Depot strained at his leash.
“Takes some getting used to,” the man said. “Give it time and you’ll be fine.”
His reassuring words belied the hardness, a quartz-like quality to his eyes. Julie wondered what required time. Disembarking from the ferry? Gaining one’s sea legs? Island life?
Depot continued to pull, walking her instead of the reverse. Julie paused to unclasp the hated leash while passengers streamed around them on all sides. Depot remained in place, his demeanor of dignity returning, and Julie took a moment to shed her slicker, shaking off wetness before stuffing it into her duffel.
Straightening up, she searched for the person she had been told to expect. Someone to welcome her to the island, and show Julie her new digs.
The crush of people had cleared, and aside from a shrill of gulls, all was quiet. Back at the dock, the boat rocked up and down, nudging waterlogged padding tacked up to protect the flanks of the ferry. Thorn-sharp barnacles encrusted poles extending into the seabed. A pickling smell, salt and fermentation and rot, emanated from shaggy, kelp-draped rocks. A mouth of beach lay to the left, while the right climbed a steep pitch ending at a structure built of weathered boards. Directly in front of Julie, another trail led upward more gradually, losing itself in a cluster of short, stubby trees.
She looked down at Depot. “You smell,” she said aloud. It was the usual stink of wet dog with an overlay of seaweed.
Depot gave an electrified shake of his body, spraying Julie with droplets.
“I suppose I deserved that,” she remarked.
The dog settled into a squat at her feet, sugarcoating his haunches with sand that would require a bath, plus a stout brushing, to remove.
“That too,” she added. “I’m sorry, Deep. I just want to make a good impression.”
There was nobody around to impress, however.
Everyone was gone.
Chapter Thirteen
Every single person had disappeared from the dock, including the man who had helped Julie disembark. There were no more locals, and how they had all departed that quickly, their heavy burdens of shopping already unloaded, was a puzzle whose solution Julie couldn’t imagine. Even the tourists had vanished, no pause to get their bearings or snap a photo of the picturesque scene, as if they had been hurriedly squired away.
Julie hadn’t had anything to drink since the night before, and then not enough to have been feeling any effects at this point. Yet the situation had the bleary focus and fuzzy unreality that only scotch imparted.
She looked around, searching out a retreating back, listening for a scuff of footsteps or labored breath as someone disappeared over the hill.
The island had the feel of a place time had forgotten, or left behind. Standing on this slit of a path, barely wide enough for two bikes to ride side by side, Julie looked past the harbor and out to sea, taking in the same view she would’ve seen a hundred years ago. A thousand.
The scene posed an eerie echo of the loneliness she had felt on the boat.
Sun shone down, dappling the ground beneath the stunted trees up ahead. The silence and solitude were all-encompassing. It didn’t seem possible that the presence of a stranger, along with her very large dog, could go undetected this long.
Julie dug out her phone from a pocket on her suitcase. No signal, and although she was used to spotty cell coverage, it felt strange to see her phone as still and glassy as a pond. Not a single voicemail or alert. If nobody appeared—a notion that felt just this side of conceivable, given the quiet that had settled over the land—she would be stuck.
It wasn’t as if she could swim back across the sea, and there wasn’t anybody left who would come way out here to look for her. Julie felt a stab of self-pity that repulsed her. Poor me, poor me, pour me another. A phrase from one of the sobriety blogs she followed, both covetous and admiring of the blogger’s clear, purposeful life. Julie could have such a life herself now, but instead she was in what had to be one of the world’s most scenic spots, complaining about a little alone time. She clapped her hands together, summoning her dog and scattering the haunted-house feel.
Leaving her luggage at the foot of the path, she decided to head for the wooden building.
Depot made short work of the climb, although Julie’s calves ached with every step. New resolve notwithstanding, she felt parched and snappish and tired. She had been awake for so long today already, and assuming she ever reached what was supposed to be her new home, she still had to unpack a few things, find her toothbrush and something to sleep in, plus give Depot a meal.
