by Lyn Gardner
“Glad you like it.”
“Speaking of like, I like Judy. She seems really nice.”
“She is.”
Declan settled into the corner of the sofa and crossed one long leg over the other. “Can I be honest?”
“Always.”
“I had my doubts about you moving up here.”
“But you said you thought it was a good idea.”
“What the hell did you expect me to say, Robbie? You were always so happy-go-lucky, and then Pam came along and managed to suck every ounce of happiness and confidence out of you like a fucking vampire. And even after you broke it off, and even after she was arrested, you were still so mired down in her muck, I just knew if you didn’t get away, you’d always be looking over your shoulder, waiting for her to show her ugly head again...and I’d never get my Robbie back.”
“And you think she’s back now?”
“Are you kidding me?” Declan said as his mouth curled into a smile that reached his ears. “Abso-fucking-lutely! The minute I saw you running up that hallway, screaming like a banshee, I knew you were back. Hell, you’re not just back, you’re better than ever.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, let’s just put it this way. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were pregnant.”
Robin’s eyes bulged. “What!”
“Kiddo, you’re positively glowing, and you’ve been doing it all night.”
“Did you ever think it’s just because I’m happy to see you.”
“Nice try,” Declan said, eyeballing the woman. “And I would buy that if we hadn’t seen each other in years, but it’s only been six weeks, Robin, so stop trying to stroke my ego and tell me the truth.”
“There’s no other truth to tell, Declan. I’m writing again. I’m running again, and I’m just...I’m just happy.”
Declan lifted his chin and looked down his nose at Robin. “I know you way better than that.”
Robin silently damned the friendship she held dear as she took a long, slow breath. Unable to look Declan in the eye, she whispered, “She’s the teacher.”
Declan shook his head. “Who’s the teacher?”
“Judy.”
“How can she be a teacher and still manage to help you run this place?”
“No, I didn’t say she’s a teacher,” Robin said quietly as she raised her eyes. “I said she’s the teacher.”
Declan’s eyebrows drew together, Robin’s words replaying in his mind while he reached for his drink, but just before he was about to pick up the snifter, he whipped around to face Robin. “Holy fucking Mother of God!” he shouted, bringing his hands together in a clap that echoed off the walls. “Are you shitting me? Judy is the one you’ve been crushing on for all these years?”
Robin sighed. “The one and only.”
“Well, I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch. Talk about a small world.”
“Tell me about it.”
“And does she know?”
“What? That I had a crush on her? No, and don’t you dare tell her.”
“You know me better than that, and you’re using the wrong tense.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said you had a crush on her. You and I both know you still have it.”
“Oh,” Robin said, lowering her eyes.
“And that leads me to the next question.” Declan stopped to pick up his cognac and take a sip, and when he turned around, Robin was looking back at him.
“Which is?”
“How in the hell are you going to work with her every day? I mean, Jesus, Robin, you’ve been infatuated with that woman since high school.”
“It’s been working so far.”
“Yeah?”
“All right, so the first few weeks were a little awkward, but I got over it.”
“And did she?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she was your teacher, and I think that could be a little weird for her, too.”
“I guess it could have been if she had remembered me.”
“Ouuuuch.”
Robin snorted. “Yeah, that kind of stung, but she was only my homeroom teacher. There’s no reason why she’d remember a girl she spent just a few minutes with every morning.”
“You remembered her.”
“How could I not?”
Declan couldn’t argue the point. Judy was an attractive woman, and knowing that twenty-five years had passed since Robin had last set eyes on her high school crush, he could only imagine what Judy had looked like a quarter century before. Yet, it wasn’t just her appearance that made her pleasing to his eye. It was her persona.
For some, when skin begins to sag and wrinkles start to form, the weight of those changes affects not only appearances but attitudes as well. Shoulders slump, their droop caused by reflections no longer showing youth. Humor fades as aches and pains take precedence, and the new music of the day is merely noise, for the old holds in their melodies fond memories of a time long since gone. Others, however, embrace their age. Grateful for the experience gathered over the years, they stride through their lives with their heads held high and their shoulders square. Wrinkles define rather than disturb, and the twinges and pangs that come with age, like retirement, are simply rites of passage.
Declan was well aware of this type of person because he was raised by two of them. Even though his parents were on the cusp of turning seventy, they still went on a four-mile walk down the beaches of St. Pete every morning before spending their afternoons volunteering at their church. They had yet to slow down, and Declan doubted they ever would, and he also had a sneaking suspicion, Judy wouldn’t either.
“Declan!”
The volume of Robin’s voice caused Declan to jump, and he jerked back his head. “Why in the hell are you screaming?”
“I was trying to get your attention. Where were you just now?”
“What?”
“You looked a million miles away.”
“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about my folks.”
“Are they okay?” Robin said quickly. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, they’re fine. Judy just reminds me of them. That’s all.”
Robin narrowed her eyes. “She is not that old.”
