“I’m not going to argue with you, Adele. As much as it seems like you want to, I won’t do it. I need to speak with Marianne to try to make sure she holds off on any reporting about Yuri so that you and Lucas and everyone else can be safe. I can’t do that if I’m angry. And I know you don’t really believe what you just said about me.”
Adele pulled into a parking space near the ferry terminal. “We’re here.”
Roland sighed. “Yeah. We’re here. I think it’s best that I speak to her alone, but I’ll need a ride back to Roche.”
“I’ll wait.”
“You don’t have to. I can find another way.”
“Roland, I said I’ll wait. Go find Marianne. Talk with her. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Adele watched Roland walking up and down the rows of vehicles as he looked for Marianne. Eventually she lost sight of him. The ferry sat at the terminal, its many lights and hulking mass of metal making it appear like a giant beast waiting for its next meal.
A few minutes later, the ferry workers began motioning for the vehicles to load. One row, then another, and then another, until all the vehicles were gone. The ferry’s horn blasted as it began to pull away from the dock. Soon it was fully enveloped by the dark, watery horizon.
Where is he?
Adele got out of the car. She could hear the water lapping up against the pebble-strewn beach that ran the length of the dock pilings. The terminal lights blinked out for the night, leaving Adele to stand in inky blackness.
“Roland?”
No answer.
“Roland? Where are you?”
Adele cursed under her breath and then continued to call Roland’s name. She heard her phone chime, took it out, and read the text message.
Spoke with Marianne. All good. I’ll find a ride back to Roche. Drive safe.
Adele shook her head and then texted back.
Stop acting like a child. Get over here. I’m waiting.
Roland didn’t respond. Adele put her phone away and started walking around the ferry terminal parking lot. “I’m not leaving,” she shouted. “I’ll stay out here all night if I have to. Don’t think I won’t. Is that what you want?”
Adele heard a faint splash and then another. She followed the sound until she reached a set of concrete stairs that led down to the beach. The sound stopped. She peered into the gloom trying to locate the source then took one step down and then another.
“Roland? Is that you?”
The stairs smelled of seagulls, saltwater, and sand. Adele took out her phone and used it as a flashlight. The last few steps before she reached the beach were still slick from when the tide had come in earlier.
“You don’t act scared.”
The sound of Roland’s voice made Adele jump. “Where are you?”
“Over here. Just keep walking.”
Adele found him standing in the dark skipping rocks across the water. “Not cool, Roland. You don’t just leave like that. I was waiting for you.”
“I do what I want. All I care about is myself. Isn’t that what you just said?”
“You want me to worry? Is that it? Because if it is then congratulations. Mission accomplished.”
Roland skipped another rock, turned around, and put his hands on his hips. “What do you want from me, Adele? Tell me and I’ll do it. Do you want me to go away? Do you want me to stay? Are we just friends? Are we something more? I’m asking because right now I don’t have a damn clue. You don’t want me to sell the bank? Fine. I won’t sell it. You don’t want me building a new house? Okay, I’ll tear it down. You don’t want my boat in the same marina as yours? Just say the word and it’s gone. You want me to give you my blessing to be with Lucas? Go for it. JUST TELL ME WHAT THE HELL YOU WANT.”
The clouds parted, allowing the beach to be illuminated by the light of a nearly full moon. Adele stared into Roland’s eyes and saw his frustration, his confusion, and his pain.
“I want the same for you that I want for everyone I care about, Roland. I want you to be happy.”
Roland shook his head. “That’s not an answer and you know it. Do you regret when we were together on the yacht? Remember? Is that what’s come between us? That we had sex that one time?”
“No, Roland, I don’t regret what happened that day. Regret has nothing to do with this.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t really know. All this Russian stuff, Liya Vasa, Yuri, what happened with Visili, it started with you, Roland. You and your greed, your desire to always make more money. That’s what brought this trouble to the islands. Why don’t you get that? Why can’t you take responsibility for it? You made this mess and all of us have been left fighting to clean it up.”
“So, you’re saying your life would be better if I wasn’t a part of it. Is that it?”
When Adele tried to reply, Roland interrupted. “No, don’t deny it. That is what you’re saying. You can’t move past the fact I did some business with Yuri. Even after I took your advice and terminated the casino project and then gave my entire Cattle Point property to the county so they could build a drug treatment center, you have this need to continue holding it over my head. I don’t understand why, but it’s clear you do. Fine. You keep holding on to your resentment, Adele, but don’t expect me to keep putting up with it. I’m moving on—without you. Life is too short to be constantly beaten down by people who claim to care. I don’t need that.”
“Roland, stop it. You’re taking this too far. It’s late. We’re both tired and stressed and saying things we’re going to later regret.”
“I’m saying exactly how I feel. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me to do?”
“Not like this. C’mon. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.”
Roland shook his head. “No, we won’t.”
Adele realized then how serious Roland was. She felt her throat tighten and her heart pound. “You don’t mean that.”
