Cynthia Thomason - An Unlikely Father

“I’ve noticed. Quit pushing me.”

“Ditto for me.” Helen scratched Andy behind his ears, grabbed her coffee and her heavy-duty sneakers and headed out the back door.

“Don’t forget to collect from those bean counters ahead of time,” Finn called after her. “They’re obsessed about getting their money’s worth. I don’t want them reneging if they don’t catch anything.”

“Right.” Helen walked toward the Finn Catcher. It was true what she’d told Finn. She had some serious thinking to do. Three or four charters a week barely kept the business in the black. She certainly couldn’t support another mouth on what she currently brought in. And what if she couldn’t keep up the strenuous work demanded of her when she was in the last months of the pregnancy? And what about when the baby was born? What would she do with an infant if she had to spend hours every day out in the Gulf? Leave it with a sixty-eight-year-old man in a wheelchair who nodded off when the wind changed direction?

The only way she could rationalize having this baby was if the charter business suddenly picked up. And that wasn’t likely to happen. Things hadn’t changed in Heron Point since she’d been born, except to maybe get worse.

Unless they were about to change now….

Helen hopped onto the boat deck. She stared out over the Gulf while Rusty chattered about tackle and bait, wind speed, and all the things that should have mattered this morning but suddenly didn’t. Her thoughts were on Ethan Anderson. Everybody in town seemed to think the reopening of Dolphin Run, and Ethan and his father were the answers to Heron Point’s financial problems. But as Helen watched a van pull up in front of the cottage and six men with large-brimmed hats and coolers get out, she wondered if Ethan could be the answer to hers.

ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Helen drove into town and parked near the Wear It Again shop on Island Avenue. The weekend crowd had started to pick up as it did every Friday. Heron Point’s quirky, anything-goes lifestyle, great seafood restaurants and unique shoreline drew visitors to the island in large numbers for a couple of days of kicking back.

Like Helen with her fishing charters, the artists and gallery owners with establishments on Island Avenue made their living from the tourists. While the two-day influx of population often cramped the styles of the permanent residents, everybody recognized that weekenders were the lifeblood of the community.

Helen looked up and down the avenue. As usual for a Friday, sale signs had appeared in shop windows, and merchandise dotted the sidewalks in pleasing displays. One of her own posters advertising Finn Catcher Charters sat in the window of Wear It Again, the vintage clothing store owned by Helen’s friend and Heron Point’s mayor, Claire Betancourt.

Helen stepped inside the shop to the welcoming tinkle of dolphin chimes. Claire’s nine-year-old daughter, Jane, scampered to the door, her bright brown eyes peering out from under the brim of a great straw hat laden with silk flowers. She twirled around in a circle. “Hi, Helen, what do you think?”

Helen put a finger over her mouth and stared pensively. “Positively divine, dahling. You’ve been invited to tea, have you?”

Jane giggled. “No. For pizza. Jack’s taking us later.”

“Even better.” Helen glanced around the shop. “Is your mom here?”

“You bet,” Claire called from the entrance to the dressing rooms. Stylish as always, her honey-blond hair pulled back into a sleek upsweep only her perfectly oval face could flatter, Claire took a hanger from a rack and handed the garment to SueAnn, the clerk who helped out on weekends. “Take this back to the second room, will you? Tell the customer I think it would look great on her.”

SueAnn left and Claire came over to Helen, slid her hand through Helen’s elbow and walked her to a pair of bar stools behind the checkout counter. “What’s up? You want to go for pizza? Jack’s treating, and I happen to know that Pet’s taking dinner to Finn from the café, so you don’t have to fix anything.”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Helen said. “Mostly I’m just here on a fishing expedition.”

“Oh, really?” Claire looked around at the dated garments that filled her racks and shelves. Many of them had once belonged to celebrities. “You suddenly have an urge to splurge on a bit of Hollywood memorabilia?”

Helen laughed and looked down at her faded scoop-neck yellow T-shirt and olive-green cargo shorts. “No, but I’m fishing for information.”

“Oh, well, that’s free—if I have any to give.”

Helen came right to the point. “What do you know about Ethan Anderson?”

Claire’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, Ethan. I know he’s rich, but doesn’t act it. And he’s handsome and can’t help it.”

“He’s not wearing a ring,” Helen said. “So I assume he’s single.”

Claire grinned at Helen. “Thirty-two and never been married. But from what Jack tells me, you know more about him than I do. I understand you gave him a rousing welcome to town the other day.”

Helen smirked. “So, the legend of Helen Sweeney lives on.”

“Absolutely. Especially since Archie Anderson told Jack to watch out for his only son while he’s in Heron Point and keep him out of harm’s way. Poor Jack. Ethan hasn’t made it easy for him to play protector. He arrived in town without telling anyone, and when he’d only been here for a few minutes, his rental car was victimized by a drive-by mangling.”

Only Claire could get away with such blatant teasing. Helen laughed. “It’s not like I was aiming for him.”

“I know that. Sometimes, honey, it just seems like bad luck follows you around.”

That was an understatement. Helen shook her head. “You don’t know the half of it. So why does the golden boy need watching over, anyway? He doesn’t seem like the type to have his own bad-luck shadow.”

Claire waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, and focused her attention on the day’s sales receipts. “Oh, who knows? Jack tells me Archie is paranoid about crackpots taking advantage of his money and power. He thinks half the world is out to get him or a member of his family.” She returned her gaze to Helen. “There’s probably some truth to it.”

Helen sensed there was more to Claire’s simple explanation than she was letting on, but she didn’t probe. “Yeah, potential trouble is everywhere, even in Heron Point, as we learned the hard way.”

Claire glanced at her daughter. As Jane tried on hats, a haunted veil clouded Claire’s eyes. Helen had seen a similar desperate look once before on Claire’s usually placid face. No one in Heron Point would ever forget when Jane was put in danger a month ago. Though, thanks to Jack, there was a happy ending, the incident made everyone in town open their eyes to the possibility of threats, even in their isolated little paradise.

“So, why the interest in Ethan?” Claire said, returning to the more comfortable topic that had brought Helen into the shop. “Of course, I heard about Donny, the creep. Ethan’s not like that. He’s a gentleman….”

Helen held up her hand. “Stop right there. You’re as bad as Pop.”

Claire faked an innocent expression. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I’m through with men for a while, at least in the way you’re thinking. Finn’s right. I seem to lose all capability for rational thought when I’m around the opposite sex. Besides, I know better than to go after a man who probably dates glamorous New York women who make me look like something they scraped off their boots.”

Claire gave her a scathing look. “I hate when you talk about yourself that way.” She fingered a strand of Helen’s limp hair. “You’re gorgeous, don’t you know that?”