Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(100)

“Another grandchild, Mom,” I comment as the two of us sit at a picnic table.

Mom swats her arm; the blackflies are making themselves known. “Yes,” she sighs. “And won’t that be nice.”

“Are you upset?” I ask tentatively. “I know Jonah’s your favorite….”

“Oh, Maggie, don’t be silly. Mothers don’t have favorites. Someday you’ll know that for yourself.” She pats my arm. “I’m not upset. It’s Jonah’s life. I hope things work out for him, but it’s really not my problem, is it?”

“I guess not,” I murmur.

“I’ve reached a stage of life, Maggie, where I finally realized that your kids are going to do what they want. My job is done. You don’t need me hovering, do you?”

“Well, I guess not, Mom. Not hovering. But still, we want you involved.”

My mom smiles, then glances at her watch. “Well, I’ve got to get going,” she says. “It’s a long drive.” She kisses my cheek, and I stand to hug her. “See you next week, all right, Maggie?”

We’ve decided to have lunch twice a month, just the two of us. “You bet, Mom. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me, too. Maybe you can get something done about those roots when you come.”

Oddly reassured that she’s still my insulting mother, I wave as she walks off.

Blessing Weekend is over. Families drift to their cars. Tables are folded, grills extinguished. Noah Grimsley is taking apart the podium. One of Octavio’s kids runs past me, calling out a greeting, and then flits away, quick as a hummingbird.

“I’ve come to say goodbye, Maggie.”

“Father Tim,” I say. A lump rises in my throat.

“I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”

“Well. Do you have a replacement yet? For St. Mary’s?”

“Father Daniels will be filling in until they find someone more permanent,” he answers.

“Right.” Father Daniels, now retired, is the priest who gave Christy and me our first communions.

“Take care of yourself, Maggie,” he says, smiling though his eyes are bright with tears. “If you ever need anything…spiritual, that is…”

I laugh and pat his shoulder. “Take care, Father Tim.”

WITH FATHER TIM GONE, the festivities over and everything cleaned up, I go to Joe’s and make myself a cup of coffee. Sitting at the corner booth, I look out at the quiet street.

Father Tim’s era is over, in my town and in my life; the new phase is waiting to begin. And suddenly I feel the overwhelming urge to see Malone. Before I know it, I’m walking, practically running to the dock. The tide is out and the ramp to the water is steep, but the lobster gods have heard me, because the Ugly Anne is pulled right up, not out, not at its mooring, but right there at the end of the dock, as if the fates want me to see Malone. As if it’s meant to be. My feet pound against the weathered boards.

“Malone?” I call out, skidding to a stop. His boat is tied stern to dock, the bow furthest from me. A head pops out of the wheelhouse. Not Malone’s head.

“Hi,” she calls. The new sternman. His daughter.

Her resemblance to Malone is unmistakable—sharp cheekbones, thickly-lashed blue eyes, long and lanky. She’s a beautiful, beautiful young woman. How old did Malone say she was? Seventeen?

Whatever force has propeled me this far suddenly falters. Maloner the Loner is lonely no more. Maybe he never was. After all, he’s had a marriage, has a child, this lovely creature who’s spending the summer with him. He already has his little family. He doesn’t need me.

“I’m Emory,” she says, picking her way gracefully around the coils of rope that litter the deck. She’s wearing cutoff jeans and a tank top and yet she looks like she stepped out of a photo shoot. The lobstermen must be smitten.

I swallow. “Um…hi. Yeah. I’m Maggie.”

“Looking for my dad?” she asks pleasantly. I don’t answer. What am I doing here? I ask myself. If Malone wanted anything from me, he’s had weeks to find me.

Emory raises her eyebrows. “Did you want to see Malone?” she repeats, and I feel even more like an idiot.

“Um, yeah. Actually, it’s no big…deal. I’ll come back—”

“Malone!” she calls. “Someone to see you, cap!”

Malone emerges from the storage area in the bow, wiping his hands on a grease-stained towel. “Aye-aye, skipper,” he says, grinning. He snaps the towel at her as he walks past, and she giggles and leaps away.

God, he seems so happy. Malone of the scowls and lines has what he needs to be happy, and it ain’t me. I briefly consider jumping into the water to escape. Worked for Jonah.

Malone catches sight of me, and the smile on his face falls like a stone. “Maggie.”

I take a big breath and release it. “Yup. Hi.”

He jumps off the stern onto the dock and puts his hands on his hips, and even though his daughter is watching, I can’t help feeling the effect he has on me. My chest feels tight, my eyes hot and dry.

“You met Emory?” he asks.

“Oh, yes. Yup. Sure did. She’s…she’s…beautiful.”

His face softens into a smile as he glances back at the subject of our conversation. I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Yeah,” Malone agrees. “So. What’s up?”