The Mist of Quarry Harbor

by Liz Adair

  Aaron brought her a pillow, bending over in the constricted headroom of the berth. Cassie tucked it under her head and thanked him. As he turned to go, she said, “Aaron?”

  “Yes?”

  “I am so sorry about your boat. You must take the Red Swan.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “I’m not being ridiculous.” Cassie reached up and took his hand. “If you hadn’t come to save me, you wouldn’t have lost your boat. You built the Red Swan. Someone else might own her, but she’s yours. You must let me make this right.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take her tomorrow. I have to go to Seattle, and with the ferry out and my skiff who-knows-where, I’m in a bit of a bind. So, thank you. I will take the Red Swan, but just for tomorrow.” He squeezed her hand and set it down on the blanket.

  As he turned away, Cassie said, “Not just for tomorrow. For as long as you need it until you can replace your skiff.”

  “All right, Cassie,” he said, and she could tell he was smiling. “You drive a hard bargain. Now go to sleep.”

  Curled up in the bunk, Cassie could hear the sound of the water lapping against the side and feel the boat swinging in the breeze at the end of the anchor rope. Thinking of Aaron, she wondered what would drive a man to start smuggling. He didn’t seem the type to do such a thing. Whatever he had done in the past, she thought, he had certainly redeemed himself tonight. On that note, she drifted off to sleep.

  She woke hours later to the throbbing of the engine and the slap of water against the hull. The bow was rising and falling, but it was nothing like the steep climb and headlong freefall of the evening before. The sky was still black, but the clouds were gone and stars were twinkling brightly, and the approaching dawn was making the edges of the horizon lighter.

  Climbing out of the bunk, Cassie padded in to stand by Aaron. She could see his strong profile.

  “Hi,” he said quietly, folding down the mate’s chair for her.

  “Hi,” she replied, sitting up beside him.

  “If we hadn’t come out now, we’d have had to wait until the next tide. It looks like the storm’s blown over. The weather has settled, and the barometer is rising.”

  “Mmmm,” Cassie said sleepily.

  They sailed in companionable silence, arriving at Quarry Harbor just before sunup. After they tied up, Cassie put on her damp boots and got the bag with her wet clothes in it. Standing by Aaron, who was making an entry into the ship’s log, she said, “Thank you again, Aaron. And, please, use the Red Swan for as long as you need. Leave the key with Mr. Knuteson when you’re done. I’m going home.”

  Then, after touching his arm, she climbed over the gunwale and turned toward the hotel, vowing that the only boat she would ever set foot on again would be the ferry leaving St. Mary’s Island.

  23

  Peeking through the front door of the hotel, Cassie was relieved to see that no one was around. She slipped unseen up to her room, and as she hung her wet pantsuit on a hook with the plastic bag spread under it on the floor, she wondered if the cleaners would be able to resurrect it.

  She changed into her Levi’s and a knit shirt and carried the soggy fleece and borrowed sweats down to the laundry. While they were washing, she went to the dining room and had breakfast.

  “Do we have a ferry yet?” she asked when Patty came to take her order.

  “Tomorrow at the earliest.” Patty tried to look sympathetic.

  “I’ll have oatmeal,” Cassie decided. “Tell me, Patty, do you ever get claustrophobic?”

  “Yes.” She smiled impishly. “When I’m cooped up in a classroom.” Closing her order book, she walked away.

  Cassie followed her with her eyes and said, “Uh-oh.” She noticed a copy of The Island Standard, a local newspaper that someone had left on an adjacent table. As she waited for her cereal, she paged through it and was amazed to find that she was familiar now with many of the places and issues. Long after she was finished with breakfast, she sat reading an extended article about the proposed limit on bottom fishing. When she finally stood to go take care of her laundry, she realized how stiff and sore her body was, like the day after her first aerobics class. Too much rockin’ and rollin’, she thought.

