If man, whether with good intent or ill, set his own hand to changing that river's course, what repercussions would it have in other areas?
No, he would leave it be and let the land and the sea, the wind and the rain fight it out.
From a few feet away, Kate studied him. He was a tall, wiry man with skin tanned and ruddy and dark hair silvering. His firm mouth was slow to smile, and slower yet were those changeable hazel eyes. Lines fanned out from those eyes, deeply scored and, in that oddity of masculinity, only enhancing his face.
He had large hands and feet, both of which he'd passed on to his son. Yet Kate knew Sam could move with an uncanny and soundless grace that no city dweller could ever master.
In Twenty years he had never welcomed her nor expected her to leave. she had simply come and stayed and fulfilled a purpose. In weak moments, Kate allowed herself to wonder what he would think or do or say if she simply packed up and left.
But she didn't leave, doubted she ever would.
she'd been in love with Sam Hathaway nearly every moment of those twenty years.
l(ate squared her shoulders, set her chin. Though she suspected he already knew she was there, she knew he wouldn't speak to her unless she spoke first.
"Jo Ellen canic in on the morning ferry."
Sam continued to watch the hawk circle. Yes, he'd known Kate was there, just as he'd known she had some reason she thought important that would have brought her to the marsh. Kate wasn't one for mud and gators.
"Why?" was all he said, and extracted an impatient sigh from l(ate.
"It's her home, isn't it?"
His voice was slow, as if the words were formed reluctantly. "Don't figure she thinks of it that way. Hasn't for a long time."
"VAiatever she thinks, it is her home. You're her father and you'll want to welcome her back."
He got a picture of his older daughter in his mind. And saw his wife with a clarity that brought both despair and outrage. But only disinterest showed in his voice. "I'll be up to the house later on."
"It's been nearly two years since she's been home, Sam. For Lord's sake, go see your daughter."
He shifted, annoyed and uncomfortable. Kate had a way of drawing out those reactions in him. "There's time, unless she's planning on taking the ferry back to the mainland this afternoon. Never could stay in one place for long, as I recall. And she couldn't wait to get shed of Desire."
"Going off to college and making a career and a life for herself isn't desertion."
Though he didn't move or make a sound, Kate knew the shaft had hit home, and was sorry she'd felt it necessary to hurl it. "she's back now, Sam. I don't think she's up to going anywhere for a while, and that's not the point."
Kate marched up, took a firm hold on his arm, and turned him to face her. There were times you had to shove an obvious point in Sam's face to make him see it, she thought. And that was just what she intended to do now.
"she's hurting. she doesn't look well, Sam. she's lost weight and she's pale as a sheet. she says she hasn't been ill, but she's lying. she looks like you could knock her down with a hard thought."
For the first time a shadow of worry moved into his eyes. "Did she get hurt on her job?"
There, finally, Kate thought, but was careful not to show the satisfaction. "It's not that kind of hurt," she said more gently. "It's an inside hurt. I can't put my finger on it, but it's there. she needs her home, her family. she needs her father."
"If Jo's got a problem, she'll deal with it. she always has."
"You mean she's always had to," Kate tossed back. she wanted to shake him until she'd loosened the lock he had snapped on his heart. "Damn it, Sam, be there for her."
He looked beyond Kate, to the marshes. "she's past the point where she needs me to bandage up her bumps and scratches."
"No, she's not." Kate dropped her hand from his arm. "she's still your daughter. she always will be. Belle wasn't the only one who went away, Sam." she watched his face close in as she said it and shook her head fiercely. "Brian and Jo and Lexy lost her, too. But they shouldn't have had to lose you."
His chest had tightened, and he turned away to stare out over the marsh, knowing that the pressure inside him would ease again if he was left alone. "I said I'd be up to the house later on. Jo Ellen has something to say to me, she can say it then."
"One of these days you're going to realize you've got something to say to her, to all of them."
she left him alone, hoping he would realize it soon.
Brian stood in the doorway of the west terrace and studied his sister. she looked frail, he noted, skittish. lost somehow, he thought, amid the sunlight and flowers. she still wore the baggy trousers and oversized lightweight sweater that she'd arrived in, and had added a pair of round wire-framed sunglasses. Brian imagined that Jo wore just such a uniform when she hunted her photographs, but at the moment it served only to add to the overall impression of an invalid.