The only sound was the distant pounding of the waters in Saratoga Passage onto the driftwood-strewn beach beneath the bluff in front of the house—and the thump of Niles Latimer’s logs. These and some loud sniffing from Jazzy, her Sheltie-Yorkie mix. Jazzy didn’t settle until he had explored every corner and cranny of new digs.
Jazzy was seeing the house on Washington’s Whidbey Island for the first time.
Chris had never met the dog.
Leigh tapped a foot, summoning up the energy she was famous for. It had been on the rocky beach below the cottage that she met Chris for the first time. She had come by chance, looking for a retreat. A pin in a map was her guide to Chimney Rock Cove, even if she had rejected the first two places her pin landed, and from the moment she saw the place it seemed familiar and she wanted to be there. Chris was the clincher.
Sometimes she had been convinced it wasn’t the pin that brought her to Whidbey Island, but fate—not that she believed in fate. Or did she? Even the air in the place felt different and colors took on their own fresh brilliance.
Now there was a job waiting for Leigh at Gabriel’s Place, a bar and grill in a forested setting a few miles south of Langley. She had found the help-wanted ad in a discarded newspaper at a Seattle coffee shop and called on impulse before she could change her mind.
Gabriel Jones had interviewed her on the phone and told her she was hired. Just like that. Of course she knew him from the times she and Chris had eaten at the restaurant north of the little stone house Chris’s grandfather had built almost entirely with his own hands.
As soon as she had hung up the phone from speaking with Gabriel about the job, and to make sure she didn’t find an excuse to back out, Leigh gave notice at Microsoft and took her software engineering skills north to the island she had tried to stay away from in case she couldn’t deal with the memories. But after all, thanks to Chris, she owned the house and land at Chimney Rock, and knew the area intimately. And she didn’t care if designing a web page for a local bar and eatery, getting the accounts computerized, and generally trying to drag the place out of the red was a huge step down from what she was trained to do.
The measly pay would cover expenses, not that she cared about that either, and she wouldn’t be the first woman to be way overqualified for a position.
This was where she had been happier than at any other time in her life and sadness had become so old. She was ready to laugh again, maybe make a friend or two.
She was talking herself into this. Perhaps she was succeeding.
The least she could do was see how she did spending a night alone in the house. She filled her lungs with crystal air and shivered at the tingle that whipped over her skin.
Time to pick up and make a life again, that’s what she had told herself, many times, until she finally got the message and knew she was right.
The phone rang, and rang, and rang. She picked it up on the fifth ring, figuring someone didn’t intend to leave her alone until she answered—not that anyone was supposed to know she was here.
“Hello.” The wintry evening snapped cold outside but she could see a steel blue moon rising beyond the windows, even with all the lamps switched on.
“You okay?”
Leigh didn’t recognize the voice. “Who is this?”
“Gabriel Jones… at Gabriel’s Place. I’ll be there in an hour or so. I picked up a few groceries for you. Enough to get you started. Sorry to be so late coming.”
Of course it was Gabriel. Who else would it be? Puffing air into her cheeks and holding it, Leigh tried to think coherently but failed. She wanted to tell him not to come, didn’t she? Yes, definitely.
“I’ve got a couple of phone numbers for your neighbors just in case you need to call someone,” he said. “You can always reach me if you’ve got a problem.”
She and Chris had only come up on weekends and she didn’t recall ever talking to a neighbor. The nearest house, which must belong to Niles Latimer, was built farther south on a piece of land that jutted out to the water’s edge beneath the bluff. Chris said he didn’t think he would like it there when the tide was in and water lapped around concrete bulkheads built to protect the foundation of the big cabin.
“You still there?” Gabriel said. He had one of those deep, vibrating voices that sounded as if he would sing baritone—and as if he smoked. Leigh didn’t know about either. She did know he was an ex-football player who was imposingly huge.
