Chapter 10
TEN
“Ugh… that’s so good,” I groan out, my voice muffled around a mouthful of cake.
After spending a couple of hours fuming in my van and contemplating my next move, my growling stomach finally got the better of me. So I made my way back to the café. Deep down, perhaps I longed for the company of a friendly face, especially with what I’d faced today.
I’m used to solitude, having learned to be alone early on the hard way, never having been someone with friends. But after my terrible morning, I’m fed up with my own company.
I take another bite of the delicious cheesecake, savoring the richness.
When I arrived, there was nobody else in the café, so I seized the opportunity to confide in Tally, sharing all the details after she asked me about how the interview had gone, concern evident in her expression when she saw my face.
Then, after Tim’s day on the boat, he joined me, offering me a slice of Tally’s amazing cake.
I ate with him, and now Tim knows all the details of my delightful encounter too.
When I explained Mr. Jones had expected a Mr. Sloan Wilson, he had to laugh at first. He assured me he did tell Stephanie that I was a woman.
He already thought this could be a hang-up in a shipyard where the secretary was the only woman.
I already feel so much better.
“That’s just so plain wrong. I know you would have done the job just as well as any guy,” Tally tells me, still seething with anger on my behalf.
“True.” I shrug. Having to prove myself to men is nothing new for me.
I’ve always known I can handle a lot, often working even harder than them just to earn respect.
However, in the past, I at least had a chance to prove myself, unlike this time, where I was dismissed before I could even introduce myself.
“North is such a dickhead,” Tally exclaims, her frustration evident. Tim quickly looks around the empty café before he puts a hand over her mouth as if to keep her from saying more.
“Shh… woman, he’s the one who pays our bills and gets little Timmy his crib and shit,” Tim teases, earning a bite on the hand from Tally. He quickly withdraws his hand with a hiss, shaking it out.
“This baby is not going to be named Timmy, for the hundredth time!” Tally glares at him.
I watch them bicker, a warm smile forming on my face. They’re adorable together. It makes me yearn for a connection like theirs, to have someone who loves me unconditionally.
Flaws and all.
I finish my cake and lean back, resting my hand on my belly as I let out a contented breath. “Tally, you’re a magician,” I tell her, and her face lights up with appreciation.
“Thank you! What are you going to do now about the parts and the job?”
“Since the restaurant is closed tomorrow too, I think I’m going to drive to the next town and see if they have something to offer in terms of work,” I reply, shrugging nonchalantly.
“That’s a good idea,” she approves, and I stand, reaching for my wallet in the back of my jeans. But Tally places a hand over mine.
“Don’t. It’s on the house. An apology for having pushed you into Satan’s arms.” She smiles mischievously, and I burst into laughter. Tim shoots her a disapproving look. “What? I need to get creative if I can’t curse him with his real name.” She shrugs.
“I want to pay you for the best cake I’ve ever eaten,” I protest, feeling uncertain about whether I should accept her offer.
Although, I should think twice about every penny I spend.
“Oh, hush. You just come back often now to drink tea and chat with me as long as there isn’t another job,” Tally insists.
“Deal,” I agree, leaning down to give her a quick hug.
The radio plays, and the fairy lights twinkle inside the van as I sit on my bed, folding my laundry.
I spent the rest of the day washing all my clothes at the campground’s laundromat.
The laundry trip was more than necessary.
I had run out of clean socks, and it’s damn cold in this town without them.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Saylor asks suddenly from beside me, making me jump. Out of reflex, I grab the first thing next to me and throw it at him.
He looks behind him at the white lace panties on the bed, which passed right through him. Then his gaze returns to me, his face filled with amusement as he mutters, “Sexy.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “What do you want?”
“Oh, come on. You looked like you were bored, so I thought I’d give you another one of my amazing pick-up lines. So tell me, do you believe in love at first sight?”
“I believe in annoyed at first sight,” I mumble, folding a shirt on my lap.
“You ruined it.” He pouts at me.
“Sorry.” I shrug, but his charming demeanor is wearing me down, which I can’t let happen.
I can’t do this.
I can’t let myself get entangled in this.
Ghosts are not my friends.
He needs to go.
“Anyway, if you didn’t believe in love at first sight, I would just walk past again,” he finishes. I look up at him with raised eyebrows, and a grin spreads across his face.
“What’s your unfinished business?” I ask him, ignoring his silliness and scanning the area around me for the sock that matches the one I’m holding.
“What is it with you and my unfinished business?” he asks me, his brow furrowing. “Maybe I like being here.”
No one likes being left behind.
I pause in my task and look at him seriously. “There is something holding you back from going into the light, from finding peace. Don’t you want to find that peace? To be in a place where you can be with your loved ones who passed, where you can talk and be seen again?”
“I can talk and be seen by you,” he mumbles, avoiding eye contact.
My heart.
“No, we’re not going to do that,” I assert, pointing a finger at him while still holding a sock. “I’ll help you find peace, find the light, and then you’ll be where you’re supposed to be, no longer alone. And I’ll have my peace and quiet back.”
I can do this one last time.
