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THE COP & THE MERMAID
By
Connie Keenan
© copyright by Connie Keenan, Oct. 2007
Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, Oct. 2007
ISBN 978-1-60394-032-0
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Prologue
"You don't know, Jenny. Maybe you'll decide you don't like Florida after all … and come back here." Tommy Maurer gazed at her, his expression hopeful. "I mean, this is your home, right?"
Nerves or excitement, most likely a combination of both, brought a burst of laughter from Jenny Bryant. That day had had such a dreamlike quality to it, even with all the reminders that this was no dream. This was reality. It was really happening--the airport, the planes that could be seen taxiing to their gates through the huge windows, the plane ticket and boarding pass clutched between her hands.
How long had it been since she'd been that happy? Since she'd had so much to look forward to?
"This is always going to be my home, Tommy," she assured him. "I'll miss everybody. But I know I'm going to love Florida. I almost can't even wait to get there."
Again she laughed. Even to her, she sounded like a little kid that had been let loose in a toy store. Yet, she wasn't a child anymore. She was eighteen and bound for college, bound for adventure, too.
Uncle Cam and Aunt Louisa, who for all intents and purposes had been like her own loving parents for the past four years, taking her in after her father died, had thrown her a going-away party. At the last minute her uncle had been unable to drive her to the airport. No need to worry, though, because Tommy had come to her rescue.
"You're in more of a hurry to leave us than we are to see you go," he teased.
She smiled, tilting her head back to look up at her longtime friend. "Oh, that's not true."
"It's--it's not that I'm not happy for you, Jenny. I really am. I'm proud of you."
That drew her attention. She swelled, never having heard those words--I'm proud of you--from anyone other than her father and aunt and uncle.
"And this is such a great time, huh?" She sought to include him, letting him know she was also proud of him. "Look--you just graduated from the academy. I have to come back and visit. I want to see you in your uniform. See that patch on your shoulder that says," she paused to trace an invisible patch on the sleeve of his old gray sweatshirt, "WINDY HARBOR POLICE DEPT."
That at least made him laugh, the way she pronounced department as dept. She felt an unexpected ripple in her abdomen, imagining him in the full uniform of a patrolman. And something else--a wave of concern, quickly subdued. Just at the thought of her tall, lanky friend, only a couple years older than she was, possibly being injured in the line of duty. Or worse.
Tommy lowered his head and shuffled his feet. "You gonna write to me, right? Keep in touch?"
"Sure, I will!" She stopped, listening to the airline's announcement over the PA system and automatically consulting her boarding pass. "Oh--they're calling my row. 'Bye, Tommy."
The embrace was supposed to be quick, a goodbye expressed physically. But it seemed he held her tighter than he'd ever held her, for seconds longer than Jenny could remember him ever holding her … which was rare.
They were friends. Platonic friends. There was a time--should she tell him about that? Now there was no time, with the future hurrying her--when she'd wished they'd been more.
And there was something that she could never have told him. Something about herself that Tommy Maurer, like most people, would have laughed at initially.
Or maybe, if he'd reacted as she had the first time it had happened, he would have recoiled from her in fear.
"Tommy, I have to go."
Only then did he release her. Adjusting the strap of her carry-on on her shoulder, Jenny turned swiftly and followed after a stream of people making their way through the gate's doorway. That was the gate that led to more than just a plane and her flight to Florida, where she would be staying with Holly, Uncle Cam, and Aunt Louisa's daughter, who had resided in Key Largo since she had left for college.
"Jenny!"
Responding to the urgency in her friend's voice, she turned. "Yes, Tommy?"
She noticed him swallowing hard, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans and pulling them out again. He looked … lost. What was worse, if she gazed at him for too long--what?
Would you stay? she asked herself, confusion setting in.
"Jenny ... I miss you already."
"Tommy?"
Had that been a crack in his voice? And what was that moisture in his eyes?
She couldn't tell because he'd turned rapidly, his long legs carrying him fast until he disappeared in the crowd of people.
Shaken but determined, she found her seat on the plane, a window seat because she hadn't flown in such a long time, and she liked to watch the take-off and the landing, and she liked the way the earth looked, like sections of a jigsaw puzzle, from up there in the clouds.
This was exciting. Going away to school in an entirely new state, one surrounded by the ocean on almost every side of it--the Atlantic on the East, the Gulf on the West. Wherever she went in her life, wherever she lived, there had to be an ocean or a sea close by. That had been a prerequisite in her life ever since that summer morning when she was fourteen, that same year that her father had died.
Daddy. It was Jenny's turn to swallow hard, tasting the salt of tears at the back of her throat.
