Treasures Lost, Treasures Found

across the street again.
    “Thanks,” Kate said under her breath. She was going to need it.
    The walk was as beautiful as she remembered. She passed the little shops with their display windows showing hand-made crafts or antiques. She passed the blue and white clapboard houses and the neat little streets on the outskirts of town with their bleached green lawns and leafy trees.
    A dog raced back and forth on the length of his chain as she wandered by, barking at her as if he knew he was supposed to but didn’t have much interest in it. She could see the tower of the white lighthouse. There’d been a keeper there once, but those days were over. Then she was on the narrow path that led to Ky’s cottage.
    Her palms were damp. She cursed herself. If she had to remember, she’d remember later, when she was alone. When she was safe.
    The path was as it had been, just wide enough for a car, sparsely graveled, lined with bushes that always grew out a bit too far. The bushes and trees had always had a wild, overgrown look that suited the spot. That suited him.
    Ky had told her he didn’t care much for visitors. If he wanted company, all he had to do was go into town where he knew everyone. That was typical of Ky Silver, Kate mused. If I want you, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, back off.
    He’d wanted her once…. Nervous, Kate shifted the briefcase to her other hand. Whatever he wanted now, he’d have to hear her out. She needed him for what he was best at—diving and taking chances.
    When the house came into view, she stopped, staring. It was still small, still primitive. But it no longer looked as though it would keel over on its side in a brisk wind.
    The roof had been redone. Obviously Ky wouldn’t need to set out pots and pans during a rain any longer. The porch he’d once talked vaguely about building now ran the length of the front, sturdy and wide. The screen door that had once been patched in a half a dozen places had been replaced by a new one. Yet nothing looked new, she observed. It just looked right. The cedar had weathered to silver, the windows were untrimmed but gleaming. There was, much to her surprise, a spill of impatiens in a long wooden planter.
    She’d been wrong, Kate decided as she walked closer. Ky Silver had changed. Precisely how, and precisely how much, she had yet to find out.
    She was nearly to the first step when she heard sounds coming from the rear of the house. There was a shed back there, she remembered, full of boards and tools and salvage. Grateful that she didn’t have to meet him in thehouse, Kate walked around the side to the tiny backyard. She could hear the sea and knew it was less than a two-minute walk through high grass and sand dunes.
    Did he still go down there in the evenings? she wondered. Just to look, he’d said. Just to smell. Sometimes he’d pick up driftwood or shells or whatever small treasures the sea gave up to the sand. Once he’d given her a small smooth shell that fit into the palm of her hand—very white with a delicate pink center. A woman with her first gift of diamonds could not have been more thrilled.
    Shaking the memories away, she went into the shed. It was as tall as the cottage and half as wide. The last time she’d been there, it’d been crowded with planks and boards and boxes of hardware. Now she saw the hull of a boat. At a work table with his back to her, Ky sanded the mast.
    “You’ve built it.” The words came out before she could stop them, full of astonished pleasure. How many times had he told her about the boat he’d build one day? It had seemed to Kate it had been his only concrete ambition. Mahogany on oak, he’d said. A seventeen-foot sloop that would cut through the water like a dream. He’d have bronze fastenings and teak on the deck. One day he’d sail the inner coastal waters from Ocracoke to New England. He’d described the boat so minutely that she’d seen it then just as clearly as she saw it now.
    “I told you I would.” Ky turned away from the mast and faced her. She, in the doorway, had the sun at her back. He was half in shadow.
    “Yes.” Feeling foolish, Kate tightened her grip on the briefcase. “You did.”
    “But you didn’t believe me.” Ky tossed aside the sandpaper. Did she have to look so neat and cool, and impossibly lovely? A trickle of sweat ran down his back. “You always had a problem seeing beyond the moment.”
    Reckless, impatient, compelling. Would he always bring those words to