Claire leaned over the railing. "They're reunited!"

He draped his arm around her. "They didn't forget him. I knew they wouldn't. I can only imagine how his mother feels about now."

The turquoise of the sea reflected the blue bowl overhead, and kelp floated just offsh.o.r.e the island. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this content. The mainland was out of sight, and so were their problems for now.

Claire leaned over the side of the boat and slapped the water. The little orca swam to her but quickly went back to its pod. She smiled. "It's the way it should be. He'll soon forget all about us and the way we called him."

He smiled down at Claire, and his pulse did a little flip in his chest. "Let's stay out here awhile and forget everything back on land. You're a mermaid today."

She looked like a mermaid today too. Her light-brown hair, whipped by the wind, hung in a shiny tangle down her shoulders. In white shorts and a blue top that emphasized her gorgeous eyes, she looked tanned and beautiful. He'd smelled coconut oil when he kissed her, and he could have buried his face in her neck all day.

Her teasing smile came. "And you're Poseidon. We just have to find you a trident."

"Would you believe I have one at home? My sister got it for me when I joined the Coast Guard. It's hanging on the wall back home in Portland."

She straightened a bit. "Are you going back? You weren't sure the last time we talked about it."

"I don't think I have a choice. It's almost time for me to reenlist or get out. I'm not sure I'll be happy with a world as narrow as Folly Shoals. I love the difference I can make in the Coast Guard." He shrugged. "Though I haven't e-mailed my boss yet. I guess I keep hoping for a miracle."

She pa.s.sed her hand over her forehead. "At least you have options. I'm not sure what's going to happen to me." Her blue eyes were filled with anguish. "If I'm not Claire Dellamare, who am I, Luke?" Her fingers trembled in his. Her eyes were luminous with tears.

Her hand was soft and trusting in his, and he squeezed it.

The pathos in her voice tore at his heart. "Claire Dellamare is just a name, honey. You're still you. You love the sea, and you will fight for the downtrodden, even if it's just a little lost orca. You're smart and beautiful and kind. You don't let anything deter you when you're on a quest, and you're gentle with your parents even when they drive you crazy. Because they are still your parents, Claire. That relationship is the same even if you don't have their blood."

"I'm not so sure. My mom threw things at my dad. I'll be surprised if their marriage survives this."

He couldn't argue with that. With his thumb Luke caught the tear rolling down her cheek and rubbed it away. "A mermaid's tears are precious. Sea gla.s.s is said to be made of mermaid tears."

She fingered a sea gla.s.s pendant at her neck. "I collect sea gla.s.s, so maybe you're right."

He pressed his lips against her sweet-smelling hair. "Have you always had an affinity for the sea?"

She nodded under his lips. "Ever since I can remember. My parents have always rolled their eyes at how often I begged to go to the beach when I was little. Mom can't swim and Dad hates to get in the water. I'm like a fish. I bob to the top even when I try to kick my way to the bottom. I'm not sure I could drown even if I tried."

The pa.s.sion in her voice made his own love of the sea seem tame. Maybe she really was a mermaid.

She sat up, away from the circle of his arm. "We should get back. I'd like to talk to Priscilla Loughenberry who works in the hotel. She was there when it all happened. Maybe she can tell me who else to talk to." Leaning her back against the railing, she turned to face him. The wind tossed her thick hair over her head. "I'll run up to my suite and change, then meet you in the lobby."

He rose and put his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "I don't think we have much time. We've got to resolve this. Someone thinks you can identify him or he wouldn't have broken into your suite and tried to smother you."

His gut clenched as the likely scene played out in his head. She'd been alone, defenseless. A monster walked the streets of Folly Shoals. Could it be someone he knew?

She nodded. "He'll be back, Luke. I know it. I'm going to try to recreate the picture I painted of his face."

"I still have my copy. I can get posters printed, and we can put them up all over the coast, even over to Summer Harbor and Bar Harbor. Someone will recognize him."