“You don’t have to do all this,” she said. But she couldn’t be rude. “I’d be very grateful for the groceries but you don’t need to bother with anything else. It’s all fine here.”
“I’m not checking the electricity,” Gabriel said. “Niles will do that. He knows all that stuff.”
“We already met. The power seems fine. Thank you, both of you, for getting the gutters clean and the wood in.”
Leigh tried to ignore Jazzy, who was scratching the front door. The dog should not need to go out again.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Good. Wanted to make sure I told you how glad I am you’re here. I couldn’t believe my luck when you took the job. It’s real different from what you’re used to. Could be a breath of fresh air for you. Different air anyway. The pay’s not much but by the time you’ve started bringing in more customers—and I know you will—I’ll be able to afford more. You do know all your meals are found. That’ll help.”
She didn’t know how to answer.
“Anyway, Leigh, give yourself a few days to settle in. Start here when you’re ready. I’ll be over with the groceries.”
Leigh opened her mouth to say she intended to begin work tomorrow but Gabriel said, “Bye,” and hung up the phone.
The scratching continued, and an uncharacteristic whining. Leigh made her way back from the kitchen and through the living room with its assortment of slightly sagging armchairs covered with a fabric resembling tartan carpet in shades of rust and green.
She let Jazzy run outside, where he only went as far as the edge of the weathered gray porch and sat with his head raised, sniffing. The fringes of blond fur on his ears and above his eyes stood straight up in the breeze.
The open door let in a whiff of air off the water. Very little about the house had been changed since Chris’s grandparents’ time. He had liked it that way and Leigh still did.
She wasn’t ready to climb the stairs to the loft yet. That’s where they had slept and felt so cocooned and isolated in their own world—safe in each other’s arms and in their love.
Leigh did look up at the patchwork quilt draped over the loft railings. Even that was grungy-looking. Many months of neglect had coated the whole place with dirt, but cleaning would help her adjust and keep her mind busy at the same time.
A while later the downstairs had begun to feel the way Leigh liked it. She had tied her hair back with a scarf and rolled up her sleeves and the legs of her jeans. Sweating from physical labor helped ease the tension.
Illuminated by the yellowish porch light, buckets of dirty, sudsy water made a river through mud near the porch. Leigh wiped her face on a sleeve. The house smelled clean. Within days it would be its old shiny self.
She heard the powerful engine of Niles Latimer’s truck start. By the time she got to the kitchen door his taillights were disappearing through the canyon of firs as he drove up the track leading to the road. Leaving him alone like that for hours without as much as the offer of some coffee stank. She had been so preoccupied she got used to the sounds of him working and now she was sorry he had left. He had been there a long time.
She grabbed a flashlight and stepped outside the door. The woodshed was full and extra logs stood in piles covered with tarpaulins. The whole area was raked free of debris and he had pulled out the jungle of weeds from behind the shed. No wonder he had spent a lot of time there. She would take him some cookies or a pie, or both, and write a thank-you note.
“Neighbors look out for neighbors.” His voice came to her clearly, and the vision o
f a vibrant man with steady, amazingly blue eyes.
Loneliness could become a dangerous companion.
Losing herself in work again was the best way to shut out unwanted thoughts.
Darkness became complete and milky mist rose off the water to curl up over the bank. Seat cushions from the chairs had been vacuumed and stood propped on the porch to air out. If she didn’t bring them in they would get damp.
Followed back and forth by Jazzy, she hauled in the cushions and replaced them. The bookshelves were dusted, including the books, and the crystal birds Chris had inherited and liked had all been washed in ammonia until they sparkled. Every table had been polished, the big Oriental rug vacuumed and the wooden floors washed. Leigh had done the dark boards on her hands and knees.
Dragging stiffness dug between her shoulders. She looked up at the unlit loft. If she was to have a place to sleep, there was no putting it off any longer. Clean sheets and the swipe of a duster over the obvious surfaces would have to do for now. She had already freshened up the one bathroom in the place, a shower combination that was downstairs.