  Back in her room, Cassie was determined to work on her list of to-dos, starting with contacting the Border Patrol. If she couldn’t get to Seattle to talk to them today, she would do it by phone, and she began by calling information for the number of the Seattle office. That was the easy part. Setting her phone card on the table beside her, she began a marathon of button pushing that included several menu loops where, after choosing an option each time, she was finally routed back to the original menu. Only after nearly three hours of frustration was she finally able to talk to a real person. Whether it was her story or the desperation in her voice, she couldn’t tell, but something worked, and the lady gave her a name and a direct line number to call.

  Cassie was just about to dial that number when someone knocked on the door.

  “Yes?” She called.

  “It’s me.”

  “Patty?” Cassie went to the door and opened it.

  “You got a call from Amy Fletcher. She couldn’t get through to your room, so she asked me to bring you a message. Is there any way you could come over and see her today? She’d like to talk to you. She says it’s important.”

  “Go over to Cedar Cove? I don’t think I can. I have no way over.”

  “I’ll take you,” Patty offered. “I’m off in half an hour.”

  “I don’t want to take up your day. I’ll call her.”

  Patty persisted. “It’s no bother. I’d love to take you.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Look,” Patty said earnestly. “Amy Fletcher is a great person. If she wants you to come over, you should come over. I’ll take you. It’s settled.”

  Cassie looked out the window at the wind sock hanging limply on top of the harbormaster’s cabin. “All right. I’ll go with you. But first, I have another call to make.”

  “Great! Meet me downstairs in half an hour.”

  Cassie turned back to her task, dialing the precious number, the direct line to someone who might be able to help.

  A clipped female voice answered. “Mr. Hubbard’s office.”

  “My name is Cassie Jordain. May I speak with Mr. Hubbard, please?”

  “Mr. Hubbard is out for the day. He will be in tomorrow. May I have him return your call?”

  “What time will he be in tomorrow?”

  “Eight-thirty.”

  “I’ll call back then,” Cassie said. “Wait! May I make an appointment to see him?”

  “Tomorrow? I have an opening at one-thirty. Will that do?”

  Cassie mentally computed the ferry ride and drive from Anacortes. “Yes. That will be fine. I’ll be there at one-thirty.”

  As she hung up the phone, Cassie felt like cheering. At last! She was finally going to be able to let them know about Chan.

  Folding up her to-do list, she stuck it in her day-timer and put it in her purse. She slung it over her shoulder, grabbed her jacket, and ran down the stairs to sit in the lobby, leafing through a magazine until Patty came through with her apron in her hand.

  “We have to be on our way back by two,” Patty said. “Irene called in sick, and I’m going to take her shift.”

  “More college money,” Cassie said, putting a bright spin on it as they headed out the door.

  When they got to the Porters’ old cruiser, Patty turned on the blowers and then started the engine. “Life jackets are under that bench.”

  Cassie shook her head. “This morning I said I never wanted to get on another boat except the ferry out of here. But, I think being out in that wind yesterday was like a trial by fire, and it’s given me more confidence. Besides,” she patted the davit pole, “I’m kind of attached to your old boat.”

  Patty’s eyes grew wide. “You were out in that gale?”

  “In a boat
without power.” Cassie spent the ride to Cedar Cove describing her ordeal and subsequent rescue by Aaron Fletcher.

  “He went out in that in his skiff?” Patty asked in disbelief, cutting the power as they approached the public dock.

  Ready with a line as the boat drifted alongside the float, Cassie said, “Yes. And the last we saw of it, it was drifting away, half full of water.” She ignored the stiffness in her joints and jumped out onto the dock to secure the boat, bow and stern.

  “Rotten luck for Aaron,” Patty said, checking the mooring lines. As she led the way up to the sidewalk, she asked, “Do you know how to get to Amy’s house?”

  “Yes. I was there yesterday. Was it just yesterday?”

  “I told her when we’d be here. She’s getting someone to cover for her so she can talk with you. She said if she’s not there yet, go on in. Nobody locks their doors around here. I’m going to visit a friend. See you back here at a quarter to two. Okay?”

