Savior (First to Fight Book 4)

by Nicole Blanchard

  “You’re going to love it,” she says.

  I’m not quite so optimistic, but I force myself to be cheerful. “So you’ve said. Repeatedly.”

  “I wish you could have seen it in summer, but the country air will do you some good.”

  “I think I remember saying something similar about you before I made you take the ferry from hell.”

  Chloe just scoffs. “Best and worst time of my life. At least I got Gabe out of the nightmare.”

  She ended up marrying her rescuer afterwards. Now the two of them and his little girl live together in Jacksonville. I make a mental note to go visit them the next time I can now that we’re so close.

  “You never know, maybe you’ll meet a guy there,” she says.

  I roll my eyes at the seat in front of me. “Not a chance.”

  I don’t have any plans to date, but maybe I can finally relax, finish school, and make friends again. Find some way to put together the tatters of my old life. It may not be perfect, but it will be mine. And it is time I take my life back. It is time I have any life at all. Eventually I know I will have to face my family and my faults, but before I do that, I know I have to come to terms. Perhaps Nassau is just what I need to lay those demons to rest.

  The thought is comforting as the bus pulls into the depot across the street from a gently lapping lake in a pewter blue. Even if I can’t make this paradise my temporary home, I can at least enjoy the brief respite from traveling. What could be better for that than some Florida sunshine? That’s one thing I missed from living in Miami. The constant sun. So much of the past few years had been spent in gray, dreary places.

  Sucking the marrow from life was one seed that had been borne from tragedy and grief. I promise myself every day that I will take joy from anything and everything that I can. Life is, as they say, way too short not to enjoy every moment of it.

  “I’m getting off the bus now,” I tell Chloe. “I’m going to try and find a place tonight and get settled. I’ll call you as soon as I can and we’ll make a date.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that!” Chloe says. “Miss your face.”

  “Miss you, too. Thanks again, for recommending me to your friend about the job and everything. If I haven’t already said it enough.”

  “No need to keep saying it. That’s what friends are for. Don’t forget to call me!”

  “I will. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Later,” she says.

  I tuck my phone into my pocket and grab my bags down from the empty seat next to me—two well-worn duffels I'd gotten from a second hand store. They held the outfits I'd grabbed in a hurry. Four pairs of jeans, two pairs of shorts, one pair of capris. Three T-shirts, two tank tops, two long sleeves. None too dressy, nothing like I used to wear. All serviceable and in semi-good repair.

  The verdant air wafts through the bus the moment the doors open. I have to steel myself against the scent of pine as it throws me back into the memories of that night. After a few breaths, I manage to calm myself and try to enjoy the warm air. It lifts my long blonde hair and whips it around my face and shoulders. I’d grown it out in the years since I left Miami, allowing my shoulder-length hair to grow down past my waist. Not to mention I wore it like a shield. I’ll never forget the feeling of his voice as it curled around my neck, the scruff of his beard on my bare nape. The mere thought of it makes me shiver and glance around the occupants who dawdle as they disembark, oblivious to my sudden bout of paranoia.

  No. He’s not here. He’ll never hurt me again. The only thing I have to be afraid of is my own memories. And that’s plenty to keep me zigzagging around the country.

  I give one last once over of the other people on the bus, but there is sign of a tall, dark haired man with large, scarred hands. And there won’t be, I remind myself. As many times as I explain it to myself, I still look around every corner. After all this time, I still don’t think the nightmare has ended. My heart begins to race, regardless of how many times I tell myself to be calm and cool. I take deep breaths. In four seconds, hold, out four seconds, and hold. I repeat it until my heart rate goes back to normal.

  By that time, the other passengers have cleared the bus. Feeling foolish, I lift my bags to my shoulder and follow the last of them off the bus and into the depot.

  The sun beats down on my shoulders as I walk along the main street that goes around McCormick Lake toward the bundle of businesses. I make a mental note to invest in some sort of sunhat or my pale skin will be burned to oblivion in no time.

  Nassau couldn’t have been more different from the places I have called home for the past year. There are crowds here, but they are nothing compared to the mobs of New York and Chicago. The tourist attractions and the lakefront center most of the activity along the water. From the trip in, I know that going two or three miles beyond the city limits will dramatically decrease the amount of civilization, and any farther than that is nothing but fields and farm land. A good place to get lost in.

  I reach the cluster of buildings and follow the footpaths down the charming main street lining the lake. Cute little bungalows dot the road across from it and are interspersed with towering cypress and pine. Each house is a different color, and I wonder if this place is seriously a wonderland. I smile at the thought as I walk between two buildings, and turn onto a boardwalk of sorts, which is lined on one side with restaurants and gift shops where delicious scents coat the air and bright bits and bobs on displays. Any one of the shops will need help as summer melts into fall, and the thought of working right on the lake is appealing.

  I keep walking until the boardwalk ends and the dock begins. The dock sports dedicated fisherman who are intent upon their lines and lures, their catch filling coolers that line the walk. Teenagers in cutoffs and T-shirts walk hand in hand. Younger kids attempt to throw their own lines over the lip of the pier, and their screams of elation or disappointment ring all around.

