“A cheeseburger?” A jukebox kicked on in the back. The muted country music echoed in low tones to the front. “You do have cheeseburgers, right?”
She pointed to the menu hanging above the other patrons’ heads at the bar.
“Oh, good. And a cherry coke? To-go, please.”
The woman nodded, her gray pot-scrubber hair frozen in disarray. She sauntered to the back, pulled a raw burger from the fridge, and flipped it on the grill while starting a conversation with the man on a stool near the end of the counter.
She studied the characters opposite. A weathered bleach-blond, toothless beer-belly, handsome jobless Johnny, and a braggart bovine. These characters weren’t much different from the last fraternity party she’d attended. Except twenty years older. Stormi dropped her eyes to the yellowed butcher block countertop. Her mother’s old game of categorizing people and poking fun at them still followed her. It had served her well even in college.
Now, shame filled her. She’d been transformed. Recognize it for what it was. An outpouring of insecurity. Probably why she had tried so hard for ten years to break the stereotype, defy all categories. The hair, the studs, the partying. Her hand touched the cell phone in her pocket, tempted to text Alan. No. Poor man. No doubt sick of her questions and neediness. Accept people, love people, move on.
“Five thirty-five.” Brillo head set the to-go bag on the counter in front of her.
“Right.” Stormi scraped a ten-dollar bill out of her pocket and slapped it to the counter.
The woman went to the cash register and murmured something to handsome jobless Johnny. They both laughed. Irritation rose in her, either from being gossiped about, or for her categorizing again.
After the woman had returned her change, Stormi stepped to the heavy door and exited. She strolled across the road, not sure why she’d ordered it to go, only knowing she didn’t want to stay in there. Huge waist-high poles looped with ropes protected walkers from the edge of the rocky bank and a bench near the end of the point looked like a good resting spot. What an idiot she was. What sane person picnicked in such freezing temperatures?
The ten men below pumped the bilge pump on the small trawler, several dirty white coolers resting near the wooden steps. They were dressed in canvas bibs, long rubber boots covering their legs. They worked like clockwork, cleaning the nets and scraping out the floor of the boat.
Two boats rested together, and the men often hollered to one another, indicating teamwork. Stormi ignored the icy breeze while comparing the names splayed across the back of the boats as they organized and readied equipment. Sea Wheat 1 and Sea Wheat 2. Father and son? But the men appeared younger, perhaps brothers?
They coupled up on the dock and carried coolers up the long flight of stairs. Laughter accompanied them, but exhaustion lined their faces.
The last man, a huge football-player type, caught her eye and grinned, throwing up a wave. “Hi.”
Stormi nodded, shifting her eyes to the landscape. They rattled by, balancing their loads between them. Their voices faded, and she bit into her cheeseburger. Good and greasy. Sipping the cherry coke brought back one or two almost fond childhood memories. The clanging of the coolers against the truck bed caught her attention for a moment. As she finished the burger, the fisherman at the end of the line settled on the bench next to her.
“It’s cold but nice, huh?” He leaned over and peered at her with coal black eyes. Dark stubble covered his chin, a black beanie hiding his hair.
She cleared her throat. Football player/superjock. Old habits died hard. “Yes, the view is beautiful.”
“Good catch today. You new here?”
She nearly choked on a swig of soft drink at his lack of finesse.
Concern filled his eyes. “You okay?”
Once she managed to clear her throat and wipe the moisture from her eyes, she managed to croak. “Sure.”
“I’ve never seen you here before.”
The other men approached, their deep voices intertwined in conversation. One of them slapped the jock’s back as he went by. “Let’s go, Dummy. Lots of work to do.”
Her new friend looked up. “Yeah, sure, Hoge.”
The men thundered down the steps in a flurry of canvas and rubber.
“I gotta go. Hope you enjoy your sandwich.” He grinned, showing his white teeth, the middle two slightly overlapped, and then he rose and followed the others to the dock below.
