A quick check of my watch told me it was time to prepare for dinner. I stood, stretched, and glanced at the cottage next to mine. The lounger was empty; the book lay open, face down. Determined as I was not to give notice to my neighbor, I was disgusted with myself for even looking and hastily headed into my cottage.
As I dressed for dinner, I wondered how I would like the meal situation. With a few exceptions–home visits and the occasional friend hanging about for company–I hadn’t shared a table with anyone but myself in two years.
As I began to undress and prepare for a shower, I got the oddest feeling I wasn’t alone. For a moment I even paused and glanced around. The window shade was closed and the curtain drawn shut. It was impossible for someone to be watching me. As I continued to stand and wait, a cold concentrated mass of air blew past me, rattling the door to my bedroom, which was firmly closed. I caught my breath and remained still, willing myself into calm. Warning chills traveled my spine and made the hairs on my neck stand up. I tried to feel it out but then it was gone, as suddenly as it arrived. Well, guess that was a preliminary to what this vacation was going to bring. Good. I needed the diversion. Who better than a ghost?
CHAPTER SIX
As I started up the gravel path to the main house, I saw Mr. Sinclair come out of his cottage. Our two private paths eventually merged and I slowed my pace so as not to arrive at the merging point the same time as he did. Although I kept my gaze straight ahead, I could see through peripheral vision that he was glancing repeatedly in my direction. I needed a stall tactic. The flowers! I stopped walking and made like a horticulturist on a new discovery. To be fair, the rose bushes were lovely. They deserved my sudden, enthralled attention. After a slight pause as if trying to decide on whether to wait for me or not, Mr. Sinclair continued on to the house. Good. Meeting him over a crowded table was one thing, running into him here on a quiet path was another. My reluctance concerning him was quite strong and made me uncomfortable. I had no idea why and did not want to explore the possible reasons.
Nancy met me in the spacious hallway that was carpeted with muted woodsy colors. Lovely landscapes adorned the light green walls. She walked with me to the dining room, gesturing toward the paintings when she noted my interest. “Lovely aren’t they? Kade Sinclair painted each and every one.” She stopped near a set of open double doors and indicated I should precede her into the spacious dining room. “So, are you all settled in now, Tess?”
Glad for the distraction of our discussion, I allowed a quick glance at the other occupants in the room, already seated at the table and all focused in our direction. “Yes, I love the cottage and I know that I am going to enjoy my stay here.” To the best of my ability I would enjoy it anyway.
Raymond caught my eye and waved in welcome as I followed Nancy around the table. I smiled back and then focused on the lovely table, set with plain but elegant white china. Whatever I did, I was not going to allow my gaze to stray toward Mr. Sinclair who was seated next to Raymond. It was aggravating that I even wanted to look and told myself it was nothing more than curiosity. Who wouldn’t be curious about someone who could paint like that? Nancy headed for the empty chair across from her nephew and to the right of a man about Nancy’s age who was sitting at the head of the table. I was willing to bet he was her husband. I settled into the empty chair beside Nancy and across from Mr. Sinclair. A quick glance around and I noted that the other end of the table was occupied by a woman. She was sixtyish and looked of Mexican descent. Her dark eyes met mine and were very direct, almost piercing. I quickly glanced away. Next to Mr. Sinclair sat another couple. They were a few years older than me and guessing from the intense way they were acting with each other––holding hands above the table and exchanging heated glances––I figured they were newly in love.
Nancy touched my arm. “Tess, this is my husband, Jack.” She indicated the man next to her and he immediately smiled a greeting, half rising from his seat to shake my offered hand.
Nancy’s husband was of medium build, perhaps beginning to put on some weight, had light brown hair that was beginning to turn gray and cut neatly around a handsome face. He had a no-nonsense look about him and gave me the impression that he was very dependable and very astute in a business-like way. His eyes were light blue and friendly.
“Hello, Mrs. Schafer, it is nice to meet you. I hope you will enjoy your stay here with us at Sea Willow Haven.”
