour, and she intended to hold him to that.
All she had to do was avoid those eyes, and she'd be just fine. She'd see his house, and then go back to her car and her life, knowing she had made the right decision.
It had been the right decision; being here made that abundantly clear. Davey was determined to stay in Dory Cove, and to stay on the ocean he loved. The ocean she suspected he loved more than her. He would give her up for the ocean, but he wouldn't give up the ocean for her.
The shiver ran up her spine again, reminding her that the former owner of this house, the house she stood in right now, had died at sea, on a fishing boat. This was exactly the reason she couldn't marry a fisherman.
Ever.
She had to tell Davey, to make him see that there was no hope, no reason to try.
"Davey?"
He turned at the sound of her voice, and Penny felt the full force of his eyes on her. They hit with the force of a physical blow, taking the breath from her lungs and putting fire in her veins. His love, and his desire for her, were clear. Clear in a way that left her hollow with a desire that matched his.
When he took her in his arms, she swore she would kiss him just once. Just once to prove to him that it was over. Just once to prove to herself that she could walk away.
To prove that she had been right.
His mouth brushed hers, gentle and tentative. Penny shivered, and allowed herself to be drawn tighter against him. One kiss, that was all.
Davey hesitated, his lips so close that Penny's breath was warm against his cheek. Her perfume had been faint in the truck, but now it filled his head, spicy and fresh and mixed with her own scent--a scent he remembered well.
With the scent came a flood of sensations. She smelled of cool summer nights on the beach, their bodies drawing warmth from each other. She smelled of a trail through the mountains in the autumn, where a deer crossed the path and startled her right into his arms.
Memories washed over him, and he felt the world slip beneath his feet. His mouth found hers, and he was lost, drowning, as memory and reality swirled and combined until he couldn't be sure what was now and what was past. Her arms tightened around him, and her hands found his hair. Tongues danced and darted in a familiar ritual.
Penny fought against the warmth that spread through her. She could feel Davey's hair in her hands, the curve of his ear against her palm. Stubble on his chin grazed her cheek, the feeling both unusual and familiar. Had his beard been this heavy and coarse the last time she kissed him?
He smelled the same, and yet different. The faint tang of aftershave and soap were familiar, but there was a deeper undertone, a masculine fragrance that was Davey, but richer and heavier. He no longer smelled like a boy, but a man.
A man who could claim her, as he always had, if she didn't stop him.
She wrenched herself free from the kiss, and pushed away. The room seemed too small, and she was suddenly cold without his arms around her. She stepped back, putting distance between them, but he followed her, keeping her within reach.
She turned, stumbling, almost running, and went back to the living room, headed for the front door.
She had to get outside, get some room. She couldn't think when Davey was this close, and she had to clear her head.
She couldn't let one kiss undo all that she had accomplished in the last three years.
Davey followed her, his hands trembling and knees weak. He wasn't sure he could walk steadily, but he would run if he had to, to keep her from getting away.
He had felt her response, seen her face, and he knew she still loved him. She could deny it, but it was there. There was still a chance.
Penny stopped in the driveway, frozen in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Gravel spitting under the tires, the truck slid to a stop and Kent Franklin jumped to the ground, leaving the engine running.
"Where's Davey?" he shouted. If he was surprised to see Penny there, he didn't show it. It was as though he didn't even recognize her. "Where is he?" he repeated.
Before she could answer, Davey came running up beside her.
"Slow down. Breathe." Kent's breath was coming in gasps, and Davey had to strain to understand him. He watched as Kent swallowed a huge gulp of air, and tried again.
"We have to go. Now. One of those stupid college kids..." He stopped, and gulped another breath. "The Coast Guard can't be here for at least twenty minutes."
Davey fished in his pocket and tossed his keys at Penny. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed them in mid-air, like she always had. "Lock up and leave the truck at the dock, would you?"
Without waiting for an answer, he jumped in next to Kent and the two of them raced back down the gravel driveway.
Penny stood in the soft glow of the yard lights, her eyes adjusting to the loss of the harsh headlights.
He'd done it again. Just like he always had.
The ocean called and he went, with no thought of his own safety, or of her feelings. Nothing, nothing had changed.
She trudged back to the house, turned out the lights, and started to lock the front door. But her curiosity drew her back in. She switched on a small lamp in the living room, and roamed the room, looking at the place that Davey now called his own.
It was his, all right. His treasured Stephen King novels were carefully lined up on a bookshelf next to the battered recliner she remembered from his parents' den. A coffee cup sat on a low table on the other side of the chair, the dregs of his morning coffee in the bottom. A glance told her he still used too much cream. She sniffed experimentally, and smiled. At least three sugars.
