Sea Star Legacy Read online

  The boat lurched sideways interrupting her thoughts. A second later, sea spray slapped her in the face. As the water trickled down her wet suit to settle at her waist, a cold chill crawled along her skin. Taking in a deep breath she tried to wait patiently for her body to warm the liquid ice between her and the suit. Was he steering into every wave he could find? She couldn’t believe the waves were that rough out there.

  In answer to her unspoken question, the engine strained as the boat plummeted down the back side of a wave. Her stomach plummeted with it. Clutching the sides of the seat for comfort, she held her eyes tightly shut and tried to imagine herself back home. How could all this be happening to her? She had to be having a nightmare.

  Then the waters calmed. The boat leveled off and the engine resumed its steady hum. Releasing her grip on the seat, she stroked the cool, clean vinyl with her thumb. If nothing else the owner of the Nemesis took pride in her condition, she thought in an attempt to relieve her growing panic. She hoped he took as much pride in the boat’s maintenance. Being stranded with the Nemesis’ indignant skipper would almost be as unbearable as being lost at sea.

  She shouldn’t have been so hateful to him, she thought, feeling a twinge of guilt. So, he’d been sitting on the shore watching her for some time before he came to offer his help. At least he had come out to help. He could’ve easily gone home to dinner and forgotten all about the person stranded in the bay. After all, he didn’t know her, didn’t owe her anything. Or did he? He wondered. He’d called her by name. How did he know who she was? Clearing her throat, she searched for reassurance that her vocal chords would obey her commands and not crack in the middle of her question. “Have we met?”

  “Yes,” he replied, hesitating as though the answer required a lot of consideration. “The circumstances weren’t the kind I would expect you to remember, though. I was at your father’s funeral today. I’m Luke Caldwell,” the man mumbled over his shoulder then returned his attention to the abyss of water in front of the boat.

  “I’m . . . sorry,” she finally replied, shaking her head with disbelief. “I met so many people today. The entire day is like a blurred dream.”

  The muscles in the man’s neck tightened. He turned to her. “If a funeral feels like a blurred dream, what does floating out to sea feel like? I would have thought Ben Harris’ daughter had more sense. But then you’re not from around here, are you?” His sarcasm clung to his every word.

  Sandra fidgeted in her seat as she tried to ignore his hurtful remarks. It was evident this man thought you had to live near the ocean to have an intelligence factor larger than a jellyfish. She’d like to see what Luke Caldwell would do if he came face-to-face with a good old fashion Oklahoma bull. Fort Walton Beach was beautiful however, it was far from paradise. Case in point, she couldn’t remember reading anywhere in the Florida tourist brochures where they’d mentioned currents or tides in the bay. There were plenty of pictures of people sailing and swimming. Besides, nothing gave him the right to lecture her. Nothing, except the fact he held the only available means of getting to shore. She’d simply have to continue to ignore his grating remarks if she ever wanted to get back to solid ground, she though with a grimace.

  “So, you knew my father?” she asked, consciously trying to start up a congenial conversation.

  “Yeah, I knew Ben Harris,” he told her obviously distracted from his original subject.

  “Was he a respected business man?” she asked, in hopes that he would warm to the topic.

  “Ben was more of a sailor than a businessman.” His shoulders dropped as he glanced back at her and leaned against the side of the boat. “Some would say he was one of the best around.”

  A wave splattered across the vessel’s heeled surface, sending spray into Sandra’s face. When she opened her eyes and met his gaze, he gave her a quick nod and turned his attention back to the black abyss of water in front of the boat. She guessed the small gesture was as close to an apology as the man got.

  “Thanks,” she muttered sarcastically and swiped a stray wet strand of hair back with her hand. At least he seemed to have taken the bait and changed the subject, Sandra thought with relief. She’d never been any good at listening to lectures even when they were deserved.

  Looking briefly over his shoulder, he gave her an icy glare. An awkward tension crackled in the air while they both rode in silence. Finally she heard him take an exaggerated breath and clear his throat. It was then she realized that she’d been holding her own breath for some time.