Julie paused, rubbing her eyes before trudging upward again.
Depot stopped at the steps to the building and started sniffing the ground. Maybe this was a restaurant, remnants of food by its entry, although no sign advertised any such services. Still, Julie felt her hopes spark. It would be nice to find a place to sit down that didn’t pitch and fall.
“Ms. Weathers, hello there, wrong direction!”
The call came from behind, and Julie experienced a spike of relief. She hadn’t been all the way to scared, of course, but unsettled, yes, that she would admit to. The resurgence of grief and her last-minute doubts about this decision had combined to make the possibility of never seeing another human being again feel realer than it should have.
She turned to see Laura Hutchins standing at the base of the path.
* * *
Julie jogged down to meet her, a frown of confusion fighting the smile that arose upon seeing a familiar face. “But you don’t… I thought you didn’t live here anymore?”
“I don’t.” Laura waved a hand, gesturing Julie forward. “But my father and stepmother do, and they always reel me in for an end-of-summer bash. Plus I wanted to see you get settled!” She bent over. “Can I take one of these? We have a bit of a walk.”
Julie handed off the suitcase with relief, hoisting her duffel. “Come on, Deep.”
Laura walked off quickly, hooking a turn onto the sloping path. “You didn’t say what a beauty your dog is,” she called over her shoulder as they moved along.
The trail let out amidst a cluster of buildings, and Julie exhaled. Here were the missing signs of life. An inn on a manicured plot of land, bordered by a fence of painted white chain links that lent a sailor’s feel. And the tourists who had made the ferry crossing, rocking in chairs that adorned a front porch. Laura led the way past a grocery store—Perry’s—and a library housed in a building so small, every book in its collection could surely be read in a month. Then came a touristy gift shop, and a restaurant called Harbor House, from which a blend of smells emanated, salt and grease and frying meat.
Depot dug his claws into the ground, coming to a sudden halt.
“We’ll come back later for dinner,” Julie told the dog, taking hold of his collar and pulling him on.
Laura smiled, though she didn’t offer to stop. Perhaps she was in a rush. “Don’t worry, you’ll find the house well provisioned.”
They made their way out of town and toward a crossroads of cottages, each painted a different sea color: sky blue, two shades of green, and a pearly gray-white. They were charming, and Julie found herself wondering if one might be hers. But Laura hurried passed the grouping toward a tunnel of forest.
Depot had been lagging behind, sending yearning looks back at the restaurant whose odors had long since faded for Julie, but as they entered the woods, it was Julie who slowed. These woods were different from those she had grown up surrounded by. The soil was sandy and tree roots were exposed, spreading outward like gnarled bones. They made the soft earth humped and uneven, requiring vigilance at every step. Julie had meant to give Laura the easier burden by taking the duffel bag, but there was no stretch flat enough for the suitcase to make use of its wheels.
They walked on, Julie shifting the duffel from hand to hand, glad she’d had some of her thi
ngs shipped ahead. After another half mile or so, distance hard to assess in the forest, the trees began to space themselves out, and the ground showed hints of green scrub. Then the woods opened up, revealing a sudden swath of sky, a painterly splash of blue. To the right stood a three-story clapboard house. It had a lacy iron scroll of widow’s walk upon its roof and was perched at the rim of a cliff.
Laura’s pace finally flagged. “Well. How do you like it?”
Julie walked forward as if something were tugging her. “It’s beautiful.” It was windy this close to the ocean, her clothes flapping like flags, and she wasn’t sure if her voice would carry. It didn’t matter. What she’d said had been for her own benefit as much as Laura’s. Yes. I made the right decision. This is the place for me.
Julie climbed a broad set of porch steps, beckoning Depot forward. She turned the knob on the front door and found it unlocked. Pushing the door open—it creaked on thirsty hinges—she took a step inside. Depot settled down against the porch railing, big head between two posts as he looked out over the yard, his gaze twitching ceaselessly.
