The woman shook her head. “It’s us, I’m sure. It was a bit of a thing, finding a new teacher. Let’s start over. I’m Ellie Newcomb, and I’ve been asked to give you a tour of the island.”
“How nice! And are you also the one who supplied this house so well—and made that incredible cake?” Julie extended her hand. “Julie Weathers,” she added.
Ellie gave Julie’s hand a surprisingly firm shake for someone of her size. She was built like a ballet dancer, or maybe a gymnast. “Can’t bake worth a damn, I’m afraid.”
Julie smiled. “Me either. In which case…would you like a piece?”
An image suddenly reared up, a shot of warning paired against the pleasure of meeting a potential friend. The empty bottle Julie had left on the counter.
Luckily, Ellie refused the offer. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover. Besides, I’ll treat you to lunch at Harbor House. Their pies will make that cake look so-so, I swear.”
“It smelled amazing when we walked past,” Julie remarked. Her day felt filled with a pale note of promise for the first time in over a year. “Let me just run up and change. Hey, you don’t mind if Depot comes with us, do you?”
Ellie had already turned to open the door. Hearing his name, Depot scrambled to exit first, making Ellie totter a bit and throw one hand out to keep from falling.
“Whoa,” she said, though she didn’t seem a bit bothered. “Take your time,” she called back to Julie. “I have a ball I can throw around while we wait.”
Chapter Seventeen
When Julie got outside, Depot was sitting quietly at the edge of the sand and scrub, Ellie on her feet beside him. She was so tiny that Depot’s head came to her waist.
She turned when she heard Julie approach. “I couldn’t find my ball,” she said, patting her pockets and making a sad face. “I think I disappointed him.”
Julie smiled. It’d been so long since she’d gone on any sort of social outing, let alone made a friend. She found herself asking her daughter for permission in her mind, as she had before her interview. I think you’d like her, Lilypad.
Ellie’s chatter trailed off, though she continued to regard Julie with an open, friendly expression.
Say something, Julie told herself. That’s what you do to make friends.
“Depot’s never been the biggest fan of fetch,” she told Ellie. “Besides, if yesterday was any indication, he’s about to go on a great walk.” She paused. “And this is a dog who’s taken some pretty epic walks.” She headed toward the line of trees, turning back when she lost sight of Ellie. “This way, right?”
Ellie ran to catch up. “Right.”
Julie and Ellie fell into step side by side, Depot running ahead, then turning back to them, paws scrabbling on the rough earth before he raced forward again.
“So what’s surprised you so far?” Ellie asked.
Julie glanced at her, and Ellie inclined her head.
“I read it in this make-deeper-connections thirty-day plan on a blog. Don’t just start a relationship with a generic question. Ask the person what surprised them, or tickled them, or even disturbed them.”
Julie hesitated. She didn’t want to let her new acquaintance know how weirded out she had gotten last night—By what? A crib? Somebody laughing?—but there was maybe one thing about which she could gain some insight. “People cleared off the ferry so fast. I looked around and nobody was there. Or even any of the cargo that came over on the boat.”
“Island folk don’t know how to talk to newcomers,” Ellie answered promptly, and honestly. “They probably had relatives waiting with handcarts at the dock for their stuff so no one would have to stick around and make small talk.” A pause. “Truth.”
Julie laughed. “Well, that’s one mystery cleared up,” she said, although it didn’t exactly explain the tourists’ scurry.
“Distrust of outsiders,” Ellie agreed. “Forget global politics. Tiny Mercy Island’s the seat.” She steered the two of them into the woods, holding back a flap of branches. “I guess Laura took you along this trail?” She gave a dramatic shiver. “I’ve always hated it.”
“Is there another way you can go?”
“You can come up by the cliff,” Ellie replied. “Although it’s a little steep, especially if you’re carrying things. It’s my preferred approach, though, so long as the weather’s fair. Maybe I’ll show you on our way back.”