He had a mellow voice, soft and soothing. I smiled at him. “Thank you, Jack. You must call me Tess.”
Jack nodded, pleased that he could drop formalities. “Tess it is.” He glanced at the others around the table. “Allow me to make the introductions. You have probably met Raymond, my nephew?” When I shook my head that I had, he went on. “Raymond does a lot around here … you need anything and you can’t find us … find Raymond, he’ll be able to help I am sure.”
I met Raymond’s incredible blue eyes and nodded at him briefly before turning my attention, finally, to the man beside him. It was a bit of a shock to do so. Mr. Sinclair was hard. That is the only way I could initially describe him. His darkly tanned features were set in a grim manner, as if he were constantly at battle with some inner conflict. This I could understand, but I hoped it didn’t show on my face quite as well as it did on Kade Sinclair’s. His eyes were a very dark brown. They were perceptive eyes, sharp and intense. I could only meet them briefly. His brown hair was streaked with lightened strands. Obviously he spent a great deal of time outside. He was quite handsome actually and acknowledging this made me feel guilty for some reason. I thought Raymond was gorgeous but, oddly, didn’t feel guilty about thinking so. My eyes dropped down to Mr. Sinclair’s hands. They were strong hands with long fingers. Perfect painter hands.
"The man next to Raymond is Kade Sinclair. He is an ex-marine, fought over in Afghanistan, but now is out of the service and a famous local painter.” Jack’s voice held a reflection of deep respect. Obviously, Jack admired Kade immensely.
Mr. Sinclair looked at me in much the way I sat looking at him … interested, curious, but apprehensive and reserved. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Schafer.”
He had a deep voice that rumbled slightly. It gave me goose bumps and once again guilt gnawed at my consciousness. Mike had a deep voice as well and I used to love listening to him talk. Maybe that was why I felt so uncomfortable. “Please, everyone …” I glanced around the table, “call me Tess.”
“In that case, you must call me Kade.”
When I glanced at him again, our eyes met briefly. The message we gave each other in that brief glance was quite clear. He was letting me know as I him that we had no desire to deepen our acquaintance. “Kade, it is.” I turned my attention to the couple beside him and they immediately introduced themselves.
“My name is Andrea Rosen, Tess, and this is my husband Mike.”
My heart gave a little jolt. There were a lot of Mikes in the world but to hear someone say that … this is my husband Mike … words I would never speak again … it hurt. Moisture gathered in my eyes and I looked down at my plate so they would not see.
“We were married a few days ago and are on our honeymoon. We are from Chicago and this is our first visit to Maine.” Andrea’s friendly voice went on, unaware of my internal distress. “Mike and I work for an advertising agency and this is our first vacation together.”
“May we ask what you do, Tess?” Mike asked.
I looked up, met Mike’s eyes and was relieved to see they were brown … a soft brown, not an intense dark brown like Kade’s. His hair was blond, a slightly darker shade than Andrea’s. They were an attractive couple. Not model attractive, but pleasant and normal. They were friendly but reserved in a sophisticated sort of way. I began to relax. “I don’t do anything, M-Mike.” It was just a stumble, but I got through it. Still, the moisture stung my eyes and I figured I better explain or everyone at the table was going to think I was weird. “I’m sorry. My husband was killed a couple years ago … his name wa
s Mike … and I just …” My voice began to wobble and I was horrified that I was going to start crying.
Nancy gave my arm a comforting pat. “It’s okay, Tess. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through losing a husband so young.”
Andrea’s green eyes widened with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Tess.”
I did not look at Kade but I could feel his eyes on me. I blinked the tears away and forced out a smile. “Please … it was two years ago. It’s just on occasion something will remind me of him."
Mike’s voice was gentle when he spoke. “How did it happen?”
It was hard to speak around the tightness in my throat but somehow I managed to answer him. “A drunk driver plowed into his car and killed him instantly.”
