Chapter 4 #3
The words seemed to rush from her. “I’d never had a close female friend—any friend, really—so I had no idea a woman could be that bighearted, that understanding or supportive.
Marlow has such an enormous capacity for love, and she just wrapped us up in it.
She didn’t blame me. Instead, she helped me.
She was still getting over her own devastation—the trauma of divorce proceedings, then the death of her husband, all on the heels of finding out that he was an awful cheater.
But she never blamed me. Isn’t that incredible? ”
“I think it just sounds smart. How could she blame you if you hadn’t known he was married?”
Marlow had said that often enough. Pixie shrugged. “Okay, fine. For that, I could be forgiven. But showing up on her doorstep with literally nothing but a baby and a single diaper? Brogan, that’s how dire things were for me—and yet she took me in.”
“Of course she did.”
“No, there’s no ‘of course’ to it. She could have pawned me off on someone else.
Could have told me to go to a shelter or something.
Instead, she let me in, took me to a doctor, and she and Cort, together, made sure I got healthy.
Then she taught me how to survive. I wouldn’t be who I am now without her.
She was like a big sister, a best friend, an instructor, and a tutor.
” Her excitement gained momentum, until Pixie was smiling again.
“She helped with Andy and she even gave me a job!”
Brogan smiled. “Nice.”
“Beyond nice. Incredible, even. Brogan, she accepted me. She and Cort both. Other than an aunt who took me in when …” Pixie stumbled over her words.
She was dumping enough on him already, without going into the failings of her parents.
“She raised me when my parents couldn’t.
But other than Aunt Mary, I never had family.
Definitely not close family. Now I do because they’re it.
” They were everything. “There’s not much I wouldn’t do for either of them. ”
Thoughtfully silent, Brogan pulled into the lot and parked the SUV a good distance away from the entrance in the only open spot he could find. After a few seconds while Pixie fairly held her breath, unsure how he would react, he pulled off his sunglasses and gave her a smile.
His gray-eyed gaze held her. “Sometimes, when we run out of options and we have no idea what to do, the most unlikely answer turns out to be the right one.”
Before she could sort that out, he continued.
“I’m glad Marlow was there for you. It’s like a lesson, right? Good people really do exist, and fate helps us find them when we need them the most.”
The sincerity of his words made Pixie wonder if he was talking about himself now. Had he run out of options, too? She thought of the scars she’d seen, the occasional look of yearning in his stormy eyes.
Maybe he meant that Shayna had come into his life when he’d needed her most. She wondered what experiences he’d had in the military, and if he might have faced a lack of options. As a child, he had been shut off from his father. He hadn’t yet said much about his mother.
This time, she reached for his hand. “You were there for Shayna when she needed you. I’d say that so far, fate hasn’t let her down.”
He glanced into the back seat. “They’ve gotten quiet. Do you think they’re falling asleep?”
Far too often, Brogan changed the subject on her; but then, they weren’t really even friends. They were acquaintances. She had no right to expect confidences from him just because he’d let her share part of her past. “Andy?” she said, checking whether he was getting sleepy.
“My baby.”
Pixie laughed at his reply.
“You should laugh more often.” With that cryptic comment, Brogan got out and opened the back door. “I’ll get the tank if you want to get the lightweight.”
“Sure.” She enjoyed holding Shayna. “You realize people are going to do more talking.”
“I have a plan for that,” he said. “I’ve been keeping a low profile, so with luck they’ve forgotten all about me. And if not, we’ll ignore them. Other than a quick nod if I’m spoken to, I won’t engage with anyone. Soon they’ll decide I’m not worth gossiping about.”
Pixie snorted. “You don’t have to engage. You don’t have to do anything. It won’t matter. You’re just … you, and that’s enough.” She straightened with Shayna in her arms, gently kissed the baby’s forehead, and got the blanket from her car seat.
He stared at her over the roof. “And you’re just you,” he said with conviction. “More than enough.”
“What—ouch!” The question was interrupted when Shayna grabbed a hank of her hair. “Little girl, I’m going to have to wear a bun around you.”
“Now that would be a shame.” Brogan grinned as he circled the car to assist her. “Your hair is fascinating, so I can’t blame Sugar for wanting to get a handful.” He held Andy in one arm as if he weighed nothing, and deftly loosened Shayna’s damp fingers.
