Compulsion

by Martina Boone

  “That’s probably my cue to go sit down so I can tell her what I want to eat,” Joe Goldstein said with a chuckle. “Sure hope I’ll be seeing you again.”

  “So there was something between your dad and Pru?” Barrie whispered to Eight as the man threaded his way out the door.

  “Must have been a long time ago.” Eight reached across to Barrie’s basket and stole a sweet potato fry.

  Barrie slapped his hand away. “Quit.”

  “Mine don’t taste as good as yours.” He grinned, not the least bit repentant. “Hey, did you know your face gets pink when you’re mad? Or embarrassed. Or confused . . .”

  “Just for that, keep your hands off my food.” Barrie slid her basket away from him, reached in for the Blue Dog, and took a bite. Sensory overload. “Oh, God. This has to be the best hot dog on the planet. Ever.”

  “It’s the mustard and the salt air. And the company, of course.”

  “Shame you have such a case of self-confidence deficit disorder.”

  “Sounds dangerous. You should give me a compliment immediately to boost my self-esteem.” Eight stole another fry, and frowned as the door opened and then banged closed behind a woman who stopped and scanned the room. “Heads up. Here we go again.”

  The woman who had come in was probably Pru’s age, with a cute bob of dark hair and a pretty figure shown off in clothes that, while still elegant and expensive, looked about a size too tight. Spotting Eight, she smiled and marched determinedly toward their table. She was breathing hard by the time she reached them.

  “No, no, don’t get up,” she said, clearly expecting they would. “Everyone is talking about how charming Lula’s little girl turned out, so I had to rush right over here to say hello.”

  Eight stole another fry from Barrie as he stood up. “Barrie, meet Julia Lyons. She and her husband own the big boat shop across the parking lot.”

  “You just call me Julia. I was a friend of your mama’s,” Julia added. “Her best friend. I miss her like crazy.”

  “It’s nice to meet people who knew her,” Barrie said.

  “Oh, honey. Everyone knew Lula.” Julia laughed. “It was always more a question of who Lula was willing to know.” Her eyes slid toward Cassie and rested there a moment before she gave a slight shake of her head. “I suppose the island always was too small for her. I shouldn’t have been surprised when she and Wade ran off.”

  “Were they that much in love?” Barrie couldn’t help asking.

  Julia stilled momentarily, then sat down on the bench across from Barrie. “I’ve asked myself that question a million times. I never heard about it, if she was. But if Emmett forbade her to see Wade, she might have convinced herself she was in love with the boy. You couldn’t ever tell Lula no.” Julia glanced at Barrie and then at Eight with her eyes brimming. “Sorry. I’ve spent all this time wondering if I could have done something different when she left. I cried myself to sleep for weeks. You take things hard at that age—your age, just about. I’ve gone over every moment of that summer so many times. I waited by the phone for her to call, and there was only the stupid letter.” She tried to smile, and couldn’t manage. “Now I find out she had a baby and didn’t tell me. At least it explains why she had to leave so fast. Emmett would have locked her away for the rest of her life if he’d found out she was pregnant.”

  “My birthday’s in September,” Barrie said. “So I couldn’t have been the reason she left. You said she sent a letter, though? She wrote to you?”

  “Not to me. She sent me an envelope to give to Pru and scrawled instructions on a Post-it for me to make sure Emmett didn’t see it.” Julia twirled her wedding ring around her finger.

  “Didn’t Pru tell you what it said?” Barrie asked.

  “She might have if I’d given it to her, but none of us could get past Emmett. He would tell me Pru wasn’t there whenever I called or stopped by, and she never seemed to leave Watson’s Landing unless he was with her. I kept waiting for a chance to slip it to her, but then we heard Lula was dead anyway. It seemed cruel to open old wounds.”

  Barrie leaned forward eagerly. “Do you still have it—the letter, I mean?”

  “I haven’t seen it in years, so maybe my husband threw it away. Or it got put somewhere. I don’t know.” Julia’s eyes dropped to her wedding ring, and she twisted it around her finger as if she wished it could make her invisible, like Frodo’s ring. “To be honest, the letter was the kind of thing I knew I shouldn’t throw away, but at the same time, it was too late to do anything with it.”