He was the only one missing from that wonderful day, the only one who wasn't seeing her off to chase her dreams.
This is exciting. This isn't sad! she scolded herself.
But she found herself looking through that window right before the plane taxied away from the gate, trying to see Tommy Maurer, who of course was nowhere to be found, through those airport windows.
The same Tommy Maurer she had loved for most of her teen years, though she had never shared anything more than a friendship with him. Had he known the truth about her, the secret that she'd successfully kept from everyone she knew, with the exception of her aunt and uncle, maybe they wouldn't have even shared that much.
Yet, that was a secret she would continue to keep for as long as she could.
Jenny watched as the plane freed itself from the confines of the earth, taking her away from Maine, thinking about how she missed Tommy Maurer already, and the way he'd held her with all his might.
Chapter One
It could have been the sun's glare coming in through the parked cruiser's windshield or the smoky tint of the coffee shop's window, but Officer Tommy Maurer thought that young girl inside looked an awful lot like his daughter.
Hard to tell, of course. She had her back to him, perched on one of the stools in front of the counter. Skinny, just like Sierra, and he was keeping an extra vigilant eye on her for that reason, to make sure she ate well. You never knew with kids these days. Her long hair was up in a floppy, carefree ponytail, about the same length and color of his daughter's. Tommy realized that was her favorite short-sleeved, pink summer top--Sierra couldn't get enough of pink lately, any flavor of that color--and those were the jeans she usually wore, though she had a closet full to choose from.
When she rotated on the stool and gave him her profile, he knew that was his little girl for sure … turning to face a boy who looked to be a little older, maybe sixteen or so. The boy, Tommy noticed, had those arms of his wrapped tight around her slender little waist.
And then the kid leaned forward to kiss her. Little peck, nothing major. But that boy's mouth was on Tommy Maurer's little girl's mouth. His innocent, sweet baby, his only child.
Time to make sure young Romeo cooled his jets.
Speedily getting out of the cruiser, Tommy slammed the driver's side door a bit harder than necessary. Good thing he'd decided to drop into the coffee shop for a cup of joe when he did. It had been a slow morning, not much going on. No calls from the dispatcher, just one warning he'd given a driver for having a lead foot in a twenty-five-mile-per-hour zone. He glanced at his watch as he pulled open the shop's door, filling the doorway with his six-foot-two, one hundred and ninety pound frame, all the more intimidating dressed in his patrolman's uniform.
On top of everything, weren't they supposed to be in school? He tried to recall, considering it was June, and the schools were wrapping up for the year. When was the last day again? Lots of half days during those last couple of weeks. That was a bonus for the teachers and other school folks, Tommy assumed, yet it also meant the young and the restless were about to become the young and the restless driving the grownups crazy.
"Hey, baby!" he called out cheerfully in his rich baritone voice. "Fancy meetin' you here at this hour, huh?"
Sierra giving a startled little jump didn't escape him. Tommy grinned as he chose a stool to sit, effectively sandwiching the boy in between his daughter and himself. Even before the kid turned around, he pulled his arms from around Sierra's waist, nervously wiping his hands on his pants' legs.
Good, Tommy thought. A bad sign would've been if his presence hadn't made the boy nervous.
"Hi, Daddy," Sierra greeted him. "Wazzup?"
"Nothin' much, lady bug. Wazzup with you?" He gave the boy's shoulder a couple of very firm pats. Might as well get right down to business, time was a-wastin'. "And who's your friend here?"
The kid whirled around on his stool, quick to offer his hand. "Hello, sir. I'm just a friend of Sierra's."
Tommy accepted the handshake, not liking how the boy didn't appear too comfortable looking him in the eye. "Just a Friend of Sierra's. That's … a pretty unusual name. Bet it's hard to fit on your driver's license." He narrowed his eyes at the boy, leaning ever so slightly closer. "Actually, you're not old enough to drive yet. Right?"
"Not yet. Next year."
"Yeah, well. Sierra's got a couple years before she gets hers. She's only fourteen. You know she's only fourteen, right? Now your name is …?"
"Chris Vogel. And--wow, look at the time!" the boy exclaimed, a moment before consulting his own watch. "I gotta get to work. See ya later, okay, Sierra?"
Sierra, who'd kept her gaze fixed on the glass of soda she'd been sipping through a straw, hastily looked up. "Yeah, see ya, Chris."
"Yep, see ya, Chris! Good to meet you and all that, son."
"Good to meet you, too, Mr. Maurer. Sir."
Some satisfaction came to Tommy in seeing the kid dash out of there like the place was on fire. He guessed that young Mr. Vogel had gotten his point--Find yourself some cute little sophomore to romance and keep your grubby little hands off my little girl, who would be entering Windy Harbor High School as a freshman in September.