Moving rapidly, she climbed the stairs and coughed when she pulled the hanging quilt from the railings. It must go to the cleaners. She would have to do something about getting a washer and dryer here—if she stayed. Not that she knew where they could be hooked up other than outside.
Using a set of sheets she had brought from the condo in Seattle, she changed the bed in record time and gathered everything for the laundry into a pile in one corner.
Gabriel hadn’t come with the groceries. Smiling to herself, Leigh went wearily downstairs again. The main reason Gabriel needed help was that he was disorganized and disinclined to attend to detail—like milk and bread for Leigh. She got her keys and bag, hoping there would be somewhere open in Langley. If all else failed, the gas station carried a few things.
“C’mon, Jazzy,” she said. “We’re going for a ride.”
Jazzy rolled his eyes. Leigh couldn’t tell anyone her dog did that, but he did—sort of—if there was something he didn’t want to do. Jazzy didn’t much like riding in the car, particularly not when he was already curled up and comfy on one of Leigh’s freshly cleaned chair seats.
She opened the front door and barely stopped herself from falling over a box and a small ice chest. Gabriel must have sensed on the phone that she wasn’t ready for visitors. “You’re a good man, Mr. Jones,” she said aloud, hauling the box, then the ice chest to the kitchen. A potted poinsettia with leaves in two shades of deep pink nestled between coffee, bread, and several boxes of cookies.
Leigh sighed. This was all part of tackling a normal life again, and she had better get used to it. Gabriel was being thoughtful and kind and the plant was beautiful, obviously one of the many that had not been sold over Christmas.
“Doggy treat,” Leigh called out, producing a surprising box of rawhide chews.
Instantly, Jazzy raced into the kitchen, his black currant eyes shining behind the wispy fringe of beige hair. He stood on his hind legs and danced, until he could grab the chew and take off.
Leigh put the poinsettia on the draining board and gave it some water. When she turned around, Jazzy was back—without the chew—and standing on his hind legs again, pawing the air like a miniature wild horse.
“Pig,” Leigh said, knowing her shaggy friend’s penchant for hoarding. “Okay, but don’t come back again.” She gave him another, bigger chew and scratched his head.
Half an hour later, the groceries put away and a cup of tea in hand, Leigh headed into the living room, sat down, and stretched out her legs. If she wasn’t careful she’d fall asleep in the chair, and appealing as that might be, it wouldn’t feel so good in the morning.
The front door was still open—just a few inches—and a cold draft slid through.
Leigh got up and trudged across the floor. She could hear Jazzy gnawing on his chew. Arching her back, she listened again and held her breath. The sound of teeth scraping across something hard got louder—too loud to be made by her little dog.
She looked outside and it took all the restraint she had not to scream.
Side by side on the porch lay Jazzy and a new companion. Jazzy chewed the little piece of rawhide. His friend gnawed the other one.
“Jazzy, come here,” Leigh croaked.
Her contrary buddy stared at her, then licked the face of the other animal… wolf, giant mutant dog, something escaped from a zoo somewhere, or whatever it was. Leigh wanted to slam her door on the blue-black creature with massive shoulders, hard muscle that undulated with even the slightest move, and lion-sized feet.
It stared at her with soft golden eyes while she shivered and poised herself to grab her silly, trusting little dog and pull him to safety.
The giant rose slowly, backed away a step or two. He was a magnificent dog, she decided, and very scary. With one paw he batted Jazzy on the butt, sending him toward Leigh a whole lot faster than he ever moved by choice.
Back rippling beneath the wiry fur along its spine, what was left of the chew delicately balanced between his teeth, their bizarre visitor lumbered from the porch and was instantly absorbed into shadows.
She thought she heard soft, measured footfalls that entered the forest and kept on loping. Only, of course, she couldn’t hear an animal walking on spongy ground from this distance. Or see a faint, gauzy trail of silver slipping from the bluff to follow in the dog’s wake…
chapter THREE
LEIGH WROTE ROADSIDE SIGNAGE on a list she had started in a new, college-ruled notebook.
