by Chris Niles
He passed the two sturdy white Adirondack chairs, their dry, cracked wood fading beneath peeling white paint. He couldn’t bring himself to repair them, much less sit in them. He probably never would.
Climbing the porch steps, the woman’s weight pressed heavy over his left shoulder. He pulled open the screen, fished a key from his pocket, then fitted it into the lock on the dark, varnished teak front door.
Inside, stuffy air hung heavy in the enclosed space. Tim gently lay the woman on a long sofa, then moved almost on autopilot around the first floor, opening windows to allow the cross breeze to clear the musty smell from the air and fill the space with the fresh briny gusts across the flats.
The long journey behind him, the Irishman pulled a Waterford crystal tumbler from a cabinet then poured two fingers of whiskey from his homeland. He crouched beside the sofa and took a sip.
“I wish you would have just told me, love. It didn’t have to be like this. But when you wake in the morning, perhaps we can try again.”
He took another sip of the whiskey, tightened the bindings around her wrists and ankles, then walked back out onto the porch to watch the stars blink into the western sky.
Chapter Eight
Long morning shadows from the seagrape hedge at the water’s edge stretched across the little patch of grass, then up the front of Chuck’s little yellow concrete block house. Kate peered through the screen door and gently rapped on its narrow wooden frame.
“Chuck?” Kate held her voice just barely above a whisper.
A low thunk came from the tiny kitchen, then Chuck, clean shaven, scurried to the front door, which was open to the breeze flowing across the shallow flats with the morning sun. He waved Kate in, then once she entered, held the door for Whiskey to follow.
She pointed down the hall that bisected the little bungalow.
“He’s still asleep, and I’d like to keep him that way as long as I can. Last night was hard on him.”
“I can imagine.” Kate leaned against a tiny wooden table while Whiskey spun around three times then curled on the cool tile beneath it. In the corner, Chuck’s refrigerator fought against the damp coastal heat with a low, steady hum.
“He was so tired, but he wouldn’t lie down.” Chuck measured flour and butter into a bowl. “It was like he was afraid if he went to sleep, he’d miss her coming back. I tried to get him to watch TV. I tried to get him to play a game. Nothin’. He settled down a little when I got some old Lincoln Logs out and started building a house, then finally he dropped right there on the tile floor. I managed to carry him to bed. He’s little, but he’s not light!”
“Sleep okay after that?”
“He did. Not so much for me. I slept in there with him in case he woke up and freaked out. I maybe got a couple hours.” He added a glug of buttermilk to the mixture, then jammed his left hand into the bowl and began to squeeze the contents into dough.
“So, you got up and shaved?”
“Thing was hot as all of Hades. Glad to have it gone.”
Kate noted a tone in her friend’s voice that belied his words.
“Next year.” She stared through the open jalousie slats to the glittering water beyond the hedge. Chuck’s grandfather had built this house as a wedding gift to his parents. A few years later, he’d been born here. And not quite a year ago, Kate and her neighbors had helped him save it from a sneaky Miami developer. She pulled her thoughts back to the missing woman.
“She seemed like such a good mom.”
“She is. Kate, I been readin’ people all my life.” Chuck eyed her as he pulled a clump of dough from the bowl then started cutting it into rounds. “People’ve hid here from all sorts of demons, so I’ve gotten pretty good at tellin’ what kind of trouble they’ve gotten themselves into. And I’m telling’ you, that little boy is everything to her. Whatever she’s into, she didn’t just up and take off on her own.”
“I don’t know, Chuck. In retrospect, it’s almost like she knew she was looking for a place to dump—”
“Whiskey!” Eddie’s shout make Kate jump.
The dog scrambled to his feet then launched across the tile floor. The little boy ran toward him from the hallway, dragging his stuffed sloth by its foot. Eddie wrapped his arms around Whiskey and together, they fell to the floor and rolled around, Whiskey’s tail thumping against the tile and the stuffed animal flopping back and forth, almost louder than Eddie’s giggles.