He never had liked coffee much, but he’d learned to drink it on board the fishing boats, and carried the habit home with him. On an impulse, she picked up the cup, the only clutter in an otherwise tidy room, and carried it to the kitchen.
A single cereal bowl sat in the sink, the contents carefully rinsed before Davey left in the morning. She set the cup next to it, pausing to rinse it out.
Growing bolder, she opened the refrigerator, taking inventory of Davey's eating habits. Not much there but milk, half a loaf of bread, a package of hot dogs, and a pound of butter. Clearly, Davey didn't go in for gourmet cooking.
The cupboards told much the same story. Packaged noodle mixes, some mac and cheese dinners, a jar of peanut butter, and corn flakes. Traditional, Joe Average foods.
But they revealed something else. Everything was carefully in its own place, the boxes of pasta arranged by flavor, the nearly-empty cereal box placed squarely in front of an unopened box of wheat flakes. It said, plainly, “Finish one before you open the other.”
How unlike Penny's cupboard, where her dad's bran flakes and her mom's wheat biscuits crowded three or four half-full boxes of her brother's latest imitation fruit, sugar-laden flavor-of-the-week.
It was a habit Davey had brought home from aboard ship. She had heard him talk often enough about how small the spaces were, and how everything had to be kept in its place. Here, she could see, Davey maintained the strict order he had described to her.
The downstairs bathroom was the same, and even the mud room off the kitchen was ordered and tidy. Penny shut off the lights, and returned to the living room. She bounced the keys in her hand, trying to ignore the staircase that beckoned her.
It was just curiosity, just wondering what happened to the boy she used to love. Used to love, she reminded herself, as she stuffed the keys back in her pocket and started up the stairs. Just a peek, and then she would go.
Upstairs, three bedrooms lined the gallery overlooking the main room downstairs. The first two rooms, with a bathroom between, were nearly bare. A few boxes, testimony to Davey's recent move, were scattered about, with some odd bits of furniture mixed in.
The last room was obviously the master bedroom. Larger than the other rooms, an open door gave a glimpse of a private bathroom. The room was neat: no dirty socks on the floor, or clutter on the dresser top. Even in his private room, Davey kept things in their place.
Penny reached for the drawer in the bedside table, then drew her hand back. What did she hope to find? Davey had always been conscientious about protection. Did she want to know if there was someone else, or did she want to prove to herself that there wasn't? And would whatever she found prove anything? And why, why, did it matter, when she and Davey were history?
With a snort of impatience, Penny slapped at the light switch, leaving only the faint glow of the downstairs lights, and went back along the gallery.
It was no longer any of her business what Davey did, or didn't do. He had wanted to show her the house, and now she had seen it. She would drive his truck back into town, leave it at the dock, and go home. That would be the end of it, and in a few weeks she would leave Dory Cove.
For good.
* * *
The drive back to town, alone with her thoughts, seemed shorter than the trip out with Davey had been. Penny didn't have time to sort out the turmoil that assailed her.
Sitting behind the wheel where Davey had sat less than an hour ago, the sights of his house, his bedroom, his bed, fresh in her mind, she couldn't stop wondering about what he had done, who he had seen, since they broke up.
She shook her head impatiently, trying to dislodge the images, and the questions. It was nothing to her, not anymore. What they had was gone, and she didn't want it back. She had plans that no one could be allowed to interfere with.
She was going to graduate school in the fall. When she finished she would live in a real city, not a tiny fishing village. She would earn her own money, and she would find a man who wasn't a fisherman. And if she didn't find a man, she would be just fine on her own. She was an independent woman.
She pulled into the parking lot in front of the dock, and parked the truck. It was only a couple blocks back to Red's. She could walk back, retrieve her car, and be home in fifteen minutes, with the encounter behind her.
She would count her tips again, wash her hair, and go to bed. Her life would be back to normal, back the way she wanted it.
This early in the year, most of the transient slips were empty. There was a solitary light at the entry to the parking lot, and widely-spaced spots of light along the pier. She could see the empty slips and the dark shapes of moored fishing boats farther along.
She sat staring at the boats. The boats that took away the men of Dory Cove, like Bob, and Frank Cutter, and didn't bring them back. Mabel would say that the boats were her rivals, but she disagreed. The boats and the sea were only her rivals if she wanted one of the men of Dory Cove, and she didn't.
She didn't want any of them.
