Chapter 8
Justin made the call on Tuesday morning, before the bar opened.
He sat on the small porch of his cottage, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. The sun was already warm, the air thick with the smell of jasmine from the neighbor's yard. He'd been thinking about it all night, turning it over in his mind, trying to decide if he was overreacting.
He wasn't. He knew he wasn't.
The thing with Ray had been stable for two years. Two years of the same routine. Ray came in around eight, sat in his corner, nursed his Jameson, and left around ten. He didn't talk to anyone. He didn't cause trouble. He was as predictable as the tide.
But Justin had heard the stories.
Paula had told him some of it, back when Ray first started coming to Shorebirds.
How Ray had been different before his time in the military.
Funny, charming, the kind of guy who lit up a room.
How he'd come back from his second tour changed.
Quieter. Angrier. How he'd tried to hold it together for a while, for his wife and daughter, but something inside him had broken.
There had been incidents. A bar fight in Fort Myers, back when Ray was still drinking heavily. Another one at a VFW hall, where he'd put a man in the hospital. Paula hadn't gone into details, but her voice had gone tight when she talked about it.
“He's not dangerous,” she'd said. “Not really. But when he's triggered, when something sets him off, he doesn't know how to stop. The anger just takes over.”
That was three years ago. Ray had gotten help after that, or at least he'd tried. He'd seen a therapist for a while and cut back on the drinking. He wasn't the same man he'd been in those dark days. But Paula had made Justin promise anyway.
“If anything ever changes,” she'd said. “If he starts drinking more, or if someone pushes him too hard. Call me. I need to know.”
Nothing had changed. Until now.
Justin took a sip of his coffee and stared at Paula's name on his phone screen.
Was Merritt really a threat? She hadn't done anything, except watch and ask questions. She was curious, not aggressive, and she didn’t push.
But he was convinced that was enough to start trouble.
Justin had seen it happen once, about a year ago.
A woman at the bar, a tourist, had tried to talk to Ray.
She'd been friendly, well-meaning. She'd asked him if he wanted company, if he was okay sitting alone.
Ray had stood up so fast his chair fell over.
He hadn't said anything, just looked at her with those dead eyes, and the woman had backed away, frightened.
Ray had left and didn't come back for a week.
That was the closest Justin had seen him to losing control. And it had been over something small. Just a question. Just someone trying to be kind.
Merritt was kind too. But she was also persistent. He could see it in her eyes, the way she kept circling back to Ray in conversation. She wanted to understand him. She wanted to help.
And that was dangerous.
He pressed the call button before he could talk himself out of it.
Paula answered on the third ring. “Justin. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything's fine. Ray's fine.” He paused. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up about something.”
“I'm listening.”
He told her about Merritt. The new bartender. The way she watched Ray. The questions she asked. The look in her eyes that said she wasn't going to let this go.
Paula was quiet for a long moment. “Has she approached him?”
“No. Not yet. She respects the boundaries I've set. But I can tell she wants to.”
“And Ray? Has he noticed her?”
Justin hesitated. He thought about that moment a few nights ago, when Ray had paused on his way out and glanced at Merritt. That flicker of something in his eyes.
“Maybe,” he said. “I'm not sure. He looked at her the other night. Just for a second. It might have been nothing.”
“Ray doesn't look at anyone.”
“I know.”
Another silence. Justin could hear Paula breathing, processing. When she spoke again, her voice was careful.
“What's she like? This Merritt?”
“She's good. Smart, hardworking. The regulars love her.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “She's a caregiver. Spent years taking care of her sick mother. I think she sees something in Ray that reminds her of that. Someone who needs help.”
“And she thinks she can give it.”
“I think she wants to try.”
Paula sighed. “People always want to try. They don't understand that some things can't be fixed by good intentions.”
“I know. That's why I'm calling.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Justin had thought about this. “I think you should come by. Meet her. Talk to her. Not to scare her off, but to help her understand. What Ray's been through. Why he needs to be left alone.”
“You want me to tell her about him?”
“Not everything. Just enough. Enough so she knows this isn't something she can solve.”
Paula was quiet again. Justin waited, letting her think.
“I'll come by this week,” she said finally. “Maybe Thursday. That's my day off.”
“Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet. I don't know if it'll help.” She paused. “This girl. Merritt. You trust her?”
