Until Tomorrow Page 7

  Anger fueled him on her behalf. He wished he was there to protect her. He would damn sure fight for her and show her husband the proper way to treat a woman. He felt helpless this far away because the reality was there was very little he could do. Her words had given him hope and the energy to carry on. Maybe he could do the same for her.

  What harm could possibly come from that?

  6

  Present Day: Beacon Bay, Maine

  Later that evening Emma and Logan sat across from each other to celebrate finding their very first treasure earlier that day by eating a bucket of clams at Salty’s Shack. It was a hole in the wall down by the ocean in a small little nook you would miss if you blinked, but those were always the best kinds of places. The décor was rustic, weathered wood, the seafood fresh, the clientele even fresher. Salty himself had been a fisherman for years until he retired and opened his shack.

  Emma had taken off her pink zip-up hoodie and placed a paper bib over her light blue ribbed tank top. She couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from tipping up. She licked the salty melted butter away and went back to eating more delectable clams, having no shame that she looked as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Her parents’ idea of a celebration would have been lobster and king crab legs at a five-star seafood restaurant, while Logan’s suggestion of clams at a dive was much more Emma’s speed, she was discovering.

  Emma might have been born into money, but that didn’t mean she agreed with all that it stood for. Granted, she enjoyed her luxury apartment and her Mercedes and even her beach house, because up until now the finer things in life were all she had known. But those things were material things that didn’t have any meaning or history to them. After seeing Kathleen’s quaint cottage and discovering this culinary treasure, Emma was beginning to appreciate looking at the world in a whole new way.

  “What are you smiling about?” Logan asked, reaching for a clam, which stretched the fabric of his soft cotton dark green t-shirt. The play of the muscles in his arm was impressive as they flexed and released.

  Her eyes met his and she blinked. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I was marveling over how delicious these clams are. This place is the best kept secret.”

  “Why do you think we keep it that way? Can’t have rich, touristy outsiders crowding in, eating all our food and making a nuisance of themselves.” The deep timbre of his voice was laced with a teasing tone.

  Her jaw fell open. “Hey, watch it. I’m not a rich tourist.”

  “Okay, rich journalist then. It’s obvious you come from money.”

  “You’re one to talk. You’re a doctor. You can’t tell me you don’t have money of your own.”

  “True, however, I didn’t always have money.” He transformed his face into a pensive frown. “I came from nothing and had to work hard for everything I’ve ever gotten.” He blinked. “And I have no idea why I’m telling you this. Sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry. Getting people to open up is my job.” She shrugged. “I can’t help the situation I was born into, but believe me, there are no free rides.” She sat up straighter. “I’ve had to work my ass off to get taken seriously in my profession.”

  “I bet.” He nodded. “Listen, I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t a serious journalist. I simply meant it’s obvious we come from different worlds, but you hiked the land and became one with Maine’s soil today, digging in the dirt with your bare hands, communing with nature. I’d say that makes you a part of this place. The way I see it, you’re no longer an outsider. You’re a temporary towny.”

  “Nice save, Doc.” She snickered.

  “I thought so, Lois.” He winked.

  Thinking of Lois Lane, Emma pondered the story she was investigating. “I still can’t believe those letters.” They’d taken time to read them together while waiting for their food. “Kathleen’s husband William hurt her. It doesn’t take much to read between the lines and know by hurt she meant hit. She wouldn’t have run away unless she feared for her life. The town records don’t say anything about that. They make him out to be the victim and her the scandal-causing outcast. Even her own family thinks that. It’s so sad.”

  “I have to admit I judged her unfairly when I heard she’d had an affair,” Logan said with chagrin. “Back then divorce wasn’t acceptable. But to think her husband might have abused her and the whole town turned against her, taking his side, is just plain wrong.”

