16. Bella - Sunday Sailing
Chapter sixteen
Bella - Sunday Sailing
Sunday arrives wrapped in a little fog mixed with sunlight.
Which, apparently, is normal here.
I’m standing at the harbor dock with Charlie’s leash wrapped around my wrist and a travel mug of coffee warming my hands when Molly waves dramatically from a small white boat bobbing against the pilings.
“Bella!” she calls. “Welcome to luxury maritime transportation.”
“Hi Molly! What a cute boat,” I call back.
Charlie presses lightly against my leg before stepping forward. A water adventure is usually a terrible idea, he says thoughtfully. But Molly brings snacks.
“You’ll have fun, Charlie,” I whisper as we approach the boat.
Hmm. Floating on deep dark water remains concerning, Bella.
“My boat is held together by island pride,” Molly says as we approach. “And history. I’ll have you know I won more than one regatta in this thing.”
The kids burst into laughter.
Charlie, apparently forgetting his worry, is happy to see his fan club again and leaps into the boat before I do.
“Fantastic,” I mutter to Molly. “Even my dog is a born sailor.”
“He’s made for this place,” Molly says. “Seems like he wants you to get with the program,” she laughs.
She’s not wrong, Charlie murmurs looking back at me as I step aboard.
Ten minutes later, we’re gliding out across the harbor while Charlie plants himself proudly at the bow like he personally discovered the Atlantic Ocean. The kids sit on either side of him. Occasionally giving him treats.
The air smells like salt and seaweed and sunscreen and old wood baking in the sun. The fog fully breaks and the day is truly lovely. Looking back at Bloodhaven Cove, I see it with new eyes. My new home.
I relax but not completely. I take a deep breath and sigh, leaning my head back and putting my face into the sun.
Molly notices.
“See?” she says, steering with one hand. “You needed this.”
“You might actually be right.”
“I usually am, Bella. My husband always said so.”
“That confidence must be exhausting for everyone around you,” I tease.
“Mom’s always right,” the kids echo and we burst into laughter.
The island looks different from the water. Bigger somehow. But more isolated.
The harbor curves gently around Hunt’s Harbor, lined with weathered buildings and old fishing docks, colorful houses climbing up the hill behind them like they grew there naturally over centuries.
“You really grew up here?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“And never wanted to leave permanently?”
Molly shrugs.
“After college, I considered it…”
“What happened?”
“I missed breathing. I missed the atmosphere, the water, this boat, the speed of life here.”
I blink.
“You’ll understand eventually, Bella.”
The kids chatter endlessly while Charlie attempts diplomacy with every gull within eyesight.
Molly points things out as we circle farther around the island.
“That’s the old cannery.”
“That house belongs to the Pembrokes—they’ve been fighting over property lines since the 1950s.”
“Over there’s where teenagers sneak out to drink and immediately regret it.”
“The graveyard is just next to the far edge of The Wilds, there…”
“See the path around the coastline? That will work for your jogs, Bella.”
We round a rocky stretch of coastline and suddenly—
The Bell Tower rises above the trees from this angle. Stone against the pale sky. Even from this distance, it feels watchful and protective.
“There it is,” Molly says quietly.
I study it.
“You can see it from almost everywhere.”
“On purpose,” she replies.
That answer sits strangely in my chest. Charlie lets out a low sound as he looks back at me.
“Charlie’s suspicious of authority,” I say.
Molly laughs. As we continue around the island, the terrain changes. Very few houses. The shoreline sharpens.
And then, we can see The Cliffs clearly from this angle. Even in daylight, it feels separate from the rest of Bloodhaven Cove. Not just wealthier but older and statelier.
The beautiful mansions rise from the cliffs themselves, ornate roofs and stone walls overlooking the ocean like they were built to survive something. Or hide from it.
“Oh wow,” I murmur before I can stop myself.
Molly glances at me knowingly.
“Different from this angle, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…”
The largest estate sits grandly in the middle of it all, overlooking the ocean and the harbor. I recognize it. Not logically. My stomach tightens slightly.
Darius Hunt’s house, I’m certain of it. I’m not exactly sure how I know, but I do. I don’t say his name.
Molly smirks anyway.
“Careful,” she says lightly. “You’re staring.”
“I’m observing the spectacular architecture. It’s fascinating.”
“Mhm.”
“Everything about him is fascinating, Bella.”
I’m sure I blush.
“Who built all those homes?” I ask finally.
“The Hunt family originally,” Molly says. “Significant wealth was made back then on whaling.”
“That much money really came from whaling?”
“Oh yeah, whale oil was the primary fuel. And then shipping goods. Fishing. Trade.” She pauses. “The Hunts basically built Bloodhaven Cove.”
That tracks too. Everything somehow circles back to Darius Hunt.
“People in town seem to be …” I search for the word. “…careful about The Cliffs.”
Molly is quiet for a second.
“They keep the island running more than most people realize,” she says finally.
“That sounds political.”
“It is political.”
“And vague.”
“That too.”
I laugh softly.
“You dodge questions almost as well as the mayor.”
“That’s because I plan to live a long and healthy life here.”
Sounds like half joke. Half not.
The boat drifts for a moment as Molly cuts the engine near a quieter stretch of water. The kids toss crumbs to gulls while Charlie watches them like a deeply judgmental lifeguard.
The island rises around us in three distinct layers from here.
The shoreline of Hunt’s Harbor, the old-fashioned and weathered town.
The Cliffs above, spectacular and clearly old money.
And between them, The Wilds.
Even in daylight, the trees seem kind of creepy. Too dense, still and odd. The Wilds seem like a dark seam running across the island.
“Okay,” I say finally. “Honestly, Molly. What’s the deal with those woods?”
Molly sighs dramatically.
“You can’t leave anything unexplored.”
“Exactly.”
She smiles faintly, but her eyes drift toward the trees.
“People avoid them as much as possible,” she says simply. “You should, too.”
“Why?”
“Because people here have long memories.”
“That’s a creepy answer.”
“It’s an incredibly creepy forest. Bad things happen there sometimes.”
“Animals?”
“Sometimes.”
I study her carefully.
“You believe something’s wrong in those woods.”
Her gaze flicks to mine. Briefly and carefully. Then away again.
“I think islands collect stories,” she says softly. “Old tales and myths.”
“That sounds suspiciously like avoiding the question.”
“It absolutely is.”
The wind shifts. It’s cooler suddenly.
Charlie rises slowly at the front of the boat. He’s alert now, focused on the edge of The Wilds. A strange unease crawls across my skin.
“Charlie?” I murmur.
Not sure, Bella. Something…
Molly notices immediately.
“What is it, boy?”
Charlie gives a low growl like a warning. The kids stop talking. The mood changes instantly.
Then a bell sounds from somewhere. A ship at sea we can’t see? From an island we can’t see? It’s far off across the water, low and heavy, carried on the wind.
Molly starts the engine immediately. Fast enough that I notice.
“We should head back,” she says.
I glance out at sea and see nothing, then look back toward the shoreline one last time. On the edge of The Wilds.
And for a second, I swear I see someone standing between the trees. Watching the boat. Watching us. Then fogs shifts and starts to roll in.
And then whatever was there is gone.