“Oh,” Ophelia said. “You two will be neighbors. How wonderful.”
Roland grinned. “Yeah, I figure we’ll get along great when we’re not trying to kill each other.” He looked over at Adele. “Isn’t that right?”
Ophelia plopped a single pea into her mouth. “Relationships are complicated things, but the right ones are always worth the effort. What good is life without someone to share it with?”
“Amen to that,” Roland declared while raising his empty wine glass. “To friends and a life worth sharing.”
Ophelia got up from the table. “I can’t believe I forgot the wine. I’ll be right back.” She returned with an open bottle and filled the glasses. “This was produced right here at the convent some years ago. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” She held the bottle up and turned it slowly in her hands. “Yes, there’s the date—1987.”
Roland stopped swirling the wine in his glass and looked up. “Really? That’s the year I was born. I guess that qualifies it as a particularly good year.”
Ophelia sipped from her glass and then gave Roland a thin smile. “Yes, it was.”
Roland had a sip and then nodded. “Mm, this is good wine. Have you and the other nuns ever thought of commercializing your little operation here? With the farm-to-table movement going on I’m certain it would generate a nice bit of revenue for you. I’d be happy to help with seed money, logistics, a promotional campaign, whatever.”
Ophelia wagged her finger. “No talking business at the dinner table, Mr. Soros.”
“Fair enough,” Roland said after emptying his glass. “As long as you keep that wine coming.”
Ophelia pushed the bottle across the table. “Help yourself.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Roland refilled his glass and then held the bottle over Adele’s. “Ready for more?”
Adele nodded. “Sure, fill me up.”
Roland arched a brow and smirked as he poured the wine. Then he set the bottle down and raised his glass. “Okay, let’s have a proper toast.” He looked at Adele and Ophelia. “To our gracious host, Mother Mary Ophelia. One could not ask for a finer meal and better company. And to the bravest, most intelligent, and yes, sometimes most aggravating young woman I know, Adele Plank. It is my honor to be sharing this table with the two of you this evening.”
“You forgot one thing, Roland,” Ophelia said.
“I did?”
“You forgot beautiful.”
“You’re right. To the beautiful, Mother Mary Ophelia.”
Ophelia shook her head and pointed at Adele. “Not me, her!”
“What?” Roland stroked his beard. “Adele? Beautiful? C’mon . . .”
Adele elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re such a twerp.”
Roland nearly spit out his wine as he started laughing. “You’ve called me a lot of things since we met, but I do believe this to be the very first time you’ve used twerp.” He finished his wine and then raised his glass again. “To first times. May they come again and again and again.” After a brief pause, he continued. “Oh, and to the very beautiful Adele Plank.”
Adele opened her mouth to say something but quickly closed it again as Roland leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Never before,” he whispered, “has anyone made a bad boy want to be so good.”
It could have been the wine, the words, or maybe even the beard that made Adele do what she did next. She didn’t know and she didn’t care. All she wanted then was to repay Roland with the exact same kindness he had just shown her. When he went to pull away, she put her hand behind his head, ran her fingers through his hair, and pulled him close. Instead of kissing him she gently bit down on his earlobe. “Never before,” she whispered, “has a good girl wanted to be so bad.”
Roland sat up and blinked a few times with his mouth hanging partly open while Adele looked over at Ophelia, hoping the dinner table display hadn’t offended the nun. “My goodness,” Ophelia said. “Aren’t you two something?”
“I’m so sorry,” Roland stammered. “That wasn’t appropriate. I fear the wine got the better of my manners.”
Ophelia scowled. “Not appropriate? Don’t be such a prude. There’s nothing wrong with two people being attracted to one another—nothing at all. I’m happy for the chance to play matchmaker. As for the wine, there’s still some left. If there is one hard rule to this place it’s never to allow a good bottle to go waste so drink up or shut up.”
After the wine was finished the three sat by the fire. Not long after, Ophelia’s eyes closed, and she began to snore. Roland quietly placed a few more logs into the hearth and then turned around. “I can sleep in a chair out here and you can have the bed in the cabin,” he said. “Or vice versa. Whatever you want.”
Ophelia’s eyes opened. “Don’t be silly. Share the cabin. I trust you both not to do anything that would disrespect my hospitality.”
Roland shrugged. “You can still have the bed and I’ll take the floor.”
“Sure,” Adele replied. “That’ll work.”
Ophelia closed her eyes and smiled. “See?” she mumbled. “That wasn’t so hard. Don’t worry about me. I’ll put myself to bed in a bit.” Within seconds she was snoring again.
Roland had Adele use the convent’s first floor bathroom first to take care of her toiletries. When she returned to the cabin, he left to do the same, which also allowed her some privacy while getting ready for bed. She stripped down to her underwear and T-shirt, got under the covers, and waited. It wasn’t long before she heard a knock at the door and Roland asked if it was okay to come in. She said yes, he entered, and then closed the door behind him.
“You sure you’ll be okay sleeping on the floor?”
