Purling Road - The Complete First Season: Episodes 1-10

by M. L. Gardner

  “How did he die?” Scottie asked.

  Mustering all of her courage, her voice softened as she remembered. “There was a riling up between the Catholics and Protestants. Both sides were in the street, throwing things, screamin’ at each other and carrying on. It happened regular enough that we were used to that sort of thing. It usually settled down with everyone grumblin’ and cursin’, wanderin’ home or off to the pub. But this night tempers flared hotter than normal. The fist waving turned to pushing and shoving. Patrick got caught up in it. Not in the fighting, but trying to stop it…trying to settle the crowd. They wouldn’t listen. He was knocked to the ground and trampled.”

  She stopped, sniffled and blinked a few times. “He was alive when they carried him home, but there was nothing we could do. He’d been injured too badly and died in my arms later that night.”

  That was all she could say at the moment. Her eyes were brimming with tears when they looked to Ian, begging him to take over.

  “I didn’t know him personally, Scottie, but I knew of him. There was nothing but good anyone could say about him. A peacemaker, he was. Hated fighting and yelling.”

  Maura, with her head tilted and her eyes in some far off place, laughed softly. “He said that was why I needed him, early on, before he proposed. Because I was always findin’ fights and he was always ending them.”

  Though it was an awkward moment to do so, Ian pushed the small package across the table. “I bought ye some candy today,” he said with a faltering smile.

  Moving as if he were half asleep, Scottie unwrapped it, looked at the orange and brown pieces and then drew back his hand.

  “Did I get the wrong kind?” Ian asked. “Do ye not like those?”

  “I just don’t feel like having any right now,” he said. His downcast eyes were unreadable.

  “I don’t know what else ye want to know, Scottie. About yer…” She glanced uncomfortably at Ian. “About Patrick.”

  He thought for a moment. “What did he look like?”

  Maura reached out and cupped his face with her hand. “Like you,” she whispered.

  He moved his head away from her touch, not angrily, but uncomfortable with the attention of both adults on him.

  “Do you have a picture?” he asked.

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

  His eyes darted and his lips pursed, deep in thought. Suddenly, Scottie reached for his books. “I’m going to do my homework now,” he said.

  “Do ye need any help?” Ian asked with a bit too much eagerness.

  “No. I’ll be in my room.”

  Maura held her arm out, inviting a hug. He brushed past her, pretending not to notice.

  After he closed his bedroom door, Ian turned to Maura. “Do ye think he hates us?”

  “No. It’s a lot for him to take in.”

  He sat back, disappointed that all hadn’t been resolved spotless and neat. Shrouded in the the uncomfortable feeling that nothing would ever be the same, he brushed his nose with his knuckles and sniffed. “Well, now what?”

  She held her tea cup, steadied her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “We go on.”

  ***

  Aryl walked along Main Street and debated. He could tell Arianna that he talked to the sheriff and she’d never know the truth. In fact, he could tell her anything he wanted. And he could get really creative. She’d practically explode if he made up something about walking in on the sheriff and his receptionist at an inopportune moment. That would put Caleb’s mind at ease as well. Aryl smirked. Where would be the fun in that? It was a lot more fun than what she’d sent him to do, drop in on the sheriff and start conversation that was supposed to find out which direction their new sheriff’s interests lay.

  Aryl caught him on his way out. After closing the door behind him, William stuck out his hand and gave Aryl’s a good shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been so busy I’ve been slow in getting around to everyone.”

  Aryl watched his face carefully, waiting for the wink.

  “Well, it’s understandable. We’ve been busy as well.”

  “I was just on my way out, but I can spare a quick minute before I go.”

  Aryl panicked, having no idea how to initiate this conversation. Or any conversation. Luckily, William went on.

  “I have met your friend Caleb and his lovely wife. She’s a…vibrant woman.”

  Aryl smiled. If she was vibrant now, he didn’t want to know what the sheriff would consider her a few years ago.

