by Stewart, Anna J. ; Sasson, Sophia; Carpenter, Beth; Jensen, Muriel
“Hey yourself.” He stepped inside, closed the door and Paige backed up out of his way as she slipped off her jacket and draped it over the back of a chair to dry. “Good thing we had our first official date last night and not today. It’s a mess out there.” He whipped his hat off, stuffed it into his pocket, his gaze circling the apartment.
Paige watched, silently, as he took in the mass of clothes, the unzipped duffel bag, the stack of cash and toiletries.
“Paige? What’s going on?” The lightness she’d come to expect in his voice dulled, as did the light in his eyes. “You going somewhere?”
She hugged her arms around her waist, squeezed hard to remind herself she could still feel something and stood her ground. “We’re, um, leaving Butterfly Harbor. Charlie and me.” Because she couldn’t stand being under the spotlight of his shocked gaze, she moved around him, picked up one of the framed photos of her, Holly and Abby that she’d wrapped in a T-shirt. “I was going to come by later and tell you.”
“No you weren’t.”
She closed her eyes. She never had been able to lie to him. “Look, Fletcher, I’m sure you think this is about you and me and last night—”
“Kind of hard not to. Here I thought things went great. Better than great.”
He hadn’t moved. Not an inch. Then why did she feel as if he had started to take up the entire room?
“It did. I had a wonderful time. I love spending time with you. I love—” Paige stopped herself before she dug herself into a hole of emotion she’d never climb her way out of. “I love that we could get away and have some fun. But something’s come up. And we need to leave.”
“Need to or want to?”
“Need.” Because she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay. With all her heart. “There’s, um, something I need to um, do. Take care of. It’ll take a couple of months. We might be back after that.” She gasped when he walked over and took hold of her arm, spun her around to face him.
The look on his face was everything she’d ever dreaded seeing: confusion, betrayal, anger. And that was before she’d told him anything close to the truth about herself.
“You’re a horrible liar, Paige. If you’re running scared because of me, if you’re willing to leave the one place you’ve come to consider your home because I’m in love with you and you don’t feel the same, I’ll back off. I’ll keep my distance, from you and Charlie. For however long you want.”
“That’s not why I’m—” Whatever she was going to say next vanished out of her mind. “You’re in love with me?”
“That can’t come as a surprise.” His hold on her loosened, shifted, and he slipped his hands down her arms, clasped her fingers between his and brought them up against his rain-dampened sheriff’s jacket. “I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. It was all downhill from there.”
Her chin wobbled as she looked up into the kind depths of his eyes. He was such a good man, such a good person. He’d made such an amazing stand-in father and…he’d fallen in love with a stranger. And that, when all was said and done, was the reality standing between them. “You don’t love me, Fletcher.” She tried to tug free, but he held on tighter. “Believe me, you don’t. You don’t know who I am. What I am.” When he didn’t give any indication of being convinced, she knew she had only one grenade left to lob. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“I don’t care what you’ve done. I’ve seen you work your fingers to the bone ever since you got here to give Charlie a good life, a good home. I’ve seen you with Mrs. Hastings and Nina and Willa. I let you convince me to give Jasper the benefit of the doubt because I know you see the good in people no matter what. I do know you.” He released her hands, and before she could dart out of reach, he caught her face between his palms and bent to press his forehead against hers. “I know and I love you. Please don’t run away from me. Don’t take Charlie away from me.”
His last statement felt like a bucket of ice water to the face. “Don’t you use Charlie in this. Don’t you try to guilt me by using her.” She wrenched herself free. “And don’t negate my feelings or beliefs because you think you know who I am. Because you don’t.”
“Then tell me!” His blast of temper made her jump. “Enough with the cloak-and-dagger and innuendos about what a terrible person you are. If you want me to let you go, you’d better give me a good reason. Right here. Right now. What or who are you running from, Paige?”
“The police!” she yelled. “You wanted the truth. I’m running from the police. Sixteen months ago a material witness arrest warrant was issued for me back in New York. I’m a fugitive, Fletcher.” To make certain there was no room for misinterpretation, she stepped closer and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m a fugitive.”
Funny how when a grenade went off silence descended. Not the ordinary, peaceful ocean-town silence, but that nerve-racking, vibrating absence of sound that frayed every nerve ending in the body. Fletch didn’t move. Not his body, not his face. Not even his eyes. They didn’t flicker as they peered into hers. But she saw it: his faith in her cracked, like she’d slammed her fist into a mirror.
“What did you do?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.” Fletch nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes, actually, it does. Does this have something to do with Charlie’s father dying? Were you trying to support her? Did you steal something? Hurt someone?”
If only. “I treated a teenager for a gunshot wound. I didn’t find out until after that he was suspected of firing first in a drug bust. I didn’t report it.” If she’d hoped to feel a sense of having been cleansed by admitting the truth, she should have known better. The weight just pressed in harder. “I was a semester shy of my nursing degree. He was the grandson of our neighbor. He refused to go to the emergency room and his grandmother was terrified he was going to die. I did what I was trained to do. I saved his life.”
