The Pirate's Legacy Read online

  “Excuse me?”

  Acting as if the bowl hid the Holy Grail, she did not look up. “The huffing. It was cute when we were kids. Now? It’s just annoying, actually.”

  Neil started to do it again—but caught himself. She struggled not to grin when she heard him nearly choke on the sound he swallowed.

  “I-I—shit, Chloe!”

  She looked up, meeting his thundery gaze with what she hoped was utter calmness. “You know where the powder room is. Feel free to use it if you feel the, ah, need.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, sending the thick locks into a tangled mess. Despite the wacky hair, he was handsome. She never wondered how she’d fallen for the guy. It was, though, something of a mystery deciphering the exact moment when she’d fallen out of love with him. She’d spent countless hours wondering but had never been able to pinpoint that event. Maybe she wasn’t meant to know the hows and whys, only that it was a fact of her life.

  She’d accepted it. Poor Neil, he steadfastly refused.

  “Damn it—what the hell are we doing?”

  “I’m eating breakfast. You’re yelling at me. I think that about sums it up, don’t you?”

  “You know what I mean.” His tone softened, and to her utter horror he dropped to one knee beside the chair. “Chloe, my honeybee…”

  “Don’t.” The high school endearment sent the Cap’n Crunch flip-flopping in her belly. She met his gaze. “Please, don’t.”

  He shook his head, bewilderment stamped plainly on his face. His eyes tore at her; they were so filled with hurt she could hardly stand to look at him.

  “We were good once.” He swallowed. “Can’t we be that way again?”

  She leaned over and placed the bowl on the grass beside the chair. Her appetite had vanished.

  “It was a long time ago. We were different people then.”

  “Not so different. I’m still me. You’re still you. Come on, can’t we give it another go?”

  She searched for the words—the right words—to make him see how she felt. They’d had similar conversations in the past, many of them, but he still didn’t get it. How to show a man your love for him was long faded without hurting him unnecessarily?

  When Neil placed a hand over hers on the wide arm of the Adirondack chair, she did not pull away. But she did not hold his hand, either.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her voice was soft, and she hoped her words did not sting. She ignored the expression in his eyes. “We have changed; don’t you see that? We want different things out of life, I think.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she hurried on, “I get it—you think you can give me what I want and still be happy, but that’s not happiness. We can force it, but that doesn’t mean it’s meant to be forced. Please, let this die. I can’t stand the way we keep hurting each other.”

  He didn’t say a word before he stood up, turned, and walked away.

  Chapter 22

  Everyone was on the front porch when she went outside. It was a smallish porch, and the floorboards were so warped in one corner that anyone who sat in the chair in that spot tilted forward. Gabby sat there now, with her bare feet propped against the wooden railing for support.

  Last summer, Chloe contemplated repairing the porch, or tearing it off the old house altogether. But as usual, the checkbook wouldn’t accommodate either option, so the shaky spot stayed put. Even a tear down meant hiring someone with a truck to haul away debris, so there was no free fix.

  “Woo hoo, look at my girl!” Uncle Ted whistled when she came through the screen door. It slapped shut behind her, and she gave a small curtsey.

  Dinner would be casual, so her pegged jeans, tucked into her favorite brown suede boots, and lavender peasant blouse were perfectly suited to The Dockside. After their disastrous dinner date, she couldn’t have cared less if he wanted to grab sandwiches from the deli and eat on the beach. She just wanted to get to know him, no dinner reservation required.

  Uncle Ted was not done complimenting her. He attempted a howl, Wolfman Jack style, but it went south real quick. He began to cough, a horrible sound that stole his breath and made his lungs spasm. Thanks to Agent Orange, the once strong man stared at them with tears streaming down his cheeks as he fought to pull air into his body.

  They’d all seen it before, but it was still alarming.

  She went to him, dropped to a knee in front of his rocker, and put a hand on his shoulder. He was wracked with a fresh fit of coughing, so strong it sent shock waves from his body to hers. The helpless feeling that consumed her whenever this happened never grew easier to bear.

