"It's fine. It's good. You're doing great," I lied, practically stomping through the car floor as I pumped the invisible brakes. "Just ease your foot down the--"
We shot off, nearly clipping a tree. She took the ninety-degree turn onto Spruce Brook Road, which was not paved, at thirty miles an hour, dirt and gravel flying. From the back seat, Boomer let out a doggy moan. "Maybe a teeny bit slower," I suggested tightly.
We were both sweaty when we turned onto the little grassy path road that led to Oberon Cove. "That wasn't bad," I lied.
She threw it into Park before it was quite done moving, and we both jerked forward, the seat belts catching. "Perfect," I said.
Poe got out and stomped around to the back of the car and popped the hatchback to get my two suitcases. She might be grumpy, but she had two good arms. Boomer leaped out that way and trotted off to sniff.
I got out, too, easing my weight onto my healing knee. No more crutches for me, just an ice pack at night.
As ever, memories of my father came with the smell of sea and pine. We'd had a little Boston Whaler back then. Once in a while, we'd come to the boatyard for a part or a repair.
Now Luke lived there. I'd have to see him sooner or later. Maybe time had done its work and gentled his anger. I sure as hell hoped so. At least neither he nor Sullivan had been permanently hurt in that accident. Otherwise, I wasn't sure I'd be on Scupper right now.
But I was here, and I wanted to see my new place.
From what I'd learned about Collier Rhodes, he had money to burn, and based on the look of things, it was true. The cost of running electric and water out here must've been staggering just on its own. He'd even had a septic system put in, Jim the Realtor had told me.
There was a small meadow separating the cove from the road, and my parking area, so to speak, was just a turnoff from the dirt road. A path was cut into the long grass, leading me to the water, which was ringed by pine trees and rocks. Small waves shushed against the shore, and the wind murmured through the trees. The dock itself was made of smooth gray wood, and a rope railing swooped gracefully from post to post. Copper footlights lit the way so I wouldn't fall in the drink at night.
And the houseboat itself was...wow. Even more beautiful than in the photos.
It, too, was made of pale wood, a modern-looking structure of angles and strange curves. Oddly enough, it was well suited to Oberon Cove. Oh, man, there was a deck on the top! Sweet! And was that...a satellite dish? God bless Collier Rhodes. I could still watch My 600-lb Life.
I caught up with my niece, who was texting someone, and unlocked the door.
"Whoa," she said before she could help herself.
Whoa indeed.
The door opened to a sleek, modern kitchen. Smoked-glass counters and a stainless steel Viking stove. Big fridge, a banquette that curved around a table and would seat six comfortably. There were windows everywhere, and the place was flooded in golden light. The living room had a fireplace. On a boat! A couch, a beautiful leather chair, glass coffee table.
"Wow," I said. "It's beautiful."
My niece said nothing, just clomped in and dropped the suitcases. I winced. "Can you maybe bring those into the bedroom, honey?" I asked.
"I don't know where it is," she said.
"Let's find it, then."
It wasn't far--the whole boat was maybe eight hundred square feet. Poe opened a door and went in, putting the suitcases on my bed...a queen bed across from sleek built-in drawers and closet. The bathroom was nicer than the one in Bobby's apartment--this one was tiled with pebbles. There was even a bathtub.
"It's like a really nice hotel," I said, trying to picture myself here.
"I wouldn't know," Poe said.
"Where's your room?" I asked.
"I don't have a room here."
"Yes, you do," I said. "I think it's up those stairs."
I was right; there was a second, smaller bedroom there, bigger than the one at Mom's. Another bathroom, a little loft space with a futon mattress and a ladder up to the deck, which had a stunning view of the cove and ocean beyond. Teak furniture with red-and-orange cushions and a bar. I could grow herbs up here, and have pots of flowers. It was the most fabulous place I'd ever lived. Thank you, Collier Rhodes!
I turned to my niece with a smile. "Isn't this great? I really hope you'll stay with me."
"Whatever."
I hesitated. "The truth is, I...I love company. Sometimes I get a little wigged out being on my own. So I mean it, okay? Come see me whenever you want, honey."
"Will you stop calling me that? I have a name, you know."
