Page 29 of Alaskan Blackout
The calico, who normally kept to herself around strangers, purred contentedly to have her face scratched.
“That’s right. When I was twelve, my mother died in a hunting accident.” McKenna had spent a long time trying to come to terms with her senseless death. “My father wasn’t around much for me, so to his credit, he quickly married a woman more capable of raising a child than he was.”
“I’m so sorry about your mom,” Quinton said quietly, setting down the cat as he reached McKenna’s side. “It’s a terrible thing to lose a parent so young.”
She glanced up at him while positioning the stems in a heavy stoneware vase, recalling that he understood all too well what it was like after the way his mother had died. “It was awful. Mom had gone out hunting with her brother and his gun went off accidentally.”
McKenna understood rationally that the incident hadn’t been intentional in any way, but she’d never been able to fully forgive her uncle for his carelessness either. To this day, she didn’t have anything to do with her mother’s family.
Not that they’d ever tried to reach out to her either. Her maternal grandparents had never liked McKenna’s father.
“That must have been terrible to go through.” Quinton’s hand palmed the middle of her back between her shoulder blades. A touch of compassion that really did comfort her. The urge to lean into him was so strong she had to turn away from him in order to fight the impulse.
She folded the kraft paper to fit it into a recycle bin under the sink.
“Yes, but the bright light to come out of a horrible year was Dena Reynolds.” McKenna smiled, remembering her stepmom’s relentless good humor. Her refusal to let life get her down no matter what was thrown her way. “She was one of the best people I’ve ever known. Even after she and my father split, she made sure I understood that I always had a home with her.”
That she was loved and wanted. In the end, that kind of selfless love had been a great gift. One that McKenna would pass on to her own child, no matter the circumstances of this baby’s birth.
It was the first thing she knew for certain about her pregnancy. Her child would always feel loved.
Her hand went involuntarily to her flat belly, as if her touch could convey that love already. She and Quinton had both maneuvered complicated blended-family dynamics growing up. Would they be able to navigate those waters effectively to help their child feel secure? McKenna blinked through a swell of raw emotion, hoping she could keep it together long enough to get through this date.
To share the news with Quinton in a way that would free him from any obligation toward her or this baby.
“Are you feeling all right?” Quinton asked a moment later, making her realize that she’d been lost in thought.
Her hand still on her abdomen.
She relaxed it now and pasted on a smile, determined to get through the evening. They had a lot to discuss even before she got to revealing her secret.
“I feel fine.” Physically, at least. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
Quinton escorted McKenna down the Dutch Harbor pier twenty minutes later, enjoying her reaction to his surprise choice for a dining experience.
They strolled together on the opposite end of the harbor from where she moored theUn-Reel. They’d bypassed the commercial fishing boats to access the larger pier used for cruise vessels. One of which was docked overnight during an extended itinerary that included stops in Australia and Asia. Facts he knew after thoroughly researching options for their date night.
The ship in question loomed large in front of them now, a 550-foot craft with a hull painted navy blue, sleek and imposing. There were no passengers milling about the boat at the moment, since it had docked earlier that day, but a side entrance was still staffed by two employees to monitor anyone who came aboard. The pair sat on high stools beneath a small canopy that protected them from the misty rain in the air.
“Um, should I be worried that we’re boarding a cruise ship?” McKenna asked, hugging her black windproof jacket more tightly around her as a damp squall blew around them.
She looked stunning tonight in her simple black dress that showed off a bombshell figure normally hidden under layers of clothes. And she’d left her long copper hair to hang in waves that hugged her shoulders. The auburn mass was tucked under a wide hood now because of the weather, but he looked forward to seeing it again once they were seated inside.
“No need to worry.” He greeted the ship’s representative who walked down the temporary gangplank to meet them. Handing over the paperwork he’d prepared in advance, Quinton turned back to McKenna while the crew member reviewed it. “We’re only here for a meal and we’ll be back home long before the ship departs.”
Long enough for him to tell her what he’d learned about her cyber harasser and to let her know he was leaving Dutch Harbor for good. He looked forward to the former and dreaded the latter. Probably because he couldn’t imagine never being with her again. Yet he wanted to give her one night that wasn’t tainted with stress about the blackout. One night to remind her that she didn’t need to hide out in Alaska just because of one jerkoff in her past. She was a good woman who deserved to be treated well.
Now, the liveried cruise ambassador passed the paperwork back to Quinton and held out an arm to usher them inside the open doors to the interior of the ship. “Very good, sir. The restaurant is on the fifth deck if you take the elevators straight ahead.”
“Thanks very much.” Quinton tucked the papers into the breast pocket of his jacket before settling his hand on the small of McKenna’s back to guide her inside ahead of him.
“We can dine on board a cruise ship even though we’re not passengers?” She looked back at him suspiciously, her blue eyes narrowed.
Even though the question was light and playful, Quinton suspected that there was a small amount of worry and distrust beneath it. He had the sense that she wasn’t a woman who would ever give her trust again to anyone who hadn’t worked damned hard to earn it. A reminder that Quinton could never be a good choice for her considering the scars his upbringing had left.
“I’m friends with the chef,” he told her simply, steering her into the first empty elevator cabin and pressing the button to take them to the fifth deck. It hadn’t been easy to arrange, but it helped that his company had done some time-sensitive IT work for the cruise line. “And they like to call this an expedition ship, by the way. Less emphasis on cruising and more on the on-shore adventures.”
“I see,” she mused, swiping off her hood now that they were indoors. “I can hardly begrudge tourists access to the Aleutians since I earn half my living from guiding groups myself. But selfishly, I hope this part of the world never becomes overrun with visitors.”