The Inn at Ocean's Edge

by Colleen Coble

  Her breathing grew easier. “I’m sure of it, Dad. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

  The doorman pulled open the door, and her father disappeared into the bowels of the hotel. The salt-laden air cleared the panic, and she turned to walk down the cliff steps to the waiting sand. The sea would calm her.

  Seagulls squawked overhead in a blue sky dotted with puffs of clouds. The wind tugged Luke Rocco’s hair and threatened to rip the ball cap from his head as he guided his boat toward Sunset Cove on the south side of the island. He never tired of this view. Though Folly Shoals was just one of about three thousand islands off the coast of Maine, it was a place apart from any other. The grandeur of the sea cliffs, soaring to just under a hundred feet in all their pink-granite glory, always made him feel small and insignificant. Magnificent pines and slender aspen vied for purchase in the rich soil, and wildflowers bloomed in the thin soil.

  The engine belched oil and gas fumes that mingled with the scent of the sea, and his boat rose and fell on the waves. His breath plumed out in the chilly air as the sun began its descent over the peninsula. He should have worn jeans instead of shorts today, but the jacket helped. He squinted at his sister. Dressed in white shorts covered with a red sweatshirt, Megan huddled under the Bimini top, which did little to protect her from the cold wind.

  He grinned at her. “Smile. At least we got enough fish for supper.”

  “It’s not that.” Her thoughtful gaze met his. “I have something to tell you, and I don’t know how.”

  “You’re getting married.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Get real. You’ve been home three days and haven’t seen a boyfriend hanging around, have you?”

  Her tone wiped the grin from his face. “You look scared, Meg. You can tell me anything. I won’t bite your head off. Does the farm need money? We’re about to go broke?” Part of him almost wanted it to happen. Maybe it would wake up the drunken old man back at the house. He’d never been the same since Mom disappeared.

  She shook her head. “I think we’re turning a profit this year. The cranberry yield looks to be stellar.”

  “Then what is it?”

  The wind tore a strand of hair loose from her ponytail and whipped it into her face. She pushed it out of her eyes. “I got another job offer. It’s in Oregon.” She rushed on as if she had to spill it all before he interrupted her. “There’s a new research facility that’s just opened. They’re studying viruses and mutations.”

  His gut tightened, but he managed to smile and nod. “You loved that in college.”

  Her dark eyes studied him as if to gauge his reaction. “And I’d finally be using that expensive Vassar education.”

  “It wasn’t expensive. You went on scholarship.”

  She shrugged as she huddled in her red sweatshirt. “You know what I mean. The diploma is worth a lot, and I haven’t used it.”

  “You’ve used your study of cranberry farming to help the cranberry bogs. That’s why we’re turning a profit this year.” Shut up, Luke. She wasn’t fishing for a compliment. She wanted to leave Folly Shoals. And how could he blame her for doing what he’d done three years ago? He’d gone to school in Ellsworth and helped with the cranberries, but when she’d come home from Vassar, he’d been only too ready to let her shoulder the full burden while he joined the Coast Guard.

  She fell silent a moment, and he took the opportunity to analyze the objections rising to his lips. Pop’s recent stroke would prevent him from helping out much. If Megan left, someone would have to pick up the slack. That someone could only be Luke. The thought of dealing with his father soured his mood. Meg had done it, though. It wasn’t fair to expect her to do it forever.

  “I see the wheels turning,” Megan said. “I know what this means if I leave. I should turn it down.”

  Her woebegone face made him sit up straighter. “You’ve buried yourself on this island all your life, Meg. It’s your turn to fly. I’m not going to stand in your way. Maybe I can plead hardship to the Coast Guard and get a transfer up here. There’s a facility out on Southwest Harbor.”

  Her brown eyes widened. “But could you do both the bogs and your job? At harvest, it’s downright crazy.”