  “So you never opened it?”

  Julia shrugged, but her expression was vulnerable and almost pleading. “How could I?”

  How could she not? Barrie held back a growl of frustration. When the answers were right there and all you had to do was open an envelope and read them, why would you not want the answer?

  Julia’s chin was starting to tremble, and she had stopped twisting her ring in favor of pressing her hands tightly together on her lap. “Lula and I were best friends. Best friends. We did everything together. And then she left without a word. She didn’t even consider how I would feel. She left and then she died. It was impossible to think of Lula dead. She loved life so much.”

  Barrie wanted to reach across the table, take Julia’s hand, and tell her it would be all right. Of course, it wouldn’t be. It couldn’t be, because Lula was still dead. The conversation withered into an embarrassed silence.

  With a soft subject-changing sound in his throat, Eight got up and plucked his empty cup off the table to get a refill. “I saw Jack Sprague in front of the Wishy-Wash earlier, Miss Julia. Weren’t you wanting to get your oven fixed? You probably want to catch him before he heads back across the bridge?”

  Julia quickly rose. “Thank you for reminding me. Yes, I suppose I’d better go.” She smiled as Barrie stood up too. “I hope we can catch up more. Come anytime.”

  Barrie nodded, but Julia was already hurrying toward the door.

  Eight got the refill, came back, and dropped down beside her. “You haven’t even touched your drink.”

  “I haven’t exactly had a chance. And you should take up fortune-telling. How did you know about her oven?”

  “It’s Watson Island,” Eight said, as if that explained it. “You had about enough? Why don’t we get out of here?”

  “No, you can’t leave yet.” Cassie came up behind them. She lowered herself gracefully to sit on the bench between Barrie and the wall. “What did I miss, Cos? I swear, it’s been busier at this table than the kissing booth at the barbecue festival. Lord, I hate this place.” Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment she looked very different, not pretty at all. “You may as well get used to everyone getting into your business if you’re going to stick around. They think they own our families. Eight and I have lived here all our lives. We’re old news. Imagine what it’s going to be like for you with everyone watching to see what you do.”

  It was Barrie’s worst nightmare. “I’m not that interesting,” she said, staring hard at her congealing fries and cooling hot dog. “I’m sure they’ll get tired of me pretty fast.”

  “You don’t understand, do you? It doesn’t matter how boring you are. They’ll compare you to your mama, and her mama before that. They’ll judge you because you’re Emmett Watson’s granddaughter, and Thomas Watson’s great-great-great—who even cares how many greats—granddaughter. They’ll shake their heads about Lula and Uncle Wade running off together, but in the end they’ll forgive you because you’re a Watson. Just like they’ll blame me because I’m a Colesworth.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly, with almost no hint of bitterness. Barrie couldn’t help but like her. How could anyone not like Cassie?

  “Still, I’ll bet they’re wrong about you, aren’t they?” Cassie’s thick-lashed eyes narrowed in speculation. “You’re not just a Watson. You’re a Colesworth, too. I can feel it.” She gave Barrie another dazzling smile. “But listen to me going on and on when I should
be telling you how glad I am that you’re here! Isn’t it wonderful?” She threw her arms around Barrie and gave her a squeeze. “I can’t believe I have a brand-new cousin. It’s like Christmas in June. That’s it exactly—you’re my Christmas-present cousin. I just know we’re going to be best friends. I can’t wait for you to meet my sister, Sydney, and the rest of the family. Daddy hasn’t talked about anything else since he heard you were coming. He’s dying to hear all about you and what Lula told you about us—”

  “Lula didn’t tell her anything about anything,” Eight said. “She never heard of Watson’s Landing until her mama died.”

  Cassie drew back to frown at Barrie. “Nothing at all?”

  Something about Cassie’s intensity made Barrie nervous. She resisted the urge to slide down the bench to give herself a little more breathing room. “Lula never talked about my father or where she came from. After the fire I guess it was too painful to think about it.”

  “Didn’t you ever ask?” Cassie leaned over and took a couple of cold fries out of Barrie’s basket. She chewed on them thoughtfully while Barrie shook her head.

