Brothers of Paradise Series

She gives me a smile that’s textbook old Jamie. A bit cocky, a lot confident. “Less waitressing hours.”

I laugh. “Already done. You’ll have the same amount of hours scheduled for next week, but only half will actually be waitressing. The rest is this.”

Her eyes widen, like she hadn’t anticipated an actual response. “Really?”

“Yes. I want one of those caps.” Driven by impulse, I give the end of her braid a soft tug. “You’d look good in one, too,” I say.

Jamie smiles. She’s close, and I realize I’ve never gotten as many of her smiles as I have this past week. Even if they’re still rare. “I would?”

“Yeah,” I say, letting the braid slip through my fingers. I think about the memory she brought up the other day… the night I walked her home, all those years ago. I think about her strength and her softness and her mysteries. She swallows, the movement tiny, and the noise resonates down to my very bones.

“Mommy?” Emma asks. She’s standing between us, and in her hand is a drawing.

Jamie turns away from me. “You made this?”

Her daughter nods. The drawing is a child’s masterpiece, in the way only theirs can be. “I copied the painting.”

“The painting?” Jamie asks. The drawing has two purple boat-like figures on a thin bed of blue.

“In the crayons.”

I reach across to Emma’s table and grab the flyer. It must have been wedged amongst the crayons. It’s a poster for the Paradise Shores Junior Regatta from six years ago. There’s a picture of two sailing boats on it.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“This?”

“Yes. But I put you and me in the boats,” Emma tells her mom. Her voice is tinged with excitement now, sounding more like my nephew. “Look.”

Jamie obediently locates the tiny blobs. “Oh, look at that. Do we like to sail?”

“Yes. But the other ship has pirates.”

“Pirates?” I ask, grinning. “Here in Paradise? I never knew.”

Emma nods, and gives me a tiny smile. “But they won’t catch me and Mommy.”

“No, I hope not,” Jamie says. She has a hand on Emma’s head. “Is there a treasure?”

Emma hasn’t thought that far, so much is clear from her thoughtful expression. But she points at the thin sliver of ocean she’s drawn. “There.”

“In the deep,” I say. “Of course, treasure is always buried. Have you ever been on a boat?”

She leans closer to her mom and answers me, but keeps her eyes averted. Still shy. “No.”

“Never ever?”

She shakes her head so quick her hair flies.

“There are plenty of boats here,” I say. “I have one right here, in the marina.”

Emma looks toward the window and the forest of masts gently bobbing. Behind them, the sun has begun its slow descent. “You do?”

“I do.” It’s technically my father’s, and the whole family uses it, but that information doesn’t feel relevant right now. “If your mom says it’s okay, we can look at it after this. You can stand on board and check it for pirates.”

Her eyes go round. “On board?”

“Yes.” I look over at Jamie. “But only if your mom doesn’t have other plans.”

“Mommy, let’s,” Emma says, hands gripping Jamie’s arm. Excitement makes her little face shine.

Jamie looks at me with eyes that are exasperated, and laughing, and I wonder again about Emma’s father. Where is he? A brief pulse of anger burns below my breastbone. “If Parker is sure it’s safe, then yes.”

“It’s safe as can be,” I say. “James, the boat is anchored.”

She grins. “Never stopped you from falling in before.”

“That was once,” I say, a slow smile spreading across my face, “and I can’t believe you remember that.”

“The drunken party you threw with Turner on the boat was legendary. No one could speak of anything else at school for weeks.”

“I’m sure you enjoyed that.”

She rolls her eyes. “I did not.”

“I was grounded for a month after,” I say, “and it was reckless as hell.”

“And yet, I don’t think you regret it.” She shakes her head, but Jamie looks amused. It feels like another small victory. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Emma skips ahead of us outside, her drawing forgotten on the table. I’ll grab it in the morning. Jamie walks beside me down to the marina, Emma in front of us. She puts one sandalled shoe in front of the other on the wooden dock.

“Stay close,” Jamie calls. “And you have to stay away from the edge.” Emma nods, but she peers into the blue water with every step.

I look over at Jamie. Her shoulders look slim beneath her white jean jacket, her skin clear from any makeup. Different from the person I remember… and a mother.

“You’re watching me,” she says.

“I’m just thinking of you, being a mom now and all.”

She snorts. “Oh, great. How much I’m failing, you mean?”

“Do you feel like you are?”

“Every day.”

“In my vast experience as an uncle,” I say, “I think that’s just parenthood.”

“When did you get so wise, huh?”

“I was hit by the boom one too many times,” I say. “It finally knocked some sense into me.”