  “I can try, and maybe we can afford to hire some extra help.” He put more confidence into his voice than he felt, but he couldn’t let her sacrifice what she really wanted. “If I’d known you weren’t happy here, I would have pushed you out of the nest sooner. I thought you loved the bogs and wanted to stay here.”

  She looked down at her hands, the knuckles reddened from the cold. “I used to. But Pop’s gotten even more . . . difficult.”

  Something in her tone brought him up short. “He hasn’t hit you again, has he? I thought he stopped that after I threatened him when I was eighteen.”

  He’d gotten in their father’s face and threatened to call the sheriff if he ever lifted a hand to Meg again. Their dad had taken one look at Luke’s face and stepped back. As far as Luke knew, he hadn’t dared to raise his hand to her since then.

  “It’s just been since his stroke. He doesn’t mean anything by it. The stroke has left him with a short fuse. He’s always sorry after. And he’s never even left a bruise.”

  Luke’s fingers curled into his palms. If his dad were here, he wasn’t sure he could hold himself back. “I’ll talk with him.”

  Pop had always been difficult, especially when he drank too much. Luke had many memories of nights when he and Megan hid in the closet while Pop raged around the house looking for them.

  “There’s no need.” Meg’s eyes held an appeal for understanding. “That’s not the real reason I want to go. I can handle a grumpy old man. It’s just I’m stagnating here. I’m twenty-eight, and I’ve never been anywhere except to college. If I stay here any longer, I’ll never leave.”

  He nodded and steered the boat toward the slip. “When would you start?”

  “In a month. You’ll really help me do this?”

  “I want you to be happy. I’ll figure it out. That’s what big brothers are for.”

  Her hand swept over the rocky coastline in the direction of their house. “You don’t even like cranberries. You were made for the Coast Guard. You thrive on the challenge. And I know perfectly well what’s going to happen. You won’t reenlist, will you? Even though it’s what you’ve wanted to do your whole life.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do whatever has to be done. I can’t let the business just dissolve. It’s been in our family for seventy-five years.”

  She rose on long, tanned legs and leaned against the side of the boat. “And what if he dies? He’s been so weak since the stroke. What if you give up your entire life for something that only matters to him?”

  His pulse stuttered. “Are you saying you want us to sell the bogs?”

  She raked her hand through her short hair, as thick, straight, and black as his. “I want both of us to think long and hard about what’s best. Maybe it’s time we quit catering to Pop and do what we really want to do.”

  How had he missed her discontent? And the thought of selling the family cranberry farm didn’t settle well with him.

  “Let me see what I can do about a transfer, then we’ll talk. But no matter what, let them know you’re taking the job.”

  She thrust her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt. “So now you want to get rid of me and I’m useless, is that it?”

  Her voice held no rancor so he just grinned. “Something like that. Your son may love working the land. Or my daughter.” Not that he was likely to get married. But the thought of working the bogs unsettled him. He still believed their mom was buried somewhere out there.

  Megan reached for the thermos of coffee. “You’re thinking about Mom’s disappearance, aren’t you? Her body’s not out there, and believe me, I’ve looked.”

  She always could read him. “She has to be somewhere, Meg.”

  “She’s been gone twenty-five years! We’ll never find her remains, not up here.
It’s too remote. Whatever happened to her will remain a mystery.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. But I sure wish we knew what happened.” He took a swig of hot coffee. “Ready to head in?”

  She nodded.

  “Take the helm a minute. I’ll get the ropes ready.”

  She moved to take his place, and he went toward the starboard side. Something floated in the water about eight feet away, and he squinted, trying to make out the markings. “That’s a baby orca. Cut the engine.”

  When Megan complied, he grabbed a paddle and maneuvered closer to the killer whale. The calf lolled listlessly in the water, turning an eye toward him as if asking for help. “It’s sick. Skinny too.” He scanned the water. “But where’s its mother?”

  They both studied the horizon and saw nothing. No pod, no mother.

  “What if its mother died?” Megan joined him. “We have to help it. We can’t just leave it out here to suffer.”