  “It is wrong and sad and makes me furious on her behalf.” Emma shook her head. “I really feel a connection to her, like we’re kindred spirits or something. I am free to say and do whatever I please, yet she wasn’t free to be the strong independent woman she so obviously was. I’m sure her husband was trying to punish her by making her stay married to him. I wonder if he hurt her further. It had to be hard to stay safe on her own. There had to be a reason why she survived. She must have had something pretty big on him. Then again, she disappeared, so maybe she didn’t survive after all. I need proof. All this speculating is driving me crazy.”

  “Me too. The letters say she and Joseph were just friends and that he was getting ready to propose to someone else, yet they carved their initials into the tree like lovers would. I’m thinking at some point they must have come to care for one another as more than friends.” Logan wiped the butter from his large hands and then took a sip of wine, looking thoughtful.

  Emma sipped her beer and came to a decision. “Whatever happens, we can’t stop looking. We have to follow the new clue we found with the map and see where it leads. Maybe there are more letters and more clues. I need to know the rest of their story.”

  “Agreed,” he said. “You need to set the record straight, and I need to have an adventure to share with my son.”

  Curiosity spurred Emma to ask, “Speaking of your son, how old is he?”

  Logan’s whole face lit up when talking about his little boy, bringing an endearing softness to his rugged features. “He’s six, but he looks more like he’s nine.”

  “Ah, he must take after you, McGiant,” she said without thinking. She had a bad habit of doing that. Speaking out loud whatever random thought was passing through her mind at that moment. Probably from a lifetime of talking to herself as she worked through a story. It used to drive Mark crazy with embarrassment and disapproval.

  “McWhat?” Logan’s brows drew together in an amused arch, looking anything but embarrassed or disapproving.

  “Whoops.” She laughed and hoped her face didn’t flush as pink as it felt. A firm believer in an honest and direct approach, she decided to spill it. “That’s what I first thought of when I saw you in the emergency room,” she admitted. “Here I was scared enough after having gone through my near-death ordeal with King Triton trying to turn me into fish bait, then I see you standing there, looking like Dr. McDreamy meets the Jolly Green Giant.” She shrugged. “What can I say? McGiant was born.”

  “McDreamy?” His eyes widened, and he looked genuinely surprised.

  Of course, he would have to focus on that part of her admission. “Come on, Doc. You’re a doctor and you’ve got all that going on.” She swept her hand up and down, gesturing from his head to his toes. “You can’t tell me you don’t get this all the time from the single women in town. I bet they don’t even have to be single. I bet you get this from the entire female species in general. I’m surprised you’re still single.”

  His face looked comically confused.

  “Wow, you really are out of practice.” She chuckled. “How long has it been?” Well, crap, there she went again.

  This time a telltale flush crept up his face. “Pretty much six years.” That warranted a big sip of his wine.

  She couldn’t help but gape at him. “You’re kidding.”

  He winced. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  “Actually no, you look like you’re in pain.”

  “You don’t have any filters, do you?” He stared at her with amazement.

  “Unfortunately, no. Sorry,” she said with a sheep
ish expression. She took a big sip of her own drink to shut herself up, but her incessant curiosity won out again. “I’m sorry, I can’t help myself. I don’t want to pry, but do you mind if I ask why? I’m only asking because you have so much going for you. You seem like a great catch. I find your situation fascinating.”

  “It’s okay,” he finally said with a quiet tone as if he were seriously pondering her question. “I’m not sure why I’m still alone. I guess it’s hard not to blame myself for my wife’s death.”

  Emma’s heart melted. “Survivor’s guilt. I’ve heard of that.” She softened her tone. “But you shouldn’t blame yourself.” She put her hand over his and squeezed gently. “You’re a doctor, not God. From what you’ve said,” and what she’d read, “It was a tragic accident. There was nothing anyone could have done to stop the bleeding in time.” A funny look she couldn’t quite read crossed his face, but he remained silent, staring down at their hands. “Look at what a fantastic job you’ve done raising your son. I say it’s time you put yourself out there again.”

