Chapter 19
Nineteen
We all look at Nature too much, and live with her too little.
—Oscar Wilde, author
Scout drove the dark, winding coastal road as quickly as she dared.
Now and then, she glanced at Naki, who cradled his injured hand, wrapped up in her ranger jacket.
That deep cut must hurt like the dickens.
But he remained calm, in contrast to Scout, who felt alarmed by the amount of blood soaking her ranger jacket.
He’d already soaked through the bandages in her first aid kit.
“We’re going right by my cottage. I think I should stop in for a second and grab some more bandages. ”
He gave a short nod.
“Do you want to talk?” She hoped to distract him from the pain. Or maybe she was trying to distract herself from the blood dripping from her jacket.
“Depends. About what?”
“What makes you so sure we went to the right place? Just because we didn’t find gold doesn’t mean it’s not somewhere.”
“We went to the right place.”
Scout and Naki had picked their way along the jagged shoreline, the wind carrying the scent of salt and seaweed as waves crashed against the rocks. Then he stopped and pointed. “There it is,” he said. “Weeping Rock.”
Scout could see how it might have caught a grieving woman’s attention. It was a hulking boulder jutting toward the Atlantic, slick with moss at low tide.
Carefully inching their way around the boulder, they had searched every crack, starting with the obvious ones first. Scout’s fingers slipped over moss, pushing past clusters of barnacles and into sea-worn crevices.
Nothing. Just cold, unyielding rock. Fifteen minutes passed, twenty, thirty.
Finally, Scout straightened with a defeated sigh just as Naki lost his footing.
He caught himself against the boulder, but his palm slammed into a barnacle’s razor-sharp edge.
Blood welled instantly, dark against his skin.
Scout yanked off her jacket and wrapped his hand without hesitation. “That’s deep,” she said, tightening the fabric to keep pressure on the wound. “You might need stitches.”
“It’ll be fine. There’re just a few more crevices.”
Scout couldn’t believe he wanted to keep going. “I’ll look. You keep your hand elevated.” She checked each crevice he pointed to and found nothing. “Naki, there’s nothin’ here.”
At this point, he agreed. “The gold is gone.”
Now in the jeep, Scout was taking him, despite his objections, to MDI Hospital to see if that cut on his hand should be stitched. “What made you so sure that we wouldn’t find any gold?”
“Your father’s research into the story.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Better not. He’s still working on it.”
Scout rolled her eyes. So like her dad. Always just out of reach.
As she reached her cabin, she pulled into the gravel parking area and parked the jeep. “Maybe you should come in. We can wash off your cut and get it properly bandaged.” She hurried around to his side to open the door for him. “Just a warning. My mother is here.”
“Do I need to be warned?”
“You do.”
He swung his long legs out of the car and rose to his feet, cradling his hand against his body. She caught the agonized grimace on his face. He was hurting.
The front door swung open with a creak, and Scout’s mother appeared in the frame, as if she’d been watching at the window. “Magnolia Pearl, where have you been? I have been calling and texting.”
“I turned my phone off last night and forgot to turn it back on.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been working, Mother.” And so I wasn’t distracted by your endless calls and texts.
“Well, your gentleman friend waited as long as he could for you. Magnolia Pearl, why on earth have you kept him a secret from me? He is just too adorable for words.” Then her mother eyed Naki, coming up the path behind Scout.
Scout caught the look on her mother’s face—surprise? Disapproval? Both. “We’re only here for a minute. Naki hurt his hand.”
“Naki?” Mother said in a vague voice.
“I’m sure you remember Naki. He was with Dad on the Baker Island tour.” Was that just this morning? It felt like days ago. Scout slipped around her mother and blinked when she looked at the little living area. Unrecognizable. But charming. “What have you done?”
“I just brought a few things along with me to . . . spruce up your cottage.”
“Cabin,” Scout said. She tipped her head. “All this was in your suitcases? No wonder they were so heavy.”
The scent of something warm and spicy and delicious wafted in from the tiny kitchen. Ah. Of course. Mother would never admit it, but she was stressed. Sweets were her comfort food of choice.
“Hello, Mrs. Johnson. I’m not sure we were officially introduced on the tour boat. I’m Wabanaki Dana. I go by Naki.” He waited a few yards from the door, as if he sensed he may not be welcome.
But Mother stepped aside to let him pass. “Magnolia Pearl—”
Scout cut a glance at Naki, noticing how he was trying very hard not to laugh at her name.
“—your gentleman friend said you’ve been dating for months.”