Just because she shares 25 percent of your DNA doesn't mean you have to put up with this shit, my wiser self advised.
"Hello? Is this your dog?" came a girl's voice.
Poe and I went downstairs, my knee reminding me that it had recently been separated from the appropriate physiology.
At the kitchen door was a girl with brown hair and a sweet smile. "Hi. Sorry to interrupt. There's a big dog out here. He's really friendly. I guess he's yours?"
She was about Poe's age, maybe younger, and she had a sweet, round face. A chubby girl, much like my teenage self.
"Hi," I said. "He's mine, all right. Boomer, say hello." I smiled at her, and her smile grew--kind of shocking after two weeks with my niece. "I'm Nora. I'm renting this place, and this my niece, Poe."
"We know each other," the girl said. "Hi, Poe."
Poe grunted.
"I'm Audrey." The girl stuck out her hand, and I shook it, smiling.
"Do you guys go to school together?" I asked.
"Yes." Audrey looked at Poe, who was texting. I suppressed a sigh. To the best of my knowledge and observation, Poe didn't have a single friend here. She came home from school the second it ended and never went out on weekends.
"Come on in," I said. "What's your last name?"
"Fletcher."
"Oh," I said. "I went to school with Luke and Sullivan. Any relation?"
"Sullivan's my dad." She smiled again.
Sully had a kid. Wow. And had her young, apparently.
"He and I used to work together at the Clam Shack," I said.
"Really? That's so cool."
"If you like fried food, it definitely was. And I definitely did." I smiled. "Do you guys, uh, live around here?"
"No, we live in town," she said. "But my dad owns the boatyard, so I'm here a lot."
"And how's your uncle?" So smooth, milking the kid for information.
"He's good, I guess."
"I'd offer you something to drink, but I don't have anything yet. Do you want some water?"
"Oh, no, that's okay! I just wanted to say hi and make sure this great dog had a person. I love dogs."
"Poe, did you hear that? She loves dogs, just like you."
"I hate dogs."
"Except Boomer, of course," I said. On cue, Boomer pushed his nose against her hip.
"Are you gonna stay here, too, Poe?" Audrey asked.
"No. I'm not." Her eyes flickered to me in an unspoken challenge.
"Sometimes she is," I said. "I hope so, anyway. And you can come over anytime, Audrey."
"Thanks," she said, her face lighting up. "This is the coolest place ever, don't you think?"
"I do! I feel so lucky it was for rent."
She smiled again. "Well, it was really nice to meet you. See you at school, Poe."
Poe looked up. "Yeah. See you, Audrey."
I peeked out the door and watched her walk away (and to make sure she didn't fall off the dock and drown). "She's awfully nice."
Nothing from Poe.
"Don't you think so?" I prodded.
"She's fine."
"Maybe you guys could be--"
"Stop. No matchmaking."
"I just think it would be nice if you--"
"Nora. Stop moving your lips."
I felt my eye twitch. "Want to take me to the grocery store, sweetie-pie? I mean Poe?" It occurred to me that
I didn't know if my niece had a middle name.
"Do I have a choice?"
"You know, the Sullen but Beautiful Teenager with Bad Attitude is so 2011. Maybe you could cut me some slack and try not to be such a cliche. I love you, after all. I'm wounded and broken and need help."
"I said I'd do it."
Yoga breath, yoga breath. "Thank you. I'll bake brownies when we get back, okay?"
Thus, bribed by the promise of chocolate, my niece and I went to the market to stock up my perfect little kitchen. It was funny, strolling down the small aisles of Sammy's...more people knew Poe than me. Once they said hello to her or nodded--being Sharon Stuart's granddaughter commanded some respect--I caught a couple of them looking at me, recognition dawning, puzzlement coloring their faces. Nora? Really? That fat little nobody who stole Luke Fletcher's scholarship? The one who put Sully in the hospital?
Thanks to my psych rotation, I knew all about projection and self-fulfilling prophecies. Ever since the day I left Scupper at eighteen, I'd tried to be someone else.
It was harder back here, where memories never died.
