Raquel Byrnes

by Whispers on Shadow Bay

  “I know,” I said, and a smirk pulled at my mouth. Was Simon jealous? “I’ve met countless Phillips in my other life.”

  “I didn’t find anything out here,” Simon said and threw the stick into the nearby tree line. He stood staring into the forest, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Animal or otherworldly.”

  “Nothing?” I searched the clearing near the tree line.

  “Just markings that look an awful lot like your footprints and mine.”

  I stood with my arms crossed, not believing there was no sign of what I saw. The look on Simon’s face made frustration burn in my stomach.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I believe you saw something.” He shrugged. “I just don’t know what.”

  He didn’t look convinced. This didn’t seem like the time to ask him about Lucien. I let my head fall back, my face to the sun. Clouds, puffy and white, floated lazily across the trees. So beautiful and so ominous, Noble Island left me off balance. My gaze went to Simon, who stood watching me.

  “What did you want to speak with me about?”

  “It can wait for now,” I said.

  “You’re sure?”

  I glanced at Phillip’s receding form. His presence seemed to throw Simon off. “Are you coming to breakfast?” I asked finally, defeated.

  “No, you go ahead.” He shook his head. “I have something I need to do.”

  “But your cousin.”

  “Will still be there for lunch.” Simon reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry, Rosetta. I wish I had found what you wanted me to see.”

  He turned and walked into the dark of the woods. I wished he wasn’t always doing that. I wished for once he’d stay with me.

  ****

  “Well, boy,” Davenport said with his teacup midway to his lips. “What brings you back to us this time?”

  “Just a visit.” Phillip sat back in the wicker chair and smiled, his hands out at his sides. “Need there be more?”

  Davenport harrumphed and sipped his tea. Still, a slight smile played across his features. He was obviously glad to see Phillip.

  I sat opposite them under the gazebo.

  Mrs. Tuttle fussed with a tray of eggs and toast before setting it on the table. She shot an irritated look in Phillip’s direction before heading back to the house.

  “I’m glad you decided to come out, Mr. Hale.” I separated orange slices on my plate and looked around. “Did you tell Lavender about breakfast in the garden?”

  “She wasn’t in her bed,” Phillip answered and shrugged. “Maybe she’ll make an appearance for lunch.”

  “Really?” I looked at the rows of rose bushes, hoping to see her bouncing curls or ribbons. “I should go and find her.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Davenport grumped. “You can save the strawberries if you want to. They’re the only thing she’ll eat out of all of this, anyway.”

  “Your soft side is showing,” I said as I gathered the berries in a bowl, smiling.

  Phillip caught my eye and winked. “He just looks like a bear on the outside,” he said.

  Tires on the gravel out front stopped Davenport’s comment, and he craned his neck to see up the driveway. The topiaries blocked the view from the gazebo and he reached for his cane.

  “Who would that be?” he asked.

  I helped him to his feet. His hands were shaking.

  “Tuttle!”

  She poked her head out the kitchen window. “It’s the sheriff.”

  “Noble Island has a sheriff?” I asked, shocked. “It’s such a small island.”

  “Which is why we share Sheriff Levine with Orca and San Juan Islands,” Phillip said. “He doesn’t even have an office here. Just a substation.”

  We walked the path to the front of the house.

  Sheriff Levine stood in all of his beige uniform glory on the stone steps, hat in hand. Brown hair, athletic, he looked barely older than Simon. A smile crinkled the corners of his dark eyes.

  “Mr. Hale,” he said, extending his hand. “Just stopped by for a visit.”

  “Seems to be going around,” Davenport said, and they shook.

  “Oh, yes.” Levine nodded at me. “You must be Ms. Ryan.”

  “I think he meant…” I realized Phillip wasn’t with us. Recovering, I smiled at Levine. “I mean, nice to meet you, Sheriff.”

  “Is there a problem?” Davenport asked, leaning heavily on his cane.

