by J. S. Marlo
The country’s airspace had reopened for air traffic, major airlines had resumed their operations to and from Keflavik airport, and tourists had indeed begun swamping back, but he couldn’t care less about the tourists or their money. After spending hours searching for a departing flight, Bjorn had found one leaving Keflavik at 6:00 a.m. on July sixth. The day after tomorrow. “I’m flying to Canada on Wednesday. I’m going to see Rowan.”
Her hand slipped from the crook of his elbow onto her lap, and a ghostly shade of white washed over her shriveled face, erasing all the wrinkles. “You haven’t called her, have you?”
“No.” More times than he could count, he’d picked up the phone but never gathered the courage to dial the last number. “I need to see her in person.”
“She’s gone, Bjorn. She moved on.” Her voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper, and she sounded appalled by his decision. “Don’t make a fool of yourself by chasing her across the ocean. She’s only going to hurt you more.”
Nothing could hurt more than not understanding why she’d left him. He needed closure. “She owes me an explanation, Amma.”
“Please. I beg you.” Short raspy breaths whisked in and out of her mouth, and small tremors shook her frail body. “Let her go. She’s not worth the humiliation.”
“I can’t.” If he’d known his decision would upset his grandmother, he wouldn’t have told her, but he hadn’t wanted her to worry about not being able to reach him while he was gone. “I’m sorry you don’t approve.”
“I-I can’t breathe.” Visibly distressed, she gripped the edge of the seat with both hands and bent over.
“Amma?” He fought the panic rising inside his chest. “I’m calling an ambulance. Just stay calm.”
***
Rowan stared in disbelief at the man advancing thigh-deep into the ocean. After slowly swallowing the scar on his right leg, the water licked the hem of his cargo shorts. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like?” Stone rolled his eyes. “A midnight swim?”
Not with his clothes on. Flustered by the wayward thoughts sweeping through her mind, vestiges of her steamy dream, she forced her gaze up. “Go back. You’ll get wet.”
“Too late.” Another fleeting smile crossed his face. “Are you coming or not?”
“Not until the jellies retreat.”
“They won’t eat you, O’Reilly.” Exasperation pierced his voice. “Why did you want to fire Bill?”
Chalking up the question as a diversion tactic, she nevertheless graced him with a response. “Personality conflict. Sometimes he acts like he owns Buccaneer.” Like he owns me. “I have a feeling Aunt Mattie let him run the place.”
When he set foot on the beach, water splashed in her direction. Droplets trickled down his legs marred with red patches.
“The jellyfish stung you.” She approached him. “Let me look at—”
“No, you don’t. Catch.” He tossed his cane into her hand, then scooped her into his arms as though she were a weightless child.
“What do you think you’re—” On second thought, she clamped her mouth shut before he cut her off again. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, he’d decided to rescue her, even though she didn’t need rescuing.
“Hold on to me, O’Reilly, or we’ll both fall.”
Dreading the second scenario, she obediently wrapped her free arm around his neck. The muscles in his chest tightened as he tottered into the water. She inhaled slowly, absorbing his scent. Like Bjorn, he smelled of sandalwood and leather, and memories of their interlude inside the chamber flooded her mind once more.
“No choking, O’Reilly.”
The stern warning reined in her willful mind, and she promptly lessened her grasp around his neck, hugging the cane tighter against her side instead. “I didn’t know you could walk unassisted.”
“Me neither.”
The fear that her remark might have offended him vanished with the low grumbling in his throat. “What? You mean this is a test?” His misplaced pride would send them swimming with the marine monsters.
“Not a test—” His jaw hardened under the apparent effort each step cost him. “An experiment.”
“Semantics, Stone.” The shadow of a beard added to his roguish appearance. And when the inside of her bare forearm rubbed against his bristled chin, tiny delightful shocks prickled her skin. It’d been weeks—seven and a half sorrowful weeks—since someone had held her in his arms.
“Almost there, O’Reilly.”
