Chapter Seven
EMERY
THE CONFIDENCE I had as I steered the skiff away from my dock and Reid fades quickly.
Maybe I should have agreed to let him show me the marsh.
I’d never admit that to him though. He didn’t so much as smile at me all day.
Still, I can’t shake feeling that I want to know him, despite the easy sparring we’ve fallen into.
I turn the skiff around once I’ve given him enough time to leave and head back to the cottage.
I kill the engine and reach over to tie the boat up.
I trek inside, and despite the air conditioners, the cottage is sticky.
I strip right there in my living room, head for the clawfoot tub, and fill it with cool water.
It’s been an eventful first day. It feels like a lifetime since I arrived here early this morning, having driven through the night from New Jersey.
I close my eyes, resting my head against the cool porcelain of the tub.
I don’t bother to wash—I haven’t unpacked a thing.
The purpose of this bath is to bring my body temperature down.
Between the South Carolina humidity, the weak air conditioning, and Reid Morgan, I’m downright feverish.
I climb out and towel off, finding a pair of boy shorts and an oversized T-shirt at the top of my suitcase before making myself a bowl of Cheerios and plopping on the couch. It’s been a while since I’ve checked my phone, and there are numerous messages.
Lena: I hope you got there safely and are settling in. Send pics!
Mom: Hi honey, just checking in. Let us know when you get settled.
Mom: So glad you shared your location with me or I’d be way more worried!
Jason: Em, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life but letting you go to South Carolina for six months without me tops the list. I’m sorry I screwed up.
My mom and Lena are the only ones I bother writing a response to.
I let them both know I’m in and settled and exhausted.
I don’t text Jason back. The truth is that the relationship has long run its course.
We should never have moved in together. Jason is just feeling bad now because he doesn’t know what to do without me.
I did everything for him. I probably enabled his man-child behavior.
But I think being here in Tidehaven is good for me. The quiet helps more than I expected. Knowing I have a job to return to in six months also helps me relax. I’m just going to take this for what it is—an amazing opportunity to learn and grow.
I finish my cereal and wash the bowl by hand, since there is no dishwasher here.
Then I rummage through my second suitcase and find the bedding I’d packed.
I pull it out and inhale deeply. The scent of freesia laundry detergent sends a wave of homesickness through me.
I strip the bed quickly and replace the bedding with my own before climbing in.
It’s not the Four Seasons, but it’ll do.
The mattress creaks slightly as I shift to get comfortable but then, sleep finds me quickly.
THE MORNING LIGHT gleams through my new bedroom window bright and early.
I slept like a rock and feel more rested than I have in some time.
Perhaps it’s the salt air. I head for the bathroom and then the Nespresso machine.
It’s only six thirty a.m., so I take my time.
I unpack my suitcases, tucking them away in the back of the closet.
Then I make myself another bowl of cereal, eating it slowly while I examine the latest tide charts and marsh maps.
While I get ready, I consider my plan of attack, but first thing’s first, getting to the research center so I can see what’s what.
Feeling energized, I hop in my car and head for the narrow strip of downtown Tidehaven.
It’s quiet on Main Street this morning, only a few people milling in and out of the coffee shop across from the marina.
I pull into a diagonal parking spot and climb out, pausing to huff the sea air, the scent of salt and damp wood clinging to it.
I unlock the door to the research center, making a mental note to replace the tattered banner hanging on the side of the building.
I push the door open and it creaks, greeting me like an old friend.
There’s no one here but me, and for the first time since I arrived yesterday, I feel a little hopeful.
I set my travel mug down on one of the stainless countertops and pull out my phone, queuing up a playlist of early 2000s hits.
The pop sounds of NSYNC bounce off the exposed beams and weathered cabinets.
My hips sway, and I roll my shoulders back as my eyes land on the two cabinets bookending the large window that overlooks the marina.
I walk to the closest one, swinging the door open and wincing at the chaos inside. I push up my sleeves.
Half an hour later, I’ve got everything pulled out of the cabinet, and I’m alphabetizing supplies. A pile of expired chemicals and broken equipment sits near the trash can. My music is so loud, I don’t hear Reid come in until he shuts it off.
“Hey!” I scowl, whirling around to find him holding my phone. “I like that song.”
“What the hell happened in here?” Reid asks, leaning his hip against the table crowded with supplies. He places my phone back on the table and gives me a slow once-over.
“Good morning to you too,” I say, dusting off my hands on my frayed denim shorts.
Reid steps closer, examining my handy work. “I leave you alone for half a day and you change everything?”
“It was a mess,” I say slowly. “I like things organized.”
“It was fine the way it was.”
I cross my arms, frowning at him. “It’s not your lab.” My voice is terse. Who does this guy think he is?
He watches me so intently for a minute that my skin prickles. Then he lets out a sigh. “You’re right. I was just helping out. This place is your problem now.”
“Thank you,” I say, turning to put the last few supplies away.
I shut the cabinet and move down the hallway to the former director’s office.
I push open the unlocked door and step inside, flicking on the lights.
The overhead bulbs buzz to life, but they barely cut through the stale, shadowed corners of the room.
The air smells old and musty. No one has been in here for some time.
Reid follows me in silence, leaning in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space like there’s nowhere else to stand.
I glance at him before pulling out the desk chair to confirm what Kayla told me—sure enough, a two-drawer file cabinet sits beneath the desk.
I tug on the handles to the drawers. Locked.
I walk over to the windowsill and tug on the shades to let in some light.
I fix my eyes on a sad looking rubber tree plant in a terracotta pot.
Just as Kayla had said. I lift the pot and find a small gold key.
Bingo. I hold it up, pleased with myself, nearly forgetting I’m not alone.
“What are you doing?” he finally asks, letting out a breath of air.
“I’m looking for Dr. Young’s notes on the turtles.” I walk back over to the desk and crouch down to unlock the cabinet.
“Why do you want to know about the turtles so badly?” Reid asks, sounding annoyed with me.
“Because my sabbatical gives me a wide scope,” I say, straightening and meeting his gaze.
“I’m here to look at population decline across the marsh—patterns, pressures, what’s changing and why.
Dr. Young’s work on the terrapins fits squarely into that.
They’re an indicator species—and plus, I’ve always had a soft spot for them. ”
Reid frowns. “Indicator species. What does that mean?”
I pause, then straighten, shifting into professor mode without meaning to.
“It’s a species that reflects the health of the whole ecosystem.
If terrapins are declining, it usually means something deeper is wrong.
It could be habitat loss, pollution, a disruption to their environment.
They’re sensitive in ways other species aren’t.
” I slide the key into the lock beneath the desk.
“So, when people tell me not to look there, it only tells me I should.”
“Doc,” Reid pleads.
“Stop calling me that.” I narrow my eyes at him.
He doesn’t reply so I busy myself pulling out file folders until I find it. A black notebook at the bottom of the cabinet. A label across the front reads: Terrapin Turtle Population Notes – P. Young. A rush of excitement surges through me. I pull the chair back and flip the notebook open.
“Well, I guess I’ll get out of your hair.” Reid’s voice startles me, but he doesn’t immediately move. He’s waiting for my acknowledgment, and I’d already forgotten his presence.
I exhale slowly, looking up to meet his gaze. “Reid.”
He raises his eyebrows at me in response.
“Will you show me the marshes? You were right. It was a mistake going out there last night alone.”
The corner of Reid’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “I’ll meet you at your dock at four o’clock.”
I meet his eyes. “Thanks.”
He gives me a nod, turning to go and just when I think we’re done talking I hear him say, “Have fun with your turtles.”
I intend to.