by Sonya Blake
Chapter Fifty-Two
Violet stood in the cupola, scanning the harbor. Kaia Foley was back, it seemed. She’d seen Sam’s boat at the point for a short time. It had been moored there no more than an hour or two before returning to Thursday Island. The lights were still on in the house on Foley’s Point, so Violet had to assume that Kaia had remained there, alone. Still, she was unsettled to think that Kaia had returned to Maine.
Violet had hoped her problem was solved, that Sam was hers and hers alone again. Of course, it could be someone else staying at the house on Foley’s Point. There were renters during summers, she knew that. And Sam supervised the rentals for the Foley family, so it was possible he had been there helping them with something. Possible, but doubtful. It was the dead of winter, after all.
“Let’s summon him.” Emory appeared at Violet’s side, wrapped in a long cashmere caftan. “I want him tonight,” she said in a wheedling tone.
Violet scoffed. Nothing Emory said ever surprised her. She knew what she would say before Emory even knew she wanted to say it. If nothing else, this little experience with sharing Sam Lowell had revealed to Violet just how the connection between her and Emory worked. It was clear to Violet, at last, that hers was indeed the primary mind, the authority. Emory might not know what Violet was thinking or feeling, beyond what Violet wanted her to know. But Violet knew everything there was to Emory. And there wasn’t much. Intelligence for numbers, yes. Business savviness. The ability to memorize huge tracts of legal text. And little else. But there was room for desire, it seemed.
“Not tonight,” Violet said, just to exercise her dominance. She brushed her fingertips along Emory’s collarbone as she turned and left her there to gaze at the darkened bay, and clutched the skeleton key hanging around her neck as she descended the steps to go to her bedroom. There would be plenty of time for fun with Sam tomorrow night, after his art show. After all, they would have to celebrate.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Both hungry for more than frozen pizza, Kaia and Tommy went to the Hook and Anchor and ate burgers without speaking, tucked into a dark booth at the back of the pub. Kaia thought she ought to feel so sick with what she had done to Alexander that she should have no appetite, yet the weeks of being half-starved in the belly of the USS Davis gave her physical needs precedence over her those of her conscience.
“Do you know him?” she asked Tommy, at last. “A-Alexander?”
“He’s Frances’s second-in-command,” Tommy explained in a low voice. “Some say he wants to take her place. He spends a lot of time leading hunting parties. I wouldn’t say I know him, no. His fists, yes. The man inside—if there is one—no.”
They went on eating in silence for a time after that.
“You can stay with me as long as you like,” Kaia told Tommy when she had finished her burger and all of the fries and found the fortitude to speak, and to think again. Tommy lifted his eyes from his nearly clean plate, one cheek stuffed with the last remains of his burger. “Unless… you want to go back to the clan?”
Tommy shook his head. His soft blue eyes were red-rimmed and glassy from physical and emotional exhaustion. His lips were chapped. His wheat-colored hair was tangled and salty. His beard was long and unkempt, giving him the aspect of a mountain-man Jesus. He looked like he hadn’t slept in seventy years. “No way. They held me prisoner. Stole my life,” he said. “I would rather stay here with you for a bit. If that’s okay.”
“It is,” Kaia said, moved by the glimmer of tears shining in his eyes. “Oh! I know! We can look her up,” she exclaimed. Tommy stared blankly. “Olivia, your wife. We can search for her online.”
She had all but forgotten the laptop in the bottom of her duffel bag, which she had brought to Maine in case she got bored and wanted to watch movies. Now, the thought of being bored in Quolobit Harbor almost made her laugh.
Tommy’s light brown brows gathered in confusion. “Online?”
*
As it turned out, the house on Foley’s Point—though the plumbing was iffy and you had to light the stove with a match—did have WiFi. Kaia found Tommy’s wife easily. Olivia had been the daughter of a wealthy steel magnate and the wife of the owner of a luxury resort hotel in the Allegheny mountains. The hotel, now on the historical registry, was still a popular destination for weddings and romantic getaways. The resort had a whole page of its website dedicated to Olivia, who had used the hotel to run a hospital for veterans in the aftermath of World War Two.
