The Chesapeake Bride Read online

  The man who appeared to be the head crewman tapped her on the arm. “Miss, would you like to take the rudder?”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  He smiled. “It steers the ship.”

  “You let total amateurs drive this thing?” She let go of Owen’s shirt and turned, staring at the man with horror in her eyes.

  “You won’t actually be steering. You’d just be holding on to the wheel to keep the ship steady. We’re pretty much on a slow and even course. There won’t be any turns made until we circle around to return back to Chestertown.”

  “Go ahead, Cass,” Owen urged as he tried to straighten out the front of his shirt, which she’d bunched and twisted into a wrinkled mess. “Might be good for you. Keep your mind off . . . you know. The whole boat thing. Besides, you know you like to feel you’re in control.”

  “How would you know that?” How does he know?

  “That’s a story for another time, too.” He smiled as he tossed her words back to her.

  “Come on, miss. It’s right over here. . . .”

  “Don’t leave me,” Cass whispered to Owen as the man gently took her hand.

  When they reached the wheel, the crewman said to the man who was holding it that his replacement was here. Then the crewman showed Cass where to place her hands.

  “What if it does something wonky? You know, like if the wind took it that way?” She pointed off to the left.

  “Unlikely, but I’ll be right here if that happens.” The crewman patted her shoulder gently in encouragement. “You’re doing fine.”

  Cass was aware that Owen mouthed, Thank you, as the crewman stepped away, but she chose not to mention it. She still didn’t like it, didn’t like being out here on the water where she felt so vulnerable, but Owen had been such a good sport about the walking tour, she felt obligated to force herself to stare straight ahead.

  The bay was smooth, the waves small, and she was getting used to the feel of the deck beneath her feet. It was breezier and cooler here than it had been at the crowded area at the far back of the ship, and without her asking him to, Owen placed her sweater around her shoulders.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” A moment later he asked, “How are you doing?”

  Cass took a deep breath. “Not so bad. It’s actually pretty smooth, isn’t it?”

  He nodded and pointed out landmarks along the way. “There’s Ballard. Great little town with a terrific dock bar. We’ll go some night when they have music, and we’ll sit out on the dock and listen and watch the boats pull up.”

  “Sounds like a fun place.” She felt her shoulders relax. “This really isn’t so bad.”

  “Good. You’re doing great, Cass. I’m proud of you.”

  She could have cried again. He was being such a sweetheart, understanding and nonjudgmental. He was making it hard for her to remember that he wasn’t the guy for her.

  Gulls swooped overhead as they sailed along, and the sunlight danced across the waves. It was peaceful here; Owen had been right. She liked the way the wind blew through her hair and over her skin. She was beginning to understand how some found the sea appealing. It wasn’t for her, but she could see how it might be for others.

  When she was replaced at the wheel and she and Owen returned to the very back of the ship, she had relaxed sufficiently to gaze at the shoreline and off into the distance, but the underlying anxiety was still there, only not as fierce as it had been. As the ship turned in a slow, wide arc and headed back to the river, she took a deep breath. Maybe she’d survive this short voyage after all.

  “Are you okay?” Owen had kept an arm around her shoulders the entire time.

  “A lot better, especially now that we’re heading upriver and toward the dock.”

  “We’ll be pulling up to the dock before you know it.”

  She could have said, I will be aware of every passing minute, but she refrained. When the dock came in sight, she wanted to whoop, but she refrained from that, too.

  “You did really, really well for your first time out on a boat,” Owen said once they’d departed the ship and were walking back to the car. “Next time, I’ll take you out myself. Alec has a—”

  “I don’t think so, but thanks. I think I’ve been there, done that, and don’t need to go back.”

  He fell silent as they reached the car. He unlocked it and opened the passenger-side door for her. She smiled her thanks, and while it looked as if he was about to say something, he merely smiled back and closed her door. On the drive back to St. Dennis, he slipped a CD into the player, and they talked about their favorite music and concerts they’d been to.

  “So, John Lennon or John Mellencamp?”

  “Lennon,” she replied without hesitation.

  “Lennon or McCartney?”

  “Oooh, tough one.” She frowned. “I have to go with McCartney.”

  “Beatles or Stones?”

  “Another tough one. The Stones are still at it, though, so maybe them. They’ve outlasted pretty much everyone.”

  “Stevie Nicks or Madonna?”

  “I can’t believe you’d even ask that.” She rolled her eyes. “Stevie, of course.”

  He nodded his agreement. “Mark Knopfler or Eddie Van Halen?”

  “That’s a trick question. Two totally different guitar styles. I pass,” she fired back.

  “Fair enough. Now, this might be the toughest of all. The king of rock and roll: Elvis or Chuck Berry?”

  “Wow.” She thought it over. “My mom is a fan of early rock and she’s a big Berry fan, so I’m going with him.”

  “I agree. Grace Slick or Janis Joplin?”

  She looked at him blankly. “I don’t know who Grace Slick is.”

  “End of game. You lose.”

  “How can I lose if no one else was playing?”

  “I’m sorry, but all questions must be submitted in writing,” he said solemnly.

  Cass laughed.