“How awful to lose a loved one in such a way. And to a damned drunk.” Andrea reached across to me and I took her hand briefly. “They need to get tougher laws against people like that.”
I nodded in agreement but did not trust myself to speak. Finally, sure I was once again in control, I managed a reply. “He was killed as well so I guess there was some justice.” Then, because I couldn’t contain the bitterness, “The bastard should have lived, though. I would have preferred him maimed for life and living in misery.”
“A fitting punishment to be sure.” This from Kade. His low voice had an inflection in it that I couldn’t quite determine but it made me glance at him curiously. He wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the table before him, lost to visions flitting through his mind. His long-fingered hand looked tense as he shook the thoughts from his head and reached for his wine glass.
Nancy spoke hurriedly as if not liking the direction of the conversation. “The woman at the end of the table is Modesta Rodriguez. She runs the place more than Jack and I do. Mostly she manages the front desk but she has a handle on everything concerning the running of Sea Willow Haven.”
Thankful for the previous conversation to be over, I looked at Modesta and smiled at her. She returned my smile but her eyes were reserved, her expression somewhat distrustful. “Before you ask, I come to Maine when I was a child. My parents … they come to rake the berries, pick the apples.” She raised her rounded chin proudly. “I was born here, I be American. I live here all my adult life. I love Maine … but I don’t like to pick the berries.” She gave Nancy and Jack a warm look. “I love Sea Willow. This is more home to me than anyplace I ever live.”
“Berries?” I wondered at the reference.
“Blueberries.” She frowned at me as if disappointed that I didn’t know this already. “Maine has huge fields of blueberries all over the state. It is hard work to rake the berries.” She gave her chubby, short frame an exaggerated shiver to show her dislike of the job. “When I move to Maine, I come to the coast to work and the Morgans … they hire me right away.”
“Modesta worked for the previous owners and we were lucky enough to have her stay with us when we bought the place,” Nancy explained. “Modesta’s private quarters are the rooms up the stairs behind the front desk. My husband and I occupy the rooms at the east end of the house. We have ten other rooms on the west end that we rent out. At the moment we only have Andrea and Mike as house guests but many others arriving at the end of the week.” It was now Tuesday. “Raymond stays in one of our guest rooms in our private quarters.”
So this caught me up on everyone’s living arrangements. Honestly, though, as nice a place as Sea Willow Haven seemed to be, I wondered why it wasn’t fully booked? It was June after all.
As if reading my thoughts, Nancy said, “The summer season doesn’t really start here in Maine until mid-June.” She gave a small laugh. “It doesn’t actually start warming up here until July, though we’ve had very pleasant weather the past few days.”
“A welcome relief from the nearly two weeks of rain we got before that,” Jack added.
Modesta nodded gravely. “The storms here, they are very impressive … makes the waves loud and the sky angry.”
As I was terrified of thundershowers, a small shiver of apprehension quivered through me and I hoped that none occurred during my stay. The idea of being in that small cottage all alone during a storm was rather frightening.
Conversation was temporarily suspended when a couple of women entered the room who were obviously part of the kitchen staff. They placed several platters of food on the table and saw to it we all had our choice of drink. Nancy introduced them as Kate and Jane and explained that both women worked in the kitchen along with George, the resort’s chef.
Dinner was delicious and very filling, consisting of hot rolls, mashed potato, meatloaf, sweet corn and salad. During the meal, everyone talked pleasantly with each other and I found it to be quite nice to be part of something again. Too many times over the past two years I ate a small meal alone in a quiet house full of painful memories.
Andrea and Mike talked about their explorations around the area and Raymond talked about the tides and the status of sea life. Nancy proudly whispered to me during one of Raymond’s discourses on the lobster industry that Raymond wanted to be a Marine Biologist but was taking some time off after graduating recently from the University of Maine. Kade only spoke when asked a direct question; otherwise, he concentrated on his meal and listened to the talk around him. Nancy and Jack teased Raymond about his flock of admirers and gave Andrea and Mike suggestions on places to visit. The happy couple explained that they were determined to see as much of Maine as they could during their stay. As for myself, I had no intention of going anywhere. There was enough to see right here at the resort.