  I reach the end of the walk, which stretches far out into the diamond-studded lake, and rest against the wooden railing with my duffle bags at my feet. In the distance, a group of brave teens race and splash, spitting water into the sky. The buzz of sea planes flying overhead competes with the crash and hiss of gently rocking below me. Back on the manufactured beach, herds of people shift along the sand with colorful umbrellas and blankets hoping to leech the remnants of summer before it gets too cool.

  One day, I want to be like them—surrounded by the love and compassion of good friends. People who care to know what I’m doing and where I’m going. For so long, I’d squandered the attention of friends and family that only wanted the best for me. Hopefully, if I got the opportunity again, I wouldn’t let the same thing happen. You never knew what was most important until it—against all reason—was taken from you.

  In the distance, towers of glass and chrome jut into the turquoise sky. Fancy hotels inhabited by even fancier people. If Chloe’s connection at the bed and breakfast doesn’t pan out, I can probably find employment at one of the hotels.

  I make my way back down the dock when my eye catches on a bright white building at the far end of the main line of businesses. It’s situated so it has a direct view of the lake, is flanked by rows of beautiful flowering bushes, and has a sign just to the right of the walkway that reads: Nassau Bed and Breakfast. Drawn by the beautiful picture it paints, I sift my way through the throngs of people on the boardwalk until I’m standing in front of it. Even if Chloe hadn’t put out feelers, I would have immediately been drawn to it’s classic lines and charming decorations. There’s love there, it almost emanates from the place.

  Heavy pieces of furniture crafted from driftwood on the expansive wrap-around front porch. The front door is open, so I take the opportunity to duck in for a peek before I find the owner for introductions. The foyer is empty of guests and surprisingly quiet for what I’d expected of midday. The only sound is the soft ticking of the grandfather clock situated at the base of the stairs in front of me and the waves crashin
g in the distance.

  I crack open a set of double doors to my right just enough to see the library on the other side. A rainbow of spines decorate floor to ceiling shelves. A grouping of comfortable-looking chairs is placed in front of a delicately crafted stone fireplace. The windows are open to a garden of colorful flowers. To the opposite side is a closed door, where I assume the dining room must be located.

  On my left is a little gift shop with more driftwood lining the walls as shelves for knick knacks, books, and a variety of tongue-in-cheek shirts. I turn in a slow circle, taking it all in. The space needs no music or scent because the lapping water and fresh air fills the space. It’s peaceful and quaint. Finally, my eyes land on a large hunk of wood with elaborate, delicate branches that serves to hold the checkout counter and register.

  A colorful chalkboard on the wall behind it details an enticing lunch menu. They must serve the occasional foot traffic as well as those with reservations. Still seeing no one and feeling curious, I walk slowly through the gift shop and out a pair of French doors. They lead out onto a spectacular veranda with the most beautiful lake views I’ve ever seen, which includes the two weeks I’d spent getting wasted on the shores of Mexico with Paige our freshman year in college.

  The memory spears a fresh wave of pain, so I turn from the view and nearly run into a woman with a short cap of white hair. She joins me, leaning her arms against the deck. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Awestruck, I can do no more than offer her a baffled smile. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “That’s what we like to hear.” She straightens and turns to me. “I’m Rose. Were you looking to book a room or order something for lunch? Our fresh fish is to die for.”

  “Actually, I would kill for some caffeine. You wouldn’t happen to make coffee here would you?”

  “You’re in luck. We have the best cappuccinos in the state. Mostly because you can sit out here on the deck while you drink it.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  I followed the woman back through the gift shop and hall to an open room with a grand staircase and dining room on the far side. I conclude based on the lake views there as well that the back of the house must jut out toward the water, offering a million-dollar panoramic view. The dining room opens up into a spacious kitchen that is bright and airy, all light wood and soft cream accents. There is a central island with a sink and stainless steel stovetop, two commercial-grade ovens, and above them are two identical stainless steel microwaves. Fresh green arrangements sit on the counters. It is like something from a design magazine.

  As I step into the kitchen, I hear a curse coming from another side entrance that is followed by a lot of feminine grumbling.

  My guide’s mouth pulls into a frown. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  “Of course.”

  She hurries from the room, her heels clicking against the tile floors. Curiosity piqued, I follow, though only to the stools situated at the bar, which is plenty close enough to hear the conversation going on down the hall.

  “What in the devil is going on in here, Diane?”

  I jump when three bangs sound in rapid succession from the hall. “Mrs. Cleary has decided she doesn’t want the Lily Suite after all. Too sunny.”

  “Did you mention she specifically booked the Lily Suite because it gets a lot of sunlight?”

  The woman sighs in response. “Of course I did, Mom, but that woman doesn’t listen to reason.”

  “Well we have customers in the other room. You can’t be throwing things about in here, now. We’ll take a look at the other rooms and see what we can do.”

  “Of course. You’re right, but sometimes a body just needs to let off a little steam.”

  I hear Rose laugh. “Next time you need to blow off a little steam, why don’t you just take a dip in the lake. It’s right cold enough to cool that temper of yours.”

