Chapter 4
JACK
Less than ten minutes after locking up the restaurant, my truck was bouncing down the driveway that led to the cabin where I’d been living the last five months, the smell of pine filling the cab through the open windows.
When I first moved to Pine Harbor eight months ago, I’d lived in a room above the restaurant.
There was a whole apartment up there. Two bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, a kitchen, large living area with a deck that gave incredible views over the town and harbor.
The whole building belonged to Hannah, and even though she wasn’t there full-time, flitting between the city and the bay as needed, it didn’t feel right sharing the apartment with her.
‘You’re abandoning me now too?’ she’d accused me with tears in her eyes when I’d informed her that I was moving out.
‘That’s not fair,’ I’d chided her. ‘The only reason I’m here in Pine Harbor is for you, remember? You’re still going to see me every day. I just think we could both do with our own space.’
‘You’re not even going to ask me how I feel about it? You’ve already made your mind up?’
I’d nodded. ‘Signed the lease today.’
‘I don’t want you to go.’
‘I really think it’s for the best.’
‘For you, maybe,’ she’d shot back, and in the morning, she’d been gone. I never knew how long she’d be gone, but she always came back eventually, acting like nothing had happened, and I was happy to play along with that. It was easier than always fighting.
At the top of the driveway, I swung around the last corner and my headlights illuminated a couple of branches that had come down across the track.
Big trees dotted the property and were prone to dropping a few branches every time we had high winds, as we’d had the night before.
I left the truck running while I dragged them off the drive and piled them up in the undergrowth.
Tomorrow I’d bring the saw and chop them into firewood for Moira for next winter.
The lawns needed mowing again soon too. It wasn’t part of the deal, property maintenance, but I liked doing it, and I knew Moira appreciated it.
The cabin was warm and homey and just as you’d imagine an oceanside cabin in Maine to be.
It came fully furnished, and although some of the furnishings wouldn’t have been my own choice – like the old duck decoys in rows on top of the beams in the roof, or the shower curtain with its moose pattern that matched the moose lamps and moose kitchen utensil holder – I was just grateful I didn’t have to bother with any of it myself.
Interior design had never been a passion of mine, and the furnishings from the apartment I’d left behind in the city to move here had all fitted into the back of a truck.
I’d donated them to goodwill, severing all ties with the life I had left behind.
It was ten-thirty, too late for a beer, but too early for bed.
Even if I was tired, the heat was still stifling, and I knew from experience I would only toss and turn for hours if I tried.
It always took me a while to switch my brain off enough from work to be able to fall asleep anyway.
Luckily, my first run on the beach after I had moved in here, I had found the perfect spot to cool off and destress.
I grabbed my towel and headed out the door.
Following the trail down to the beach, I dodged the various tree roots that emerged through the soil ready to twist an unsuspecting ankle, feeling the moment the ground underfoot changed from the gritty dirt of the forest floor to the sandy beach, the sand still warm from the sun.
Stiff grasses brushed up against my legs.
The cicada chorus was loud in the quiet of the night, the only other noise the gentle swooshing of the waves meeting the shore.
The moon and stars overhead were bright enough that I didn’t need a torch, although I carried one with me as usual, just in case.
I was still getting used to how many stars there were here, away from the bright lights of the city.
I made my way along the beach to the rocks at the end of the small bay, clambering up them to the edge of the swimming hole that had been carved into the rocks over time.
At high tide, the ocean flooded the pool with clean, fresh Atlantic salt water.
At its deepest point it was just over six feet, and at its widest point about nine.
I dropped my towel and the torch onto a ledge and reached for the ties on the front of my board shorts.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ the voice in the dark said idly. ‘Not unless you want to add public indecency to the trespass charge you’re already facing,’ she added.
‘Who’s there?’
‘I could ask you the same question.’
‘You could,’ I agreed. ‘But I asked first.’
There was a splashing sound. ‘Would you believe me if I said I was a mermaid?’
‘That depends. Are you a mermaid?’