  I worried he was getting too weak. I hoped Dr. Fliven’s visit could help to clear up my worries about Davenport’s health.

  “No, no,” Sheriff Levine said, shaking his head. “Just, you know, popping by to see how things are going on the islands.”

  “Well, Ms. Ryan, here, demands we keep coffee on hand,” Davenport said and winked at me. “Care to join us?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Levine followed Davenport back.

  A flutter of curtain on the second floor caught my eye. I went to the breakfast table and grabbed the bowl of strawberries.

  “I’m going to find Lavender,” I said.

  Davenport waved his hand dismissively as he and Levine started in on the subject of boats. I glanced around for Phillip, didn’t find him, and guessed he must have gone to find Simon. Upstairs on the landing, the door to the linen closet stood ajar, and I walked up to it quietly and tapped with my nails. It slammed shut.

  “I guess I’ll just have to throw these strawberries away,” I said with my mouth to the crack. Silence, and then the closet door opened with a squeak.

  “Do you really have strawberries?” Lavender asked.

  I held the bowl out, and her little hand snaked out and grabbed one before disappearing back into the closet.

  “Why won’t you come out, Lala?” I asked. “Are you still upset about last night?”

  “No.” I heard her chewing, and then her hand came out again, palm up.

  “Then what?” I placed a berry on her palm, and she took it. “We’re eating in the garden. In the gazebo. You love that.”

  “I don’t like visitors,” she said, but pushed the door open. She pulled me in by my hand, and I lay half inside, half on the stairs on my back next to her.

  The closet was small, really only meant to hold jackets for guests or tablecloths. Lavender’s drawings papered the walls and pink plastic beads dangled from the hangar pole like sparkly rain. Wicker baskets piled with all types of trinkets and crafts lined the back of the space. She spent a lot of time in here playing.

  “You mean Phillip?” I asked.

  Lavender didn’t answer. Instead, she fell back onto her pile of colorful pillows, pulling one over her face.

  “Thank you for going out to look for my mommy, Rosie,” Lavender whispered from under the pillow. “You’re very brave.”

  “Well,” I said and lifted the pillow a bit, peeking underneath. “I only managed to fall in the mud and get rained on.”

  She giggled and wrapped her fingers around my thumb. Sighing, she pulled a strawberry under the pillow, and I heard her chewing.

  “I still think you’re brave.”

  “I think you are, too.”

  “Me?”

  “Well, yeah,” I said.

  Lavender finished the strawberries and then was silent. After a minute, she sighed. “Do you think Mrs. Tuttle made some pancakes?”

  “I can go and check,” I said, and she flipped the pillow off, nodding. “OK, you stay here, and I’ll be right back.”

  Leaving her, I walked down to the kitchen. As I approached, I heard Mrs. Tuttle’s voice crack with anger.

  “…have to get him to leave.”

  “Well, I don’t know how we’re going to do that,” O’Shay answered back.

  I stopped with my hand to the door wondering if I should go in.

  “He can’t stay here. Not now. He’ll find out,” Mrs. Tuttle hissed. “Do something.”

  “Like what?”

  I felt bad listening to a private conv
ersation and backed away from the door. My hair caught on a frame knocking it to the floor with a crash.

  Mrs. Tuttle pushed through the door, her face angry. “What are you doing creeping around out here?”

  “I wasn’t,” I held up the empty bowl. “Lavender wanted pancakes, and I thought—”

  “You thought why not, right? Tuttle’s not doing anything. First Phillip, and now this.” She walked back into the kitchen, and I followed her, catching sight of O’Shay outside walking away from the house. He looked back over his shoulder at me, his face tense.

  “It’s not like I have anything better to do than play short order cook to this entire family.”

  I didn’t tell her I thought that was her job.

  “Should I tell her no?”

  “No, Ms. Ryan,” she grumbled. “Have a seat. They’ll be ready in a minute.”

