Diane Chamberlain - Kiss River

“Hey!”

The shout came from the beach, slipping past Clay’s ears on the breeze. Leaning over, he saw a flashlight far below them.

“Hey, Lace!” he called back. “We’ll be down in a sec.”

Turning to Gina, he stood up. “That’s my sister,” he said. “Are you ready to go down?”

She nodded. He held his hand out to her as she stood up, but she didn’t take it. Leading the way down the staircase, he kept his flashlight turned backward a bit to light the stairs for her. “Watch your step,” he warned. “It’s not as easy in the dark.”

He moved slowly, aware that Gina had a death grip on the railing behind him, and it was a while before they exited through the tiled foyer. The waves washed over their feet and legs once they’d descended the three concrete steps into the water. Sasha bounded toward them, splashing their arms and faces as they waded to the dry sand where Lacey stood.

Gina nearly ignored Lacey as she squatted low to the ground to pet Sasha, and Clay’s opinion of the woman instantly rose a few notches. Sasha rolled in the sand, exposing his stomach to the stranger, and Gina obliged by rubbing his belly.

“That’s Sasha,” Clay said. “And this is my sister, Lacey. Lacey, this is Gina …?” He couldn’t recall her last name.

“Higgins.” Gina stood up, wiping her sandy hand on her shorts before extending it to Lacey.

“Are you a friend of Clay’s?” Lacey asked as she shook Gina’s hand, and Clay heard the hope in her voice. His sister would love nothing better than for him to have a new woman in his life.

Gina smiled at her. “No,” she said with a slight laugh. “I’m a trespasser, actually. I was up on the lighthouse when it got dark and your brother rescued me. That’s all.”

“Really?” Lacey raised her eyebrows at him.

“She came in from the road,” he explained.

“I walked around the chain,” Gina said. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see—”

“No big deal,” Lacey said, waving her unlit flashlight through the air. Her long red hair was tied back against the breeze, and her fair skin glowed white in the darkness. “We don’t own this place.” She glanced from Gina to Clay and back again, and he could almost see what she was thinking. Right age, very attractive, perfect for Clay . “Are you here on vacation with your family?” she asked. “Or with a bunch of girlfriends?” Clay nearly groaned at her transparent probing. Why didn’t she just come right out and ask the woman if she was available to be fixed up with her pathetic brother?

“I’m alone,” Gina said. “Just here for a few days.”

“She’s a lighthouse historian,” Clay said.

“Amateur,” Gina added, glancing away from him. She was probably still embarrassed over her pronunciation of Fresnel.

“Well, listen.” Lacey swatted a mosquito that had landed on her bare shoulder. “Have you eaten? Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, no,” Gina protested.

“We know absolutely every minute detail there is to know about the lighthouse,” Lacey coaxed. “We can tell you everything.” He knew his sister would not take no for an answer. He understood how her mind worked. It wasn’t so much that she was hoping to fix Gina up with him, or that she was eager to tell her stories about the lighthouse. It was that she couldn’t bear to think of anyone being alone.

“I bought plenty of fresh tuna for dinner, so you might as well stay,” Clay said, surprising himself as well as Lacey. “Then one of us can drive you back out to your car.” The truth was, he didn’t want her to go, either. He wanted to see her in the good light of the kitchen. He wanted to find flaws in that perfect face.

Gina looked down at Sasha, who was leaning against her thigh. She scratched the dog behind his ears.

“All right,” she said. “That’s so nice of you. I have to admit, I was a little nervous about walking back through those woods, with the wild horses and pigs and all.”

He and Lacey stared at her, then started to laugh.

“Wild pigs?” Lacey asked.

“I’d heard there were wild pigs,” Gina said. “Boars, I mean.”

“A long, long time ago,” Clay said, wondering where she’d received that piece of information. Whatever lighthouse source she was using had to be ancient. She hadn’t known the Kiss River had been destroyed. And wild pigs?

“The horses were moved way up past Corolla and fenced in,” Lacey explained. “Too many were getting killed because of the traffic. And it used to be open range here, long ago. Full of cows and hogs, and some of them did run wild. Mary Poor, who used to be the keeper, told me about them. I think there’s still some wild boar up in the wildlife refuge.”

“You know Mary Poor?” Gina asked. The name was obviously familiar to her.

“I did,” Lacey said. “She died a few years ago, but I used to visit her in the nursing home where she was living.”

“I’d love to hear more about her,” Gina said.

“Sure,” Lacey said, motioning in the direction of the house. “Let’s get dinner started and I’ll tell you all about her.”

The three of them began walking toward the house, sand sticking to their damp feet. Gina was tall and long-legged, and she carried her sandals dangling from her fingertips. Watching her, Clay nearly forgot about the charcoal.

“I’ll fire up the grill,” he said, breaking away from the women to make his way to the shed where he kept the charcoal. He was only half-surprised when Sasha elected to stay at Gina’s side rather than walk with him. His dog could be as manipulative as his sister.

* * *

When he brought the grilled tuna steaks into the kitchen, he found Lacey and Gina making salad and boiling cobs of corn. They were deep in conversation, deep in that world of women that was so natural for them and so elusive to men like him. They were talking about the history of the light station, Lacey entertaining Gina with tales of the keepers, Mary and Caleb Poor. She knew far more than he did, due to both her interest in the subject and her relationship with Mary, and Gina kept her eyes on his sister while she tore apart the leaves of romaine, clearly enraptured.

In the light of the kitchen, Lacey and Gina looked like two women in a painting, one a redhead, the other raven-haired. Both beautiful. Both slender, fair-skinned. His twenty-four-year-old sister looked tougher than Gina, though. The muscles in Lacey’s arms and legs were tight and defined. Her face was fuller. She not only had her mother’s vivid hair and artistic talent, but her dimples as well, along with that pale, freckled skin that needed serious protection from the sun. Although she was also fair, Gina looked as though she might be able to tan well, but he doubted her skin had seen the sun in years. She was older than he’d thought, a couple of years older than himself. Thirty maybe. The damp sea air had found its way into her hair, which had taken on the same windblown, wild look that would mark Lacey’s hair if she were to let it loose.

He put the plate of tuna steaks on the porcelain-topped table and Gina brought over the salad, while Lacey carried the platter of corn.

“Where do you live?” Clay asked, taking his seat at the table. He passed Gina the tuna steaks, motioning to her to help herself.

“Bellingham, Washington,” Gina said. “It’s north of Seattle.”

“Washington!” Lacey said. “What are you doing out here?”

“I had time off,” Gina said, reaching for the salad, and, Clay thought, measuring her words. “I teach school, so I have summer vacation, same as the students. I’m familiar with the lighthouses in the Pacific Northwest, and I wanted to visit some in the East. I thought I’d start here.”