Sierra set down her glass, her ponytail bouncing as she shook her head vehemently and complained, "Daddy, if the idea was to embarrass me, you succeeded."
"Excuse me, young lady." Shifting onto the stool vacated by the boy, he wagged a finger at her. "The idea was to make sure he knew he'd better not dare kiss you again. He kisses you again and paws you like that, whether in public or in private and I hear about it or see it, he's got me to deal with. He's got no business kissing you. And you have no business being kissed. That understood?"
One of the shop's proprietors, Maxine, had evidently witnessed the entire thing from the other side of the counter. Max and her husband Hugh were an older couple, old enough to be Sierra's grandparents. They had owned and run the Magnolia Lane Coffee Shop even before Tommy had been a teenager trying to steal a kiss from a girl over sodas after school. The woman didn't interfere in the father-daughter discussion, only smiling and nodding at Tommy.
"Coffee, honey?" she asked.
"Yeah. Thanks, Max," he replied.
"To stay or to go?"
"To go."
Sierra waited until the woman had walked away before drawing closer to her father. She looked like she was about to say something, then changed her mind and sullenly shook her head.
Tommy folded his arms on the counter, taking a few moments to study her. Amazing, how much that child looked like her mother. That was her brunette mother's complexion, darker than Tommy's, which complemented his dark ash blond hair and gray-blue, hooded eyes. The more she grew, the more Sierra displayed not only Lori's looks and diminutive stature, but her mannerisms, as well. About the only thing she'd inherited from her dad was her stubborn streak.
"What were you going to say?" he prompted, his mood softened.
"Nothing. I think we're going to the movies later. There's not much else to do here unless we hang out at Angie's house."
"That's not true. There's stuff to do. I mean, besides swap spit with an older man." He raised his eyebrows at her cross expression, finally drawing a giggle out of her. "What do you have a beach for?"
"I'd like to know that, too. It's too cold for the beach right now. The water's still freezing."
"Doesn't mean you can't do stuff like play volleyball. Or go for ice cream or hunt for seashells."
Sierra rolled her eyes at him. "Hunt for seashells. Right. Daddy, I'm fourteen--not four."
"I know."
A doleful silence fell over them briefly. Tommy contemplated how fast the years had flown between both of those ages. It didn't seem all that long ago since she'd been such a little one, greeting him at the door when he came home from a day on the beat, and the big thrill of her day was getting tossed and whirled around in the air by Daddy.
"Well, there's Windy Harbor's birthday celebration. Starts tonight and goes all weekend. Lotta fun stuff you can find to do there."
"Shhhhhhhhhuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrre." The word emerged as one long, incredulous drawl. Sierra watched Max place the container of coffee in front of her dad, who paid for both his coffee and her soda. "Can't wait till I graduate. I'm going to love going to school in New York. I wanna wake up there every day. The City that Never Sleeps."
"Ah, well. Don't be in such a hurry to leave me." Seeing her slip off the stool, Tommy tapped a finger against his left cheek. That was their little signal, which Sierra interpreted instantly, obliging with a kiss on the same spot he'd indicated. "Be home for dinner, okay?"
"Okay."
"And don't let me catch any boys kissing you anymore. You got time for that later."
She stopped halfway to the door, eyeing him over her shoulder. "Yeah? Like when?"
"I don't know. Come back when you're thirty. We'll talk about it then."
After she left, Tommy's gaze was drawn by movement to his right, where Max was clearing away a plate with muffin crumbs and a cup with a tea bag resting on the saucer, left by a customer who'd already left. They had also left behind The Windy Harbor News, folded meticulously to the local paper's Living section. Absently he read the caption over the article, IT CAME FROM THE SEA: MERMAN SIGHTED BY LOCAL FISHERMEN.
Tommy squinted at the words directly below it: And the mythical creature has visited our waters before. A few paragraphs down there was an artist's rendering of that creature, apparently the male version of his more well-known counterpart, the mermaid. Odd-looking thing, half man and half fish, with the obligatory mane of long hair that Tommy humorously noted to himself made him look like he belonged in either a rock band … or on a can of tuna.
"Interesting, huh?" Max asked. She waved the newspaper at Tommy, offering it to him, chucking it in a nearby trash bin when he shook his head. "I wonder what those boys were drinking out there on their boat?"
"Hey, that's not fair. Who's to say those guys didn't see a mythical creature? Whether they were drinking beer or not."