‘No.’ She sounded regretful. ‘But I used to spend a lot of time while growing up imagining that I was. Imagine having the freedom to go wherever you wanted in the world. All the amazing sights you would see.’
Scanning the pool, I made out the outline of her head at the other end of the pool, silhouetted against the sky. ‘This is private property. How did you even get here?’
‘The same way as you did, I walked. The difference is, I’m allowed to be here. You’re the one who’s trespassing.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘I’m not,’ I insisted.
‘Whatever. You can argue about it with the cops. I’ve already called them and they’re on their way under lights and sirens. We tend to take trespassers pretty seriously around these parts.’
I smirked. In all the months I’d lived here, I’d never seen the cops in a hurry to get anywhere. ‘Oh really? What did you call them on, your mermaid shell-phone?’
I heard a snort of laughter. ‘No. Just my regular old mobile.’
‘Well, I hope it’s Gerry who shows up. I haven’t seen him around for a few weeks. I know he’s pretty busy though. Marianne must be about ready to drop the baby any day now.’
There was a long pause. ‘You know Gerry?’ she asked, her tone suspicious.
‘I do. Do you know Gerry?’
‘I almost broke his arm in the fifth grade when he pulled my hair in class, so yeah, you could say I know Gerry.’
‘You’re a local.’ I’d met a lot of people through the restaurant since moving here, but her voice wasn’t ringing any bells. I felt around for the torch I’d put down on a rock nearby.
‘You’re pretty smart for a trespasser.’
‘Thanks, but like I keep telling you, I’m not trespassing.’ I found my torch and clicked it on, beaming the light in her direction.
She recoiled under its bright glare. ‘Jesus Christ. Are you trying to blind me?’
‘I’m trying to identify you.’
‘Well, could you maybe not shine it directly into my eyeballs? I kind of like my retinas working, so I’d prefer it if you didn’t burn them with that damn light.’
‘Sorry.’ I turned the torch to the side so it wasn’t directly aimed at her any more. ‘Look, why don’t you just leave quietly and I won’t take this any further.’
‘Or,’ she replied idly, swimming across from one side of the pool to the other. ‘How about you leave and I won’t take it any further.’
Realizing we were at a stalemate, I changed tack. ‘OK, seriously, now, who are you? And no, I don’t for a second believe you’re a mermaid.’
‘I’m not telling you.’
‘You’re refusing to tell me your name?’
‘That’s what I said, wasn’t it? Did I not say it out loud?’
I aimed the light in her face again and waited.
‘Ugh,’ she sighed. ‘Fine. Turn the light off and then, if it’ll shut you up, I’ll tell you my name. I’m trying to enjoy the night sky here, and you’re ruining it.’
‘Deal.’ I clicked the torch off. ‘Name.’
‘Taylor.’
‘You got a last name, Taylor?’
‘You sound an awful lot like a cop – anyone ever tell you that?’
‘Once or twice.’
‘Calderwood,’ she said. ‘My name is Taylor Calderwood.’
It took a few moments for it to register why her name sounded so familiar. ‘Wait, Calderwood as in…?’
‘The lady who owns that big old house up there? Yeah. That Calderwood.’
‘So, she’s your…?’
‘Mother. Yep.’
I connected the dots. ‘You’re the daughter who got married and moved to the city years ago.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘She mentioned you, when I first moved out here.’
‘Moved where?’
‘Here.’
‘Where is here, exactly?’
‘Didn’t she say? Your mother is my landlord.’
‘I’m pretty sure I’d know if you were living in my mother’s house. That’s the kind of thing she’d definitely have mentioned.’
‘Not the house, I’m in the cabin.’
‘Which cabin? Our cabin?’
‘Yes.’
‘The cabin that’s eighty yards from our house… that cabin?’
‘It’s more like a hundred and twenty yards, but yes.’
‘I can’t believe she rented you the cabin. When?’
‘About seven months ago.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Ask her, then.’
‘I can’t; she’s gone on a cruise.’
‘I take it that’s why you’re here.’