His confidence felt hollow, though, and he could feel the grains of sand falling through the hourgla.s.s.

THIRTY.

A low cloud of gray hovered over the horizon, and the sea breeze hinted of rain as it stirred the white sheers on either side of the gla.s.s doors. Tendrils of fog swirled through the evergreen branches in the distance. Claire stuck a few pins in her wind-tossed hair, then headed down to meet Luke. She opened the door and came face-to-face with her mother, who held a tissue to her nose and peered back through red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Dad stood right behind her, and he was white as well. "Mom, Dad."

Her mother dabbed her eyes. "We need to talk to you, honey."

She stood aside for them to enter. "Of course."

Uncertain how to comfort her mother, Claire stood with her hands awkwardly at her side. "Are you all right, Mom?"

Her mother shook her head, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Claire had never seen her mother in such a state. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut, and she'd cried off every bit of makeup. Dad looked more controlled, but he shifted from foot to foot.

Her mother went to perch on the side of the unmade bed. "You tell her, Harry. I can't."

Her father wandered over to the desk and flipped through the black binder of hotel information as if he couldn't look her in the face. Claire barely breathed as she waited for him to speak. She glanced back at her mother who was crying again. Claire shivered at her expression of desolation.

Her father turned to face her. He tugged at the neck of his b.u.t.ton-down navy shirt. "Everything Kate said is true, Claire. She's my daughter. I haven't seen her or her mother in at least seventeen years. I'm sorry." He glanced at his wife. "The affair was a terrible mistake. After all we went through, I knew Lisa was the woman I truly loved."

That was it? But looking at her father's face, she knew another blow was about to be delivered, and she fisted her hands.

Her mother twisted the tissue in her hands. "Tell her the rest."

Dread curled through Claire's midsection. "What's Mom talking about?"

He pa.s.sed his hand over his hair and exhaled. "It's about when we found you." He glanced at his wife as if he hoped she'd stop him, but she kept her head down and didn't look at him. "After Claire wandered off, your mom had a nervous breakdown."

He hadn't said you. Claire grabbed the back of the armchair for support.

"The doctor admitted Lisa to a mental hospital for observation after she took a bottle of pills. I was desperate to find Claire, so I came back here on the anniversary of her disappearance. I knew I had to bring Claire home or I'd lose Lisa too."

Claire gave a slight nod. She wasn't their daughter. The evidence stared her in the face. G.o.d, give me strength.

"I found you in the woods. You were alone, and you looked so much like our Claire that I was sure I'd found you, even though you didn't recognize me. So I just . . . took you home with me. I never bothered to find out where you'd been. All I wanted to do was get to the hospital so Lisa could hold you."

She clearly understood what he wasn't telling her. "You didn't want to run the risk of someone proving I wasn't really Claire Dellamare so you kidnapped a lone little girl in the woods and took her out of state before anyone could object." The strength sagged out of her legs, and she sank onto the cushions of the chair.

"I guess that's the bald truth of it, honey."

Rage began to simmer in her belly, burning its way to her cheeks. "So what you told me about trying to find out where I'd been that year was a lie. Right?"

Red spotted his face, but he held her glance and nodded. "I couldn't lose you and your mother. I had to bring you back." He glanced at his wife. "She's forgiven me."

"I have forgiven him, honey, and you need to do the same." Her mother rose and knelt in front of where Claire sat still stunned in the chair. "This doesn't change how we feel about you, Claire. You're our daughter and no one else's. Someone else may have given birth to you, but no one loves you like we do."

Claire felt nothing as her mother's hands clung to her. Numbness encased her limbs. She couldn't think, couldn't get past the crushing news. She rose and brushed past her mother and went to gaze out the window onto the balcony. The sight of a few sailing ships, their white sails billowing in the wind, normally calmed her. But not today. Maybe nothing would calm her ever again. Her throat was too tight to force a syllable past it.

Stolen.

