The Husband She Never Knew

“Are you ready?” he called to Vicki over the wind.

She crunched the hat onto her head, tied the chin straps and hunched into the collar of her jacket. While she held the panel with both hands, Jamie efficiently twisted each nut onto the pegs until the shutter was secure. Then he picked up the next panel, overlapped it with the first one, and the process began again.

He returned to the shed for a second and third load of shutters, and he and Vicki worked their way around the wooden catwalk to secure all the windows. The rain drove furiously, strafing the steadily sagging canvas of Vicki’s hat. Rivulets streamed down her face and neck. Despite having nothing to keep water from his own eyes, Jamie worked with military precision. In less than an hour, he held up the last shutter and took the four remaining nuts from the bag.

“So, Vicki, why now?” he shouted as he twisted the first nut into place.

She kept her palms flat against the metal and wiped the side of her face on her sleeve. “What do you mean?” she yelled back.

“The divorce,” he said in such a nonchalant manner they might have been sitting down to dinner, instead of gargling rainwater. “What made you ask for a divorce today?”

He turned the second nut. She wondered how he managed to concentrate on his task, much less carry on a conversation in this wind. “It’s time, don’t you think?”

“No doubt about that. But I was just wondering. If you let thirteen years go by, there must be a specific reason that brought you to Pintail Point now.”

She waited while he finished his task. Then, seeing no reason not to tell him, she shouted above the roar of the elements. “I’m getting engaged!” For no reason she could fathom, she added, “I think.”

He nodded. “We’re done here. Let’s get dry.”

They walked around to the door and slogged inside. If it hadn’t been for the glow of the TV screen and one lamp, the houseboat would have been black as pitch. No daylight, gray though it was, filtered through the shutters into the interior. She and Jamie were entombed in a cocoon, and Vicki shivered in claustrophobic reaction.

Jamie flicked switches and pulled lamp chains until soft light filled the living room. “Makes a difference having the shutters up,” he said. “Boggles my mind each time I realize I’ll have to get by without any daylight. You’ll get used to it in a few minutes.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Of course by then, we’ll probably lose power.”

She rolled up her sleeves and reached for the towel she’d used earlier. “I hope you have supplies in case that happens.”

“Lanterns and candles. When you live out here, you know what to expect and how to prepare.”

Her shirt was soaked. She plucked the material away from her chest and arms, but it didn’t ease an overall clammy feeling. And then suddenly, the dampness didn’t matter. What the CNN reporter was saying took precedence over every other emotion.

“Imogene is now verging on category-two status.”

Jamie stepped closer to the television and focused on the report.

“Did you hear that?” Vicki asked.

“I did. Let’s hear what else the man has to say.”

“The storm has slowed, giving Imogene time to gather strength. Hurricane-force winds extend thirty-five miles from the center.”

A yellow triangle produced by the network’s graphics department swept a narrow path along the northernmost North Carolina coast.

The meteorologist continued his grim forecast. “Imogene’s landfall in approximately five hours is predicted to be somewhere in this vicinity. By that time she could be a strong category-two storm.”

Vicki looked at Jamie’s profile, expecting to see the placid expression of a man who faced life’s obstacles with optimism. What she saw were fine lines extending from narrowed eyes. And jaw muscles clenched with tension. “Oh, my God, you’re worried,” she said.

He glanced around the living room. “Not worried so much as grateful we got the shutters up. I think we’re going to need them. But at her worst, Imogene will still just be a category two. The houseboat can withstand that. I am concerned about the shed, though.”

Then, as if he realized in that moment that he was soaked to the skin, he added, “No use standing here like drowned rats. And speaking for myself, hungry, drowned rats at that.”

His confidence was returning. Thank goodness. “I should change,” Vicki said.

Jamie took emergency lights from a cupboard and set them on a serving bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. Then he jerked his thumb at her slim briefcase. “Did you pack a change of clothes in that thing, as well as our divorce papers?”

“Oh, no!” Everything she needed was in the rental car—her clothes, her purse, her cell phone with the battery running down. This astounding lack of fore-thought sent her scurrying to the exit. “I have to go outside.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “I don’t think that’s such a clever idea.”

She flung the door open. Rain and wind pelted her face and soaked the last few patches of clothing that weren’t already sodden. She fought the wind until she heard the latch click into the frame again.

Jamie chuckled and pointed to a doorway leading off the living room. “In there. Second dresser drawer on the left. Clean T-shirts. Flannel pants. Nothing fussy, I’m sorry to say.”

“Thank you. I’ll manage.”

“Do you like stew?” he asked before she left the room.

“Love it.”

She heard the sound of a cabinet door opening and closing, followed by a pot hitting the stove burner as she walked into Jamie’s bedroom. And his voice again. “Is he anyone I know?”

She unbuttoned her blouse. “Who?”

“This fella you think you might be engaged to. Do I know him?”

So he had heard her explanation out on the porch. She smiled. “Considering that you and I have only one acquaintance in common, and I haven’t seen Kenny in years, I rather doubt you know my boyfriend.”

“You’re probably right, though stranger coincidences have happened. Take today, for instance. Beasley and I got up this morning, had eggs and bacon, fertilized a few plants outside and planned on spending a quiet afternoon catching blue crabs. And now, here we are, a hurricane coming, and my long-lost wife putting on my skivvies in the next room. If that’s not a corker, I don’t know what is.”

Vicki couldn’t argue. When she left Fort Lauderdale a few hours ago, she certainly hadn’t intended to have more than a five-minute conversation with Jamie Malone. Now, two hours later, she was staring at her reflection in his bedroom mirror with a McGilley’s Pub T-shirt hugging her chest. What would Graham think?

She gripped the edge of the dresser and spoke to the pale face staring back at her. “Oh, my God, Graham.” She’d promised to call him. He thought she was in Virginia to look at some eighteenth-century antiques she’d heard about. Not only had she lied about her reason for taking this trip, but now there was a good chance she wouldn’t be returning when she’d planned. And once Graham heard about the storm, he’d be terribly worried. She had to let him know she was all right.

Vicki pulled on a pair of soft flannel pants and dashed into the living room. “I have to use your phone.”

Jamie looked up from a steaming pan and motioned to the telephone. “Be my guest.”

She turned away from Jamie’s direct gaze and dialed Graham’s cell-phone number. He answered on the second ring. “Graham Townsend.”

“Hi. It’s me.”

He blew out an impatient breath. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling your cell for hours. I’ve left three messages.”

“I’m sorry. It’s raining really hard here. I left the cell phone in my car and now the battery’s probably dead.” Vicki glanced over her shoulder at Jamie. She figured he was listening, though he pretended otherwise. He smiled at her and set two plates on the counter. And Vicki missed most of what Graham had just said.

“Bad connection, Graham. Would you repeat that?”

“I said—” he sounded impatient “—we received confirmation on that container from Amsterdam. The furniture will arrive in time for the opening of your shop.”

“That’s wonderful.” It meant she’d have to rearrange everything to make room for the new arrivals, but it was good news. Graham had convinced her that he and a contact in Holland had found some fabulous antiques. The Dutch dealer was sending them via the fastest shipper.