For a second Adele thought she saw in Roland’s eyes a desire to finally relent and give in to reason, put aside his hurt feelings, and return with her to the car. Then those eyes hardened, his head lifted, and he retreated to some place deep inside of himself where Adele knew he wouldn’t allow anyone to follow—not even her. The two words that came next cut as much as any blade ever could.
“Goodbye, Adele.”
10.
A dele woke up feeling nearly as tired as when she went to bed. Most of the night was spent lying on her back in the dark wondering if she owed Roland an apology.
They had argued before, but this was different. The way Roland sounded, the way he looked at her when he said goodbye, it felt permanent. Adele wouldn’t accept that. She couldn’t. The thought of life without Roland Soros in it didn’t compute. They had shared too much, come too far, for it to suddenly end.
The wind blew the rain sideways as it pummeled the outside of the sailboat. It was going to be a cold, wet day in the San Juans. Adele pushed herself out of bed and put on a pot of coffee. She looked through the porthole over the sink. The docks were empty.
Adele hoped a quick shower would help her to wake up. It didn’t. The coffee didn’t do much either. She brushed her teeth, put on a rain jacket, pulled its hood tight over her head, and stepped outside.
Even the normally vocal seagulls were hiding out from the weather. White caps slapped against boat hulls as the dock gently swayed from side to side. Adele zipped the jacket up to her neck and leaned into the wind with her head down, trying to keep the rain from hitting her in the face.
She decided to pay Roland an early morning visit on his yacht. They would sit down, talk it out like they had always done before, and things would go back to whatever passed for normal between them.
The Burger remained tied up at the end of the dock. Adele had worried Roland might have moved the yacht before morning. She wondered where he might have gone if he had actually done so. Friday Harbor? Anacortes? Bellingham? It didn’t matter. He was still in Roche and s
oon their most recent argument would be another story to laugh about later.
Adele walked up the boarding ramp, stepped onto the yacht, and pressed her face against one of the windows. It was dark inside. She tried one of the side doors and found it locked. She went to the back of the boat and tried the aft entrance. It too was locked. Adelle knocked on the door. When Roland didn’t answer, she returned to the side door and knocked there. Still no answer.
The wind was getting stronger. Adele knocked again, waited, and then walked back down the boarding ramp. Her shoes were getting soaked by the rain. She wondered if Roland might still be sleeping inside the yacht or if he had possibly stayed the night somewhere in Friday Harbor. She took out her phone and texted him.
Let’s talk. Are you on the yacht?
The message was immediately kicked back. Roland had blocked her number.
C’mon, Roland? Really?
Adele knew Tilda would be up already. Few woke earlier than her. She also made excellent coffee. Adele put her phone away, put her head down, and headed toward the hotel.
“You’re soaked,” Tilda remarked as Adele stepped into the lobby. “Go sit down by the fire. Would you like some coffee?”
Adele took off her jacket and hung it on the rack just inside the door. “Yes,” she replied. “Thank you. My first cup didn’t take. I hardly slept a wink last night.”
The fire felt good as Adele rubbed her hands in front of it. Tilda arrived with the coffee and then took the chair next to her. “Okay, I know that look,” she said. “What’s bothering you?”
Adele sipped from her cup and wondered why Tilda’s coffee was so much better than her own and then realized she hadn’t given her an answer. “It’s Roland. We had an argument. A bad one.”
“You two have argued before. Why is this any different?”
Adele watched the fire’s flames dancing in the century-old stone hearth. “He was really upset this time. I’m not exactly sure why though.”
“Were you able to speak with the newswoman before she left?”
“Yes, Roland did. I stayed in the car. He said she agreed not to broadcast a story on Yuri.”
“And you fought after that?”
“We were fighting before, during, and after. He even blocked me on his phone. He’s never done that. He actually told me goodbye. I think he really meant it, Tilda.”
“Oh, I doubt that. So, what did you say to him?”
Adele frowned. “You think this is my fault?”
“No, I’m just trying to better understand what might have started it. You’re being defensive. That usually means you’re aware on some level that you might have contributed to whatever caused the argument. I say this as someone who has been the primary cause of many an argument. We often don’t realize how hurtful the things we say can be.”
“I told him I was scared about Liya Vasa.”
“And did you blame Roland for that?”
“I suppose. I mean, he is to blame.”
“Will blaming Roland for what he did or didn’t do before make you any safer now?”
“I want him to understand how his actions have consequences.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
“Adele, you can’t make him into the version of Roland Soros you want him to be any more than he could force that change onto you. He is who he is.”
“So, none of us should work to be better versions of ourselves?”
“I didn’t say that. You’re being defensive again.”
“Stop saying that. I heard you the first time.”
“Then stop being defensive.”
“I didn’t come here for a lecture.”
“No, you came for a sympathetic ear, but I’m more concerned with telling you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear.”
Adele put her coffee down and folded her arms across her chest. “You know what I need? Well then, by all means do tell.”
