“Ahoy,” I said as Sully tossed me the rope. “Fancy meeting you here.” I wrapped the rope around the cleat.
“Figured I’d take you for a ride,” he said.
“Will you also feed me?”
He nodded at a picnic basket.
Pretty stinkin’ romantic.
I put Boomer inside, apologized for not bringing him, grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses, and went back out. Sully handed me in, untied the boat and came aboard.
“Nice boat,” I said. It was—varnished wood, two seats behind the wheel, a bench in the stern and two outboard motors. Enough space between the wheel and the back bench for more people, fishing gear or, maybe, to stretch out and look at the stars and smooch a cute guy, if one were prone to that kind of thing. And yes, there was a blanket sitting under the picnic basket.
I sat in the passenger’s seat, and Sully got behind the wheel. “This is my grandfather’s boat,” he said. “A 1959 Penn Yan angler. He used to take us out on it to fish or to tie in Portland or Bar Harbor for the day. It’s not much in bad weather, but she’ll do just fine for tonight.” He glanced at me, and I smiled.
We purred out of the cove and headed east. The sky was raspberry pink now, deepening with every minute.
There was the boatyard with its docks and moorings. I touched Sully’s arm. “Does Audrey know we’re on a date?” I asked.
“Ayuh. Her idea to go out on the boat. Away from the mosquitoes, she said.”
“Tell her thanks for me.”
A light went on in one of the boatyard buildings. I touched Sullivan’s arm again so he’d look at me. “Does Luke know we’re on a date?”
He nodded and offered no more.
We rounded the western side of the island and passed Osprey Point. I could see Deerkill Rock, where Dad, Lily and I used to jump into the water. My heart curled in on itself, picturing Poe jumping from that height. But we’d never gotten hurt. I had to give him that, even if it had only been a matter of time.
The sky was violently red now, and from the water, the island looked so beautiful, the golden slabs of rock, the pine trees silhouetted against the sky. Scupper was beautiful.
Funny how I’d never missed the island. Now I couldn’t imagine being away from it, the smell of sun-warmed pine needles and salt, the pure air and cold water, the call of the loons at night.
I hope you’re at peace, Daddy.
We headed out to sea. As the color seeped into the horizon, stars started to emerge like magic—first the North Star, then the Big Dipper, then so many at once the sky went from navy to purple. The Milky Way in all its endless, mysterious glory.
Sully cut the engines, got out of his seat and dropped the anchor. Then he spread out the blanket and ran a hand through his hair.
He didn’t say anything. He might’ve been feeling shy.
I got up, too, uncapped the wine (a screw top, always thinking) and poured us each a glass.
“Have a seat,” he said.
We sat on the blanket opposite each other, our legs stretched out on the floor of the boat. Audrey was right. There were no mosquitoes.
“You hungry?” he asked. I shook my head.
“There’s a light I can put on if you want.”
“No, this is fine. This is beautiful.”
There was a pause. “It’ll be hard for me to know what you’re saying if I can’t see your face.”
I got up and moved to his left side, where his hearing was better. “How’s this?” I asked, taking his hand.
“This is just fine.” He cleared his throat. “What’s new with you?”
“Oh, let’s see. My mom’s in love with Donna Krazinski, and my father died seventeen years ago.”
He looked at me a second, then kissed my temple and pulled me a little closer, so my head rested on his hard shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that. The second thing, that is. I already knew about the first thing.”
I smiled, even though tears seemed to be leaking out of my eyes.
For a while, we just sat there, the rocking of the boat familiar, thanks to my houseboat, but more pronounced at sea than in the cove. My tears stopped, and my hand rested over Sullivan’s heart, feeling the steady, slow thud. The boat bobbed up and down, little waves slapping against the hull. The stars were blazing now.
When my wine was gone, and Sully’s was, too, I took our glasses, put them on the bench, climbed onto his lap and kissed him.
His hands slid into my hair, and he angled my head a little. The kiss was warm and long and perfect, his mouth moving gently against mine. He tasted like wine, and I slid my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, a heavy, wonderful shiver moving through my bones, making me hold on a little tighter.
When we broke the kiss, we just looked at each other for a minute. Then he smiled, that irresistible half smile, and I found myself smiling back. “I’m glad we’re not just friends,” he said.
“Now that you mention it, me, too.”
He touched the tip of my nose with one finger.
We lay back, just holding hands for the moment, and stared up at the sky. The bottom of the boat was hard under my back, but I didn’t care. In this moment, I was completely, utterly happy, and moments like that don’t come around too often.
“You all done with your old boyfriend?” Sullivan asked.
“Ayuh.”
“You sure?”
“Very sure. He’s a bit...” I paused.
“Of a dick?”
I snorted. “Well, that, too.” I paused. “Arrogant. I think there was a part of him that really liked charging in after the home invasion. The whole white-knight thing, being so needed, having everyone tell him how wonderful he was. But he got bored with it.” I paused. “And me. I can’t blame him, though. I got bored with me, too.”
“So what changed?”
“I got hit by a van.”
