Chapter Eighteen
EIGHTEEN
AS Giff drove up the road to Sanctuary, he saw Lexy. She stood on the second-floor terrace, her long legs prettily displayed in cuffed cotton shorts, her hair bundled messily on top of her head. She was washing windows, which he was sure would have her in one of her less hospitable moods.
As appealing a picture as she made, she would have to wait. He needed to talk to Brian.
She saw Giff park his pickup but barely spared him a glance. Her smile was smug as she polished off the mixture of vinegar and water with newspaper until the windowpane shone. She’d known he would come around, though it had taken him longer than she’d expected.
But she decided to forgive him—after he crawled just a little.
She bent to soak her rag again, turning her head a bit, slanting her eyes over and down. Then sprang straight up when she saw Giff was heading not toward the house and her but toward the old smokehouse, where Brian was painting porch furniture.
Why, that rattlesnake, she thought, slapping the cleaning solution on the next window.
If he was waiting for her to come to him, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
She’d never forgive him now. Not if she lived to be a thousand years old.
He could crawl over hot coals, she thought, furiously polishing the window.
He could beg and plead and call her name on his deathbed and she would laugh gaily and walk on.
From this moment on, Giff Verdon meant less than nothing to her.
She picked up her bucket and moved three windows down so she could keep an eye on him.
At the moment, Lexy and her moods weren’t at the forefront of Giff’s mind. He caught the oversweet smell of fresh paint, heard the hiss of the sprayer. He worked up a smile as he rounded the stone corner of the smokehouse and saw Brian.
Little dots of sea-blue paint freckled his arms to past the elbows, and polka-dotted the old jeans he wore. An army-green tarp was spread out and covered with chaises and chairs. Brian was giving the old glider a second coat.
“Nice color,” Giff called out.
Brian moved the nozzle slowly back and forth another stroke before disengaging it. “You know Cousin Kate. Every few years she wants something different—and always ends up going with blue.”
“Freshens them up nice, though.”
“It does.” Brian flicked the motor off, set the sprayer down. “She’s ordered new umbrellas for the tables, pads for the chairs. Should be in on the ferry in another day or two. She wants the picnic tables painted over at the campground, too.”
“I can take care of that if you don’t have time.”
“I’ll probably do it.” Brian rolled his shoulders free of kinks. “Gets me out in the air. Gives me some daydreaming time.” He’d just been having a nice one, too, replaying his night with Kirby.
He knew he would never think of a stethoscope in quite the same way again.
“How’s that porch coming?”
“Got the screening in the truck. The weather looks like it’s going to hold, so I should be finished by end of the week, like Miss Kate wanted.”
“Good. I’ll try to come by and take a look at it.”
“How’s the hand doing?” Giff asked, nodding toward the bandage.
“Oh.” Frowning, Brian flexed his fingers.
“A little stiff is all.” Brian didn’t ask how Giff had heard about it.
News simply floated on the island’s air—especially the juiciest tidbits.
The fact was, he considered it a wonder no one knew that he’d spent most of the night on the good doctor’s examining table.
“You and Doc Kirby, huh?”
“What?”
“You and Doc Kirby.” Giff adjusted his cap.
“My cousin Ned was down to the beach early this morning. You know how he collects shells, polishes them up and sells them off to day-trippers down to the ferry. Seems he saw you leaving the doc’s this morning about daybreak. You know how Ned runs his mouth.”
So much for wonders, Brian mused. “Yeah, I do. How long did it take him to pass the news?”
“Well ...” Amused, Giff rubbed his chin. “I was heading down to the ferry to see if the screen came in, saw Ned on Shell Road and gave him a lift. That would make it, oh, about fifty minutes, give or take.”
“Ned’s slowing down.”
“Well, he’s getting up in age, you know. Be eighty-two come September. Doc Kirby’s a fine woman,” Giff added. “Don’t know anybody on the island doesn’t think high of her. Or you, Bri.”
“We’ve spent a few evenings together,” Brian muttered and crouched down to rub the nozzle tip with a rag. “People shouldn’t start smelling orange blossoms.”
Giff lifted a brow. “Didn’t say they were.”
“We’re just seeing each other some.”
“Okay.”
“Nobody’s thinking about making it a permanent relationship, or tangling it up with strings.”
Giff waited a moment. “You trying to convince me, Bri, or is somebody else here?”