The entryway of the house opened onto a combined living and dining room backed by a wall of windows. Here the cliff dropped straight to sea level, sixty feet or more, while upstairs the views were no less spectacular. Three bedrooms and a bath, a bit of a slapdash paint job—Julie could detect color bleeding through the fresh coat of neutral beige—but nothing that couldn’t be remedied with rollers or a brush. Maybe the prior residents favored hard-to-cover shades.
Laura came up behind her, and Julie startled. She put one hand out on the wall to steady herself, as if the sea were still surging underfoot.
A smile sparked on Laura’s face, then vanished. “I brought your luggage up.”
“Thank you,” Julie told her. “For that, for showing me here—”
“Quick orientation,” Laura broke in, seeming in a rush again.
“Sure,” Julie said. “Or I don’t mind making my way around by myself.”
“I have my instructions.” Laura gave such a quick shake of her head that it resembled a shudder; Julie wasn’t sure what she was refuting. “Let’s see, until last year, the schoolteacher resided in one of the cottages outside of town. They did their best to move everything over, but if anything is missing, you have only to give a holler and it’ll be supplied.”
“That’s terrific. Thanks,” Julie said. “Why the change?”
“It’s a bit sad really,” Laura replied. “A lobsterman passed on last spring, a member of the island’s oldest clan. His wife couldn’t bear to live here without him.”
Julie offered a look of regret.
“Walter had great respect for teachers, so with his house standing empty, the family chose to honor him posthumously.” Laura spun around in the hall. “Anyway! You had some bigger items shipped, and they’ve also been left up here for you. The master bedroom is that first one.” Laura led the way back down to the first floor. “Laundry in the basement, keys in the drawer of the breakfront”—she pointed—“Wi-Fi password on the fridge—for when it works, that is. Outdoor lighting can be confusing, but there are floodlights here”—she walked toward a plate of switches—“and this controls the ones in back. Don’t forget to turn them on. It gets quite dark once the sun goes down.”
Laura pulled open the front door, and a sheet of wind made Julie shiver.
“And now I really must go,” Laura told her. “I hope you have a wonderful first night.” She flashed her hand in a wave and ran down the porch steps.
Julie called Depot inside, watching as Laura departed across the mix of scrub and sand that served for a yard. She was about to shut the door when she saw someone step out to meet Laura at the edge of the woods. Were they late to the party Laura had mentioned? Did that explain her hurry? Laura’s quickened steps and the furtive looks she snatched as she approached the woods didn’t exactly seem indicative of festivities, however.
The figure in the trees took on shape and definition as Julie walked out onto the porch. It was the regal woman from the video reel. Hair the color of the froth at the edge of the sea, combed into a severe knot, long legs clad in a pair of seemingly endless silk pants. Laura was looking at her with less idolization now, and more something like alarm. The woman grasped Laura by the wrist, and Laura allowed herself to be led.
The two walked off at a pace that seemed rapid, given the woman’s age and stately bearing, their feet churning up soil before the woods consumed them both.
Chapter Fourteen
Julie’s first need was to add a few touches of home. She unpacked the linens she’d had sent on ahead, and made the bed with her own quilt and sheets. No pictures of her and David, of course—not at their wedding, which had taken place at a wildflower farm, nor from the trip they’d taken to Belize, back when they’d both enjoyed brief spurts of travel, nor even a selfie snapped as exhausted new parents. But the last photograph ever taken of Hedley was something Julie couldn’t imagine ever living without.
She unzipped her suitcase. Tucked between layers of clothes was a pink china frame. Julie removed it with the care and sanctity reserved for rare jewels, an artifact of antiquity, or perhaps something holy, and set the photo on the bedside table. She pressed her fingers to her lips, then touched them to her daughter’s cheek, dimpled and forever flawless behind the pane of glass.