  Gabby was through the door like a shot and back in an instant with a glass of water. There was no way to hand it to him, though. He could not hold it, and trying to give him sips of anything would likely choke him.

  Reva and Julia stood nearby. Uncle Ted’s gaze passed over each of them, then settled on Chloe. She held him with her eyes, praying the hacking would abate.

  “Hang on, it’s going to be okay. I promise, it’s going to be okay.” She soothed with her mouth as her mind spun. How much could one man take before his body gave out? That damn Vietnam conflict—not even a war, not even a defensive move for the States!—had ruined so many lives. Shattered hopes and dreams. Left so many struggling to survive, even now, years later. Damn it but the world was so uncool sometimes. “That’s right, it’s going to stop. Just hang in there, honey. Please, stay calm.”

  She heard him before she felt him beside her. His footsteps, hard on the steps and rapid across the floorboards.

  “Looks like my timing is excellent.” Kyle knelt beside her, so close his body pressed against hers. She moved just a bit, giving him room as he put a hand on her uncle’s wrist and checked his pulse. His question, in a low voice, directed at her, “’Nam?”

  “Yeah. Fucking Agent Orange.” She spoke from the heart.

  “Thought as much.” He looked up into the other man’s eyes, which were now bloodshot. She noted her uncle’s lips were tinged blue. “Stay with me, okay? We’re going to help you, just stay with me.”

  He nodded. The big coughing had subsided, leaving a wheeze which grew fainter with every passing minute.

  Kyle spoke to the others over his shoulder. “I need a towel—a big one, a bath towel. And someone go ahead of us and open the freezer door. You know, to the refrigerator. Fast—we don’t want to waste a minute.”

  He glanced over at her as he stood. “I’m going to help him inside. Make sure there’s nothing in our path—we’re coming through pretty fast.”

  She nodded, stood, and turned for the door. Reva held it open. The other two were gone.

  “I’m going to get you up. We’re going inside. Just another minute, and you’ll feel lots better. Don’t try to help me, just let me carry you.” He reached down, put an arm around Ted’s back, and pulled him to his feet. The doctor took the limp left arm, draped it across his shoulders, and began to walk.

  Chloe saw her uncle try to move his own feet, but his power was gone. They dragged along the floor, and tears slipped from her eyes as she met his gaze. His lips were full blue now and he’d stopped struggling to breathe. The wheeze was fainter.

  Running ahead, pushing a chair out of the way and slamming the open bathroom door closed, she cleared the path.

  In the kitchen, the freezer door hung wide open, and Gabby held a big blue bath towel.

  Kyle went straight to the open freezer door and put their faces into the cold fog rolling from the compartment. “The towel. Drape it over our heads. Make a canopy, a tent. We’re going to let the cold air shrink the bronchial tubes. A minute, that’s all we need. The towel—fast!”

  She did as she was told, holding it over their heads. Julia grabbed one edge from her, and together they held it tight against the cold metal frame. They heard Kyle speaking slowly, in a low, reassuring tone.

  It felt like an hour, but was barely a minute before they heard a gasp. Then, a fit of coughing, but n
ot as horrible as the first round had been. They heard him gulp for air, with Kyle coaxing him to breathe slowly and normally.

  The tears streaming down her face couldn’t muffle the sob that escaped her throat. Reva put an arm around her and pulled her close as Gabby took the edge of the towel and held it in place. Chloe let herself be led outside, past the roof construction, overgrown lilac and charcoal grill.

  When her back found the trunk of the enormous oak tree, she slid to the ground, put her face in her hands, and wept. Her friend didn’t say a word but simply sat beside her and rubbed a comforting hand between her shoulder blades.

  Hitching a breath, she finally managed to stem the tide. Rubbing her hands over her face, wiping off the slick evidence of her outburst, she sighed.

  “I hate the war.” Her voice was so shaky it was near impossible to get even four words out.