  “It makes a lot more sense after meeting her.”

  “What makes more sense?” Aryl asked.

  William waved his hand. “Never mind. I am actually very glad you stopped by. I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you. I just wish we had more time,” he said, glancing at his watch.

  “Talk about what?” Aryl asked.

  “Well, how would you feel about joining my team?”

  Aryl’s brows dropped. “Your team?”

  William stepped forward, put a hand on Aryl’s shoulder and squeezed. “I could use a good man,” he said.

  Wink.

  The squeeze turned into a slow knead and Aryl jumped back, eyes wide, stumbling over himself.

  “Hey now! I’m married,” he said with wild eyes, holding out a hand that had a bit of shake to it.

  “I understand,” William said. “So am I. And I understand that some things you might have to run past the wife. If this is one of those things, then by all means, do. The last thing I want to do is cause problems in your home life.”

  “This would cause some pretty serious problems at home, I assure you,” Aryl said with a bewildered look, putting another foot of distance between them.

  “I’m disappointed to hear it, Aryl.” William thumbed over his shoulder. “I’d better get movin’, I’m late. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He tipped his hat with a grin before he walked away.

  ***

  It was well after dark when Jonathan pulled up to the Rockport Review to let Muzzy out.

  Leaning against the door, looking like he had all the time in the world was a man in a black jacket. His head bent as he lit a cigarette.

  “Do you know him, Muzzy?” Jonathan asked with a critical eye.

  “Oh, that’s Peter,” she said. Her cheeks involuntarily pinked and her hands became twitchy. “He’s new in town.”

  “It looks like he’s waiting for you.”

  Her head whipped over. “You think?” she asked with wide eyes.

  Jonathan turned off the engine. “I’ll just see you inside,” he said, keeping one eye on Mr.

  Nothing-better-to-do.

  “Muzzy,” Peter said, flashing a smile that made her visibly star struck. “I was hoping I’d see you.”

  “We just got back from Boston,” she said, dropping her head in Jonathan’s direction. She looked like she’d lost all sense of balance.

  “Oh, is this your father?” he asked, transferring his cigarette from one hand to the other and offering a shake. Jonathan stiffened, then glared.

  “No, I am not her father,” he said, glancing at, but not taking his hand.

  “Jon is a friend of mine,” Muzzy explained.

  “Well, nice to meet you anyway,” Peter said.

  “Do you have family in town, Peter?” Jonathan asked.

  He smiled. “Scattered here and there.” He turned his eyes to Muzzy. “I thought we could get that cup of coffee and you could tell me that long story about your name.”

  “I’d love to. As luck would have it, I have reason to celebrate. Jonathan helped land me the advertising deal of a lifetime. Well, the deal of a lifetime for someone as small as I am.”

  Jonathan nudged her.

  “Er, as small as the paper is, I mean. I managed a deal for Mr. Brown and he’s going to be overjoyed about it.”

  “I can’t wait to hear every detail. You can ride with me. Hop on.” He motioned for her to follow him and it was then she noticed his
motor bike, parked several feet away. “Is that yours?” she cried. “I have one almost just like it parked out back! I adore motor bikes. I couldn’t live without mine.”

  “It’s a twenty-eight Indian. What’s yours?”

  “A twenty-six Flying Squirrel. Oh, yours is beautiful!” She began a slow trance like walk toward him and his bike. Jonathan grabbed her sleeve and brought her back to earth for a moment.

  “Muzzy, do you know him well enough to just run off with him?” he asked quietly.

  “We met…once. Claire was there.”

  His eyes were serious, his face concerned. “You’ve met him once, you only know his first name and his family is scattered about. You don’t know where he lives or where he works. Why don’t you at least take your own motor bike?”

  “Oh, fine,” she said, tossing her hair around. “Now you are acting like my father,” she said and hugged him briefly. “Thank you again for all your help!” She scurried off down the alley to get her bike, tossing Jonathan a wave as she went.

