Chapter 19 #2
Knox reappears with two fresh beers and hands one to Dean. “So. Scarlett. Dean says you’re the reason the island’s crawling with metal detectors.”
“Knox.” Once again, Dean’s voice carries a warning.
“What? It’s a valid question. I flew in and the harbor looks like spring break. Bev at the gift shop said they sold out of ‘I Dig Port Haven’ t-shirts. There’s a waiting list.”
I wince. “That’s on me. The treasure hunt posts got bigger than I expected.”
“Bigger than Malcolm expected too, I bet.” Knox’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Guy’s been trying to monetize that story for decades. Never quite landed it. Then you show up, and suddenly he’s got the audience he’s always wanted.”
He doesn’t seem to be blaming me like some others, but my chest still tightens.
I have upended all of their lives. Even Knox’s, and he’s been states away.
Bodhi drifts into the circle then, beer in hand, and the temperature shifts a degree. He looks at Dean’s hand wrapped around mine, then at Dean, and says nothing, which is somehow worse than if he’d said something.
“Don’t,” Dean tells him.
“Didn’t say a word.”
“You’re thinking it loud.”
“I told you to keep her away from the family.” Bodhi tips his bottle toward me. His tone isn’t unkind, just tired. “Not date her.”
“It’s not a date,” we say together, then grin at each other. Well, I grin. He smirks.
Knox snorts a laugh.
Bodhi looks at us a moment longer, and whatever he sees there makes him let it go.
“Admit it, Knox,” Colter calls over. He’s still romping around in the sand with his daughter, but he’s been keeping an eye on us, too. “You came home because you missed us.”
“Missed the free beer.” Knox drains his as Shea joins us. “Hey, Shea. How’s the B and B?”
She wipes her hands on a dish towel tucked into her waistband. “Booked solid through June. Half of it’s your doing. You keep talking the place up to your Montana friends. You have to stop telling them to ask for the Knox discount, though.”
Knox grins.
She shakes her head and opens her mouth like she’s going to say more, then hesitates. Then, gentler: “Speaking of Montana. Any word from Hollis?”
That easy grin drops. “No. Called every hospital in a three-state radius. Filed a report. Hired a guy. She walked out of Haven House the night Haven House burned, and nobody’s seen her since.
” He turns his empty bottle in his hands.
“She was director of a place for four years, kept hundreds of women safe, and the one time she needs somewhere safe to go, she vanishes instead of calling me.”
“You don’t know for sure that she didn’t want to call you,” Piper says from her blanket, having obviously been eavesdropping rather than reading.
“Yes, I do. If she wanted me to know where she is, she would have called.”
Nobody argues that one.
“She’ll turn up,” Knox says, more to himself than anyone else. “She’s the most capable person I’ve ever met. She’s not— she’s fine. Somewhere. She’s fine.”
“Of course she is,” Shea says and touches his shoulder, and although her tone is comforting, there’s an undercurrent of doubt.
“Anyway.” Knox scrubs a hand down his face and hauls the grin back into place. “Somebody get me another beer before I get maudlin. Dean, have you told Scarlett about the goose?”
“She’s met the goose,” Dean mutters and takes a swig from his bottle.
“But I bet you haven’t told her about the time he pantsed you…”
The night goes on like that, with the Haven siblings teasing Dean and each other.
The food is good. Shea’s foil packets hold salmon and potatoes and herbs from the bed-and-breakfast’s garden, charred at the edges, steaming when opened.
Wren has brought blueberry hand pies that collapse into warm, jammy messes the second you bite into them.
Henry produces a thermos of something that smells like apples and cinnamon and burns all the way down.
I eat standing up, plate balanced on my palm, watching the Havens move around their corner of the beach like people who’ve been doing this for decades.
Colter herding Hazel toward a blanket. Piper arranging desserts on a folding table, lining them up like she color-codes her bookshelves.
Bodhi checking his phone every ninety seconds, then forcing himself to put it away.
And there, in the shadows: Zade.
I hadn’t noticed him at first. He stands apart from the family cluster, just out of reach of the fire’s light, back to a driftwood log, arms crossed, a beer untouched beside him.
