Through the mangroves, I could see a white pickup truck parked, or waiting at the side of the road, with a tarp tied over the bed. The mix of relief and disappointment I felt was blurred by the adrenaline still pumping through me.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “You can tell your daddy that for me. Did you have fun?” I was positioning bumpers so my skiff wouldn’t bang against the dock.
“Guess so. I like your hair. I wish Mama would let me cut mine like that. It’s hard enough just to talk her into letting me wear jeans. Short hair’s better, don’t you think?”
I smiled. “Not if I had braids as pretty as yours. How about a cold bottle of water? Or do your parents let you drink pop?”
The girl, a skinny little thing in coveralls and a T-shirt, showed her missing front tooth. “What’s that?”
“Soda drinks. Pop’s the sound the bottle makes when you open it. That’s the way it was explained to me anyway.” I stepped down into my skiff and opened the cooler. “I might have some juice in here somewhere, too.”
“As long as it’s not orange juice. I’m sick of it. My whole life, everything’s smelled of oranges. Even my room, because we’ve always lived in citrus groves. Oh-and I’m supposed to call you Miss Smith or Captain.”
I told her that using my first name was perfectly okay, and traded her a bottle of water for the orange in her hand. “I like the tanginess,” I said, holding it to my nose. “But I understand. I didn’t grow up in the citrus business like you. Did you get this off one of the old trees out back?”
The girl shook her head no, but her attention was on my boat. “I’d love to go for a ride sometime. I bet it’s fast.”
To the south, distant islands shielded the black catamaran and its driver from view. I said, “Opinions about that might vary… but I guess it’s fast enough. I’ve always liked boats, too.” I pointed to the 37-foot Marlow that sat prettily, with its dark blue hull and white trim, moored on the opposite side of the dock. “I live on that one.”
“Really? I’ve never met anybody who lived on a boat before. I bet it’s nice. Can I see inside?”
“Not if your daddy’s in a rush. Come back, though, and I’ll take you for a ride. Maybe we could even fish a little-as long as it’s okay with your mother. Better yet, invite her along.”
The instant the words were out of my mouth, I regretted the offer. I had no right to intrude on another woman’s family, even in this mild way.
“Mama hates the water,” the girl said. “She hates Florida, too, because of the bugs. Not me. I love the water. I’d live in the water, if I could. Daddy says I swim like a fish.” She studied me a moment in the wise way some children possess. “Did I say something wrong?”
She had correctly gauged the wistful change in my expression. I forced a plastic smile. “A lot of people don’t like Florida. There’s nothing wrong with that. Your mama’s right. Sometimes the bugs and heat are hard to live with.”
“If you don’t like it,” the girl said, “why do you live here?”
“I wasn’t talking about myself.”
“I sure would love to go for a ride in your boat. Are you afraid of sharks? I’m not. Daddy took me to the beach once, and I swam way out past the waves. When I’m old enough, I’m going to learn to scuba dive. Do you scuba dive?”
“I’m like you,” I said. “I could live in the water.”
As we talked, I finished with the bumpers, then stepped up onto the dock. I had to stop myself from doing what seemed natural-offering the girl my hand. Instead, we walked single file to shore.
Kermit swung out of his Chevy Silverado when Sarah was safely inside, her seat belt buckled, and closed the door. We exchanged polite greetings and shook hands in a business-like way. “Talk to you for a moment?” he said. “I wanted to ask you about dock rentals.”
It was an excuse to move away from the truck, which was running, with its windows up. As we walked, he spoke in a low, confidential voice. “I know I should apologize for last night, but I can’t. I don’t regret a thing, Hannah. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“Not another word,” I said. My eyes were on the truck, where Sarah was fiddling with the radio. “It never happened. We both agreed, remember? That’s the way it’s going to stay.”
“Come on, Hannah. Talk to me. Please?”
“I am talking to you. You’re not listening.”
“Admit what happened and I will. You can’t pretend-”
“I’m not pretending. We’re done with this. I don’t blame you, I blame myself, and that’s all I have to say.”
I started toward my boat. He took a step and blocked my way. “Okay, okay. I keep telling myself it was just a one-night thing, but… why do you think I was in a rush to leave before you got here? I knew if I saw you, I would-”
I said, “Bring the subject up again, Kermit, we’re done even as friends. I mean it.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes, I am.” With my chin, I indicated the truck. “That girl’s more important than any six of us, and I won’t play a role in hurting your child. I’m sorry about what went on between us, I truly am. Don’t make it any worse.”
His face flexed with sun lines. “Worse? I can’t imagine it getting any better-but I’m coachable.”
The humorous way he said it was so unexpected, I softened a bit.
“Finally,” he said. “A smile.”
“You’re a mess, Kermit.”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t been thinking about me, too.”
“You don’t want hear what I’ve been thinking about,” I said, and shooed him toward the truck. “Go on, now, and behave yourself. It was just a kiss, for heaven’s sake.”
That was nearly true. One polite kiss had led to a much longer kiss that spanned long, foggy minutes of consent, then a few woozy seconds of exploration, before I had finally said, “Enough,” and sent him away.
Kermit, serious now, said, “It meant a lot more than that and you know it. Can I call you tonight?”
I looked at the ground, then into his eyes. “I won’t answer if you do.”
“Even if it’s to talk about that?” He meant the orange I was holding.
“Kermit, I’m all wrung out-you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. Please don’t push. Why can’t you let things go?”
“Tonight, around seven,” he said. “You can tell me about your day, and a thousand other things I want to know about you.”
“I’m not going to warn you again,” I said. “Don’t stop here again, and don’t call me. Give us both a month to realize how stupid it was, what we almost did.”
“Almost?”
“You heard me!”
He said, “A month’s not going to change anything. We’ll discuss it tonight. After that, if you don’t change your mind… But you will.” He looked toward the truck, Sarah inside. “She likes you, I can tell. You’re both beautiful tomboys.”
This infuriated me.
“Don’t you dare play that card,” I said, and strode away.
Loretta was on the porch, watching. I didn’t have to see my mother to know. Even from the dock, I could feel the tension created by her presence, and the critical workings of her mind.
A phone call to Birdy spared me for half an hour. After telling her about the run-in with Yosemite Sam, my deputy friend said, “Text me the photo of the guy and I’ll run the numbers on his boat. Legally, I can’t share what I find out, but who knows what I’ll do after a bottle of wine?”
“There’s something else that happened,” I said. I gave her an edited version of my evening with Kermit and the conversation we’d just had. I answered a dozen questions before asking her to promise to intercede if I weakened.