  “We could put up a sea pen until we can contact an orca rescue organization. I’ve got some extra netting in the hold.”

  “But how will you get it to shore? Netting it might kill it.”

  He shucked off his jacket and shoes. “I’ll tow it in.”

  She grabbed his arm. “Are you kidding? We’re five hundred yards from shore, and the water is freezing!”

  “I’ve got this. Just take the boat to our dock. There’s already a partial pen along the north and east sides. We’ll just have to close the pen on the south.”

  Megan nodded and went back to the helm. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” He stepped to the back of the boat and leaped overboard. The cold water took his breath away, and he gasped when his head broke the surface. He waved to show his sister he was fine, then struck off toward the distressed calf. The marine mammal rolled when he touched it, but it was still alive. The skin felt like a warm inner tube, and he caressed it reassuringly. “You’re going to be okay, buddy.” He hoped it was the truth. This animal was in serious need of attention.

  He grasped the orca’s dorsal fin and began to tow it toward the sea pen. The calf fluttered its fluke and tried to help, but it was so weak, their progress was slow. His muscles burned, and the cold water quickly fatigued him. By the time he reached the dock, his chest was tight, and he was eager to get out of the water.

  Megan had already attached one end of the net and was swimming to meet him. He’d never been so glad to see anyone.

  TWO

  Pink-granite stones led down a hundred-foot cliff to rocks below, and Claire took them. When she reached the sea, the brisk, fresh air cleared her head. The gulls squawking overhead soothed her. The tightness in her chest was nearly gone, and she felt almost normal. She grimaced as she tossed a pebble into the gentle waves rolling to shore.

  It had been a momentary weakness there in the lobby, nothing like her mother’s constant histrionics. Claire had just been working too hard, and thoughts of this merger’s importance had kept her tossing and turning until after midnight last night. It was nothing.

  She leaned down and slipped off her heels, then sank her toes into the sand mixed with small stones. With her shoes dangling from one hand, she wandered down the long strip of rocky coastline. A feeling of contentment surrounded her, like she’d somehow found a piece of herself here. All her life the sea had seemed to fulfill some missing part of her, some innate need she couldn’t name.

  A shout caught her attention, and she squinted in the strong afternoon sunlight toward a small inlet. A man and a woman seemed to be securing fishing line or rope on a metal ring attached to a small pier where a fishing boat was docked. They were both wet.

  Did they need help? Claire started toward them, but she saw a form in the water and stopped. She first thought it was a dolphin, then she recognized the distinctive black-and-white markings.

  She pressed her lips together and rushed to intercept them before they could board the boat again, her bare feet slapping the cool, damp wooden pier. “You there! What do you think you’re doing with this orca? You can’t keep it penned up.”

  When the man turned to stare at her, her first impression was of impossibly dark eyes that seemed to look right into her soul. He would have been right at home on the cover of a pirate romance. He looked Italian with his thick dark hair and eyes and was probably close to thirty. His white shorts contrasted with his tanned, muscular legs. Water pooled at his bare feet.

  His gaze swept over her, and she flushed when she realized how she must look in her slim-fitting blue sheath dress and bare feet. The wind had seriously destroyed her controlled updo.

  She pushed an errant lock out of her eyes and scowled at him. “Orcas should never be penned up. This one probably has a matriline and a bigger pod out there missing it.”

  He raised a black brow. “Not many people have ever even heard the word matriline. You some kind of orca activist, or do you just like to show off your education?”

  “I volunteer with an orca rescue organization.” She tipped her chin up at his derisive tone. “Locking up these beautiful creatures is like imprisoning a baby. I suppose you thought to make a lot of money by selling it to an aquarium.”

  He tugged on the zipper of his blue sweatshirt. “You don’t know me, lady. And this is none of your business.”

