slowed to a drizzle by the time Kane reached Tulley’s Bar. His skin and hair damp, he straddled a stool at the scarred wooden bar and downed a whisky quickly, letting the heat burn his throat while he read the death certificate once more.
Because his old man had been a drunkard, Kane drank cautiously and never set foot in Tulley’s before sunset. Too many times his father had reached for a drink to start his day.
He stared at the amber liquid in his glass while he fought a myriad of feelings. The shock from Rachel’s words settled over him. It seemed unreal, impossible. Marnie was gone. His stomach muscles clenched. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been in his life for more than a decade. He’d believed she was somewhere else, that her life was better than the living hell they’d shared with their old man after their mother had died. But Marnie wasn’t happier. She was gone. He would never see her again.
He wanted to vent anger, but who deserved it? And to give in to a softer emotion never occurred to him. He’d blocked any urge to cry when his mother had died. Losing someone else close to him only reinforced something he’d always known. There was danger in letting the heart feel too much.
So what now? Did Rachel have his sister’s belongings? Who’d paid for the funeral? And what about the kid? Was it really his sister’s? If it was, what would he do with it?
At seven the next morning Kane had no answers. Even before he opened his eyes, he cursed the sound of rain thudding against the roof in a steady, syncopated beat. Through his bedroom window he saw the dreary gray sky. In no hurry he stretched on the bed, then roused himself. Rain had canceled yesterday’s tours. Today the Sea Siren would be stuck at dock all day. Yawning, he yanked on jeans and tugged a T-shirt over his head.
In the kitchen he plugged in the coffee brewer. On the table were the papers Rachel had given him. He unfolded the birth certificate. Heather Riley. He noted that someone had typed the word unknown on the line for the father’s name. The seal of Texas made the document legal. He closed his fingers around it. Calmer now, he could talk sensibly to Rachel. With only half a dozen motels in town, he assumed he’d have no problem finding her.
He gave himself half an hour to nurse a couple of cups of coffee, shower and shave, then drove his truck down Main Street toward the Sea Siren to talk to his deckhand before he started his search.
Instead of going to the boat first, as he spotted Rachel’s van parked outside Benny’s Café, he negotiated the truck into an adjacent parking lot. No amount of avoidance would work. He parked his truck and strolled toward the café. Through its windows, he saw her.
Head bowed, she sat in one of the blue vinyl booths. As he opened the café door, the bell above it jingled. The café was decorated in blue and white. A breakfast crowd, mostly locals, occupied the stools at the counter and several tables. Heads swiveled toward Kane before he shut the door behind him. He received no nods of hello, no smiles. He never expected any.
People believed he was his father’s child, and Ian Riley had ranked low on everyone’s list of favorite people by the time he’d died. For good reasons, they’d claimed. He’d come to town, sweet-talked Kathleen Feenley, and got her pregnant. He’d ruined a good girl. But no one had really objected to him until he’d become an embarrassment, the town drunk. Then Kane had committed his own offense. He didn’t need their condemnations. He damned himself whenever he thought about Charlie’s last day.
Ignoring stares, he weaved a path around some tables to reach Rachel. Though no sun shone through the windows, she looked sunny. He figured it was a visual thing. She wore faded jeans and a bright yellow top that clung gently to the curves of her breasts. Because too many emotions remained close to the surface, he steeled himself when he saw sympathy in her expression. “Guess we need to talk.”
“Sometimes it’s difficult for me to believe Marnie’s gone,” she said with a world of hurt in her voice that made Kane certain she wasn’t giving lip service but was telling the truth. “This must be such a hard time for you.”
“A shock,” he said candidly. He figured that this woman, with her overabundance of kindness and too-caring manner, set herself up to be hurt easily. While he slid into the booth across from her, she angled to her left. Was the baby there? Was it a boy or girl? A girl. He recalled Rachel saying “she” when in need of a place to change the diaper.
“I—” She closed her mouth when Rosie Furnam, the oldest of the café’s waitresses, a grandmother with a love for gossip, came near.
“Do you want something?” She looked less than pleased.
Kane never ate in town, hadn’t for years since Charlie had died. For meals out, he would drive to one of the towns nearby. “Nothing.”
“More coffee?” she asked Rachel.
Briefly Rachel’s eyes met his before raising to Rosie’s questioning stare. “No, thank you.”
Kane waited until Rosie finally sauntered away. “Tell me what happened to my sister.”
Rachel explained what the doctors in the emergency room had told her.
No one’s fault. Those words gave Kane no comfort. He glanced at the wall of windows, away from the soft compassion in the green eyes studying him. He wanted none of it. “You handled the funeral, you said.”
As if it pained her, she avoided meeting his eyes. “We had a small memorial service.” She concentrated on the dark liquid in her cup. “Several people from the trailer court, and former co-workers came.”
He didn’t want to know the details. “Let me know how much I owe you.” When she raised her head, he sensed she planned a protest. “She was my sister.” My responsibility. Except he’d forgotten that, hadn’t he? “And if I owe you anything else—”
“Please. She was my friend.” Moisture glistened in her eyes. “A wonderful friend. I’d have done anything for her. I wanted her to go to the hospital.” She was rambling as if trying to understand what went wrong. “I had money saved. She could have gone.”
Despite years of separation, Kane knew his sister wouldn’t take a handout from anyone. He wasn’t sure she’d have even welcomed help from him. They’d had to accept too much charity as kids. “She always was stubborn. If she didn’t want to take your help, you couldn’t have done anything to change her mind.”
“Thank you. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but—”
“I’m not doing anything,” he countered, because he wasn’t trying to offer comfort. Instinctively her chin rose a notch. Better she was offended. He didn’t need this woman as a friend. If she’d thought he planned to make this easy, she was wrong.
“I was telling the truth. Heather is Marnie’s,” she said softer as if suddenly aware how many people were staring at them.
“Marnie named her?” Less stunned, he admitted now that he really hadn’t doubted her. She’d have had no reason to lie about the baby, and like the death certificate for his sister, a birth certificate for the baby forced the truth on him.
“Heather was the name she’d said she liked best, the one I used for her baptism. Do you like it?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s fine. Who’s the father? He wasn’t named on the birth certificate.”
Rachel toyed with a spoon. “I