‘Yes, that’s why I’m here. Someone has to look after the old man and unfortunately I drew the short straw.’
‘And you’re angry about that? Because you sound kind of angry.’
‘I’m not angry, I’m pissed off.’
I processed this. ‘Isn’t that the same thing?’
‘I just can’t believe she never mentioned you. We talk on the phone at least once a week. She’s told me all about Ray’s disgusting earwax and her hairdresser’s scandalous affair with a married man, but did she ever mention the fact that she’s rented out the family cabin to some random stranger?’
‘Uh,’ I started to answer, but she continued on without waiting.
‘I mean, who even are you? And how did this all come about? Surely, she didn’t advertise the cabin for rent?
Why would she? She doesn’t exactly need the money.
And how did you even find out about it? Has everything been done properly, through the proper channels, with an actual tenancy agreement?
Did she bother doing any reference checks before letting a complete stranger move in? ’
I waited.
‘Well?’ she demanded.
‘Oh, you’re asking me this time. That was a lot of questions, but let me see if I can ease some of your concerns.
My name is Jack. No, she didn’t advertise.
Someone mentioned the cabin one day at work, a friend of your mother’s, so I drove out and asked her if she would consider leasing it to me.
There isn’t a formal agreement, but we shook hands on it.
As far as I’m concerned, that’s as good as any legal document.
Your mother seemed happy with that too. She said that she’s good at reading people, and could tell I am a good person.
I haven’t missed a payment yet and I won’t.
I also help your mom out by doing the lawns and other odd jobs around the place.
This arrangement suits us both and is working well.
You have nothing to worry about, I promise. ’
‘That’s easy for you to say. But my mother is, how do I say this? She’s kind and caring, but she’s also easily taken advantage of. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with your arrangement.’
‘I’ve been living here for seven months already. Don’t you think that if I was trying to scam your mother in some way, I’d have done it already?’
A long pause. ‘Good point. I’m still not happy about it though, and you better believe I’ll be doing some background checks. What’s your last name, Jack?’
‘Garrity.’
‘And where do you hail from, Jack Garrity?’
‘L.A.’
‘L.A.?’ She whistled. ‘You’re a long way from home.’
‘I am.’ I didn’t want to go down that track and have to answer questions about why I’d left there, or why I’d moved here, so I changed the subject.
‘Do you think that now we’ve got the introductions out of the way and established that neither of us are actually here illegally, I could get into the water?
It’s muggy as hell and all I can think about is getting in that water. ’
There was a long pause.
‘I suppose technically that’s within your rights as a tenant.’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘It’s an “I can’t stop you”.’
‘So… a yes?’
‘Oh my God. Yes. It’s a yes.’
‘Because if you don’t want me to get in while you’re in there, I won’t. I can go back to the cabin, and come back later, when you’ve finished. If you’d prefer.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Just stop talking and get in the water.’
‘OK.’ My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I could make out more details about her now.
She had long hair piled in a messy bun on the top of her head with flyaway bits hanging down, exposing a long, slender neck.
Lean, athletic shoulders above the waterline.
When she turned her head, the moon highlighted the lines of her face.
Her cheekbones and jaw, the tip of her nose.
Stepping forward, I curled my toes over the edge of the rocks on the side of the pool. ‘I’m going to dive into the water now.’
‘Do you always announce everything before you do it?’
‘Not always,’ I replied, then tucked my head between my arms and dove into the end where I knew the water was deepest, disturbing the black mirror surface that reflected the stars.
The water was cold and refreshing. Coming back up for air, I shook my head, wiping the water from my eyes, smiling because I couldn’t help it.
These night swims had a way of calming my mind.
Resetting the day. As I did a lazy breaststroke to the opposite side of the pool from her, a playful breeze swirled around me, carrying the salty scent of the sea and, briefly, something not quite as pleasant.
A dead fish washed up on the beach, maybe, rotting under the heat of the sun.
Then the breeze changed direction and the smell was gone. ‘I just wanted to warn you.’