On the Rocks (A Turtle Island Novel)

by Kim Law

  Given that the excuse was accurate, and that Ginger had gotten a good look at their kitchen, she couldn’t help but worry about the girl herself.

  “So . . .” Patrick began. He looked at her again, still holding on to her hand, and she did everything she could to look cute. Her smile felt a little too sweet, and she knew her eyes were open too wide. “Do you want to . . .”

  “Do it again?” she prodded. “Go out?” She would not let go of a second date easily. “I’d love to. How about Friday?”

  Patrick didn’t answer immediately, instead shooting another glance next door. “I have something going on Friday,” he finally replied. He returned his gaze to hers. “Saturday? Seven?”

  The smile on her face became real, and she nodded, grateful. “Yes. Seven.”

  Patrick left then—no kiss—and she hurried inside, leaning against the closed door and kicking herself for nearly blowing it. She needed classes on how to date a man, apparently.

  In actuality, she hated dating. She just needed a man.

  Which reminded her . . . she had one!

  Her friend Cookie Phillips had called earlier in the day, letting her know that the latest Jules Bradley novel had come in to the bookstore, and Ginger had made a run to pick it up. Jules Bradley wrote the most god-awful horror stories, and she couldn’t get enough. She’d actually started it before getting ready for tonight’s dinner, which was why she hadn’t put more time into her appearance.

  Before taking another step into the house, she kicked off her heels and wiggled out of her jeans. Her shirt was long enough to cover her hips, and the night was still warm. She fluffed the tails of the silk from where they’d been tucked into her jeans, and grabbed the book. Then she headed to the back deck.

  After lighting the tiki torches, she settled into her favorite Adirondack chair and opened to the last page she’d read. Any decent optometrist would chastise her for reading with such little light, but she loved getting lost in creepy stories in the dark of the night.

  The only thing that would make it better was if she could hear the waves while reading, but that would be rectified as soon as she finished her house. She had a deck built there that not only overlooked the ocean, with nothing but grass and sand between, but she’d also planned muted underrailing lights for just this purpose.

  The thought made her excited to get the house finished. She’d call the contractor first thing in the morning and see how soon she could get them back out there. The house probably still had a good month’s worth of work to do to complete it, maybe more, and that left a little time before the wedding. Enough to pack her bags and move in.

  She’d worry about making the call tomorrow, though. First things first. She leaned back, her legs stretched out in front of her, and disappeared in the words.

  A few chapters later, she looked up from the book, her heart pounding. This one was his best one yet. She glanced toward the Ridley house, remembering that she’d seen the book on Julie’s shelf when she’d been over a few weeks ago. She’d checked it out again that afternoon. How had Julie gotten a copy before it was released?

  Whatever the source, Ginger wanted to be hooked up.

  A funny thought hit her, and she rested her head against the back of the chair and smiled up at the dark sky. Maybe the father of Julie’s baby was the author?

  Laughter bubbled out of her, and at the sound of it in the quiet, still night, she let herself laugh more. The sound was freeing, and though others might think her somewhat nutty, she didn’t care. Life didn’t always go her way, but it could definitely be fun. At least people like Jules Bradley were around to entertain her on dark, lonely nights.

  A movement caught her eye, and she shifted her gaze. It landed on Carter’s window. The curtains were moving.

  Had Carter been watching her?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  He hated wallpaper with the kind of passion that should be reserved for the bedroom.

  Carter sprayed another patch of the wall with a mixture of water and fabric softener—a trick he’d learned years ago when working construction for summer jobs—and scraped at the stubborn spot. He’d been going at the walls most of the day, and still had two feet untouched.

  The door in the other room opened, and he looked over, unable to see into the living room from where he was, but he knew it would be Julie. It was time for her to get off work. He’d spent the previous day at the art gallery with her, doing everything he could to help. Lifting boxes, dusting, sweeping. Whatever he’d seen her about to do, he’d jumped in and handled, thinking that if something were wrong with her or the baby, he was helping.

  Of course, he’d only made her angry, and she’d banned him from the shop.

  According to her, she didn’t need her big brother’s help. She also didn’t need to tell him why she’d shredded the kitchen, apparently. All she’d said was that she felt like “doing some upgrades.”

  He’d been here for two days, and so far, Julie had refused to talk about anything of import. She’d gone to bed early both nights, had barely touched any of the food he’d cooked for her, and when he’d attempted to bring up the subject of the baby’s father, she’d actually shoved earbuds in her ears.

  When they had talked, it had devolved into arguments.

  And she’d not caved an inch when he’d tried to find out if something was wrong with her. At least he was beginning to believe that whatever was going on, it didn’t have to do with her health or the baby’s. She seemed more despondent than in danger.

  “I see you’re still here,” she said now. She stood at the entrance to the kitchen, a frown on her face as she took in his actions. “And you need to leave that alone. It’s my project.”

  He looked at the wall and almost wished he had left it alone.

  “Yeah?” Using the scraper, he poked at the picture still hanging behind the table, setting it to swinging until it fell to the floor. “That hole your project, too?”

  “I messed up trying to get the paper down.”

