4. Bella Arrives #2
“I got some groceries for you yesterday. They’re in the kitchen upstairs, and a dog bowl for Charlie,” Finn says.
“We got your shipment of dog food yesterday. There’s the list of town shops, including the mini-mart, a family restaurant, Molly’s coffee shop and an herbal shop you might like.
I can take you on a tour tomorrow, if you like. ”
Finn drops my suitcase at the top of the stairs.
“We’ll let you get settled,” the mayor says. “But don’t get too comfortable. I’m sure people will start showing up, now that they know you’ve arrived.
“Already?”
Finn grins. “Told you. You’re needed.”
“Finn—” Calloway starts.
“Old Fred called me earlier,” Finn says easily. “Says he’s bringing in Silas. He got injured last night. Probably from drinking too much...”
I think of the man on the ferry who said Silas got attacked last night.
“Did you say his name is Silas?” I ask.
Finn’s grin fades a fraction. “Yeah,” he says. “You heard?”
“On the ferry.”
Mayor Calloway steps in quickly. “Mr. Gray is prone to exaggeration and gossip.”
And fear, Charlie says.
“Of course,” I say looking at the mayor and ignoring Charlie, though something in my chest tightens a little.
Mayor Calloway nods, satisfied. “Good. Then we’ll leave you to it. Bella—again, we’re very glad you’re here.”
Mayor Calloway pauses.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he says suddenly. “One more thing.”
He reaches into his coat pocket and removes a small velvet box. I blink.
“That looks alarmingly formal.”
He laughs easily. “It’s a welcome gift. And also island tradition. You are one of us now.”
Inside rests a simple silver chain. Not flashy. Just clean silver with a small circular charm resting at the center.
“It’s beautiful,” I say honestly.
“Everyone here wears one,” he explains. “Part of belonging to Bloodhaven Cove.”
I see he wears one, and Finn does, too.
I realize he’s right. The ferry operator wore one. Old Hazel in the town square. Finn. Even Molly earlier at the coffee shop when we passed by. I remember seeing it on her.
Silver catching the light at their throats.
“You’re inducting me into the island already?” I ask lightly with a smile.
“We’d like you to stay,” he replies smoothly. There’s something oddly serious beneath the words. He steps closer and places the box in my hand.
“Please wear it,” he says. “Always, if you can.”
The phrasing catches my attention. Not when you want. Not for special occasions. Always.
I lift an eyebrow. “That sounds less like tradition and more like instructions.”
He means what he says, Charlie murmurs. I wonder why.
The mayor hesitates briefly but his smile returns.
“Islands are full of strange little customs,” he says lightly. “Humor us.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to exploring a little once I settle in,” I say as the mayor walks me through the front hall. “I usually jog every morning. It keeps me sane.”
“That so?” Mayor Calloway replies easily.
“Every day,” I say. “Early, usually. Before work.”
Something in his expression looks worried.
“Well,” he says carefully, “I’d avoid running before sunrise if you can. And never at night.”
I blink. “Why?”
“The trails can be uneven,” he says a little too quickly. “Fog comes in thick around here. Easy to get turned around.”
“Oh, I suppose that could be dangerous.”
A polite laugh.
“Just island caution,” he replies. “We have to keep our doctor well!
I nod slowly.
“And the forest just past your house there,” he says, gesturing in the direction, “don’t ever run there,” he adds. “We call it The Wilds.”
This time his smile fades almost completely.
“I insist.”
I glance toward the dark line of trees visible beyond the back windows.
“The Wilds?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“People really don’t like those woods. Wild animals, poisonous snakes, dangerous holes you could trip on or in, things like that…”
Mayor Calloway slips the easy smile back into place.
“Doctor Russo,” he says lightly, “every island has places better admired from a distance. Stick to the harbor, the trail on the water and the streets around Hunt’s Harbor and you’ll be fine.”
He and Finn step onto the porch to leave. Finn gives me a quick salute. “Welcome to Bloodhaven Cove,” he says. “Try not to die your first week. It sets a bad precedent.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say with a laugh.
They leave, the door closing behind them with a soft, final click. For a moment, the house is completely silent.
Charlie trots around, shakes himself, and looks up at me expectantly. We’ve survived worse places than this, Bella.
“We have,” I say, exhaling slowly and thinking of several small apartments. “We did it, boy!”
He wags his tail and surveys the room carefully. I approve of this arrangement, he decides. Large windows. Strong floorboards. Possible ghost.
“Just because it’s old and Victorian, doesn’t mean there are ghosts,” I laugh.
I move deeper into the house, running a hand along the wall as I go, feeling the age in the wood. There’s something comforting about it. Solid. Enduring. It has good vibes.
I poke into the various exam rooms and medical quarters. I’ll look at them more closely later and decide what supplies to order. I walk back to the front window that looks out over the town.
The fog is thicker now, rolling in off the water, softening the edges of everything. Lights are beginning to flicker on in the distance even though it’s only afternoon. Maybe they should have called this island Foggy Bay, I think.
Beyond my house and the harbor, barely visible through the gray, the cliffs rise. For a second, I think I see a figure in the distance, standing at the edge.
Tall. Still. Watching.
I blink, and the fog shifts, swallowing the shape.
“What was that?” I mutter.
Charlie looks at me. Take a breath, Bella.
“Okay, get’s go unpack and check out upstairs, Charlie,” I say as he bounds upstairs ahead of me.
I suddenly think of my recurring dream as I walk up the old staircase. Maybe because this house reminds me a little of the one I grew up in, and the one in the dream. Maybe because memories flood in when you make room for them, when you are in new surroundings…
I’ve had this particular dream for years, since I was thirteen. Not every night, of course and not even frequently. But enough that I remember it.
The room is always the same in the dream—dark wood, high ceilings, something old and expensive in the air. I never see him clearly. Just a shape. A presence. A tall man in shadow facing me.
But I always hear his voice clearly. Deep and low, controlled in an elegant, old-fashioned way. Familiar in a way that makes no sense.
“You found your way back to me,” he always says. And then a deep bell rings in the distance.
I always wake up when the bell tolls, before I can answer the man. I always wake up with the same thought—
I know him.
I’m not sure why I think of this old dream, but now I turn my attention to my new home.