“I wasn’t talking about her damn age.”
“No?”
“No,” Declan growled. “And if you stop acting all huffy, I’ll explain.”
“Fine,” Robin said, crossing her arms. “I’m waiting.”
“Jesus Christ,” Declan mumbled under his breath as he scrubbed his hand over his face. “Kiddo, before I walked into this house tonight, the only thing I knew about Judy was that she lived on Mackinac, and she was older than you. Can we agree on that?”
“Yes.”
“Hallelujah!” Declan said, waving his hands above his head. “So, I didn’t know what to expect. Okay? But before dinner, when you guys gave me a tour of the place, the woman bounded up the steps like a kid, and I’m not talking one flight. I’m talking two! Then, she prattled on about all the stuff you two are going to be doing to this place, and all I kept thinking was where in the hell does she get all her energy, and that’s why she reminds me of my parents.”
“Are you saying I’m lazy?”
Declan sighed. “If I dig this hole any deeper, I’m going to hit China.”
“Then bring me back some Peking Duck,” Robin said, and jumping up, she stormed out of the room.
“Christ, I love women,” Declan said, chuckling to himself as he got to his feet. Heading into the kitchen, he found Robin standing near the sink.
“What the hell is wrong with you,” he said, taking Robin by the arm. “I like the woman, Robbie. She’s nice. She’s smart. She’s funny, and she’s not bad on the eyes. Not that that matters, of course, because she’s only your business partner. Right? I mean, you’re not expecting anything else. Are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Are yo
u sure?” Declan said, placing his hands on Robin’s shoulders. “Because if you’re doing all of this in hopes that...that something else is going to happen—”
“I’m not.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” Robin said, looking Declan in the eye. “I’m not saying it doesn’t help that Judy’s here, but I made the decision to stay before I knew that. And I’m not stupid, Declan. She thinks of me as a friend and only a friend, and that’s okay.”
“Is it?”
“It’s better than nothing,” Robin said, shrugging. “And honestly, it’s enough. I didn’t come up here looking for love. I came up here to regroup and to write and to just be happy again, and I am.” Robin was surprised when Declan didn’t respond. She knew he always enjoyed their little debates, and she couldn’t remember the last time he’d given up so easily. Noticing the puzzled look on his face, Robin cocked her head to the side. “What’s wrong? Can’t accept defeat?”
“No, that’s not it,” Declan said as he glanced around the room. “Did you leave a window open because I swear to God, it just got cold in here?”
Robin moved out of Declan’s hold and wrapped her arms around her middle to preserve what body heat she had against the chill in the air. “She’s here.”
“What? Judy came back?” Declan said, looking toward the hall leading to the front of the house.
“No. Isobel.”
“Who the hell is Isobel?”
“Oops.”
***
Robin tossed her cell phone on the sofa, and marching into the kitchen, she went to pour herself a cup of coffee. Seeing the pot she had just brewed nearly empty, she set her jaw. “Great. Just fucking great!”
For the next few minutes, Robin made enough noise to wake the neighbors. Opening and slamming cabinets to get coffee beans, a filter, and the electric grinder, once she was done, she put everything back and slammed the doors shut again.
“What the hell is all that noise?”
Robin’s eyebrows drew together. She had yet to see Declan that morning, but he had somehow managed to drink all her coffee, and now he was shouting from somewhere else in the house. “Where the hell are you?”
“I’m in here.”
After topping off her mug with some freshly-brewed coffee, Robin went into the spare bedroom and found Declan sitting on the spiral stairs halfway up, holding her biggest travel mug in his hand. “You could have left some for me.”
“Sorry,” he said while he continued to stare at the walls. “It was the first cup I found.”
“No, it was the largest cup you found.”
Declan’s pearly whites were almost blinding. “Some things never change.”
“I know,” Robin said before taking a sip of her coffee. “What are you doing in here?”
“I’m spellbound by all of this. It’s amazing.”
Robin glanced at the sketches surrounding her. “Yeah, I know.”
“There have to be over a thousand drawings in here.”
“Probably.”
“You know,” Declan said, focusing on Robin. “This would make a great book.”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
Declan’s guffaw echoed off the walls. “I guess you already thought of that.”
“It’s crossed my mind, but I have a couple of others I need to finish first.”
“Yes, you do.”
For a few minutes, they remained silent, both entranced by the drawings on the plaster until Declan said, “Have you noticed that most of the women drawn here look the same?”
“Yeah. I think they’re self-portraits.”
“And she’s really into eyes, isn’t she?”
