Coast Guard Courtship

“Amen,” he whispered.

His first prayer since his father’s sudden death. Braeden pondered what, exactly, God had in store for him in this tiny village on the shores of the Atlantic.

Chapter Four (#ulink_dbc5dc7f-15db-53bc-97d3-ebcf3877cf5d)

The ceremony ended with the tolling of the old ship’s bell mounted on the edge of the wharf. The bell rang out over the water across the assorted vessels in the harbor. One toll for each Kiptohanock waterman lost at sea.

Amelia shuddered.

Too many lost over the years. Friends of her dad’s, former schoolmates. Sons, brothers, fathers, grandpas. As the sounds floated skyward beyond the white-steepled church, she positioned herself to avoid facing sweet Pauline Crockett. Amelia dug her nails into the palms of her hands, remembering their shared loss.

Braeden gave her a sharp look. “Your family makes its living from the water, too?”

“Dad taught us to respect it. To never turn our backs on it or take it for granted. He equipped us to fight for survival when pitted against it when we must. To be prepared for its changing face.”

Amelia gestured toward the vessels anchored in the marina. “But every year the fleet grows smaller and the living gets harder to wrest from its depths. The crabs are overfished. The oysters infected.”

She made a face. “And don’t get the watermen started on the government regulations. In today’s world, a true waterman must diversify. So I run the charter fishing trips since Dad got sick. He does part-time work for the boat repair shop.”

Braeden quirked an eyebrow. “And Honey runs her B and B.”

Her lips curled a fraction. “I suppose when you put it that way...” She patted Max’s knee, perched atop Braeden’s shoulders.

Broad shoulders. Able to carry heavy loads.

She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. “Look, Max. The chief’s tossing the memorial wreath into the harbor.”

Max nodded. “For everybody lost at sea, like my dad.”

Not like his dad. But she’d never say that to Max. Let the child keep what illusions he possessed as long as he could.

Braeden lowered Max to the ground when the ceremony concluded. The crowd dispersed. She spotted her dad shooting the breeze with his buddies, many of them serving as auxiliary volunteer support to Station Kiptohanock. Amelia tensed as the Kole boy waved to Honey from the CG boat at anchor in the harbor.

Max tugged at Braeden’s hand. “Let’s watch the boats go by.”

Amelia caught Max’s arm. “Braeden probably has things to do.”

Max opened his palms. “Please, Mimi. Please.”

Braeden adjusted his cap. “I really don’t have anywhere to be until I report for watch tomorrow.”

Two pairs of imploring eyes—bright blue and chocolate brown—shifted her way.

Amelia’s high-minded resolve to avoid the XPO weakened. “Oh, all right. But only for a minute.”

They shouldered past the clumps of chatting people milling about on the pier. Getting an earful from a come-here—anyone from elsewhere other than the Eastern Shore—her dad backpedaled as Amelia approached. She pivoted toward Honey, who ducked her head and disappeared into the café.

Cowards. She’d give them an earful and a piece of her temper for hatching this plot to rent out the cabin. They’d left her out of the loop and made her look like a fool in front of the XPO.

Amelia sighed.

Okay, she’d accomplished that feat under her own steam.

Max occupied himself by saluting as the flotilla of recreational and commercial fishing vessels chugged away toward the open water.

Braeden looped his thumbs in his duty belt. “I take it you knew nothing about the cabin rental. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’m sorry I almost skewered you.” She surveyed the sparkling water. “Money’s been tight since Dad’s heart attack. Honey had to drop out of college and come home. And with Max...” She cleared her throat. “They probably believed they were helping the Duer bottom line.”

He leaned toward her, his gaze intent. “But this is going to add to your workload, isn’t it?” His probing awareness penetrated down to the depths of her heart.

She flushed.

When he looked at her like that...

She wished she’d taken Honey’s advice last week and had her hair styled. Big waste of money. For as often as not, she stuffed her hair inside a cap and let the sun and the wind have their way.

“You already run the family fishing business—”

“What’s left of it these days.”

“And operate a charter boat during tourist season by yourself?”

She nodded.

Braeden’s cheeks lifted, turning his eyes into half-moons. “I’m impressed. You’re a woman of many talents.”

Max plucked at her sleeve. “It’s not too cold, Mimi. Braeden and I could—”

“No, Max. It is too cold.” She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she’d brought a jacket. The wind off the water was cool. She should’ve been more vigilant.

Out of habit, she darted a glance at the horizon. Red sky this morning. “Sailor take warning. Wind’s picking up.”

Braeden removed his cap and plopped it on Max’s head. “USCG,” he read aloud. “Station Kiptohanock. Would you take care of it for me until lunch, bud?”

Max grinned. “Sure, Braeden. I’ll take real good care of it.” He trotted toward the end of the dock.

Braeden sniffed the air. His nose twitched, resembling a bird dog’s. “Smells like chowder.”

She relaxed. “The volunteer fire department’s serving clam chowder and crab cakes to raise money for the Watermen Association.”

“Want to get Max a bowl?” He dropped his eyes to the weathered pier and shuffled his feet. “Maybe get some for yourself, too?” The back of his neck reddened. “Save me from eating my first Shore meal alone. My treat.”

A gust of wind carried his words. She imagined the gawking stares and resulting speculation around the lunch counter at the Sandpiper about the new XPO treating the old maid Duer sister to lunch.

Was this his attempt to make up for scaring the daylights out of her? She didn’t usually merit attention of the male persuasion.

Probably only being nice to the kid’s poor fishy aunt Mimi.