She draped the keys over the visor, and slammed the door. Davey probably had a spare key somewhere, but the truck would be safe here in the lot for the short time until Davey came back.
The Coast Guard was only a few minutes away, and whatever Kent, Davey, and the rest of them had been up to would be taken over by the rescuers. Though she tried to ignore it, it was a pattern she had seen repeated a thousand times over.
Penny hesitated. She didn't owe Davey anything, but he was off trying to help someone else. Maybe she ought to wait.
Straining her eyes toward the blackness of the ocean, she could see lights moving. Distances were deceptive on the water, and she couldn't be sure, but it looked as though some of them were headed for the dock.
Probably the Coast Guard had relieved the fishermen, and they were headed in. She could wait a few minutes, and give Davey the keys.
Opening the door, she grabbed the keys and dropped them back in her pocket.
In the distance, Penny heard the wail of a siren, then another. She wondered if another tourist had decided they could outrun the local police on the Coast Highway. One did, almost every weekend in the summer.
Some hotshot, usually with a couple too many beers under his belt, tried to run from the cops - a really stupid idea on a winding road with no turnoffs. Eventually they would have to stop, and they would get caught. She'd see the report in the weekly newspaper in a few days, unless this one went off the road before he stopped.
The sirens were coming closer.
Penny turned her back to the lights on the ocean to watch the highway. When the story of the chase was released, she could say she'd seen them speed by her. She watched the flash of the emergency lights as the sirens approached, but there was no car leading the chase.
A police car and a paramedic unit slowed at the driveway, and fishtailed into the parking lot. The noise and lights were overwhelming. When the vehicles stopped, the sirens cut off abruptly.
Silence washed over the parking lot, now bathed in the eerie strobe of red, blue, white. Two uniformed paramedics sprang from the back of their van, dragging a stretcher behind them. The legs sprung open with a metallic clanging, and the stretcher stood empty, waiting for the Coast Guard to deliver its human cargo.
Two officers stepped from the patrol car, and the four men started down the dock, the stretcher's wheels clattering on the uneven boards. As Penny turned to watch them, she realized the lights had come much closer, and she could hear the chug-chug-chug of a diesel engine echoing across the cove.
Penny stretched and yawned, realizing just how tired she felt. Davey would be back in a few minutes. She could return his keys and head home. A hot shower and her bed sounded pretty good right now.
Actually, Davey would be here soon enough; she could head home now, and not have to see him at all. Why bother waiting, when they both knew it was over?
She was putting the keys back in the truck when she heard Kent's voice from the end of the dock. She couldn't make out the words, but the anxiety in his tone was clear. She didn't understand why he would be so upset about a stranger, or why he, and not the Coast Guard, was meeting the paramedics.
Curious, she hesitated. She could just walk down the dock and tell Davey the keys were behind the visor.
She had only gone about ten steps when she heard the stretcher thumping back toward her, the sound altered by the weight it now carried. In the dim light, she could make out a knot of men following the stretcher as the paramedics guided it along. As they got closer, she retreated, clearing the way for the injured man.
She scanned the small group, looking for Davey. A sudden feeling of dread shot through her, turning the blood in her veins to ice water. Davey was nowhere to be seen, and there was a terrible familiarity to the shock of sun-bleached hair she could see on the pillow of the stretcher.
It was a nightmare. A nightmare she had sworn she would never put herself through. Davey was hurt. Bad enough that he couldn't walk. Bad enough to need paramedics.
Bad enough to scare Kent, whose face she could see clearly now. He followed the stretcher, along with the police officers and two guys from another boat. Their faces made it clear: something had gone badly wrong.
Chapter 3
"What happened?" Penny grabbed Kent by the arm, forcing him to stop his rush to the paramedic van. "What's wrong with Davey?"
Kent turned, his eyes focusing on her for the first time. "Penny? Penny, what are you doing here?"
His eyes followed the stretcher, as the paramedics loaded it into the van and slammed the doors.
"I was at Davey's when you came for him." Penny shook Kent, demanding his attention. "He asked me to bring his truck..."
"You were there?" Kent interrupted, looking genuinely puzzled. His face cleared. "You were there, weren't you? Gosh, I didn't even realize. I mean, I wasn't paying much attention. I tried to call the house, and nobody answered, and I just pulled in because I saw the yard lights on..."
"Kent!" Penny bit her lips to keep from screaming.
When she spoke again, her voice was controlled, but she was shaking inside. "Kent. You have to tell me what happened. Where are they taking Davey?"