Chuck wiped the flour from his hands, then pulled a blistering hot iron skillet from the oven. He dropped the biscuit rounds on top of a huge scoop of lard, then slid the pan back into the hot box. “We’ll finish this later.”
“Miss Kate, look!”
In the center of Chuck’s small living room, Whiskey lay on his back, four legs sprawling. Eddie climbed across his body, rubbing his belly, then dropped to his knees and flopped down on top of the dog.
“Eddie, careful!” Kate jumped to her feet, but Whiskey stretched his head and one paw over the boy’s shoulder and lay perfectly still in the embrace. She turned to Chuck.
“I’ve never seen him let anyone pin him like that.”
Chuck grinned. “You ever seen a kid try? Or only a grownup?”
“Now that you mention it, I suppose the only time I’ve seen anybody try was his trainer. I mean, who’d try to pin a seventy-pound guard dog with teeth like his?”
Chuck pointed at the pile of kid and fur. “Eddie. And Whiskey knows the difference between a kid who needs a hug and a thug who needs a chomp. He’s a smart dog.”
“He is a smart dog, indeed.”
Kate spun at the familiar voice. Tony waited outside the screen door, his hand on the latch. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chuck nod, then Tony pulled the door open. In two strides, he crouched and started tickling Eddie.
The boy rolled off of Whiskey in a fit of giggles, and the three wrestled for several more minutes. Kate watched as the sunbeams streaming through Chuck’s front window filled with plumes of dog hair.
A sharp ding from his timer pulled Chuck back into the kitchen and a moment later, he set a hot pad and a skillet of steaming biscuits on the table. He spun around and scooped thick white sausage gravy into a bowl, then dropped it beside the skillet.
“Better get yours before they realize it’s ready.”
Kate gathered plates, forks, and napkins from the cabinet, laid them out on the table, then helped herself to two biscuits and a generous helping of gravy.
Scooping up a bite, she turned to the boys still wrestling on the floor. “Breakfast is ready, you animals.” Then she turned to Chuck. “I’ll clean all the hair up after these fools take their wrestling match outside.”
“No need. I’m just glad to have a little life in here for a change. Sometimes Colton comes by and watches Jeopardy! with me if his mama’s working late, but that room ain’t seen a good rough-and-tumble since my daddy was a kid.” Chuck piled a biscuit and some gravy onto his own plate. “No, that’s been an old man’s room for way too long. Let ’em play.”
“Chuck, you act like you were never young.”
“Kinda wasn’t. Losin’ Daddy at six and mama at nine, I was never much of a kid after that. Gramps did the best he could raisin’ me on his own, but there was a lot of work to do around here. I loved helpin’ him out more than anything, but we Millers are just kind of a serious bunch.”
Kate studied her friend. “Chuck, why didn’t you ever have kids of your own?”
The wrinkles deepened around the corners of his eyes. “Well, first thing you need to have kids is a mama.” He looked around the room. “And, I dunno, I never really found anyone I wanted to share this with.”
Tony pulled himself out of the fray and brushed the fur from his tee shirt. “What about Babette? I always thought…”
Kate and Chuck both burst into laughter. “Lord, no,” Chuck shivered. “That’d be like datin’ my sister.”
“Besides, it’s been what, ten years since she lost Joe, and I’m pr
etty sure she still says goodnight to him every night before she falls asleep.” Kate winced. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
Tony rested a hand on her shoulder. “Nothin’ wrong with that at all, cher. It’s okay to miss what got taken away too soon.”
Kate’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she counted the tiles on Chuck’s backsplash. “Miss it, sure,” she finally replied. “But at some point, you gotta figure out how to let it be in the past.”
Tony leaned closer, and she could smell the fresh scent of soap and deodorant. “Yeah. At some point you do.”
As the grownups talked, Eddie gave Whiskey a final pat, then he grabbed his sloth and dragged it toward the kitchen where Chuck was making him a plate.
“Hey, bud, how about we let your friend wait on the couch while the humans eat?” Tony reached for the stuffed animal, but Eddie whirled away.
“No! Mama said to never leave Slothie by himself.” He hugged the toy tight against his chest, then ran into the guest room and slammed the door behind him.