  Barrie wasn’t about to admit how many times she’d asked, or tried to ask, Lula questions. Lula had been Lula. She hadn’t talked about anything she hadn’t wanted to discuss.

  “Jesus,” Cassie said. “Imagine showing up here and getting all this dumped on you. You have to be curious, too, I’ll bet.” She smiled, her foot tapping as if she were thinking. “My daddy’s got loads of old photos back at the house. You should come over. Maybe after the play—” She glanced at Eight, and her mouth snapped closed.

  An awkward silence hung over the table. Barrie struggled to think of something to say, but she’d never been good at that.

  “I’m sorry.” Cassie touched Barrie’s shoulder, her face serious, her eyes big and wide. “This is exactly like me, jumping to conclusions. You may not even want to know anything about your daddy. San Francisco had to have been amazing. So much better than this suffocating town. Look at these gorgeous clothes . . . and your jewelry.” She plucked Barrie’s necklace off her shirt. “Are these Tiffany keys? They are, aren’t they?” Almost reverently her fingers ran over the three keys with their tiny diamonds set in delicate platinum settings. “Are they real?”

  Barrie barely resisted the urge to pull away.

  “Need a refill yet, Bear?” Eight reached between her and Cassie for Barrie’s Cherry Coke and shook the cup to see if it was empty. It wasn’t, but the gesture made Cassie drop the pendants.

  The way Cassie stared at the keys made Barrie want to tuck the necklace under her shirt or apologize for wearing it. She’d never thought about what the keys were worth. Not in terms of money. They’d been Lula’s gift to her for winning the state and national Scholastic art awards, one key for each of the three prizes, which had been the first time Lula had shown any interest in Barrie’s work. Barrie had given up pushing drawings under Lula’s door in kindergarten. She liked to think the keys had been Lula’s way of making up for that.

  Sadness swelled inside Barrie’s chest, filling her up until she thought that she would burst.

  “Come on, Bear. We’d better get you back.” Eight unfolded his legs and made the table wobble as he rose. “Your aunt will cut off my visiting privileges if I keep you out much longer.”

  “You don’t have to leave so soon, do you?” Cassie bit her lip. “My shift is almost over. I can run you home. Or wait”—she reached over and grabbed Barrie’s hands—“I’m meeting some folks at the Resurrection later. You could come. We can have dinner, and I can introduce you to a few of my friends. It’s my last free night until Monday. Please say yes! It’ll be so much fun!”

  Barrie stood up slowly. She should want to go with Cassie. But she didn’t.

  Eight shook his head at her as if he wanted to will her to say no. Why was he always telling her what to do? Meeting a few friends would be manageable. Cassie deserved at least that much. And the more people Barrie met before school started, the fewer stares she would have to face in the halls and cafeteria on the first day of class.

  Hadn’t she promised Mark she would have adventures? Put some wear on her shoes? She needed to push herself. “Thank you,” she said, “that sounds like fun.”

  Cassie gave her a quick, tight hug. “Great. I’ll pick you up at six.”

  “No need. I’m already coming back into town for dinner around then. I’ll drive her,” Eight said, with a smile that wasn’t as much a smile as the promise of impending argument.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was strange for Barrie to raise her voice, let alone to have a no-holds-barred fight with someone she had never even heard of twenty-four hours before. She and Eight argued all the way to Watson’s Landing in a way that reminded her of Mark and Lula’s fights. By the time they reached the small bridge over the creek, Barrie felt as though every word in her vocabulary had been wrung out of her body. She turned up the radio to drown Eight out. He had the bass turned too high again, and the beat pounded along with her headache. She stared out the open window.

  “Dinner with Cassie is a stupid idea. Dumb as a box of rocks.” Eight turned down the volume again. “Admit it. What if Wyatt shows up? Running into him before might have been an accident, but by dinnertime Cassie will have had time to tell him you’ll be with her at the Resurrection.”

  “Which is a restaurant. A place full of people. So, what is he going to do? Anyway, Cassie is great. She’s family. My family. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  “A sister—Kate. She’s sixteen. She’s at camp, or we would have brought her over. But you’ll meet her soon.”