Pixie quickly pulled her hair to one side, then went still when Brogan helped, smoothing it down over her shoulder and away from his niece. When she remembered to inhale, her breath shuddered.
He smiled and stepped away. “I hope they have high chairs.”
“They do, for toddlers and younger babies. If Shayna isn’t comfortable in the infant seat, we can bring in the stroller.”
He paused, undecided, then said, “I’m going to bring it just in case. I need her diaper bag anyway.”
“If you don’t mind, I could put one of Andy’s diapers in there, too. Then we won’t need both diaper bags.”
Since he was agreeable, they ended up combining their supplies. Bibs and sanitizer wipes, bottles and a sippy cup, extra blankets and sunscreen. A few toys to keep the kids occupied, as well as books.
Pixie had to laugh. “Well, this won’t confuse anyone.”
Very seriously, Brogan said, “We’re not going to worry about that, okay?”
Right. Sure. Clearly, this man doesn’t know how small towns work.
It was a few minutes more before they entered the restaurant and were greeted by a waiter—and a lot of curious stares. Brogan kept his attention on the young man offering them an option of indoor or outdoor seating, but Pixie smiled at the people she knew.
Since the deck offered a view of the lake, Pixie suggested they sit outside. It was a mild, sunny day, but the table was shaded. She knew the kids would enjoy seeing the birds that swooped over the water, along with the occasional sailboat floating by.
Andy was already in his high chair and Brogan had just finished getting Shayna settled by padding her seat with a thin cotton blanket rolled up, when they heard the roar of a boat engine.
“What in the world?” Pixie said, pushing back her chair and standing for a better view. The cove in front of the restaurant was a no-wake zone, meaning boats were prohibited from going fast enough to cause a wake.
Brogan muttered, “Shit” as he pulled his wallet and phone from his pocket and kicked off his shoes.
“What are you …?” Pixie didn’t understand, not until a fast-moving pontoon rammed right into a dock holding several people, including some young kids.
The dock shuddered, wood cracked, and people screamed as the kids fell in.
The motor continued to churn the water. “Watch the babies,” Brogan ordered, and then he was vaulting down the stairs, three at a time. He hit the grass at a full run.
“Dear God,” Pixie said, her heart in her throat as she took in the chaos.
As the driver frantically tried to reverse the boat away from the dock, she heard Brogan shout, “No!”
There were people in the water behind him! With the front of the boat wedged half up on the dock, the propeller churned, spraying water with a horrible grinding sound.
Everyone started yelling at once, but no one was doing anything.
Except Brogan. He was a man in motion as he pounded onto the dock.
In smooth succession, he grabbed the driver out of the boat, switched off the motor, and pocketed the keys. “Everyone okay?”
“My son!” a woman screamed hysterically. “I can’t find him.”
Another said, “Oh, my God, there’s blood in the water.”
Brogan didn’t hesitate to dive in. People hung at the edge of the dock, watching, waiting.
The inebriated man staggered to the shore and collapsed onto a bench.
For what felt like the longest time, Brogan didn’t come back up.
Pixie glanced at Andy and Shayna. As if they sensed the tension, they stared back at her, their eyes big and watchful, but they were okay. They weren’t fretting, thank God.
To ensure they wouldn’t see anything too awful, she half-turned their chairs. They no longer had a view of the lake, but they could still see the hill beyond, the birds and trees, as well as a part of the restaurant.
Trembling all over, she moved closer to the deck rail, her gaze searching the surface of the lake. Where was Brogan?
He emerged to a collective gasp from the crowd. In his arms, he held a limp boy whose head was covered in blood. Pixie covered her mouth, fear gripping her.
Seemingly without effort, Brogan climbed the ladder, carrying the boy. Water dripped off him, forming a puddle as he carefully laid the child on the rough wooden dock. To Pixie, the boy appeared to be only seven or eight, and he was frighteningly lifeless and pale. The crowd surged around him.
Pixie heard Brogan loudly instruct, “Call 911,” and then, “Back up, damn it!”
With obvious expectation that his orders would be carried out, he started CPR.
Tense silence gripped the onlookers as everyone anxiously waited, not moving, barely breathing, until the boy abruptly gave a harsh, sputtering gurgle that turned into a fit of coughing.
Brogan turned him to his side and held him steady.
Pixie couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she knew he was offering soothing words as he supported the boy.