  His gaze met hers. “I say maybe you should follow your own advice.”

  She pulled her hand away from his and played with the napkin in front of her. “Kind of hard without closure. My…I don’t even know what to call him. Ever since Mark disappeared, he took my trust along with him. Trust in myself, trust in men, trust in love. And that was only six months ago. I can’t imagine six years. I don’t even know if I believe in love these days anyway.”

  “Oh, it exists. I had it.” Logan sighed, sounding wistful yet full of regret. “Amanda was my soul-mate. I’m pretty sure you only find that once.”

  “Like I said, you never know unless you try.” He really did seem like a great guy. She felt bad he was still punishing himself.

  “About this Mark of yours.” Logan steered the subject back to her in a classic avoidance tactic she knew all too well. “I don’t want to alarm you or anything, but how do you know something didn’t happen to him?”

  Her heart squeezed painfully. “Believe me, I looked into every possible lead,” she managed to get out. “All I know for certain is that he cleaned out his bank account and disappeared. It was obviously panic driven.” She swallowed hard, still having a difficult time processing it all. Was she really that bad to live with? “I don’t get it. We were fine. Everything was good. If he didn’t want to be married to me, all he had to do was say so. I would much rather he have officially ended our engagement than leave me hanging, wondering what happened to him and whether or not we are still engaged.”

  “The way I see it, it’s his loss. It’s not like Lois Lane is a serial killer, so don’t sell yourself short.” He nodded sternly, and she shook her head on a small laugh. “I hope I’m not crossing the line by asking this,” he added almost hesitantly. “If you’re not officially un-engaged, then where’s your ring?”

  “You’re fine. You certainly haven’t crossed the line any more than I have.” She shrugged. “The more you get to know me, you’ll discover I tend to be a bit impulsive. I was so angry when I first got here, that I threw my ring in the ocean the night I found the bottle. As far as I’m concerned, we’re un-engaged, but I’m afraid I will never have closure and be free to move on with my life without telling him that to his face.”

  Logan nodded in understanding. “There’s so much I wish I could say to Amanda. I never even got to say goodbye. At least your Mark is alive.”

  “He won’t be for long if I ever find him.” She downed the rest of her drink in one gulp.

  Logan studied her for a moment before asking, “What if he comes back with a good excuse someday? Have you written him off completely?”

  “First of all, that’s highly unlikely. Secondly, I don’t forgive or forget easily. It would have to be one hell of an excuse. What about you?”

  Logan’s face took on a sad expression. “I don’t think my wife is going to come back from the dead.”

  Dammit! She mentally smacked herself. “I didn’t mean that. I know she was your soul-mate, but she doesn’t have to be the only wife, girlfriend, or whatever you ever have. You deserve to be happy, Logan, whatever that entails.”

  “I could say the same thing to you.” He pointed at her knowingly. “I still have some unanswered questions of my own. Guess I’m not ready to move on until I get closure, either, which will probably never happen.” He stared off into the distance. “I guess we’re both screwed.”

  “Well, we’re quite the messed-up pair, aren’t we?” She blew out a breath that fluttered her hair.

  “Which is exactly why this adventure is so important.” He stared at her with intense eyes that unnerved her.

  “Agreed.” She nodded with conviction while returning his stare, no matter how unsettling it was.

  “We’re going to do this again on my next day off, right?” he asked with hopeful excitement ringing loud and clear in his voice, as if he had a lot riding on this. In a way, she guessed they both did.

  “Was there ever any doubt?” She grinned wide, and he matched her smile-for-smile. Her stomach flipped like it had this morning, but some nagging voice in her brain told her she was fooling herself if she thought it had anything at all to do with indigestion.