  “Your father wasn’t what you’d classify a successful business man,” he began. “I don’t think, Ben really wanted to be. Don’t get me wrong, he did a lot for the community. As long as he met his obligations and could lend a hand to his friends, however, he was happy.”

  “It sounds like the two of you were close,” Sandra stated, hoping he would continue to talk about her father. The melancholy tone of Luke Caldwell’s voice seemed to sooth a part of Sandra’s weariness.

  Luke fell into another silence for several seconds before he continued. “One year, I tried to talk him into going to the Catamaran National Championship in Hawaii. He said, that was for people trying to prove something, not for him. Said, he was too old to traipse around the country like a young buck trying to prove something to the world. Your dad always stayed around close.”

  Sandra smiled and shook her head in disbelief. Her mother had always called her father a bum with no sense of responsibility. The man Luke Caldwell was describing sounded like a paragon of virtue.

  “You mean he raced?” she asked, wanting to keep her rescuer talking.

  “Sure.” Luke turned from the turbulent waters to examine the young woman’s features. Her complexion appeared as fine as porcelain in the glow of the moon. The outline of her face was rounded and lean. Her nose looked to be a petite version of her father’s. He could hear teeth chattering in the quiet as she sat bent over, hugging herself about the middle.

  Perhaps he’d been a little tough on her, he thought.

  “You didn’t know your dad raced?” Luke asked, suddenly aware of the silence between them.

  “No, I hadn’t heard from or seen my father in over nineteen years.”

  “You’re kidding? He talked about you all the time. He was quite taken with his college educated daughter.”

  Luke watched a brief grin form on her lips. It seemed strange that she hadn’t known her father. Ben Harris had certainly spent enough of Luke’s time bragging about what she was up to.

  “How’d he know I graduated?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea. I assumed you’d sent him an invitation. Maybe your mom or somebody told him? he suggested, feeling uncomfortable trying to explain her father’s source of information.

  “It most assuredly wasn’t from me. He never returned a single letter I wrote to . . . . Luke watched her face grow pale before she turned away from him. It seemed almost too much to believe. Ben had seemed like he really cared for his daughter. Why on earth would he shut her out of his life? Not that it was any of his business. He should drop the subject and forget about it.

  “There’s a blanket and some towels under the seat you’re sitting on if you need them. It gets cold around here at night.”

  “Thanks,” she replied, already digging through the compartment.

  She’s none of your concern Caldwell, he reminded himself as he stared out into the night. Once he bought the shop from her, he would never see her again.

  The motor slowed down. “We’re here,” he announced. “Don’t move. I’ll pull the boat up on the dock. No need for you to get any wetter. You’ll probably have pneumonia tomorrow the way it is.” The man almost sounded sincere, she thought to herself as she stared up into his face, searching for a clue that would give away his feelings or at least his motives. His expression, however, remained tense and unreadable.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Realizing she had been staring at him for an uncomfortable
amount of time, she shifted her gaze out into the bay.

  “I’m sorry. My thoughts slipped off for a moment.”

  “Hang on to the rail,” he told Sandra, shooting her a reprimanding glare as he guided the craft onto the pearl white sand. The surf splashed along its side and Sandra hugged the threadbare blanket tighter around her. It smelled of engine oil and mildew but under the circumstances the blanket was a true find.

  Sandra watched Luke climb up onto the bow. The dark outline of his broad shoulders and muscular physique against the translucent night sky reminded her of a great warrior of the sea. A dangerous man, accustom to getting his way.

  As soon as he stepped down onto the deck, however, the squashy sound of his shoes evaporated her fanciful thoughts. Stopping no more than a foot in front of Sandra, he offered her his hand.

  “May I help you?” she asked gently.

  Sandra hesitated. His offer of assistance was the first civil tone he’d used with her since he’d rescued her. She couldn’t help but be suspicious of his sudden change in heart. “I’ll be fine,” she told him, trying to make herself sound calm and in control. “Thanks.”

  Smiling a lopsided grin down at her, Luke led Sandra by the arm onto the front of the boat. Then leaving her standing against the railing, he climbed onto the hull. With a gentle movement, he hoisted her up onto the bow like an expensive racing sail. Her body swayed from side to side, as they both struggled to maintain their balance.