Stormi slurped her drink through the straw and blew out vapor puffs of carbon dioxide. Strange. All the men she’d met, all the parties she’d attended, she’d never been hit on quite like that. No clever conversations, no irritating pickup lines? Just as well. She was done with that.
Fresh start. Her loose morals lay in the dust behind her. She stood and stretched. Time to head home and find some wood for that fire. Plus, there were still boxes to sort. Maybe she’d make brownies. If she had a pan.
She struck out on the sloping sidewalk, following Shore Drive up to her house. Tomorrow she’d head over to the university for her meeting with the other professors in her department. First visit to the actual campus. She wanted to make a good impression.
This weekend, she needed to purchase a bed, maybe a few homey touches. A lamp? A painting? Her head swiveled back to the bay. The Sea Wheat 1 and Sea Wheat 2 sailed tandem away from the dock. Beautiful. Yes, a sea painting. With a small boat. The large man aboard 2 raised his hand in a wave.
***
Ake Pearson stared towards the shore. His eyes followed the woman strolling up the strip of sidewalk to the brow of Blackberry Hill. He turned when she disappeared behind the trees, and set his face into the cutting wind drifting in from the Atlantic Ocean.
“Help with the nets.”
Hoge’s voice held impatience, and he hurried to grab the lead rope, wondering why his brother seemed ill-tempered already as they hadn’t reached their coordinates yet.
“You like the look of that woman, Dummy?” Delbert’s mousey face grinned, and he jammed his elbow into his ribs.
Ake shrugged. “She’s pretty, sure.”
Delbert laughed. “Need to take you to the big town. Find you a lady.”
“Shut up, Delbert,” Hoge growled.
Twins Heff and Neff Goozerburg, nicknamed Double Goose, both gave a burst of laughter, their red furry faces flushed from the elements. “ShutdupDelbertshutupDelbert.”
Ake leaned against the railing and ignored the usual banter, turning his head to deflect the wind. Stepping into the wheelhouse threatened to set his brother off, so he declined that small luxury. The 2 steered north once it broke the head waters while 1 headed east. At Hoge’s holler they let the net out, their hands flying to keep up with the wench. Ake concentrated, knowing he could lose a finger if he lost his focus.
The flagged location drifted ahead. Ake searched the waters to catch sight of a good school of fish. Hoge returned to the wheelhouse and checked the coming weather. Two trips in one day would hopefully make up for the storm brewing for tomorrow morning. Waves lapped at the sides, and the flock of birds swarming the boat gave searching calls. Ake set his gaze on the horizon which always reminded him to pray for Mom and Pop.
The boat tossed a bit, and he turned his eyes toward the waves coming in. Ake wondered if it would be snow or rain. Heff and Neff sharpened knives behind him and readied the coolers. He checked the cables on the wench and glanced toward Delbert, knowing he hated being out near dark. He and Hoge both had wives and kids, which added responsibilities and an evening void of their presence. Shore had disappeared, and Ake wished to see its comforting cliffs.
The boat bobbed more as the caps of the waves turned white. The twins released the seiner net and the weights pulled it down while the buoys bobbed to the surface. Hoge navigated the boat to open it up like a waiting fish purse.
“Pull ’er.” Hoge yelled the command, and the four of them moved as a tuned machine.
The wench screeched and yanked in the net. Haddock flopped to
the bottom of the boat. Ake gripped the rope, mentally counting the pull. Mackerel, herring, a couple of good sized tuna. Still not what they’d hoped. But the cost of their lives made it worthwhile. They cranked for thirty minutes and hustled around the twenty-four footer to flip the catch into the haul buckets. Several crabs came in, enough for them all to take home.
Delbert set up a cutting surface.
“You daft?” Hoge yelled. “With the waves growing, we’ll hack our fingers off.”
The boat shuddered in the renewed waves, and Delbert dismantled the table while Hoge set the motor for full speed home. The wind and waves increased the knots enough to help them come abreast of Dove Harbor thirty minutes early. Sea Wheat 2 had already docked and raised the trouble lights for a night cutting.