With mock sternness, Max cocked an eyebrow at Tommy's mischievous smirk. "I suppose it's possible. That's true that it's not the first time somebody's seen--or they think they've seen--a mermaid or a merman out there. I remember this old captain of a lobster boat telling my father, swearing up and down, that he'd seen a beautiful mermaid one morning. Not that far from shore, either. Folks just thought he was crazy. And old."
"How long ago was that?"
"Well, let's see … I was a little girl. So it was at a time when the dinosaurs outnumbered the mythical creatures on the earth."
Tommy chuckled. He took a taste of his coffee, fixed just as he liked it, milk- and sugar-wise, by Max. "I never heard of a merman. Imagine that--a boy mermaid. That's new, at least to me."
"Mermaids have a little help making baby merfolk, you know. They have to replenish the sea with their kind, all these thousands of years they've been sighted by sailors. The males of the species are good for something. I guess." Max was on a roll with her teasing. She gave the counter a few swipes with a rag, adding more seriously, "Speaking of males … not my place to advise you, but you do know that if you tell that little girl of yours not to see that boy at all, by making him off limits you're also making him more fascinating to her, don't you?"
Pushing his policeman's hat up slightly, Tommy scratched his head. He drawled, "Really hard, being a single parent. Doing this without her mom. And now we're at an age where it's even tougher. Doesn't help that she just told me--again--that she can't wait till she turns eighteen and runs away to New York."
"Runs away or leaves for college?"
"There's a difference?"
"You're doing a great job, Tommy. You're a fine dad," the older woman, who had known his parents and always been rather motherly toward him, was quick to assure him. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you something. You know who came back to town, now that you mention leaving for college? Remember Jennifer Bryant?"
Tommy did a double take, meeting Max's eyes with his own. Several years--make that many--had passed since he'd last heard that name, but it was unclouded by the time that had passed in his memory. Still, rather than react with clear recognition, he gave himself a moment to lick his lips and play it cool.
"That's, uh ... the Jennifer Bryant that lived here with her aunt and uncle?" he asked.
"That's the one. Remember? The one you were crazy about." That was Max, never one to mince words. "She was living down in Florida for a number of years. Got married there, had a son. The son met a gal who lives up here in Maine, so in love that he followed her up here. His mom recently moved back here to be close to him."
"Ah." Tommy took another long, thoughtful sip of his coffee, giving Max a chance to fill that lull in their conversation with some more information. Something specifically about whether Jennifer Bryant had returned to Windy Harbor with or without her husband.
Why should that matter? he asked himself in the interim. Mostly he was just being curious. All those years that had passed since the last time he had seen Jenny, a time he couldn't even recall precisely, were water under the bridge anyway. This was more a typical sharing of scuttlebutt session between him and Maxine, who loved sharing tidbits she collected about people in town.
"Must be, uh, real different for her," he said finally to ease the silence, broken only by the sound of silverware clinking at a nearby booth where an older couple ate and talked, and the door opening as another customer breezed in. "Coming here from Florida."
"I'm sure it is. She was one of those kids who couldn't wait to spread her wings, find her way out here. From what I hear, though, she's happy to be back."
"Well, that's good. Maybe that means she's grown up some after all these years." No matter how lightly, how matter-of-factly Tommy had made the statement, Max still responded to it with a knowing smile.
A smile that said, in effect, Get over it, Tom Maurer.
That had to mean, he mused to himself as he stepped out of the shop and headed to the cruiser, his keys in one hand and the cup of coffee in the other, that Max suspected a small part of him--very small, but it was there--was excited about maybe running into his old teenage crush. Jennifer Bryant couldn't have been called anything more than that to him, since he had never been her boyfriend. Lord knew Tommy had wanted that place in her heart, almost ever since he'd first laid eyes on that cute little freshman, but it had never happened.
And for the record, since it didn't make a difference now anyhow, he did recall the last time he had seen Jennifer. He remembered everything about that afternoon clearly, that day in late August right before she boarded a plane bound for the Sunshine State and her new life, which included neither their sleepy little Maine hometown nor him. In his mind's eye Tommy could still see the face of that sweet, pretty eighteen-year-old, dressed in a flowing sundress with her dark, long hair cascading halfway down her slender back, wishing him luck with his new job in the Windy Harbor Police Department and barely containing her own excitement about seeing what the world was like beyond the confines of that tiny, little dot on the map.
And Tommy recalled having gotten in that secondhand red pickup he'd owned at the time and driving off, not knowing where he was going, but halfheartedly congratulating himself for having refrained from pleading with her to change her mind about leaving him forever.