Next, Julie took her laptop out of the suitcase and carried it down to the first floor. The Wi-Fi worked fine—of course, it was a bright sunny day, the specter of a power outage hard to imagine—so she went online to post an update and a few photos on Instagram and Facebook, both of which she’d barely frequented over the last year and doubted she’d visit very often now. Still, she finally had something worth sharing.
a real live island! she captioned one pic. And: me without my sea legs
Then she opened a wordless email from Tim, subject line:
let me know you got there
Julie typed a quick reply, Depot whining and twining around her, rocking her back on her feet. “Okay, okay,” she told him. “But it’s nice to know the real world still exists, isn’t it?” Depot’s expression told her that he couldn’t have cared less, so Julie turned her attentions to the promised provisions.
She had tucked a few pouches of dog food into her duffel for emergencies, but as she began exploring the kitchen, she found a twenty-five-pound sack of nuggets beneath the sink, and six cans stacked in a cabinet. There were even dog bowls. Julie filled one with water, then served up a mixture of wet and dry in the other. Despite the unfamiliar brands, Depot gobbled two servings, before asking for thirds with his long tongue lolling.
“Okay,” Julie said. “But only because we skipped lunch.”
She scooped out the contents of a fresh can, watching as Depot downed the additional portion. Hunger assuaged, the dog walked over to the rear of the house, sprawled out beside the sun-warmed glass, and fell asleep.
Julie found the fridge no less generously fitted out. A pitcher of iced tea stood on one shelf, along with a platter of sandwiches. On the counter, a domed cake plate contained something temptingly sweet and multilayered.
The clamor of travel finally began to subside. Julie put a section of sandwich on a plate, then upon a moment’s reflection, added a chunk of cake. When was the last time she’d bothered with—allowed herself to have—dessert? She filled a glass with ice cubes, and was about to go for her suitcase, just a drizzle in her tea for a kick, when she realized she was okay for now. Without David there to conceal the accounting of their consumption, a pour seemed more…apparent. Uncle Vern’s voice lived in her head. Do what you need to. Just don’t do it with this. Maybe a nightcap before bed would suffice tonight.
Julie nudged open the front door with her foot and took her food outside. She polished off most of her meal, not quite as hungry as Depot, but appetite definitely stirring to life. Listening to the
distant lift and sigh of the sea, Julie leaned sleepily against a porch post. A rocking chair, she thought, as she began to doze. Perhaps a picnic table by the cliff in back of the house. With that pleasant prospect in mind, Julie drifted off.
* * *
A change in color woke her: the sun sinking in the sky.
Julie jumped up, brushing crumbs off her hands, then descended the porch steps and ran around the side of the house. She pulled up short, a few feet from the edge of the cliff, gaze fixed on the vista before her. It was as if she stood at the very edge of the world.
Everything had been painted orange and pink. A tremendous orb of sun trembled on the horizon, lighting both the sky and sea.
Julie rotated slowly, as if to make sure the house still stood there. For a moment, at least, it really felt as if it might have disappeared—as if everything might’ve. Then the rear wall came into sight, with Depot behind the glass, bathed in the citrus glow of the setting sun. Julie lifted one hand; silly, maybe, to signal her presence to a dog, but reassuring in some way nonetheless. Giving a little wave, Julie set off, walking along the rim of cliff while studying the sun’s path of descent.
The last line of color dipped below the horizon, and the evening turned gray, dispelling her earlier feeling of anticipation. As the sea sighed and salt air bit her nostrils, Julie grew cloyingly, oppressively homesick. The sense she’d had on the ferry, about making a mistake, came rushing back. All the reminders of Hedley lived in Wedeskyull, every place her baby had been in real life.
Julie missed the mountains, protective interruptions in the night sky. Here the firmament was so broad and empty, it seemed something might come down and pluck up a small creature walking around beneath. She shivered. Even the cold felt different here—a sodden, plastering chill that dampened your skin and weighed down your bones.
Stars began to come out, bits of glass in the darkening sky. Julie turned her back on the sea and started her return journey. The house seemed farther away than it should have, as if she’d traveled a long way without realizing it. Maybe it was the change in her mood: the trip out here swift and light, footsteps propelled by food and drink and a nap, while every step now dragged and it felt as if she would never reach her destination.
The Second Mother Page 7