  “You knocked a hole in the wall, Julie,” he accused. “That wasn’t an accident.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, anger coloring her cheeks, and he noticed that she looked a lot like him. She also looked as unhappy as he was. That troubled him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, gentling his tone.

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit.” He got a corner of the paper loose and yanked. A strip about one foot by two inches was all that came down. “What’s your plan once this is off, anyway? Paint?”

  She mumbled under her breath, and he stopped what he was doing to look at her.

  “What did you say?” he asked. He hoped he’d heard her wrong.

  She stared, unblinking, looking like a mulish teen instead of a twenty-two-year-old adult, and after several seconds she finally replied. “I said I plan to redo the whole kitchen.”

  That’s what he thought he’d heard. He sighed. “Why?”

  Again, she didn’t immediately answer, but when he refused to look away, she broke. “Because Mom and Dad are coming home to stay,” she said. She jabbed her finger at her chest, her voice suddenly wobbling. “And they’re coming home because I’m having a baby.”

  Then his sister burst into tears. That was the last thing Carter wanted.

  “I’m forcing them to change their entire lives, and I didn’t mean to,” she blubbered.

  Well, hell. He’d asked.

  He groaned. “So this is about guilt?” It didn’t pass his notice that he’d grown quite accustomed to not having to deal with female emotions. And that he’d liked it. “Do you seriously not realize how excited they are to be grandparents?” he asked.

  “No, they’re not.”

  He thought about the fact that he’d always imagined he’d be the one to give them their first grandchild, and he realized even that was bothering him. Terrific. He was jealous of his sister.

  He tossed the scraper into the kitchen sink, and dragged Julie to a chair.


  Sitting across from her, he propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Listen, moron. They’re thrilled with the idea of a grandchild. And they’re not upset about coming home for it, either. That’s why they started traveling as soon as you went away to school. So they could be settled when grandkids did come. Dad worked hard when we were kids because they had the dream of traveling, of giving back to others on their trips. But they also want to be here for you now.”

  And for him. Which he knew was why his mom wanted him there. It was her way to help.

  “Well, I still feel bad about it,” Julie said. She hiccupped as she tried to get her tears under control. “And I hadn’t planned on getting pregnant at this age. This is not how it was supposed to happen.”

  That was the first thing she’d said about the pregnancy, and Carter waited, holding his breath and hoping she’d say more. She didn’t.

  Instead, she added, “That’s why I wanted to do this for them. Their anniversary is in a few weeks.”

  “You want to redo the kitchen as an anniversary present?”

  She shrugged one tiny shoulder. “Yeah.”

  “And you intended to do it by yourself?” At her silence, he said, “You know they don’t care about stuff like this?”

  “I know.” Her teeth appeared and nibbled on her bottom lip before she admitted softly, “But I want my daughter to be able to bake cookies with Dad. Or with Mom if Mom decides she wants to start cooking. And there’s not enough room in here to do that.”

  Carter’s chest clenched as he looked at his sister. “You’re having a daughter?” He’d wondered, but until that moment he hadn’t thought it mattered to him.

  The slight smile on Julie’s face beat at the hardened shell around his heart. “Yeah,” she said. “The doctor says she’s tiny, but she’s healthy.” She lifted her shoulder in another shrug. “I am, too. So you can quit worrying.”

  Carter reached for his sister then, and pulled her into his arms. Her tears cranked back up.

  When he let her go, he shook his head at her. “You’re an idiot, you know that, don’t you? I can’t quit worrying. You’re my sister, you’re alone, and you’re pregnant. And you’re trying to do a kitchen remodel by yourself.” He dragged his hand over his face and eyed the sad state of the cabinets. “Please tell me that you’ve at least got someone lined up for the hard parts?”

  Julie looked away from him then, and in that moment he knew that he wouldn’t be going home anytime soon. He had a kitchen to remodel.

  His insides sagged. “What?” he asked tiredly.

  “The store where I plan to order everything said they could install them.”

  “Julie.” He scowled at her. “It needs more than some guys showing up and hanging a few new cabinets; surely you know that. Who’s taking these down? What about countertops? Are you replacing them?”

  More tears rolled over her cheeks.

  “Can you even afford this?” he asked, frustration evident in his tone. He didn’t know about her finances, but he remembered how difficult it could be to get started out of college.

  Her silence was his answer.

  “Got nothing to say?” he prodded.

  “I got a loan.”

  He ground his teeth together. “You’re having a baby, Julie. Your money needs to go to her.”

  “I know!” she burst out. “But I had to do something. I have to live here with them. At least for a while; I have no other choice. I couldn’t just take advantage. I need to pay them back.”

  “You know you’re behaving like you’re sixteen, right? Not thinking things through.”

  “How would you know what I was like at sixteen? You weren’t even around.”

  Her words knocked the air out of him. For siblings with eight years between them, they’d been close. But she was right, he could have been around more.