She found the notebook waiting for her on top of a teetering, foot-high pile of bills in the office at Gabriel’s Place. Or she assumed it was for her. The computer didn’t appear usable but she would manage for today and bring in her own laptop tomorrow.
Her eyes felt heavy. After confronting the monster-sized dog, followed by a night when she dealt with memories of other times in that bed, with Chris, sleep had not come easily.
The dog would be a puzzle until she could prove to herself that she hadn’t been hallucinating.
Thoughts of Chris had been inevitable, but more sweet than bitter. She couldn’t hope to move on unless she learned to remember the best of what they’d had without letting grief take away the smiles.
It was a great goal but she didn’t kid herself she would always succeed.
Gabriel put his head around the door of what he had called his office when she arrived. In the next breath he had told her he was giving the chaotic little room to her—he didn’t need that much space for the paperwork he had to do.
There wasn’t actually any free space in the disaster area.
“Hey, how are you doing?” he said, just a bit too cheerfully.
“Good, I think.” She figured Gabriel didn’t plan on doing any paperwork from here on out—evidently he hadn’t done much in the past. The office was around ten by ten and littered with stacks of files, opened and unopened envelopes, overflowing wastebaskets, a shredder that couldn’t be used because it was jammed and spilling ripped paper, and pill bottles, mostly vitamins and aspirin. “I may need to get a few supplies if that’s okay with you.” The pen in her hand was one of many she had tried before finding one that worked.
He grinned and she saw him relax his big muscles. “Anything you want. Just take money from the till.”
Any gentle lectures about not telling people to take money from the till for miscellaneous items could wait—a little while. Money was obviously the commodity that needed most attention around here.
Leigh looked around. When she felt the time was right she would beg to take down the major league football posters that covered every wall—and the ceiling. The one on the door had a hole punched through for the handle.
Gabriel followed her glance over the room. “You’re all settled in,” he said, inching all the way into the room. “You look as if you’ve been here forever.”
Leigh didn’t say that it was everything other than her th
at looked as if it had been there forever—including the computer with its chunky, bullet-shaped monitor and, she figured, a ten-inch screen. Decorated with many faded stickers—all football related—the monitor sat on top of the box with a keyboard stored behind it. She already knew the entire unit was unplugged. The total absence of response when she tried plugging it in told the whole story.
“I’m enjoying the smell of raw logs,” she said. No point getting started here with nothing but a litany of complaints. “Is the whole building made of cedar?”
“Sure is.” Gabriel looked pleased. “I wanted a real log place all my life and finally got one. I reckon a man couldn’t want anything more.”
If he didn’t do something about the organizational mess she could already see he was in, he wouldn’t have his pretty sprawling building as long as he wanted to.
“You making lists?” Gabriel said, obviously trying hard for a good beginning to their professional relationship. “I like lists. Always put a bunch of things on there I’ve already done so I can cross ’em off quick.”
“I bet that really gets you revved up and going on the rest of your list,” she said. “I’m just jotting things as they come to mind. I figure I’ll do that each day and discuss them with you before I go home.”
The big, craggy-faced man immediately looked uncertain but he smiled and she noticed again that he had a smile that would melt marble, and he was nice-looking in a rough-hewn way. He had muscles on muscles and he was fit. Gray tipped the ends all over his tightly curled black hair, and his dark skin shone.
“I want you to feel free to put your own mark in here,” he said. “What you don’t want, chuck it out. And let me know what you want to make it feel more like home.”
“Thanks.” As if she knew where to start.
“It was Sally who talked me into putting that ad in The Stranger. She’s Cliff’s—he’s our cook—she’s his assistant. I didn’t want to do it but I’m sure glad I did. I couldn’t believe it when it was you who called. The last time I saw you and Chris… ”
Darkness Bound Page 2
