Jaws is one of my favorite movies—it’s as much about the relationships as it is about a killer shark. But I’ve never read the novel. And this little girl did? Shouldn’t she be into, like, board books or something? I can’t help but be impressed. And maybe a little unnerved.
“Are you coming, son?” Dad gives me a look that says I need to stop overstepping boundaries.
“Yep.”
Before I can walk away, Jo tears out the page and holds it out with a dimpled smile. “I’m not done, but it’s close enough. Keep it.”
I take the page, looking down to see a pastel-hued version of the scene where the shark pops up behind Chief Brody, just before the iconic line, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.” Jo has used the black pencil to tilt the shark’s mouth into a sharp-toothed smile, and she’s drawn and colored white and yellow daisies around his neck. It manages to be terrifyingly adorable.
Feeling oddly moved, I thank her and join Tank at the door.
“You know,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You could always settle down and have one of your own.”
If only. Too bad the one woman I could see myself marrying is half a world away and has probably forgotten all about me.
I have one boot out the door when I hear a voice behind me. A voice I would know anywhere. Her voice.
I’m hit with a rush of adrenaline, the likes of which I haven’t felt since the last pass I caught on the field. My heart slams sideways in my chest. My hairline prickles and sweat begins to form on my lower back.
Slowly, I turn. And just like I’ve conjured her into being with all my thoughts, there is Lindy.
Chapter Four
Pat
“Jo,” Lindy says, “where did you get this coloring book?”
My gaze is guided by the melodic tones of a voice I never thought I’d hear again. And there she is. Lindy Darcy, looking somehow both unchanged and different. I was wrong about idolizing her memory. She is more than I remember—more beautiful, more alluring, more of a draw to some primal and real part of me.
Her dark hair hangs wild around her face, framing delicate cheekbones and a mouth that carries a gut-punch of kissing memories. I swear, for a moment, I feel the ghost of her on my lips, tasting of strawberry lip gloss and mint, a combination that would work nowhere else.
The long fringe of her bangs is new, and though they look good on her, something about them, or maybe it’s the slumped set of her shoulders, makes Lindy look as though she’s hiding. There is a sadness to her I can feel in a palpable way, and my stomach twists with it. A tidal wave of protectiveness crashes over me. I want to curl Lindy to my chest until she doesn’t look so … so …
Sad? Lonely? Maybe … defeated?
There was a time I swore to this woman I’d do anything I could to keep a smile on her face. The weight of my broken promises threatens to make my knees buckle.
My eyes travel over her face and down to strong shoulders and long, lean arms. My gaze catches on her lime green fingernail polish, which is so … Lindy. Brash and bright and fun. Her legs are bare underneath her black cotton dress, and she has on cowboy boots almost as worn as my own.
My heart has come dislodged from its normal location inside my chest and is careening around behind my ribs, loose and excitable as a live wire.
“Aunty Val gave it to me,” Jo says.
Lindy, who still hasn’t noticed me in the doorway, makes a frustrated noise. “Well, your Aunty Val and I are going to have words.”
“Lindy.”
When her name leaves my lips, it’s on an exhale, an adoring sigh. It’s pitiful—that’s what it is. And I don’t even care. I couldn’t hold myself back right now if I tried. And why try? Before me is the woman I thought I lost. I’d give anything for another chance.
When she sees me, a muscle in her cheek jumps and her shoulders stiffen. Not the reaction I would hope for, but then, I didn’t expect her to run across the room and throw herself in my arms. Even if I wish she would.
Our eyes lock, and my heart reacts like a bomb going off inside one of those containment vessels—an explosion of catastrophic proportions hidden completely inside me. Because on the outside, I’m still frozen.
Lindy’s green eyes flash with shock, then spin through a kaleidoscope of emotions, finally landing on something I can’t name. I’m not sure what she sees on my face, but I probably look like a cartoon character with hearts for eyes and a tongue rolling out like a red carpet.
I am a man released out into daylight after being locked in a storm cellar for years. I’m blinking and blinded by the sudden exposure to the sun.
I move toward Lindy before I can stop myself. When I’m a few feet away, her hand jerks up.
“Don’t,” she whispers, and I stop where I am, fighting every urge in my body to move closer. Her eyes fall to the paper in my hand, the one Jo colored for me, and another unreadable expression passes over her face like a cloud. Jo glances between us, her brow furrowed.
“Is he my daddy?”
Jo’s question, asked in that same no-nonsense voice she used to tell me about Jaws needing a friend, rips through me. I know Lindy must be the best aunt in the world Jo mentioned. I’m not her father, but a surge of protectiveness rises in my chest.
“No. He isn’t.” Lindy’s voice softens as she brushes a stray lock of Jo’s dark hair away from her face. I can hardly make out Lindy’s words, but I do, and they’re painfully raw. “Remember? Your mama didn’t know who your daddy was.”
“Okay.”
Jo nods, and my heart cracks a little at the way she simply accepts this. It makes me want to find whoever her daddy is and give him a hearty shake.
“Then, who is he?” Jo asks, pointing to me.
Without so much as another glance my way, Lindy dismisses me with a firm, cool voice. “He’s no one. Not anymore.”
Well, I need to change THAT. Now that I’ve found Lindy, and she’s here, my wheels are already turning. They’re a bit squeaky, but still.
“Then why are you upset with him?” Jo asks. “Your chest always gets splotchy and your ears get pink when you’re upset.”