Chapter 15
Fifteen
In this silent, serene wilderness the weary can gain a heart-bath in perfect peace.
—John Muir, conversationist
Scout had showered, trying to wash away the day, but it kind of stuck to her.
Some things just didn’t rinse off so easily.
She’d changed into her most comfortable sweatpants and T-shirt, dried her hair, and twirled it into a messy top bun.
She should have felt lighter, freer. Instead, she felt like she was carrying something heavy and unwanted.
Eleven years. That’s how long it had been since she’d last seen her father. Since she’d last heard a single word from him.
And then today—out of nowhere—there he was.
She had so many questions for him but didn’t want to hear a single answer. As crazy-making as her mother could be—and she really could be—Scout could always rely on her, always count on her. But her dad? Well, as Mother said, he’d divorced them both.
Still, the weight of seeing him again settled deep, making it impossible to fully shake.
Then came the knock.
She hesitated. Just for a second. But she got up from the couch and opened the door to Naki.
“Long day,” he said.
Scout let out a shaky breath. “The longest.” And it was only five o’clock. But the day had started at four in the morning, when Chase came to get her to head to Cadillac Mountain. That seemed like days ago.
“May I come in?”
“Sir, I really have nothing to say.”
As soon as he heard the word sir, his face clouded over. Honestly, it was the most emotion she’d ever seen out of Naki.
“I want to explain, Scout. And apologize.”
Oh, well, that was a horse of a different color. She stepped away from the door to let him in. His tall frame took up more space than seemed possible in her tiny cottage. “Can I get you somethin’ to drink? Sweet tea?” She was, after all, her mother’s daughter.
“No, thank you.”
She pointed to the wobbly rocker for Naki, and she sat on the sagging sofa.
“Seeing your father was probably a shock.”
Probably a shock? Probably a shock? No. A shock was getting a jury duty summons in the mail. A shock was a near-miss of a car accident. This was more like getting surprised by an earthquake. Sudden, without warning, cataclysmic.
“I met your father years ago,” Naki said finally, his voice calm, steady.
“He was giving a talk on maritime archaeology at Harvard. There weren’t many in attendance, so I was able to ask a lot of questions.
Afterward, he asked for my contact information, and we kept in touch.
I started to do research projects for him while he was out in the field. ”
Out in the field for her dad, Scout knew, meant at an underwater wreck site. Anywhere in the entire world. Anywhere but home.
“He wanted me to work for him, but I couldn’t commit to anything full-time, not while I was in law school. But I thoroughly enjoyed the work. Mostly, learning from him. He’s, well, one of a kind. Top in his field.”
Yep. Scout was well aware.
“Eventually, we collaborated together on some journal articles. And now he’s finishing up edits on a book that I helped with. That’s why he’s been in my office.”
“A book,” Scout said, her voice flat. “He’s writing a book. Here. In Maine.” Less than thirty miles away from where she’d been living these last few months.
Naki nodded.
“And he’s been helping you with this gold hunt.”
“Well, not the clues. The shipwreck. He’s been researching it while I’ve been in the park with you.”
She cast a sideways glance at him. “And you’ve known I was his daughter from the start.”
Again, he nodded. “I recognized you the day I met you. Your father keeps a picture of you on his desk. You were a bit younger, but still . . . you.”
Scout’s throat tightened. She was probably fourteen or fifteen years old in that picture.
Maisie’s age. Still in that awkward stage.
She pressed her chin against her knees, trying to process his words.
“You could’ve said something,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You could’ve told me.”
He seemed at a loss to know what to say. “I’m sorry. I should have. At first, I didn’t know if I should tell you more, then I didn’t know how to.”
That was something, she supposed. It was honest.
She hesitated before asking the question that had been burning inside her since the moment she’d seen her father. “Does he . . . do you think he has any regrets? Leaving his family, I mean?” Leaving me?
Naki’s expression was thoughtful. “That’s something only he should answer. When I saw you that first day, I sensed God was up to something. Something bigger than gold or a shipwreck. He’s always in the business of restoring people. Families, especially.”
She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as tears blurred her vision.
He pushed out of the rocker and came to sit beside her on the lumpy couch, his voice firm but full of compassion. “Scout, would you be willing to see your father? Will you talk to him?”
She turned to him, her emotions a swirl of disbelief, fear, and something else she couldn’t quite name. “You are asking a lot, sir.”