The woods were as dusky and shadowed as they’d been the day before, the canopy overhead a mesh through which hardly any light filtered. Despite the tight wall of trees to either side, and braided fronds and ferns underfoot, Julie’s feet found the path unerringly; she didn’t have to watch Ellie for signs of how to go.
Julie had always been at home in a forest, able to read its crooks and notches like a map. And Depot was the same—she could hear him now, breaking through bramble, snapping twigs, as he stayed true to their course.
“Why do you hate this route?” Julie asked.
Ellie shouldered aside a branch, pausing to hold it back so Julie could pass.
Julie nodded her thanks.
“Trees don’t usually get this big or crowded on an island—the wind stunts them, the salt in the air prohibits growth. Something about the unique currents in the patch of sea around Mercy affect the weather. I guess I’m not used to the scale.”
“You haven’t always lived here then?”
Ellie shook her head. “I’m an island girl, born and bred, but my dad was a fisherman and we followed the catch. Nantucket for a while, then Monhegan, and Isle au Haut. We didn’t come to Mercy till I was a teenager.”
“Do your parents still live on the island?”
Ellie winced. “They both died actually. Only a couple of years apart.”
“I lost mine too,” Julie offered, and they traded sympathetic glances.
“We’re almost out,” Ellie said, picking up her pace. “Where is that dog of yours?”
It occurred to Julie that she hadn’t heard Depot in a while.
“Depot?” she called out. “Deep?”
“Great name, by the way,” Ellie said.
Julie jogged forward a few steps, calling out to her dog.
But the woods stayed still and silent. Windless, without so much as a bird flushed out of the brush, or a chipmunk scampering across the ground. The differences Julie felt between Mercy and Wedeskyull added up to one factor. There was less life on an island.
“Depot!” she shouted.
It was stupid to feel this flutter of fear in her belly. But the forest was indeed dense, and even though getting lost wasn’t an issue—with an ocean for perimeter—other dangers lurked that were unfamiliar to Depot. Such as falling into said ocean.
She turned to Ellie. “How close are we to the—” she began when Depot appeared, huge behind a bowed tree trunk. The dog sat on his haunches, still, not even panting.
Julie clapped a hand to her chest. “Depot! My God, Deep, you scared me.”
The dog didn’t move.
The trees were starting to thin out, the one that failed to conceal Depot as small and hunched as a crone. Julie closed the distance between herself and the dog.
“He okay?” Ellie called.
She didn’t walk into the section of trees Julie and Depot now occupied.
“Fine, I think,” Julie said, separating tufts of fur on the dog’s coat, looking into his eyes. “I don’t see anything wrong.”
“Must’ve been exploring,” Ellie offered. “Come on, we’re almost to town.”
* * *
There was a pleasant buzz in town. Tourists—couples walking hand in hand, parents corralling small children—packed the sandy one-lane road, prompting Julie to keep Depot close, walking single file behind Ellie so as to stay out of people’s way.
Signs beckoned shoppers into a small handful of s
tores, their awnings fluttering in the ocean breeze. Seagulls squawked, diving for food that fell from careless hands; and from the dock came the thrum of lobster boats motoring out to sea, the flat thwack of traps hitting the water far from shore.
Ellie gave Julie a tour of the inn, then suggested checking out the wares at the general store before visiting a gift shop, all the while making introductions to the people they encountered. Despite Ellie’s statements about the natives’ standoffishness, most of them trilled happy hellos and even asked a question or two about Julie’s arrival—the quality of the ferry crossing apparently roughly equivalent to a discussion in Wedeskyull about how much snow was expected.
The jovial, pleasant mood persisted right up until Ellie brought her to a tiny store that sold sea-themed antiques. The door opened to a tinkle of bells, and the two of them came face-to-face with a customer, an older man with a deceptively thick head of hair and a dignified carriage to his bearing. He was picking up ancient bronze bells from a display case, but when he saw Julie, his face broke into a smile as if he already knew her.