The path drew near too quickly. She closed her eyes, willing time to stand still so she could recapture what she’d lost—if only for a few more seconds.
“You’re not fainting on me, are you?”
He didn’t need to worry about her, not unless he harbored secret feelings for—
The answer to his protective behavior swept through her mind like a rip current. Rachel. She reminded him of Rachel.
Through her eyelashes, she sneaked a peek. The intensity of his gaze stirred an aching in her heart. “I’m fine,” she murmured.
“Glad to hear.” Moments later, he gently lowered her onto the sandy slope. “You’re safe and dry.”
Dry? Yes. Safe? Not from you… “Why did you come to my rescue?”
Without looking at her, he sat on a boulder and rubbed wet sand over his legs. A home remedy against jellyfish stings, if her memory served her right, not that she trusted the tricks her memory was playing on her right now.
“I had no choice. You haven’t cleaned my room yet.”
Soft chuckles tickled her throat. The incident had showed her a side of Stone’s personality she’d never suspected existed. No wonder Gail found him charming. “Thank you.”
A brief smile softened his expression, and for an instant, he looked young and carefree. So much like Bjorn. “Let’s not try this again. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Done scraping sand, he gestured for her to climb ahead. She handed him his cane before taking the lead. Once on flat terrain, he trudged by her side, his gait not as laborious as she’d expected it to be after his trek in the water.
“You shouldn’t run alone.”
It sounded more like an observation than a criticism or reprimand, which pleased her. “And who do you suggest I run with? Gail?”
His brown eyes sparkled with amusement. “If you do, go easy on the poor woman, or you’ll give her a heart attack.”
As a RCMP officer, running would have been part of his daily routine. In his place, she’d miss not being able to feel the wind in her hair as she pushed her endurance to the limit. “I also love to walk along the cliff. If you need a break from your work, maybe we could—”
The thick brow he raised and the deep ridges creasing his forehead ended her clumsy invite. Throat dry from embarrassment, she swallowed hard and braced herself for an imminent rebuff.
“Sunrise or sunset?”
“Sun—what?”
In the afternoon sun, he towered over her by a full head. “Do you prefer to walk at dawn or at sunset?”
“Dawn,” she croaked, astounded by his response.
“Good. Tomorrow I’ll meet you bright and early.”
Chapter Twelve
The first ray of sunlight peeked through the attic window.
Accepting O’Reilly’s invitation for a walk had been foolish. Avery had no clue what had incited her to make the offer, but whatever it was, he had no intention of encouraging any interest toward him.
Seated on the edge of the mattress, he looked at his legs. The ointment that Gail insisted he use before bedtime had attenuated the rash caused by the jellyfish. Good woman.
Fueled by the small victory on the beach, he ignored the cane hanging from his bedpost and stood. Yesterday, pride and sheer willpower had stopped his leg from buckling while he’d carried O’Reilly. Today, eight unsteady steps brought him to his desk. He slumped in the chair and numbed the aching and throbbing with an early Red Eye.
With any luck, O’Reilly would have forgotten about their early walk. He donned a pair of shorts, a sleeveless shirt, and a pair of running shoes before grabbing his cane and heading downstairs. Alone in the kitchen, Gail was fixing breakfast.
“Good morning, Mr. S.” Bacon sizzled in a pan. “Will you have breakfast before or after your walk with Miss Rowan?”
News travels fast. Too late to change his mind, he feigned enthusiasm. “Is she up?”
“In the office, talking to Doctor Malcolm. From what I overheard, he asked her for another date.”
“Really?” The news left a sour taste in his mouth. “Maybe I should have breakfast.”
She handed him a cup of black coffee. “Have a seat before the Ruperts come down. The mother warned me last night that the children are early birds.”
On cue, the Rupert twins scuttled into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Gail,” they chanted, their shrill voices echoing each other’s.
“Hello, Miss Casey. Hello, Miss Molly.”
