She loved nights like this when the stars glinted overhead like diamonds poised to rain down in glittering clusters. The decorated night sky made the air pop like crystal glass.
She made her way down Crescent, crossed Ocean Street, and found the stairs down to the stretch of rocky shoreline. High tide told her it might be difficult to walk in the dark so she found one of the large boulders near the pier where she could sit and clear her mind.
It hit her then. She needed to have her head examined. What had she been thinking to blow so much money on a picture of an Irish landmark much like one she had taken herself some years back? If only she could remember where exactly that photo was now. Probably buried in the storage unit she paid for every month back in Bakersfield with the rest of her junk.
If she kept squandering her cash on stupid stuff she’d never save enough to buy her own place.
And agreeing to go see the old helicopter with the hunky Cooper? Another stupid move on her part.
“Why do you always question yourself like this?” Scott asked from his spot near the end of the wooden pylons as the water swirled around his legs.
Eastlyn jumped at the voice. “What the hell? You scared the crap out of me. Warn a person next time you’re in the vicinity. Make some noise or something so I’ll know you’re there before sneaking up on me in the dark.”
“Sorry. It’s a nice night for being under the stars.”
“Aren’t you poetic? You look familiar.” She tilted her head to study the man and decided the friendly approach was best, so she introduced herself. “Now it’s your turn.”
“You don’t know who I am?”
“Should I? Oh wait. You’re the guy I saw staying out at Promise Cove the same time I was there. Are you new in town, too?”
“Not exactly.”
Alarm bells started to go off. How did he get in the water if the crunch of rocks on shore didn’t alert her to his walking around? She’d heard no splash or splatter, just the hard waves battling the boulders.
It hit her then that she was sitting in the dark with a total stranger in close proximity who appeared to have an agenda. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “It’s a little late to play twenty questions.”
“I’m Scott Phillips.”
“I’ve heard that name,” Eastlyn admitted, wrinkling her brow in thought. Her shoulders relaxed a little. “There’s a Phillips Park over on Main. One of your relatives?”
“Not exactly.”
“Are you always this mysterious, Scott Phillips? Do you always wander around town in the middle of the night?”
“To tell you the truth, I find it’s the best time to roam around and…check things out.”
That creepy feeling returned. Her eyes darted to the right to quickly find the best escape route. She tried to judge how long it would take her to get down from the rock and take off running. Maybe it was best to keep him talking while she prepared to do that. “Really? What are you checking out exactly?”
Scott smiled. “There’s no need to be afraid of me. Your father’s death wasn’t on you. Sometimes it’s a person’s time to go and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“What are you talking about? How do you know anything about my father?”
Scott went on, unfazed at the questions. “You didn’t start taking pills or drinking because you lost your leg even though it was a painful experience. No one knows you got hooked on the Vicodin after your father died. You’d had an argument with him because he didn’t understand why you couldn’t stay in the army. If you couldn’t have your old job flying Black Hawks for the army, you didn’t want a desk job. He called you a wuss because of it. You said things you regretted. But then so did he. I have news for you, Eastlyn Parker. You’re not the first strong person who’s come unglued because of guilt.”
“How do you know all this shit about me? Have you been talking to Kaeden?”
Scott shook his head, stuck his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. “Do you know why you’re here? In Pelican Pointe?”
“Yeah, to get Nick and Cord off my back.”
“No. You’re here for an entirely different reason. Something big is about to happen and you’re part of it.”
“Get real.”
“You’re not in Pelican Pointe to heal yourself, Eastlyn. You’re here to help someone else. Life isn’t always about you.”
When she started to object to that and rise off the rock, she watched the man vanish out of the water and into the night.
In a matter of seconds, he’d gone poof.
“Son of a bitch. What just happened? No pills. I haven’t taken a single pill. I didn’t even drink a beer before I went to bed.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Now you’re hallucinating. You’re talking to yourself. Sheesh, no wonder they won’t let you fly anymore.”
Seven blocks from the beach Cooper had fallen asleep in the leather recliner in his living room, his nose stuck in a book. This time it was a hardcover delving into the history of the Black Hawk helicopter that he’d picked up after learning the attractive blonde had flown that type of aircraft.
At two-thirty something woke him and made him abruptly sit up. As he tried to get the kinks out of a stiff neck, the book on his lap fell to the tile floor with a thud.
To retrieve it, he had to get to his feet. He stretched his back and took a few steps before realizing he was no longer alone.
He snatched up the book and glanced toward the Kiva fireplace on the other side of the room, only to see Scott Phillips standing in front of it.
“In the months you’ve lived here, you’ve done wonders with this place. I used to know the Ashford family who lived here. They had a daughter named Jane Ellen, gorgeous brown eyes.”
Cooper rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “This is what you woke me up for, to listen to your nostalgic ramblings about your teen lust? I knew Jane Ellen. But when I knew her she was ten years older and married to an asshole, the town bully.”
“We aren’t all lucky in love. God knows Jane Ellen wasn’t.”
“Whatever happened to Bolton Waters anyway?”
