Unless she had misread Peter’s expression. Perhaps he was just excited by his proposal, the chance to perform a gender-bending role. Or maybe he was nonbinary, an identity still not accepted on this tiny hump of land, surprising levels of tolerance notwithstanding, and the play would offer him temporary liberation.
Julie had to set these questions aside, at least for now.
She had a date to get ready for.
Before leaving school, Julie researched lawyers, then stopped at the library to text David the name of the first one who had an actual human being answering the phone. Julie felt an inordinate sense of relief upon hitting Send on her text. As if she’d taken a step to setting her life on the course it should’ve followed years ago.
Except then there would’ve been no Hedley.
And despite having suffered the nearly insurmountable pain of losing her daughter, Julie didn’t regret a single minute that the little girl had lived.
The grocery store was next, dusty even compared to the place Julie went to in Wedeskyull when she lacked the time to make the trip to the chains on the Northway, or the funds to visit one of the organic food markets that had sprung up in town.
Canned vegetables seemed too déclassé for a first date, but the produce bins offered only tattered lettuce and some sad-looking, wrinkly peppers, everything having been plundered for Labor Day bashes. So Julie opened the freezer case to a vaporous blast and grabbed a sack of peas, then paused at the butcher counter, waiting behind two customers. At the cash register, she was gratified to find tea breads made locally, and went back for the one pint of ice cream not covered in stalagmites of freezer burn.
Julie retraced her steps to the school to give Gully a last helping of mash and get Depot. She set one grocery bag on the dog’s back, holding it steady with her hand as she hefted the other sack in the crook of her arm. She and the dog made their way home along the road through town, then into the woods and across the scruffy stretch of land leading up to the house. Julie unlocked the front door and walked into the kitchen to get ready.
* * *
Callum had clearly cleaned up after his day on the boat. Instead of waterproof gear and boots, he wore laced shoes with a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. His hair glistened with the effects of a recent shower. He smelled of menthol, soap, and the sea.
He held out a platter of just-cooked lobster, snowy white wedges of meat, covered with plastic wrap. “I was raised never to show up empty-handed.”
Julie started to smile, reaching for the platter.
“Not for tonight—I rarely eat the stuff myself. But I thought you could make a roll for your lunch tomorrow.” He paused, looking at her. “I hope this is right.”
He hadn’t said all right; Julie had the feeling he was speaking on a different level. Ellie had brought wine, but Callum hadn’t. He seemed to see more about her than anybody else had in years, possibly ever. Then an image of the vodka Julie had taken from his friend’s cabin appeared in her mind, and humiliation formed a ripple inside her. No need for clairvoyance—just the discovery of her theft.
“It’s great,” she said, her voice sounding stilted.
Depot provided welcome distraction, barking a greeting while Callum stooped to rub his ruff. “How did your dog get his name?”
Depot scrabbled at the floor with his paws, and they both smiled.
“Knows he’s being talked about,” Callum said.
“Yeah, he’s super smart,” Julie agreed. “We named him for the place we found him—he’d been abandoned at a Home Depot. In the garden center, where he was bounding around, completely frantic, toppling over these enormous planters with his tail. He was just a puppy, and he’d suffered in ways I can’t bear to think about. He showed signs of trauma for months after we brought him home.”
Callum looked troubled.
“I know,” Julie said. “But he’s all right now. He’s been great ever since.”
Callum glanced at her. “Who’s we?”
For the second time in not many more minutes, Julie was at a loss for what to say.
“I mean—” Callum broke off, scrubbing a fist across his face. “My mistake. You moved here alone. I just assumed you were single.”
“I should’ve mentioned it,” Julie said, dismayed. “But I almost am. Single. I officially began divorce proceedings today. And emotionally we’ve been apart a lot longer.”
Callum’s hand was still covering the lower portion of his face, while color rose on the rest of it. “I wonder how many times I can overstep with you? Tell me it’s none of my business.”
Julie didn’t actually mind the wrongs, social and otherwise, being on his side for a while. “Anything’s your business if you bring me lobster.”
“What if you knew I had another eight hundred bugs in my tank right now?”
“Then I’d tell you to overstep again.”
Back to innuendo. For a moment, Callum’s gaze caught hers, and he lowered his hand from his face. They were standing not quite as close as they’d been in the schoolhouse, but still near enough that a single surge forward on either of their parts would’ve brought them together. Julie suddenly wanted to do it. Forget the technicality of her marriage, or a sobriety so nascent she didn’t need AA to tell her any new relationship would be mistimed, or even her ongoing state of mourning.
Julie admitted to herself what she hadn’t yet put into words—that she’d been drawn to this man from the moment he’d helped her on the ferry, that it’d been she who touched his lips with her own the first time they had formally met, and she wanted more than that now.
Then Depot bounded between them, headed for his bowl, and Callum’s stomach rumbled as if in echo of the dog’s hunger, and both he and Julie burst out laughing.
Julie led the way to the dining room table.
“Thank the Lord,” Callum said. “I thought you might be one of those who goes in for little bites before a meal.”
