by Lyn Gardner
Robin wasn’t the only one who had had trouble sleeping the night before. After Judy had scoured the Internet at two in the morning in search of R. C. Novak, she ended up scrubbing her bathroom and kitchen with bleach and pine-scented products, their aroma eventually masked by what the candle had produced.
Judy had never been anxious about going to Indiana before. The drive was long and lonely, but she always looked forward to it. It gave her time to sort out her thoughts, to listen to music as loud as she’d like, to binge on fast food, and to even try to make peace with some inner demons that occasionally rose to the surface, but last night those demons had risen early. Appearing in her head and burrowing into her brain, the cacophony they produced had made slumber impossible, and as Judy approached the bed, she let out a sigh. She doubted she’d get much sleep tonight either.
She had made light of her brothers’ incessant nagging with Robin, but that badgering had played a part in her sleeplessness. The solitude of an eight-hour drive would be enjoyable, as would the music and greasy fries and hamburgers, but at the end of the road, Judy would once again face those endless questions. Questions that were getting harder to answer honestly as the years went by. She could no longer use the excuse of having a business to run or even a husband who tethered her to the rock surrounded by water, and when she mentioned this new venture, this opportunity to run Safe Harbor with Robin, Judy knew her two older brothers would scoff. They would smirk and then spew a list of reasons why they believed her stupid or foolish or both, before pouring on the guilt…again. Words like family, birthright, and responsibility would be bandied about, and fading photos of her parents would be pointed at, her brothers using every trick in the book to change her mind, and Judy would remain silent and take it. She would hold back her feelings just like she’d done her entire life because she had to. They were her family, and she loved them.
Judy rubbed the back of her neck, releasing the tension that had begun to creep into her muscles, and taking a deep breath she went over and opened the closet door. She stared at the hangers filled with sweaters and the shelves holding neatly folded jeans and knit turtlenecks, and slamming the door on it all, she headed for the kitchen. It wasn’t often that Judy needed a drink, but tonight she needed a drink.
After saying goodbye to Robin, Judy found herself welcoming the distance she put between them as she pedaled away from Safe Harbor. Other than with Rita, Judy never freely shared with anyone her own thoughts, feelings, or personal information. Bits and pieces about her life, her failures, her regrets, and her marriage had always been off limits. Yet, with a woman she barely knew, she had spoken openly about Scott’s adultery. It was so easy. So uncomfortably…comfortable.
Judy learned early on that it was better to remain quiet than to open herself up to scrutiny or ridicule. Her father had been an assertive man, strong in his convictions and physique, and those traits had been passed down to his first and second born. By the time Judy became a teenager, her older brothers’ domineering personalities had taken hold. Both were obstinate and dogmatic, and using their towering heights, broad shoulders, and bellowing voices to their advantage, they would browbeat anyone who got in their path.
Her mother tried to protect her, to shield her from the testosterone running rampant in the house, but Harriet had been born in a different time. In an era where women were second-class citizens to the breadwinners of the family, her job had been to stay in the background, cooking, cleaning, and raising the children. For the most part, she had done just that, but they didn’t know about the words she’d whisper to her daughter when she tucked her in at night or the hushed conversation while dishes were being washed and dried. Harriet knew Judy would always be a little reserved, the lessons ingrained for too many years, but Harriet also knew there was more to her daughter than met the eye…much more.
Judy grabbed the step stool from the corner of the kitchen, and carefully climbing the two steps, she opened the cabinet over the refrigerator. Inside was what remained of Scott’s liquor collection, left behind in the divorce. She considered the dusty bottles of vodka, gin, and rum for only a moment before pushing them aside and reaching toward the back. A minute later, Judy was pouring a healthy splash of Jack Daniels into a glass filled with ice.
As she lifted the tumbler to her lips, the earthy aroma of the coppery liquor invaded her senses. It reminded her of Scott, the oaken scent always clinging to his breath longer than she would have liked, and forgetting the potency of Tennessee whiskey, Judy took a quick gulp to erase that memory...and immediately regretted it. The liquor engulfed her mouth and throat in a heat that took her breath away, and placing the glass on the counter, Judy coughed and sputtered until she could finally fill her lungs with air. She eyed her drink, giving it the evilest look she owned, but as she glanced up at the cabinet above the fridge, Judy shrugged, picked up her tumbler of Jack and headed back the way she came.
***
Robin limped into the parlor the most wounded of wounded warriors, except hers wasn’t a battle fought on a soccer field or in a ring surrounded by ropes. Hers had involved a skirmish with the clawed foot of a bathtub and a razor sharper than she remembered, in a bathroom as dark as pitch.
She slowly lowered herself onto the sofa, groaning as a few of the Band-Aids stretched against her skin, and staring daggers at the ceiling, Robin dared one floorboard to creak. As if on cue, an old oak plank on the second floor groaned under an invisible weight.
“Oh, you are so going to have a piece of my mind!” she shrieked, and launching herself off the couch, Robin flew out of the parlor and right up the stairs. Flicking on the light switch, she stared down the hallway. “Okay, where the hell are you?”
