by J. S. Marlo
A sharp pain tore at her heart. There was no if. He hadn’t contacted her since her departure, but his silence spoke volumes. The time had come to forget him and move on.
On the desk, Stone’s laptop beckoned her to learn more about him. One folder in particular piqued her curiosity, but looking at it would be a breach of privacy that could land her in a whole lot of trouble. On the other hand, the man had kissed her. In a twisted way, didn’t that give her the right to dig into his personal life?
She set her duster beside the laptop, lifted the lid, and clicked on RACHEL. Subfolders appeared. She skimmed over them before stopping the mouse over the one titled ENGAGEMENT. One click downloaded a colored picture on the screen.
A small gasp died on her lips at the sight of the smiling redhead and her dashing companion. Seated at a table in evening clothes, Stone held the beauty’s left hand, showing off a delicate diamond ring. The caption read RACHEL AND AVERY.
“He was engaged to the dead constable?” There had to be hundreds—no, thousands of Rachels. The news article on the web hadn’t contained any pictures or physical descriptions of the dead RCMP officer. They could easily be two different women—they had to be two different women.
Heart pounding inside her chest, she searched the miscellaneous subfolder for more pictures.
The next relevant photo portrayed Stone sitting behind a desk in his RCMP uniform. The young female constable standing by his side sported the same curly red hair, the same high cheekbones, and the same dazzling smile as the woman in the engagement picture. Her right hand rested on the baby bump bulging against her tight-fitting uniform.
SGT. A. STONE AND CONST. R. MILFORD WITH BABY S. IN TRAINING
Tears brimmed in Rowan’s eyes, blurring the description. Stone had lost Rachel and his unborn child. On the beach, she’d reminded him of Rachel, and he’d kissed her to fill the void left by his slain lover.
Glum and despondent, she closed the laptop and dusted around it. A different kind of regret ripped through her chest at the realization that the encounter in the woods had held no significance. She and Stone were kindred spirits of the lonely kind.
Under the vigorous sweeping of the duster, papers flew onto the floor. She bent down to pick them up. Among them, she spotted an old picture of her father. “Where did that one come from?”
High up in a tree, her father sat astride a thick branch while his sister watched from the ground. On the back of the photo, someone had written a short description.
AFRAID OF HEIGHTS, MATTIE REFUSED TO CLIMB THE APPLE TREE
“Mattie was afraid of heights? No wonder she fell off the ladder.”
Steps resonated on the stairs. She hurried to return the papers to the desk before anyone intruded upon her.
Stone limped in as she gathered the dirty towels and prepared to leave.
“O’Reilly?” With his left hand, he invited her to stay. “About the incident in the woods, we need to talk.”
The word incident rhymed with accident. “Let’s pretend nothing happened, okay?” Denial didn’t hurt as much as rejection, and she’d had her share of rejection in Iceland. “Have a wonderful day, Mr. Stone.”
“Wait a sec—”
With her foot, she closed the door behind her, drowning out his objections, and hurried down the stairs.
On the first floor, screams and cries assailed her ears. “For thunder’s sake, can’t the Ruperts silence their progenies?” She dropped the dirty laundry in her quarters before following the racket into the kitchen.
The Rupert boy squirmed on a kitchen chair, upset over the blood dripping from a slash along his forearm. Armed with soapy water and a facecloth, Gail fussed over him while his mother attempted to appease her daughters, who were as filthy as their little brother.
“What happened?”
The twin with blue glasses abandoned her mother’s embrace, and with a dirty hand, she tugged on the hem of Rowan’s shorts, leaving reddish imprints on the beige fabric.
“Yes…Casey?” A small nod from the girl standing in front of her confirmed that Rowan hadn’t mistaken her for Molly. “What’s wrong?”
Renewed tears added fresh streaks down her chubby cheeks. “You didn’t find Tessa’s ring.”
The unfamiliar name confused Rowan. “Who’s Tessa?”