Justin thought about it. He thought about the way Merritt worked, the way she treated the customers, the way she'd shown up on her day off just because she wanted to be there. He thought about the way she talked about her father, the warmth in her voice, the easy love.
“Yeah,” he said. “I trust her. She's not trying to cause trouble. She just doesn't know what she's walking into.”
“Then I'll try to explain it to her. Gently.”
“That's all I'm asking.”
“All right. Thursday. Afternoon, before the dinner rush?”
“That works. I'll make sure she's here.”
“Okay.” Paula hesitated. “Justin? Thank you for calling. I know it's not easy, keeping an eye on him. But it means a lot that you do.”
“He's a good man,” Justin said. “Whatever happened to him, whatever he did, he's still a good man. I can see that.”
“He is.” Paula's voice was thick. “He just forgot how to believe it.”
They said goodbye and hung up. Justin sat on his porch for a while longer, finishing his coffee, watching the morning light shift through the trees.
He'd done the right thing. He was sure of it.
But part of him wondered what would happen when Paula and Merritt met. Two women who both cared about Ray in different ways. One who'd spent years watching him fade away, powerless to stop it. One who'd just arrived and didn't know yet that some people couldn't be saved.
Maybe Paula could make her understand. Maybe Merritt would back off and let Ray have his solitude.
Or maybe something else would happen. Something none of them could predict.
Justin stood up and went inside to shower. He had a bar to open.
Paula walked into Shorebirds on Thursday at three-fifteen.
Justin spotted her immediately. She had the same sharp eyes as Ray, the same dark hair, though hers was shorter and threaded with silver.
He raised a hand in greeting and she nodded, making her way to the bar. The place was nearly empty, just a couple of tourists finishing a late lunch and an older man reading a newspaper in the corner. Perfect timing.
“Thanks for coming,” Justin said, setting a glass of ice water in front of her.
“You sounded worried on the phone.” Paula took a sip and glanced around the room. “Where is she?”
“Upstairs. I told her to come down around three-thirty. Thought you might want a few minutes first.”
Paula nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the condensation on the glass. She looked tired. The kind of tired that went deeper than a long shift at work. Justin had seen that look before on his grandfather's face in the months after June died. The weight of loving someone you couldn't help.
“Tell me again,” she said. “About this girl.”
“Merritt. She's been here about two weeks. Good worker, quick learner. The customers like her.” Justin wiped down the bar, more for something to do with his hands than because it needed cleaning.
“She lost her mother recently. Spent years taking care of her.
I think that's part of why she's drawn to Ray. She recognizes something.”
“The broken bird syndrome.”
“What?”
Paula smiled, though there was no humor in it.
“It's what my ex-husband used to call it.
Some people see someone hurting and they can't walk away.
They have to try to fix it, even when there's nothing they can do.” She shook her head.
“I used to be like that. Before Ray taught me that some things can't be fixed by wanting them to be.”
Justin thought about Merritt, about the way she watched Ray from across the room. The quiet determination in her eyes. “She's not pushy about it. She hasn't tried to approach him or force a conversation. She just…notices him.”
“That might be worse.”
“How so?”
“Because if she pushed, Ray would shut her out.
He'd walk away and that would be the end of it.
But if she's patient, if she just keeps being present without demanding anything…” Paula trailed off, staring at the water glass.
“That's how you get under his defenses. Slowly. Without him realizing it's happening.”
The back door opened and footsteps sounded on the stairs. Justin straightened. “That's her.”
Merritt appeared a moment later, her hair still damp from a shower, wearing jeans and a soft gray T-shirt. She smiled when she saw Justin, then noticed Paula and tilted her head with curiosity.
“Merritt, this is Paula Maguire,” Justin said. “She's a regular. Comes in on Tuesday afternoons usually, but she had the day off today.”
He watched Merritt's face as she processed the last name. Saw the flicker of recognition. Maguire. The same as Ray.
“Nice to meet you.” Merritt extended her hand, her voice warm but careful. “Can I get you anything? A glass of wine, maybe?”
“Water's fine for now.” Paula shook her hand, holding it a beat longer than necessary, studying Merritt's face with those sharp eyes. “Justin tells me you're new to the island.”
“About two weeks. I came down from Maine.”