Page 2 of Island Protector

After sharing an update on sight-words, he announced, “We read the best book today.”

“All by yourself? Wow.”

Bryce’s nose wrinkled, a small reflection of his mom’s expression. “No. I don’t read that good, yet. But the teacher does.” He barely paused for a breath. “She read to us about what happens when you give a mouse a cookie.”

Miles laughed. “That is a good one.”

Bryce looked up at him with those big blue eyes, also just like Molly’s. “You know that book?”

“Isn’t that the one where if you give a mouse a cookie he wants to go fishing?”

Bryce’s mouth fell open and then he just doubled over with giggles. “No, that’s not the same story at all.”

“You’re kidding? I was sure that was it. You’d betterfill me in.”

Bryce did as Miles asked, giving a rendition of the story that was probably word for word. Or damn close anyway. The kid had a memory Miles wouldn’t want to challenge. And by the time he finished they were down on the dock, in front of the little sunfish that Bryce wanted to sail so badly.

Aunt Sharon trailed along behind them, adding to the conversation here and there. She seemed tense today, which was unusual. Miles rarely met a person more at ease with the world than Sharon. Her paintings were renowned in the Carolinas, the entire eastern seaboard, really. He’d heard she had big gallery showings as far south as Key West, Florida and up north in Portland, Maine and everywhere in between. There were rumors that one of her Chesapeake Bay paintings had sold for six-figures.

He believed it. He’d paid a couple grand for the small canvas he owned, currently displayed in his kitchen. And he had his eye on a larger piece as well, but buying it outright would draw too much attention, so he was currently negotiating through a broker.

He wondered if he should just commission her directly. Around town she was a local celebrity per the Brookwell definition, meaning she was very down to earth. Her discretion about Molly’s past proved she could be trusted with a secret.

“Look, Aunt Sharon. It’s the sunfish.”

“I see it, honey.”

“Miles will teach me how to sail by myself.” He looked up again, squinting against the afternoon sun. “Won’t you?”

“As soon as you’re ready,” Miles promised. “Where’s your mom today?” Sometimes she came down to join them if things were slow at the flower shop.

Miles had been thinking quite a bit about parenting lately. About dreams that may or may not ever come to pass for him.

Bryce was at the heart of those thoughts. He liked Molly a great deal, but he didn’t want to push her. He certainly didn’twant to take a risk that she’d feel too uncomfortable around the marina. This seemed to be Bryce’s favorite place on the island. The kid would happily talk about boats twenty-four-seven if he didn’t have to sleep.

Miles suspected that Bryce’s perfect storybook would involve giving a mouse a cookie on a sailboat.

Having survived a rotation of foster-moms sporting various skill and interest levels, Miles had strong opinions on the subject. He counted Molly as one of the best mothers he’d seen. Sharon too, though she expertly mothered her niece and great-nephew.

Somehow, despite what must’ve been tough circumstances, Molly and Sharon had found a healthy and happy solution to raise Bryce. Miles was glad the two of them had each other. And really happy that Bryce had the two kind, strong women to anchor him.

Miles had never summoned the courage to ask Molly about her life before Brookwell. It didn’t seem right when he couldn’t share many details of his years away. When they did talk, it was about Bryce’s interests or various community events.

He really wanted to find a way to crack that barrier and ask her out. As a woman, not just the mother of a small sailing fanatic. The closest he’d come was during the Halloween festival. The three of them had spent a fun evening at the event, trick-or-treating, enjoying the various games and food. He’d shown off his newest acquisition—a sailboat he was refurbishing for himself—only to learn Molly was afraid of the ocean. She hid those fears and pretended to be brave about it for her son.

“How’s your mom doing?” Miles couldn’t help himself.

“She’s sad,” Bryce declared.

“How come?” He glanced up at Sharon, who stared down in shock at her nephew.

“Oh, she’s fine, sweetie,” Sharon assured him.

Bryce shook his head, determined. His pale eyebrows snapped together as he frowned at her. “She isn’t fine. I saw her hands shaking. And her mouth was all frowny. She wassad.” He turned to Miles, tears gathering in his eyes. “I don’t know why.”

Sharon crouched down. “You’re right, honey. But she’ll be okay. She got a letter that she didn’t like. The information in the letter isherbusiness,” she added firmly, but gently.

His little chin bobbed in agreement and he sniffled. “Okay.”

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