Now the girl was back, or rather, the woman. She wasn't a girl anymore, and hadn't been for some time. He was forty-five now, and that made Jenny forty-two. So many seasons and so much living had passed between them that it would be pleasant, even sort of nostalgic, seeing the girl who'd once reigned as the princess of his heart again, but that was about it.
Or so Tommy told himself as he leisurely drove the cruiser back onto the avenue, trying not to notice a long-forgotten spark of excitement rising up from somewhere deep inside him.
* * * *
If time was a book, then Windy Harbor had gotten caught within the pages of the first few chapters, remaining very much the way it had been years ago, perhaps if anything a bit worse for the wear.
However, that was hard to tell that Saturday afternoon during the town's weekend-long birthday celebration. Almost as if it had a human side to it, Windy Harbor seemed to revel, if not completely thrive, in all the attention being lavished on it by its modest population, most of which had turned out for the event.
It had been just like, Jenny Bryant recalled as she paid for two orangeades from one of the concession stands set up on the ample grounds of the town square, that last celebration she had attended before leaving for what turned out to be the next chapters of her own life. Except if memory served her right, the music flowing through the air had been along the lines of rock and roll, while now there was hip hop and some alterative rock bands streaming through the speakers set here and there in the square. Some of the faces, too, were recognizable to her, although most belonged to total strangers.
One face sweetly known to her, even if more lines and creases had been added by the passing of time, belonged to her Uncle Cam. The man hadn't replaced her father--no one, not even he could have filled those shoes. But he'd been a loving and cherished substitute for those four years Jenny had lived with him and his wife, her aunt. He sat, awkwardly fitting into that fold-up lawn chair his niece had brought along for his comfort, watching the crowds at the concession and game stands and the children and teens lined up, tickets in hand, for the carnival-style rides. Uncle Cam was scoping out two other familiar faces, which had brought the curve of a smile to his mouth.
"Something cool and refreshing," Jenny said, handing him one of the cups in her hands, "on a sweltering day like today."
"Ah, thank you, sweetie!" her uncle exclaimed, downing a big sip. "I was so thirsty. I should have made a toast with you …."
"Oh, not too late for that." She crouched down at his side and held her cup closer to him. "Happy Birthday, Windy Harbor. May it have many more."
"Eh, I'd rather drink to you and my grandson. I can't tell you how much it means to me, having you two here, close by. There's nothing like family."
"That's true." Jenny took a thirst-quenching sip from her cup. "I would have come back here sooner, Uncle Cam. The only thing keeping me in Florida is right over there … with that gorgeous girl."
"That gorgeous girl that he found on the computer. You can find anything on the computer these days, huh?"
Jenny chuckled. It was uncomfortable, remaining in that position, even for a woman who exercised regularly. She rose to her feet and smoothed out the fabric of her denim skirt.
"Well, he found her on the computer but as it turned out they went to the same college," she said. "Thinking of trying it? I think you can find yourself a hot girlfriend on one of those matchmaker sites."
"I wouldn't mind trying. 'Course, I have to learn how to turn the damn machine on first. As if I've ever had any use for a computer. I know that's different for you and Tyler."
"Hmmm. He's more techy than I am, though. He'll help you out if you'd like."
"Ehhh ... I'd appreciate the help."
She smiled down at him. Jenny knew her uncle well enough to know that he wasn't pushing it, but he was serious about finding a lovely companion roundabout his own age. That was a good sign, since her aunt had died six years ago following a long struggle with cancer. Her Aunt Louisa, the love of Cam's life, both a wife and a friend to him for over thirty years. The fact that he was entertaining the thought of allowing someone new into his life was proof that, slowly but surely, her father's brother was healing from his loss at last.
That was how Daddy would have looked, the thought occurred to her as she gazed at him, still looking out at her son and his girlfriend.
Her father, who had died so young. He'd been just like Uncle Cam--as tall and lanky, with those long, grasshopper-style legs. Her uncle had the same laugh, that chuckle that seemed always to her to be how all fathers were meant to laugh, infectious and genuine.
"Lots of changes being made for a girl you meet over the Internet," her uncle piped up then, quite out of the blue.
"Well, you know." Jenny sighed. "He's young. You're young, you do crazy things."
"Kind of a nice love story. They met on the computer, they wrote to each other, talked on the phone, they went to see a play together at their school … then she invites him to her hometown after graduation and he stays with her. Forever." Cam shook his head, squinting up at his niece. "And they're both only twenty-two."
"Ah, yeah. Ain't love grand?"
"And you follow right along."
"He's my son. What do I have to stay down in the Keys for? A husband who's begun a new life with someone else? What I do for a living, I can do anywhere. I need to be near one of my favorite people in the world--that's Tyler. And as a bonus, I get to be near another of my favorites. You."