Harry Dellamare had stolen her from someone else as if he had the perfect right to claim anyone he wanted. As if his own wants superseded the grief he caused another family.

She whirled and faced him. "Where is my real family? I have to know."

He held out his palms in a gesture of entreaty. "I don't know, Claire. I just don't know. You'll always be our daughter. Please try to remember that. What happened doesn't change how much we love you."

Her eyes burned. She had to get out of here, away from his lying face. Running for the door, she ignored her mother-no, Lisa's cry. These weren't her parents. She had no idea who they were anymore.

Kate swiped angrily at her wet face as she pulled her Volkswagen behind her mother's car parked in front of her uncle's house. Stop being such a baby. What had she expected from her father and sister-open arms? And how stupid did they think she was? Only a blind person would swallow that story about Claire not being a Dellamare. She and Claire both had their father's blue eyes.

Maybe he'd confessed to her before Kate showed up, and they'd concocted that ridiculous story. When the car lurched to a stop, something pink rolled out from under the seat. Her old doll, Miss Edith. She'd evidently forgotten her the other day after cleaning her mom's closet. She picked up the doll, worn from so much love when she was little. For some reason, she tucked the doll under her arm for moral support.

Slamming the car door harder than necessary did little to relieve her agitation. Her legs were weak, and her head spun as she went up the steps to the house and banged open the door without knocking. She was going to need a transfusion soon. Her mother and uncle were right where she expected to find them-on the back deck drinking coffee.

Her uncle had constructed it last fall, and the cedar deck held everything important to a bachelor like him: huge grill, patio furniture, a pergola, a beer keg, and a mini fridge. The rosebushes used for landscaping had been Mom's idea, and their fragrance mingled with the scent of coffee wafting through the open kitchen window.

Her mother leaned back in a chaise with her feet up and her favorite red mug in her hand. Her hair was in its usual ponytail, and she wore white shorts and a pink tank top.

Her bare feet hit the floor as soon as she saw Kate. "What's wrong? Do you need to go to the doctor? You're very pale, and your color is off."

Kate dropped onto an upholstered chaise and laid the doll in her lap. "I'm pretty weak. I should probably go see the doctor tomorrow. But that's not the problem, Mom! You won't believe what my father is trying to pull now."

Frowning, Uncle Paul set his coffee mug on the side table. "Kate, you have got to stay away from him!" He must have just come back from lobstering because he still wore his floppy hat and his blue plaid long-sleeved fishing shirt.

She scowled at him. "Too late. I told him, his precious daughter, and his wife who I am. And you know what they said? They told me Claire isn't their daughter at all! They said a little girl's remains had been found and identified as Claire Dellamare. Do they think I'm stupid?"

All the color ran from her mother's face, and her mouth sagged. Her hand shook as she set her coffee down. "Kate, you didn't." She put her hand to her mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick." She leaped up and ran to the edge of the deck where she bent over.

Kate's legs barely held her as she went to her mother's side and touched her as she retched. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Wiping her mouth, her mother sat back on her haunches. "Could you get the water bottle from my purse?"

Kate went to her mother's purse beside the chaise and dug out the bottle and a package of tissues. After uncapping the bottle, she spilled some water on a tissue, then knelt beside her mother again and handed the water to her. "Here. Are you all right?" She dabbed her mother's face with the damp tissue.

Her mother's green eyes narrowed. "Oh, Kate, you have no idea what you've just done." She looked at her brother. "Paul, what are we going to do?"

"Shut up, Mary." He rose and paced the deck boards. "Let me think."

Too weak to stand any longer, Kate went back to her chaise and sank down. Spots danced in her vision, and she leaned forward to put her head between her legs. The roaring in her ears prevented her from hearing the conversation between her mother and uncle. She didn't understand why they were so upset. There was no way her father could take away the blueberry barren. He might be rich, but he couldn't buck the law.