Kate’s eyes flared, but Chuck and Tony both calmly stepped down the hall then sat, one on either side of the door.
Tony pointed to his own chest, and Chuck nodded.
“Eddie, I’m sorry, man. Slothie can eat with us if he wants.” He waited, then tried again. “Does he like biscuits and gravy?”
Through quiet, choked sobs, a tiny voice fought its way past the thick door. “Sloths eat leaves and branches. He’s gluten-free like my mama.” Then he let out another long, loud wail.
“You miss your mama.”
Another wail. Then, “She said she didn’t have to go away again until school started. And I’m supposed to be with Miss Kelsey and Mister Brian when she goes on trips. And she always says ‘see ya later, alligator’ when she goes on a trip, and she didn’t say it. And—”
Kate winced at the sound of sloppy snuffling and wet coughing from inside the room. She crept toward the two men, then crouched at the end of the hall, eyeing them warily. From the front room, Whiskey whined. Kate pointed at him and whispered, “Stay.” Then she turned to the men. “Why don’t you just—”
Tony held a hand up.
“I know, bud. Everything’s messed up this time, ain’t it? But your mama asked me to look out for you, and I’m gonna do that, okay? Can you trust me?” Chuck’s voice was soft. Reassuring. Kate almost relaxed as the boy’s sobs died down.
“Mama says ‘ain’t ain’t a word.’”
Chuck smiled. “You’re mama’s right. I’m sorry, I’ll try to talk better.”
Tony reached up and slowly turned the doorknob. “Hey, Eddie, can I come in and tell Slothie I’m sorry?”
After a few sobs, something that sounded like “Uh-huh” sounded through the crack under the door.
Tony rolled to his knees, then cracked the door and slowly poked his head inside. “Hey, Slothie. Will you forgive me for thinkin’ you didn’t want breakfast with us? I got a nice tasty branch of leaves out here for you.”
Eddie’s hand swatted at Tony’s arm. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Well, I will in a minute after I go get one, anyway.” Tony grinned and the little boy stretched the sloth’s arm into the crack of the doorway.
“Okay. I forgive you.”
Tony shook the furry hand, then the door swung wide. Eddie stumbled out, wiping his snotty nose with his forearm, then he ran toward Kate.
Kate grimaced and toppled backward as Tony grabbed Eddie’s filthy hand and led him to the bathroom to wash up.
Chapter Nine
“Gonna be another hot one.”
Beyond the docks, a gentle breeze rippled the pale, turquoise water, and gulls sailed across the cloudless sky. But around the crushed coral parking lot, the thick seagrape hedges kidnapped the breeze and held it captive at the water’s edge. Whiskey panted at Kate’s side. Wiping a tickling bead of sweat from the creases of her knees, Kate waved to Babette as her friend crossed the lot to the kitchen. “Every day is a hot one.”
“You hear from the detective yet?”
Chuck tossed a small stack of empty boxes on the back seat of his rickety golf cart. “Not this morning. She was on duty pretty late last night, lookin’ at security footage from up and down Duval Street. If I don’t hear by noon, I’ll give her a holler.” He pulled a key from his pocket as Eddie came running across the white gravel.
“Mr. Chuck! Mr. Chuck! Can I drive?”
Chuck sighed. “How ’bout you hold this box so it don’t fall off when I hit a bump?”
“How ’bout we put rocks in them so they don’t fall down?”
Kate and Chuck both stared at the boy, then traded a glance between them.
This kid is too smart for his own good.
“Or Whiskey can hold them. C’mere boy.” Eddie patted the cracked vinyl seat of the cart, and the dog looked up at Kate before jumping up. Eddie turned a box on its side and set the dog’s heavy paw on its inner surface. “See. He’s helping. Now can I drive?”
He climbed up and perched on the edge of the front seat with his sloth in his lap. He could barely reach the steering wheel. Chuck perched on the edge of the bench seat, then gently nudged Eddie toward the center.
Kate stared at the boy. He seemed small for a six-year-old—smaller than Colton had been when he and his mom moved onto Shark Key. But Colton had been almost eight.