  I slumped into a chair, my elbows on the table, head on my fists, and watched her bang around the kitchen gathering ingredients.

  The light changed, growing darker, and my gaze went to the sky outside. Clouds like dark smears muted the sun, and cool wind wafted in through the screen door. I sighed. So much for the lovely day.

  I watched her work, her jaw clenching and unclenching as she whipped the batter. I didn’t understand her argument with O’Shay just now. Come to think of it, I didn’t understand a whole lot around here.

  That, I decided, was going to change.

  21

  Late afternoon brought gray skies and drizzle. Determined to make it to the village today even if it meant going in the rain, I hurried along the road in the golf cart. Stepping under the covered storefronts of the village shops just as fat drops plopped onto the cobblestones, I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders.

  “Rosetta,” Phillip called from a shop on the opposite side of the street. He ran over, shielding his head from the rain with a newspaper.

  “Where did you disappear to this morning?” I asked.

  “I went to find Simon. I thought he might want to know the sheriff was calling, but I couldn’t find him. Did you just come down here for a stroll or—”

  “Oh, no. I’m here for some more tea at the apothecary and maybe a sweater.”

  Phillip eyed the door of the shop behind me. “Well, I have a few things to do as well, but what say you we meet up at Mănâncă for a bite, say in an hour?”

  “Is that a restaurant?”

  “Yes, but it’s not on this street.” He pointed down the cobblestone way. “See that last group of stores? If you turn the corner just after them, the road will take you right past. You can take the golf cart in case it rains, but it’s not far.”

  “Oh, OK…in an hour.”

  “Yes, see you then,” he said and was off, strolling back across the street in the rain.

  Had I just accepted a dinner invitation with Simon’s cousin?

  The apothecary’s door jangled open, and I held it for a couple before walking in. Nalla looked up, her smile faltering when she saw me.

  “I just want tea,” I said and held out the pouch from my first visit. “And to pay for the tea I took with me last time.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  The calm of her voice surprised me, and I ventured further into the store. “Just the valerian root today,” I said.

  A gypsy woman, bent by age, hovered near a row of bowls near the rear of the shop picking at the contents. Nalla put her hand out palm up as she rounded the counter. I dropped the sachet into her palm. Her gaze went to my slippered feet, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she nodded towards the jars of herbs in back, and I followed her.

  “You may want some balm of Gilead for your feet,” she said over her shoulder. “Josif told me you have cuts. The balm will be good for the inflammation. Maybe some graperoot to fight infection.”

  “Is he related to you?” I leaned on the rear counter as she pulled out the scale. “These silk shoes, they have the same design embroidered as his vest.”

  “He is my cousin,” Nalla said and scooped the root into the sachet. Reaching underneath the counter, she pulled out a small brown bottle and set it in front of me. “My cousin said that you threatened to cut him to ribbons to protect our Lala. Do you fancy yourself her protector now?” Her glare was cold, challenging.

  “I just…” Then I realized she’d used Lavender’s pet name. “Who is Lala to you?”

  “She is my niece,” Nalla said with a scowl. “Amanna was my sister. We were born together. Why do you care who the child is to me?”

  “Just curious,” I muttered. Twins. Their striking resemblance made sense now. Looking through the photo album from the library, I’d mistaken Nalla for Amanna at first. Nalla and Amanna, Lavender and Lucien; twins must run in the family.

  “Well, thank you for the balm.” I turned to leave. My presence was clearly bothering her.

  “Rosetta.”

  I turned back, worried about another outburst.

  “They don’t survive. All of them die before their time,” she whispered. Her gaze flitted to the old woman customer near the door.

  “Who?”

  “The women of Shadow Bay.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I don’t know for our Lala, but her mother…”

  “I don’t understand, Nalla.”

  “You know about Simon’s mother. How she is fine one day, and dead the next.”

