Tides of Hope. Irene Hannon

attacking the swells. He’d let the sea surprise him, score a point. Bad mistake. One he’d vowed never to let happen again. His last mistake had cost him too—

      “Hey! Hey, you!”

      At the shouted summons, Craig broke his rhythm again, this time on purpose. Riding the swells, he lifted his head and checked for the source.

      The name of the boat rocking on the waves a few yards away clicked into focus first. Lucy Sue.

      Meaning the human hurricane couldn’t be far behind.

      Taking a deep breath, Craig looked higher. Sure enough, the voice belonged to none other than Katherine MacDonald. And she was in a snit once again, judging by her ruddy color and tense posture as she glared down at him, her wind-tossed red hair whipping about her face.

      The full blast of her fury was coming. He knew that. He’d already had a sample of her temper, and the signs were all there. But instead of using the lull before the storm to brace himself, he found his thoughts wandering to Grace O’Malley, the legendary Irish pirate queen. Somehow he had a feeling she’d looked a lot like Katherine MacDonald.

      “…recreational swimming area!”

      The tail end of her comment interrupted his musings. “What?”

      “I said, are you crazy? This is not a recreational swimming area!” She had to yell to be heard above the hum of the engine and the waves slapping against the side of the boat.

      “I’m fine,” he called back.

      “You can’t be fine! The water’s freezing! And there’s a bad riptide here. You need to get back to shore!” She flicked her hand toward the beach, as if shooing a recalcitrant puppy back from the edge of a busy street.

      It was obvious she didn’t recognize him. But why should she? His wet suit, swim cap and goggles left very few identifying features exposed.

      As he bobbed on the swells, he considered his options. The path of least resistance would be to remain anonymous, acquiesce and retreat to the beach. That would be the smart thing to do. He’d been about ready to head toward shore anyway.

      Instead, prompted by some impulse he couldn’t identify, he lifted his goggles and settled them on top of the orange swim cap. “I can handle this sea, Ms. MacDonald.”

      Her reaction as his identity became apparent was reward enough for his rash action. Seeing Katherine MacDonald shocked speechless was, he suspected, a rare treat.

      Unfortunately, it was short-lived.

      “I don’t believe this! You, of all people, should know better than to swim in seas like this! Alone, no less! And you cited me for a safety violation?”

      He’d known she’d come back with a zinger. She hadn’t disappointed him.

      “I’m trained to swim in worse conditions than these. And I’m well-equipped.”

      She dismissed his explanation with a curt flip of her hand. “That may be true, but no one in their right mind would put themselves into dangerous conditions without cause. Do you have a death wish or something?”

      For some reason, her question jolted him. He knew it was an exaggeration, meant to drive home her point, yet it left him feeling uneasy. And no longer interested in prolonging their verbal sparring match.

      Pulling his goggles back over his eyes, he prepared to resume his swim.

      The red-haired spitfire must have sensed his intent because she called out again. “I can’t in good conscience leave anyone alone in these waters, especially in this weather.”

      He checked her out over his shoulder as he treaded water, buoyant on the rising swells. She was still standing by the side of the boat, gripping the rail, watching him.

      Ignoring her comment, he resumed his course, swimming parallel to the shore.

      Thirty seconds later, he heard the hum of her boat behind him.

      Craig kept swimming for two more minutes, the boat pacing him. She wasn’t backing down. No surprise there, he supposed. And he didn’t relish company on his solitary swims. Besides, he’d stayed out as long as he’d planned, and the cold seeping through his neoprene insulation was beginning to get uncomfortable.

      Altering his course, he aimed for shore. Let Katherine MacDonald assume she’d won the battle. He knew better. Had she caught him at the beginning of his swim instead of the end, he’d have put up with the audience and she’d have found herself tooling around in the Lucy Sue far longer as she discovered he could be as strong-willed as she was.

      That revelation wasn’t going to happen today.

      But he had a strong suspicion it was coming.

      As the lieutenant changed direction and headed for shore, Kate let out a long, relieved breath. Good. Had he balked, she wasn’t at all confident she’d have won the skirmish. Yet the rule-bound commander didn’t strike her as the kind of man prone to capitulation. So why had he given in?

      The answer, she grudgingly acknowledged, was clear.

      He’d been ready to call it a day anyway.

      Meaning her victory was hollow.

      Kate planted her fists on her hips and watched as he surged through the swells with powerful strokes, doing her best to stifle the flicker of admiration fanned to life by his masterful physical control and his command of the water. Just because he was a good swimmer didn’t mean he should be taking chances by venturing into hazardous seas alone. It was folly to feel invincible around the ocean, no matter how strong or well-equipped you were. And a Coast Guard lieutenant should know that. Taking him to task for his irresponsible actions had been more than justified.

      The instant he emerged from the water, Kate once more swung the Lucy Sue to port and headed home. And as the boat plowed through the waves, she forced herself to switch gears and focus on the pleasant evening ahead. She and Maddie were planning to indulge in a pizza, followed by a movie of her daughter’s choice. No doubt her current favorite, The Lion King. They’d seen it four times already, but Kate didn’t mind. Cuddling with her daughter under an afghan, a cozy fire burning in the grate, was about the most comforting way she could imagine to spend a chilly evening.

      Only one thing would be missing from that picture of contentment, she reflected, the salt from the spray reminding her of the taste of tears. Mac wouldn’t be with them. How he would have loved an evening like that! With him, however, it would have been impromptu, a spontaneous celebration rather than a planned event. He’d had a remarkable gift for turning ordinary days into special occasions, his infectious joie de vivre and go-with-the-flow attitude carrying everyone along with him.

      Kate could imagine what tonight would be like if he were here. Instead of pizza, he might suggest chocolate chip waffles. Rather than sitting on the couch, he might drag out their folding chairs, make popcorn and have them all pretend they were at the old hall in ’Sconset that showed family movies in the summer. And he might resurrect their vintage video of The Sound of Music and encourage them all to sing along, his off-key baritone and contagious laugh ringing through the house.

      Life with Mac had been one grand adventure, Kate recalled, her lips softening into a melancholy smile. Flexible, agreeable, always upbeat, he was a man who’d lived—and loved—with an abandon that had taken her breath away. Without him, she felt as she had as a child waking up the day after Christmas, the excitement and anticipation of the previous day replaced by a sense that life for the next 364 days would be dull, dull, dull.

      Though Kate’s world had been graced by the presence of Dennis “Mac” MacDonald far too briefly, she would always be grateful to him for their days together. And for teaching her by example to embrace life—and not sweat the small stuff. She’d struggled at times with that during the past few years, but at least she kept trying.

      The stiff, stuffy lieutenant she’d left on Great Point would do well to learn that lesson, too, Kate thought, her smile