Meg opened the packet. ‘I guess I can do the first bit. Boof, sit.’
Boof sat right before her.
‘Ask,’ Meg said.
Boof dropped to the deck, looked imploringly up at Meg, then went back to sitting. He raised a paw. Please?
Matt almost laughed.
That was saying something. There hadn’t been any laughter in the last two weeks.
But Meg’s face was solemn. ‘Great job, Boof,’ she told him and offered one doggy bit. Boof appeared to consider, then delicately accepted.
And Henry was transfixed.
‘Does he do that all the time?’ he whispered.
‘His table manners are perfect,’ Meg said, giving Boof a hug. ‘Boof, would you like another one? Ask.’
The performance was repeated, with the addition of a sweep of wagging tail. This was obviously a performance Boof enjoyed.
There were quite a few doggy bits.
But Meg glanced back at the wheel. ‘Boof, sorry, you’ll have to wait.’ She headed back to the wheel, and Boof dropped to the deck, dejection in every fibre of his being.
‘Can’t you give him the rest?’ Henry ventured, and Matt could have cheered.
‘If I have time later.’ Meg’s attention was back on the ocean.
And Matt could feel Henry’s tension.
From the time he’d heard of his mother’s death, he’d been almost rigid. With shock? Fear? Who knew? He’d accepted the news without a word.
Social Services had been there early. Talking to Matt. If there’s no one, we’ll take care of him until we can contact his grandmother.
Matt hardly had the time or the skills to care for a child, but in the face of Henry’s stoic acceptance his voice had seemed to come from nowhere.
I’ll take care of him, he’d said.
Almost immediately he’d thought, What have I done?
To say Matt McLellan wasn’t a family man was to put it mildly. He’d been an only child with distant parents. He’d had a few longer-term lovers, but they’d been women who followed his rules. Career and independence came first.
Matt had been raised pretty much the same as Henry. Care had been paid for by money. But he hadn’t been deserted when he was seven. His almost-visceral reaction to Henry’s loss had shocked him.
So Henry had come home to Matt’s apartment. The place had great views overlooking the Hudson. It had the best that money could buy when it came to furnishings and art, but Matt pretty much used it as a place to crash. In terms of comfort for a seven-year-old there was nothing.
They’d gone back to Amanda’s apartment to fetch what Henry needed and found almost a carbon copy of Matt’s place. The apartment was spotless. Henry’s room had designer children’s prints on the walls but it still spoke sterile. His toys were arranged almost as if they were supposed to be part of the artwork.
Henry had taken a battered teddy and a scrapbook that Matt had had the privilege to see.
He’d wanted nothing else.
The scrapbook was in his backpack now. There was panic when it was out of reach, so the backpack had pretty much stayed on for the entire trip. And Teddy... When Matt had put on his oversized sou’wester, Henry had tucked Teddy deep in the pocket, almost as if he expected someone to snatch it away.
A kid. A scrapbook. A teddy.
There’d been nothing else. And Matt had had no idea how to comfort him.
‘Maybe we could feed the dog,’ Matt said and waited some more.
‘Boof likes boys more than grown-ups,’ Meg said from the wheel. ‘Though he likes me best. The same as your teddy, Henry. I bet your teddy likes you best.’
So she’d seen. His respect for her went up a notch.
Actually, his respect was mounting.
Even though it had annoyed him at the time, he’d accepted—even appreciated—her checking his authority to take Henry to the island. And her skill now... The way she turned the boat to the wind, her concentration on each swell... They combined to provide the most comfortable and safe passage possible.
She was small and thin. Her copper curls looked as if they’d been attacked by scissors rather than a decent hairdresser. She’d ditched her oilskin and was now wearing faded jeans and a windcheater with the words Here, Fishy on the back. Her feet were bare and she seemed totally oblivious to the wind.
Her tanned face, her crinkled eyes... This woman was about as far from the women he mixed with as it was possible to get.
And now she was focused on Henry. He saw Henry’s surprise as Meg mentioned Teddy. Henry’s hand slipped into his pocket as if he was reassuring himself that Ted was still there.
‘Ted likes me.’
‘Of course,’ Meg agreed. ‘Like Boof likes me. But Boof does love friends giving him his dinner.’
She went back to concentrating on the wheel. Boof sat beside her but looked back at Henry. As if he knew what was expected of him. As if he knew how to draw a scared child into his orbit.
Had there been kids in the past, scared kids on this woman’s fishing charters? He couldn’t fault the performance.
But there was no pressure. Maybe it was only Matt who was holding his breath.
Boof walked back over to Henry, gazed into his face, gave a gentle whine and raised a paw. Matt glanced up at Meg and saw the faintest of smiles.
Yep, this was a class act, specifically geared to draw a sucker in. And Henry was that sucker and Matt wasn’t complaining one bit.
‘Can I have the doggy bits?’ Henry quavered.
Meg said, ‘Sure,’ and tossed the bag. Matt caught it but she’d already turned back to the wheel.
No pressure...
He could have kissed her.
He needed to follow Meg’s lead. He dropped the bag on Henry’s knee. ‘You might get your fingers dirty,’ he said, as if he almost disapproved of what Henry might do.
‘I can wipe them,’ Henry said.
‘I guess.’
Henry nodded. Cautiously, he opened the bag.
‘Sit,’ he said to Boof, and Boof, who’d stood with alacrity the moment the bag opened, sat.
‘Ask,’ Henry said and the plan went swimmingly. A doggy bit went down the hatch. Boof’s tail
