Children of the Sea 01 - Sea Witch

and midriff-baring jeans. Gulls wheeled and cried after the boats in the harbor. Everything appeared clear, bright, and remote, like the view through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars.
     
    Or a rifle scope.
     
    Caleb drew a deep breath and started down the hill, past Sea View Bed-and-Breakfast and Wiley’s Market. The Bar-low house was an art gallery now, the old Thompson cottage had been spruced up into a tourist center, but the narrow streets and struggling gardens hadn’t changed in fifteen years. In fifty.
     
    This is what he needed, he told himself. A sense of community, a shot at stability. Here he could assemble the pieces of a normal life to make himself whole again.
     
    But today the snug, square houses, the quiet harbor, felt as pretty and flat as one of those postcards in the gift shop. Dissatisfaction lodged in his chest like unexploded ordnance, heavy and deadly. For a moment he couldn’t breathe.
     
    He forced himself along the uneven sidewalk, his gaze lingering between the buildings. Like insurgents were going to pop from behind the Lighthouse Gift Shop and start shooting.
     
    Caleb kept walking. Positive coping actions , the shrink had counseled. Exercise. Work. Positive thinking.
     
    Sex.
     
    Which made him think again of the woman on the beach, her big, dark eyes, her wide, lush mouth. Her breasts.
     
    17
    Intimate relationships assist with relaxation and provide practical and emotional support , the Army doc had said.
     
    Okay, so seeking out a foreign tourist with a thing for uniforms probably wasn’t what the shrink had in mind, but a guy had to start somewhere. At least when Caleb was with her, he hadn’t remembered Mosul. Hell, he’d barely remembered his name. And there had been an instant, gazing into those fathomless eyes, when he’d actually felt . . .
    more than desire.
     
    Connection.
     
    The well-lit windows and red awning of Antonia’s Ristorante (PIZZA! BAKERY! SUBS! the sign proclaimed) spilled a welcome onto the sidewalk. The bell jangled as Caleb pushed open the door.
     
    Regina Barone was working behind the counter, wearing a wide, white apron and a slight, distracted frown, her dark hair strained back from her thin face.
     
    At the sound of the bell, she looked up, the frown dissolving. “Hi, Cal.”
     
    He smiled. “Reggie.”
     
    They’d known each other forever. He remembered her as a skinny, abrasive, ambitious girl, desperate to get off the island and out from under her mother’s thumb. He’d heard she’d landed the job of sous chef in some fancy big-city restaurant, New York or Boston. She had a tattoo now, on her wrist, and a small gold crucifix around her neck.
     
    But here she was, back on World’s End, working in the family restaurant. Here they both were.
     
    Why didn’t he want sex with her?
     
    Regina’s eight-year-old son, Nick, hunched in a red vinyl booth in the corner, scribbling.
     
    “How’s the homework going?” Caleb asked.
     
    Nick shrugged. He was a cute kid, with his mother’s thin build and expressive Italian eyes.
     
    18
     
    “Fractions,” Regina explained. “He hates them.”
     
    Nick’s chin thrust out. “I don’t see why I have to learn them, that’s all. Not if I’m going to help Nonna in the restaurant.”
     
    Regina’s mouth tightened.
     
    “Got to learn your fractions,” Caleb said. “How else can you make a half-mushroom, half-pepperoni pizza?”
     
    Regina threw him a grateful look. “That’s right,” she told Nick.
    “You work in the kitchen, you need fractions. Half a cup. Three quarters of a teaspoon.”
     
    “I guess,” Nick said. He bent back over his homework.
     
    Regina smiled at Caleb. “So, what can I do for you?”
     
    Invitation lurked under her words, wary yet unmistakable. She was a good woman, with a great kid and just enough baggage to balance his load. He tried to summon something, a spark, a tug, and felt . . . numb.
     
    “What have you got to go tonight?” he asked.
     
    “Besides pizza?” Shrugging, Regina wiped her hands on her apron and nodded toward the refrigerator case. “Lobster roll, clam chowder, lemon garlic chicken, shrimp-and-tortellini salad.”
     
    “Nice,” Caleb said. “Your mother know you’re catering to the yacht set now?”
     
    Regina’s eyes cooled. “We talked about it. What’ll you have?”
     
    Something there, Caleb thought. But unless the Barones took after each other with kitchen knives, it was none of his