Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(98)

At the sign of peace, Father Tim comes off the altar, moving slowly, a kind word for everyone, a blessing for the children. When he gets to the Beaumont clan, he leans in for a chaste hug. “I finally got you in church, Maggie,” he says, and I’m touched to see tears in his eyes. “Right when I’m leaving, but here you are.”

“We’ll miss you, Father Tim,” I whisper.

An hour later, Jonah and I are on the Twin Menace, the brisk breeze ruffling our hair. In honor of my presence, Jonah has placed a plastic chair on deck, where I now sit, sipping a cup of coffee.

“How’s Dad working out?” I ask my brother as he stands at the wheel.

“Not bad,” Joe answers. “He likes it. Loves hanging out with the guys. Better than building birdhouses, I guess.”

“I think it’s nice that you took him on,” I say. Jonah looks older at the wheel. This is a side of him that I don’t usually get to see. He looks manly, in control. Handsome, too.

“What are you smirking about?” he asks, raising his voice to be heard over the diesel engine.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking how cute you are, Bunny-boy,” I answer, using the nickname Christy and I unfortunately bestowed on him at his birth.

“Right,” he says. He waves to Sam O’Neil, who is in front of the Twin Menace in the parade of boats.

“Best date you could get was your sistah?” Sam yells.

“At least my sister’s pretty!” Jonah calls back. His smile is forced and drops off the minute Sam turns away.

The boats space out a bit more as we head for Douglas Point. The memorial is visible even from a distance, starkly beautiful against the backdrop of pines and stone. The mood becomes somber throughout our flotilla; no one cracks any jokes now. Jonah bows his head as we motor past. His eyes are wet when he looks up.

“Jonah?” I ask. “Is everything okay, buddy?”

“Oh, sure,” he says, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He adjusts course a bit, then shoots me a glance. “Not really,” he admits.

“What is it, hon?” I ask. “You’ve been sort of glum lately.”

His face crumples. “Oh, f**k it, Mags. I’m in love with Chantal and she won’t give me the time of day.”

My eyes pop. “You’re what?”

“I know, I know. She’s pregnant with some guy’s kid and…and…” It takes him a minute to get the words out. “It’s just that I thought…I’ve always had a thing for her, Maggie. And now I think I’m in love with her.”

Uh-oh. Oh, boy. Oh, shit on a shingle. “Jonah,” I say carefully, “you didn’t sleep with Chantal, did you?”

He swallows, looks at the deck of the boat, then nods. “I know you told her not to hook up with me, Mags. It was just one time. And afterward, she wouldn’t return my calls or anything. I wanted to start seeing her, make it more than a one-nighter, you know? But she wasn’t interested.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” I mutter, looking skyward.

It has to be. No wonder she wouldn’t tell me. After all those threats, she actually went ahead and did it. With my brother. My baby brother. Whose diapers I changed.

The wind blows my hair across my face and makes whitecaps on the water. We’re close enough to the town dock that I can see the crowds, catch slips of sound. There’s the podium. There’s our bear-shaped dad. Father Tim, still in his vestments, flicks holy water and makes the sign of the cross. Reverend Hollis from the Congregational church stands next to him, doing whatever Protestants do at these things.

I heave a sigh, then get up and go to stand next to my brother and rub his back. He chokes out a small sob. “Listen, sweetie,” I say. “Did you ever ask Chantal if you were the father of her baby?”

“Yeah, of course I did,” he says, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “She said I wasn’t. Said she was sure about it.”

“I think she’s lying.”

Jonah’s head snaps back. “What? Why? Do you know something?”

I sigh. “No. She said it was an out-of-towner, but…well, she just might be trying to protect you.”

“Why? Why would she do that? Doesn’t she—”

“Because, honey, you’re twenty-six years old. And she’s what, thirty-nine? She said a few things….” My voice trails off. “I bet it’s you, Jonah. I think you need to ask her again.”

My brother’s face lights up in a sudden burst of joy. “Oh, my God, Maggot! Holy shit!” He claps his hands against his head. “Holy shit! Hold the wheel, will you, Mags?” He shoves me against the wheel, then goes aft.

“Jonah! Joe! Come on, you know I’m stupid around boats—”

“Chantal! Chantal!” Jonah bellows, cupping his hands around his mouth. In front of us, Sam’s head jerks around.

“Jonah!” I bark. “The boat! I don’t know what I’m doing here! We’re gonna hit Sam!”

“Chantal!” Jonah yells again, his voice breaking. Heads start turning on the dock. “Chantal!”

Sure enough, we can make her out, her red hair as noticeable as a lighthouse beacon.

“Jonah,” I warn, trying to figure out which lever will slow us down, “this is not the time—”