Peering through the glass of the back door, she saw her mother talking with Kathleen, who was sitting at the kitchen table, laughing at something, with Minnow curled up on her lap. It was the first time Molly had heard her laugh. It was as if she were watching a completely different person. Molly stood there for a long time, trying to figure Kathleen out. She had come back here, apparently for good, after years and years of being away, not even returning to see her aging grandmother. She didn’t seem to know the first thing about living on the island, which Molly found frustrating. She was going to get herself into trouble and need help, and yet, Molly had been driving by the Halloran cottage more often than she needed to, wondering if she should stop in to see if everything was okay.
This laughing Kathleen was so at odds with the image Molly still had of her as wounded somehow. She’d seen her other mornings, walking the beach while Molly was rowing. In fact she’d started looking for her… It really was annoying.
She opened the back door, just barely hanging on as the wind gusted through. She had to lean a bit to close it.
“Storm’s almost here,” she said by way of greeting.
“Hello.” Kathleen stood, forcing the cat to jump down. “I brought your mother’s soup pot back.”
Jenny pointed at the table. “And she brought some cookies. An old recipe I remember Maisie making. You should try one.”
“Later.” Molly peeled off her jacket and hung it up. “Dad should be finishing down the marina. Any word from the boys?”
Jenny nodded toward the radio sitting on the counter. “They’re putting in now.”
“Just in time.”
“I should go,” Kathleen said.
“Nonsense,” Jenny said. She poured another cup of coffee and set it on the table. “Molly, sit down, have a cookie. Dinner’s all made. Just waiting on the guys.”
Reluctantly, Molly pulled out a chair and sat. An awkward silence filled the space between her and Kathleen. Minnow meowed and jumped into Molly’s lap, sniffing at the cookies on the table.
“Things okay at the cottage? Your furnace is working?” Molly asked to fill the void.
“Yes. Thanks so much for that. By the way, I haven’t paid your father yet. I went by the marina, but no one was there.”
“Dad comes and goes. You’ll catch him at some point.”
Molly waved a dismissive hand, but Kathleen said, “No. I need to pay him. That’s your business. Speaking of which, how do you bank here?”
“What do you mean?” Jenny asked, joining them at the table.
“I have a checking account and a debit card, but I’m almost out of the cash I brought with me. Where’s the nearest bank?”
Jenny laughed. “We forget how strange it must seem to an offlander who’s not used to island life. Miranda and Tim can handle anything small. They send their deposits and checks with my brother, Bobby, when he comes on the ferry, and he brings cash back to us.”
“That seems very trusting,” Kathleen said.
Molly and her mom exchanged a puzzled glance.
“Why wouldn’t we trust one another?” Jenny asked.
Kathleen didn’t reply as she took a gulp of coffee. “So I can start paying with a check at the market?”
Molly nodded. “Yeah. There’s a bank on Big Sister, if you need anything done in between ferry runs. Someone can always take you over.”
“By boat.”
“Yes,” Molly said slowly. “That’s kind of how we do things on an island.”
Kathleen flushed a blotchy pink from her neck up to her cheeks. “Thanks. Good to know.”
A heavy stomping of feet on the back porch made all three of them turn as the back door opened again, and her father and the boys entered.
“Get in here,” Jenny said, immediately jumping up to start dishing dinner out.
“It’s going to blow up big tonight,” said Joe. He glanced at the table and did a double take. “You’re Maisie’s granddaughter.”
Kathleen stood to shake his hand. “Kathleen. Nice to see you, Mr. Cooper.”
“I’m Joe. This,” he said, turning to the others, “is Joey, Matty, and Aidan.”
Kathleen shook hands with each of them, but Molly saw the tension in their faces as the others pointedly didn’t look at Aidan.
“I remember you,” Kathleen said to them. She held to Aidan’s hand for just a few extra seconds before he pulled away, wiping his hand on his jeans.
Molly nearly jumped between them, but Aidan cleared his throat and said, “I have to go get cleaned up. I’ll eat later, Mom.”
