Still, he shouldn’t be supervised just by a dog. Should she run after him?
No. There were a few people on the beach, and surely they would keep an eye on a little kid. She would just watch. She couldn’t stay attached to Davey nor allow him to continue being attached to her. He couldn’t be the victim in the mess that was her and Paul’s bumbling failed start of a relationship.
Actually, Davey was the winner because he would be much better off with his teacher. Kayla, kind and pretty and healthy.
She looked over at Paul’s silent house and then scanned the beach again. There was still no sign of Paul, so reluctantly, she pulled out her phone and called him.
It went directly to voice mail.
Great, so he was exhausted from his night with the lovely Kayla. “Paul, it’s Amber. I noticed Davey is driving his jeep down the beach and wanted to make sure you knew about it. It’s about 10 a.m.” She paused, unable to think of how to end the call. “See ya,” she mumbled finally, and touched the end button.
There, that was enough to do, right? She had fulfilled her obligation.
She looked down to where Davey had been. He’d stopped doing circles and was headed down the beach again, away from home.
Amber heaved a sigh, grabbed a paper towel, wet it and wiped beneath her eyes to make sure there were no mascara stains.
Then she marched over to Paul’s house and pounded on the door.
To her surprise, Georgiana answered, looking uncharacteristically dirty and sweaty. Ferguson was right behind her.
Neither of them looked friendly, but that was no surprise.
“Davey just drove off down the beach in his jeep,” she said.
“No, he didn’t. He’s playing on the deck.” Georgiana started to close the door.
“You might want to check.”
Ferguson opened the door a little bit more. “Thanks,” he said curtly, and then the door closed in her face.
Well, okay, then. “You’re welcome,” she muttered. She walked slowly back to her cottage and sank down on the steps, waiting to see what would happen. She didn’t want to run after Davey, didn’t want to maintain an attachment that was doomed to end quickly, but she would do it if his safety was at risk.
In fact, it was a little strange that Ferguson and Georgiana were babysitting him. She’d thought Paul said he wasn’t going to allow that to happen much anymore, if at all. But whatever. She didn’t understand Paul nearly as well as she had thought she did.
The back door of Paul’s cottage opened. “Davey! Get back here!” Ferguson’s deep, loud voice rang out, and then the man jogged down the steps and along the narrow beach toward Davey. All that golfing and tennis must have kept him in good shape, because he moved fairly briskly. He soon caught up with the little car and it stopped. He leaned in, obviously lecturing, and then Sarge jumped out. Soon the jeep was moving back in the direction of Paul’s cottage, Ferguson and Sarge walking alongside it.
Relieved, Amber turned to go inside when there was a shout from Georgiana. The woman beckoned to Amber as if she were a servant.
Amber contemplated ignoring her and going inside, but curiosity tugged at her. She blew out a disgusted breath and walked over to the front porch of Paul’s house where Georgiana stood. “What?”
“Wendy said...she said a lot of crazy things at the...at the end. It wasn’t like her.” Georgiana’s chin was trembling. She cleared her throat. “Whatever she might have said to you...well, we’re on it.”
Amber tilted her head to one side and stared at the older woman. “What are you talking about?”
“If she said anything strange to you about Davey.” Georgiana seemed to force out the words. “Just keep it to yourself. It’s not your business.”
Amber opened her mouth to ask a question, and then the pieces clicked into place and she gasped. “Are you talking about...”
Georgiana turned and went inside, her narrow shoulders slumping. Almost as an afterthought, she reached back and closed the door, once again, in Amber’s face.
Amber stared at it, and then, slowly, she turned and walked the short distance back to her place.
They knew. Ferguson and Georgiana knew that Davey wasn’t Paul’s child. And they hadn’t told him, either.
The question was, what would they do with the knowledge?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AFTER MASS SUNDAY MORNING, Mary sat in the pew as people got up to leave, greeting each other, shaking the priest’s hand. At first she was just giving people the opportunity to clear out, because she didn’t have any place in particular to go. But then, even when the crowd thinned out, she found herself still sitting, feeling limp and tired. She drew in the mixed scents of candles and incense and tried to muster up the energy to make her way home.
“May I walk you out, pretty lady?”
She turned and there was Kirk, sidling in beside her, holding out a hand. Most of her close friends were Protestant, if they went to church at all. Kirk was one of the few other Catholics in her group.
She didn’t really want to be around him. Didn’t want to be around people, generally, when she felt this out of sorts. But that was rude of her. She was in church. She smiled and let him help her out of her seat, and they greeted the priest and walked out together.
The wind was cool, and Mary wrapped her coat more tightly around her. Despite the weather, Mary had walked to church, and it looked like Kirk had, as well.
Kirk helped her adjust her coat. One thing you could say about him, he had excellent, old-fashioned manners. “Can I ask why you don’t take Communion?”
Mary’s face warmed. “It’s a private decision.”
Without seeming to hear what she had said, Kirk started mansplaining. “You know, you don’t have to go to
