Ellie had cackled when she heard about their not-quite-kiss, but that had obviously been an act of sheer sisterhood and solidarity. Plus, Julie was married, if in name only. Still grieving the loss of her daughter, and if she didn’t quite dare call herself in recovery, at least testing its waters. Adding anything on top of that would be absurd. Julie had enough to do here on Mercy in terms of the children. Plenty of challenge for the duration. A new relationship need not apply.
Julie gave Callum the sort of smile someone might deliver upon brief acquaintance. Ignoring the shine of his eyes in the deepening dusk, she clapped her hands together briskly. “Getting chilly out here.” The weather. What better topic to lead with when you were emphasizing the platonic nature of your intent?
“Julie has questions,” Ellie announced. “About…about…” She broke off, turning around in a circle as if she’d lost sight of where everybody had gone. “What did you have questions about again, Julie?”
Julie forced a smile. “I wanted to learn a little about the kids before school starts.”
“Oh right!” Ellie thrust her hand in the air triumphantly. It was the one holding the stein and a splash of red leapt out, sliding down the side of the glass. Ellie bent her head to lick up the drops. “Highliners. Julie wants to know why Peter Hempstead is all set to be a highliner, and wormy Eddie Cowry will never be one.”
Julie cringed. If Ellie, who had nothing to do with the boy, so despised him, then Eddie really didn’t stand a chance.
Callum regarded them both. “Why?”
Julie hesitated. “I guess I just thought some background would help me—”
“No,” Callum interrupted. “I meant, what do you mean by why?”
Julie frowned. “Well, neither boy fishes now obviously. Or catches lobsters, if that’s how you refer to it. So how do we already know how good they’ll be at it? And that’s assuming they even choose to do the same thing as their fathers.”
A brief smile lit Callum’s eyes. “Choose.”
“Okay, so maybe it’s not really a choice, I get that, believe me. But you still didn’t answer the part about their entire worth in the business being predetermined.”
Callum’s features worked with frustration, the expression of someone charged with explaining a given, the facts of his life. Julie might as well have been asking him to explain why the lungs absorbed oxygen.
From behind came a shriek of glass, and they both turned.
Ellie knelt beside one of the boulders. “Oops,” she said, getting to her feet. Wine tinged the patch of sea bloodred before a wave rolled in and dispersed it. “Guess Roy was right about not giving me one to take outside.” Another incoming wave tripped her, and Ellie went down in the surf, water fizzing around her hands and knees. She began patting the sandy surface for pieces of the broken stein.
Callum went and pulled Ellie to her feet. “Let the sea take it.”
Ellie’s shirt had gone see-through, and her shorts were dripping. “Such a gentleman,” she said, leaning against Callum so that the wet fabric of her clothes stuck to his. She laughed and sniffled at the same time, resulting in an ungainly snort.
“Let’s get you home to dry off and dry out,” Callum said.
He raised an eyebrow in Julie’s direction, and she nodded, following him onto the road that led through town toward the foursquare of cottages.
“Seems like you’ve done that before,” Julie remarked after they dropped Ellie off, Callum draping a blanket over her as she collapsed on the couch.
He offered a brief shrug. “People on islands tend to be soaked with more than the sea.”
“People everywhere,” Julie responded, and he gave her another of his sharp looks.
Callum insisted on accompanying her on the last leg of the walk. An ivory horn of moon cleaved the sky as they hurried through the woods, Julie explaining that her dog would be in need of some dinner and exercise.
But when they arrived, Depot wasn’t inside.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Julie’s heart clutched as she walked through the house, checking every corner. She left the storage bedroom, with the crib and assorted other detritus of Peter’s early childhood, for last. Viewing this room with a guest in the house made her feel vulnerable, exposed. She knew Depot wouldn’t be in there anyway; he wasn’t a dog who made his presence unknown, and there’d been no bark of reunion when Julie got home.