"Davey?" Kent answered every question with a question, and Penny felt her temper rising. This was what she had wanted to avoid. Now it had been forced on her, and Kent couldn't even manage a straight answer. She had to resist the urge to throttle an answer out of him.
"Yes, Davey. Where are they going?"
"The hospital. Tillamook. They're taking him to the hospital."
Hospital. That meant he was still alive.
She had to get there, had to follow Davey. She ran for the pickup, with Kent at her heels. He reached for the keys, but Penny was ahead of him. She jumped into the driver's seat and jammed the keys in the ignition. She vaguely registered Kent strapping himself into the passenger side as the engine roared to life.
When Penny pulled onto the highway, she caught the distant flash of strobe lights and another set of taillights just ahead of her. The guys from the other boat must already be on their way to the hospital.
She drove by instinct, without thinking. She was aware of curves in the road, of a white line turned into fleeting dots by her speed. The only thing she could think of was Davey, ahead of her somewhere in the dark, speeding toward the hospital.
The ambulance raced ahead, its lights winking out of sight around the curves of the Coast Highway. The siren grew fainter. Penny fought the urge to catch up. It was a foolish idea on the tight curves of the highway.
"What happened, Kent?" Penny said.
"College kids," Kent answered, as though that explained everything.
"What about the college kids?"
"Their boat was on the rocks. Getting pounded. We tried to get a line on 'em, keep 'em safe." His voice caught, and he cleared his throat.
"They were drunk, too drunk to be out there, too drunk to help themselves. Then one of them fell in. His buddies couldn't fish him out. Davey saved him, pulled him out before he killed himself. But Davey got banged up in the process."
"Penny?" Kent's voice shook. "What are you doing here? I mean, you and Davey. You broke up a long time ago. But you were there, at his house..." He trailed off in confusion.
"Davey asked me to look at the house. That's all." Penny didn't want to explore the feelings that boiled inside her, making her words a lie. She knew it, and maybe Kent suspected, but she would never let Davey know. Nothing would interfere with her plans.
Still, here she was, rushing through the night, her heart pounding. They rounded the last curve through the farmland, and sped down the short, straight stretch into town. The wail of the siren had faded completely from the night air, leaving an echoing silence behind.
The emergency waiting room was about as friendly as an IRS audit. An officious nurse in a stiff white nylon uniform nabbed Kent as he came through the door.
"You were in charge?" she demanded. Kent nodded. "Come with me, please. We need some information, and Mr. Grant isn't able to answer questions right now."
* * *
Davey hurt. Breathing was painful. He didn't think he could move his left arm, and when he finally did, he wished he hadn't.
"Hold still, there." A firm hand gripped his arm, settling it carefully on the crisp sheet beneath him. "The doctor will be back in just a minute."
Doctor? Davey dimly remembered being wheeled into a van. He recognized the antiseptic sting of the air. He was in a hospital.
It hurt to move, to breathe. Everything else was a fog, unimportant when compared to the fire that burned his chest with every breath.
He heard voices, but they were far away. People in white surrounded him, their voices indistinct.
He felt a needle prick his arm, the sensation a faint echo of the pain that threatened to engulf him.
A gray curtain fogged his vision, and the pain became a distant throb, making room for fear and isolation.
He was alone.
Shouldn't there be someone with him? Where was Penny? He wanted her, needed her here.
Someone was moving his arm, and touching his chest. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the loneliness of the gray curtain.
* * *
Penny stood by the head of the hospital bed, watching Davey sleep. The doctor had said it might be another hour or two before he woke up. It didn't matter. She didn't want him to wake up alone.
Kent had gone home in the wee hours of the morning. Jack and Mitch, the other crew, has taken him to pick up his truck.
"I hate to leave you here, Penny," he'd said. "But Bonnie's pregnant, and, well, I don't like to leave her alone at night."
She'd nodded, sent him home, and called her mom. "I didn't want you to worry, Mom. I know how you are when I'm late getting home. But I can't just leave him here without anybody."
She'd listened for a minute, then answered. "He broke his arm, and a couple ribs. Wrenched his knee. He's sleeping off some pain killers, and the doctor says he'll be able to go home in a day or so. 'Nothing serious,' he says."
Bitterness crept into her voice, the product of anger, exhaustion, and despair. "Only serious enough to put Davey in the hospital a couple days, and out of work for a couple weeks, maybe more."
Now she stared at Davey, and wondered how he would take the news that he couldn't sail his damned ocean for a few weeks. He wouldn't care about the pain, or the inconvenience, or the lost income, just how much he would miss the ocean.
