was nothing left of her own craft. The proud teak and mahogany hardwood of Neptune’s Bride was gone, in its place a mess of blackened, floating debris. She knew that what remained of the hull and the engine lay at the bottom of the harbor. With crafts docked so close to one another, and with the usual seaside breezes, plus the flammability of water-resistant wood, no one seemed surprised that her downwind craft had suffered.
Slip neighbors hurried to her side, assuring her that they’d managed to save all her maps and some of her dive gear. They promised to load it into her truck as soon as they’d cleaned it up. Officer Elliot murmured sympathy then asked for her boat registration numbers and a phone number where she could be reached.
Aurora couldn’t answer. She heard Jordan give Donna’s phone and address to Elliot and still couldn’t answer. Fists clenched, she stared at what was left of her ship. First her family had been taken away; now her home and her livelihood. As for her neighbor smoking and falling asleep—she wondered if that wasn’t just a convenient story, but wasn’t calm enough to ask. Keith did like his beer, but she’d never seen him smoke before, not on the boat anyway. He might be untidy, but he wasn’t a total fool—even though the police seemed to think he was.
Aurora heard nothing as those around her tried to help with awkward pats and offers of assistance. Finally she felt Jordan’s arm slip around her waist. Her eyes meeting his, she said aloud what was running through her mind, over and over again.
“This was no accident.”
* * *
THE SOUNDS AND SMELLS of traffic, lawns watered at night and general beachfront suburbia hit Aurora as she parked her truck in the darkness of Dorian’s Oceanside driveway.
“Here we are,” she said to Jordan, forcing a note of the commonplace into her speech. “This is Dorian’s house. Better than a hotel, and you can’t beat the price.”
Jordan didn’t open his door. Instead, he took Aurora’s hand. “You don’t need to put on a stiff upper lip for me,” he said sympathetically.
“And what would you have me do, Jordan? Sob? Scream? Shake my fist at the sky?”
Jordan exited and came around to open her door. “After the hurricane, I did.”
She locked the truck and fumbled with the keys on her ring. “You lost family. Mine are still alive. I refuse to shed tears over some burned wood and brass. Anyway, it’s only seven years old, so it’s insured.” Her voice wavered a bit despite the resignation of her words.
She’s in no mood for sympathy, Jordan realized as he followed her into Dorian’s house. Not yet. Personally, he was having a hard time controlling his own emotions. He wanted to take Aurora into his arms and kiss away her pain. He didn’t, but only because he knew she would refuse his sympathy. He felt it, nonetheless.
Neptune’s Bride will never sail again.
“You can have the guest bedroom,” she said. “I’ll sleep in Tanya’s room. I’ll get some clothes for both of us from the master bedroom. You and Gerald are close enough in size. Sorry about your suitcase going down with the ship.”
“It’s all right, Aurora,” Jordan said, trying to reassure her.
Aurora didn’t respond. “I’m going to check Dorian’s messages. Make yourself at home. The guest room has a bathroom. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”
“You want anything?” Jordan asked.
“A citrus drink—lime would be good,” she replied before heading down the hall. “Anything to wash away the taste of smoke.” Her voice broke and she disappeared into the master bedroom.
“Aurora...” No answer. Jordan pulled out a lime citrus drink. He opened the freezer, found a frozen apple pie and, after studying the microwave controls, managed the defrost setting. Making coffee was next on his list. By the time Aurora rejoined him in the kitchen, pie, drinks and the appropriate silverware were waiting on the small breakfast table.
“Hope you don’t mind,” Jordan said, pulling out a chair for her. “You said make yourself at home.”
“Even if we hadn’t had dinner, I don’t think I could eat a thing,” Aurora said.
Jordan opened her bottle and passed it to her. “You missed out on dessert.” He pointed at the pie. “Want some?”
“No, but go ahead.”
Jordan cut himself a generous portion of pie. “Sure you don’t want the sugar boost?”
Aurora ran her fingers through smoky-smelling hair. “I’ve never understood how people can eat when they’re upset.”