Robin gazed at the dozens of pairs of eyes drawn all over the walls. “Well, they say they’re the windows to the soul, and if you look at them, you can see it in how she drew them.” Robin began to point as she spoke. “Like this pair looks happy. See the lines at the corners as if the person is smiling, but the shading on this set makes them look sad, almost teary-eyed. And I don’t know who this pair belonged to, but look at the darkness, the intensity...pure anger. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Declan said as he moved to within a few inches of the wall to study the sketch. “But what gets me are all the details. You can practically see every strand of hair on the mane of the horses pulling this wagon, every leaf on the tree in that forest scene over there, the clapboards on the buildings...every flipping detail. If it wasn’t for the fact that most of these were drawn in pencil, they almost look like photographs.”
“I know. I come in here sometimes at night to wind down before I go to bed, and I always walk away finding something else I didn’t notice before.”
Declan paused long enough to gulp down more coffee before he tapped on the wall. “So, who you do think this portly fellow with the clerical noose and the muttonchops is? I can see six or seven sketches of him without even getting up. Maybe her husband?”
Robin shook her head. “I’m thinking her father.”
“Why?”
“Isobel died the day before her wedding.”
“Wow, that sucks.”
“Yep.”
“And you got that little tidbit from the records you found?”
Robin nodded. “From what I can tell, Adele reached out to the Church of Latter-day Saints, the local churches, and newspaper archives, trying to find everything she could about the house and about Isobel. There were copies of microfilm records, census data, death and burial indexes, and even a copy of Isobel’s death certificate.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Her name was Isobel Vallencourt. She was twenty-six when she died. They labeled it an accidental drowning, but it wasn’t.”
Declan’s eyebrows drew together. “What makes you say that?”
“Who goes swimming in the middle of the night wearing their wedding dress, the second week of December in Michigan?”
“No one, unless you have a death wish.”
“Which is why Adele thought it was suicide, and honestly, so do I. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“I’d have to agree with you.” Taking a deep breath, Declan drained what was left in his cup in one swallow and stood up. “Well, I think it’s time for me to go grab a shower before Judy gets here.”
“Take your time. She’s not coming over.”
“What?”
“She called a couple of minutes ago and said she was going to take the weekend to catch up on her own stuff.”
“But I thought you two were going to give me a quick tour of the island before I have to catch the ferry.”
“So did I,” Robin said, flicking an invisible piece of lint off her pajama bottoms.
“What’s with the attitude?”
“I don’t have an attitude.”
“The hell you don’t. You’re sitting there like a child who’s just been told they can’t play with their favorite toy.”
“Judy’s not a toy.”
“That’s right. She’s not,” Declan said, scowling at the woman sitting two steps below him. “And I hate to break it to you, but she’s not your indentured servant either.”
“I never said she was.”
“Then wipe that pout off your face, Robbie. I get that you really like this woman, but don’t like her so much that you forget she has the right to have her own life, too. This isn’t all about you. You know?”
Robin’s shoulders sagged and letting out a sigh, she shook her head. “God, I hate when you’re right.”
“When am I not?” he said, and as Robin stood up to let him pass, he hooked his arm through hers. “Now, get your ass in gear and show me around this rock you’re living on.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Robin smiled when Judy came into the kitchen. “You’re late.”
“I didn’t know I had a schedule,” Judy said, schlepping over to snag a coffee cup off the counter. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Whoa,”
Robin said, flinching back her head. “Is it me, or did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
“At least I woke up,” Judy said pouring herself some coffee. “That’s always a plus at my age.”
Other than the phone call on Saturday morning, Robin hadn’t seen or heard from Judy all weekend. It was odd not to have Judy around, but after taking Declan’s reprimand to heart, Robin refused to allow her childish behavior to rise again. Instead, she enjoyed what little time she had with Declan before he climbed aboard the last ferry leaving the island that day.
Robin walked back to her house, her eyes misty with tears after seeing Declan off, but the memories Declan had given her were priceless. Having not ridden a bike since he was in his teens, she tittered as he wobbled and weaved up the road on a neon pink bike with plastic carnations woven into the baskets. She cringed when he came close to running into an unsuspecting bystander. She laughed so hard she almost fell off her bike when he rode directly through a pile of horse manure, and when they finally made it back to the house, Robin spent the rest of the afternoon hanging on every word he said. They spoke about writing, and they talked about ghosts, but there was one subject Robin knew Declan was avoiding, and she had avoided it, too. Unfortunately, Robin couldn’t avoid the topic when the topic was currently standing in Robin’s kitchen looking pissed off at the world. Robin frowned. “Okay. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Where’s Declan?” Judy said, putting down the coffee pot. “Sleeping in?”
“No, he left Saturday. Remember, he had to catch that flight to L.A.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Judy said, and turning around, she leaned against the counter and stared at the floor. “I forgot.”
“You also forgot we were supposed to give him a tour of the island together.”
“Well, I’m sure you managed just fine without me,” Judy mumbled as she brought the cup to her lips.
Robin eyed the woman who had yet to look in her direction. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing is going on with me, Robin. Nothing at all.”
“Yeah, well I don’t believe that,” Robin said, placing her mug on the counter. “But it’s time for me to go upstairs and get to work. See you later.”