The Child She Always Wanted. Jennifer Mikels

her, then as she quickly quieted, he’d assumed Rachel had control of the moment. He was glad someone did, because it sure as hell wasn’t him.

      They’d taken over his life in less than twenty-four hours. Cans of baby formula lined a shelf in his refrigerator, the sweet smell of some kind of baby powder hung in the air of the bedroom they occupied.

      Then there was Rachel. She pulled at him with those soft-green eyes, with that smile, with that gentle, smooth voice.

      “See you, Captain,” a voice called out.

      Kane yanked himself back to his surroundings. He nodded in response to the man passing by. A corporate-type in his white baseball cap, polo shirt and Bermuda shorts, he shared a fishing story with his friend while they sauntered toward their luxury cars. They’d spent early-morning hours on the water for the thrill of catching a big one.

      Lonnie Culhern, his first mate, stood on the pier. He’d dropped out of college years ago to the dismay of his family who’d perceived their son as a Harvard graduate. After moving around like a rolling stone, he’d settled again in Hubbard Bay and had taken a job with Kane. Though comfortable with Lonnie’s company, Kane had doubted his deckhand’s staying power and kept a check on any real friendship developing between them.

      “Heard a woman, new in town, was asking about you.” A mixture of curiosity and speculation had entered Lonnie’s voice. “According to Ephraim,” he said about the owner of the town’s oldest gas station, “she’s a Quinn. Rachel Quinn. And a looker.” An interested look spread over Lonnie’s face. “Who is she? An old girlfriend?”

      Kane squinted against a bright morning sun. “Never dated her.”

      “Ephraim said she’s really something. Before I could ask more, Phil showed up and said we needed rain,” he said with the annoyance he’d felt then. “That set off Ephraim who said sunshine was good for tourists, and Phil crabbed about us needing less instead of more of them. You know how they go on.”

      Kane nodded distractedly, figured they’d spent enough time talking about Rachel. She wasn’t one of them anymore.

      “Someone said she took care of her brother and sister after her parents died.”

      Kane continued to hose down the deck. “You turning into one of the town’s gossips?”

      Lonnie scowled as if he’d been insulted. “Just telling you what I heard.”

      “She has a kid.” Purposely he led Lonnie astray.

      As expected that news backed Lonnie up. Any hint of commitment scared the daylights out of him. “Whoa. Bad news.” Completing his chore, he dropped a bag of trash, mostly beer cans into a nearby receptacle. “No wonder you’re keeping your distance,” he said before sauntering away from Kane.

      Keeping his distance? Hardly.

      Rachel had spent the morning playing catch up on sleep. She’d felt more rested than she’d expected, and except for Heather’s usual 2 a.m. feeding, she’d slept through the night, able to ignore the storm.

      She bathed Heather, emptied her suitcase and hung the clothes in the closet, but whiled away the rest of the day. By three o’clock she hadn’t accomplished anything else. The mistake she made was digging into her shoulder bag for a piece of peppermint candy. Once her fingers curled over the paperback in her purse, she hadn’t budged from the chair until after the author had her protagonist discover the first murder.

      A touch annoyed with herself, Rachel grabbed her keys and made her way to the front door, intending on bringing Heather’s things in from the van, then going to the store for formula. She took only one step onto the porch.

      At some time earlier Kane had taken her keys from the kitchen counter where she’d dropped them. Before leaving for the boat, he must have brought to the porch the bouncing exerciser that resembled a car, an infant swing, and several boxes filled with baby clothing and blankets.

      Rachel left all of it there, certain no one would take anything. The late-afternoon air carried a pleasant warmth. Hours ago the sun had burned away the mist off the Atlantic Ocean.

      She pushed Heather’s navy-colored stroller with its blue-and-white-striped canopy across the street and strolled along the cliff walk that traveled parallel with the water. She took in the rocky cliffs, the water crowded with boats sparkling beneath the sunlight. Everything from the smell of the salt-scented breeze to the sight of the deserted, weathered wood shacks made her feel at home. A gentle breeze whipped through her hair. Several gulls trailed a boat, skimmed the water for food.

      Little had changed in the sixteen years since she’d left Hubbard Bay. It had maintained its small-town appearance. Generations of families lived in the town. Store owners passed businesses on to their children. Progress and expensive condos for summer tourists sprang up at more picturesque towns.

      Hubbard Bay beckoned the tourist who wanted to see authentic New England, yearned for the feel of the ocean on the skin, viewed the weathered clapboard houses as quaint, instead of shabby. She’d spent years in Texas, longing for the smell of the ocean and wondered now how she would ever leave it again.

      For the next hour she browsed along the part of Main Street’s string of cottages that were used for businesses, mostly antique shops, though intermingled between them stood an insurance company, a baby store, a clothing boutique and several souvenir shops.

      Feeling more content, more at peace than she had in ages, she strolled into the grocery store for formula. Though groceries were needed, she wanted to talk to Kane first about his food preferences. That Velma wasn’t working made her feel as if she’d gotten a reprieve from the woman’s interrogation.

      In a good mood, she took a different route back to the house. She’d breathed a sigh of relief too soon, she realized. She was almost at the walkway of the house when she spotted Velma. Politeness forced Rachel to stop, but she eyed the house, wondering how to make a quick escape.

      “Nice to see you again, Rachel. Did you get settled in?”

      “Yes, I—”

      “Guess you found Kane Riley since you’re staying there,” she said with a backhand wave at the house.

      “Guess so,” Rachel responded, not surprised that where she was staying was public knowledge.

      Bending slightly forward, Velma scrutinized Heather’s carriage with the removable infant seat. “Newfangled-type thing.” The lines in the woman’s face deepened. “Will your husband be coming?”

      Rachel knew her answer, an honest one, would travel over the gossip grapevine faster than the speed of light. “I’m not married.” She should have clarified everything, told Velma that the baby was Marnie’s, but she wasn’t in a mood for explanations.

      “I see,” was all the woman said.

      Rachel took a step toward the house. She could make a mad dash for it, but that seemed silly. “I need to go in now, Velma. It’s almost time for Heather’s bottle.”

      “He got that house, got everything of Charlie Greer’s after the old man died, you know,” Velma said before she’d taken another step. “Of course, that was Kane Riley’s fault.” Rachel didn’t miss the slight shift in the woman’s mouth as if she’d just sniffed something disdainful. “What’s that thing on the porch? One of those things the baby bounces in?”

      Frowning at her words, Rachel traced the woman’s stare to the bright-yellow car on the porch. “Yes.”

      Velma’s scowl deepened. “Little young for that, isn’t she?”

      “It was given as a shower gift for later.” Rachel couldn’t stop herself. “What’s his fault?” she asked in regard to Velma’s previous quip about Kane.

      “Old Charlie’s death. Shouldn’t have happened.”

      Rachel checked herself from delving deeper. Was the woman really talking about something