“Was he guilty?”
“What does that matter? He was hurt and needed help. I took an oath, Fletcher. I did my job.” And it had cost her everything. “For the record? Yes, apparently he did do it. And the detective he shot will spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Fifteen years on the job, married with two kids.” A thought that still kept her up at night.
“You aided and abetted a criminal.” The glint in his green eyes went as brittle as glass, shattering as he looked at her. “And then you ran.”
In that moment, any hope she could stay, any hope Charlie could grow up in Butterfly Harbor, any hope Paige had of a future with Fletcher Bradley vanished. But she was done hiding. Done lying. At least as far as Fletcher was concerned. “Yes. To all of it. So tell me again how you love me, Fletcher. Tell me again how I should stay and risk losing my child because I helped someone.”
“Someone who didn’t deserve it. He shot a cop, Paige.”
“So I should have let him die? That’s not how things work in medicine, Fletcher. My job is to save every life I can. It doesn’t matter who that life belongs to or what they’ve done. I don’t get to make that distinction.”
“But you can where the law is concerned. You break the law when it suits you. When it affects you.”
Except it wasn’t going to affect only her. It would have affected Charlie. It had affected Charlie. And that, Paige had to admit, was the real tragedy. Her daughter was going to be tarnished by this for the rest of her life.
“What are you going to do?” Paige asked. “Are you going to turn me in? Or are you going to let me—”
“Or will I let you go?” Every word sounded like he was spewing ice. “What a choice that is. You were right. The Paige I love, she wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t lie to everyone who’s tried to help her ever since she got here. Does Holly know? Or Luke? What about Abby? Mrs. Hastings?”
“No.” She shook her head. “You’re the only person I’ve
told.”
“And with one foot over the city limits. Lucky me.”
“Maybe now you understand why I tried to stay away from you. I didn’t want to lie, Fletcher. I didn’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not.”
“Well, doesn’t that just make me all kinds of stupid. Can’t take a hint even when it’s slapping me in the face.”
“I’m sor—”
“Please, don’t.” He held up his hands, backed away. “You were right before. I really didn’t know you at all.” Every step he took away from her felt like a scalpel slicing her heart. “You really had me fooled.”
She could tell him the rest, that it was Charlie who had been threatened, that she’d only been trying to protect her daughter by running, but just as she’d demanded he not use Charlie against her, she wasn’t going to use her little girl against him. If the only way for her to leave was for him to hate her, so be it. She’d have to accept it.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Paige called from where she stood among the pile of her life, everything she had in the world. “What are you going to do?”
Fletch paused, his knuckles going tight around the doorknob. “What I have to.”
He closed the door behind him.
Paige stared, wondering when, if ever, her heart was going to start beating again. The walls closed in on her. Everything she owned in the world seemed to take on a life of its own, accusing her, reminding her of everything she’d done wrong. Everything she wished she could do over. She’d done so much damage to her life, to Charlie’s, and now to Fletcher’s. The position she’d put him in was impossible.
She walked over to the kitchen table, sorted through the papers by her computer, found the card she wanted. She stared at the number for longer than she should have, her mind racing through the pros and cons, but circling back, always, to what was best for her child.
It was time to stop running. It was time to take responsibility for her actions, however well motivated they might have been.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed. “Hi, Leah? It’s Paige from the Butterfly Diner.” She cleared her throat, blinked back the tears. “How long will it take to draw up an emergency custody agreement?”
* * *
CHARLIE HELD HER arms out at her sides and tried to keep her balance as she followed Simon’s lead across the slippery, rain-slick rocks. She felt like they’d been walking for hours. She was wet, cold, tired and shaking so hard her teeth were chattering. She’d stopped wiping the rain from her face ages ago. It wasn’t any use.
Keeping her head down, her hood laces pulled tight to protect her head, she wobbled this way and that toward what she and Simon hoped was a clearing on the other side of the beach.
“Simon!” Charlie called but her voice disappeared into the wind snapping at her jacket and sleeves. “Simon, slow down! I can’t see you!” She squinted, tried to see through the raindrops.
“I’m over here!”
Simon’s voice was faint, but Charlie felt her chest relax a little when she caught sight of his red raincoat off in the distance.
The wind billowed, blasting around her and driving her back. She cried out, ducked down and scraped her fingers into the slippery rock for balance. She waited, counting slowly until things calmed down. Her backpack was soaked, getting heavy and dragging her backward. Turning her back on the ocean, she unzipped her jacket, shimmied an arm free so she could take off the backpack. Feeling lighter and more in control, she put her jacket back on and, clutching the butterfly pack against her chest, made her way to where Simon had disappeared around a tall outcropping of algae-covered rocks.
“Simon?” she called when her feet hit sand. She sank down, ankle-deep, sand clumps dropping into her shoes, into her socks.