“You mean after Ethan Cody stopped him from beating on his wife the fourth time?”
“Let me guess, Jane Ellen refused to press charges.”
“Sadly, that’s often the case. It’s difficult to figure out why that is. But ol’ Bolton eventually ended up getting arrested for cooking meth. Luckily, Ethan and Brent’s combined efforts put him behind bars for ten years. That was after you headed out of town for greener pastures though. There’s still a meth problem outside of town.”
“And? Why wake me up to have this conversation now?”
Unfazed by his defensive posture, Scott went on, “Did you know that government research shows female veterans commit suicide at six times the national average of other women? Since the Iraq War the numbers have skyrocketed with servicemen in general, but the statistics reveal women veterans have now surpassed their male counterparts in one distinctive category—they take their own life in greater numbers.”
Cooper ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose it’s no coincidence that the only female veteran we know in town is Eastlyn Parker. Which means you think Eastlyn is suicidal.”
“She’s a lot like you are—riddled with guilt.”
“You already know she came into my shop this afternoon. She didn’t give off any suicidal vibes to me. Besides, the woman’s entitled to her own troubled past. That’s what a lot of people don’t understand. You get to this stage in life, early thirties, and each of us carries around our own set of heavy, useless baggage. You should know that better than most.”
“Just because I know it, doesn’t mean I’ll let good people spiral down a destructive path without trying to do something to stop it. Eastlyn’s had it tough enough already without me, or you, sitting on the sidelines and watching it happen. Why shouldn’t we try to help her?”
Cooper rolled his eyes. The two had gone back and forth on t
his for weeks, ever since Scott had appeared to him in the train store wanting to discuss this same topic. “I still have no idea how you got her to come to Pelican Pointe in the first place. She doesn’t exactly seem like the type of person who’d settle for farming a strip of land up at the lighthouse or working part-time driving a forklift for my uncle.”
“I got you to come back, didn’t I? And look how that’s turned out.”
“It’s annoying the way you think you’re never wrong. You know that? The know-it-all Scott Phillips, who drives a person over the edge.”
Scott bobbed his head in affirmation. “I know. It must be annoying because I’m always right. I just wish I didn’t have to go through this tap dance every time to convince the parties involved.”
“What makes you think you can save everyone?”
“What makes you want to give up before we try?” Scott shot back.
“That’s another annoying habit you have of answering a question with a question. I’m going to bed.”
Cooper shoved the book toward him. “Meanwhile study up on Black Hawks. Something tells me it’ll be important down the road if you want to get through to her.”
Three
It wasn’t until later that night when Eastlyn couldn’t get back to sleep that she remembered where she’d seen the name Scott Phillips. Her faculties might not have been at their best when she checked into Promise Cove initially, but there was nothing wrong with them now. Scott Phillips’ name had been right there on the sign at the bed and breakfast—something about how he founded the inn in 2009.
“An interesting story there,” Eastlyn muttered.
But it had been a flesh and blood man she’d seen on the beach. What did that mean?
She mulled that over most of the night until she finally got dressed for work and made her way across the courtyard to the clinic. She let herself in at five-thirty and went directly back to the post-op area to check on the Delacourt dogs, Jax and Jazz. The pooches had undergone a spaying procedure the day before.
Eastlyn opened the enclosure, noticed the two were livelier than they’d been when she checked on them at ten o’clock last night. Both doggies came over to lick her fingers.
She used both hands to scratch ears and rub backs. “Well, girls, how are we doing this morning?” Eastlyn took hold of Jax’s snout and gazed into her big brown eyes. She did the same with Jazz. “Hmm, you both still look a little wobbly to me. Let’s put off breakfast until the doc gets here and gives his okay. Drink some water instead. You’re bound to have dry throats from the anesthetic.”
She filled the water bowls and checked on the other animals—Jill and Ross Campbell’s reddish brown cat they called Milkdud, and a silky Siamese named Felicia belonging to Emma Colter.
After spreading out food for Milkdud and Felicia, she made a point to wait around so she could corner Cord as soon as he got to work.
At six-forty-five, she got her chance when she heard his truck pull into the driveway. As soon as his feet hit the cement, she was right there with questions.
“Who is Scott Phillips exactly? I need to know what’s going on around here.”
“Good morning to you, too,” Cord mumbled, picking up on her agitated state. Reaching back to grab his laptop bag, he added, “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You had your first encounter with Scott. That took a few weeks longer than we expected.”
“Now see, that’s what I mean. Encounter? Is that code or something? And what exactly took longer? I couldn’t sleep last night so I went for a walk on the beach. There the guy was just standing in the water.”
“He wasn’t walking on the water, was he?” Cord cracked. “Because that would be a new one.”
She gave him a fake smile. “Very funny. What the man did was go poof right in front of me.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis in front of Cord’s face. “Just like that, the man disappeared. And before you accuse me of using again, I most certainly was not. No pills in over three months. I’ve had the occasional beer but I haven’t been drunk, not once. I’ve been working my ass off…”
Cord made his way to the front door of the clinic and stopped. “Calm down. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’ve been there.” He tilted his head, stared at the bags under her eyes. “You look like you had a rough night.”