Distant thunder sounded behind them as Hoge pulled in the dock. Heff and Neff tossed the full baskets to the team already hacking at the weathered wood tables. Delbert secured the vessel, and Ake jumped the bow onto the dock and took his place among the fish cleaners. The sooner they all got to work, the sooner they could all go home. Icy rain began to fall and covered most surfaces before they’d finished.
Near midnight, Ake took a deep breath as he entered his house. The wind had picked up and the lightning lit the darkened pole barn apartment. He headed for the bathroom in the dark, undressed, and took a quick shower then sank into his recliner. There would be plenty of rest time tomorrow. The storm lulled him to sleep.
He woke mid-morning staring at the ceiling. Mom and Pop would be up. He pushed the footrest in and stood to stretch. It didn’t take long to dress and head up the sloping meadow to his parents’ house. Icy balls pelted his hood as he strode across the clearing. Each step crunched under his feet.
He opened the back door and entered the porch. Mom waved at him from the kitchen window. The stubborn door yielded under his bulk. “Morning.”
“Good morning, Aiken.” His mom, tall and slender, enveloped him in a hug. “You sleep well?”
“Yep.”
“Hoge have you out late?”
“Of course. How’s Pop?”
Her weathered face grew wistful, but she gave a smile. “Confused.”
Ake’s brows drew together as he sat at the familiar round kitchen table. “Bad morning?”
She shrugged, patted her white hair, and poured him a cup of coffee. “He woke up searching for you boys. Couldn’t comprehend you were grown up men.”
Ake nodded and took a sip of the bitter black coffee. “How’d you convince him?”
“I didn’t.”
Pop appeared in the doorway, hunched over, hands in his pockets. “Too cold to be playing outside. Tell your brother to get in here.”
“Okay, Pop.” Ake shot a glance at his mother who ran her left-hand knuckles down her pale wrinkled face like she always did when Pop’s mind left reality.
His father shuffled through the kitchen, barely raising his feet from the ground. His button-down beige sweater reminded Ake of Mr. Rogers on the public television channel of his youth.
“You boys don’t listen,” Pop muttered. He arrived at the pantry door, paused, and then turned to meander back through the kitchen door.
Mom shook her head. “The storm makes him restless. I think somehow, even though he can’t remember why he’s anxious anymore, on some level he worries about you boys.”
“Gonna turn to snow this afternoon, the radio said.”
“Uh-huh.” She reached out to pat Ake’s hand. “You’re such a good boy to check on us. You shouldn’t have troubled yourself in this mess.”
Ake grinned at her. “You and Pop ain’t no trouble. Besides, I figure if I stick around, you might feed me.”
She laughed and Ake’s heart rose. With Pop’s old-timer’s disease, he searched for ways to lighten her day.
“Well, you got that right.” She rose suddenly and wrapped her arms about his neck. “Oh, Aiken, what would I do without you? You’ve always been the son that melted my heart. Hogan is a good boy, too, now, don’t get a big head. But you always understood things that Hoge had no clue about.”
Ake patted her arm before she pulled away.
“Hey, woman.” Pop’s voice rose from the other room, and a sad tension dropped on his mother’s face.
She snugged her best grandmother sweatshirt down over her hips. “I’ll be back.”
Ake tossed the coffee down his gullet and glanced out the window. Due to be the first nasty storm of the season. The strange woman at the dock tugged at his memory. He hoped she was accustomed to the weather, or she’d be in for an adventure.
He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chrome chair. He’d liked her eyes. Couldn’t decide why she’d caught his attention. No, he knew. The way she sat, so elegantly. Like a visiting princess.
With a deep breath, he stood and wandered to the sink. He’d do up the morning dishes to save some work for his mother, though the task might take her mind from the dismal thoughts of his father’s failing memory. Nevertheless, he’d help her out and then maybe motor by the bay to see the height of the waves.
Chapter Three
Realizing it was probably her dumbest idea for the day, Stormi quickly slipped on her shoes. After zipping her coat and crushing the turquoise beanie on her head, she set off toward town. Ten steps later, she decided boots needed to be added to her list of must-haves. But she stomped through the snowy mess, amazed at how white everything looked. Almost like a blizzard.