According to Olivia’s brief biography, after the ‘death’ of her first husband, Tommy O’Holloran, she had remarried and gone on to have five children. She died at the age of ninety-one.
“Missed her by nine years,” Tommy said. He was dry-eyed, but his hands trembled as they moved toward the black-and-white photo of the beautiful young woman on the computer screen, then closed into fists. “I wanna be angry. I wanna feel like she betrayed me by marrying that other guy. But she didn’t. She thought I was dead. And I think she ended up happier than I would’ve ever made her.”
“Oh, Tommy, don’t say that—”
“Her father never wanted her to marry me—a rough-handed farm boy. We eloped, me and Olivia,” Tommy told Kaia with a feral look in his eyes. “Just before I shipped off. We only had one weekend together before… ” He dipped his head.
Kaia put her arm around his shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
“My mom and dad are gone, too,” he whispered, the realization hitting him with another blow of grief that made a sob escape him. Kaia held him tight. Eventually his weeping passed and he lifted his head. “I had a brother and a sister. Can we look them up?”
It didn’t take long to find that Tommy’s siblings were also deceased, leaving children and grandchildren behind. “Maybe you could try to connect with your nieces and nephews,” Kaia suggested. “Or… their kids?”
He shook his head and wiped his hands over his un-groomed face. “No,” he said. “I’d rather leave it behind.”
He got up and left the living room, climbing the stairs with heavy steps. A moment later she heard the door of the spare bedroom click closed, and she saw no more of Tommy for the rest of the night.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Tommy wasn’t around in the morning, either. Kaia woke long after dawn, having slept considerably more than eight hours, and found the house empty. The truck was gone.
“Shit,” she said, and would have maybe started to panic if she hadn’t heard its loud rumble approaching from deep in the woods sheltering the land.
“Hope it’s okay I stole your wallet and went to the store,” Tommy said as he hauled in two armfuls of groceries and set them down on the table. “I used that little plastic card thing you’ve got to pay. I’m not in the habit of taking other people’s money, but I didn’t think you’d want cold pizza for breakfast.”
Kaia laughed, hugging her sweater around her waist. “No, I really don’t.” She opened a bag to see a container of pastries, two navel oranges, and a carton of fresh cream. Another bag contained a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs, and several packages of deli meat. Her mouth watered. “Thanks, Tommy.” She wanted to ask him if he was okay, if he’d slept well, but saw the look of raw determination on his face and knew that to ask would be to wound. She smiled at him instead and told him she’d get the coffee going.
Tommy didn’t ask her questions, either, though she was fully aware that he noticed her restlessness throughout the day. She was still going back and forth on whether or not she should go to Sam’s show. And whether or not she would accept Sam back into her heart.
*
“I decided. I’m going,” Kaia announced to Tommy as she came into the living room, after showering and primping herself as best she could with nothing other than the cosmetics Violet had given her after their photoshoot.
It had irked Kaia momentarily to put on the makeup Violet had given her, but ultimately it was good stuff. She had even dabbed the wild rose perfume on her wrists and behin
d her neck, and rubbed a bit of it into her hair.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Tommy asked with a disapproving frown, turning from the hearth where he’d been tending the fire. “I mean, don’t you have a skirt or something?”
Kaia looked down at her loose, bohemian blouse tucked into high-waisted jeans. “What’s wrong with this?” she asked, then remembered. “Tommy. Things have changed,” she said gently. “Women dress however they like, now. And most of the time that means… not a skirt.”
His bloodshot eyes widened, then he dropped them to the hearthstone. “Right,” he said. “I’ve got a lot to learn, huh?”
Kaia sat on a creaky wooden chair at one end of the couch and began tuning her banjo. As she started playing Tommy grew still, his hands resting on the iron fire poker across his lap.
“Blue moon of Kentucky, keep on shining,” Kaia began to sing. “Shine on the one that’s gone and proved untrue…”
“Blue moon of Kentucky, keep on shining.” Another voice joined in, in harmony, soft but clear. “Shine on the one that’s gone and left me blue.”