The identical eight-year-old girls sat side-by-side at the end of the table, shortly followed by their parents and little brother, Ryan. The family’s incessant chitchat chased Avery from the table as soon as he swallowed his last bite.
In the hallway, he met a smiling O’Reilly. Free from its ponytail, her hair cascaded on her shoulders.
“Ready, Stone?”
No. The sun had been up less than an hour, and already, he experienced social overload. “Do me a favor, O’Reilly, and don’t talk.”
“Why?”
“Never mind.” He followed her outside, and she led him through the garden into the woods. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere peaceful and quiet.” The silky intonation in her voice calmed his nerves. “If you don’t like it, we can go back to Buccaneer.”
An uneven path coursed along the stream, and water trickled down at a leisurely flow, matching his pace. Cautious of the roots sticking up from the ground, he alternated between using and ignoring his cane. The exercises he’d been taught at the rehabilitation clinic were easier to practice in the seclusion of the trees.
A serene expression enveloped O’Reilly. Once in a while, she glanced in his direction, no doubt to judge his progress, but to his relief, she didn’t slow down.
“Next time, we should bring a basket and have breakfast here.” The invitation flew out his mouth before he could stop it.
Spinning sideways on her heels, she blocked his path. Too slow to react, he bumped into her and dropped his cane. Wobbling unsteadily, he grabbed her shoulders for support.
Green eyes looked at him like he’d lost his marbles, which might not be too far from the truth.
“What did you say?”
“Breakfast.” Repeating the invitation sounded like a bad idea. Any smart man in his position would walk away from a girl ten years his junior, not trail his hands from her shoulders to her neck. “In the woods.”
A smile spread on her face, brighter than the one she’d sported after talking to her doctor. “I’d like that.”
The sun peeking through the branches inflamed the red curls tangled between his fingers. Throwing caution to the wind, he bowed his head and brushed her lips with his own.
***
“Miss Rowan?”
Her name yelled out loud pierced the hazy fog in Rowan’s mind. To her great displeasure, Stone eased the soft kiss bestowed upon her lips.
Looking at her with a blank, ambiguous expression, he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before taking a few steps back to retrieve his cane. “Someone’s calling you.”
Branches cracked nearby. “Miss Rowan?” Bill appeared from behind a tree, a baseball cap tipped low over his forehead. “There you are. We have a small crisis at the house.”
It’d better be important and urgent and life-threatening to be worth the interruption. “What crisis?”
From underneath the brim of his cap, Bill’s gaze settled on her companion. “Mr. Stone? What a surprise meeting you here.”
“Bill?” The current emergency concerned her, not Stone. “What’s the problem?”
Returning his attention to her, the handyman gestured toward the path that she and Stone had traveled moments ago. “Please, come with me. I’ll explain along the way.”
While the timing left much to be desired, she couldn’t ignore her duty. “Give me a few minutes.”
“No dawdling, O’Reilly. Just go.” As stoic as a butler, Stone turned around and limped away in the opposite direction.
“Wait—” She’d meant to dismiss Bill, not chase him.
Arms crossed over his chest, Bill glanced back and forth between her and Stone until her companion rounded the next curve and disappeared behind the foliage. “Did I interrupt anything?”
“No. Of course not,” she lied. The thought that Bill had purposely intruded upon them crossed her mind, but she discarded the absurd notion as she walked back. “What happened?”
“The twins were playing on the gazebo with their dolls. When they ran inside to go to the bathroom, their little brother ransacked their playing area.”
“That’s sad, but I fail to see why I’m needed.” The children’s parents, not her, should be dealing with the boy.
“You know the gaps on the floor of the gazebo?”
“Did the boy’s foot get stuck?” Filling the cracks between the boards was next on her list of things to do before repainting the entire structure.
“No, the boy is fine, but the toys fell under the gazebo.” Bill gave her a lopsided smile. “The poor dollies lost their jewelries, and the little girls are devastated.”