Heaving a sigh, one that sounded of contentment, Uncle Cam reached out to squeeze her hand. Around them was the usual bustle of a Windy Harbor celebration, with the mouth-watering aroma of sausages and peppers and hot dogs and fries in the air, along with the voices of kids and adults as they passed and music and the whir of heavy machinery from the potpourri of amusement rides.
Quietly, matter-of-factly, Uncle Cam asked then, "This pretty girl of Tyler's. Does she know?"
Jenny tilted up her chin, allowing the dust to settle from that question. Not a new question, either, but one either her aunt or her uncle had posed to her over the years. Ever since that one summer, the year her father had died, though there was no relation between those two very different life-altering events in her life.
Across the way stood her son, Tyler, at one of the game booths. At twenty-two, having recently graduated from school with a degree in teaching, he could have still passed for a teenager, with his coffee-brown hair having outgrown its style and his muscular but slim physique. The young guy practically lived on fried chicken, pizza, and mac and cheese, but who knew where he put it all? A handsome young man, in a plays-in-a-garage-band kind of way, with eyes a more intense shade of green than her own, retaining that playfulness of the boy he'd been not all that long ago.
Beside Tyler was Jody. Those two were one fun couple, with her just as childlike as he was. Between the two of them they must have spent ten dollars or more already, trying their hand at the various games of chance, now competing with each other and whoever joined them to shoot water into the mouth of a clown, a motion that propelled animated horses in a race. So far, by Jenny's count, Tyler had won three of the races and Jody had won two, but neither had yet earned one of the large stuffed animals perched on either wall of the booth.
Taking a deep breath, Jenny answered her uncle's question. "Yeah. She knows. She's known from the start."
Incredulous, Uncle Cam stared up at her. "She knows? And it--it has no effect on her?"
"None at all. Uncle Cam, she's … also … you know. It's what makes what they have together so … so strong."
He looked back out at the kids, nodding. "Okay. Well. That explains it. Makes the whirlwind romance make more sense, too. Kindred spirits. Maybe they've been waiting for each other."
"I think so. If anything like that is possible." She patted his shoulder. "Listen, it's been fun, but I have some errands to run. I also have some work to get done sometime tonight, been putting it off long enough. You coming to dinner tonight?"
"I'll be there."
"Good. I'll make your favorite--pot roast!" Smiling, she leaned down and kissed him. "See you tonight, Uncle Cam."
"See you, my dear. Oh, and Jenny, honey …." Her uncle gazed up at her again, his brow creasing with lines of concern. "As always, you know, if you go out there, be careful. Come home to us. You and Tyler."
"Don't worry, Uncle Cam. It's probably safer there than it is here on land. But we'll be careful, anyway."
With some reluctance Jenny released his hand, still the strong hands of a carpenter, a man who'd earnestly enjoyed working hard with his hands, though her uncle had been retired for some years now. She had remained in close touch with him, phoning him and flying him and her aunt down to the Keys for frequent visits. After her aunt's death she'd drawn even closer to him again, knowing that he put on a good show of strength, but that what pulled him through that time was the attention of both his daughter and the niece he had taken in. Now, being back in Windy Harbor, they had just naturally become a part of each other's lives again, even though she now lived several blocks away from him in a rented house.
It does feel good being back here in town. That thought warmed her. She wouldn't have believed it when she'd first left Windy Harbor, thinking she'd never come back and she'd never need to, that one day she'd be right back there, living in town and attending that silly, old-fashioned birthday celebration.
And that she would want to be there.
Someone called her name from across the way. That woman in her early forties waving at her through the window of her SUV as she pulled cautiously from the curb and onto the street, looked vaguely familiar. Obviously, her memory wasn't as fuzzy as Jenny's, because she did recall Jenny's name, which was more than she could do. Nevertheless, Jenny shouted back a hello and returned the friendly wave.
Windy Harbor's Town Square was close enough to the beach, only a short walk away, that each and every breeze carried the mystical fragrance of the ocean. That was one thing, a must in her life, that wherever she lived she needed the sea to be as close as possible. As vital as food or water or air, almost like a member of the family, the ocean was an absolute necessity.
Before leaving the grounds Jenny slowed her pace, her attention captured by the little scene in front of the weeping willows at the square's edge. A police officer, down on one knee, cradling what looked like a small puppy in the crook of his arm that rested on the other knee. His uniform was clean and crisply pressed, all except for some smudges of what looked like dirt on his right pants leg. His head was tilted to the side while he spoke to a child, a little guy who couldn't have been more than four or five, with his young parents looking on.
