Patrick's Destiny. Sherryl WoodsЧитать онлайн книгу.
better call him and tell him what’s happened,” Patrick said. “You need to get home and into some dry clothes.”
“I’ll see that he gets home,” the woman in charge of the group informed him stiffly.
“You sure you can handle that and keep an eye on the others, too?” Patrick inquired, nodding toward the brood that was already racing off in a dozen different directions.
Muttering a very unladylike oath under her breath, she charged back to shore and rounded up the children for a second time. She looked as if she’d like nothing better than to tie each and every one of them to a hitching post.
Patrick took pity on her and carried the still-shivering Ricky back to join the others. With two adults presenting a united front, maybe they’d have a shot at averting any more disasters.
“Let’s take ’em all over to Jess’s where they can warm up while you call Matt Foster and get him down here,” Patrick suggested. He headed off in that direction without waiting for a reply. A firm grip on his arm jerked him to a stop.
“I don’t think a bar is an appropriate place for a group of five-year-olds,” she told him.
He frowned down at her. “You have a better suggestion?”
“We could take them back to the school. That’s what we should do,” she said, though without much enthusiasm.
Patrick understood her reluctance. The school’s principal, Loretta Dowd, had to be a hundred years old by now, and she wasn’t known for her leniency. Patrick knew that from his own bitter experience. He’d been every bit as rambunctious as Ricky at his age. There would be hell to pay for this little incident.
“Miss Dowd knows about this outing, then?” he asked, guessing that it had been an impromptu and ill-advised decision. “Permission slips to leave the school grounds are all on file?”
She faltered at that, then sighed. “No,” she admitted. “I suppose the bar is a better choice, at least for a few minutes.”
“It won’t be busy at this time of day,” he consoled her. “Most of the fishermen came in hours ago. And you know how Molly likes to cluck over kids.”
Jess’s had been catering to Widow’s Cove fishermen for three generations. Jess had long since passed on, but his granddaughter ran the place with the same disdain for frills. Molly served cold beer and steaming hot chowder, which was all that mattered to her regulars.
When Patrick and Ms. Newberry trooped inside with the children, Molly came out from behind the bar, took one look at the dripping wet Ricky and began clucking over him as predicted.
“What on earth?” Molly asked, then waved off the question. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’ll have hot chocolate ready in no time.” She looked at the teacher and frowned. “Alice, you look terrible. Sit down before you faint on me. Patrick, get the children settled, then for heaven’s sakes go and put on some dry pants and a warm shirt under that jacket. I have some of granddad’s I can lend you. They’re hanging in the pantry on the way to the kitchen. Help yourself. I’ll be back in a minute. While I’m in the kitchen, I’ll give Matt a call and tell him to get over here to pick up Ricky.”
Patrick knew better than to balk openly at one of Molly’s orders. She might be his age, but she’d had Jess as an example. She could boss around a fleet of marines without anyone questioning her authority. Besides, one glance at Alice Newberry told him that she was in no condition to take charge. He’d never seen a grown woman look quite so defeated. He had a hunch that today’s misadventure was the last straw in a long string of defeats.
He studied her with a bit more sympathy. Every last bit of color had drained out of her delicate, heart-shaped face, and her brown hair had been whipped into a tangle of curls by the wind. The fact that she was making no attempt at all to tame them spoke volumes. Her hands were visibly trembling, as well. If she wasn’t in shock, she was darn close to it. He tried not to feel too sorry for her, since she’d brought this mess on herself, but a vulnerable woman could cut through his defenses in a heartbeat. Usually he knew enough to avoid them like the plague. This one had reached out and grabbed him when his defenses were down.
“Sit,” he ordered her as he passed by on his way to the bar. Hot chocolate might be great for the kids, but she clearly needed something a lot stronger. He could use the heat from a glass of whiskey himself. He poured two shots and took them back to the table where she was sitting, then slid in opposite her. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when she reacted with dismay.
“I can’t drink that,” she said. “It’s the middle of the day and I’m working.”
Patrick shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He tossed back his own drink, grateful for the fire that shot through his veins. It was only a temporary flash of heat, but it was welcome and would do until he could get home and into his own dry pants.
When he glanced across the table, he found Alice Newberry’s solemn gaze locked on him. He had a feeling a man could drown in those golden eyes if he let himself.
“I never thanked you,” she said. “You saved Ricky’s life. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”
“You would have jumped in after him,” he said, giving her the benefit of the doubt.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I froze. It’s like it happened in slow motion and I couldn’t move.”
“You only froze for a second,” he said, surprised by his reluctance to add to her obvious self-derision. “It all happened very quickly.”
“That’s all it takes. In a second, everything can change. One minute someone’s there and alive and healthy…the next, they’re gone.”
Something told him she was no longer talking about Ricky Foster’s misadventure. Something also told him he didn’t want to know what demons she was wrestling with. He had more than enough of his own.
Now that he knew who she was, he had a dim recollection of hearing the gossip that the new kindergarten teacher in Widow’s Cove was returning home after some personal tragedy. Everyone spoke of it in whispers. Patrick hadn’t listened to the details. They hadn’t mattered to him. He made it a practice to keep everyone at a distance, to remain completely uninvolved in their lives. It was the one sure way to avoid being betrayed. He had no family in Widow’s Cove and few friends. And he liked it that way.
“Yeah, bad stuff happens like that,” he said neutrally, in response to Alice’s lament. “But all’s well that ends well. Ricky will be fine once he gets into some dry clothes. You’ll be fine once the shock wears off.”
She studied him with surprise. “You didn’t sound so philosophical down on the dock. I believe you asked me what the hell I was thinking.”
He shrugged. “It seemed like a valid question at the time.” Now that the crisis was over, his temper had cooled and his own share in the guilt had crept in.
“It was a perfectly reasonable question,” she agreed, surprising him.
“I don’t suppose you have a perfectly reasonable answer, do you?”
She nodded. “Actually, I do. The children were getting restless at school. Spring break starts tomorrow. I thought a walk would do them good. The next thing I knew, Ricky spied the last of the fishing boats coming in. He begged to come and see what kind of catch everyone had. He swore to me that he’d stay with the group. Everyone agreed not to run. I took them at their word.”
She shrugged and gave Patrick a wry look. “Obviously, I should have known better. Five seconds later, Ricky spied something, who knows what, and forgot all about his promise. He took off, and the next thing I knew they were all off and running. I’ve been teaching five-year-olds long enough now to have anticipated something like that.”
“Maybe so, but you couldn’t anticipate Ricky tripping,” Patrick