Chapter 7
The ferry was starting its maneuver into the harbor.
A rock jetty created an entry into the port, the Atlantic waves breaking before they entered the harbor.
It looked natural, not man-made, and Harper found herself wondering how such a perfectly formed jetty could exist. She felt a sense of lightness and relief that was utterly irrational; it was momentary and then dissipated but in that flash of a second, Harper felt the ache and horror of her dream, the cold of her bones and frozen feet, and the despair of that single highborn window with its impossible moon.
In the same breath, all the horror vanished and she felt utterly untethered, a dawning joy building in her gut, she was saved.
Harper blinked, steadying herself on the rail, and the sensation was gone.
She shook her head. The day had been long, she needed rest. The ferry pulled into the port.
The harbor itself was small; four piers jutted out with four anchor ports on each side.
Fishing boats dotted the landscape, and she spotted the research vessel on the far end, a low open deck boat with a covered cockpit.
Harper shivered at the sight, a sudden vision of herself on the deck in her thermal suit and gear. It was going to be a cold few months.
The ferry eased into the end pier, marked by a crewman on the deck waving them in.
Harper saw a woman in a parka and a BSI cap standing onshore, hands in pockets.
She looked half-frozen. Harper took a deep breath and surveyed the landscape as the boat settled into port.
Even at first glance, the island was breathtaking.
A steep cliff jutted into the mist, and the rolling hillside was covered in wispy snow, the winter landscape blending in with the gray sky and fog.
A series of small cabins lined the shore.
Some were obviously housing maritime equipment, but a couple looked residential with worn wooden chairs out front and bright curtains in the window.
A low, flat building with a faded sign that read BELL ISLAND PORT AUTHORITY sat to the far side.
A narrow road, more a path than a proper road, ran through the rocky field and beyond, presumably to the village.
A bell rang, indicating that the ferry was docked. Harper took a deep breath, placed her coffee cup in the dish bin, grabbed her duffel and backpack, and headed up the steps. As she descended the bridge from ferry to pier, the woman in the BSI cap approached.
“Harper Haff … deet?” she shouted above the clamor of the crew, who had started the work of unloading supplies from the boat.
Harper waved back, following the woman’s lead to shore.
As they moved away from the sound of the engines and cranes unloading pallets, the woman turned to Harper.
She was a bit older than Harper, probably forties, and her skin showed the signs of a life on the ocean.
Her dark hair was sticking out from under the BSI cap, her gray eyes looked tired and unimpressed.
“Harper with an impossible last name? I’m Murphy, skipper for the team.
I’ll take you to the house.” She picked up the duffel before Harper could protest. “This all you got?” Harper nodded.
“Good, last one of yours to arrive brought five suitcases. Jesus Lord. What they think they need five suitcases of clothes for I’ll never know. ”
“Nice to meet you, Murphy. And just Harper is fine. I travel light, I figure you all will forgive me if I wear the same outfit twice.” She smiled, hoping to break the ice.
“I’ll try to get over it,” Murphy replied dryly, and turned. “Cart’s over here.” She started walking to an industrial-looking golf cart with a plexiglass-enclosed cab.
“Oh, I didn’t realize …” Harper started as she followed Murphy.
“No cars on Bell, never have been, never will be. These little gems are all we have. Luckily there’s nowhere much to go.
The village is just over the hill there, and there’s no cause to go up to the manor.
” Murphy pointed to the steep cliff. At the very top, Harper could make out a mesa and the faint outline of what had to be the infamous Bell Manor.
“So that’s Bell Manor. Everyone’s been warning me about it.” Harper looked up at the fog-covered outline. Even from a distance it had a personality. She shivered, the strange familiarity she’d felt upon seeing the Atlantic washing over her again.
“You’ll get plenty more stories back at the house, but never, and I mean never bring it up to the locals, they love themselves some Lady Bell.” Murphy climbed into the driver’s seat. Harper threw her backpack in the back and joined her in the cab, pulling her seat belt across her lap.
“I’ve heard that too. How long have you been with the team?” Harper asked as Murphy started the engine and pulled out onto the narrow road.
“Strictly speaking, I’m not with your team.
I’ve been on the island for about six months.