She pinched her brow, forehead sore with worry. She had been scrupulous about locking the front door. Of course, she now knew that the prior residents had keys.
Callum was in the process of making a loop around the outside of the house; she glimpsed him through a window.
“Does your dog go out on his own?” he asked when Julie arrived at his side.
“Only if I’m home to let him out,” she replied. “And he was definitely inside when I left around lunchtime.”
She glanced up at the sky—full dark now, moonlight and a splatter of stars—then looked toward the rear of the house, dread building inside her. If Depot had gotten out, if the Captain had come by, say, or Peter—
She started to run for the cliff, but the skid of cleared earth she’d been picturing, proof of a dog’s slide over the edge, wasn’t there. Julie leaned down, bracing her arms on her thighs, heart pattering as she scoured the base for hints of motion.
Callum grabbed her, holding her back. “Look over there.”
Julie had taken off so fast, she hadn’t even been sure he’d stuck around. But now Callum pointed at the land that ran parallel to where they were standing, the lane between both Hempstead houses. The scrub and grass lay flat, and when Julie walked closer, she saw the imprint of four very large paws in the earth. She started to follow them.
Callum stayed to her right, helping spot prints and patches of trampled grass.
The old manse loomed up out of the night, its peaks and tower limned with black against the sky, only a single light on in the foyer when Julie climbed the front steps. She hadn’t gone inside at the party last night, and up close it was clear that while the house was indeed grand, it had also seen better days. The clapboard was in need of paint—a condition that was probably chronic, given its proximity to the sea—and one of the porch pillars leaned slightly.
Callum came up beside her. He used a knocker, green with patina, to rap on the set of carved front doors, but nobody appeared to be home. Julie ran down the porch steps to the last paw print they’d found, a little ways before the cliff trail began.
She tracked the rest to their terminus, and then she saw Depot.
* * *
Someone had either led the dog to the beach at the bottom, or else Depot had scrambled down the path himself. It didn’t matter, because he was alone now, and couldn’t get back up. When he saw Julie, he let out the bark he reserved just for her, and attempted to come join her at the top. But sand slid out beneath his paws, sending the dog flailing backward. He landed in a splashy pool, whining and yelping as he tried to bound out.
It had been getting on high tide when Julie and Ellie and Callum were together. Depot bunched his paws, front and back, standing on a rapidly shrinking slice of sand.
Callum appeared beside her. “We’ll have to lead him up.”
“I don’t think we can,” Julie said, her teeth chattering so hard with cold and fright that she wasn’t sure whether Callum would understand what she’d said.
But he’d figured it out. “He’s a big ’un,” he acknowledged grimly.
Depot’s size made many things harder—the cost of feeding, how much time had to be devoted to walks, all the places that tolerated small pets but were biased against large—but at this moment it posed out-and-out danger. Depot’s weight would be enough to crumble the already eroded trail, which had seen further damage from the trampling it’d received the night of the party. If Julie tried to help, tugging
her dog upward, or pushing him from behind, their combined mass would only destroy their means of egress faster.
And it was the only way out. The dissolving path wound between walls of sheer rock face looming up from the sea. Scaling either side would require either a skilled free climb, or ropes and who knew what, a sling or basket for a dog.
An incoming wave hit Depot, threatening to sweep his legs out from under him, and the dog took a terrified leap onto the trail, which sank instantly, becoming one with the sea. Depot shrank away from the water, barking and snapping at it as if it were a rival dog. Then the tide swept outward, and for the moment Depot was dry.
Julie bit her lip so hard it bled. If she climbed down, she would further erode the sand, but at least she could offer comfort to her dog. But how would they get back up? She looked around for an answer. Callum had vanished, but she couldn’t wait for him. A wave crashed onto shore, making Depot stagger, and sheer instinct drove Julie onto the path. She tried to run fleetly, keep the sand underfoot where they needed it, but particles flew up nonetheless, stinging her legs. At the bottom, she hurled herself against Depot.
