Mail-Order Matty. Emilie Richards
who was pelting her with deadly-looking seashells. She forced open her eyes. “I see.”
“He was carrying a knife. A very sharp knife. And I wasn’t carrying anything of interest except a few dollars. I thought I was…” He shrugged.
“Dead?”
“Or thereabouts. Then I noticed the knife was shaking, the kid was shaking. And while I stood there waiting for the right moment to jump him, he collapsed.”
She made a noise low in her throat that was meant to be comforting, but it sounded more like a plea for help.
Damon continued. “He was half starved, crawling with lice, and well on his way to pneumonia. I ended up taking him to the nearest emergency room and telling them he was my nephew, so they would agree to treat him. They shot him full of antibiotics and cleaned him up, then I took him back to my hotel.”
“Minus the knife?” Her voice was faint.
“Definitely. He slept for twenty-four hours straight, and when he finally woke up we had a good long talk. Actually, I did most of the talking, but I found out enough about him to make some decisions. He has no family worth discussion. His mother was an American who died just after he was born. His father’s still living in Cuba. Kevin came to the U.S. with an aunt who moved to California when he was thirteen and didn’t invite him along. His mother’s brother teaches in Peoria, but he doesn’t want a half-Cuban nephew with an attitude. The state stepped in and put him in a group home, which he ran away from three times. The next stop would have been a locked facility, but no one was in hot pursuit. The older a kid is, the less interest the system has in him. At Kevin’s age they’d be only too happy to let him look after himself.”
“But he couldn’t…”
“Of course not.” Damon shifted in his seat so that he could watch her face. “Kevin’s brilliant, Matty. One of the brightest kids I’ve ever met. He’s tough and profane and unpolished, to say the least, but he’s got so much potential. I had to do something to give him a chance to use it.”
As sick as she felt, Matty still noticed the way Damon stepped in through the back door of his own humanity. He hadn’t admitted to compassion or affection for the teenager who had been dealt such a lousy hand by fate. He had rescued Kevin because of his potential. The rational scientist making a decision based solely on logic. Except that there was much more than objectivity in his voice.
“So you brought him to Inspiration Cay?” she said.
“He was too sick to argue. He’s been with me ever since. He works in the lab, helps take care of the place. And he inhales whatever books I give him. He doesn’t know it, but I’m tutoring him. I get books with the information he’ll need for a GED, then we talk about them when we’re working together. Once he gets his diploma and takes the SATs, he’ll be a shoo-in for a good university.”
She digested the fact that in addition to marrying a near stranger, she seemed to be taking on a teenaged boy with a dark past. “And Nanny? She’s not a runaway, too, is she?”
“Of course not.” He paused. “Not exactly.”
Her head was pounding now, in rhythm to the dips and shimmies of the nine-passenger Cessna. She felt for her airsickness bag, just to be certain it was there.
“Nanny is seventy,” Damon said. “She used to cook for a small guest house in George Town. Until everyone refused to work with her anymore. She’s…cranky. And odd. Nanny wants things her way. Her children want her to stop working and enjoy her final years. Nanny won’t have it. She still has moments of genius in the kitchen….”
“And the rest of the time?”
“Her eyesight’s not good, and her sense of smell, or maybe taste, seems to be going. She’s apt to use red pepper as paprika, mix up her herbs, french fry turnips instead of potatoes. Nanny’s meals are an adventure. Her housekeeping is… interesting.”
“Damon, where is Heidi now? She’s not with—”
“Kevin and Nanny have her. But don’t worry. They both adore her. Heidi’ll be perfectly safe, although the things they’ll do for her will be unconventional, to say the least.”
She pictured a sixteen-year-old pirate and a crotchety old woman burying a squalling infant up to her neck in the sand.
“About now you’re wondering what you got yourself into, aren’t you?”
“About now?” She closed her eyes again. The plane seemed to flutter in the air, then it dropped suddenly.
The tone of Damon’s voice changed. “Matty, are you going to be sick?”
She was, but not with Damon sitting beside her. She unsnapped her seat belt and leaped to her feet. The one advantage of a small plane was the short distance to the one and only lavatory. She found her way there with no trouble. And just in time.
* * *
George Town, with its Caribbean rhythms, its vigorous good cheer and unfailing fascination with its own goings-on, had lost its charm by the time Damon helped Matty off the plane. Her skin defined white. In fact, she was so pale she was nearly translucent. He expected to glance at her in a moment and see her bones etched in full display.
“Technically this is Moss Town,” he told her. “But it’s just a short cab ride to George Town and the boat that will take us to the cay.” He paused. “If Samuel’s waiting…”
“Boat?”
He had told her about the boat. He was sure he had. He suspected that she was firmly into denial, the only way to cope under the circumstances. “I wish we could just stay here tonight and go to the cay tomorrow, but I can’t be away from Heidi overnight.”
“I understand.” Her voice seemed to grow fainter every time she used it.
He considered leaving her at a hotel in George Town, where she could rest and recover. He could return for her tomorrow, when she was feeling better. He could bring Heidi with him, dressed in her frilliest sunsuit so that Matty couldn’t resist her. Then he could take Matty back to Inspiration Cay, where Kevin and Nanny, under his strongest threats, would be on their best behavior. There was only one problem.
He might return to find that Matty had flown the coop.
“It’s still hours to sunset….” He couldn’t make himself say that she would enjoy the boat ride. “We’ll probably make good time.”
“What’s…good time?”
He guided her through the easygoing customs ritual and helped her gather her suitcases before he answered. “The trip takes several hours…in good weather.”
“Oh…”
The weather wasn’t going to be good. He knew that from the turbulence on the plane. “I brought something for seasickness, just in case. You probably should take it now, if you think you can manage.”
She gave a brief heroic nod. He took her elbow. “We’ll get you a drink to wash it down and wait a few minutes. Sometimes the taxi rides into town are enough to make me queasy.”
Her breath caught. He was afraid that at this point it was the most forceful protest she could manage.
* * *
Matty took a double dose of motion sickness tablets. They had nearly worn off by the time Samuel arrived two hours late—Bahamian time, Damon called it—to ferry them to the cay. He was a large man, with smooth dark skin and hands as large as shovel blades. He ushered them on board with friendly chatter as the waves slapping at the jetty threatened to toss Matty to the deck. Damon seemed unaffected.
“The crossing, it’ll be a rough one,” Samuel said with a distinctive Caribbean lilt. “The boat go up and the sea go down, not always at the same time. But we’ll make it, no problem. I’ll be staying at the cay tonight for sure. Just don’ want old Nanny makin’