*
That night, I tried not to let anxiety get the best of me as the sun went down. Boomer was a comfort, sniffing every corner of the houseboat before flopping down in front of the gas fireplace, which I'd turned on. Washed the dishes, which was fun, being in a new place. Read, clicked on the ginormous TV, turned it off again. Then I did a security check, locked the windows--there were so many! Locked the door, then double-checked everything again.
Man, it was quiet. At Mom's, there was always the sound of Poe's music, or Mom clicking away on the computer, lost in her spreadsheets. The tapping of the furnace, the place where the floor squeaked in front of the fridge, the hollow sound of the wind in the chimney. Even after fifteen years, I knew those sounds like old friends.
Here, everything was different. The boat moved constantly, a little in every direction, rising with the tide and bigger waves, despite its tight mooring. The water lapped quietly against the hull and rocks of the cove. I caught the distant hum of a boat heading off somewhere... It was lovely, I told myself.
And quiet. After the Big Bad Event, I hated that. I'd listened to podcasts every night, afraid to remember what had happened. Even lying there with Bobby's arm around me, I needed something to fill my head.
But here, if I did that, I might not hear someone coming.
Boomer would protect me.
Also, I had a pistol. Did I not mention that? Yep. Just in case. And yes, I knew how to use it. It was the first thing I'd unpacked (out of sight of Poe). Just the thought of it, in my night table drawer, made me feel a little bit better.
Pretty soon, I'd have to go to bed. My mouth dried up at the thought.
A knock, and I screamed. Boomer scrambled up, woofing hysterically.
Someone was here. But someone was knocking, so that was... It was probably Mom. Or Poe. Through the window, I could see it was a man, and fear crashed over me, my bladder loosening...but then in the next instant, I saw it was Sullivan Fletcher.
Who was probably not a rapist. Who I'd known all my life. Whose daughter had visited me today.
Heart still flopping and shuddering, I went to the door and opened it. "Hi," I said, my voice squeaking.
"Hey," he said. "My daughter told me you moved in here."
"Yeah. I did. Um..." Should I invite him in? I mean, sure, he had a kid who seemed nice, but a lot of years had passed. Did I really know anything about him anymore? Also, people (maybe himself included) felt like I was responsible for his long hospitalization. Then again, he'd recovered.
We were alone out here. Except for Boomer, no one would hear me if I needed help.
But I was brave and had survived all sorts of creepy, life-threatening shit. I was done being afraid (or so I told myself). New leaf, blah, blah, blah.
"Come on in, Sully," I said.
He did, making the houseboat seem a lot smaller. Boomer, my alleged watchdog, nosed his hand. Sully's mouth tugged, and he scratched my dog's ears, meaning that from that point on, Sullivan Fletcher could've hacked me to pieces with a dull axe and Boomer would watch, wagging his tail, waiting for a belly rub.
"Um, do you want some wine or something? A beer?"
"No, thanks." He glanced at my sling but said nothing. Was he assessing my weakness? My collarbone felt a lot better, but I wasn't up for a fight.
Knock it off, Nora, I told myself. Sullivan had been perfectly pleasant at the bakery last week. I had no reason to be afraid. "Your daughter seems great," I offered.
He smiled, and my fears dissipated by about 50 percent. "She is," he said.
"Do you have other kids?"
"No." He offered nothing more.
"You were pretty young when you had her." Shit, Nora, none of your business.
"Ayuh."
He didn't mention who the mother was. I glanced at his left hand. No ring.
"So what brings you here, Sullivan?"
He glanced out the window. "Just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, I guess," he said.
"Thank you."
"And give you the heads-up that Luke is staying at the boatyard for the time being."
There was that painful buzz of fear, and my mouth got the best of me. "Yeah. My mom told me. How is he? How's he been doing, I mean? Uh, is he married? Does he have kids, too? Or, I don't know, a dog?"
Sullivan frowned slightly.
"Sorry," I said. "I guess I worry that he still...resents me."
"He does."
Shit.
Boomer lay down at Sully's feet and put his head on his shoe. Over here, dummy, I wanted to say. Mommy needs you. Fight to the death, remember?
"He never left the island after high school," Sullivan said, rubbing the back of his head--maybe where he'd been injured. He looked out the window. "Well, he did a semester at UMaine, but he flunked out."