Once dinner was over and the dishes taken away, dessert followed, a delicious apple crisp served with freshly made vanilla ice cream. As I finished everything on my plate and noted how uncomfortably full I was beginning to feel (I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten this much at one sitting), it occurred to me that the few pounds I lost over the past two years were going to put in a quick reappearance during my stay here.
As soon as I finished with my dessert, I excused myself from the table and headed for the back gardens. Though I enjoyed the company, I was now ready for some quiet time and a cigarette.
My quiet time, however, was interrupted almost immediately by Kade’s sudden appearance. “Mind if I have a smoke with you?” He didn’t wait for my reply but lit up a cigarette and leaned against the edge of the fountain well that I was admiring when he showed up. I particularly liked how the fountain’s spray spewed forth from the snouts of two entwined dolphin statues. The well was lit with a soft blue light.
“I’m sorry about your husband.” His deep voice spoke quietly, softening the words.
“Yeah … me too. I lost my dog as well … Tootsie.”
He gave a sympathetic nod. “I had a dog for a while that I was quite fond of … Dibs.” He took a long drag of his cigarette. “I still miss him.”
Uncomfortable with the fact I was sharing sympathies with someone, a stranger at that–a man no less–I decided it was time to go. I did not want to develop a friendship with Kade and quite honestly, I don’t think that was his intention either. “I better get back to the cottage.”
“I saw you typing earlier … are you a writer?”
His question gave me a start. For some reason I could not even begin to explain, I did not want to share with him the fact that I had indeed started my first story. Especially as I wasn’t really sure where I was going with it. “I’ve written in the past … magazine articles and such, but haven’t written anything lately.” That really didn’t answer his question but I felt no obligation to confide in him and neither did I want to.
He nodded, pushed himself up from his perch and flicked out his cigarette. Obviously he got my nonverbal message that I didn’t want to talk. “Have a good night.”
As I watched him walk briskly back to the house, I wondered if I angered him and then dismissed the thought. It didn’t really matter, even if I did. I came here to be alone. Giving a little sigh, I put out my cigarette, thoug
ht that maybe this was a good time to quit, and started walking to the cottage.
It was a relatively calm night, the constant ocean breeze almost wistful in its effort as if Mother Nature didn’t quite have it in her tonight. The waves came to shore in mellow rolls, splashing lazily against the rocks. The peacefulness of it all lulled my consciousness into calm. I was halfway to my cottage when a shivery feeling swept over me. Startled, I swung around and scanned the area slowly hoping to hone in on the disturbance. The sense of being watched was so strong, I wondered if it were perhaps coming from someone in our realm and not that of the afterlife. A confusing thought in itself, for I could usually tell. After a few quiet moments, I glanced up at the turret window on the third floor. Nothing there that I could see, but that didn’t mean anything. I stared at the window for several minutes and focused on trying to connect with the presence I instinctively felt was there. Nothing. Heaving a tired, disappointed sigh, I finally turned away. When they were ready, they’d show themselves. Until then, I needed to relax and allow things to take their course.
Although the sun had set a short time earlier, the moon was nearly full as it hung suspended over the water, casting a muted glow across its rippling surface. Here near the shore, the breeze was cooler. The sweater I had tossed on earlier was no longer providing sufficient warmth and I hurried along to my cottage, grateful for the small solar garden lights that lit my path. Soon as I entered my cottage, I made myself a pot of coffee from the few supplies provided by the resort and waited patiently for it to perk while staring out the large picture window. The cottage was close enough to shore that I could hear the flow and ebb of the waves even though the window and door were closed. This place was going to be good for me. It truly was soothing to the soul and I could already feel a lot of negative energy draining out of me. I should have done this a year ago. Before that I wouldn’t have been ready.
Be Still, My Love Page 5