Robin stood motionless, her eyes darting back and forth between all the closed doors in front of her. “I said, where the fuck are you!”
Hell-bent on standing there the entire night if she had to, Robin didn’t hear Fred scamper up the stairs behind her, but when he casually walked across her foot, Robin lost every ounce of sense God had ever given her.
Her scream reverberated through the house, the pitch so shrill that Fred instantly hunched his back before he dashed past, and taking the shortest route, he traveled over Robin’s foot again.
Robin spun to her left, her hand flying to her chest in an attempt to keep her heart from exploding through her rib cage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her cat, but it was too late. Her momentum was too strong, and the wall was too close.
Like a pinball hit by a flipper, Robin careened off the plaster and was sent spinning in the direction of the stairs. She scrambled to grab hold of anything to stop her from cascading head first down the steps, and when her hand wrapped around something sturdy, Robin held on for dear life. A few seconds later, she found herself dangling at arm’s length from the railing like a puppeteer’s marionette.
“Fred, I’m going to freaking kill you,” she mumbled, looking around for her sneaky black cat. Spying him at the bottom of the stairs, Robin shot him an evil look. “Yeah, that’s right. You sure as hell better keep your distance, you little shit.”
Robin straightened her pajamas and climbed back up the two steps she had just fallen down. As she reached the top, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. The hallway was colder than it had been a few seconds earlier...much colder.
Robin swallowed hard and looked down the corridor again, and the color drained from her face. Two of the doors leading to the bedrooms were now wide open. “Shit,” she said under her breath. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Courage comes in several forms. Spiritual courage is provided by a person’s beliefs, and emotional courage can be brought on by the euphoria of the moment. The resolve and ethics of some give birth to moral courage, making them resolute in the face of temptation, and familiarity with surroundings or people grants a person what is known as social courage. The last is physical courage. Encompassing not only strength but resiliency and awareness, it is an integral part of every
hero or heroine. Facing danger without flinching, some run into burning buildings to save the lives of strangers. Some walk down darkened alleys searching for a suspect not knowing if they are armed or not, and some throw themselves on grenades to save their fellow man all because their courage is unshakable...unlike Robin’s knees, which were currently making her pajama bottoms appear as if they were flapping in the wind.
“Hello?” Robin said in a whisper as every muscle in her body tightened. “Isobel, is...is that you?”
One minute passed and then another before Robin took an uneven breath and spoke. “Um...my name’s Robin. I’m...um...I’m Adele Anderson’s niece. I don’t know...I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but Adele passed away, and I inherited Safe Harbor.”
The door to Whitefish Falls suddenly slammed shut, the thunderous bang causing Robin to jump a foot into the air, but when her feet found the floor again, she stood her ground for only one reason. She was too afraid to move. The color had drained from her face. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and even though she wanted to bolt down the stairs more than she wanted the air she was breathing, Robin couldn’t move. She just couldn’t move.
Chapter Seventeen
Judy reached for her drink and drained what was left in the glass in one swallow. She grimaced at the sting, the intensity of the eighty proof still not to her liking, but clambering out of bed, Judy headed to the kitchen to pour another glass.
An hour earlier, after her suitcase was packed and sitting by the door, Judy stood under a steaming spray in her shower until her fingers pruned. She thought it would dissolve the rest of her anxieties, yet when she exited her bathroom, her mind was still ablaze with thoughts she could not extinguish. She paced. She tried to read. She even attempted to play some games on her phone until her frustration reached the next level, and anger is not a good bedfellow.
Judy stood at the kitchen sink, sipping her drink and looking around her apartment. Why in the hell did she have to be so neat? With a huff, she stormed back to her bedroom, having just enough time to set her drink on the nightstand before her cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, Judy pinched her lips together before she accepted the call and put the phone to her ear. “For the last flipping time, I know you want fudge, and before you ask, yes, I know what your favorites are. Yes, I already bought it, and yes, I already packed it, so unless I forget my luggage tomorrow which, by the way, is stacked next to the flipping door, you’re good. Okay?”
“Whoa. You sure as hell are in a mood. What the fuck, Judy?”
Judy let out a sigh and sinking onto the bed, she rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry, Eric. You didn’t deserve that. I’ve been having some problems sleeping over the last couple of days, and I guess it’s getting to me.”
“You guess?”
Judy snorted. “Okay, so it is getting to me, but I’m having a drink, so hopefully that’ll help.”
“I hope it’s a big one.”
“Big enough,” Judy said, grinning into the phone. “I have a question for you. Do you ever think about not doing this? I mean, not going home for the autumn festivities?”
“Are you kidding me? All the time,” Eric said. “And then I remember the crap Thing One and Thing Two put me through every time I didn’t make it when my kids were small, moaning about how busy they were and bitching that I ruined the family get-together. It’s easier to just bite my lip and do it than to have another guilt trip laid on me for years to come.”
“See,” Judy said, slapping her hand on the bed. “That’s exactly what I mean. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?”
“Because they’re our brothers, and we love them.”
“It’s a lame excuse.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.”
“They are definitely two of a kind, aren’t they?”