  “Go ahead and sit down here,” Luke said, as he grasped her waist in one hand and placed his other hand on her elbow to guide her. Under the pressure of his touch, he could feel her trembling.

  Would she be all right? Maybe he should take her over to Bernice’s for tonight or call the doctor or something? She could have hit her head or be in shock or heaven knows what else. He didn’t mind lending a helping hand, though he intended never to submit himself to being another person’s nurse maid. He’d taken care of Alex for four months at the price of ostracizing himself from his family. Look where that had gotten him. A divorce. No, someone else would have to take care of this half drowned mermaid. It wasn’t going to be him, he told himself as he grabbed her thin waist and lifted her off the boat into the air.

  His footing gave way. They both fell backwards. Sandra’s wet body pinned him down onto the beach. He used his arms to roll her off of him, but it was no use. “Sandra. Sandra. Come on. Get off me.”

  She didn’t respond and he didn’t know what he should do. As he stared into the starlit sky, he couldn’t believe the situation himself in. He couldn’t very well lie there all night waiting for the last tourist of the season to trip over the two of them. Or could he? he wondered, letting out a deep sigh of frustration. Shaking her arm again, he listened for any response. Sandra mumbled something and snuggled her head under his chin.

  “Huh, fantastic,” he muttered to himself. “Ben Harris, you son of a bitch, why aren’t you here to take care of this situation yourself? Why me? Oh, I know you got me out of some tough spots and save my hide more than once. But Ben, damn it, this is your daughter.” A deep chuck emanating from Luke’s gut wound into his throat choking him with its presence. Now, look at you Luke, he told himself. Not only are you lying in the sand with an unconscious woman on top of you, now you’re talking to the dead.

  Propping himself up with his elbow, he rolled her off him. Her limp body reminded Luke of the clown doll he had once bought as a gift for his infant son.

  A feeling of tightness enclosed his chest. You too, he thought. Check to see if she’s breathing. For a frozen second, his heart missed a beat. On his knees, he leaned down and placed his cheek next to her mouth while he searched the soft flesh of her neck for a pulse. Her warm breath greeted him on his face and a clear throbbing pulse responded to his touch. Feeling a sense of relief blow through him like the wind through a windsock, he let out a sigh and sat back on the sand.

  As he looked over her slender body, he again was struck by her likeness to Ben. Her cheekbones were fine and pronounced. Her body frame was long and lean. Ben had forgotten to mention how good looking his daughter was, he thought dryly as he slid one of his arms under her neck and the other under her legs. Pushing up on one knee, he picked her up and began to struggle towards the Sea Breeze.

  Once at the door of the shop, Luke tried the glass front door. Locked. Turning to rest against the side of the building, he remembered the last time Ben had lost his keys. They had been sailing in the annual Spring Forward Regatta. Rounding the downwind mark, headed for the finish line, they’d managed to capsize. Ben had warned him to ease up on the main sheet, but Phil Jacobson had closed in on their lead. The lee hull buried deeper and deeper into the spray. Luke pulled the sail tighter and tighter against the wind. Finally the hull dug itself into a swell. Both Luke and Ben had been thrown from the catamaran before it flopped onto its side.

  After they’d right the boat, Luke had looked over at Ben who had his shirt pocket inside out and was swearing. He’d lost his boat knife and his keys. Luke had thought it strange that Ben was more upset over the knife than his keys until they’d landed. Without a single word, Ben had strode up to the old clay flower pot in front of the Sea Breeze and fished out an extra key.

  Laying Sandra next to the side door, he prayed the key would still be in its original hiding spot. Thank goodness for old habits, he thought as his fingertips touched the small piece of metal in the bottom of the pot.

  The key in hand, Luke let himself inside. Then returning to Sandra’s side, he bent down to pick her up. Lying on the porch step, she began to toss her head from side to side as though she were having a bad dream. A part of him wanted to wake her, tell her everything would be fine. Another part of him wanted to hold her and never let her go. She looked so helpless and feminine. The more sensible part of Luke argued he should run. Simply turn around and never look back. After all, what did he really owe Ben Harris? Only his friendship. If he could have honored Ben’s dying request, maybe he wouldn’t feel so responsible for his daughter now. Oh well, he’d come this far with her, he might as well see her safely inside.