  “I may take you up on that offer,” Diane says. “If I don’t, I may drown that damn woman.”

  “Language, Diane. We have a guest in the kitchen.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

  “What do you think I’m doing here?”

  The sound of shuffling feet jerks me from my eavesdropping, and I snatch up a menu from the counter and pretend to study it. It offers a variety of light meals that I’d find in a gourmet café. Soups and sandwiches. A selection of coffees and fresh salads, plus the aforementioned fish, probably freshly caught.

  I glance up as they enter the kitchen and have to blink twice at the sight. The women could have been identical were it not for the marked age difference. They both have the same heavily lidded tawny eyes and smooth cocoa-and-cream skin. The same slashing cheekbones and Cupid’s bow lips. The younger woman, presumably Diane, has a thick mane of hair so brown it is almost black and looks to be in her forties. She is easily one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.

  She offers me a warm smile as she crosses the kitchen to the sink where she grabs a dishrag to run under the cold water in the sink. “Welcome to Nassau Bed and Breakfast. I hope we didn’t bother you. Bit of a complication came up.”

  “No problem at all.” I indicate the menu and hope that my stomach doesn’t growl. “This all looks so great.”

  “Thank you.” She rinses her hands in the sink. “What can we get you today?”

  “Rose mentioned a cappuccino? That sounds perfect, thank you.”

  Diane moves across the small bar to the cappuccino machine. Her gait is easy, confident, and her movements as she prepares the drink are efficient and capable.

  She hands me a steaming mug with a complimentary pastry. “So what brings you to Nassau? Vacation?” Diane nods toward the duffle bags at my feet.

  I take a moment to blow on the drink and sip before answering. “Of sorts. More like a fresh start. I’m—” I have to pause and remember I use my middle name now. It helps with the questions. As the death toll rose, so did the coverage of the case—especially when I made it out of it alive. Even now, years later, I still tense up when I say my name, expecting someone to recognize it. “My name is Sienna.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Rose pours her own cup of coffee and takes a seat next to me. “I know what you mean. I felt the same way about sixty years ago and haven’t been able to leave yet. Fresh starts around here turn into lifetimes. You just don’t ever want to leave.”

  “Why would you? It seems so peaceful.”

  “That it does.”

  I gather my courage, hoping to hell that my hands aren’t shaking. “Actually, I couldn’t help but to overhear your conversation. If you need a hand, I can take a look at the sink to see if I can fix it. My last name’s Davenport. Sienna Davenport. Chloe said she talked to you about maybe giving me a job.”

  They share a look. Finally, Diane exclaims. “Thank goodness! Now, I’m going to throw you to the wolves straight off to deal with a little problem because Lord have mercy, we could use some help around here.”

  My mouth drops open and I remember to shut it after a few seconds of stunned silence. “Really?”

  “Normally, I wouldn’t ask you to help just off the street like this, but I’m desperate. Mom and I have been trying to find someone to help out around here for months with no luck. If you want, we can go up to the office to discuss hours and pay.”

  My heart beats a little faster. “Actually, I’ll be staying in Nassau for the foreseeable future. You wouldn’t happen to know of anyone renting out any rooms do you?”

  Rose is pulling cookies from the oven and the smell overwhelms the room, reminding me the pastry was delicious, but small, and I can’t remember the last time I’d eaten before that. My mother had never been very skilled in the kitchen, but there is something about the smell of baking that makes me feel at home.

  Diane perches on one of the bar chairs and nabs a cookie, juggling it around as it cools. “Chloe mentioned how handy you are, and based on the resume she forwarded, my mother and I could use you around
here. There’s always something that needs to be fixed or some errand to run. We also manage the bungalows across the street. The ones that you liked so much. Same goes for our tenants there. I’m assuming you have experience?”

  “Believe it or not, I was raised by a general contractor. I can do just about anything that you need doing. My father insisted on it. In addition, I’ve also done just about every job under the sun. Waitress, secretary, cook, maid.”

  “Have you ever been fired or committed any crimes?”

  My mind flashes back to that night a year ago, but I force myself not to let it show on my face. “No, I haven't.”

  She studies me for another minute before grabbing another cookie and indicating for me to follow. She leads me through the hallway and out the bedroom adjoining the bath I’d just repaired. From there we exit a solarium that opens out to a side road with a fence on either side.

  “We are open year round but do most of our business during the warmer months. At the moment, we have two of the seven rooms occupied, but I expect that we’ll be at full capacity by the end of the month as people take last minute vacations. If you decide to take the position, your duties will include light housekeeping, some paperwork, general Q and A for our guests about the area’s activities, and maintenance as needed. I do most of the cooking here in house, and I may need a hand from time to time. My mother does a little bit of everything else when her health allows.”

  “What would the hours be like?”

  “I’m obviously here around the clock, but I would need you from eight to five, sometimes longer depending on what activities are planned that day. In any case, if that happens, you'll be paid overtime. Are you going to school out here?”

  “No, I haven’t made plans to. Well, not yet anyway."

  She gives me an assessing look as we cross the street toward the bungalows. “If you do, Nassau College has a great selection of night classes, and if need be, we can work around your schedule."