“Yep, and unlike wine, age isn’t doing one goddamned thing to mellow them.”
A smile stretched across Judy’s face. “True.”
“So, why the question? You thinking about not going?”
“No, I told you, I’m already packed, but...” Judy hesitated for a moment. “Okay, so I have something to tell you, but you can’t mention it to Pat or Doug. All right?”
“Sure. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just taken a new job and...and, well, it’s...” Judy stopped and sighed. “You know what? Never mind, I’m just being stupid.”
“Wait. You can’t just say you’ve got a new job and then drop it. What is it? Is it off the island?”
“No, it’s here.”
“Then what the hell are you doing? Running a plow?”
“No, managing a bed-and-breakfast.”
“Hey, that’s great!” Eric said. “But what’s that got to do with going home? I thought all those places were closed by now.”
“They are or will be by the end of the month.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“There isn’t any. I told you. I’m just being stupid.”
“Jude, you are the least stupid person I know, so come on, tell your baby brother what’s on your mind.”
Judy took a sip of her drink and letting out a long breath, she relaxed back across the bed. “Okay, so...so this place, it’s called Safe Harbor Inn.”
“Hey, I remember that one. On the turn at the end of the street? A big Victorian?”
“That’s right,” Judy said, staring at the ceiling. “Anyway, the lady who owned it died and left it to her niece. She’s the one who gave me the job, and she and I both agree there are a lot of renovations that need to be done, so we plan to spend the winter doing them.”
“So, what’s the problem? It’s not like the winter up there doesn’t last until April. Isn’t that enough time?”
“It is, which is why I said I was being stupid. There are plenty of things to keep me busy all winter. There’s no need to rush.”
Eric pulled the phone away from his ear for a second. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?”
“For what?
“For you to be actually excited about something.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Sis, the Judy I grew up with could never sit still. If you weren’t helping Mom in the kitchen, you were working in the orchard or riding your bike to God knows where, and you were the only kid I knew who got excited when school started. You joined every sport you could, and nothing ever slowed you down, but once you married that prick, it was like...it was like you got into a rut you couldn’t climb out of.”
“I was happy.”
“Yeah, right,” Eric said, rolling his eyes. “Tell that to someone who believes you.”
“Eric—”
“Don’t worry, no one else picked up on it. Doug and Pat are way too focused on the orchard to ever see past it long enough to notice that you had changed.”
“People change, Eric. It’s called growing up.”
“Or maybe it’s because you were miserable.”
“Please stop.”
Eric closed his eyes, the underlying plea in his sister’s tone telling him he had gone too far. “I’m sorry. So...what kind of renovations are you planning at the B&B? I’m pretty good with a hammer if you need help.”
“Nothing like that, and thanks, you’re a sweetie,” Judy said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “The Inn’s actually in fairly good shape for being closed for a couple of years. Mostly, it’s just going to be a lot of new paint and wallpaper. It shouldn’t really take us that long, but I know she’ll be more comfortable once I get back from Indiana.”
“Why’s that? Is she old?”
“No, she’s a hell of a lot younger than me,” Judy said with a laugh. “But the Inn has a permanent house guest in the form of a ghost named Isobel and Robin hasn’t quite wrapped her head around that yet.”
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me. That’s awesome! Book me a room and do it now!”
Judy smiled. Most of her family ha
d visited her one time or another on Mackinac, but other than Eric, they had only stayed for a few days. Eric would stay for a week, and while she was the main reason for his visit, his second was to overindulge in his favorite confection, and his third was ghosts. “Well, for you it’s awesome, but for Robin, not so much.”
“Let me guess. She’s afraid of ghosts?”
“She says she isn’t, but she’s clearly weirded out by it,” Judy said, giggling. “And I’ve told her a dozen times Isobel is completely harmless, but between you and me, I think Robin has just seen too many movies.”
***
Robin bolted into the parlor, stopping long enough to pull the pocket doors closed with a bang before continuing toward the center of the room. She whipped around, and gasping for air, her hands turned into fists as she fixated on the doors.
A minute earlier, she had tried once again to talk to Isobel, but she had only managed a few words before a wave of icy air washed over her, stopping her mid-sentence. She had felt a few strands of her hair flutter in the breeze of ghostly travel, and as the chill burrowed its way into her bones, it froze Robin’s thoughts, her movements, and her breath. Ten seconds seemed like a lifetime, but that’s all the time that had passed before the door to Sunset Shores, the room only a few feet behind where she stood, slammed closed so violently that a vase on a nearby table crashed to the floor. Like a shot from a gun signaling the race to begin, it was all Robin needed to find her feet, and find them, she did. Dashing to the steps, she bounded down them three at a time as she fled to what she hoped would be her sanctuary.
Sanctuary, in the truest meaning of the word, is the most sacred place in a church or temple. Consecrated, it is the holiest of holy places, and it is where many find answers, where some find God, and others finally find the refuge they’ve been searching for. The parlor was neither consecrated nor holy, and within its walls, an altar did not exist, but it had doors, which were now locked. It had windows that could quickly be climbed out of, and there were enough lamps and knickknacks to be used as ammunition if the need arose.