“But you’ll be alone again then,” he states, and his words cut me deep in the chest. I look up at him, and his blue eyes hold a sense of sadness.
“I like to be alone,” I lie, the hint of hurt in my tone betraying me. “Now think about it. What keeps you here? Any sorrows? Anything that makes you angry or anything that makes you worry about a loved one?”
Saylor gazes to the side, biting on his cheek, lost in thought. The silence stretches on, with only the radio playing in the background, and I begin to fold my jeans to pass the time and give him space to think.
“Well, I can’t think of anything pressing. I mean, it should be super pressing if it keeps me here, right?” he finally asks, and I shrug nonchalantly.
“I’ve heard a lot of reasons. Some of them are big, some are petty or small for others but not for the person themselves,” I explain.
“You do this often? The whole helping ghosts thing?” he asks, tilting his head, looking interested.
“I did.” I shrug again. “Now, tell me what you thought about first when I asked you.”
He laughs. “How did you know I thought about something?”
“Everybody has that one thing nagging at their consciousness,” I reply.
I know I could name a few.
“It’s dumb,” he dodges, looking down at his hands and squeezing them.
“Come on, humor me,” I encourage him, setting down the last piece of laundry beside me on my bed.
“There’s a necklace…” he begins.
“What about that necklace?” I ask, my full attention now focused on him.
Maybe this will be over sooner than I expected. If it’s just about a necklace, he’ll find peace quickly.
But why does the thought of that leave a lump in my throat?
“It’s a necklace our grandmother gave us,” he explains. “Every Jones gets one at their birth. It’s a gold necklace with a round pendant. On it is St. Andrew, the patron of all fishermen, and on the back, our birthday and name are engraved.”
As he speaks, I get a sudden flashback to the night with Nash and remember the gold necklace he was wearing. I hadn’t paid it much attention at the time, but it dangled from his neck as he was laying on top of me. I had thought it was pretty right before he slid into me.
Thinking about that moment causes a rush of desire to flood through me. I feel my cheeks grow warm, so I clear my throat. “Okay, so, what’s the story with your necklace?”
“I heard that my brothers think I lost it when everything happened, but in fact, I lost it in a poker game the night before,” he admits, cringing.
“You did what?” I ask, disbelief evident in my tone. “Why would you even gamble something like that?”
He rubs his neck, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Because I had already lost all my money. I thought I could win it back with just one more game, but that asshat cheated. I wanted to play against him again the next day to get it back, but, well, that didn’t happen.”
“How did you die?” I ask, my tone much gentler now.
“I drowned.” He shrugs, though it’s clear that the topic isn’t nonchalant for him.
I suppress a shudder at the thought. What a horrible way to go.
“How did it happen?” I press, not wanting to let this go. It’s important for him to come to terms with his death, if he hasn’t already, to find his peace.
“We were out on a boat, doing our daily business, getting in the lobster cages,” he recounts, his eyes growing distant.
“It was a little windy, but it was fine. Out of nowhere, a storm grew, and the boat got pushed around on the waves. The sky got darker by the minute, and it got so bad we couldn’t hear each other anymore and barely see anything other than the water droplets flying by.
We did our best not to capsize, but a big wave crashed over the deck and took one of my crew over the railing.
I was hooked on a wire rope on the crane that gets the cages up since bringing them up to us was my job.
He was standing next to me when he was just washed away, and I saw the shock in his eyes when the wave hit him.
I didn’t think when I jumped after him.”
I swallow hard, feeling a heavy weight on my chest as I process the gravity of what he has just revealed. “You jumped off the boat for him?” I ask, my disbelief evident in my voice.
Saylor nods, his gaze steady. “No one’s gonna be left behind.”
That sounds absolutely horrible.
And so damn brave.
“But was there really a chance to save him?” I ask, my voice filled with concern.
He shrugs. “At least I died trying.” His words hit me hard. “I don’t think I could have lived with myself if I didn’t, so it’s better like this anyway.”
“Do you know what happened to your crewmate?” I inquire.
“I was able to grab his hand, but another wave ripped us apart. He was lost to the sea. There was a lot lost that day,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.
My nose burns, and I feel tears filling my eyes, one escaping down my cheeks.
Goddammit.
I rub it away with the sleeve of my hoodie.
I had promised myself that I would never, under any circumstances, help a spirit again.
I still live with the trauma and consequences the last time brought me.
I wanted to help, like I did so many times.
And instead of gratitude, I got myself a dark room locked from the outside.
The echoes of the past are persistent, and in the chill of the darkness, I can still hear the whispered words.
Weird.
Crazy.
But as I look at him, sitting before me, head low, and his beautiful, otherwise always smiling face scrunched up with pain and regret, I can feel it in my bones.
I want to help him.
No, I need to help him.
He is genuinely a good guy, even when his brothers don’t seem particularly the same, and he doesn’t deserve to be stranded here, lost in the between.
He took a leap to save someone, to help, and it didn’t work out.
Sounds familiar.
I let out a long, shuddering breath. “I guess you know where that necklace is?” I ask him, and he looks back at me with wide eyes and hope.
“I do, but it’s a little complicated.”