I swallowed. "And you, Sully? What happened with you?"
He looked back at me. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"Were you okay? From the accident?"
"Oh. Yeah, more or less."
What did that mean? "I was really sorry to hear about...you. Being hurt, I mean," I said.
"It wasn't your fault."
"Kind of felt like it."
He shrugged. "Far as I can remember, my brother was the one who was coked up and driving, not you. Anyway, he heard you're back, and it stirred up some stuff. He'll probably have something ugly to say to you when you run into him."
I stiffened. You know...screw that. I'd had enough ugly things said to me by hostile men. "Well, when you see him, tell him to fuck off for me, will you?"
There. That felt good. That was the brave me. Boomer wagged his tail in approval.
Sullivan gave me a long look. Then the corner of his mouth rose. "Sure thing, Nora," he said. "But he is my brother, and he's sleeping on the couch in the office, so he'll be around."
"Gotcha."
"He's had some drug and alcohol issues, but he's getting clean now."
Oh, fuckety fucking McFuckster. Not bad enough that he still had a chip on his shoulder. He was a drug addict, too. And lived just down the road. "Think he's dangerous?"
"Think I'd let him be near my daughter if I did?"
"I have no idea. I haven't seen you in seventeen years."
"Well, I wouldn't. He's harmless. Pathetic more than dangerous, but he never did like you getting that scholarship."
I nodded. Pathetic, sure. Also, I had a big dog who, despite outward appearances, had been trained to protect me. I also had my Smith & Wesson.
"You have a good night, now," Sully said.
"You, too, Sullivan. Thanks for the warning."
He nodded, turned away to leave, and that's when I saw it.
A hearing aid. The BTE type--behind his left ear, encased in plastic.
"Sully?" I asked before I could stop myself.
He didn't answer. Because he didn't hear me. "Sullivan?" I s
aid more loudly, putting my hand on his arm.
He turned. "Ayuh?"
"You have a hearing aid."
He paused, then nodded.
"How bad is your hearing loss?"
He hesitated a second. "Full loss in the right, losing it in the left."
A loon called, and I instantly wondered if he heard it.
"See you around," he said and then left, closing the door gently behind him.
The second he was gone, I went to my laptop and Googled to confirm what I already knew.
Bilateral hearing loss after traumatic brain injury.
Luke was still mad at me. Big deal (I thought the words with great bravado). More important, Sullivan had been injured to the point where he was partially deaf. If what he said was right--I'd have to consult one of the ENTs I knew at Boston City--he'd be completely deaf eventually. Maybe soon.
While I knew it wasn't technically my fault, I still felt like something that should be scraped off a shoe.
*
I woke up at 3:15 a.m. Wasn't that the time that Harry Potter had gotten out of bed to sneak into the library in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone? Or was it when the paranormal freak-out started every night in The Amityville Horror? Or was it when the twins from the hotel in The Shining... Okay, this was not a healthy train of thought.
However, it was not a reassuring time to be awake in a strange place where, just in case a recovering drug addict or rapist or psychopath decided to kill me, no one would hear me screaming.
Why had I taken this houseboat again? What exactly had been wrong with sharing a room with Poe?
Boomer snuggled a little closer, and I stroked his big head. The Dog of Dogs would protect me. Once, a man had approached us on the Boston Common, and Boomer snarled. The first and only time. I had a lot riding on the idea that my dog could sense people's intentions. He liked Sullivan, and Sullivan seemed...well, not harmful.
I picked up my phone and texted Bobby. He'd be on call. Or asleep. Either way, I didn't care. I missed him horribly all of a sudden.
Hey there. Alone in my new place. It's gorgeous. Houseboat, wicked cool. Very quiet here.
A second later, three waving dots appeared. He was awake and answering, thank God. You doing okay?
A little freaked out, I typed.
You're safe, sweetheart. I'm right here at the other end of the line.
Tears of gratitude rushed my eyes. He knew. Of course, he did. There are no lines with cell phones but thanks.
Another message from him popped up. Want to talk a little?
Thx. Anything new at the hospital?
A second later, his message appeared. Had a guy come in carrying his own arm. That was pretty cool.
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