“I am. But some things are worth the asking.” He smiled, faint but certain.
Scout thought of the waves she’d been watching at Sand Beach just a few hours ago.
She watched them roll in, persistent and unrelenting.
Her heart felt like those waves—pulling her forward, pulling her back, never quite settling.
She let out a long, trembling breath. “Honestly, I just don’t know if I can. ”
Naki reached out to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Just be open to it. The Lord has already started this work, Scout. Trust him to finish it.” He let out a breath. “We’ve needed your father’s help on this hunt.” He rose to leave, then stopped at the door and turned back. “You don’t read much?”
What? “I do read. A lot.” She didn’t even have a TV or iPad.
His gaze swept the small room. “The bookshelves are empty.”
“Kindle. Saves paper. Saves trees.”
His forehead furrowed. “It looks like no one lives here.”
Scout looked around the room. Come to think of it, it did look a little . . . sparse. “I . . . work a lot.”
His head bobbed, as if to say, of course. “Like your father.”
Oh no. “I am nothing like him,” she said.
But Naki had already gone.
Tim hung up the phone and exhaled. He’d put off this call as long as he could, but he finally made himself do it before he left his office for the evening.
He’d been bracing for a reprimand—maybe even a full-blown lecture—about keeping the hidden gold under wraps for the last few days.
With the hoopla about to descend on the park, he figured Superintendent Doreen Campbell would be furious.
Instead, Doreen had listened, paused, asked a few more questions, and then sounded downright giddy.
Reservations at the park had been drastically down for the start of summer due to the persistent rain they’d been having. So were tickets and tours. She’d been racking her brain for ways to boost tourism. This, she told Tim, was a dream come true.
Really? Tim thought. It sounded more like a nightmare.
And, sure enough, it was soon shaping up to be one.
The superintendent had gleefully handed him the job of calling in every off-duty ranger and park maintenance worker for the entire Fourth of July weekend.
Because nothing said happy holiday like canceling your plans to babysit gold-hungry tourists.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in.”
Maisie poked her head in, eyes bright with excitement. “Busy?”
“Never too busy for you,” he said, though he absolutely was.
She stepped in, shifting on her feet. “Pops, I just got off the phone with Mom. She’s coming to Acadia.”
Tim cleared his throat. Thea was coming here? Had she lost her job? Was she even working? He’d lost track. He loved his stepdaughter—he truly did—but progress in her life was slow. Two steps forward, one step (or sometimes three) back. “When?” He braced himself. Please don’t say this week.
“Sometime this week,” Maisie said. “And she wants to stay with us.”
Tim kept his expression neutral, even as his internal alarms went off. This week? Of all weeks?
Maisie wrinkled her nose. “And she’s bringing her friend. Or . . . actually, her friend is bringing her. Rebecca Woodbine. Remember? I’d told you about her.”
Tim had no memory of a Rebecca Woodbine. But any friend of Thea’s was . . . worrisome to him. His stepdaughter was free-spirited. Hippie-dippie. He worked hard to keep his face calm when he felt anything but.
And his small living quarters—how could he possibly add more guests? All female too. One bathroom. One bedroom.
The door burst open before he could fully process it.
Frankie strolled in, all energy and no awareness. “What’s the latest?”
Scowling, Maisie mumbled a few words. If Tim heard her correctly, she had said, “You and Sophie. That’s what.”
Who was Sophie? Tim was always confused when it came to Maisie and Frankie.
Frankie flopped into a chair and propped his boots up on Tim’s desk like he owned the place.
Tim immediately pushed them off. “You’re back on Baker Island duty.”
Frankie grinned. “Sweet! Off horse cleanup detail.”
Maisie narrowed her eyes. “Which you didn’t do much of.”
“And also starting tomorrow, you and I will be tent living.”
“Tent living?” Frankie sat up, looking properly horrified. “With you?”
“That’s right. Each evening, we’ll be patrolling the park to keep an eye out for gold hunters.” Tim gave him a slow, satisfied nod. It might be a little mean, but he took some pleasure in keeping Frankie in his place.
Maisie clapped her hands together in little pats. “No time left for Sophie.”
Frankie shot a look at her. “Who’s gonna take my dad around the park?”
Tim’s pleasure evaporated. “Your dad?” Frankie’s dad was the deputy director of the National Park Service. The entire system. “He’s coming here?”