“And I really need to get going,” Kathleen said. “It was nice to see you all again.”
Molly followed Kathleen out into the gathering darkness. She grabbed one of the tattered umbrellas stuck in an old concrete planter on the porch.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
She sheltered Kathleen with the umbrella, walking close enough that their arms brushed. It was funny, how she kept thinking of Kathleen as small, but she was only an inch or two shorter than Molly’s five-eight. She reached her free arm out and almost wrapped it around Kathleen’s shoulders before catching herself and pulling back.
“If you haven’t refilled Maisie’s oil lamps, you’ll want to do that.” Molly held the umbrella a bit higher as Kathleen opened her door. “We almost always lose power in bad storms. It’s not usually out for long, but you’ll have to get used to it.”
“Thanks.”
Kathleen paused, standing close under the umbrella, looking into Molly’s eyes. “Aidan was the one…”
Molly stepped away so that rain pelted her exposed back. “You should get back before this gets worse.”
Kathleen got in and closed the door. She stared through the window at Molly as she turned the ignition. Putting the car in reverse, she backed around and drove off.
Molly stood there, the rain running in a steady stream off the edges of the umbrella as she watched the taillights disappear into the darkness. Upstairs, the light glowed in Aidan’s dormer window.
She jogged to the back porch and flapped the umbrella before jamming it into the planter with the others. At least he was home, and she wouldn’t have to go out in this mess to pick his sorry ass up after he got drunk.
AS PROMISED, THE STORM was fierce. The rain slashed in waves with the gusting winds. Kathleen crouched on the back porch, one hand shielding her eyes as she searched the darkness behind the cottage.
“Blossom! Blossom, come.” She shook a bowl of the dog food she’d picked up at the market. She had no idea if the dog had ever had actual dog food. When there was no sign of movement, she set the bowl down and went back inside.
She searched the pantry and found Nanna’s three oil lamps, filled and ready. Apparently, her grandmother knew what the other islanders knew. She got the lamps out and, just as she was fiddling with the wicks, the power went out. She fumbled with a match but got the lamps lit, turning the metal dial to adjust the height of the wicks on all three. She had already taken the precaution of powering off and unplugging all of her computers and monitors, not willing to trust her work to a surge protector.
She left one lamp burning on the kitchen table and carried the other two out to the living room where she snuggled into the overstuffed chair, sitting sideways with her legs drawn up and a blanket on her lap as she listened to the wind whistling around the house, drowning out any sounds from the ocean waves she knew must be battering the island’s rocky cliffs and little beach.
Drowning.
She gave an involuntary shudder as she stared into the blue-gold flame of one of the lamps. She didn’t really remember what Aidan looked like and wouldn’t have recognized him, but he clearly knew who she was. It had turned into a night very like this one—the storm blowing up out of nowhere it had seemed; Nanna sending her out to bring Bryan home; the gradual realization when she couldn’t find him that he and Aidan had both gone out in their boats to race; darkness falling before Aidan made it back wi
th the searchers, but no Bryan…
Kathleen wiped the wetness from her cheeks.
Molly and her brothers took after their dad, dark-complexioned with black hair, but only Molly had those curious eyes. She wasn’t beautiful or even pretty. Not in the usual sense, but she was… striking, Kathleen decided. High cheekbones, strong features. Must be the First Ones blood in their family. If she hadn’t been told Rebecca was Jenny’s sister, she would have guessed she was Joe’s sibling. Jenny looked to have more Irish or mixed blood, with her lighter skin, blue eyes, and honey-brown hair.
Kathleen chewed absently on a fingernail. Molly was a puzzle. Sometimes she was downright hostile, challenging Kathleen’s right to be on the island and then other times, she was kind, like tonight, walking her out to her car, sheltering her with the umbrella. For just a moment, Kathleen had had the crazy urge to burrow in against Molly’s side, seeking her warmth.
But she’d done exactly that with Susannah—reaching out and clinging tightly. Too tightly, she thought now. I won’t be that gullible again.