  A few days later dawned sunny and calm. The days were getting longer and the mid-July temperatures finally warming up. Logan hadn’t seen Emma for a few days since he’d had to work, and she was researching Kathleen and Joseph’s story. He had to admit he’d missed her company. She was so easy to talk to. He had shared more with her in the short time he had known her than he had with anyone. At times Logan found himself opening up before he even realized what was happening.

  He couldn’t stop smiling as he carried their supplies onto his father-in-law’s boat. Barry kept his thirty-five-foot red and white express cruiser in the marina. The motorboat was meant for entertaining but was capable of having a fishing outing onboard, as well as being fast enough to pull a water-skier. Logan’s son Trevor loved going for boat rides with Grandpa Barry. Sometimes they spent the night on the boat with its social cockpit and roomy salon.

  Logan turned on the radio as he waited for Emma to arrive. He stored some essential supplies like extra blankets and flashlights in the maple finished interior cabinetry, as well as a few snacks, then he secured the cooler in a corner out of the way. The boat was a beauty, with its fully enclosed fiberglass head with shower, mirror, vanity and sink with storage below. Making his way back to the helm seat with flip-up bolster, he admired the molded fiberglass sport spoiler and overhead lighting.

  He thought of his son once more, his mind never far from him, and felt a pang of longing. If Trevor were here now, he’d be out on the extended swim platform or the forward deck sun pad, peeking through the rails. If Logan didn’t know better, he’d swear Trevor had been born with fins and gills. That was definitely a trait Amanda had possessed, same as her father. Living near the water, Logan had learned how to operate a boat, but that didn’t mean he was all that fond of the ocean. Not after nearly drowning as a child. Logan had never been the best swimmer and he’d seen first-hand the damage a jellyfish sting could do to a man, let alone a shark attack. Eying his medical kit secured in another corner gave him reassurance.

  “Am I late?” Emma hopped on board the Mandy Marie.

  Barry bought this boat after Amanda died, naming his new baby after his only child. He adored this boat almost as much as he had her. He never minded when Logan borrowed it, but that didn’t mean Logan didn’t feel the pressure to make sure he brought it back in one piece without so much as a scratch.

  “Not at all.” Logan focused on the task at hand. Taking Emma’s windbreaker, he set it on one of the seats and then handed her a life vest that matched his own. He spotted her hand as she took the vest from him. “What happened to your stitches?”

  “I took them out. It’s not the first time I’ve had stitches, and I could tell they were ready to come out. Several had come loose and my skin itched as it was hea
ling. You did a good job, Doc. See?” She held out her hand for his inspection.

  He studied her palm and had to agree it looked fine, but still. “You’re a piece of work. Has anyone every told you that?”

  “All the time.” She winked.

  He shook his head. “Are you ready to get going?”

  “Absolutely.” She slipped the vest on over her blue and white striped shirt and white cotton shorts, looking every bit the sailor and just as comfortable. This obviously wasn’t the first time she had been on a boat, which eased his mind a little. “At least the weather is cooperating. It’s a beautiful day for boating.”

  “I checked the weather. It’s supposed to be sunny all day, the southwesterly winds only five miles per hour, so we should be good.” He double-checked his own vest that he’d secured over his black polo shirt and tan cargo shorts. He glanced at her feet, making sure she had rubber bottomed shoes on that would be appropriate when walking on the deck. “I packed some extra survival supplies just in case, and we can always turn back if things start to look sketchy.”

  “Relax, Captain Worrywart.” She patted his shoulder. “The island we’re supposed to be going to doesn’t look that far from what I could tell in my research.”

  “It’s not,” he confirmed, “but it’s small and uninhabited. Besides you can never be too careful. I’m a doctor. I always take the necessary precautions.”

  “You can also never be too curious. I’m a journalist. I go where the story is, which can mean leaving at a moment’s notice. Sometimes you have to be spontaneous. Have a little fun.” She swatted him on the butt. “You can’t always play it so safe.”

  He sat there, stunned for a moment, then laughed. “You’re going to be the death of me yet, Lois.”