  ***

  Ava and Jean had held dinner, waiting for Jonathan to return from Boston. She had grown used to the distracted concerned look on his face all the time. She stopped asking what was wrong because, for the most part, she knew and was helpless to fix any of his problems.

  Jean began eating as soon as they were all seated and Ava smiled. Though he was starving, it had been his idea to wait.

  Ravenous appetites kept conversation at bay for quite a while. Jonathan concentrated on his chicken soup and rolls, devouring them quickly. When his growling hunger was mostly satisfied, he put his spoon down and looked squarely at Ava.

  “Do I look old?” he asked.

  She stared blankly, then smiled. “No, of course not. Why do you ask?”

  As he took another roll, she could see he was working hard to shake something off.

  “Did you hear back from the pastor? Is he going to let you use the space?”

  Ava clapped her hands, brimming with excitement. “Yes, Arianna came over and told me that he’d agreed to it. We’re going to meet with him next week to go over the details of the first market. Oh, if he gets his congregation on board, it could be a big success.”

  “I’m glad it worked out for you,” Jonathan said, forcing a smile.

  “Did it not go well in Boston?” she asked, her shoulders slumping. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, it went fine in Boston. They said they wanted to give her the advertising deal.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  “I would have felt better if they would have let her sign, but they insisted on mailing the paperwork to Mr. Brown.”

  “So, she’ll just sign it, send it back and then it’s done?”

  “It appears so.”

  Ava sat back, grinning. “Muzzy must be so happy right now.”

  “Oh, she is. For more reasons than one,” Jonathan said, dipping his roll in the last of his soup.

  “You know what that means, Jean?” Ava asked, turning. “She’ll be able to hire you to deliver papers. Have you had enough time to think about it?”

  He looked up with a forced smile. “I think I’d like to do that,” he said quietly and dropped his eyes again. Jonathan and Ava glanced from him to each other with concern.

  ***

  Muzzy pulled up at the marina just as Jonathan and Aryl were heading off in different directions.

  “Jon!” she called, kicked the stand on her bike, tore off her goggles and practically jumped off the seat. “I think I found something that might help you!” she said excitedly. “You still need men for your boats?”

  “Yes, I haven’t had time to find anyone. You know of someone?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” She clasped her hands together below her chin. “Peter.” She was grinning wildly while Jonathan had a look of apprehension.

  “I know that you don’t know him, but just give him a try, please? He’s a real hard worker and knows about boats. When I asked him if he had any experience, he started rattling off all sorts of terms that had my head spinning.”

  “He’s worked on a boat before?” Jonathan asked, his apprehension giving way to curiosity.

  “He has, when he was working his way down the coast. I was talking about how I was going to post a help wanted ad to repay you for helping me get the Lucky Strike deal. Well, he told me all about his experience and I told him I’d ask you to give him a chance. It’s perfect!”

  Jonathan grinned, amused if only for Muzzy’s energy. It didn’t matter the time of day or night, when Muzzy was excited about something, she practically vibrated.

  “Alright, I’ll tell you what, I’ll give him a try.” He held out a finger. “If only to find out more about him for your sake.”

  She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  “Who knows, maybe he’ll work out. Then we can split into two until we find a third.”

  Muzzy waved her fists around, excited. “I am so glad you said that. Because I told him to be here before dawn tomorrow morning.” She flashed a toothy grin.

  ***

  Maura threw her arms out when Tarin opened the door.

  “How are ye, love? Did ye have a good time? Are ye settlin’ in well?”

  “We had a lovely time, Auntie.” Inviting her in, she saw that the living room furniture was in the process of being rearranged, the curtains swapped out for ones Tarin received as a gift and white spots dotted the walls; old pictures taken down, making room for new ones.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see ye sooner, I know you’ve been back over a week. I wanted to give ye both some time to get adjusted from honeymoon to real life.”

  “Well, there was no need. I’m adjusting fine.”

  “Tell me about yer honeymoon,” Maura said, sitting down on the sofa which had been shoved to the middle of the room.