Julie served roast chicken, potatoes, gravy, and peas. “Ellie’s my go-to obviously, and she recommended comfort food after a day at sea, something hearty.”
Callum looked down at the table with a faint frown. “It looks great.”
Maybe she had chosen wrong. “I was torn between this and red meat, but the grocery store decided me.” Julie began to carve, passing Callum a plate.
“Wares a bit slim today?” he asked, bringing a fork to his mouth.
“Well, only by spoiled, foodie, first-world standards,” Julie replied.
Callum grinned. “Is there any other standard?” he asked, before polishing off his serving without another word. His manners were nice—the man even looked sexy while eating—but Julie needn’t have worried about making conversation. Callum remarked on the quality of her cooking as he requested seconds, seeming especially to enjoy the crisped chicken skin, which he ate along with helpings of everything else.
Julie had finished her smaller portion first, and she watched as he finally scraped up a last bit of sauce with a forkful of mashed potatoes.
He became aware of her attention, and they both spoke at once.
“That was some—” Callum began.
“Sorry, I just haven’t—” Julie said.
He indicated that she should go.
“—seen a man eat like that since my father. He was a logger,” Julie added, sensing a connection for the first time between home and the place she’d come to.
Callum confirmed it. “We just do our work at sea instead of in trees.”
Julie brought in coffee and dessert, which Callum set to avidly. Then they both settled back in their chairs, staring out at the open expanse of room. The sun sat steadily in its spot in the sky behind the wall of windows. There were hours of evening left.
Callum tilted the coffeepot over Julie’s cup, giving her the last,
and somehow the gentleness, the considerateness of his action caused Julie to speak. The man summoned truth from her like a snake handler. “I have no idea what to do right now if I don’t pour drinks.”
He stared down at the table, and Julie regretted her impromptu revelation. “It seemed like you kind of figured it out,” she said awkwardly. “The lobster instead of wine and…”
She didn’t want to bring up the vodka she’d stolen, although she did feel an odd urge to confess to Callum, be open and honest in a way she hadn’t in a while. She pushed her chair back, standing and walking over to the wall of glass, where she watched the sea sway far below.
Callum got up and came and stood beside her. “My mam taught me never to bring a bottle as a gift,” he said at last. His eyes had gone granite hard and gray, a reflection of the sea. “To the extent that my dad was sober, she kept him that way.”
“People everywhere,” Julie said quietly.
“You were right about that,” Callum replied. Then he said, “Can I overstep again?”
Julie nodded, gesturing him on.
“Is Ellie the right friend for you to be having?”
“Ellie? She’s the best friend I’ve made in a long time.”
“Her love of the grape is what I mean,” Callum said carefully.
“Oh,” Julie said. Did this explain his demeanor when Julie had described Ellie’s role in menu planning? “Actually, being around Ellie makes me realize I don’t want to be dependent on anything to that degree anymore. Now it’s just a question of sticking to it.”
Callum gave a slow nod.
“Can I overstep?” Julie asked.
“Seems only fair.”
“We both mentioned our parents, but only my soon-to-be ex came up,” Julie said. “Have you ever been married?”
Callum shook his head. “The closest I ever came, and it probably wasn’t really that close, was a woman in Duck Harbor. We were together for three years.”
He’s always been the distant type, Ellie had said. “What happened?” Julie asked, picturing commitment issues, this wasn’t a man she should get long-term ideas about—and why should that upset her, the mere thought like a jab, when they’d only just met?
“Her father fished for a rival gang,” Callum said.
Julie nearly laughed aloud. The idea that an industry revolving around crustaceans could split a couple apart was so alien—although perhaps it shouldn’t have been, given the ski slope wars and farm-stand battles she’d witnessed back home—and also so welcome compared to the deep-seated relationship phobia she’d just been envisioning. “Was he a dub? Your girlfriend’s dad?”
“Where’d you come by that archaism?” Callum asked, amused.
Julie glanced at him. “Ellie, of course. She did say it wasn’t PC.”
Callum frowned at that, lines boring into his face. “He taught me a lot, my girlfriend’s father. He just preferred to consolidate income between the generations, rather than divide it. And his daughter deferred to him, which is how these things tend to go.”
“This business doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me,” Julie said.
“Takes a lifetime to learn it,” Callum replied.
“Yes, but I don’t have that long,” Julie said. “It’s the kids’ whole world, and I have to teach them, but it feels like I’m driving blind. I tried to reach out to a mom yesterday, but parents never give you the full story. Especially about their own children.”
Callum rubbed his chin with one hand. “You know who you should talk to?”
Julie studied his reflection in the glass. She shook her head in question.
“Paul Scherer.”
“The constable?”
“Constable, superintendent, general contractor, and all-around good guy. He led the scout troop when we had enough kids for one.”
Julie tried to imagine such a time on Mercy. Additional rows of desks in the schoolhouse, children close enough in age to share group activities, sessions that wouldn’t be gutted if a few had to leave to go work on their dads’ boats. A rousing chorus of youthful voices, bright new faces, promises for the future.