  As Luke picked her up into his arms, her hands ran up his chest reaching for him. A gentle fragrance of flowers and fresh sunshine mingled caressed him with her touch. He felt his manhood nudge at the fly of his shorts. How on earth had he gotten himself into this situation? he wondered in disbelief. And with Ben’s daughter, no less. Would Ben Harris applaud him for saving her life, or shoot him for the instincts he couldn’t control?

  Luke stumbled into the living room and lowered Sandra onto the couch. Switching on the table lamp, he dared breathe again. Now, what should he do? She needed to have her wet suit removed. Not that he would put himself in such a position of jeopardy. He could try and awaken her. No, he decided, he’d call Bernice. She’d help. After all, no one had been closer to Ben than Bernice.

  Reaching for the phone with his arm outstretched, he stopped short in indecision. Mesmerized, he glared at the phone. His gaze focused on the gash in the side of the off-white desk model complete with rotary dial. It was so like Ben to hang onto something way past it being in fashion. As long as it worked, he’d patch it up. Luke felt an all too familiar pain grasping at his chest cavity; his eyes stung from unshed tears. Why did it have to be Ben? Why couldn’t the doctors have done something to patch him up? It wasn’t fair. Of all the people in Fort Walton, why did Ben Harris’ number come up?

  Luke leaned back into the sofa and coiled his fingers into the loops of his shorts and looked down at Sandra. Her chest rose in soft cascades, however, she was pale, so pale.

  “Shake it off, Luke,” he told himself. “You need to do something.”

  Leaning forward, he stared at the phone, again. As if in reply, it began to ring. He grabbed the receiver and waited for the caller’s greeting.

  “Hello.” He couldn’t believe his good fortune. It was Bernice’s robust voice.

  “Bernice?”

  “Yes. Who is thi
s?”

  “Luke.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have dialed the wrong number.”

  “No. No, you didn’t. I’m at Ben’s. Listen, I’ve got a problem.” Luke knew he sounded evasive, but what was he going to tell her? Please come over, I’m afraid to touch Ben’s daughter and she needs to be undressed. Why, if this got out, he’d never hear the end of it. There was already a lot of talk around town about Ben’s young, pretty daughter who’d inherited his estate. There would be no end to the length of gossip the locals would come up with. “Bernice, can you come right over?”

  “Sure. I’ll be there in two shakes, Hon. Are you okay?” The older woman’s voice sounded as shaky as his nerves.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine, as soon as you get over here.” Luke could hear the panic in his own voice and suspected she noticed too.

  Thankful that Bernice lived just next door, he hung up the phone and glanced back down at Sandra. Damp locks of hair fell loose across her face. Her hands were clutching the old blue plaid blanket which embraced her thin frame. Luke had never seen the threadbare piece of cloth look so elegant.

  Stroking back a strand of unruly brown hair from her forehead, he noted the fine white sand which clung to her face. It made her skin sparkle in the soft glow of the lamp. A knock sounded from the side door. Like a young boy who had been caught necking behind the school building, Luke jumped off the sofa to answer the door. As he approached, he heard a key turn in the lock.

  Bernice opened the door and stood motionless in front of him. Peering past Luke, she let out a small gasp. “It’s Sandra. What on earth happened?” Brushing Luke aside, she rushed to the edge of the sofa. Putting her hands to her plump, rosy cheeks, Bernice stared at the young woman. “My goodness, she does look a lot like Ben, doesn’t she?”

  Luke thought he saw tears swelling up in Bernice’s sable brown eyes. Moving to her side, he placed his arm around her and gave her short stout body a firm squeeze. She buried her head in his shoulder and Luke felt moisture penetrating the cotton of his shirt. He loved Bernice like he had loved his own mother. Now, he needed to make Ben’s parting easier for her. It was the least a friend could do. Her body shook. Then she pulled back, wiping the pools of water from the corners of her eyes. “What happened, Luke?”