A scratching sound from the kitchen roused her from her thoughts. She went in, listening. There it was again. Peering through the glass on the back door, she saw Blossom, wet and bedraggled, nosing at the empty food bowl, scooting it across the porch boards.
When she opened the back door, the dog bolted.
“Blossom,” she called quietly. “Come here. Come here, you silly dog.”
She got another handful of food and dropped some on the porch floor, leaving a trail as she backed toward the kitchen. She retrieved an old towel from the cupboard above the washer and sat on the floor, waiting. It took a few minutes, but Blossom crept onto the porch, his pink tongue reaching out to pluck up the kibble, his wary eyes on her. He hesitated at the threshold, but she waited, not facing him directly. He belly crawled inside, still following the trail of food until he was close enough to touch. Just as Kathleen reached out to drape the towel over him, he shook, showering her and everything else in water droplets. She flung the towel over him and pushed the door shut with her foot. He crouched, his ears flat against his head, trembling.
It broke her heart to see him so frightened. “I will never hurt you,” she murmured.
She kept talking in a low voice, reaching out to rub him with the towel. Slowly, he stopped trembling and began to look around curiously. She got up and went to the sink. He followed, the towel still draped over him like a horse blanket.
“You can explore,” she said, setting a bowl of water down on the floor. “Just don’t pee anywhere.”
He lapped up a bit of water and began to sniff every surface—floor, cupboards, table.
She went back to her chair in the living room. A few minutes later, Blossom was lying next to her, still draped in his towel, with his head resting on her foot and his eyes closed.
Smiling, she said, “Looks as if we’re going to be housemates.”
WITH A HARSH SCRAPE, Molly’s scull slid over the skim of ice coating the wet sand. Her breath puffed from her mouth in steamy clouds, but she was warm. She sat for a moment, taking a drink from a water bottle as she let her breathing slow. The sun was peeking out from behind a heavy cloudbank to the southeast. Might be the last row of the season, she thought. She squinted at the sky. Smelled like snow. Probably wouldn’t be a big one, but still, made it hard to get in freezing ocean water.
She stood up and dragged the scull farther onto the beach. She was glad the strip of sand was empty. She wasn’t in the mood to see Kathleen this morning, not after getting a call at two a.m. from Patrick Flaherty that Aidan had just left the pub and was stumbling toward his truck, having refused all offers of a ride home from Patrick.
She grunted a little as she hoisted the scull onto her roof rack and secured it.
It made her even angrier that she could no longer really muster up any resentment toward Kathleen. Aidan’s problem was his. Just because the trigger was named Kathleen didn’t make it her fault.
She got into the 4-Runner, tossing her knit hat and gloves onto the passenger seat as she let the engine warm. What was it about Kathleen that made Molly want to hold her and protect her? It was crazy. And what was with the dog she’d seen tagging along with her the last couple of mornings? So now, she was living here and had a dog. Damn.
She put the truck in gear and drove home to store the scull on its rack in the garage she and her brothers had converted into a gym, with a heavy bag, weight bench, Olympic bars, and dumbbell rack. And an indoor rower. She dusted it off, figuring it was now indoor time for the next few months.
She climbed the stairs into the kitchen where she was surprised to see Aidan sitting at the table, cradling his head, still in the same rumpled clothes he’d been wearing when she dumped him onto his bed.
She didn’t speak to him, just went to the kitchen sink to rinse the sweat off her face.
“Don’t say anything,” he grumbled.
She pulled a towel from a kitchen drawer and pressed it to her face. Ignoring him, she poured herself a cup of coffee and stood leaning against the counter, sipping it and letting the warmth trickle down to her stomach.
When she didn’t speak, he lifted his head enough to fix her with one bloodshot eye.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he demanded.
She poured another cup of coffee and plunked it down in front of him as she joined him at the table. He winced at the sound.
“What do you want me to say?”
He scrubbed his hands over his face, his rough palms scratching over the dark stubble on his jaw. “You can tell me what a dumb shit I am.”
“You are.”
He glared at her. “You can tell me I owe you again for coming to haul my ass home.”
“You do.”