“Jesus.” He laughed. I did, too.
“Yeah. Beantown Bug Killers. Such a metaphor.” I didn’t need to tell him about the grayness, making amends, being closer to my mom. I had the idea he already knew. “So I came back here.”
“Good.”
“You’re a man of few words, Sullivan Fletcher.”
“It helps with that air of mystery and sex appeal.”
“It’s working. What about you? You must’ve dated after Amy.”
He linked his fingers through mine and ran a finger up and down my arm, making my girl parts hum. One finger, ladies and gentlemen. I knew our mediocre sex had been a fluke. “Yeah, I dated a little. But once Audrey came to live with me full-time, not so much.”
“Can I ask you something I’ve wondered about since we were fifteen?”
His smile flashed in the darkness. “Sure.”
“Why her?”
His finger continued trailing up and down my arm. “She’s not exactly how she seems,” he said. “There’s a lot of sweetness there.” He paused. “You weren’t exactly how you seemed back then, either.”
“No, I was. I was miserable and lonely and an outcast.”
“Okay, yeah. I remember. But you were also smart and funny and good with people.”
“Good with people... You mean, like getting shoved in the hallway or having spitballs in my hair or getting picked last for gym every fucking class?”
He squeezed my hand. “You were great with teachers. And at the Clam Shack with the tourists. We worked together. I got to see you in action.”
“Ah, the Clam Shack. Nothing like smelling like grease on top of everything else I had going for me.”
“You barely remember me, do you?” he said, and he was smiling. Flirting, even. “Too busy being in love with my brother.”
I put my free hand over my eyes. “I’d like to invoke my right to the fifth amendment. And I certainly
do remember you.”
He laughed again, and it was such a turn-on, low and dirty, like he knew all my secrets. Which he probably did.
“Sometimes,” I said, tracing a finger along his cheek, “sometimes it takes a few years before you understand what you’re worth. And who’s worth your time.”
We were kissing again, lips and tongue, and his hand wandered down my side and back up. My fingers slid through his hair and down his neck, and he felt so good, so solid and warm and delicious. The sounds of the ocean, of kissing, of just the two of us blended together. I hoped Sully could hear. I hoped this would be one of the things he’d remember when his hearing left him completely.
I don’t know what time it was when we stopped. It had been a long time since I’d had a make-out session like that. Far too long.
“I told Audrey I’d be back tonight,” Sully said, dropping a kiss on my chin.
“Okay.” We just looked at each other for a minute. “I think you’re probably the best person I know, Sullivan Fletcher.”
“Does that mean we’re a thing?”
“Yes. We’re a thing.”
He grinned, and my heart tugged. Then he got off me (alas), started the engines, and underneath the majestic sky, he took me home.
27
On Wednesday, the clinic was slow. There seemed to be a feast-or-famine aspect to work here—we were either slammed, or we were twiddling our thumbs. So far my only patient had been a four-year-old hotel guest with a rash that was, I suspected, caused by a change in laundry detergent and not because he’d been stung by 999 invisible jellyfish, as he reported.
“That could be the cause,” I said somberly. “It’s unusual to find jellyfish in pools, especially the invisible kind. But if it is that, this cream will help.”
His mother smiled and thanked me, and I tousled the little guy’s hair, told him he was extremely brave and gave him a dolphin sticker. Another satisfied customer.
I went to the counter to fill out the forms. Gloria pretended I was invisible.
Okay, enough. “Gloria,” I said, “don’t you hate when two women have a really nice friendship going on, and then that friendship is ruined because of a guy?”
It took her five full seconds to look at me. “I’m sorry. I just happen to think that what you did to Robert was really horrible.”
“What did I do?”
“He was there for you when you went through this—” she made finger quotes “—‘bad time,’ and then you dumped him when he was the one who needed a little moral support.”
“Did he happen to tell you what my ‘bad time’ was?” I asked, also using finger quotes.
“No. He still respects your privacy. He said you were feeling insecure.”
“That’s one word for it. A man broke into my home, beat the shit out of me, tried to rape me and was going to kill me. With a knife.”
Her face drained of color, and her mouth fell open. It was satisfying.
“So yeah. I was probably a little needy after that. After I got out of the hospital. I was probably a little jumpy because they never caught him. As far as our breakup, that was all Bobby’s doing. Ask him about a coworker named Jabrielle.”
Gloria was frowning now. She started to bite a fingernail, then stopped.
“Here’s the last thing, Gloria. I’m glad not to be with Bobby anymore. I really am. I’m very happy these days. If you guys are having fun together, good for you. I honestly don’t care. But lose the bitchy attitude. Don’t be one of those women.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, allowing me to exit on a high note. “Excuse me,” I said and walked to the lounge.
It was Audrey. “Hey,” she said. “Have you heard from Poe?”
“No. Isn’t she at the boatyard?”
“She was. She got a phone call, and she just flew outta here. She had her bike, and she was really upset.”
“Did she say who it was?”
“No. She just started crying and ran.” Audrey paused. “She was really, really upset.”