  Patty turned right and Cassie crossed the street, turning left and heading for the road that went up the hill. On her ascent, Cassie passed a glass-fronted gift shop where she caught sight of some cunning wooden toy boats on display. One was a double-ender with a red hull and a white cabin, not exactly like the Red Swan, but very similar. Thinking of a little brown-eyed boy that she’d like to give that boat to, she hesitated about taking the time to buy it. She had just about decided not to take the time when she was jolted by the sight of Luke Matthews coming around the corner. Instinctively, she bolted through the gift shop door, ignoring the startled look of the elderly lady minding the till and heading to the back of the store, where a freestanding rack of matted watercolors offered cover. Peeking out from behind the display, Cassie held her breath as she watched Luke pause at the doorway of the gift shop, glance around, look at his watch, and then pass out of sight.

  “May I help you?” The saleslady reminded Cassie of a little bird. She had soft gray hair and bright eyes, which she turned interestedly on her sole customer.

  Cassie grabbed one of the watercolors at random. She handed it to the clerk and said breathlessly, “I’ll take this. And I want that little red boat that’s in the window.”

  “Certainly. Would you like the boat in a box?”

  “Yes,” Cassie said absently, drifting to the front window and looking down the street in the direction Luke had gone.

  “Here we go. Will that be cash or credit card?”

  Cassie went to the counter and handed over her card. While the lady completed the transaction, she went back and opened the door to look up and down the street.

  “Would you like to sign this?” The bird-lady’s voice was high with concern.

  Cassie came back in. “I wasn’t leaving. I thought I saw someone I knew go by. Just checking.”

  After signing the sales slip, she took her card and the plastic bag of merchandise and thanked the saleslady, who watched her intently as she walked quickly out the door and around the corner.

  It was only two blocks to Amy’s house, and Cassie reached it quickly, hoping that Amy was home. She had no desire to wait alone in a stranger’s house.

  Amy had been on the watch and opened the door before Cassie could knock, greeting her with a smile and a hug. “Thank you so much for coming!” She lead Cassie in and motioned for her to sit on the couch.

  “Where is Jerry?” Cassie asked.

  “He’s gone to the playground with Agnes. She’s one of the waitresses.” Sitting in the easy chair, Amy bent forward with her arms on her knees and her hands clasped, looking earnestly at Cassie. “I had this strong feeling . . . it was like I just had to talk to you, to tell you the truth.”

  Cassie frowned. “I don’t understand. Truth? About what?” She stirred uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, but we barely know one another. I don’t know that it’s appropriate that you confess anything to me.” Cassie reached for her purse and the plastic gift-shop bag and contemplated the door.

  “No, listen. It’s about my husband. Aaron said he was lost at sea.”

  At the mention of Aaron’s name, Cassie relaxed. Aaron was safe. Aaron was solid. Because of Aaron, she would listen to what Amy had to say. Putting down her purse and bag, Cassie sat back against the couch. “Okay. Go on.”

  “I think I had better begin from the beginning. Did you know I was once engaged to be married to Aaron Fletcher?”

  Cassie gaped at her. “Then you’re the one who helped him build the Red Swan!”

  Amy nodded. “That’s the way I got to know him. I’ll go back to the first.” Sitting back, she brushed a strand of blonde hair away from her pretty face. “I went to school in Bellingham. Western Washington University. In my senior year, I came over to St. Mary’s Island to do my student teaching. It was a small school, but I had an excellent master teacher, Mr. Fletcher. Aaron’s father. I don’t think it was just because we shared a common faith that he befriended me. He was such a good man that he would have done that for anyone.” Amy paused for a moment, remembering.

  “He was a widower,” she went on. “His wife had died earlier, when Aaron was just eighteen. Jared would have been eleven. They lived in Quarry Harbor in an old house on High Road. Aaron still lives there.”

  “What happened to his father?”

  “He had a stroke last spring. He’s in a nursing home in Shingle Bay, paralyzed on one side and unable to speak.” Amy’s eyes grew shiny, and she shook her head, smiling ruefully. “I’m sorry. I can’t think about it without tearing up. Excuse me.” Getting up, she walked to the kitchen table, grabbed a napkin out of the holder, and blew her nose.

  Cassie was unable to see where this was heading and why Amy was determined that she should hear the story, but she was interested, so she waited.