Coast Guard T-shirt gear under an unzipped jacket, his posture military-straight even at rest. He watches the fire like he’s reading something in the flames the rest of us can’t see.
Dean follows my gaze. “Don’t take it personally if he doesn’t talk to you. He doesn’t talk to anybody.”
“He talks to Mimi,” I say. At dinner, she was the only one he seemed completely comfortable around.
“Yeah, he does. They understand each other. Don’t ask me why. Some people just speak the same language.”
I want to ask what language that is. What Zade and Mimi have in common that the others don’t.
But Dean is already moving, drawn toward a commotion at the cooler where Knox and Colter are engaged in what appears to be a very serious debate about the proper way to open a beer bottle without an opener.
I let him go and circulate. I find Corey Merrick at the edge of the Haven territory, which is either brave or stupid given the family history, standing with a red cup and a fleece pulled tight against the chill.
“Hey,” she says when she sees me. “You survived the storm.”
“Barely. Dean’s boat took a beating.”
“That boat has taken worse.”
Abel and Theodore Merrick drift over to join us.
“Malcolm has been looking for you,” Theodore tells me with pity in his soft eyes.
A spike of nerves shoots through me. “Is he here?”
“Not yet. You’re safe.”
I relax a degree. “Good. I’m not ready to deal with him yet.
” I’ve already decided I no longer want to be part of his documentary, but haven’t decided how to break it to him.
Corey turns to Abel and pokes him in the ribs.
“You know, for a guy who’s been on this island his whole life, you still dress like you’re going to a funeral. ”
“Uh, rude!” Abel shoots back, clutching his chest with mock offense. “I’ll have you know this is a very tasteful cardigan.”
“That’s where Captain gets it,” I say without thinking.
Corey blinks at me. “Gets what?”
“Rude.” I mimic the parrot’s squawk, and Abel’s face breaks into a grin.
“Oh, yeah, that’s from me.”
I love discovering where all of Captain’s phrases come from. “Fuck me sideways” from Mimi. “Rude” from Abel. The fog horn.
The bird has been inviting me into their world long before any of the people did.
Theodore slings an arm around his son’s shoulders. “That’s been his catchphrase since he was in diapers. I remember this one time—”
“Dad. No.” Abel’s face flames and he grabs Theodore, steering him away. “We’re leaving before he starts with the embarrassing stories.”
I watch them go. Abel says something, gesturing with his free hand, and Theodore’s face lights with a grin. He reaches out and adjusts his son’s collar, a gesture so casual and tender it makes my throat tight.
“I’m glad they’re close. When I found out he’s a Merrick, then met Malcolm and Jasper, I was worried he’d been disowned and that’s why he works for the Havens.” I realize too late who I’m talking to, but a quick peek at Corey shows she’s nodding.
“Yeah, Jasper’s not exactly father of the year material. Be glad his son Blake is in San Francisco. He’s worse. And my dad…” She trails off and takes a sip of her drink. “Well, let’s just say Theodore and Abel are the best of us.”
She sounds sad when she says it. “Are you okay?”
She shrugs. “Fine. Just—it’s complicated. Being a Merrick in this town. You’re either with them or against them, and I’ve never been good at picking a side.”
I think about Evangeline, standing on a pier twice a week for years, watching a man she couldn’t have. I think about what it costs to stand in the space between two worlds and belong to neither.
“Maybe you don’t have to pick,” I say.
Corey looks at me. The firelight catches the gold in her eyes. “Easy for you to say. You get to leave.”
She doesn’t mean the words cruelly. She means them as fact. I am leaving. I’ve always been leaving.
Corey sees something on my face and softens. “Sorry. That was—I’m just in a mood tonight. Ignore me.” She tips her cup toward the fire. “Go find your guy. He’s been watching you like I’m going to kidnap you.”
I turn. Dean is watching from across the fire with Bodhi beside him. Both men are scowling. I laugh and turn back to Corey to crack a joke, but she’s gone.
Then I see why.
Malcolm has arrived, Jasper beside him, watch glinting in the firelight. They haven’t spotted me yet, but I don’t want to take the chance. I hurry back toward the safety of the Haven family. Maybe it’s cowardly, but oh well.