  “It was wonderful. Four days went very quickly, but we managed to take in a few shows and had room service for breakfast and dinner at the nicest restaurants. Gordon must have spent a fortune while we were there. He kept taking me places and telling me that everything was fine. I decided to believe him instead of worry. I have to say, the city is awfully fun when you have money to do things.”

  Maura smiled and patted her leg. “I’m happy for ye dear.”

  “How have you been? How is everyone?”

  “Nothing much has happened in the wee bit of time you’ve been gone, dear. I’m in the process of planning Thanksgiving dinner. We’ve been chosen to host—” She stopped and grabbed Tarin’s arm. “Tell me that you and Gordon don’t have plans already?”

  “No, Auntie, no plans. We’d love to come.”

  “If ye could bring a bit of dairy, that would help tremendously. Butter and cream perhaps?”

  “I’m sure I can. Anything else?”

  “Just some long winded and entertainin’ stories about yer time in the city. I’m afraid it’s likely to be a tense Thanksgiving, what with Mr. Jonathan upset with Mr. Caleb and Mr. Aryl concerned over Mr. Jonathan’s business decisions. And then there’s the whole business with the sheriff that’s got all of them teasin’ each other and fit to be tied. And…Scottie is bein’ very quiet lately, after findin’ out about Patrick.”

  “Auntie, I thought you said not much had happened while I was gone!” she said with a playful push. Then her face fell serious, the last of Maura’s words sinking in. “Scottie found out?”

  “Aye,” Maura said, taking in a deep worrisome breath. “And he’s not been the same since. It’s been a few days and I keep waiting for it all to settle out. Seems to be taking it’s time in doing so.” She stopped, sighed and fluttered her watering eyes. “Ian’s fit to be tied over it. Keeps buying things we can’t afford. I told him to stop, buying the child’s affection isn’t a wise idea. He can’t see it though. All he sees is that Scottie hardly looks at him anymore and when he does, it’s different.”

  “Would you like me to talk to him? I could try to help. I remem
ber Patrick well and I remember how Ian came into your life, how dedicated he was to seeing you past the worst of it. I’ll help Scottie remember that while Ian may not be his real da, he’s been his da nonetheless.”

  “That might help,” Maura said with a thin smile. “Scottie trusts ye, after all. Like a sister.”

  “Can we invite ourselves over for dinner tonight, then? I’ll talk to Scottie and we can go over what stories you want me to tell at Thanksgiving.”

  ***

  Though his fingers ached, Aryl took his time tying off the boat. He waited for Jonathan to pay Peter for the day’s work and when he heard Peter’s Indian fire up onshore, he looked up. Jonathan was standing on the deck, shivering violently. His teeth chattering while he counted pots.

  “I could have done that while we were pulling in,” Aryl said as the cold rippled through him as well. The weather had been unseasonably fair. They had been able to stay closer in and still manage a decent haul. Just as they started getting used to it, dark clouds had crept in with the sunset, bringing a painfully icy wind with it. It signaled not only a permanent change in the weather, but longer work days as well. Aryl didn’t like the wind, but he dreaded the rain. To be dry and cold was one thing. Soaking wet and cold was another miserable thing altogether. He made a note to ask Claire to rub another coat of wax on his pants and overalls. It wouldn’t keep him bone dry, but it helped.

  Jonathan threw up a hand, gesturing it was fine and kept counting.

  “Thinking about buying some more?” Aryl asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, his knees bending with small jerky movements in an attempt to keep warm. “I think we can make do with what we have for the season.”

  “That depends,” Jonathan said, handing off a bucket of lobster to Aryl.

  “On what?”

  “How Ian did out there alone today and if you think Peter will work out. How’d he do?”

  “Not bad,” Aryl said. As much as he hated to admit it, Peter worked fast and hard, only had to be shown how to do something once and kept conversation to an absolute minimum. All of those things Aryl was happy with, except the last. Peter was unnaturally quiet.