She slid but caught herself with an undignified grasp at a nearby electrical pole. That little scare slowed her pace down the hill, and she crossed the pressed down street near the corner of the grill. A loud scraping noise drew her attention. A huge snowplow drove by, spewing dirty snow to the roadside. Thankfully it was on the other side. She slipped into Calvert’s Grill, shook off the snow in the breezeway, and then stepped into the main dining area.
The same characters dotted the bar area with a few new faces including her football jock. He grinned and waved at her when she settled in a stool near the end.
Brillo head pushed away from the counter and sauntered to her. “What can I getcha?”
“A cherry coke, please. Large. To go.”
She nodded and went straight to the fountain. Stormi rubbed her mittens together to ease the chill to her hands. The big screen T.V. on the left blared the hockey game and most of the patrons reacted to a missed shot with dismay. She glanced toward it. Hockey―complete mystery. A sport where players could beat up one another and get away with it.
The woman brought her drink. Stormi paid for it and made her way to the door. Outside with the snow floating down, she took a sip. Yes. Totally worth it. The door banged behind her and out popped her friendly neighborhood football jock.
“Hi.”
“Hello.” She checked the road to make her getaway. To her dismay he followed.
“No cheeseburger today?”
She glanced at him. Tall and, even with the thick canvas coat, muscular. She looked away. Not her type anymore. “Nope.”
He followed her across the street. “You should try their fish sandwiches. We supply their fish straight from our boats.”
She reached the curb on the other side, ready to leave this cowboy behind. “You don’t say? Thanks, I’ll have to try it sometime.”
But he turned with her and sloughed through the snow beside her.
“You live on Shore Drive?”
Venturing into creepy. “Close by.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can give you a ride home. You live in Duckett’s old place?”
She stopped. This was just too much. Her chin rose a tad, and she gave him a cool look. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine.”
A hurt look entered his eyes and, for some reason, she felt a little ashamed. Like kicking a newborn beagle pup.
“Sorry. I guess I got carried away. Just thought I’d save you a trip in the snow.”
Her cheeks creased with humor at his face so filled
with innocence.
“Hoge always says I knock people over with kindness.”
Stormi laughed. Despite her earlier promise to mark this one off her list, he intrigued her. “Who’s Hoge?”
The man shrugged and glanced up the road. “My brother.”
“Well, kindness never hurt anyone,” she assured him. “Although a ride sounds nice, I barely know you.”
He grinned and stuck out a big rough paw. “I’m Ake Pearson.”
One of her eyebrows climbed. “Nice to meet you.”
“Who’re you?”
She hesitated and then relented. Becoming part of the landscape meant meeting people here in Stone Haven. “Stormi Zobroski.”
His grin widened. “It’s storming and that’s your name.”
“That’s right.” Her gaze went beyond his wide shoulder to Dove Harbor. The waves were white-capped, and the horizon disappeared into the thickness of the snow. Her head tilted up, watching the flakes plummet. One fell into her eye and she flicked it away. “Does it always snow this much?”
A rumble of deep laughter greeted her. “Yep. Lots of snow here. Lots of storms. You came to the right place.”
She studied his features, and he studied her back. “Don’t suppose you want that ride now that we know each other.”
Wow, he moved fast. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Maybe he bided his time until he moved in for the kill. “I don’t think knowing one another’s name constitutes a relationship.”
His brow furrowed. “Okay. Sorry.”
“As much as I’d like to continue this interesting conversation, I need to go. Nice to meet you.”
Her sarcasm seemed lost to him, and he gave a big smile and waved. “Sure. Have a great day.”
She turned and hurried away. When she flicked a glance behind her, he’d returned across the street and headed back to the grill.
What a strango. She’d pegged him a cocky football jock, but his demeanor seemed devoid of any pretenses. With a shrug she hurried through the thick clusters of snow. Her quiche would be finished any minute. A black truck drove slowly up the incline and honked. She let out a squeal of surprise and nearly stumbled.
The Secret Storm Page 2