Davey's eyelids fluttered, and Penny caught her breath. He was waking up. She reached for his hand and held it, wanting him to know she was there.
* * *
Davey forced his eyes open. His bed felt funny, and the light was all wrong. Someone was holding his hand, and for some reason that was very important. He struggled to focus on the person next to his bed, but the light was too dim for him to make out the face.
He thought he smelled a whiff of perfume, but it was immediately smothered by antiseptic, as though he had spilled a bottle of mouthwash in the bathroom.
The sheets rustled beneath him as he tried to sit up. Pain lanced through his chest, and his left arm wouldn't take orders from his brain. He closed his eyes, and felt the grayness closing back in. He could just surrender again.
The pain stopped him.
He wasn't at home in his own bedroom; he was somewhere that smelled of antiseptic. A hospital? Memory was chaotic, like a slide show that had been spilled and put back out of order.
Reaching for the college kid, flailing in the water. Riding in the back of a van. Sirens. Their boat, nearly swamped by a huge wave. People in white coats, and a gray curtain. Leaving Penny with his truck...
Penny. The thought of Penny struck him with the force of a physical blow. He had left her at his house, asked her to bring the truck.
Had she come to the dock with the truck?
He had to know. Bracing himself, he pushed himself to sit up. It hurt to move, and his grip tightened on the hand that held his.
He felt a squeeze in return. His vision was fuzzy, but the faint scent of spicy perfume returned.
It was Penny.
Even if he couldn't focus clearly, he knew her scent, could sense it under the antiseptic sting. She was here, and she was holding his hand.
For a moment he wondered if he had died, and this was heaven.
But if it was, he wouldn't hurt the way he did.
* * *
Davey squeezed her hand, sending a shiver through Penny. He was waking up. She reached her other hand across the crisp sheet and pushed the buzzer than would summon the nurse.
As Davey struggled to move, she laid her palm gently against his chest, pressing him back down. "Just rest, honey. Don't try to move. Someone will be right here to help you."
The endearment had slipped from her lips without conscious thought, as she tried to reassure him. It didn't really signify anything, just a soft word to quiet his sudden restlessness.
With a groan, Davey laid back against the pillow, his eyes squeezing shut in a grimace of pain. The nurse had told Penny he would have "some discomfort" from the broken ribs when he started to wake up, but this didn't look like discomfort. Davey was a strong man, used to the rough life of the ocean; he wouldn't wince like that over "discomfort."
She punched the button again, jabbing her finger down on the cold, hard plastic. With satisfaction, she heard the buzzer sounding at the nurse's station a few yards away, and the quiet squeak of rubber-soled shoes hurrying in their direction.
"He's waking up."
The nurse nodded and pushed Penny aside.
Davey groaned when Penny released his hand, and she hurried to the other side of the bed, taking his hand and squeezing in what she hoped was a reassuring way.
The nurse's movements were quick and efficient as she checked Davey and made notes on his chart. Finally she looked up at Penny.
"He'll be awake soon. I'm going to page the doctor - he'll want to talk to Mr. Grant as soon as he's conscious."
Penny nodded and looked back at Davey. His eyelids fluttered, and his grip tightened on her hand, as though he was afraid she would let go again. His lips moved, but she couldn't hear what he was trying to say. She leaned closer, putting her face near his.
"Davey?"
"Penny?" His voice was quiet, the words almost felt more than heard. "Is that you, Pen?"
"It's me, honey. I'm right here."
"I hurt, Pen. It hurts to breathe."
"I know. Don't try to talk. The doctor will be here soon. The nurse just went to call him."
Davey's brow furrowed in concentration. Penny could see that he was confused. "Doctor?"
"You're in the hospital, Davey."
"Hospital?"
Penny was reminded of her conversation with Kent. Did all men answer a question with a question? She didn't remember Davey being like that, but they had been apart a long time. Then again, maybe it was just the drugs.
"Yes. Hospital. Please, just wait for the doctor, Davey. He can explain."
Davey's eyes opened briefly, and he looked up at her. "It really is you, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's really me."
Davey smiled, and closed his eyes again.
Penny cursed herself for coming. She had seen the look in Davey's eyes, knew that he was reading much more into the situation than she intended. She was already on the way to hurting them both, once again.
* * *
When Dr. Bracken came in a few minutes later, Davey was glad to see him. Although he had only been awake for a few minutes, Penny had refused to give him any straight answers, and he was anxious to find out when he could leave.
"Not tonight, I'm afraid. We want to keep an eye on you, at lest overnight. Make sure everything's behaving before we send you home."
"But doc..."