He shifted uncomfortably as he lay back in the boat. It was an odd feeling, empathizing with his dad. He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.
ChapterTwenty
Maeve looked up from her book to see Zoey rowing them back to shore. The oars kept popping out of the water midway through a stroke, or sometimes missing the water completely, but she was clearly working her hardest and making steady, if slow, progress.
Brodie was leaning back, propped up on his elbows.
When they got closer, he took over the rowing to navigate the landing, and Zoey jumped out while they were still in shallow water, splashing her shorts she was in such a hurry to tell Maeve all about it.
“It’s okay, we didn’t kill any fish, but Brodie made me row, which was totally unfair but I didn’t mind it in the end—and look, I’ve got a blister on my hand.” She held up the soft skin of her palm for Maeve to inspect.
“That looked like really hard work,” Maeve said. “Well done.”
Brodie came loping over having hauled the boat onto dry land. “She was really good,” he said. “A natural.”
Maeve felt that tiny prickle of jealousy that Brodie could seemingly persuade Zoey into anything. She couldn’t imagine her daughter ever agreeing to row if she’d asked her.
But then as Zoey proceeded to recount every second of the trip with exuberant excitement—especially the bit when Brodie had said they didn’t have to do any actual fishing—as well as the faint envy, Maeve felt something else that she couldn’t quite get her head round.
Brodie came and stood next to Zoey, swiping a bug or something off the shoulder of her T-shirt as he said, “You were awesome. Much better than I was at your age. This girl’s got some muscles.” He gave Zoey’s bicep a squeeze and she flexed it proudly. “Check those out!” he added with mock amazement.
Maeve watched the interaction, the care that Brodie took around Zoey, the obvious fun they had together and realized that the feeling bubbling inside her was hope.
Maybe this could work. She didn’t want to give it too much room, but just a little gap in the guards she had up around them that might allow Brodie to squeeze through—if he really tried!
They spent the rest of the day hanging out. Zoey drew pictures and pressed flowers with Maeve. Brodie taught her to skim stones and then she made him do somersaults and handstands in the water. Sometimes he’d flop down on a chair but then Zoey would yank him up again for a diving competition or similar.
When Zoey got really tired, they went inside and she watched TV. Brodie and Maeve sat on the deck again.
“What would you normally be doing right now?” Maeve asked him.
Brodie thought for a second, looked at his watch and said, “Not sure, having a long lunch somewhere. Or surfing, if I was at home.”
“Home?” she asked. “Where would you say that is?”
“Malibu at the moment,” he replied, “but I’m not sure if it’shomehome.”
She took a sip of the water she’d brought out with her. On the grass, birds pecked at the fallen breadcrumbs from their lunch. “Where’shomehome?”
Brodie thought. “Nowhere.” He grinned. “Everywhere.”
She looked heavenward, his lifestyle was incorrigible. “So… what would be your plan—with Zoey—if—When you tell her who you are?”
He shrugged, all casual. “I’ll be here.”
“All the time?” she asked, brow furrowed uncertainly.
“Notall the time,” he replied, like that was crazy. “But when she wants to see me.”
Maeve stood up, she found the conversation made her skin feel too tight. “What if she wants to see youall the time?” she asked, leaning against the balcony.
He paused, had no immediate answer. Then he grinned and said, “Some of the time she wants to see me.”
Maeve frowned.
Brodie stood up, too, came to stand next to her. “I’m kidding. I’ll be here. We’ll work something out. Times I have to be here, times I don’t.”
Maeve nodded, he was too close and she couldn’t concentrate. She turned and started walking toward the water. What he’d said was fair enough. But it made her heart dip a little:times Ihaveto be here.