“It’s okay, Deep, I’m here,” she said into his floppy, velvet ear. The dog’s quaking body began to calm in her arms. “I’ll get you back up. I will.”
She was sure he could smell the doubt emanating from her, but he leaned his tired form against hers, causing Julie to sit down on her rear, seawater waist-high around her. Cold seeped into her clothes, then her skin, then deeper yet. Julie was used to swimming in icy waters, but the temperature of the sea rendered a mountain stream Jacuzzi-warm.
A wave surged onto shore, and she and Depot were momentarily afloat before the beach returned beneath them. Julie got to her feet and pulled her dog forward, but ascending the trail by even a few feet had become impossible. The sand collapsed, and they both went sliding back toward the ocean.
Depot’s snout quivered with fear. Young Eddie Cowry on that rock last night. So many helpless creatures, and so little Julie could do to help them.
“We’ll find some other way,” Julie told her dog, putting every ounce of the certainty she lacked into her pledge. Then she looked out to sea, judging the distance of the next wave. Close now. Seconds away. “After this wave. It’s going to be a big one, Deep.”
Cold hit her as if she’d collided with the wall of a deep freeze. Julie held her breath, clutching her dog’s collar with two hands, and they both went under. The sea threatened to pull them apart, but Julie dug her fingers into Depot’s fur, slippery fistfuls that nearly escaped her grasp. The wave receded, and Julie surfaced, gasping for air.
She was shivering so hard that she had trouble holding on to Depot. Julie could stand now, the water up to her chest, but Depot no longer could. He stayed by her side, paws furiously churning the water.
“Settle your dog!”
Disoriented by the blackness of the water and the night, Julie tried to find the source of the shout. Callum was sliding down what remained of the trail, sledding without a toboggan, a coil of rope mounded in his lap. The last of the sand hourglassed away in a trickle, depositing Callum in the sea.
“We’ll have to swim!” he yelled. “The Hempsteads have a dock!”
A wave came in, and Callum ducked effortlessly beneath it, grasping Julie by the shoulder to hold her in place. “Quiet your dog,” he told her once the water had retreated and he and Julie could both stand. “He’s exhausting himself.”
Julie bent and slid her arms underneath Depot’s belly, the buoyancy of the water allowing her to hold him. Once her own ability to remain on foot was stolen by the tide, she would no longer be able to support his weight.
Callum’s hands worked beneath the surface of the water, affixing the rope to Depot’s collar. He gave Julie an appraising look. “Swimming will warm you,” he said, testing his knot with a stout tug. “It’s about a quarter mile. Think you can do it?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
A wave came in and Julie dipped under as she’d seen Callum do. His motions were expert in the water, and he seemed immune to the cold. When the wave pulled back, Callum could still stand, the water chin-high on him, but Julie was reduced to treading water. Callum cradled Depot in his arms so the dog could rest.
“Where do we—h-h-have to go?” Julie asked, her teeth clacking together. Her voice shook with both apprehension and chill, and she could see Depot react, thrashing with his own display of frenzy when the next wave hit them.
Depot returned to the surface, but Julie had gotten rotated. She turned in the direction she had seen Depot bob up, ducking as another wave crested before spotting Callum, swimming confidently and capably with the rope clenched in his fist.
He stuck his free hand out of the water. “Around that point!” He gestured, though the indication meant little in this featureless seascape.
Julie spit out water, salt toxic on her tongue. At home she’d always been a good swimmer, although the difference between lakes or creeks versus the open ocean was becoming clear with this feat.
“We have to get out beyond those rocks!” Callum said, pointing again and raising his voice to be heard. “Otherwise we’ll get banged up pretty good!”
Julie looked in the direction he was indicating, but could see only the vaguest outline, and even that appeared more illusion than physical shape. Callum read the sea as she did the woods, alert to its weapons and traps. While to Julie the entire ocean felt murky and indistinct, not just unknown but unknowable.