“Gee, just what every female longs to hear. Your wife must be such a lucky woman to have you to sweet-talk your way into a romantic situation.”
“Typical pilot smartass. Do you want my help or not?”
“You know I do.”
“Then you really should go talk to Nick and Jordan about this. They’re the experts on Scott. They could explain it to you a lot better than I ever could.”
Not willing to be put off until she could do that, she pushed him. “How would this guy know personal stuff about me though? How? Did you or Nick tell him shit about me? Have Nick and that Ben person been talking about me?”
Cord shook his head. “Look, you’re working yourself up into a snit again. Wrong move. I don’t know any easy way to say this so I’ll just be blunt. Scott Phillips died in Iraq the same day you flew Nick out of that hell zone.”
“Okay, so he has a brother. The guy I saw must’ve been Scott’s brother.”
Cord shook his head again. “No. Scott was an only child who lost his parents at the age of five. After that he came to Pelican Pointe to live with his grandparents. He grew up in the house where Promise Cove is now. Once his grandparents died, Scott never had any family until Jordan and Hutton came along.”
That gave Eastlyn pause. “Hutton’s his? Interesting. Then what I saw last night had to be a figment of my imagination, a hallucination of some kind brought on by withdrawal. Sure, that’s it. I must’ve seen his pictures out at the inn and just banked the photos in my head…” When she saw the look on Cord’s face, she protested, “What I saw last night isn’t possible.”
“You justify it any way you want. But the same thing’s happened to a lot of other people around here, including me.”
“You see Scott?”
“All the time.”
“But he’s dead.”
“Next time you see him, be sure to bring that up. Sometimes he forgets that little nugget. I’m sure that info will get a laugh out of him.”
“I’ve landed in the Twilight Zone,” Eastlyn said, running her hand through the unruly waves of hair she hadn’t bothered to brush.
“More like The Sixth Sense. You know, a bunch of ghosts who don’t know they’re already dead. I always loved that movie.”
“How can you joke about this?”
“I’m used to it. Him. I’m used to seeing Scott around town. He’s the reason Nick and I drove to Bakersfield.”
“What? Why?”
“He urged us to go to there and see if we could talk you into coming here to start your life over.”
“You mean you do everything Scott tells you to do?”
“Mostly. It’s easier that way than to bump heads with him in the middle of the night when he shows up, unannounced, scares the bejesus out of you and refuses to leave you in peace. Plus, Scott has this annoying habit of being right all the time.”
Cord ignored the look on her face and shifted gears. “By the way, I meant to mention this earlier, thought I’d let you settle in a little bit first. There’s an AA meeting every Sunday afternoon at the church. It’s such a small group that we’ve managed to merge into a get-together for both recovering alcoholics and those with substance abuse problems, a place to pour your heart out if need be. Most Sundays I manage to make it over there before they finish up. That is, if I’m not tending to an emergency. You’re welcome to join us.”
“You? Had a problem?”
“Me. Have. I’ll always be an alcoholic who takes antidepressants every single morning. My dad says it runs in the family.”
“I had no idea. Look, I appreciate you thinking of me. But it hasn’t been all that long for me out of rehab and I’m still managing to follow
the program pretty well on my own without outsiders listening to my heartfelt story. So I think I’m good to go.”
“Suit yourself. Just remember the group is there, if or when, you need to talk.”
Eastlyn left it at that. But on her way to work, she decided to swing by Phillips Park just to reaffirm to herself that the whole thing was real, that Scott was really dead and she couldn’t possibly have talked to him on the beach.
When she pulled up at the curb, she didn’t even bother getting out of the Bronco. Instead, she stared at the entrance where a plain wooden sign with the words, Phillips Park, hung between two stone pillars, metal lanterns on top of each post. It was a simple, yet powerful memorial from the town to a war veteran.
As she sat there on Main Street, she began to think back to her first week at the inn. There had been little things she’d been unable to explain while staying there, especially at night. She recalled the first time she’d taken a walk on the beach at the cove, hidden below the cliffs. While there, she remembered feeling as though someone had been watching her. At the time, she’d chalked it up to a deep-seated anxiety at starting over in a new place, in new surroundings. Then, there was the night she’d heard whispering outside her door. When she got up to investigate the sound, the hallway had been empty. She considered the fact that she might be headed for the loony bin when she’d misplaced her dad’s army dog tags, which she carried with her wherever she went. Strangely, they had turned up the morning she checked out.
It might not add up to much. But then she included the incidents where she’d actually spotted Scott Phillips. Not knowing his name, he’d looked as real then as he had last night.
After some thought, she took out her phone, dialed the number for Promise Cove, decided Cord was right. It was best to ask the source.
Eastlyn didn’t make it to the bed and breakfast until six-thirty that evening, a good twelve hours after her conversation with Cord.
When she made the turn down the narrow lane toward the inn, she slowed her speed past the apple-green sign where Scott’s name appeared.
Lavender Beach Page 4