“Gross exaggeration,” Scout said in a clipped voice, looking for bandages in the kitchen cupboard.
Let’s change the subject. “Naki, come to the sink. I’m sure I’ve got bandages around here somewhere.
” She opened another cupboard door and pulled out her first aid kit.
“There they are.” She joined him at the sink, carefully unwrapping her jacket from his hand and setting it on the counter.
“Not on the counter, Magnolia Pearl,” her mother said, wrinkling her nose. “Shouldn’t this be somethin’ you do in the bathroom?”
Scout ignored her and turned on the water, gently rinsing Naki’s cut. “Mother, why don’t you offer Naki one of your triple ginger cookies?”
Naki sniffed the air. “Is that what smells so good?”
Mother beamed. “It’s my grandmother’s special recipe. A family secret, but I’ll let you in on it, Mr. Nabiwaki.”
“Naki will do.”
Mother lowered her voice, as though she were revealing classified information. “Crystallized ginger, grated ginger, and ground ginger.” She held a tray of cookies out to him.
“Perhaps just one cookie,” Naki said as he eyed the tray. He glanced past the tray to the living area, and he got a look on his face as though wondering if he’d wandered into the right house.
Scout gently dried Naki’s hand, then pressed a few butterfly bandages over his cut. It would definitely need stitches. When she noticed he was still taking in her tiny living room, she offered a quiet explanation. “My mother’s been redecorating.”
“I think you mean decorating, Magnolia Pearl,” Mother said.
Rolling her eyes, Scout excused herself to go into the bathroom to fix her hair.
She studied herself in the mirror and cringed.
She looked positively dreadful. Hopefully, Naki could survive alone in her mother’s company for a few minutes; she could hear the buzz of Mother’s voice as she nervously tried to make conversation.
The more uncomfortable her mother became, the more she babbled, talking faster and faster.
A sharp knock on the front door made Scout pause, holding a hairbrush in the air.
“YOU!” Mother’s voice rang out, harsh and accusing. “What are YOU doing here?”
Scout winced, recognizing the tone her mother reserved just for her dad. This couldn’t end well.
The rumble of tires on gravel made Maisie spring to her feet. “Mom’s here!” She was already halfway out the door before Tim could say a word. He followed at a slower pace, pausing in the doorway as Maisie sprinted across the yard.
Thea barely had time to open the car door before her daughter barreled into her arms. They held each other tight, rocking slightly, the kind of hug that spoke of deep love and time spent apart.
Tim folded his arms, watching. The timing wasn’t great—Thea’s timing was never great—but he was glad she’d come.
Not just for Maisie’s sake, but for his too.
They were the only family he had, and with retirement on the horizon, he felt the weight of that more than ever.
Thea turned, beaming at him as she made her way up the steps. “Tim,” she said, wrapping him in a warm, familiar hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“I’m glad you’ve come,” he said and meant it.
She pulled back, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t think you’ve met my friend, Rebecca Woodbine.”
Tim turned, expecting someone just like Thea—a little bohemian, maybe wearing Birkenstocks and carrying a woven tote bag.
But the woman standing just behind Thea was nothing like what he had imagined.
She was older, closer to his age than Thea’s, with silver threaded through her chestnut-brown hair. Attractive. Very attractive.
And suddenly, from somewhere deep in his brain, he saw her as a teenager. Someone he once knew.
Thea, oblivious, gestured between them. “Rebecca, this is Tim Rivers, my stepfather.”
Rebecca extended a hand. “Hello, Tim. It’s been too long.”
Tim, who had never been at a loss for words, suddenly found himself unsure of what to say. He took her hand, her grip steady, reassuring.
“Wait,” Thea said. “You know each other?”
Rebecca met Tim’s gaze with a gentle smile, her eyes warm and knowing, like she was already in on some quiet joke. “To be honest, I recognized the name, but I wasn’t sure . . . until now.”
“Becky Benton.” Tim’s brain kicked back in. “The little sister of my best friend from high school.”
Rebecca’s smile deepened. “You remembered!”
A quiet warmth unfurled in Tim’s chest, a sweetness he hadn’t felt in a very long time—like the first hint of spring after a long winter.
Scout dropped her hairbrush and hurried back into the living room just as her father stepped inside and ignored her mother’s icy stare. “Dad,” she said, exasperated. “Really? Now?”
“Scout, there never seems to be a good time.” Her father grabbed a cookie from the tray her mother was holding. Then, turning to Naki, he added, “Aren’t these something else? My grandmother’s recipe. They’re my favorite.”