He lowered his hands. “You could tell me why you keep doing it.”
Molly stared into his eyes. What she saw reflected in them hit her like a gut punch. She tore her gaze away and frowned at her coffee.
“I wish I could take it away, Aidan,” she said softly. “I wish I could turn back time and undo what happened.” She sat back. “I blamed Kathleen when she first came here. I don’t anymore.”
He scoffed. “You blame me.”
She leaned forward and gripped his wrist. “I don’t blame anyone. That’s the difference. I don’t blame you or Bryan Halloran or God or the weather or anything else. It was terrible, but it was an accident. You want someone to punch it out with. There is no one to blame so you keep punching yourself.” She released her grip. “But until you believe that…”
Matty shuffled into the kitchen, yawning loudly. “Oh, good, you’re already up.”
He poured another cup of coffee and got down a box of Shredded Wheat. “I want to finish up early at the marina today. Got a date with Brandi, that hot waitress at the Lobster Pot on Big Sister.”
He grinned as he plopped himself down at the table with his coffee and cereal. “With any luck, I won’t be back tonight.”
Molly caught Aidan’s eye while Matty jabbered on, oblivious to anything but his impending night out. Aidan gave her a small nod and pushed up from the table to get changed for work.
BLOSSOM SNORED SOFTLY FROM his new bed near the fireplace. To Kathleen’s relief and delight, he hadn’t messed once in the house. He’d let her bathe him in the big tub, though she had ended up as wet as he was. With the dirt washed off him, she realized he actually had white hairs marled into his coat, including a white tip to his tail that waved like a flag when he wagged it. His ribs weren’t quite as prominent with regular feeding.
The first few times she’d let him out to do his business, only to watch him disappear into the woods, she’d been certain that was that—she’d only catch glimpses of him around the island from that point on. But after a half hour’s romp, he’d scratched gently at the back door, trotting inside when she opened it for him and settling with his head resting on her foot. He was always either touching her or lying where he could see her
. He accompanied her everywhere—on her walks, into town, shopping at the market—where Miranda gave him too many dog treats.
“Well, I don’t suppose he’s had many of these,” Miranda said, scratching him under the chin after he delicately accepted the biscuit. “He must have stowed away on a boat or the ferry.” She held the baby who gurgled and reached for Blossom’s ear with his chubby fingers.
“How do I get him to a vet for a checkup?”
“Oh, there’s a vet on Big Sister,” Miranda said. “Anyone can take you over.”
When Kathleen had seen the dog bed—the only one in the market—she’d bought it. At first, Blossom hadn’t been too sure of what it was for. He nosed it, pushing it around, but the first time he crawled into it and lay down, his unabashed joy made her laugh. He rolled on his back, feet kicking in the air as he wriggled and rubbed. At night, she carried the bed upstairs to her room so he could be near her.
His snores blended with the soft music that played on her computer—Irish pipes, mournful and breathy, suiting the book cover she was designing. She sat back, chewing on a fingernail as she studied the proof.
“Wrong font,” she muttered aloud.
She kept working, trying to find just the right font to match the image. Editing was steady income, and she was good at it, but it involved polishing someone else’s work, oftentimes arguing with a stubborn author who thought his every word was golden and shouldn’t be messed with. But cover work, this was her opportunity to create something of her own from nothing more than a nebulous idea. It was nice to see books she’d edited do well in terms of sales or awards and to know she played a part in that, but when her covers won awards, that really floated her boat.
She sat back, thinking of boats. She’d seen Molly out in hers when she was walking most mornings. She knew people in Philly who sailed, others who enjoyed powerboats, but until she got on the ferry to come here, she’d never been back on a boat since that summer. Watching Molly’s strong pulls on the oars, the way she skimmed over the water, rising and falling with the swells, it had awakened her curiosity. That was the same kind of rowboat—she knew it wasn’t technically a rowboat, but she couldn’t remember what they called it—Bryan and Aidan had been racing. They’d only found splintered pieces of Bryan’s… and then a day later, his body.
When the Stars Sang Page 6