My free hand was clenched. “Okay, honey. If you see her or hear from her, let me know, okay? Thanks for calling.”
There was only one person who could have that effect on my Poe.
Lily.
I called my mom at the hotel, but Donna answered the phone. “She just went home, sweethaht,” she said. “Said she had to speak to Poe.”
My mother didn’t answer her cell. I called the house, but there was no answer.
Something bad had happened. Something with Lily. I closed my eyes and sent up a silent prayer to our father. Let her be okay. Watch over Poe.
Not that he’d been very good at watching over anyone.
I must’ve looked distressed because when I stuck my head in Amelia’s office, she said, “Oh, no. Are you all right?”
“I need to leave. Family emergency.”
“Call if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Amelia.” I ran out to my little car, glad it was raining and I hadn’t ridden my bike. I drove as fast as I dared, my heart thudding, my brain shutting the door against any of the big, horrible thoughts that banged on it.
I got to Mom’s in record time and ran inside. My mother sat at the kitchen table, a notebook and the big old phone next to her.
“It’s Lily,” she said without preamble. “There was a fight at the prison. She stabbed another inmate.”
“Oh, God.” I sank into the chair next to my mom. “Is she okay?”
“The other girl had to go to the hospital. Should be all right. But...” My mother tilted her head to look out the window, and it was a few seconds before she spoke again. Her voice was steady when she did. “Lily’s in solitary. The fight added years to her sentence. At least five, the lawyer said.”
I closed my eyes.
My sister would miss the rest of Poe’s fragile childhood. Would miss her first date, prom, college applications, turning eighteen, maybe turning twenty-one. She’d miss Poe getting her license, falling in love.
“What did you tell Poe?” I asked.
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to her,” Mom said. “The lawyer called her first. I tried her, but she’s not picking up.”
“Audrey Fletcher said she tore out of the boatyard, really upset.”
“Ayuh. I just got off the phone with Sullivan. I’m guessin’ she’s gonna try to get back to Seattle and see her mother.”
“Well, we live on an island, Mom. She can’t go far.” I took a deep breath. Thunder rolled across the sky. “Call Jake Ferriman and tell him not to take Poe anywhere.”
“Good idea.”
“Call the police, too. Just so they know. Have them alert the marina that a blue-haired girl might be trying to get a ride to Portland.”
“Smaht.” She gripped my hand. “Thanks, Nora. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’ll check my place, okay? Maybe Poe went there.” I tried to sound calm, but in reality, I was trying not to throw up.
Oh, Lily. You were so close to getting out. You had only a few more weeks! What the hell have you done?
Mom got up and called Jake. I called Poe, but it went right to voice mail, so I left a message, then texted the same thing.
I know you’re upset right now. Call me, honey. I love you.
“Let me know if you hear anything, Mom,” I said. She nodded, and I went back to my car and drove to Oberon Cove, pulled into my little space and ran down the dock. Boomer jumped up from where he was lying on the top deck and woofed happily.
“Poe?” I said, bursting into the house. “Poe, honey?” I checked my room, her room. I’d picked her flowers the last time she slept over—three nights ago—and they were still there, dahlias and orange geranium leaves.
Rain started to fall, hard and angry. What did you do to my girl, Lily? How could you?
> Poe wasn’t on the top deck, either.
“Come on, Boomer,” I said, and he followed me down the stairs, back into the car.
I called my mom, told her I was going downtown and would take a look around for Poe, check in with the storekeepers and lobstermen.
Wait a minute.
I called Sullivan. “Where’s Luke?” I asked tersely.
“He’s power-washing the Donovans’ sailboat. I can see him from here.” We both knew why I was asking. “Any luck yet?”
“No. Sorry, Sullivan.”
“It’s all right. You had to ask. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
“Good luck, honey.”
The endearment brought tears to my eyes.
At the ferry, I showed Jake a picture of Poe I had on my phone—her and Audrey, from the sleepover—to make sure he knew who was missing. “I’ll keep an eye out,” he said, hitching up his pants.
“Thanks, Jake.”
I went into the bookstore and Lala’s and the restaurants, and asked the same questions each time. Have you seen this girl? She’s upset. Her name is Poe. Blue hair. Ask her to call her aunt or grandmother if you see her.
The last stop on the street was the general store and post office. I braced for Teeny Fletcher’s bitchery.
“Teeny, my niece—”
“I heard all about it. Audrey just called me.” She looked at me with that sour face. “Good luck finding her. Let us know if you need anything.”
I blinked. “Thank you.”
I got back in my car and gripped the steering wheel hard. Where else could I look? The high school? I guess she might go there. The grammar school playground, maybe? Boomer wagged his tail and snuffled my ear. “Not now, buddy,” I said, pushing his big head away.
I glanced out at the harbor. Tide was dead low, just about to change. The moon was full, so it’d be awfully high tonight.
And then I knew. I knew where she was.
I floored it through town, down Perez Avenue, past the high school, down Route 12, which had never made any sense to me, since the island didn’t have eleven other routes.
Now That You Mention It: A Novel Page 34