The Reef

Tate.”
    “I’ve got to get back,” she said again, dazed. “Nice to have met you, Mr. LaRue.”
    “LaRue only.” He kissed her hand again. “ A bientôt. ”
    Buck shouldered LaRue aside. “I’ll walk back with you a ways.”
    “Thanks.” Tate waited until they were back on the pier and headed for shore. “Buck, you said Matthew’s been working on that boat on and off for years?”
    “Yeah, whenever he had a little extra time or money. Musta done a dozen drawings and designs ’fore he settled on this one.”
    “I see.” That kind of ambition, and tenacity, was more than she would have given him credit for. Unless . . .
    “All right.” She put a friendly hand on his arm. “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure any of this is a good idea.”
    “You mean us partnering up with Ray and Marla and going back?”
    “Yes. Finding the Marguerite was practically a miracle. The odds of it happening twice are very dim. I know it took a long time for all of us to get over the disappointment before. I hate to see you, and my parents, go through all of it again.”
    Buck paused to shove his glasses back into place. “I can’t say I’m happy about it myself.” Automatically, he reached down to rub the artificial leg. “Bad memories, bad luck. Matthew’s set, though. And I owe him.”
    “That’s not true. He owes you. He owes you his life.”
    “Maybe he did.” Buck grimaced. “Fact is, I made him pay for it. I didn’t save his father. Don’t know if I could have, but I didn’t. Never went after VanDyke. Don’t know what good it woulda done, but I didn’t. Then when my time came to pay, I didn’t take it like a man should.”
    “Don’t talk like that.” She hooked a protective arm through his. “You’re doing wonderfully.”
    “Now. For a couple of weeks. Don’t really make up for all the years between. I let the boy shoulder it all, the work and the blame.”
    “He left you alone,” Tate said furiously. “He should have stayed by you. Supported you.”
    “Done nothing but support me. Worked at a job he hated so I could have what I needed. I took it, used it and tossed it in his face every chance I got. I’m ashamed of that.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The last time I came to see you—”
    “I lied to you.” He stared down at his feet, knowing he had to risk her affection for his own self-respect. “I made it seem like he pushed me off, didn’t come around, didn’t do nothing for me. Maybe he didn’t come around much, but it’s hard to blame him. But he sent me money, took care of things best he could. Paid to have me in detox I don’t know how many times.”
    “But I thought—”
    “I wanted you to think. Wanted him to think it, too,‘cause it was easier for me if everybody was miserable. He did the best he could.”
    Far from convinced, she shook her head. “He should have stayed with you.”
    “He did what he had to do,” Buck insisted, and Tate bowed to unshakable family loyalty.
    “Regardless, this new brainstorm strikes me as being impulsive and dangerous. I’m going to do my best to talk my parents out of it. I hope you understand.”
    “Can’t blame you for thinking twice about hooking up with the Lassiters again. You do what you have to do, Tate, but I’ll tell you, your daddy’s got the wind in his sails.”
    “I’ll just have to change his course.”

C HAPTER 15
    B UT THERE WERE times when the wind ran strong and true and defeated even the most determined sailor.
    Tate tolerated Matthew’s presence at dinner. She made conversation with Buck and LaRue at the big chestnut table. She listened to their stories, laughed at their jokes.
    Her heart simply wasn’t hard enough to spoil the celebratory mood, or dim the light of delight in her father’s eyes with cold, hard facts and logic.
    Because she was sharp enough to notice her mother’s occasional looks of concern in her direction, Tate managed to be marginally polite to Matthew. Though she did her best to limit contact to the obligatory “pass the salt.”
    When the meal was over, she maneuvered the situation in her favor by insisting on clearing up the dishes alone with her father.
    “Bet you haven’t had a meal like that in a month of Sundays,” he commented, humming under his breath as he stacked dishes.
    “In a year of Sundays. I’m sorry I had to pass on the pecan pie.”
    “You’ll have some later. That LaRue’s something, isn’t