Chapter 22 #2
Frankie finished off the rest of the fried clams and tapped his fingers against the tabletop, looking—weird. Nervous? Maisie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Frankie nervous.
“Hey,” he said after a moment, shifting in his seat. “So, about college . . .”
“What about it?”
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you think you might really be able to help me . . . y’know . . . get accepted somewhere?” His voice lacked its usual teasing edge.
Maisie glanced up, startled. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I mean . . . it wouldn’t be Harvard or MIT, but I’m sure there’s a college out there that would want you. I’ll do some research tomorrow. And you really should go to college, Frankie. You’re too smart to not give it a try.”
He shrugged, but she could tell he was kind of pleased. “So, uh . . . you really think there’s something awesome inside of me?”
“I did. But now I don’t.”
He frowned. “Not even deep, deep down?”
Maisie hesitated. Maybe there was more to Frankie. Maybe he had layers. Maybe—
Then the bell over the diner door jingled.
Maisie knew before she even turned that something was about to ruin this moment. She saw the shift in Frankie before she even saw his expression. The way his posture straightened, the way his attention flicked away from her entirely.
Sophie.
Gone was the vulnerability. Frankie was back to his usual self, gawking as Sophie lifted a hand and gave him a slow, deliberate four-finger wave. Frankie grinned, leaned back in the booth, and lifted his hand and did the same.
Maisie could have rolled her eyes straight into next week.
She sat back, crossing her arms.
Yep. Still Frankie.
Rain pattered against the windows of the little cabin, the world outside cloaked in gray.
Inside, Scout sat curled on the couch, a blanket draped over her legs, watching the fire flicker in the hearth.
Too warm for a fire, but she couldn’t help it.
She loved rainy evenings at home, and she needed to find comfort in the quiet, something to keep her mind from buzzing.
After the press conference, after Scout announced she was donating her finder’s fee to the Penobscot Nation, the superintendent wouldn’t even look at her. Another ranger patted her on the back and whispered, “Better start packing.” Another asked if he could have Scout’s interp job on Baker Island.
Cold, but probably right. Scout guessed she’d be here through August and then get sent off to a far less trafficked park.
She had done the right thing. She didn’t regret it. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t going to be a consequence.
She didn’t want to leave Acadia. Getting here had been her goal all along. Everything about it had surpassed her memories, her expectations. She’d found her dad. She’d met incredible, inspiring people, like Ranger Rivers. Like Naki.
She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and leaned her forehead on them. She’d only known Naki for . . . what, less than a week? And yet she felt like she’d never see the world in quite the same way. Most likely, she’d never see him again.
Feeling anxious, she fetched her Bible from her bedroom and plopped back down on the couch, covering herself with a cashmere afghan her mother had brought with her and laid carefully over the back of the couch.
Filling her mind with the Word of God was her lifeboat in any crisis, something she had learned over and over again and still had to be reminded of.
Randomly, she opened to the Old Testament.
Her eyes fell on this verse from Deuteronomy, a book she seldom read: “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
She let out a deep breath, feeling her whole self settle. She closed the Bible and stared at the flames, thanking God in the silence. A holy silence.
The knock on the door made her jump. She set the afghan aside, smoothing her hair as she walked to the door. When she opened it, there stood Naki, his rain-slicked jacket glistening, drops of water beading on his hair.
She blinked, thinking she was imagining him. “You came back?”
He tilted his head. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
Not tonight! Not now! She was wearing sweatpants and a wrinkled T-shirt. No makeup. And her hair . . . it was gathered in a messy bun on the top of her head like a pom-pom on a winter hat. “I . . . wasn’t sure . . . I thought maybe you’d left. For good.”
“Scout, I told you once that I don’t run.”
“Please come in.” She stepped aside. “You’re drenched.”
He stepped inside, his gaze drifting over the cozy space. “Your mother has . . .” He turned, searching for the right word. “She’s . . .”
“Transformed this place with her impeccable taste?” The photos, the carefully placed decorative touches—each detail felt deliberate, infused with care.
This was the kind of thing that softened Scout’s heart toward her mother.
She had always created a home for Scout, wherever she happened to live.
“Yeah, she’s got a gift for sure. One I did not inherit. ”
He let out a quiet chuckle.
“She confessed to me that she had a talk with you earlier today,” Scout said. “I apologize for anything offensive she might’ve said.”
“Nothing I haven’t already heard from my own father. Most don’t see people; they see stereotypes.”
“True. And then there’s my mother. She doesn’t see people as they are. She sees people as she is.”
He gave a slight nod, then a softness settled into his expression. “Your mother loves you.”
Scout hesitated, watching the way his eyes warmed when he said it.
Was that tenderness because he’d grown up without a mother?
Hers drove her absolutely crazy, but at least she was still around.
Maybe she should try to appreciate her more—stop blaming her for driving Dad away.
She did, but it didn’t take much for Dad to stay away.
Maybe she should try to forgive her for being such a smother-mother. Take the high road.
“She does mean well,” Scout admitted. “She’s just . . . a lot.”
“That, I gathered.”