“Tessa is Molly’s doll.” Mrs. Rupert pulled Molly onto her lap and stroked her long black hair in what appeared to be a futile attempt to calm her sobbing daughter. “The children searched for the ring under the gazebo, but something spooked them.”
“A snake.” Casey’s arms spread wide. “That big.”
Shivers coursed over Rowan’s skin. Some snakes on the island grew to be four feet long. Their bites proved inoffensive, but they managed to scare the daylights out of her.
“A little redbelly snake, Miss Rowan.” Gail’s bosoms heaved from suppressed laughter. “I saw the poor thing slither away after the children fled screaming.”
“I was eating on the deck when my son came running up the stairs. He tripped and bumped into my lawn chair.” The mother of three recounted the accident like someone would narrate a dull day at the beach. “I’m afraid Ryan cut his arm on the plate I dropped. It’s nothing serious.”
An accident on her property had injured a child. In order to protect everyone, Rowan was inclined to seek a second opinion. “Your son needs to see a doctor.”
“My husband is gone fishing, and he took the SUV. How do you suppose I get my son to a hospital?”
Far from impressed, Rowan resisted the temptation to tell Mrs. Rupert they had taxis on the island. “Gail, wrap Ryan’s arm, please. Bill will drive Mrs. Rupert and her son to the hospital.”
***
Bjorn had requested a private conversation with the doctor who had been treating his grandmother since she was admitted at the hospital yesterday.
“This way, please.” A nurse with vibrant red hair—so much like Rowan’s—ushered him inside a small cubicle consisting of two chairs facing each other across a low desk. “Have a seat. The doctor will be right with you.”
More than half and hour later, a young doctor who didn’t believe right with you was a synonym for right now entered the cubicle. On the front pocket of his white lab coat, someone had drawn a turtle with a green marker. The doctor would have blended in with the undergraduate lab students that Bjorn had supervised during the winter.
“How’s my grandmother?” No point wasting the doctor’s precious time or his. He had a plane to catch in the morning, and he needed to pack.
The doctor sat behind the desk and flipped through a thick chart. “We conducted more tests today, but we still don’t know for sure what caused the attack she suffered yesterday. Heart is fine, but her blood pressure is too elevated. Good news is, she’s responding to the new drug we administered. She should be able to go home in a few days.”
“Days?” The good news doomed his flight.
***
The doorbell interrupted the card game that Rowan was playing in the kitchen with Casey and Molly to keep them busy while waiting for their mother’s return from the hospital.
“Time for a snack, girls.” Rowan placed her cards facedown on the kitchen table and stood. “Gail?”
Heeding her request, Gail scooped the cookie jar from the shelf with both hands. “You go answer. The young misses and I will enjoy cookies and cold glasses of milk in your absence.”
Gleeful exclamations from the girls punctuated her departure from the kitchen and carried into the lobby. The jar was full, more than enough to satisfy their ferocious appetites.
She opened the door. A young man wearing khaki pants and an ivory cotton shirt paced on the veranda. “May I help you?” Rowan wasn’t expecting any new guests for a few more days.
“Hello.” In his early twenties, he sported short-cropped hair and a thin blond mustache, and he carried a washed-out backpack. “My name is Winston Bowman. I’m looking for a room, and your sign—” He pointed his index
finger at Buccaneer’s pirate sign. “—doesn’t say no vacancy.”
My first unscheduled visitor. “Please, come in.” She led him into her private office and gestured for him to get comfortable. “How many nights are you planning on staying?”
Dropping his bag by the chair, he sat across from her desk. “Four, maybe five nights.”
The Ruperts and their son occupied the Squid Room while the twin girls shared the Oyster Room. “The Lobster Room is available at ninety-five dollars a night plus applicable taxes. The price includes breakfast. Lunch and supper cost extra.”