“I’m just saying—” Brian caught himself, lifting his hands as if to signal himself to call a halt.
He straightened again and tried not to be irritated by the bland and innocent smile on Giff’s face.
“Did you come by here just to congratulate me on sleeping with Kirby, or is there something else on your mind?”
Giff’s smile faded. “Ginny.”
Brian sighed, discovered that the tension balled dead center at the back of his neck couldn’t be rubbed away. “The cops called here this morning. I guess they talked to you, too.”
“Didn’t have squat to say. I don’t think they’d have bothered to call if I hadn’t been hassling them. Damn it, Brian, you know they’re not looking for her. They’re barely going through the motions.”
“I wish I could tell you different.”
“They said we could make up flyers, hand them out around in Savannah. What the hell good is that?”
“Next to none. Giff, I wish I knew what to say to you. But you know, Ginny’s twenty-six years old and free to come and go as she pleases. That’s how the cops look at it.”
“That’s the wrong way to look at it. Ginny has family here, she has a home and friends. No way she’d have taken off without a word to anyone.”
“Sometimes,” Brian said slowly, “people do things you never expect they would do. Never believe they could do. But they do them just the same.”
“Ginny’s not your mama, Brian. I’m sorry this brings back a bad time for you and your family. But this is now. This is Ginny. It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not.” Brian forced himself to keep his voice and his temper even.
“Ginny didn’t have a husband and three children.
If she decided to shake the sand out of her shoes, she wasn’t leaving lives broken behind her.
Now I’ll keep talking to the police, I’ll see they’re called at least once a week to keep Ginny in their heads.
We’ll make up the flyers for you in the office.
I just can’t do any more than that, Giff.
I’m not having my life turned inside out a second time. ”
“That’s fine.” Giff nodded stiffly. “That’s fine, then. I’ll get out of your way so you can go about your business.”
Fury lengthened his stride as he stalked back to the truck. He climbed in, slammed the door behind him. Then just lowered his head onto the steering wheel.
He’d been wrong. All the way wrong. Sniping at Brian that way, going stiff and snooty on him.
It wasn’t Brian’s fault or his responsibility.
And it wasn’t right, Giff added, as he sat back and closed his eyes, for a friend to cut into another that way.
He’d just give himself a moment to calm and to settle, then he’d go back and apologize.
Lexy sauntered out of the house. She’d streaked down the inside stairs, nearly breaking her neck in her hurry to be sure Giff didn’t drive off before she could taunt him with what he couldn’t have.
And her heart was still racing. But she moved slowly now, one hand trailing along the banister, a distant smile on her face.
She moseyed up to the truck and, forgetting that her hands smelled of vinegar, propped them on the bottom of the open window. “Why, hello there, Giff. I was about to take a little walk in the woods to cool off, and saw your truck.”
He opened his eyes, looked into hers. “Go on then, Lexy,” he murmured and leaned over to turn the key.
“What is it?” The misery in his eyes was a balm for her soul. “You feeling poorly, Giff? Maybe you’re feeling blue.” She trailed a fingertip up his arm. “Maybe you’re wishing you knew how to apologize to me so you wouldn’t be so lonely these days.”
His eyes remained dark, but the shadows in them shifted from misery to temper. He pushed her hand aside. “You know what, Alexa? Even my limited little world doesn’t revolve only around you.”
“You’ve got your nerve, thinking you can talk to me that way. If you think I care what your world revolves around, Giff, you’re very mistaken. I couldn’t care less.”
“Right now that makes two of us. Get away from the truck.”
“I will not. Not until I’ve had my say.”
“I don’t give a damn what you have to say, now back off before you get hurt.”
She did just the opposite, stretching through the open window to turn the key and shut the engine down. “Don’t you order me around.” She stuck her face in his. “Don’t you think for one minute you can tell me what to do, or threaten me into doing it.”
She sucked in a breath, prepared to scold him properly. But there was misery in his eyes again, more than she’d ever seen or expected to. Her temper subsided, and she laid a hand on his cheek. “What’s the matter, honey? What’s hurting you?”
He started to shake his head, but she kept her hand in place. “We can be mad at each other later. You talk to me now. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Ginny.” He let out an explosive breath that scalded his throat. “Not a word from her, Lexy. Not a single word. I don’t know what to do anymore. What to say to my family anymore. I don’t even know how to feel.”
“I know.” She slipped back, opened the door. “Come on.”
“I’ve got work to do.”