“Fielded a damn good football team back in the day. Soccer, I mean.” Callum gave a nod, as if a decision had been reached. “No one knows the children of this island better.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Julie awoke early enough the next morning to stop at the town office on her way to school. It wouldn’t be open yet, but Julie figured she could check Scherer’s office hours. When she got there at 7:00 a.m., however, a secretary already occupied the space behind a counter and explained that while Scherer wasn’t at his desk, he was locatable, putting some hours in on a handyman job before the official workday started.
The secretary told Julie how to find the house, and summoning Depot from the spot where she’d left him, Julie set out walking again. She found Scherer at the top of a ladder propped against the wall of a cottage, pounding shingles in.
“Mr. Scherer, hi!” Julie called.
He twisted around to spot her on the ground, then climbed down. “Ms. Weathers,” he greeted her. “Call me Paul. Please.”
Julie nodded. “And I’m Julie. This is Depot.”
Scherer barely glanced at the dog. “He’s as big as they say.”
Depot trotted off to a stand of trees, offended.
Scherer stuck a hammer into a tool belt slung around his waist. “What can I do for you on such a beautiful morning?”
“I’m sorry to show up uninvited. I know you’ve got work to do.”
Scherer waved her off. “That’s always the case. I wear a lot of hats.” He looked behind him at the cottage. “This place took a licking with the last renters. Flooded the bathroom so bad, it got into the walls.”
“Summer properties are the worst,” Julie said.
Scherer offered a pleasant smile. “You said it. Now tell me what I can do for you.”
Julie smiled back. “I was hoping you could give me some background about the school. Dynamics between the children, I mean. I’m worried about two in particular.”
Scherer squared his hands on his belt. “And who might those be?”
“Well, Peter Meyers,” Julie said, watching Scherer’s face for a reaction. “And also Eddie Cowry. There are a couple of other older kids who can act pretty mean, but I have a feeling they’ll follow Peter’s example if I can help with his behavior.”
Scherer nodded. “The Cowry boy I’m with you on, Peter not so much. He’s about the best cared for child I’ve ever known. Fretted over sometimes, but always out of love. Not many people have their futures secured like Peter. What’s given you cause to worry?”
“Nothing definite,” Julie admitted. “He misses his old house, that seems clear. And he tried to hurt a bird, possibly my dog too. Actually, the bird was already hurt, but Peter acted aggressively when he found it.”
Scherer hesitated. “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, Julie, but all that sounds pretty normal to me for a boy who recently lost his father. Mightn’t that make him harbor some anger? Feelings of longing to be back where his dad used to be?”
“Of course,” Julie murmured. She felt almost silly now; then she remembered the other part of what Scherer had said. “But Eddie? Him you have had concerns about?”
Scherer spoke faster now; she’d probably taken too much of his time. “Absenteeism, truancy mostly. But there’ve been whispers, always are on an island. I haven’t actually seen bruises on the boy, but let’s just say I’ve had reason to look.”
“Does Eddie live with both parents?”
Scherer shook his head. “No mom in the picture. It’s just Eddie and his dad.”
If his dad were rough with him, that could explain Eddie’s tendency to accept abuse at the hands of his peers. “Thanks for taking the time, Mr. Scherer. Paul, I
mean. I can’t tell you how helpful it’s been.” Julie took a look around for Depot.
“Reassuring, I hope. You have a good bunch of apples in that crop. Peter’s the apple of a lot of our eyes.” He let out a laugh at his word play, although his eyes didn’t appear mirthful. “Focus on the Cowry boy. He’s vulnerable, I’d say. Wouldn’t want something to happen to him on our new teacher’s watch.”
Julie frowned. Scherer wasn’t vocalizing anything she hadn’t worried about herself, and yet there was something not quite aboveboard in his injunction. Or was Julie misreading that sheen of manipulation? She’d been given another chance at saving a child; the only problem was she didn’t know which one needed saving.
* * *
By the time Julie and Depot got to town, the weather had changed with a speed even Wedeskyull would’ve envied, sun diminished to a bead of mercury in the sky. As they reached the cove, the skies opened up, rain drilling the schoolhouse and driving spikes through the sea. Clapping her bag on top of her head for protection, Julie yanked open the side entrance and ducked inside, pulling the dog in after her. He shook his huge body, spraying droplets as far as the stove.
“Okay, okay,” Julie told him. “Don’t make a big deal about some rain.”
Julie used her jacket to blot damp off her clothes, then paused in the midst of her ministrations. Something felt different about the classroom.
She looked down at Depot, but he didn’t appear perturbed.
Her desk appeared as she’d left it: monitor dark, an uneven jumble of sharpened pencils, corrected homework waiting to be handed out. The student desks sat empty, their surfaces dusted with eraser crumbs and pencil shavings. The stove stood like a fat-bellied old man, cold and gray and devoid of ashes; today might be the right weather to light it for the first time. The barn doors had been snugly shut; books lined the shelves; kindergarten toys filled baskets.
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