“Lobster Room? It sounds dangerous and exciting.” Winston’s teasing and friendly attitude reminded Rowan of her brother. “I’ll take it.”
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy the venue.”
“Trust me, I already like what I see.” He flashed a dazzling smile that would have melted a glacier. “I bet you have a lovely name, Miss…”
Her love life was complicated enough without adding another player to the game. “Ms. O’Reilly.” From the left drawer, she selected a registration form and placed it on her desk for him to fill out. “Name, address, and license plate number, please.”
“No car.” His smile grew wider as he grabbed a black pen from the flowerpot serving as a penholder and began filling in his personal information. “I hiked up the hill.”
“You what?” Not many visitors dared hike up the hill. The first time she’d tried, her legs hurt for two days afterwards. “Impressive, Mr. Bowman.” Careful not to fuel his interest, she downplayed her admiration by using his last name.
“What can I say?” He shrugged impishly. “I’m an outdoor enthusiast. Any trails worth exploring?”
“Many. I’ll get you a map of the area.” Curious as to where he came from, she glanced at the form. His scribbling resembled those of a doctor, making it difficult to read reversed. “I’ll also need an imprint of your credit card.”
He returned the pen to the flowerpot before pulling a thick wallet from the front pocket of his shirt. “Can I pay cash one night at a time?”
“Sure.” Cash transactions saved her credit card fees.
In exchange for the money, she handed him two keys and a map. “The square key unlocks the front door, and the round one opens your room. If you please follow me, I’ll show you around.”
***
Kissing O’Reilly in the woods had to rank among the most reckless things Avery had ever done, and considering he’d jumped from a bridge in an attempt to save a suicidal man from drowning, that spoke volumes, but it didn’t explain why she’d offhandedly dismissed the encounter when he confronted her.
Drink in hand, he paced his room, seeking elusive answers from mute walls.
Stubborn woman.
The thud from his cane hitting the hardwood floor resonated in the attic. The clock marked six o’clock. Two floors below, the guests gathered for the evening meal. He had no desire to join them until his stomach reminded him how long it’d been since his last meal.
O’Reilly obviously regretted the incident. Fine. He would play by her rules. It wasn’t like any attraction existed between them. Besides, she was seeing that annoying doctor.
Having erased the interlude from his mind, he headed downstairs.
At the kitchen table, Mr. Rupert shared a fish story with a chatty young guy whom Gail introduced as Winston before inviting Avery to sit beside the Rupert lad. Arm in a sling, the boy struggled with his fork.
“What would you prefer tonight, Mr. S.? Salmon on rice or pork chops in apple sauce?”
“Either sounds good.” Any meal prepared by Gail tasted as good as the ones he remembered from his late mother. “Where’s Miss O’Reilly?”
“In her office, tending to some business.”
A potato flew from his young neighbor’s plate onto the tablecloth in front of him.
“I’m sorry.” Mrs. Rupert snatched the utensil from her son’s hand and fed him the recalcitrant vegetable. “If not for Molly’s ring, this whole situation could have been avoided.”
“What ring?” he asked before he caught Gail’s warning glare.
“It’s a long story, but if you insist.”
Through no insistence of his part, the boy’s mother graced him with all the details, from the giant snake to the lengthy visit at emergency and the ugly stitches performed by a Doctor Malcolm down to the ultimate late-afternoon downpour that conspired with O’Reilly to prevent the retrieval of the last jewel.
No wonder O’Reilly decided to eat in her office.
By the time dessert was served, he’d exhausted every ounce of patience he could muster, and he was ready to arrest the Rupert family for disturbing the peace.
Chapter Fourteen
Alone in her office, Rowan munched on her salad.
She’d tried calling her mom, but no matter which number she dialed, home or cell, she ended up listening to a voicemail. Her mother was either working on location, during which she never answered her phone, or her pa had taken her on some secluded romantic vacation. When it came to meeting men, her mom had had the best luck. Her three husbands had treated—or in Pa’s case, did treat—her like she was the most precious gem in the world. If only some of that luck had rubbed off on her only daughter.