  Amy sat and cleared her throat. “So. Where was I?”

  “You were telling me about Aaron’s father, but you hadn’t yet told me how you met Aaron.”

  “Yes. Well, Mr. Fletcher, Father Fletcher as I now call him, asked another student teacher and me to come to Quarry Harbor for dinner. Aaron was there, and his dad took us down to see his project boat—what is now the Red Swan. He had the cabin on and was just beginning to work on the interior. He’s an excellent craftsman. They all are, Jared and Aaron and their father. They built a sailboat together when the boys were younger, and the boys practically lived on it in the summers. They named it Missionary Fund, and Father Fletcher always intended that it would be sold to pay for missions.”

  “Was it?” Cassie asked. “Sold for missions?”

  “It paid for Jared’s mission. Aaron didn’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I didn’t know him then. Maybe it’s because he’s not comfortable putting himself forward. He’s a good man. The best. But he doesn’t feel comfortable opening up about what he believes. He went to the firefighter’s academy instead. He’s worked on a fire boat in Seattle for as long as I’ve known him.”

  “But I saw him on a fishing boat. I thought he was a fisherman.”

  “He works for Brother Hanson—he spoke in church Sunday—when he has time off, but it’s a part-time thing. Jared worked as a fisherman all our married life.” She looked like she would say more, but didn’t.

  “So, you met Aaron when you were a student teacher,” Cassie prompted.

  “Yes. I was teasing him one day. I don’t know if you noticed, how he’s so quiet and solemn, but he has such a presence. He’s not the kind that fades into the woodwork. Anyway, I was attracted to him and trying to get him to notice me, I guess, and I offered to come help him, just for something to say. He took me up on it, and I started spending time with him. Lots of time.”

  Amy paused and looked out the window at the little harbor and the sea beyond.

  Cassie prompted again. “So, you became engaged?”

  Amy smiled. “Yes. I went back home for the summer, but I applied for an opening at St. Mary’s school and got accepted. I thought Aaron would never propose, but
finally he did.” She laughed. “He made a hash of it, but I didn’t care. We were going to honeymoon on the Red Swan.”

  “What happened?” Cassie asked.

  “Jared happened,” Amy said dryly. “He came home from his mission. He was everything that Aaron wasn’t. Everything.”

  “Like how?”

  “He was tall and fair-haired. Incredibly handsome. He was my age—Aaron is seven years older than I am, and all of a sudden he seemed too mature for me, because Jared was such fun.” She shook her head, is if it were an unwelcome memory. “The ring on my finger meant nothing to Jared. He wooed me. Brought me flowers, sent me valentines—I don’t know where he got them because it was November. I was very flattered and fell for him like a ton of bricks. We were married a month after he got home.”

  Cassie’s brows shot up. “A month!” Then she remembered her own precipitous marriage. “What did Aaron say?”

  “He said he understood. He loved Jared and always felt that his brother was the smartest, cleverest, most dedicated person in the world. He was proud that Jared had served a mission and felt that it was natural that I would prefer this handsome returned missionary to him.”

  Cassie’s throat tightened. “But he was hurt,” she said, and somehow she couldn’t bear it.

  “Yes. He was hurt so bad that he kind of disappeared. He didn’t leave the area, but he quit coming to church and made sure to be away from home when Jared and I went to see Father Fletcher. I didn’t see him for over a year. By that time, we had Jerry, and it was apparent to me that I had made a big mistake.”

  Amy looked at her watch. “I’ve been rambling too much. I’ve got to leave soon. What I found was that Jared didn’t really love me. What he loved was the competition. I was engaged to his brother, and he couldn’t rest until he had me. After that, there was no big attraction.”

  “Was he unfaithful to you?”

  “I don’t know. He was certainly away a lot. He would go out on boats that fished up in the Bering Sea. It’s dangerous work, but he loved danger, and the money was unbelievable. I guess it was. We didn’t see much of it as a family. If Aaron and Father Fletcher hadn’t watched out for us, Jerry and I would have starved. I found this house and my job at the restaurant long before I lost my husband.”