Julie smiled back.
Ellie spun Julie around, closing the door behind them and leading her across the road.
“Who was that?” Julie asked. “You left awfully fast.”
Ellie shrugged it off. “He’s just not the nicest resident you could meet.”
“Really?” Julie replied. “He seemed friendly.”
Ellie shrugged again, offering a smile.
“Is he local? I would’ve thought he was a tourist in a store like that.”
Something took hold of Ellie’s features, a certain tremble in her mouth, before she recaptured her smile. “He’s the localist of locals. And I don’t mean to act all weird—the alpha sea captains just don’t do it for me. Even when they’re old and sick and losing it.”
She was clearly going for humor, trying to play things off, but she was upset.
“You know what?” Julie said.
Ellie darted a quick look at her.
“I’m starving.”
* * *
A hostess led Ellie and Julie to the last unoccupied table looking over the sea. Julie ordered a burger to bring out to Depot, who lay beside the water bowl provided by the restaurant. Depot had already emptied it; he was parched and tired after whatever adventure had made him run off alone in the woods. Julie stooped to pat the dog, then reentered Harbor House, weaving between customers to the sunroom where she and Ellie had been seated.
“Prime spot,” Julie remarked, dropping into her chair.
“Of course,” Ellie said. “You’re our guest.”
Julie inclined her head. “What I want is to be the schoolteacher.”
“You come from a small town. You must know it can take some doing before you really belong.”
Julie opened the menu. “Let’s hope my town isn’t an accurate measure. Or else I’ll fit in here sometime after my students’ great-grandchildren have graduated.”
Ellie laughed, though Julie noted she offered no contradiction.
“So what do you really think of the island so far?” Ellie asked. “Other than the xenophobic brigade off the ferry?”
Julie smiled briefly, then switched her gaze to the view. She stared out at sparkling water, bobbing buoys, chugging boats, men leaning overboard with ropes and poles. The sea looked as busy and bustling as a construction site.
“It’s lovely,” she pronounced.
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Obvs. Anything else…?”
Julie hesitated. It had been so long since she’d had real companionship, someone who wanted to know what she thought and felt, instead of just skating over the pleasantries. David and her remaining close friends or family members—Tim, Vern, her aunt—were just glad these days if Julie wasn’t falling apart. But Ellie didn’t know Julie’s past and the result was liberating, even if it also felt like a betrayal of Hedley.
“To tell you the truth, I do find myself surprised by things. Per that deeper connections blog you mentioned.”
Ellie raised interested brows.
“Laura Hutchins described this place as pretty lonely. So far out to sea, cut off from the rest of the world. But I feel like it’s practically hopping. There’s so much life and laughter and light here.” Although that laughter could sound sort of creepy up on a ladder in the dark.
Ellie seemed to register her unspoken afterthought. “Right. You’ll see.”
“That sounds pretty dire.” Julie leaned closer. “What will I see?”
Ellie leaned in as well. “Look, Mercy’s a wonderful place; I’ve chosen to make it my home. But the school board chose your arrival date for a reason. Of course you need time to get settled, but there’s also something else.”
It was Julie’s turn to look questioning.
Ellie splayed her hands out on the table. “This is the climax of the tourist season, summer’s last and biggest hurrah. You’re seeing the place with its best clothes on, all the services set up to cater to the summer people. Everyone’s on tip-top behavior—visitors in vacay mode, locals preening for them. But give it another few days and…” She stopped and glanced around.
Julie felt a prickle on her skin; someone had turned on the air-conditioning.
When Ellie looked back, her colorless eyes were fairly crackling, lightning upon orbs of cloud. “Give it another few days and this island will undergo a transformation so great, you’ll think you landed on the moon.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Wow,” Julie said weakly. “Okay. I stand prepared.”