  “You love her; I can tell by the way you said that just now. Do you see how lucky you are? I don’t have a sister or a brother. Cassie and Sydney are the closest things I’ll ever have to that—and Cassie is asking me to dinner in a public place, not hauling me off to a secret lair to be tortured by her minions. How am I supposed to say no? Anyway, you’re the one who thought it was a good idea to introduce us.”

  “To introduce you. Not to have you think you’re going to be best friends. Because trust me, that isn’t what she wants.”

  “And how do you know what Cassie wants, Commander Beaufort? You know what everyone wants—”

  “Don’t be an ass. You don’t understand—”

  “So tell me! What don’t I know?” Barrie turned to him and waited, but Eight set his jaw and stared out the windshield. She flounced back against the seat. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

  “I promised I wouldn’t say.”

  “Then it isn’t up to you to tell me what to do.”

  She was sick of people telling her what to do. She would have loved to tell Eight she didn’t need a ride either. But she didn’t know how to drive . . . and Pru wasn’t likely to take her to the Resurrection. Too bad she hadn’t thought faster and told Cassie to go ahead and pick her up. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe she could find Cassie’s number and call her.

  The gate stood wide open when they reached Watson’s Landing, and Eight drove straight through. Barrie hadn’t even realized how much tension had built up inside her, until it vanished in the dappled light beneath the Watson oaks. She wished they were at the house already so she could go curl up on her bed, but Eight slowed to a crawl behind a blue mini-van with New Jersey license plates. He practically kissed its bumper. Which was Eight’s problem right there. He was pushy.

  “Back off a little, can’t you?”

  “They’re going ten miles an hour.” He flicked her a maddeningly good-natured look.

  “They’re probably looking around. That’s kind of the point.”

  The family in the minivan weren’t the only ones doing that. Closer to the house a young mother was trying to corral a pair of toddlers who were chasing the two peahens that had wandered too close to the family picnic. A white-haired man and his pink-skinned wife leaned on each other as they hobbled away from the parking area toward the tearoom.


  Apart from the tourists, the scene gave Barrie a lurching sense of déjà vu. Pru’s ancient car stood in the same place as when Barrie had first arrived. It looked forlorn without its peacock hood ornament. Pru was out front again, too, teetering on a ladder, trying to fix the fallen shutter. Barrie ran to hold the ladder as soon as Eight slid the car to a stop. Even so, he somehow managed to get there first. What was it with him?

  “Here, Miss Pru,” he said. “Switch places with me.”

  Not, Can I do that for you? Just Switch places with me. Pushy.

  “He has no business telling you what to do,” Barrie said, loud enough for him to hear.

  “What? I was hoping he would offer.” Pru handed down the shutter and followed after it to trade places with Eight. “What’s wrong, sugar? Didn’t you have a good time in town?”

  “I met my cousin. Cassie.” Barrie injected extra enthusiasm into her voice. “She was great. Fantastic. But I barely got a chance to talk to her, so I’m going to have dinner with her tonight to meet some of her friends. As long as you don’t have any special plans, I mean.” Barrie peeked at Pru from beneath her lashes, hoping she wouldn’t see refusal. Or rage. “It’s okay, isn’t it? Please say yes. I’d really like to go, and I promise I’ll get up early tomorrow morning to help around here. I know I’ve been useless so far.”

  “I don’t need your help. That’s one problem you don’t have to worry about.” Pru handed the shutter up to Eight. “Having dinner with your cousin, though—”

  “She couldn’t have been nicer! Honestly. Eight said there are . . . well, issues . . . between the families, but I have to go to school with her.”

  Pru glared at Eight. “I told you. I told you, and your father told you. But you didn’t listen.”

  “Hey, don’t look at me.” Eight shrugged and frowned at Barrie. “I tried to talk her out of dinner. Good luck talking her out of anything she thinks she ought to do.”

  Barrie refused to let him draw her back into the argument. She was already mad at herself for allowing him to spook her about Cassie. Not to mention Wyatt, who had probably seen her with Eight and wanted to introduce himself. Eight was the one who had driven off like a crazy person. No wonder Wyatt hadn’t known what to do once they’d reached the beach. Or maybe it hadn’t been Cassie’s father at the beach at all.