had his arms full of baby. And, astonishingly, her voice had turned indignant. ‘Did you know you have a treasure of a boat up there? She’s a gorgeous old clinker-built dinghy, planked in King Billy Pine with Huon Pine and a Kauri transom. What the hell are you doing, letting her rot?’
‘I… She’s old,’ he said, astounded by her sudden passion. ‘My father brought her here before I was born. I took her out a couple of years ago and knocked a hole in her on the rocks.’
‘So she’s been sitting on the beach since then.’ Indignant wasn’t the half of it. She made it sound as if he’d murdered a puppy.
‘She’s got a hole in her.’
‘You’d have a hole in you, too, if you’d hit a rock. That’s a reason for abandoning her?’ She was stalking up the beach towards the wreck, letting him follow if he wanted.
He followed, carrying Michales. She had a really cute butt.
Um… think of something else, he told himself. He’d put a hole in the boat. He was the bad guy?
Michales yelled. Lurched his small body back towards the water. Yelled some more.
‘He wants more swimming,’ Lily said without looking back.
He wants…
He definitely wanted. Michales’s full focus was on the waves.
Alex’s father had taught him to swim. It was the only memory he had of his father—blurred by time but with him still. He was floating in the water, his father’s big hands under his tummy, coaxing him to push off, to see if he could float if his father’s hands weren’t there.
And when he had… his father whirling him round and round, spinning with excitement, calling out to his mother, ‘He’s done it—our son can swim.’
Now it was… his turn?
He walked slowly back into the water, to just beyond the breaking waves. He dipped his son into the sea. He held him under his tummy.
Michales was far too young to coax as his father had coaxed him. But Michales figured out the basics as if he’d been born to the waves.
Balanced on his father’s hands, his legs and arms went like little windmills. He was a ball of splashing, chortling delight. He had no fear. He knew his father’s hands would keep him safe.
His son.
Lily was up the beach, inspecting his old boat.
His wife.
The sensations were almost overwhelming.
But then his thoughts were interrupted. Out to sea, a boat rounded the headland. A cruiser. Thirty feet long or more. New.
There were a couple of men in the bow and they had binoculars in their hands. Or cameras.
Hell, he’d wanted privacy. He might have known reporters would try and get in here.
He lifted Michales into his arms. The little boy must have finally had enough. He snuggled into his father’s bare chest—and here were more of those sensations he didn’t know what to do with.
He strode up the beach to his wife. His wife. She was still focused on the boat.
‘Lily, let’s go,’ he said urgently.
‘Why?’
‘These people… ’ He motioned back towards the cruiser and she glanced at it without interest. ‘I suspect they’re reporters.’
‘So?’ To his frustration, her attention was all on the boat. She’d crouched down to look closer. ‘She’s looking great for two years stuck on the beach. Look at the workmanship. All she needs is a couple of new spars and calking. New expoxy resin. I could make her fabulous.’ The edge of one side of the boat was half buried in the sand and she started digging.
‘Lily… ’
‘I want to see if this is intact. I bet it is. I’m wondering if the sand’s been covering her. Sometimes boats buried in the sand can last for half a century or so before they start rotting, especially if the sand stays dry.’
‘I don’t want these people to photograph you.’
‘Why not?’
Good question, he thought. Because she wasn’t glamorous? Because she wasn’t made-up for the cameras?
She was wearing a cheap, ill-fitting bathing costume and no make-up. Her short-cropped curls clung wetly around her face, escaping from her wetly limp scarf. Did she care?
‘Look at the rear thwart,’ she said reverently. ‘It’s gorgeous. That’s Huon pine. Tasmania’s the only place it grows. It’s a dream of mine, to build a boat all of Huon, only of course there’s so little left. Those babies take centuries to grow. The Tasmanians flooded a valley last century and they’re diving for the timber now. If I could get some… ’
She was lost, he thought, fascinated. She had eyes only for the boat.
The cruiser had come into shallow waters. Two men jumped overboard.
With cameras.
They were photographing as they came, as if expecting any minute they’d be noticed and their quarry would run.
Lily wouldn’t run, he thought. Not the first Lily he’d met. Not the passionate Lily. Not when she had her hands on a sick boat.
Real Huon pine. Her eyes were shining with missionary zeal.
‘Lily… ’
She didn’t look up. He groaned inwardly but gave up. How could you protect someone from herself?
Did she want protecting?
His protectiveness was mixing with something else now. Pride?
The thought was novel but there it was. She knew the reporters were here, but she wasn’t losing concentration. She’d finished digging out the side of the boat and was running her fingers gently round the timbers. Taking in every square inch of the ancient dinghy.
‘Can I fix it for you?’ she asked.
‘It’s a wreck.’
‘It’s not a wreck. Look at these timbers. They look almost as watertight as the day she was made. All she needs is lots of TLC.’
‘TLC?’
‘Tender loving care,’ she said and ran her hands over the old timbers with such a look on her face that he felt…
Jealous?
Whoa, that was nuts.
He was holding Michales. Michales was gazing down at his mother as well.
‘You’ve been usurped,’ he told the