Tommy stood, still singing along as he went to the guitar case and lifted out the instrument. He quickly tuned it with expert ease and began to play along with her.
“Well, you sure know your way around that thing,” Kaia said when they had finished the song. Tommy had impressed her with his skill on the guitar and the sweet, clear sound of his voice.
“You’re not too bad yourself.” His cheeks went subtly pink above the brush of his ruddy beard. “Used to play all the time with my grandpa. He was from West Virginia. I’m a bit rusty,” he told her as he noodled out a final riff. “Nice guitar, too. I’ve always been partial to Gibsons myself.” He put the guitar down on the couch, and Kaia felt the sadness returning to the room.
Then he said, “Guess I’d better get cleaned up if I’m gonna come play at this damn art show with you. You got a pair of scissors lyin’ around here somewhere?”
Kaia grinned.
*
Kaia endeavored to hold her head high as she walked into the Water’s Edge gallery with Tommy at her side, newly shorn and groomed. She had trimmed his hair so it was a little closer to the nape of his neck and not so uneven, and helped him cut his beard to a decent length, revealing a face that was damned handsome, if a bit gaunt.
There were already a dozen early birds milling around the gallery in snow boots and winter coats, taking in the turbulent, stormy paintings on display. A blonde woman was fussing over the wet floors and telling one of the catering staff to search for a mop in the closet. She looked so eerily like Violet that they had to be sisters—or even twins. Her icy eyes lit on Kaia as she loudly banged the snow off her boots at the doormat.
Ignoring the woman’s scowl, Kaia took note of the paintings of herself, which Sam had positioned as the centerpiece of the show. In one she was portrayed from the shoulders up, gazing away calmly. In the other, she was sprawled face down in his bed, bare back and thigh and part of her butt, pink as though freshly smacked—which it probably had been—exposed in the sheets. And between them, in silver decal lettering on the wall, was the title of the show: Song of the Siren.
She tried not to blush, but failed. Tommy gave her a wry look, and though his lips twitched, she was grateful he didn’t actually smirk.
She scanned the room for Sam and spotted him just as he looked away from a local who had been asking him about his paintings. He met her eyes with his cool, dark gaze, barely concealing the surprise he obviously felt at seeing her walk through the door. He was by far the best-dressed person in the gallery, though she knew that beneath the tailored suit he was hurting and scarred. His hair and beard had been freshly groomed too. He looked more devastatingly handsome than ever. A wild, feral sort of man—tamed, but barely.
Kaia swallowed the desire to walk right up to him and kiss him.
“Where do we set up?” Tommy asked as she ripped herself away from Sam’s gaze.
“Oh, um, looks like it’s over there.” Kaia pointed to a corner, where Harvey from the Hook and Anchor had already set up a PA system. She looked at Sam again and found him still watching her. Sam’s eyes flitted to Tommy. He offered a tight smile before returning to his conversation.
After setting up, Kaia began with a finger-picking rendition of the folksong Moonshiner. The song was like an old shoe her foot fit perfectly into; she didn’t have to think about singing it, didn’t have to worry about whether or not she could trust her fingers as they flew over the strings. And Tommy wove his way in beautifully. She caught herself smiling—actually smiling—at him as they parried back and forth together with riffs, as the vibration of his voice met and matched her own, a perfect harmonic fit. She had nearly forgotten just how good it felt to make music with someone who was on her wavelength, who knew the tunes in his bones, just like she did.
People floated into the gallery along with snow flurries—the cashier from Penfeld’s Market, Felicia and her daughters, even Markus the realtor. Many of them gave Kaia and Tommy approving smiles, but most were clearly enchanted by the paintings on the gallery walls. Sam’s cheeks were flushed while he was accosted by just about every human he’d ever known as they came to congratulate him.
Eventually, Sam found his way over when they were between songs. “You’re here,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d come, but I had Harvey set up the PA, just in case.”
“Wasn’t gonna let you down.” Kaia wanted to dive into the depths of his eyes, to hand him her broken, trembling heart, but she focused on retuning her banjo instead. “Looks like you’ve got a good turnout.”
“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” Tommy said, giving Kaia a conspiratorial wink as he nudged past her and Sam.
