mingled with the salty scent of the water. Home. If she’d been plopped here blindfolded, she’d know in an instant where she was, just by the smell.
She glanced around at the familiar faces, and love welled in her heart. She wanted to tell them the truth. She didn’t want to hurt Gran. She didn’t want them to be disappointed in her.
Please, God. She wasn’t sure what to say. Please. I don’t want to hurt them. Please just let me get away without hurting them.
She probably should be praying for the courage to tell the truth and be done with it, but somehow she couldn’t. In a long line of brave Caldwell women, she must be the one exception.
Sammy wiggled against her. “Gran, tell the Chloe story, please?”
Her breath caught. That was one story she’d rather Luke didn’t hear, especially now. “Sammy, you must have heard that story a hundred times, at least.”
He grinned up at her. Sammy’s heart-shaped face came straight from Miranda, but those dark eyes of his were just like his father’s, and just as apt to break hearts.
“But I love that story, Aunt Chloe. Don’t you?”
“’Course she does,” Gran said. “She’s that Chloe’s namesake, isn’t she?” She glanced around.
Daniel groaned. “Have a heart, Gran. Sammy might just have heard it a hundred times, but I’ve heard it a thousand.”
“Won’t hurt you to listen again,” she said tartly. “You might learn something.” She turned her chair so that it faced Luke’s. “Chloe’s beau ought to hear it, anyway.”
Chloe sent a helpless glance toward Luke. He leaned forward, smiling at her grandmother. “I’d love to.”
“Well, it’s this way.” Gran half closed her eyes, as if she saw the story unrolling in her mind. “Years and years ago, before there was a Caldwell Cove, a girl lived here on the island. Her name was Chloe. A wild creature, she was. Folks said she talked to the gulls and swam with the dolphins.”
Sammy slid off the railing and went to lean against Gran’s knee. “Wasn’t she afraid?”
“Not she. She wasn’t afraid of anything.”
Completely unlike the modern-day Chloe. The thought inserted itself in Chloe’s mind and clung like a barnacle.
“One night there was a storm. Not an ordinary storm, no. This was the mother and father of all storms. It swept ships from their courses and snapped the tallest pines like matchsticks. In that storm a boat capsized, throwing its crew into the sea. Only one sailor made it through the night, clinging to a piece of wreckage, all alone.”
Gran’s voice had taken on the singsong tone of the island storyteller. As often as they’d all heard the story, still everyone leaned forward, listening as intently as if it were the first time.
“What happened to him?” Sammy’s voice was hushed.
“He was played out. Poor man could see the island ahead of him, glistening like gold in the dawn light, but he knew he’d never make it. He gasped a last prayer. Then, before he could sink, creatures appeared next to him in the waves, holding him up. Chloe and her dolphins. They saved him. They pulled and pushed him through the surf until he staggered up onto the sand and collapsed, exhausted. But alive.”
As often as Gran told the story, it never altered by an iota. She told it the way her mother had told it to her, and her mother before that.
Sammy leaned close. “Tell what happened to them, Gran.”
Gran stroked his cheek. “You know that part of the story—He opened his eyes, took one look at her and knew he’d love her forever. He was the first Caldwell on the island, and he married her and started a family, and we’ve been here ever since.”
“And the dolphin.”
“He carved for her a dolphin out of a piece of cypress washed up by the storm. They put it in the little wedding chapel, and folks said every couple who married under the gaze of the dolphin would have a blessed union. And so they have.”
Chloe’s throat was so tight she couldn’t possibly speak. It was plain silly, to be so moved by an old story that probably didn’t have much truth left in it. But she was. They all were, even Luke. She could read it in his intent gaze.
“Is the dolphin still there? I’d like to see it.”
Luke must be aware of the strained quality of the silence that met his question. Here was the ending to the story no one wanted to tell.
“Chloe’s dolphin is gone,” Gran said softly. “Stolen one night by someone—no one knows who.” Her wrinkled hand cupped Sammy’s cheek. “But the story still lives.”
Chloe’s father stood, the chair rocking behind him. With a muttered excuse, he walked inside, favoring his bad leg as he did when he was tired.
His departure was a signal. David stood, stretched and held out his hand to Sammy. “Come on, guy. Time you were in bed.”
“But—”
He swept Sammy along, stilling his protest. “Best get some sleep. I need you to help me take Chloe and Luke dolphin watching tomorrow, okay?”
Gran smiled. “Seems to me Chloe and Luke could stand a bit of time away from family.” Her hands fluttered in a shooing motion. “Go on, now. Take your gal out for a walk in the moonlight.”
Fortunately, it had gotten dark enough that no one would be able to see her flush. “Gran, we don’t need to take a walk.”
But Luke had already risen and was holding out his hand to her. “Come on, Chloe. Do what your grandmother says.”
Apparently she didn’t have a choice. She stood, evading his hand, and started down the three steps to the walk. But by the time she reached the bottom, his hand had closed over hers. It was warm and firm, and the pressure of his fingers told her that if she tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let her.
Shells crunched underfoot, then boards echoed as they walked onto the dock. Moonlight traced a silvery sheen on the water. The mainland was a dark shadow on the horizon, pierced by pinpoints of light. They came to a stop at the end of the dock and leaned on the railing.
Chloe cleared her throat. This was amazingly hard. “I’m sorry about that. Gran has certain expectations about what she’d call ‘courting couples.’ I should have warned you.”
He turned toward her. She couldn’t be sure of his expression in the soft darkness, but she thought he was amused.
“It doesn’t matter, Chloe. She’s right, this is a beautiful moonlit night. I don’t mind taking a walk with you to fulfill her expectations.”
It was the kind of phrase he’d use in reference to a business deal, and the language didn’t mesh with the gentle murmur of waves against the dock and the cry of a night heron. He didn’t fit here, and maybe she didn’t, either, any longer. The thought made her shiver.
“You’re cold.”
Luke ran his hands down her arms, warming them, sending a thousand conflicting messages along her skin and straight to her heart.
“We should go in.” But she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay here with him.
“That would disappoint your gran.” His voice teased. “I’m sure she’d expect me to warm you up in a more old-fashioned way.”
Before she could guess his intent, he’d leaned forward. His lips touched hers.
The dock seemed suspended in space, and she put her hand on Luke’s shoulder to steady herself. This was crazy. She hadn’t bargained on this. The shape of his mouth felt firm against hers.
Crazy. This whole charade was crazy, but at this moment she never wanted it to end. Tenderness and longing