Sutherland’s Pride by Kathryn Brocato Page B

nearby dock.
    Pride forgot everything, including the frightened tears that rolled down her cheeks, as she raced across the deck to the boarding ladder. Seconds later, she stood on the dock to receive Johnny when Flynn held him up to her. She collapsed onto the wooden walkway and hauled Johnny, dripping and coughing, into her lap, almost crushing the child in her arms.
    Flynn pulled himself onto the dock and knelt beside her while she held Johnny and alternately scolded and hugged the little boy while she cried.
    “Take it easy, Pride,” Flynn said. “He just thought he’d see how close he was to the water.”
    Pride looked at him through tear-filled eyes and laughed. “He has to learn everything the hard way. You see?” she asked the little boy. “Now you’re all wet, so we’re going to have to go home instead of go sailing.”
    Johnny, safe and brave, set up an incoherent protest.
    “Don’t be silly,” Flynn said. “It’s a warm day. He’ll be dry in no time. We can take off his clothes and let him run around the boat naked until they dry.”
    Pride focused on Flynn. His shirt and trousers clung to him, and water dripped from his heavy, sun-bleached hair. He looked wonderful to Pride, especially after saving her son, so she covered her emotion by joking.
    “Is that what you’re going to do?” She tilted her head up to find her cousin. “Get ready for a thrill, Gloria.”
    “I’m used to being wet when I sail.” Flynn laughed and looked up at the boat rail, where Gloria and the three dark-headed children had gathered. “Johnny’s fine. Just a little wet. Come on, Johnny. Let me carry you for a little while, okay?”
    Johnny regarded Flynn with a serious demeanor but raised no objection to riding in Flynn’s arms. Flynn reached down a hand to help Pride to her feet.
    “You’re almost as wet as Johnny,” he observed. “Would you like to take off your clothes and — ”
    “Shut up, Flynn Sutherland,” Pride interrupted. “If you hadn’t been so heroic just now, I’d kick your kneecap.”
    “Heroic?” Flynn repeated, and laughed. “Oh, Lord. If the others behave like Johnny, I ought to get plenty of opportunities today to show off my gallantry. I’d better change.”
    “Do that,” Pride said. “We can hang your clothes off the halyards to dry.”
    Gloria, herding the other three children, met them on the dock beside the boat.
    “Here’s your errant son,” Flynn said, placing the puzzled Johnny into Gloria’s arms. “He’s wet but wiser, we hope.”
    If Flynn had been given to analysis, Pride thought, he might have wondered at the incredulous glance Gloria gave him. Knowing Flynn, he probably interpreted the stare as thankfulness that Johnny was all right.
    She shot a grin at Gloria, and Gloria shook her head and rolled her eyes.
    Johnny reached for Pride, and Pride thankfully clasped his small, beloved body to her breast.
    She pinched his cheek and hissed, “Don’t you ever get near that water again.”
    Flynn spoke to a dock official, who regarded Flynn’s waterlogged state with interest.
    “Our boat is ready,” Flynn said. “Let’s stop by the car and get our lunch sacks.”
    “Don’t tell me you packed a picnic lunch,” Pride said. “I thought I was going to have to cook.”
    “Wait till you see what I have in the sacks,” Flynn said mysteriously. “We’ll have a late lunch, once we get out into the Gulf.”
    “Is this where I get to see Pride in that cute little harness she described to me?” Gloria asked.
    “We’ll see,” Flynn said, grinning. “Come on, Johnny. You’re getting Aunt Pride wetter than she already is.”
    Gloria grimaced, but Flynn didn’t notice. He took Johnny from Pride’s arms and Sylvia from Gloria’s and led the way to his Bronco, where two paper sacks sat in the rear. Pride and Gloria each took a sack and followed Flynn to a slip where a fairly large, single-masted sailboat was tied to the dock.
    “All ashore who are going