“I don’t think you realize how intimidating your success is to both Roland and Lucas and how much they want to prove themselves to you and everyone else on these islands.”
“My success?”
“Yes, Adele, your success. You came here with nothing and created something remarkable. People from all over the world read your newspaper. Do you know why?”
“Go ahead. Explain it to me.”
“The stories in your paper, they avoid the snark and bias that dominates other news sources. You write about people in a way that many find almost impossible to ignore. I used to read the Island Gazette with nothing more than mild curiosity. Now? I never miss an issue. For me it’s a must-read and clearly, given how your readership has grown, I’m not the only one who feels that way. Your stories are so compelling because they are honest, they’re real, and they allow us to share in your own journey of self-discovery.”
“Okay, I appreciate the compliment, I really do, but what does any of that have to do with Roland and Lucas?”
Tilda put a hand on Adele’s knee and smiled. “Roland is the only surviving link to one of the most powerful and influential men to live on these islands. His life has been spent in the long shadow of that legacy. He was given a business that he had nothing to do with creating. Everyone knows that, especially Roland.
“Lucas is the son of a beloved physician. Like Roland, he too was born into a name that awarded him privilege he didn’t have to earn. When he went off to make something of himself beyond this place, he failed. He returned a former golden boy, a broken athlete, a might-have-been. So, he becomes sheriff in the hope of making himself into something more than merely the son of Dr. Edmund Pine.
“And then you come along with hardly more than two pennies to rub together, alone, defiant, far braver and more intelligent than most, who then ultimately, undeniably, becomes this great success—all on your own.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve shared with me your frustration with either Roland or Lucas. What I think you possibly fail to recognize is that frustration is largely coming from their desire to prove themselves worthy of your respect. I’m not saying that should always excuse their actions but rather that those actions most likely come from a well-intentioned place.”
Adele had been watching the flames as she listened. She turned and looked at Tilda. “I’m not going to apologize for succeeding with the newspaper.”
“I’m not talking about apologies. This is about understanding. Do you know how wonderful it is to have two men like Roland Soros and Lucas Pine in your life? They both care for you so much. Don’t abuse that caring by trying to turn them into something you think you would find more acceptable. Allow them to be the men they are. If you can’t do that then perhaps Roland was right last night. Goodbye might very well be the proper road to take at this point.”
“No,” Adele said with a shake of her head. “That’s not an option. Not for me. I want Roland in my life.”
Tilda sat back in her chair, straightened her ankle-length skirt, and crossed her legs. “Okay, then you go find him and straighten this out. Tell him how much he means to you. Be honest—as honest and real as the stories in your paper. I believe that’s what most men want.”
“Speaking of which, where’s Brixton? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Brixton Bannister was the former Hollywood actor who had faked his own death years ago and then took up residence inside a hidden cave on Ripple Island on the northern edge of the San Juans. Following his return to the world of the living, he had spent an increasing amount of time with Tilda at the hotel. So much time, in fact, that most Roche Harbor regulars assumed the two were a couple. Adele had never seen Tilda so happy as she was when Brixton was around.
Tilda sighed. “I was wondering when you would bring his absence up. Where is he? I’m not sure. Perhaps back at his place on Ripple Island. We might very well have had our own goodbye moment.”
“Really? I thought you two were doing so well.”
“I fear Brixton couldn�
�t accept that the world had happily moved on without him. He was certain his return from the dead would have created more interest. When it didn’t, he became increasingly frustrated about what his purpose in this new-to-him world was to be. He would leave on that little skiff of his for days at a time, often without letting me know. When I complained, he informed me he would always be his own man and that a life constantly inside the walls of a hotel was not for him. After that I said nothing. He would leave and then return looking more gaunt, wild-eyed, and less civilized than before. The last time he left was nearly a month ago. I haven’t seen him since.”
“I’m so sorry, Tilda. Here I was going on and on about Roland. I had no idea.”
“It is what it is. I miss him, but I also refuse to allow a man to dictate my moods. There is so much life yet to be lived and so little time in which to do it.”
“But if you think I should seek out Roland why don’t you feel the same about Brixton?”
Tilda arched a brow. “All due respect to Brixton, but he is no Roland Soros. Now, if I were thirty years younger . . .”
“Huh. And here I was thinking Roland always rubbed you the wrong way.”
“Oh, Roland annoys the hell out of me to be sure. He’s arrogant, impulsive, self-involved, but those qualities often come with those people we find most interesting. Besides, my instincts for such things tell me he’s well versed in how to rub a woman the right way. Then again, you’d know far more about that than I.”
Tilda laughed when she saw Adele’s cheeks go red. “It feels good knowing that despite all your success I can still make you blush.”
Adele got up. “And on that note, I think it’s time to get going. I’ll be busy most of the day finalizing the next issue and then I’m stopping by the bookstore to do some research for the Orcas Island trip with Fin tomorrow.”
“When do you plan on seeing Roland?”
Roche Harbor Rogue Page 7