From that spot close by Jenny caught bits and pieces of the conversation, the cop clearly saying, "We can't have you running off to find him, though, maybe going into the street when a car's coming. Then you'd both be hurt. What good is that? Right?"
Though Jenny's chuckle was quiet, the little boy heard it and glanced back at her before returning his gaze to the cop. She adjusted the strap of her cloth tote bag on her shoulder, drawing just close enough for a better look at the police officer.
Him, she remembered. Unlike the woman in the passing car, Jenny recalled his first name if not his last--Tommy. Tommy Something. Inwardly she congratulated herself. So maybe her memory wasn't so fuzzy after all.
"He's not hurt?" the little boy asked. "Don't gotta take him to the doctor?"
"Nah. I don't think so, buddy. I don't see where he's hurt anywhere. No blood." The cop shrugged, smiling past him at the parents. "He sure was running like he was okay, making an old guy like me chase him, so he must be fit as a fiddle."
This time Jenny didn't just chuckle--she laughed heartily. That explained the smudges on his uniform and what appeared to be a minor scratch on his face, possibly by going after the puppy in the brush and getting nicked by a twig or something. Now the one who responded with a glance in her direction was the police officer. Regarding her with a curious squint that turned into an expression of surprise, his eyebrows arched and his eyes registered recognition.
And what followed was a smile, a rather shy smile, like the one that Tommy had usually worn when he and Jenny were just kids.
Tommy … Maurer. It suddenly came to her. That was his name--Tommy Maurer.
He wasn't old, either. He had been a couple years ahead of her in school, so Jenny estimated his age somewhere in the mid-forties. Other than some traces of silver mixed in with that blondish brown hair peeking out from under his hat, he looked pretty good for his age, fit and muscular and … what was the other word she was looking for?
"Thank you for catching him," the little boy said, accepting his puppy from the patrolman's arm. "I'm gonna give him time out when we get home."
Tommy laughed along with the boy's parents. "Well, don't be too hard on him. Lots of people here. He was probably all excited. He's still little, too. You can teach him not to run. And he'll learn."
Jenny watched the boy's mother wrap an arm around his little shoulders and guide him away, his dad turning to nod at Tommy. "Thanks again, Officer."
"Ah, all in the line of duty!" Jenny teased, drawing closer to Tommy once the young family had crossed the street.
Rising to his full height, Tommy stood with his legs slightly apart and his hands on his waist, trying to give some semblance of being relaxed. In truth, he could feel his blood rushing in a way he hadn't expected. Maybe because, though he knew he'd run into Jenny eventually, Windy Harbor being a small town and all, but not that soon.
And the last thing he'd been prepared for was that old excitement at seeing her flaring up like he was a kid again.
"You know what they say," he said, playing along. "It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it."
She smiled. "Do you remember me?"
"Do I remember you? Sure." He let his guard down enough to let that edge of joy into his tone. "And it's great to see you again, Jenny Bryant."
"Oh--you do remember me, Tommy!" She seemed genuinely touched.
" 'Course I do. I'm the one who saw you off. Never expected to see you back here."
"Actually, I did visit a couple of times. Not often, but I came to visit my aunt and uncle. And Tommy...." She reached into her tote, rummaging through whatever trinkets a woman carried in her bag. "Here. Looks like you have a cut."
He ran a hand over his face, wincing at the pain, more uncomfortable than really painful, coming from an abrasion on his left cheek, right above his jaw line. Withdrawing his hand, he rubbed some drops of his own blood between his fingers.
Great. What a way to look when he finally did bump into the girl who'd driven him nuts when they were young. With dirt smudges on his uniform, his shoes scuffed, and a cut on his face.
Why should that matter? You were doing your job, he told himself.
Yep, his job--chasing after an excited puppy. When he was honest with himself, though, Tommy accepted that he wasn't thrown off kilter by any of that. What bothered him, what hurt--even if he didn't have a right to be hurt by it--was the announcement that Jenny Bryant had returned to Windy Harbor, more than once, at that.
Yet, he hadn't been someone, regardless of their awkward friendship, that she'd made a point to see. That hurt. However he had to admit that her touching a clean tissue from a pack in her purse to the abrasion on his face seemed to somewhat ease the hurt.
"Hold it there for a few minutes, Tommy," she instructed. "It's not too bad, but wash it off when you can."
"Hmmm. You sound like a mom," he remarked playfully.
"I am a mom. That's what I'm doing back here. My son's graduated from college and he moved up here, and he can't get rid of me." She laughed.
"You still Jenny Bryant, or ... what's your name now?"