“Sure,” Roland said. “Throw me down a pillow and I’ll be good. No worries. Fact is that mattress is pretty firm. I doubt it’s much better.”
Adele pulled the covers up to her neck and stretched her legs. “It’s comfy, like the bed on my sailboat.”
Roland took his shirt off, adjusted his pillow, lay back, and looked up at Adele. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I wouldn’t know.”
“Maybe someday.”
Roland put his hands behind his head and grinned. “That’s a verbal contract, young lady. And don’t think I won’t hold you to it. I have a whole team of liars, I mean lawyers, to argue the dispute.”
“I said maybe. It’s not contractually binding.”
“It implies intent. There’s really no need to waste time and resources on a messy legal battle though. We’d both be much better off coming to a mutually acceptable agreement.
“Oh? And what might that be?”
Roland sat up. “Something along the lines of a proper goodnight kiss would probably work.”
Adele struggled to keep the serious facade going. “I don’t know. That might just complicate the case.”
“No, it would make it all go away. It’s a win-win. It really is the only option that makes any sense.”
“I’ve kissed you once tonight already.”
“And once is enough?”
“Sure—more than enough.”
“Ah,” Roland said, grinning. “It was that good, huh?”
Adele shrugged. “What I meant is that when something’s not all that great to begin with then having it once is all you want to bother with. Sort of like fast food. You have too much of it and it just makes you feel awful.”
Watching the concern spread across Roland’s face made Adele want to break out laughing. “Are you still messing with me or are you being serious?” he said.
Adele reached over and turned out the light before Roland could see her smiling. “Goodnight, Roland.” She heard him lie back down and felt his eyes on her. “Roland?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll confess. I was messing with you.”
Roland sat back up. Adele couldn’t see his face but could make out the outline of his head and shoulders. “You change your mind about that goodnight kiss?”
Adele propped herself up sideways onto her elbow. “Sure. Why not?” She still couldn’t see Roland’s face but felt his breath on her skin as he inched closer until the tips of their noses touched. He breathed deep as she enjoyed the sensation of his lips brushing her cheek, and then the kiss arrived with a speed and urgency that took Adele by surprise. For a second the rational part of her thought to push him away, but another part of her, one that was at that moment much stronger, welcomed the intrusion, embraced it, and demanded more. They had been together once before years ago, but that time had been an alcohol-fueled moment of desire and naivete mixed with equal parts insecurity. This time felt much different.
It felt better.
A lot better.
So, when Roland suddenly lay back down again, leaving Adele struggling to catch her breath, she was again surprised by how much she had wanted him to continue. It had been a long time since she had wanted something that bad.
Roland let out a long, satisfied sigh. Though Adele couldn’t see him she knew he was smiling.
“Goodnight, Adele.”
24.
A dele sat inside her sailboat in front of her laptop staring at a blank screen. She had promised Jose a story by the end of the day. It was already late afternoon, and nothing had come to her yet. Her mind kept wandering back to last night and the intense yet much too brief kiss with Roland.
Focus, Adele. Stop acting like a love-struck schoolgirl. You have work to do.
Fin had stopped by earlier asking how the trip went and when they’d be back to Orcas. Adele talked with him for a few minutes but then sent him away with an apology that she was up against a deadline. He took it well with a grin and a tip of his cap and a promise to be by later to see if she was hungry, in need of a drink, or both.
Jose suggested she write about the cave on Orcas. She hadn’t told him the backstory to that discovery and her motivation for going there, especially the part about Karl Bloodbone, but now she was rethinking that omission.
She took her phone out and scrolled through the pictures of the cave and the clearing she had taken and then decided the one showing the odd inscription on the inside of the shack door would strike just the right tone for the article.
Be a slave to the truth or know freedom from the lie.
Adele repeated the phrase to herself several times as her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She typed the words, deleted them, then typed them again as thoughts led to possible destinations and the article’s potential began to finally take shape.
The door, the inscription, and a shared adventure with the son of the man who had first helped her to make the islands her home. Adele nodded. The next edition of the paper was going to be a good one.
She began to write.
The Island Gazette
“Be a slave to the truth or know freedom from the lie.”
by Adele Plank
Orcas has long held a special place in our island community as a destination of secrets, adventure, and spiritual awakening. Its rocky, weather-worn shores and dense evergreen forests whisper of rumors that continue to hide truths and a future that remains bound to a far less serene and sometimes violent past marked by names like Skull Island, Victim Island, and Massacre Bay, as well as the ecological abuses of the powerful Hudson’s Bay Company.
It was in search of some of that past that took me to Orcas recently with a man who is himself tied to our little watery oasis by way of simple genetics. Many of you reading this are familiar with the name Delroy Hicks. I was very blessed to know more than just the name. Delroy was my friend and one-time mentor. And like Orcas Island, Delroy, too, was a thing of secrets that hid behind layers of seeming indifference and good intent.
His name is Fin Hicks and he is Delroy’s son. He shares a lot in common with his father—both good and bad. There is the lopsided grin, cordial warmth, and easy charm, as well as the inclination to sometimes jump first without checking to see what might be below while taking others with them. A longtime Roche Harbor resident, while watching Fin moving about the docks, remarked how he looked like a bit of a rogue.