  The woman with him stepped between them. She had the man’s dark good looks, but she wore a placating smile. “Hi, I’m Megan Rocco. And my brother, Luke, is not usually this hotheaded. We’re not harming the orca. He’s injured, and I’m not even sure we can save him. I think his mother must have died. He’s starving. We’re putting him here for his own good until we can contact an orca rescue organization.”

  Claire went hot at her assumptions. What had gotten into her today? First experiencing a panic attack and then jumping to unwarranted conclusions. She gulped, then glanced past Megan to Luke as she tried to gather enough courage to apologize. She eyed him and his sister. His sweatshirt had a Coast Guard emblem. His sister’s bore a dive shop logo.

  Claire looked down at her bare feet and bit her lip before staring back into those dark, dark eyes. “I think I owe you both an apology.”

  “You think?” He lifted a brow, then turned toward the boat.

  A small wave slapped the edge of the pier and dampened her feet. She edged closer to the center. “I’m sorry. Truly. I have a bit of a thing for dolphins and whales, always have. You’d be surprised how many people think there’s nothing wrong with captive orcas. They’re one of the few mammals who have an actual family unit like ours.”

  He didn’t look at her. “You’re preaching to the choir, lady.”

  “Can I make it up to you and help you with him? You won’t have to call anyone else. I know what to do.”

  He finally looked her way and seemed to take her measure before he finally nodded. “I’m just going to fatten him up and then let him loose. But you can help before you go back to your froufrou coffee and high-powered dinners.”

  Her face burned at his accurate assessment of her financial status. “Look, we got off to a bad start. I haven’t even introduced myself.” She held out her hand. “I’m Claire Dellamare.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Harry Dellamare’s daughter?”

  “You know my dad?”

  He exchanged a glance with his sister. “I know of him. Never met him, though. I was a kid when he was here last. And when you were found.”

  She rubbed her forehead where it pulsed with pain. “Found? What do you mean?”

  “You know, back in ’90. After you’d been missing a year out there in the forest.” He swept his hand up at the thick forest marching along the top of the cliff. Then a look passed between Luke and his sister before he returned his attention to Claire. “Did you ever remember where you were that year? Did you happen to see a woman the night you wandered off?”

  “Luke, enough,” Megan said.

  The blood drained from Claire’s head, and her legs went weak.


  “Claire, are you all right?”

  She barely heard Megan’s anxious voice through the roaring in her ears. Something lingered on the edge of her memory, but she couldn’t grasp it. Her vision darkened, and she took a step back. She teetered on the edge of the pier.

  “Look out!” Luke’s shadowy figure moved toward her.

  She reached out for some kind of support but missed her footing. The rough wood cut the side of her foot as she went over the edge. The shock of the cold water cleared her head, and she shot to the surface sputtering. Something bumped into her side, and she saw the orca floating nearby as if to help her. She touched its pectoral flipper, then grabbed hold. There was a splash to her left, then Luke told her to be calm, that he was coming.

  But the baby orca was squeaking and nudging her, helping her forget the visions of trees leering at her, of rocks bruising her feet. She ducked her head into the cold water and let it scoop the strands of hair away from her face even as she emptied her mind of the terrifying images.

  Luke grasped her arm. “Need some help to shore?”

  She shook her head. “I’m okay.”

  “I’d say. You’re a dolphin yourself.”

  He grinned as she released the calf and struck off toward the pier with a butterfly stroke. She wasn’t eager to get out of the water, but she had to talk to her father. No wonder he’d been upset when she arrived.

  She’d been here before. Lost. And her parents had never told her.

  Why hadn’t her parents ever talked about it? 1990. She’d been five when she was found. If she’d been missing a year, that meant she was four when she got lost. And she had no memory of any of it. How was that possible?

  Though Luke had draped her with a dry jacket smelling of the sea, Claire shivered in the cool breeze blowing off the water. A gull hopped closer, tipping its head to one side and surveying her with curiosity. The questions hammered in her head, and she knew how Alice felt when she fell into the rabbit hole. Everything was different now, and she didn’t know how to process this sudden shift in reality.