“She also said she thinks you’d make a fine lawyer.”
His eyebrows lifted, ever so slightly—barely noticeable, but enough to make Scout think he was pleased by Mother’s compliment.
Why, she was getting to know him, catching on to those subtle reactions.
She swallowed a smile. “Would you believe my parents are having dinner together right now?” She lifted her hands in mock surrender.
“Not sure they’ll make it without a major blowup, but who knows? Miracles can happen.”
“Miracles do happen,” Naki said quietly.
“Can I offer you a refreshment? There’re still a few triple ginger cookies from somebody’s grandmother . . . and there’s sweet tea. There’s always sweet tea here.”
“No, thank you.”
They stood there awkwardly, until she realized he was dripping water on the floor. “You need a towel.” She dashed into her tiny bathroom and came back with her only towel. As he dried himself off, Scout went to the couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside her. “Come by the fire and dry off.”
He hesitated a moment, then joined her. “This isn’t the same couch.”
“No sir, it’s not. My mother’s doin’. She had this one delivered today. I don’t even know what happened to that lumpy couch. Not sure I want to know.”
His long legs stretched out, and the firelight caught the sharp lines of his face. From his back pocket he pulled out a copy of the Bar Harbor Gazette. “Special edition.” He handed it to her. The headline read “Ranger Johnson Strikes Gold—and Gives It Away: A Historic Gift to the Penobscot Nation.”
Scout was stunned. She noticed the byline belonged to Chase Fletcher. She hadn’t even realized he was at the press conference. Nice work, Chase. Very, very nice. She put the paper on the coffee table. “That finder’s fee is just a drop in the bucket.”
His lips twitched, almost a smile. “You didn’t read the full article. So another miracle occurred today. The deputy director of the National Park Service arrived at the press conference just as it got started.”
“He was there? There were so many people that . . . well, I just saw a sea of blurry faces.” She tipped her head. “Were you there?”
“In the back.”
How could she have missed seeing him, as tall as he was? Then again, there was so much going on that she could barely keep two thoughts strung together.
Something Naki said tickled the back of her mind. Wasn’t Frankie’s father the deputy director of the NPS?
“Apparently, the deputy director overrode the superintendent and has relinquished the entire value of the gold shipment to the Penobscot Nation.”
Scout froze, his words sinking in. “Naki! That’s incredible news!” Before she could stop herself, she turned on the couch and lunged forward to throw her arms around his neck.
For a moment, he froze, utterly still, as if completely caught off guard. Then he relaxed, and his hands settled lightly on her back.
The realization of what she’d done hit her, and she pulled away quickly, her cheeks warm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
But he was smiling. Really smiling.
Good night. That smile did something to her heart she couldn’t quite describe. “What I mean is,” she said, laughing nervously, “that is a miracle.”
He was still holding on to her elbows. “You set that decision into motion with how you handled the finder’s fee. It was brilliant, Scout.”
To be perfectly honest, she had never expected this outcome. She just knew what she had to do with that finder’s fee. She knew it was the right thing to do.
“But I have to ask . . . could your decision have jeopardized your career in the NPS?”
She let out a sigh. “Possibly in Acadia.”
His words were soft, unhurried. “Hopefully that won’t be the case.”
Something in his eyes caught her off guard—a quiet tenderness that felt meant just for her. Had it always been there? “Tell me about Molly Atwul.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Molly?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she seems . . . perfect for you.”
He coughed a laugh. “My father would say so. Molly and I have known each other all our lives. But Molly and I tend to solve problems in different ways. She wants to build fences. I want to tear them down.”
Scout understood what he meant.
“Chase Fletcher,” Naki said.
“What about him?”
“He seems perfect for you.”
She smiled. “My mother would say so. But . . .”
“But what?”
“No butterflies with Chase.”
His brow furrowed. “Butterflies?”
“Yes.” She wiggled her fingers in front of her tummy. “You know, butterflies. That feeling you get when you’re with someone special.”
He gave her a long, considering look, then reached into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out a handful of pink ribbons. “Yes. Butterflies.”
So it was true. Naki had similar feelings for her. Scout smiled, looking down at his large palm, holding her silly hair ribbons. She smiled. “I owe Chief Rivers a thank-you for introducing us.”
“And yet,” he said, “when two people come from different worlds, it can get complicated.”
“So we’re complicated,” Scout said, a slow smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
He framed her face with his hands, his eyes never leaving hers. “So we are.”
Life, Scout was realizing, had a way of shifting like the tides. You could chart a course, set your sails, think you knew exactly where you were headed—then a storm rolled in and the currents caught you off guard, or the steepness of a ledge terrified you, and suddenly, everything changed.
But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe the best moments, the real turning points, came when you were willing to open your eyes and see the view. Elizabeth was so right. The best view came after the hardest climb. And that view was worth the risk.
They sat there, the warmth of the fire casting a golden glow around them.
Slowly, he leaned closer. She felt her breath hitch, her heart pounding as the space between them disappeared.
His lips met hers, warm and sure, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. The rain could fall, the fire could crackle, and the future could remain . . . complicated.
All that mattered was this moment.