Indeed.
I journeyed with this rogue to Orcas Island to follow up on research originally begun by his father during a conflict that took place more than forty years earlier between a man named Karl Bloodbone and other island residents who didn’t appreciate his particular version of spirituality. Some called Bloodbone and his followers a cult and a lie that fed off the desperations of the sick and dying. His supporters knew him as a Native American healer uniquely in sync with the primordial heartbeat of the island.
The dispute between both sides burned hot for a while but then, as most often happens with such things, it dissipated and was largely forgotten, including the book Delroy wrote about the people and events of that time. It was titled The Mystery of the Lekwiltok Crystal, a reference to the stone that was often seen hanging around Mr. Bloodbone’s neck. Delroy’s final published assessment of Bloodbone was not kind and clearly sided with his many detractors.
But was that final assessment the truth or the lie?
Fin and I went in search of the answer. What we found was both less and more than we expected.
The photograph that accompanies this story is of a shack in a clearing that was the one-time home of Bloodbone and his followers. The inscription inside the door remains some forty years after it was put there, though its true meaning remains a mystery.
Be a slave to the truth or know freedom from the lie.
Could Delroy Hicks have been the slave who won his freedom by publishing a lie?
I don’t have that answer—yet.
There are those who believe Karl Bloodbone remains very much alive despite multiple accounts of his presence on the islands dating back to the time of Robert Moran’s arrival to Orcas in 1906—113 years earlier. Surely such a lifespan isn’t actually possible.
Is it?
Years earlier, I arrived at these islands a guest and then returned wanting to remain here forever. Perhaps what happened between then and now could in a way be called magic, how a place and a person seem destined to be a part of each other. Some of you readers likely consider that to be overly sentimental nonsense. I’m a sensible sort except when it comes to the San Juan Islands. There really is something different about this place. It can be difficult to pinpoint that difference, but you know it’s there, like gravity or the air we breathe—invisible yet so very essential to our existence.
Fin Hicks traveled here from Ireland hoping to learn more about a father he never met. I came here hoping to find myself. Similar stories of self-discovery are legion in this place of rock and sea where we are all allowed the time and space to be islands unto ourselves. Is that magic? I like to think so.
Following the publication of this article I intend to continue trying to solve the mystery of Karl Bloodbone. I look forward to sharing the outcome of that work with you all in an upcoming issue of the paper.
Wish me luck.
25.
“H old up. I was just on my way to see you.”
Adele turned around to see Lucas jogging toward her. The early evening wind was blowing cold across the Roche Harbor docks. It would be dark soon.
“Is everything okay?”
“You have a minute?” Lucas replied.
Uh-oh, Adele thought right before telling Lucas she was on her way to see Roland on his yacht.
“Good, then you already know he’s back. I had messaged him a few times and he finally replied earlier today saying he was back in Roche.”
“Yeah, I found him at the convent on Shaw again. We stayed overnight there. Apparently, he just needed some time to unwind or whatever. You know how Roland can be.”
Lucas pursed his lips as he shrugged. “Sure. You two spent the night together?”
“It was innocent. I was just there to make sure he was okay.”
“And?”
“And he’s okay. That’s it.”
“But now you’re
on your way to see him again.”
“No, I’m actually standing here waiting to hear what it is you needed to talk to me about.”
Lucas sighed. “Sorry, I’m being a bit of a dick. It’s none of my business where you spent the night.”
“Your choice of words not mine.”
“Anyways, it’s about Sandra Penny.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did you know Roland has been in talks to sell the bank?” When Adele didn’t answer, Lucas grunted. “Of course, you knew. He probably told you himself.”
“No, he didn’t. Someone else did.”
“Who?”
“Lucas, that’s not important. You’re here about Sandra Penny, remember?”
“If you knew about the sale why hasn’t there been anything in the paper about it?”
“Do I tell you how to run the sheriff’s department? No, I don’t. So, don’t tell me how to run my newspaper.”
“Fair enough.”
Adele glanced behind her wondering if Roland was watching. When she looked up at Lucas, he was pouting. “What?” she said.
“Nothing.”
“Are you going to tell me about Sandra Penny or not?”
“Sure. That’s why I’m here.”
Adele raised her brows. “Well?”
“It’s about the sale. I thought that could have been Sandra’s motivation for trying to scare you. That is if she was actually the one driving the car that morning.”
“I don’t understand what one has to do with the other.”
“I was thinking—this is all hypothetical of course—that she wanted to scare you into believing she was one of the Russians, get you to blame Roland and make him have second thoughts about the sale so that she doesn’t lose her position there. I’m not saying it’s a perfect explanation, I know it has a lot of holes, but I also wanted you to know that I believe you. Someone was looking to intimidate you and whoever it was used Sandra Penny’s car to do it.”
“Are you more willing to think it could be her because she didn’t want to bring the car in to be looked at?”
Roche Harbor Rogue Page 17