They struck out through the lashing waters, Julie trying to mimic Callum’s sure crawl, the way he slid smoothly under whenever a wave approached. Depot’s paddling looked strong, although Julie kept losing track of him between the hills and bowls of water. If Callum hadn’t been holding onto the rope, she didn’t know if she would have had the strength to tow Depot. It was hard enough to keep moving forward herself.
The amount of land the Hempsteads must own was staggering; this much ocean frontage indicated a fortune. Julie wished the family could’ve been a little less wealthy. Her arms were beginning to tire.
Shivering further depleted her strength, and her strokes grew choppy and uneven. Julie fought to make progress in the right direction. At least, she thought it was the right direction—how did you tell which way you were swimming? Everything around her was black, without any landmarks or distinctions. The seawater felt thick and viscous, squirming with life. Julie kicked out, alarmed when something slick knocked against her, and her leg muscles trembled with fear and fatigue.
Callum had gotten some distance ahead. She could no longer see him, or her dog. Julie slowed, treading water while she tried to get her bearings.
A shout came from somewhere in the invisible distance. “There it is!”
Water distorted the way sound traveled; Julie might’ve been moving toward or away from their destination as she struck out again. “I don’t see it!” she yelled. “I don’t know where you are!” She was disoriented, bobbing between the twin darknesses of water and sky. “Call out again!” she screamed, on the verge of panic.
A wave got her and Julie fought it, her body tumbling around like a load of laundry. Water entered her nose, a stinging swarm of wasps. She felt the paralyzing vise of the sea. For a second she couldn’t tell up from down, and she took in an enormous mouthful of water. Spitting frantically, she began to beat her legs and arms, fighting to follow a stream of bubbles from her mouth. The ocean fought back, pressing on her like a weight, trying to keep her from leaving. She surfaced like a cork popping out. Gasping and coughing, she heard a single clear bark, and hurtled herself in its direction.
Callum appeared in a trough of water, Depot beside him.
“You okay?” Callum asked.
He wasn’t even out of breath.
The force of the water prevented Julie from staying in one place. She was swept around as if on a carnival ride, trying t
o get a good look at Depot. The dog appeared to be paddling gamely, but Julie detected signs of exhaustion in his eyes.
“How much farther?” she gasped.
Callum gestured with one hand, the other clenched around the rope.
Hair had plastered itself over her eyes. Julie shoved back a clump of strands, trying to see whatever he’d pointed to. Wooden poles rising out of the sea. Perhaps they held up a dock. There could’ve been a boathouse too; Julie thought she caught a glimpse of angular roof. Fifty yards away? More? The water seemed intent on deception, making distance impossible to judge.
They set out again, Julie keeping Callum and Depot in sight. She settled into an easier breaststroke, her forward movement steady. Depot was having a hard time, though. His body lay low in the water, hind and forepaws slowed from their earlier pace. His snout went under, and he had to struggle back to the surface.
How many times had Depot tried and failed to get up that hill before Julie arrived, tiring himself before he even started swimming?
Using the final reserves of her own energy, Julie sped up until she and her dog were apace. “Come on, Depot. You can do it, Deep!”
Callum continued to swim with sharp, clean strokes, the rope taut between him and the dog. Depot didn’t turn to look at Julie. He couldn’t. His rear half began sinking, hind quarters no longer moving at all. A wave came, and Depot’s body rose and fell.
“Depot!” Julie cried. She reached out to grab a section of rope, although holding on to it would do nothing if Depot couldn’t stay above the surface. “We’re almost there!”
The long line of the dock appeared in a wavery haze, its front portion bowed toward the sea. Maybe a dozen yards in front of them, not much more than that, but it was going to be too far. Depot’s front legs had stilled. He was floating, scarcely paddling at all. His gaze met Julie’s without a hint of blame or regret, only love.
Then he sank.
Julie didn’t see the moment when her dog’s body went below; she was staring at the seamless juncture between sea and sky.
The Second Mother Page 16