major repairs, though. Things I don’t have the equipment to do. If you want, I can get one of the ferrymen to bring her up to Tampa for you. Won’t be much tourist trade around here for a while, ‘til the mess from Kellen gets cleaned up.”
At first Sam hesitated, mentally visualizing him and Marcy taking a lazy trip back up the Waterway next weekend, the way he’d planned for them to do today. Then he came to his senses. He had to work, and she did too. Not to mention there was no guarantee she’d want to spend another weekend on the water, with or without him. “That’s a good idea. See if you can arrange it.”
“Sure thing. Make sure you leave a number where we can get hold of you if I run into any problems I don’t see now.” The mechanic disappeared under the stern of the Lucky Lady , apparently anxious to start the makeshift repairs.
“Sam?” Marcy turned to him from the pay phone. “The rental agency will bring the car around in a few minutes. Do you need to call your office?”
“No. I’m signed out to my partners until tomorrow. What about you? Will they be able to get along without you for another day?”
She smiled when he put his arm around her and laid his hand lightly along her hipbone. “I think so. Only pressing thing I had going today was a meeting with Gray Syzmanski . It can wait until tomorrow. It’s not as though his client’s locked up in jail. It took all of five minutes after the judge had set bail last week for the kid’s parents to bond him out.”
“Gray’s a good guy. We work out together twice a week.”
“So I heard from Andi . I’ve gotten to know him pretty well since he’s been with Winston Roe. Of course I’ve known Andi for years.” Marcy’s smile faded, but she recovered quickly and shot him a grin. “Leave it to you to exercise with a guy who’s crippled and can’t push you.”
“Gray pushes plenty hard. Just about as hard as any guy I’ve seen. Wants to keep as fit as he can for Andi and those two kids of theirs.”
“I guess. Look, I think that’s our car coming now.”
There it was. That brittleness he hated. At first Sam couldn’t figure out what brought it on—then it came to him. Gray and Andi’s kids. He should have kept his mouth shut, realized Marcy wouldn’t like reminders about the babies she’d wanted but didn’t have.
Though he should have dropped his hand from her hip, let her get on with her life, he couldn’t. The connection was still there, still too strong. If five years’ bitterness hadn’t severed it, Sam figured nothing would. “Come on, baby, let’s go home.” He opened the car door for her, then strode around to the driver’s side.
After dropping the rental company attendant off, they rolled onto northbound I-75. For a long time they rode along past evidence of Kellen’s decimation, the only noise being the hum of the economy sedan’s tires over stress seams in the road. After turning off the highway and heading through downtown Tampa toward the house they’d once shared in Old Hyde Park where she still lived, Sam glanced at Marcy. From the way she stared out the window at passing cars and wrung her hands together, he guessed she was upset. “What’s wrong?”
“You said we were going home.”
He reached over and laid his hand over hers. “Calm down. We are. We’ll be there any minute now.”
“Don’t you understand? It’s over. We’re going home. Our separate homes, Sam. We’re still divorced. There’s still unsettled baggage between us. Too much for what happened on Cabbage Key to have been any more than a nostalgic interlude. Let’s just say Kellen swept away our good sense, made us face the fact there’s still a lot of feelings that probably won’t ever go away.” She reached up, brushed something off her cheek. “I’m glad we had the chance to be together for a little while. It makes me sad, but I know it’s got to end.”
“It doesn’t.” If Sam had anything to say about
At first Sam hesitated, mentally visualizing him and Marcy taking a lazy trip back up the Waterway next weekend, the way he’d planned for them to do today. Then he came to his senses. He had to work, and she did too. Not to mention there was no guarantee she’d want to spend another weekend on the water, with or without him. “That’s a good idea. See if you can arrange it.”
“Sure thing. Make sure you leave a number where we can get hold of you if I run into any problems I don’t see now.” The mechanic disappeared under the stern of the Lucky Lady , apparently anxious to start the makeshift repairs.
“Sam?” Marcy turned to him from the pay phone. “The rental agency will bring the car around in a few minutes. Do you need to call your office?”
“No. I’m signed out to my partners until tomorrow. What about you? Will they be able to get along without you for another day?”
She smiled when he put his arm around her and laid his hand lightly along her hipbone. “I think so. Only pressing thing I had going today was a meeting with Gray Syzmanski . It can wait until tomorrow. It’s not as though his client’s locked up in jail. It took all of five minutes after the judge had set bail last week for the kid’s parents to bond him out.”
“Gray’s a good guy. We work out together twice a week.”
“So I heard from Andi . I’ve gotten to know him pretty well since he’s been with Winston Roe. Of course I’ve known Andi for years.” Marcy’s smile faded, but she recovered quickly and shot him a grin. “Leave it to you to exercise with a guy who’s crippled and can’t push you.”
“Gray pushes plenty hard. Just about as hard as any guy I’ve seen. Wants to keep as fit as he can for Andi and those two kids of theirs.”
“I guess. Look, I think that’s our car coming now.”
There it was. That brittleness he hated. At first Sam couldn’t figure out what brought it on—then it came to him. Gray and Andi’s kids. He should have kept his mouth shut, realized Marcy wouldn’t like reminders about the babies she’d wanted but didn’t have.
Though he should have dropped his hand from her hip, let her get on with her life, he couldn’t. The connection was still there, still too strong. If five years’ bitterness hadn’t severed it, Sam figured nothing would. “Come on, baby, let’s go home.” He opened the car door for her, then strode around to the driver’s side.
After dropping the rental company attendant off, they rolled onto northbound I-75. For a long time they rode along past evidence of Kellen’s decimation, the only noise being the hum of the economy sedan’s tires over stress seams in the road. After turning off the highway and heading through downtown Tampa toward the house they’d once shared in Old Hyde Park where she still lived, Sam glanced at Marcy. From the way she stared out the window at passing cars and wrung her hands together, he guessed she was upset. “What’s wrong?”
“You said we were going home.”
He reached over and laid his hand over hers. “Calm down. We are. We’ll be there any minute now.”
“Don’t you understand? It’s over. We’re going home. Our separate homes, Sam. We’re still divorced. There’s still unsettled baggage between us. Too much for what happened on Cabbage Key to have been any more than a nostalgic interlude. Let’s just say Kellen swept away our good sense, made us face the fact there’s still a lot of feelings that probably won’t ever go away.” She reached up, brushed something off her cheek. “I’m glad we had the chance to be together for a little while. It makes me sad, but I know it’s got to end.”
“It doesn’t.” If Sam had anything to say about
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