"Jenny Bryant. Still. Again. Whatever. It was Jenny McCollum before, but after the divorce I went back to my maiden name." That act of clearing her throat sounded more like a diversion from an uneasy topic to one she felt more comfortable with. "And I'm sure you're a dad now."
"Yeah. A proud dad of my little girl. Well, uh--she's a teenager, not so little anymore," he corrected himself.
"True, but to us they'll always be little. Personally, I would've liked to have had more kids, at least another one. But it didn't work out that way."
For reasons that would be unwise for me to go into, Jenny nearly added before catching herself. More than unwise--make that insane.
"Hell, I would've liked five or six kids, a whole house full of little ones!" He glossed over that moment of embarrassment, not having caught himself before the word 'hell' escaped through his lips. Tommy Maurer might have been old-fashioned by most people's standards, but he adhered to that old rule of watching his language around a lady. That is, if he could catch himself in time. "Didn't work that way for us, either. Sierra finally came along, though, lucky for us. But then my wife … she died in an accident."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Tommy." Jenny reached to touch that big, masculine hand of his that held the tissue to his face, almost dropped her hand again, but then chose to pull his hand gently away to inspect the abrasion. "It looks better now. The bleeding stopped."
"Uh-huh. Well, thanks, nurse." He grinned, balling up the tissue in his hands, though not sure what to do with it after that.
"Well, I--like I told my uncle, I have some errands to run," she told him.
"Eh--yeah, and I have to run, too."
"It was wonderful to see you again, Officer Tommy Maurer. It'll be nice seeing you around town again, now that I'm back home."
He did a double-take at her, studying her expression. Her sincerity heartened him. "I'm glad you're back, Jenny. You were sorely missed."
A thousand other words tingled in his mouth, just itching to be said. They amounted basically to a world of things that couldn't be said other than in his imagination, which is something Tommy knew he'd be doing once alone in his cruiser.
"That's sweet of you to say, Tommy. Although it looks like this place carried on just fine without me."
She chuckled, and then she did something that came as a total surprise. Standing on tiptoe--had she always been that petite next to him? Jenny looked to be a full foot shorter--she gave his neck a hug and ventured a quick peck on his cheek.
That was allowed, wasn't it? She had meant to greet him that way before, but that young couple had been there with their little boy, and maybe that wouldn't have been such a good idea. Whatever the case, the desire to display some affection towards him, however light, had simply come over her.
As strong, it seemed, as the desire lately to return to the sea.
"I carried on, too," Tommy whispered as he walked away, knowing that was what he was supposed to do. "Doesn't mean I ever forgot you, Jenny."
He tried to will himself not to look back at her, yet he gave in to the temptation to steal a fast glance over his shoulder. With her back to him she was moving further away on foot, which told him that she didn't live far from Town Square and the beach.
In that denim skirt and light, clingy red top, walking in a pair of red sandals, she was the personification of summer, if summer could take on the form of a woman. Jenny was older now, like he was, and the years had only served to add character to her features--classic features that had always been composed of a quiet, gentle beauty, not of a plastic and movie-star quality but something more real and earthy.
And you're doing it again. Lusting after a woman you can't have. The same woman you couldn't have before, damn it.
There had always been something else that he had seen in Jenny Bryant, something mysterious, difficult to pinpoint. Whatever it was, it had always attracted him, and at the same time it had made her almost other-worldly, set apart from the other girls and women he'd known.
Which was ridiculous, nothing more than his imagination working overtime. She was a flesh-and-blood human woman, normal in every way, regardless of what his heart told him.
Nothing's changed. Even if by some miracle she ever wanted you--and forget it, 'cause that ain't happening any time soon--you know what they say. The reality doesn't typically hold up to the fantasy. So grow up already.
Tommy sighed, giving the celebration grounds one more thorough walk-thru, just to ensure that everything was fine before heading back to his cruiser. He'd be getting off soon and going home, where he could relax with a beer while grilling some dinner for himself and his main girl, his little Sierra.
There he was, forty-five and telling himself to grow up. But, and this was strange, while he had stood there with Jenny Bryant, talking to her (and unbeknownst to her, wanting to return her kiss, though he would've been a bit more like a hungry tiger about it, the way she was still revving up that heat in him) it had felt like time hadn't passed between them at all, not a day, not even an hour.
Even sweeter, with that magic had come the feeling of the years having been shaved away … and being not more than a young man again, standing before the girl he'd yearned for, wanting so much to take her into his arms, never mind how impossible the chance of that happening was.
Tommy couldn't resist one last glance back at her, but Jenny had disappeared from his view.
Maybe now that happening--taking her into his arms--wouldn't be quite as impossible as it had once been.
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