  “But I thought a fever—”

  “A fever, what is a fever?” Nalla waved her hand dismissively. “This happens just days after she says she will cut off his money?”

  “How do you know that?” I demanded. “How would you even learn about—”

  “My sister told me,” Nalla snapped. “Simon’s mother refuses him permission to marry Amanna, and within a week his mother is dead?”

  “What?” Alarm rocked through me. Was all this true?

  Her hands shot out, clasped mine with a deadly grip. “I know he is a man that you cannot behold without wanting, but take care, Rosetta. There is deep darkness in Simon Hale. Danger you don’t see until it’s too late.”

  “But Josif…” I pulled my hands from hers.

  “Josif loves Simon like a brother. He is blinded by too many years, but I know.” She took in a slow breath and then blew out a sad sigh. “He is not only what you see. There’s fire in his blood. Josif told me. Simon learned how to kill, how to become the shadows so you don’t see him coming. He gets what he wants regardless of the cost, Rosetta. Remember this.”

  “I—I have to go.” Putting money on the counter, I tried to keep my hands from shaking. I stumbled out of the store, worry wracking my thoughts.

  The images of Simon on that jungle shore, his face bloody, and Simon with Lavender; cradling her, flashed in my mind. I shook my head, confused. Which was the real man? Could there be only one? Could the dual parts of his heart exist together?

  Walking to the post office, I collected Davenport’s book. The postmaster handed me a letter. It was the one I’d sent to my mother earlier. She’d returned it unopened and written ‘Return to Sender’ in her flowing script. My breath caught with the blow of her refusal to even read what I written.

  I knew the risk to my heart when I decided to follow You, Lord, but I don’t know if I have the strength for any more blows to my faith. I just…I’m so tired.

  A singular thought resonated within. The verse from Isaiah that I’d turned to during my father’s trial, when the pressure from all those around me was to give in; to lie.

  Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of My righteousness.

  I held the letter to my chest. My throat ached with so much loss I had trouble taking in a breath. I ran my finger along the indentation her words made on the envelope.

  I felt lost on this strange island. Weird occurrences, unfriendly locals, and now dire warnings about Simon made me feel tossed about like a paper cup i
n a tempest. I repeated the verse to myself in a silent prayer, hoping with all my heart that the strength my God promised would come soon.

  ****

  We sat in the restaurant near the windows. Darkly lit with red votive candles, violin music from the musician up front wafted along the clusters of softly speaking customers. The owners had adorned the walls with costumes from Romania and it occurred to me that the Romani people on Noble were actually from Romania. Lush velvet bodices and silken skirts with gold embroidery hung next to mounted accordions. Old world charm mingled with succulent scents of grilled meat and rich sauces. It was a place I would have loved to be at with Simon. At least until an hour ago. Now I wasn’t sure what I wanted or what I thought about him.

  “Well, the Hales and the gypsies of Noble Island have a long history of bad blood,” Phillip said and shrugged. “I don’t see that ending very soon.”

  The waitress brought our dinners, a wonderful smelling meat stew.

  “Tocanita,” she said. “Sorry you had to wait so long, Mr. Cotropi. But the boat took two weeks to get the herbs and spices to us.”

  “I’m sure it’s amazing,” Phillip said and smiled, dismissing her.

  “I don’t understand,” I continued once she was gone. “Is it just a cultural difference? A haves and have nots situation, or is there an actual reason?”

  “The gypsies of Noble Island were banished here. There’s some sort of legend that explains why, but suffice it to say that they fell afoul of the Romanian government. After that, they ran amok all over this rock until it was settled by fur traders in the late eighteen hundreds, and that’s when the trouble began. The U.S. government didn’t recognize any ownership by the gypsy clans and sold off pieces of Noble to families like the Hales. There’s still a lot of resentment here.” Phillip took a sip of his water, cracked some ice between his teeth, and smiled at me. “Why are you taking Nalla so seriously?”