“This way! I found the caves!” Charlie set her backpack down and ran toward him. The small opening looked just like it did on the map they’d found online. Just like the map in the storybook she’d discovered on Mrs. Hastings’s bookshelf weeks ago.
“Simon, you did it!” Charlie squealed and danced out of the way as a wave of water rushed up behind them and cascaded into the passage in front of them. “It has to be in there.” She dived forward, but Simon caught her jacket.
“Wait.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a huge flashlight that took two hands to turn on. “It’s one of those waterproof ones.” The beam of light seemed pretty weak to Charlie, but when he aimed it into the narrow passage, she could see inside. “I should go first.” Simon pulled her back.
“Why? Because you’re a boy?”
“No, because I have the flashlight. Unless you want to go walking in the dark.”
“I have to be the one to find it. Only the person who finds it gets their wish, and you already got yours.” She held out her hands, which had gone bright pink and very stiff. It hurt to bend her fingers, but she couldn’t stop now. She was so close. “Please let me have the light, Simon.” She had to yell over the wind.
He didn’t look convinced, but it was hard to tell given all the water on his glasses. He needed that impervious spell that wizard in the books used during his sporting matches.
“Please, Simon. It has to be me.”
“Yeah, okay.” He still didn’t look happy about it as he handed the flashlight over.
Charlie bent down, aimed the light up, down and around so she could see what the best angle was. She ducked inside just as another wave washed in behind her, pushing her off balance, and rushed her into the cave far faster than she would have liked. But once she was inside…
She heard Simon splashing behind her as he followed. Her ears almost hurt at how quiet it was. She set the light down, pushed her hood off and turned in a slow circle as she noted what seemed like endless passageways erupting in front of her.
“Which way do we go?” She looked back at Simon, who was digging the map out of his other pocket. “I didn’t think there would be this many to choose from.”
“Neither did I. Hang on.” Simon walked over and held the map over the light. “Should be the third one from the left.” He pointed to the tunnel just ahead of them. “See? They’re all here, and this has the dotted red line going forward. Sound good to you?”
“Yes.” Except now she wasn’t so sure this had been a good idea at all. It smelled really weird in here. Really dirty and stuffy and the water was spilling in from the ocean, dripping down off the ceiling as if it had been flooded not so long ago. “It’s getting late. We should probably hurry up.”
“Yeah. Abby told us to be back by three for your mom to pick you up.”
“What time is it now?”
“Two fifteen.” He squinted at his watch. “I think. My watch is really wet. Come on. Let’s go.” This time after Charlie picked up the light, he held out his hand. She took it. They walked side by side into the passageway, scrunching together as the walls shrank.
Her feet slapped in the water that was coming up around her ankles, splashing up around her knees. They kept walking, deeper and deeper. Simon slowed down, squeezed his hand around hers. “Maybe we need to go back.”
“We can’t,” Charlie said even as she was thinking the same. “What if we’re super close and we just walk away? Please just a little more? I promise, if we don’t come to the end soon I’ll—” Except the passageway did end.
And it opened up into a cavern that sloped down. An outcropping of rocks jutted around the edge like a walkway.
Charlie aimed the beam around, looking up and down, for something, anything that looked like the magical wooden box the story talked about. The butterfly box that would fix everything she’d done wrong.
“I don’t like this, Charlie.” Simon held back when she took a step onto the ledge.
She heard a crack under her feet. Something shifted. But she kept moving, her eyes scanning until she
caught the glint of something in the corner across the expanse. She looked down, felt her stomach drop as she realized just how high up she was.
“I think I see it!” She aimed the light across the way. “And I’m small enough to get around.” The ledge was maybe a foot wide, if she remembered her first-grade math class on rulers correctly.
“Charlie—” Whatever else Simon said was drowned out by the rushing roar of water shooting through the passageway, circling and filling the bottom of the cave.
“It won’t take me long!” She set the flashlight down on the ledge, aimed it across the way so she could see where she was heading. The sooner she reached the box, the sooner she could have her family and not have to leave Butterfly Harbor.
“Charlie, no! Come back!” Simon’s frantic yell had her looking over her shoulder as another wave crashed into the space. She walked faster, curved around, sliding one hand against the sharp rocks on one side. She held out the other to stop herself from toppling over. It was like the balance beam, she told herself, in that gymnastics class she’d taken in Ohio. She just had to be very careful and very deliberate about where she stepped and how much weight she put on her…
“I see it!” The object she’d seen from the entrance glimmered. Shiny. It looked like polished wood, just like the treasure box from the story. When she stopped in front of it, she felt her eyes burn with tears. “It’s here!” She bent down, reached out to touch it. All she had to do was open it and tell it her heart’s deepest desire. Her fingers wrapped around the edges and she pulled. It didn’t move. She tried again. Nothing. She grunted, shifted positions, pushed her hands deeper into the space between the box and the rocks. Water lapped up from beneath her, soaking her shoes.