  He drove less than a mile, listening to the radio and tapping out the beat of a song on the steering wheel. Finally, he said, “So tell me about your husband. Where’s he now?”

  “Ex-husband, and he’s probably in the Middle East somewhere. I lost track of him before the divorce was final.” Cass pretended to be staring out the window when she was actually trying to avoid eye contact. The end of her marriage had come with painful realizations, and she didn’t like to look back on that time.

  This whole day had been a mash-up of good day/bad day.

  “So what was it that did you in? Him being away from home a lot?”

  She sighed. Apparently she’d have to talk about this at some point, so she might as well get it over with.

  “He liked—no, loved being in the army. He would come home on leave and wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He couldn’t wait to get back to his unit. I wasn’t prepared for that.” She turned and looked at Owen. “He was my college sweetheart. We had our whole lives mapped out. He’d do four years while I got my architecture degree, then we’d set up house somewhere and have a bunch of kids. It became apparent after a few years that that wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t a bad guy. Even he wasn’t prepared for how much he loved military life. I was miserable and resentful, and he was feeling guilty and trapped. One of us had to be the grown-up and pull the plug. That was me. He never would have done it, no matter how unhappy he was, because he knew he’d let me down. But as long as I stayed, he could convince himself that, deep down, I was okay with it.”

  “Was he shocked? When you told him you wanted a divorce?”

  “Shocked?” Cass smiled ruefully. “Relieved. Grateful. Happy as a pig in . . . well, you get the idea.”

  “I’m sorry. It sounds as if you started out with the right idea, but it went off the rails somehow.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” She watched the scenery on Route 50 fly by. “How ’bout you? Any wives—ex or otherwise—in your background?”


  “One ex.”

  “You were married?”

  “One time, yes.”

  Cass tried to hide her surprise. She would have bet just about anything that he’d never been married. The question had been one of those toss-out things, something you say in conversation, sort of like asking if the other person ever broke their leg after you’ve talked about the time you broke yours. She hadn’t been prepared to hear him say he’d been married.

  “Who was she?”

  “Someone I went to school with from first grade. We’d always been friends, but we started dating in high school, on and off, then later, for years, on and off. I don’t remember how many times. Looking back now, I think it was always a matter of me coming home after one of my jaunts and she’d break off with whoever she was dating, and we’d date for as long as I was here if I wasn’t seeing someone else. Then one day she gave me an ultimatum. She was tired of me bouncing back to her, then leaving for one adventure or another—sometimes that adventure may have involved another woman—then bouncing back, leaving again. You get the picture.”

  “Marry me or lose my number?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Not hard to figure out that one.”

  “So, yeah, we got married. Bad idea right from the start, and we both knew it. I still don’t know why I did it. Maybe I was tired, or maybe she caught me in an off moment, or maybe I wanted to see what it would be like to stay in one place all the time. Maybe I’d come to depend on her as a constant in my life, because in spite of everything, we really did like each other. I don’t know. Needless to say, it didn’t last very long. Well, the marriage lasted a few years, but only because I was in Alaska and they couldn’t serve me with the divorce papers. I wasn’t dodging her, I just moved around a lot, which I was in the habit of doing. When I finally came back, we decided to try again, but that lasted about two weeks before we both agreed it had been a dumb idea from the very beginning.”

  “Did you love her?”

  Owen hesitated for a moment. “Not the way I should have. If I had, I wouldn’t have gone to Alaska in the first place.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Adventure. Something and someplace new. The thrill of the unknown. Take your pick.”

  “So how long has it been final?”

  “It’ll be two years in November.”

  “Does she still live in St. Dennis?”

  “No, and as far as I know, her parents moved a few towns over.”

  “You never contacted her?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “I don’t know. Just to see how she is . . . how her life is going.”

  “Well, in keeping with the nautical theme of the day, let’s just say that ship has sailed. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to revisit that time. It’s done. Move on.”

  “Turn the page,” Cass murmured.

  “Exactly.” He nodded. “You want to see your ex again?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She shot him a dark look. “I don’t want to see him because I don’t want to remember how bad he made me feel.”

  “That’s pretty much what I said. Just different words.” Owen reached over and took her hand. “How did we get onto this topic that has clearly bummed out both of us?”

  “I don’t remember, but it is a downer.”

  “I know the perfect cure for chasing away bad thoughts.”

  “No, please. Not another boat ride.”

  “That was a ship, not a boat, but no.”

  “Is this going to be another one of your surprises? Because if it is . . .”

  He laughed and the mood in the car lifted. “You’ll love this one. I promise.”

  “That’s what you said about the Contessa.”

  “Trust me. This will be good.”

  It wasn’t just good, it was great. Once back in St. Dennis, he turned onto Kelly’s Point Road and drove to the end. They got out of the car and he steered her to the left side of the narrow boardwalk and the old crabber’s shack that had been converted into an ice cream shop.

  “Oh, One Scoop or Two. Everyone talks about this place, and I meant to come down here and never did.”

  “Shhhh.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “That’s like a sin around here. If you want to live here, you have to make a weekly stop—at the very least—to see what Steffie has concocted.”

  The sign outside the shop promised ice cream using local ingredients and made by hand.