Do boys grow in spurts?
Kate hadn’t spent much time around kids, so she didn’t have much of a frame of reference to judge what was normal and what wasn’t.
“Hey, Kate!”
She spun at the sound of Steve’s shout.
“Give me a hand?”
Chuck waved her off, and she bolted to the east dock, with its cooling breeze and kid-less spaces.
The new aluminum planks clanged with every footstep, and Kate hustled down to the stern of the Island Hopper Too, where Steve was wrestling a tub of gear over the rail. She grabbed the edge of the plastic container to steady it while he hopped over the gunwale, then he heaved it across the deck and down behind the bulkhead.
“Can you pass me those tanks, too?” Eight new SCUBA tanks lay stacked on a cart.
“Gladly.” Kate heaved one up and over to her friend.
“Heard Chuck has a new houseguest?” Steve nestled a tank into the first slot then trotted back to the starboard rail.
“For the moment, yeah. Mom and kid that came in a few days ago. You met her helping Babette with breakfast the other morning.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember her. Tiny little thing, barely taller than the kid? Blonde? A little pasty?”
Kate almost dropped the tank she had just lifted. “Pasty? No wonder you haven’t had a date yet. Steve, never call—” Kate shut her mouth and set the tank on the dock. Her friend’s smile had faded. “I… I didn’t mean it like… Steve, I’m sorry.”
“Kate, just stop. You of all people… Next week would have been our anniversary”
Kate glanced at her watch, the big numerals two and four below a tiny July “Oh, God, Steve, I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry.” She lay the tank down, then rested her hand on the rail and met his gaze. He nodded, and she gently climbed over the gunwale and onto the shaded dive deck, then wrapped him in a gentle hug.
Steve’s wife had died ten months earlier during their chase to save Shark Key from a Miami developer. And while his share of the treasure they’d found had made practical life a little easier, Kate and her friends had a front-row seat for his fifteen rounder with grief. When drinking didn’t soothe the ache, he’d started going to AA meetings. He’d been sober almost seven months, but with their wedding anniversary coming up, Kate’s stomach did a backflip.
She remembered her first anniversary after Danny. And while everyone felt grief differently, she knew she should have been more sensitive. More aware. More present for her friend.
She held him until he stopped shaking.
Finally, Steve’s arms loosened. He pulled away,
then he slipped into the salon. She heard a loud honk as he blew his nose, then running water in the galley sink. A moment later, he returned with two sweating bottles of water. He met her gaze. Nodded. She watched the bricks stack one on top of the next, restoring the wall he’d built around his feelings. He plopped onto the edge of the port side dive bench.
“I don’t know if I can stick around here.”
Kate spun around. “What?”
He patted the seat beside him, and she sat. “Everything reminds me of Susan. Everything. There’s not a street in town we didn’t walk together. A shop where she didn’t know the owner. She’s everywhere. It’s why I hardly ever go to town anymore. I can’t even go to West Marine without remembering the time she organized a surprise party for my thirtieth birthday. I walked in to pick up a new bilge pump and nearly jumped out of my skin when everyone I knew leaped out.”
Kate rested his hand on his. “Yeah. I… After Danny, I…” She struggled to find the right words, but finally just pressed her lips together and rested her head on his shoulder.
After a moment, he lifted his water bottle to his lips. Kate climbed back onto the dock, and together, they loaded the seven remaining tanks into their slots then started filling them with air.
As he tightened the connection on the final tank, Steve looked up at the horizon. “So, what’s the story with the kid’s mom?”
Kate shrugged. “Wish anybody knew. I mean, when she checked in, it seemed like she wanted to lay low. Didn’t give Chuck any personal info. She even let him do the fake name thing. But then she came up to the deck, helped out, talked to everyone, so it wasn’t like she was straight hiding.
“Then when we were all downtown for the Hemingway contest — and even though he’ll never admit it, I think Chuck is more than a little disappointed he had to drop out of that — she asked us to watch the kid while she went to find a bathroom, and boom. She was gone. Never came back.”