Kaia felt simultaneously thankful to him for vacating and terrified to be alone with Sam and what was between them.
“Did your dad show up yet?” she asked, wanting to keep the conversation light.
“He’s flying up from Florida and renting a car to drive north outta Boston,” Sam said. Bahstun. Kaia forced herself not to smile at his cute Downeaster accent. “But nope. He’s not here yet. I hope the snow doesn’t delay him.” He frowned.
“Hey,” Kaia said, reaching up to touch Sam’s shoulder. “He’ll get here. Don’t worry. And Sam… this is amazing.”
Sam grimaced at her touch and flinched away.
“What?” she asked, withdrawing.
“N—nothing.” He swiped his hand under his nose and sniffled, dark eyes meeting hers mistrustfully. “I, ah, went to Felicia.” He pulled at the open collar of his shirt to reveal a hand-drawn sigil in permanent marker on the un-tattooed side of his chest. That little bit of skin sent Kaia’s heart racing. She threw her gaze down to her boots. “She gave me some angelica root to keep in my pocket too. Violet shouldn’t be able to get to me now.” His eyes held a dark sort of hope that Kaia couldn’t find a way to respond to. Sam blinked, then said, “So, ah, how d’you think… Tommy’s doing?”
Kaia bristled. “Sam, are you jealous?” Because if he was, well, she could not abide that. Not considering what she still might put aside, what she might forgive. And she wouldn’t lie to herself—the fact that Sam had been with Violet was hurting her something bad, whether or not it had been against his will.
“I’m not jealous,” Sam whispered, leaning closer, close enough that she could smell his sandalwood soap and sense the warmth of his body heat radiating through his suit. He wrinkled his nose and squinted at her. “I know that what you and I had was more than either of us have ever had with anyone else, ever, combined, okay?” His dark eyes held hers. “I’m just wondering if we’ll ever get past the mistakes I’ve made. And me—I might not be whole, but what I have left of myself I want to give to you,” he said in a quiet rush. “I might not understand much about this life as a human, and nothing I do is without doubt and… and fucking fear”—he glanced around as if he was afraid at this precise moment—“but there is not a single grai
n of doubt in my heart about this, about how I feel for you.”
Kaia opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. Sam’s eyes widened.
“And I’m sincerely asking you—how do you think Tommy is doing?” he asked. “He told me they kept him down there seventy years. This has to be a total mind-fuck for him.”
“He’s disoriented and grieving, but I think he’s going to be okay. He’s going to stay with me for a while.” She watched him for any signs of jealousy at this announcement.
Sam nodded, his eyes scanning the thickening crowd. “Good,” he said, without malice.
Just then, the blonde version of Violet came over and tapped Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, there’s someone I want you to meet,” she purred, and drew him away without giving Kaia even the briefest of glances.
Sam slipped away as Tommy returned with two bottles of Smutty Nose Pale Ale and a plate of hors d’oeuvres. “I can see what you mean about the ladies wearing slacks,” he said, licking his fingers as he shoved a miniature taco into his mouth, eyes scanning the thickening crowd. “But, I gotta say, the fashion today in general? It ain’t flattering.”
Kaia just rolled her eyes and took a healthy swig of beer as she perched atop her stool again and adjusted her mic.
“What’s the story with you and him?” Tommy nodded in Sam’s direction.
“Ugh.” Kaia grunted. Her heart ached just looking at Sam. Thinking of how he had made her feel. Thinking of him with another woman.
“It’s like that, huh?” Tommy gave her a salty grin, lifting his brows. “You don’t wanna talk about it, no problem. What’s next, captain?”
“I don’t know,” Kaia grumbled, crestfallen.
“I got one for you,” Tommy said. “It was the big hit just before I went down.” He winked as he started an up-tempo walk-down bass line in the key of G. “Comin’ in on a wing and a prayer,” he began to sing, in his old-timey, countrified style.
They were midway through the 1940s tune and Kaia was sincerely enjoying herself when Violet herself slid into the gallery, swathed in a floor-length dress of deep-rose-colored silk with a thick fur mantle clutched around her shoulders.