Ellie opened her mouth, as if about to add something—whether in the form of emphasis or retreat, it wasn’t clear—but then the waitress appeared. She was clad in an eyelet-trimmed uniform, her name embroidered below the collar of her blouse. Everything about the restaurant screamed midcentury not-so-modern; it was far less a la mode than the Adirondacks with their influx of hipster growers and recreationists. Perhaps people came to Mercy precisely for the feel of bygone days.
Ellie kept her gaze fixed on Julie, the emotion in her eyes waning. “I’d say we deserve a glass of wine. Red or white?”
Julie looked down quickly, pretending to be absorbed by the menu. “Oh, none for me, thanks, but you definitely go ahead.”
“Not a drinker?” Ellie asked. “Or just not in the mood?”
She was sharp. Julie suspected that if she and Ellie continued to hang out, she would become the kind of friend who didn’t let you get away with much. For now, though, they were still relative strangers, and Julie could brush over things. She shrugged. “I don’t drink much.” Not as of last night.
“I’ll have whatever pinot you’ve got open,” Ellie told the waitress. “With the lobster salad.”
“Iced tea for me,” Julie said. “And the same thing.”
They discussed the lighter details of island life as they ate: how to get the owner of Perry’s to open up late if you ran out of something, the typical frequency of Amazon shipments, and number of times a week you could eat lobster without getting sick of it.
Only when Julie asked Ellie what people their age did for fun, did Ellie display a blade of discomfort. “Well, let’s see, the guys keep to themselves; fishermen always do. And the women are nice enough, but if you don’t have kids and a fisherman husband, it can be hard to find common ground, you know?”
Switch a couple of the fine points, and it sounded a lot like home.
Once they’d finished eating, Julie went outside to retrieve Depot, then Ellie showed the way to the little library, where there was Wi-Fi and phones winked to life even outdoors.
Julie checked hers, before following Ellie through a gate and down a seashell path that turned out to lead to the schoolhouse. The small building sat in a cove, its back to an overhang of black rock face rendered glossy by seeping water. The stone structure appeared to be
built out of the cliff itself, although as Julie drew near, she saw the school was in fact freestanding, just with very little space between it and the headland behind. The salt-brined odor of the sea filled Julie’s nose as they picked their way across hummocks of seaweed-draped rocks, giving way to a half-moon of shore.
“What an incredible spot,” she said.
Ellie nodded. “Past teachers have created some pretty mean marine-biology lessons here.”
“I bet,” Julie said. She still had curriculum planning to do herself, but right now the only thing she could focus on was having come to teach in the most beautiful place in the world.
Ellie approached a hobbit-like door in the side of the stone structure. “The kids enter through the barn doors at the front of the building, but we’ll use this one today.”
The door was arched and shrunken. Ellie could walk through at full height, but Julie had to stoop. The interior was chilly, stone walls keeping what heat there was outside from penetrating. Julie wondered what this building would feel like come winter, when the sea winds blew. As if reading her thoughts, Ellie pointed to an immense woodstove occupying a central position. “There are electric radiators for backup, but that baby will keep you plenty comfy.”
“I’m familiar,” Julie said. “Where I come from, wood is free, and fuel costly.”
Depot trotted over and lay down in front of the stove.
Julie took a look around the large space: wood-floored, with a blackboard covering one wall, rows of desks with chairs attached, and a run of empty, unused space behind the teacher’s desk. Midcentury not-so-modern again. Even in Wedeskyull, most classrooms used SMART Boards, with slate and chalk only for when the tech got glitchy.
A computer monitor sat on what was to be her desk, with an actual CPU underneath. There were no devices on the student desks, which Julie had expected, although the holes for inkwells did provoke a momentary blink. These pieces of furniture were literal antiques.
Ellie echoed her thoughts. “No Wi-Fi; the school board didn’t want the kids who have phones to be on them all day. That old beast you’ve got to use is connected to an actual cable.”
The Second Mother Page 9