  “We all hate the war. Nothing but a poor excuse for a pissing contest. Dropping bombs, killing babies…just a way for The Man to show the rest of the world who’s in control.” Reva patted her shoulder, then folded her hands in her lap. Had she been fatter, and bald, and a man, she would have resembled Buddha. Now, she looked philosophically at the branches hanging low above their heads. “No one’s in control. It’s a damn illusion, but we’re all too chicken shit to admit it.”

  Chapter 23

  The dinner crowd had come and gone, so there were plenty of empty tables inside the restaurant.

  Millie, the white-haired waitress, waved a hand at the space behind her when they stepped through the door. Lobster Cove attracted characters of all kinds. Millie was a local celebrity almost, having gained notoriety during an annual Founder’s Day parade years ago. She’d been the now-infamous mermaid who had lost her clamshell bra to the snapping scissor claws of a slightly inebriated crab who rode the same float. If gossip were to be believed, she’d given Andy the Handy Crab a taste of his own hijinks a few months afterward, dosing his Christmas ale with a generous dollop of liquid laxative.

  Peace between mermaids and crustaceans had never been breached again, and the village appreciated a woman who could tame a wild man. Millie and Andy had been married for nearly a decade, and to everyone’s knowledge he’d kept his pincers off his wife’s undergarments.

  “Seat yourselves. Anywhere’s fine.” She whizzed by wearing high-top sneakers on bare feet. It was a dubious fashion statement coupled with the wait staff’s black shorts and white shirt ensemble. “Take a load off—be right with you.”

  Kyle pointed to a table beside one of the big, wide windows overlooking the water. “Over there okay?”

  “My favorite place. That part hangs off the pier.”

  “I know. It’s my favorite spot, too.”

  They walked between tables and around chairs. When they reached the table, he pulled out her chair and waited until she was seated. Then, he sat across from her.

  A candle dripped yellow wax down the side of an already-wax-coated Mateus wine bottle in the center of the table. He pointed to it and shrugged.

  “I wanted to take you someplace a little fancier than this for our first date.”

  She poked a drop of wax with a fingernail and teased, “Oh, so my visiting you in the ED wasn’t a date, then?”

  He shook his head. By candlelight, he was handsomer than ever. The shadows sculpted his features, and his eyes were such a dark brown they seemed nearly black. When he smiled, his teeth looked brilliantly white.

  “That most definitely was not a date.”

  “No? What was it then?”

  He accepted the menu Millie handed him with a smile. When the waitress walked away, he said, “A lesson, I hope. Wearing a helmet on that pretty head is a must if you’re going to be a motorcycle mama.”

  She opened her menu, laughing at the description.

  “Hardly a motorcycle mama, thanks! I always picture a big—I mean really big and wide—woman when someone says that.”

  “I do, too. I just couldn’t think of another bike-riding description that doesn’t allude to Harley Davidson, and you ride a Suzuki.”

  “Ah, that explains it. So, no first date in the hospital?”

  “Nope. And no first date in the hospital when you delivered my car, either.”

  She waited while Millie took their drink orders. When he suggested a bottle of pinot noir, she agreed. After the pre-dinner excitement, a glass of wine sounded excellent.

  “So that wasn’t a date, either. I agree; seeing that little boy on the road—well, that isn’t something I want to remember as part of a date.” She paused, wiggled an eyebrow across the table at him and saw he knew what was on her mind by the look in his eyes. “But you did kiss me, remember?”

  Millie returned with the bottle, which he thanked her for opening. She poured, he tasted, then nodded, so she poured both glasses full. When she suggested the special, grilled vegetables with salmon croquettes, they both agreed to try it, although Chloe requested her salmon be served to someone else.

  The waitress walked away, muttering about a double order of vegetables and saying she’d eat the croquettes herself.

  He took a swallow of his wine. “That moment? When I kissed you? Not something I’m likely to forget. Believe me, a man does not forget a kiss like that.”

  Heat rose from her chest as something began to simmer inside her. He made her feel like one of those molten lava cakes, all sweet and sticky on the outside, hot and melty where it didn’t show.

  “Is that so?”

  He broke a piece of bread off the loaf in the basket between them. Taking his time buttering it, he said, “Oh, yes. It’s so.” He bit into the bread and began to chew.