  Only, Lisa had hated it here. He’d brought her home just once after they’d married. She’d made such a fuss anytime he’d suggested another trip that he’d finally quit bringing it up. Eventually he’d taken on more jobs that shipped him all over the country, and she’d begun staying longer with each trip to New York. He’d come home only one more time—for Julie’s high school graduation—and that trip had been made alone.

  Looking back, he couldn’t believe he’d let his life be controlled like that. But he hadn’t realized it was that bad. He’d been trying to make his wife happy. Only, she’d also hated the apartment they’d rented, the house he’d eventually built . . . and apparently him.

  Geez, what a schmuck.

  He rose to get Julie a box of tissues so she could dry her eyes, and on his way back from the bathroom, he caught sight of Ginger sitting on her deck. He paused, trying to see if she was wearing pants. He’d seen her out there the last two nights, both times reading a book by torchlight, and neither time with anything covering her from the hips down.

  Or if she’d had something on, it had been as tiny as the pair of shorts she’d worn over here that first day. Who wandered around outside with no pants on?

  “You should go over and talk to her,” Julie sniffed. She took the box of tissues from him and shot him a haughty look. “Instead of just staring at her.”

  He eyed his sister. “I’m not staring at her.”

  But he took one more look, wishing he was upstairs where he could see more clearly, and Julie snickered. He speared her with a look.

  “You’re so obvious,” she said. “She has great legs, doesn’t she?”

  She did have great legs. Carter said nothing.

  “And I swear she doesn’t even know it,” Julie added. “Go on. You guys were good friends once. Go over. At least it’ll get you out of my hair for a while.”

  He forced himself to look away. It had been a long time since he and Ginger had been friends. “Tough luck for you, kid. Because I plan to be in your hair every day. At least until you put some meat on your bones. My niece needs to be fed.”

  “Your niece is just fine.”

  “See that you keep it that way.” He retrieved the scraper and went back to the wall. “This is my project now. You’re on the sidelines.”

  She shot out of her chair. “You can’t do that. This was my idea. I’m paying for it.”

  He guffawed. “Not anymore. And you’re not lifting a finger, either. Your job is to eat and take care of yourself.”

  She snarled at him, and he could see her racking her brain for another angle to make her argument. But in the end she dropped back to her seat with a thump. “Big brothers can be such asses.”

  He pointed the scraper at her. “You got that right. Which brings me to my next issue. What’s the deal with the father?”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “What’s the deal with your wife?”

  They stared at each other for several seconds, both refusing to cave. He’d spilled his guts to his mother in a weak moment, which also meant that his father knew, but he’d made them promise not to tell anyone. His stupidity was his alone. No one else needed to know about it.

  “Had you already broken up when you came for my college graduation?” Julie asked. She sounded hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because we were together then. I thought we were fine.” Mostly.

  He’d headed to New York right after leaving Chapel Hill, intending to read Lisa the riot act for not taking the time to be at his sister’s graduation. At that point he hadn’t even seen his wife in three months. He’d been finishing the house, working hard to get it done in time for their anniversary, and polishing the proposal for the new book.

  Their marriage hadn’t been without flaws, he’d known that. But the house was supposed to change that. She was going to cut back on her hours. They would live together for more than a night here and there for the first time in years.

  They were going to have kids.

  Only . . .

  The hurt still ripped him in half. That was the worst part. He wasn’t just mad, he was hurt. He’d pu
t everything he had into their marriage.

  Fuck irreconcilable differences. This one had been on her.

  “The kitchen will be a present from both of us,” he said, ignoring the fact that he knew Julie wanted to know more than that he and Lisa had split up. And maybe she deserved to know. But he wasn’t ready to talk about it. “I’ll call in a favor, get some help. If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it right.”

  “You’re staying until Mom and Dad get home?”

  Her question, and the timid way she asked it, made him realize that she wanted him here. That hadn’t even occurred to him.

  “Yeah.” He nodded, not giving it another thought. “I’m staying.”

  Which meant that somehow in the middle of all of this he had to figure out how to write again. If he was about to sink tens of thousands into a remodel, he couldn’t very well afford to return an advance.

  But first, he had to know if there was a problem with his sister. She had to be honest about that. He gave her a penetrating look. “Are you really okay?”

  She nodded, but her eyes told a different story.

  “Sad?” he asked. “Hurt?” He recognized the look.

  More tears slid from her lids. “Heartbroken,” she whispered.

  “And that’s all?”

  “That’s all.”

  He studied her, thinking about the similarities between them. He didn’t know the details of her relationship or lack thereof, but her pregnant-and-alone state said enough. “I’m here if you need anything,” he told her.

  She looked so small, but his words seemed to fortify her. Her shoulders straightened, and for a few brief seconds, she didn’t look quite as miserable as he felt.

  Then more tears fell, and he knew that they were quite the pair.

  “One of your eyelashes is on crooked.”

  Ginger halted at the words—she was on her way out the front door—and faced her mom. “Which one?” She brought both hands to her eyes. She’d thought she had them on right.

  Her mother put down the strands of ribbon she was working with—she was personalizing her wedding favors—and rose from her chair. She tilted Ginger’s head back and Ginger closed her eyes in surrender, thankful someone was around who knew how to do this stuff.