“Sharp to the end. Extremely observant. Very clear on who he was. And very private. The man loved his secrets. I learned early on never to ask questions about what he’d done, where he’d lived before Santa Barbara, his professional life, his personal history. A lot of my patients, the past is clearer to them than the present.”
“Dino was different,” Noah said.
“What Dino wanted to tell me came out naturally. Because I respected his reserve, who he was, he . . .”
“Let you in.”
“I knew from the very start he was lonely. Hurting over how his family treated him. Like the guy should already be in the ground, and his refusal to just go ahead and die was keeping them from what was rightfully theirs.”
“Family,” Noah said. “Huh.”
She glanced at the men. Amos was watching his half brother. Smiling slightly. Eyes caramel-dark and warm.
Noah had shifted forward. Leaning on his elbows. Closing the distance. Totally engaged. She met his gaze. Just for a moment. Felt the intensity. The caring concern.
She blinked. Broke the connection. “I’m sorry. Where was I?”
“Dino Vicenza,” Amos said. Still focused on his brother. Still smiling. “Your late pal.”
“He loved that boat. I think maybe he saw it as his last road to freedom.” She turned back to the window, smiling at the memories. “Trapped in either his bed or his chair. Never standing up again. Never doing anything on his own. But we’d carry him out there and clamp the wheels to the stern deck, and suddenly the man was alive.”
“I know,” Noah murmured, “just how he felt.”
“He hated being a burden. Not because of me, not specifically. Dino was the most independent-minded person I’d ever met. When he couldn’t do something, when he had to ask me to take over, it cut deep.”
“Sounds like quite a guy,” Noah said.
“Dino had his dark side. Every now and then I’d catch traces of some latent fury, then he’d get it back under control and he’d be the same old stoic gentleman who’d become my friend. Towards the end, I’d use the boat as a way of keeping him from giving in to the frustration and the despair. I knew that was how he felt, watching his last days just slip away.” She found it necessary to wipe her face. “We’d check the tides and weather and wind, spend hours studying the charts. We’d decide on the day for our next outing. Which was the only reason Dino knew what day of the week it was. Counting down to the next time we were heading out.”
“He loved the boat,” Noah said.
“So much.”
“And over time you two became very close.”
“We did, yes.”
“And then you come around the corner of my house,” Noah said. “And there it was. All beat-up, smashed, and blasted by shotgun fire. No wonder you had a bad moment.”
She met his gaze again, saw the caring, the understanding, and suddenly it was all Jenna could do not to tell him the rest. How she had been promised the craft. How it was to fulfill a dream she’d inherited from her own half sister. The urge was so intense, she had no choice but gather up her purse and slide from the booth. “I better go.”
Of course they rose with her. And refused her offer to pay. And stood watching as she left.
But when she pushed through the diner’s exit and stood there on the sidewalk, blinking in the light, Jenna had no idea what to do. The old man wasright there. The sensation was so intense she was tempted to do the same as in Noah’s backyard. Just fold up, release herself to the sorrow and the utter futility . . .
“Jenna, wait.”
She jerked in surprise, turned to find Noah standing there. Still smiling. Only now she saw how one side of his mouth was canted slightly. As if his own unseen weights pulled the edge down. Revealing a vulnerability. And secrets all his very own. “Yes?”
“Have dinner with me. Not tonight. Well, sure, tonight if you want. But I’m still full from this meal . . .” His grin stretched wider, the canted weight even clearer now. “That is the lamest invitation for a date ever.”
She found herself smiling. “Thank you,” she heard herself say. “I would love that.”
CHAPTER10
Two evenings later, Jenna was seated on the bench outside her front door, basking in late-afternoon sun. Listening to birdsong. Feeling the strengthening sunset wind blow off the Pacific. Tasting the vague salty spice, even this far inland.
Defeated.