  “She comes up with the wildest flavors.” Owen opened the door and held it for Cass. “Let’s see what she has on the chalkboard today.”

  “Chocolate thunder, peach blossom, wildflower honey, black raspberry divine, pumpkin spice . . .” The woman behind the counter rattled off the flavors without looking at the board. She was tall, slender, and had a long blond ponytail and an easy smile. “Of course, we have the standards: vanilla bean, double chocolate fudge, strawberry supreme. I think we also might have some chocolate raspberry and maybe a little bit of peanut-butter pie left. I can check in the back if you want.”

  “Ah, that’s okay, Stef. I think I’m good.” Owen turned to Cass. “You want to hear more?”

  “No, no. She had me at pumpkin spice.”

  “An excellent choice. I just made it this morning, and it’s fabulous, if I do say so myself.” Wielding a scoop, Stef opened the case. “Cone or dish?”

  “Cone, thanks.”

  “Sugar or waffle?”

  “Sugar.”

  “Stef, this is my friend Cass Logan.” Owen turned to Cass. “Stef makes all her own ice cream every day.”

  “I’m impressed,” Cass said. “That’s quite a selection.”

  “Thank you. I try to be modest about it, but . . . why?” Steffie smiled broadly. “It’s all I ever wanted to do. Oh, that and marry the coolest, handsomest, hottest guy in St. Dennis. With apologies, Owen, but you’re Cannonball Island, so you weren’t a contender.”

  Owen laughed and studied the chalkboard.

  “So did you?” Cass couldn’t help but ask. “Marry the cool, handsome, hot guy?”

  Steffie held up her ring finger and wiggled it. “Two babies later and we’re living happily ever after.”

  “Good for you.” Cass felt her stomach flutter with something that could have been envy, if she’d wanted to put a name to it.

  “Steffie’s husband, Wade, is half of MadMac Brews,” Owen explained.

  “That he is.” Stef handed over Cass’s cone. “You’re up, Owen. What’s it gonna be?”

  “Gotta be one scoop of chocolate thunder, one scoop of peanut-butter pie.”

  “You’re on.” Stef completed the order and walked to the cash register, where she gave Owen the cone and the total. “How’s my friend Ruby these days? I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks.”

  “She’s doing great.” Owen handed Stef a ten. “I’d take her something but I’m not going right home.”

  “You can bring her back later.” Stef gave him back his change.

  Owen and Cass sat at the table nearest the counter and chatted with Stef, who was more than happy to tell Cass how she made up the names for the various flavors of ice cream she served.

  “I can attest to the absolute deliciousness of the pumpkin spice.” Cass left her seat for the counter and another few napkins.

  “You have a drip.” Stef pointed to the front of Cass’s shirt. “Come on in the back and I’ll see if we can get it out before it sets.”

  “Oh, thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”

  “I’d hate to see that pretty top ruined by the stain from the spices I used in that recipe.”

  Cass looked down at the spot on her shirt.

  “It’ll only take a minute.” Steffie waved her to the back of the store.

  “I’ll be right back,” Cass told Owen.

  “I’ll be right here, working on my double-decker.” Owen leaned back in the chair.

  “Do you think it will leave a
permanent mark?” Cass frowned as Stef wetted a cloth at the sink in the back room.

  “I hope not.” Stef handed Cass the cloth.

  “This must be your workroom.” Cass looked around at the many shelves and cabinets that lined every inch of wall space as she dabbed at the mark.

  “It is. I tried doing it at home, but with young kiddies”—Stef shook her head—“it just wasn’t going to work. So now my husband and I take turns in the morning staying home with them while the other works, and either my mother or his sister watches them in the afternoons.”

  “Convenient to have family around.”

  The bell over the shop door rang and Cass heard footsteps cross the wooden floor. “I think you have a customer.”

  Stef looked out through the doorway. “Hi, Ken. I’ll be right with you.”

  “I think I got it all.” Cass studied the front of her shirt.

  “You did.” Stef nodded.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.” Stef walked back to the front of the shop and Cass followed.

  Owen was sitting in the chair where Cass’d left him, looking up at the bearded man who stood five feet from the table. There’d obviously been some conversation, but from the expression on Owen’s face, it hadn’t been particularly friendly.

  “What can I get for you today, Kenny?” Steffie called.

  The customer turned from Owen and went to the counter.

  Cass returned to the table. “Thanks to Stef, I have a stain-free shirt.”

  “Looks good. Are you finished?” Owen asked somewhat abruptly.

  “Yes.”

  “Come on. I can eat ice cream and walk at the same time.” He got up and waved to Stef.

  The man at the counter turned, and the two men exchanged a look Cass couldn’t decipher. Neither spoke a word. Cass had wanted to say a parting word to Stef, but Owen led her by the elbow to the door and they went outside.

  Cass tried to keep up with Owen’s long stride. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, why?”

  They reached the car. “Who was that guy?”

  “Just someone I knew from school.” Owen unlocked the car and waited till she got in before slamming the door.

  Obviously there was more to it than Owen admitted. His mood and his body language had changed in the time it had taken Cass to blot away a stain from her shirt.