I came for wholly different reasons, but they hired me on your crew for this run.
The others beat you by about a week. They’ve been sitting around driving each other crazy, that lot is lost without a leader.
I was surprised they took so long to send you.
” Murphy moved slowly down the path. Harper was staring out the window.
The view of the frozen meadow against the angry sea looked like a Turner seascape.
“I was only hired on a week ago. I guess they had trouble finding a Team Lead,” Harper replied.
“That figures, you’ve got a hella boring job ahead of you.
We’ll be spending lots of time together, you and me.
We’ll be using the sonar to retrace the map drawn by the team fifteen years ago.
Doing that means a lot of back and forth and forth and back, rinse and repeat.
” Murphy turned to Harper and gave her a small smile. “Hope you’re patient.”
“I am,” Harper replied, easing a bit with Murphy’s company.
She had a crusty layer, but Harper suspected it was somewhat less salty with time.
“I suspect the team has an even more action-packed job. They told me one would accompany us on the boat, and others will run soil and water samples from each day’s haul? ”
“About right. There’s three of you and one of me.” Murphy drove over a small hill and the village spread out below them.
“Three? I thought I was the fourth?” Harper asked curiously.
“You lost one already. She left on last night’s ferry,” Murphy said neutrally.
“Huh. They didn’t say a thing in Boston about that,” Harper replied.
“I don’t know the whole story, you’ll have to ask your colleagues. From what I could gather, she didn’t exactly ask permission. I doubt Boston knows she’s back.” Murphy cast Harper a look. “College kids. This place is rough on extroverts.”
Harper just nodded, silenced by the scene before her.
To the left, a narrow path wound up the hill to the manor.
If the sea looked like a Turner, the village was a Hopper, the Lighthouse Hill come to life.
The structures were simple and clean, straight lines and shades of white, gray, dark blue.
The Atlantic spread out beyond it. Another small harbor, a quarter the size of the one they had just left, dotted the shore with only a few tiny boats anchored.
A lighthouse on the far end sat isolated from the village.
The land was frozen and still, and the shore rocky.
“The island is so small,” Harper said softly as she surveyed the view.
“A bit over ten kilometers, or 6.5 miles for you Americans,” Murphy replied. “But the bulk of that ten kilometers is up the hill with the manor. The village is a just a dot.”
“You’re not American?” Harper asked as they turned into the narrow streets of the village, winding their way through what looked to be a main street of sorts.
She was hit with a wave of familiarity. It was as though she could smell the comforting leathery salt of the pub with its carved wooden sign.
As they passed the grocer Einar had mentioned, bright lights emanating from inside, Harper shook her head that held memories she had no cause to carry.
A few people walked here and there, glancing at the golf cart as they passed.
“The kilometers gave me away, huh?” Murphy chuckled. “I’m from a lot of places,” she said vaguely as she turned down a lane and off the main street.
Harper turned around to stare behind. “Was that the movie theater?”
“Yep. Very metropolitan, isn’t it? It shows exactly one movie, over and over and over again. Right now they’re on Titanic.” She gave Harper a sardonic glance.
“So not new movies. …” Harper replied.
“You could say that. We’re supposed to get The Avengers soon.
The old lady who owns the theater barters with some movie house in Boston for the reels they’re about to toss.
Better than nothing.” Murphy pulled the cart into a sharp left and stopped in front of a small, square, white paneled house with a pitched roof.
A cat sat in the gravel driveway, a mountain of tawny fur and fluff twice the size of a normal housecat.
It scampered into the bushes as Harper unclicked her seat belt and reached for the door handle.
“Meet Polly. Hope you’re not allergic. Polly does her own thing, she’s one of many, a regular Legion. Look under your bed for dead things, Polly enjoys leaving presents.” Murphy looked at Harper. “You ready?”
Harper nodded and grabbed her backpack from the floor in front of her.
“I live in the West Harbor, so I leave you here. Get settled, have your team show you the lab in the morning. It’s walking distance, everything’s walking distance.
I’ll keep an eye on the weather; this wind keeps up there’s no point in going out on the water tomorrow.
My number’s inside. Text, don’t call, please.
” Murphy nodded as Harper got out and pulled her duffel from the back.