The cries of the Ruperts’ children reached her ears long before she cleared the woods. “Did you offer to drive them into town to buy new jewelries?” Fake jewels couldn’t be that expensive. “I’ll pay for them.”
The contact of Bill’s hand on her bare arm stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Miss Rowan, have you ever lost a toy or a stuffed animal?”
On a bright summer day, she’d taken Sharky to the zoo. Between the monkey enclosure and the penguin habitat, she’d lost her purple stuffed dolphin. Her dad had retraced all her steps that day but never found him. “What’s your point?”
“In the heart of a little girl, a new toy cannot always replace an old one.”
“You’re right.” Tears had kept streaking her face for many nights, long after her dad had bought her a new dolphin. “What do you propose we do?”
***
Alone in the woods, Avery sat on a dead log and retrieved his phone from his back pocket. The last time he’d gotten in touch with Lancaster, it’d been in his official capacity.
His best friend from training school and former colleague at the Moncton detachment answered on the third ring. “Corporal Lancaster speaking.”
“Remember me, Caster?”
“Avery?” Lancaster had always refused to call him Stone. “You disappeared without leaving a trace. Where are you?”
“In PEI. Enjoying the weather.” Back in March, Lancaster had attended Rachel’s funeral in Woodstock, and Avery was grateful the unexpected call hadn’t elicited any pity comments—yet. “Listen. I stumbled onto a suspicious death.”
“I knew you’d get back in the saddle.” Laughter reverberated in the handset. “Who got whacked?”
“I’m on medical leave, Caster.” His best friend wasn’t supposed to encourage him in this crazy wild goose chase. “Talk some sense into me.”
“Sure, Avery.” More laughter on the line. “How can I help you solve the mystery?”
“Glad to know your judgment is as impaired as mine.” If Lancaster didn’t stop laughing, the entire detachment would soon inquire about the commotion. “Grab a pen and a piece of paper and take notes.”
***
A flashlight stuck between her teeth, Rowan crawled under the gazebo.
In normal times, she loved dark, humid, claustrophobic spaces, but this wasn’t a cave. It was
the place where someone had disposed of Mattie’s cat after killing it.
Swarms of insects, most of them figments of her imagination, crept on her arms and legs. Her skin itched, and the musty smell churned her stomach. Once her search for the missing jewelry reached its completion, she’d take a cleansing shower, then a long bubble bath.
Concrete blocks supported the gazebo one foot above the ground. The design allowed the water to drain and protected the wood from rotting. Bill had unscrewed one of the lattice panels surrounding the base, but his broad physique had prevented him from venturing underneath the structure. In his opinion, her smaller frame made her the perfect candidate for the dirty, disgusting job.
Slowly moving her head sideways, she illuminated the soil around her as she slithered like a slug. She was a geologist, not a biologist, and she hated slugs and bugs and—
“Miss Rowan? Are you all right?”
With the flashlight still in her mouth, she garbled some response to let Bill know she’d heard him. She missed her headlamp, but she’d left it at the ranch. Next time she called home, she’d ask her mom if she could send it in the mail, which reminded Rowan that she also needed to inquire about her father.
In the circle of light, a fake silver earring lay near an old tarnished penny on the hard-packed red earth. She collected both and placed them in her shirt pocket before resuming her laborious quest.
After what felt like an eternity later, she exited from underneath the gazebo, and kneeling in the warm, soft grass, she inhaled deeply. The wind carried the sweet scent of rose blossoms and the fresh ocean smell. Revitalized, she emptied her pockets.
The twins’ squeals of excitement echoed in Rowan’s head long after she entered Buccaneer and stepped under the shower.
Chapter Thirteen
Sporting clean cotton shorts and a tank top, Rowan headed upstairs for her daily chores. Images of the sensual interlude in the woods played in her mind as she washed the floor of the attic room. Stone had initiated the kiss, and she’d responded. “Steamy lava, what got into me?” In the morning, she’d accepted a date from a man, then gone kissing another one. “If Bjorn were—”