  Had he been someone else, she might have felt strange staring at him. But they’d already been through some tense moments, and there was a level of comfort she felt with the man. If she read him right—and she hoped she did—he felt the same way.

  Better to change the subject before too much more of her grew hot. If he had any idea she was smoldering beneath his gaze, he did not let on.

  “Um, my uncle?”

  The look turned serious. No more winking or flirting; Kyle was all business.

  He put the bread on his bread plate, brushed his hands together and cleared his throat.

  “Your uncle is unfortunately a casualty of war—that is, he would be had it been a war. I’m sorry his body was so damaged by the chemicals. Has he been like this since returning home?”

  “Yes. But when he first came home, he was much worse. Now, it only happens when he exerts himself. When he tries to do something he shouldn’t.”

  “When he tries to do something his body is no longer capable of doing.” Their dinners came, but neither touched their plate. “He is being seen by a doctor, I assume?”

  “At the VA hospital near Bangor.”

  “Quite a distance.”

  “It is, but his treatment is all covered. He can’t…I can’t…we can’t—”

  “It’s okay, I understand. Medical bills can be astronomical. Let Uncle Sam pay for whatever he’ll pay for. God knows, if it hadn’t been for the ridiculous government position on world issues, there’d be no need for your uncle to have any treatment. But does he have a doctor closer to home, as well?”

  She picked up her knife and fork. “Eat, before your dinner gets cold. You must be hungry.”

  He cut into the salmon, speared a piece and put it in his mouth. A look of satisfaction crossed his face.

  She began on the mound of grilled vegetables Millie had brought. It was enough food for two, maybe three, meals. When she tasted the broccoli, she moaned softly. It was wonderful, grilled to perfection.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes.

  Kyle finished his wine, poured a new glass and topped hers off.

  “So does he? Have another doctor aside from the ones in Bangor?”

  “He does. Right here in Lobster Cove. But I don’t understand why no one told me to stick him in the freezer before.” She placed her f
ork on the edge of her plate. Wiping her lips on the brown plaid napkin, she added, “I’ve never seen him come out of a fit that quickly. It was like magic.”

  He put his fork down and took a long swallow of the wine. Then he steepled his fingers and gave her a serious look. “First of all, don’t stick him in the freezer. Just put his face in the cold air, the way I did tonight. It opens up the passages, shrinks the tissues, so the air can get into his lungs. I don’t know why no one told you to do that; all I can think is it’s a pretty unconventional way of dealing with a very serious medical emergency. And make no mistake, when he stops breathing like that, it’s an emergency. A grave emergency.”

  “I’ve seen him turn blue. I know it’s a life-or-death moment.” A lump formed in her throat. “He’s all I’ve got—the only person in the world I call family. I can’t lose him. Don’t you understand? I can’t lose him.”

  Kyle once again topped off the level of wine in her glass. He poured the small amount left in the bottle into his own glass. He drank it down before he answered.

  She wiped away the tear that had fallen from one eye with her napkin. A nod toward her wine glass, and a small, kind smile from the man was enough to coax her to lift her glass. Drain the wine.

  “Listen, Chloe, I can’t promise you won’t lose him. We all lose people we love. It’s a sad fact of life. But I can tell you that if we can manage to keep the episodes where he’s taxed to the limit, like the one he had tonight, to a minimum, there’s a chance his body will heal itself. He’ll never be able to do crazy things like chase blondes down the beach, but he should be able to live a happy, normal life.”

  “Can you tell me what to do?”

  “Of course. Mostly, it’s keeping him from doing anything to trigger an episode. And, if he’s overcome with coughing, get him to breathe the cold air. You saw how it works almost immediately. Over time, he should heal, and the episodes will diminish.”

  “You’re pretty amazing. You must know that—that you’re an amazing man.” The wine had loosened her tongue.

  He leaned in over the table, lowered his voice and said, “What I know is that I’m finally sitting with a beautiful, sexy woman, and I can only think of one thing. One thing, that’s it.”