The strength began to seep back into her limbs, and her head quit spinning. She sat up and settled back on the chaise. No sudden movements or she'd be flat on the floor. Only her mother remained on the deck with her. An engine revved, then the sound of tires on pavement drifted around the house.

"Where's Uncle Paul going?"

Her mother perched on the deck railing. "He's gone to take care of some business."

Her color had come back, but she seemed unwilling to look at Kate and seemed more interested in watching the hummingbird feeder a few feet away. She leaned over and plucked a rose from the bush, then began to shred it.

"Mom? Are you all right?"

She still didn't look at Kate, and her voice shook. "You don't have any idea of the damage you've done. Your selfishness could very well destroy this family. I'm finding it hard to even talk to you right now, so I'm going to go home. Lock up when you leave."

Her selfishness? It was her mother's selfishness that had gotten all of them in this predicament.

Without a glance at Kate, her mother slid off the railing, went down the steps to the yard, and continued around the side of the house. Moments later an engine started, and Kate saw her gun her car down the dirt road, a plume of dust spewing behind.

Her mother hadn't even stayed to make sure she got home safely. Kate wasn't sure she could drive home without pa.s.sing out. She was sure Dr. Bain would have no choice but to give her a blood transfusion. She picked up her cell phone, then called the doctor's office to let them know she was heading in. She stood and her vision began to blacken again. There was no way she could drive. She called Sh.e.l.ley and asked for help, then sat down to wait with the doll clutched to her chest.

Once she was stronger, she intended to get to the bottom of what had just happened.

THIRTY-ONE.

Birds chirped and splashed in the copper bath that led into the green, secluded garden, and Claire smelled the sweet aroma of blooming lilac bushes. She caught a glimpse of Luke sitting alone on a black iron bench and ran along the stone path toward him.

His eyes wide, he rose as she cried out his name. His arms opened, and she rushed into them. Her arms circled his waist and she buried her face in his shirt, smelling of fabric softener and laundry soap. His embrace was a haven she never wanted to leave. How did she deal with this? Where did she start looking for her family?

He kissed her head. "Your heart is fluttering like a bird. What's happened, honey?"

She forced herself to be still, to soak in his strength a moment, then raised her head. "My dad s-stole me, Luke. He found me in the woods and just . . . took me." She told him what her fa-no, Harry-had said. It was going to take awhile to get used to not thinking of them as her parents.

His dark eyes grew somber as he spoke. "The first thing we should do is check the records of any missing children from that time. It should be easy enough to find out who you are since you were kidnapped."

"You're right!" She slapped a hand to her forehead. "I was so upset that I didn't stop to think. Your friend Beau should be able to track down my family easily enough."

He nodded. "Here comes Priscilla. I'll make a call to Beau while you talk with her a minute. It may not really be necessary to question her now we know you were kidnapped."

She released her grip on his T-shirt and turned to wave at Priscilla Loughenberry. The food and beverage manager wore her turquoise uniform and a perky smile. A sparrow hopped closer, its bright eyes on a crumb by Claire's feet. She was just like that bird, hoping to scoop up some small bit of information.

As Priscilla drew nearer, Claire's smile faded. Wait a minute. Priscilla had told her she had found her in the hotel's garden. Yet Harry had told her he'd found her in the woods and had taken her home. And Priscilla had given her other kinds of details like her father crying. She'd never told him she'd spoken with Priscilla. Who was telling the truth? She'd been so upset by her father's admission that she hadn't compared the stories.

Claire motioned for Priscilla to have a seat beside her on the bench and struggled to maintain a friendly expression. "Thanks for agreeing to meet me again. I won't keep you long. I'm sure you're exhausted from working."

The wind tossed Priscilla's short salt-and-pepper hair, and she tucked it behind her ears. "It's no problem, Ms. Dellamare, though I don't know anything I can add to what I already told you."

"I apologize. I was upset when we spoke, so I'm a little murky on the details." She saw the other woman relax against the back of the bench. "I'd just like to go over it again. You said you were the one who found me in the garden, correct?"