The musical chime of her cell phone covered her wistful sigh, and the number on the screen perked up her spirits. Scooping the phone off her desk, she placed it against her ear. “Hey, Mom. Where are you?”
“We’re at the hospital.”
“We? Who’s we?” Her mother’s exuberance disconcerted Rowan. “Is everyone all right?” Then understanding dawned on her. “The baby?”
“Yes.” Laughter bubbled on the line. “It’s a girl. She has dark hair and big blue eyes. She’s gorgeous.”
Joy and sadness mixed together in her heart. Being homesick wasn’t something she often experienced, but today was one of those occasions. “Mom, I’m so happy for them. You have to send me pictures. Lots of pictures. How’s Piper?”
“Tired. She was in labor for twenty hours.”
Twenty hours? That sounded more like torture than labor. “What name did they give her?”
“Ember. No middle name yet.”
Only a firefighter would think of calling his daughter Ember. Very original, big brother. “It’s a lovely name, Mom. I take it you and Pa got to hold her.”
“Yes, and she already has her grandpa wrapped around her little finger.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Her stepfather had opened his heart to Rowan and her brother when he’d married their mother, and he treated them like his own children. “I take it he’s already spoiling baby Ember?”
Renewed laughter filled the line. “To stop him from buying the entire teddy bear collection from the hospital gift shop, I sent him to the airport to pick up Piper’s parents.”
“They have gift shops at the airport, you know.” This was the best news she’d heard in a long time, and she couldn’t help but tease her mom.
“Ro!”
The warning tickled Rowan’s funny bone. “Don’t worry, I promise not to call him.” But she looked forward to hearing how many stuffed animals her little niece had received.
“Speaking of calls, was there a reason why you tried to call me? I have half a dozen missed calls from you.”
Yes, but talking about her dead father on the day her little niece was born seemed inappropriate. “I just wanted to say hello.”
“You never call that many times in one day just to say hello. Did something happen?”
Rowan should have known her mother wouldn’t buy the excuse. “It’s about Father. Did he ever mention his father to you?”
“Chad’s father? Have you been doing some digging into your family tree?” The quest seemed to amuse her mom, not upset her.
“Yes, and I’m missing branches.”
“I’m afraid your grandfather is a branch I don’t know much about.” There was a long pause, and Rowan waited patiently f
or her mother to continue. “According to your father, Wilmot O’Reilly was a difficult man who drank too much. They fought a lot. At fifteen, your father left to come live with his uncle, Charlie. I think Charlie was from his mother’s side. For a while, he kept in touch with his sister, but after we got married, she stopped corresponding with him. I don’t know if it’s because she disapproved of me, but—”
“No, Mom.” Rowan bolted upright in her chair. As Mattie’s heir and finder of her secret correspondence, it was her duty to dispel her mother’s crazy notion that her first husband’s family didn’t like her. “Father had sent Mattie your wedding picture. He was so proud of you, and she was so happy to meet you. She thought you were a beautiful bride.”
“Really? How do you know?” A hint of incredulity had sneaked into the question.
“I found some letters they sent each other.” While she didn’t want to reopen the wound in her mother’s heart, her mother needed to hear what had transpired between her husband and his sister. “Would you like me to read them to you?”
“I’d love it, Ro. Just let me find a quieter corridor, and I’ll be all ears.”
***
A storm showing no sign of abating had washed over the island, and for the third night in a row, wind gusts knocked against the outside wall. Unable to sleep, Avery approached the window and rolled up the vinyl blinds. The loose shutter on the left side banged against the exterior wall. In the morning, he’d tell Bill to add a few nails to the bloody thing when he had a chance.
Sporadic lightning illuminated the gazebo battered by the heavy rain. Down below, a shadow moved before fading into obscurity.