by Tess Oliver
The warmth produced by tension, worry and people calling to each other seemed to help dissolve the thick marine layer.
In the clamor of the loud voices and the runaway boats, I heard Esme calling to someone. “I’m ready. Toss me the line.” Esme was standing at the edge of the pier. Her father and brothers were nowhere in sight. Some of the fishing boats were standing nearby, obviously they’d been spared. Whoever had done this had decided it would be funny to release the boats, but they’d stayed away from the fishing trawlers. The wrath of the fishermen would probably not be worth the thrill gained from the shitty joke. The fishermen were out in small dinghies. They darted in and out of the meandering cluster of unmoored boats. One by one, they pulled the boats back toward the dock.
I stood next to Esme, and as the boat neared the lines were tossed toward us. The faint light of dusk made its way through the blanket of fog, giving those of us on dry land a slightly better view of the chaos on the water. The loose boats looked like a bunch of toys floating around a bathtub, bouncing off each other with each shift of the tide. The sound they made was similar to hollow bones being hit with a mallet. Each collision brought a simultaneous groan on the dock as if the boat owners themselves were feeling the pain.
Two fishermen, the ones who’d greeted Esme last night as we walked to Ben’s boat, focused on one errant vessel and separated it from the rest. “It’s like watching cowboys cut calves out of the herd,” I said. “But with more water.”
I followed Esme to the next set of open cleats. “And no cows.” And there, in the frenzied early morning with the palest light pushing through the clouds, she smiled at me, and I realized that she was the type of girl who could make me stay in one place for awhile. She was tough as nails and pulling boats to the cleats faster than some of the men, and at the same time, she was so damn beautiful, I had to work harder to get a decent breath.
She looked past me. “Ben needs help tying the Molly Ray. I’ve got it.”
Ben stared helplessly at the rope in his gnarled fingers as I walked toward him. I put my hand on his shoulder and hated to see the expression on his face. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to suffer constant pain, and a pain that left your hands basically worthless.
He smiled, but it was easy to see that it was forced. His real smile was always accompanied by a deepening of the creases near his eyes. This one wasn’t. “Just can’t seem to get a grip on it. It’s the weather,” he said quietly.
“I’ve got this.” I took the rope from his hand and went to tie the boat off. As I leaned down, motorcycles rumbled in the distance. The frenzied conversation dropped off to a worried murmur as the two bikes rolled to a stop at the end of the pier.
Bentley started to march toward them, but I put my hand on his arm. “Someone needs to talk to those thugs. They did this.” He lifted his fist. “Come over here you two, hoodlums. One day in town and look at the problems you’ve caused.”
They, of course, gladly took the invite. Both still wore their leather jackets and their walks reminded me of a few club members who’d perfected badass struts to fool people into believing they were tough. I’d faced enough guys like them to know they were also the type that needed weapons to have an upper hand in a fight. Clint had pale colored hair and eyes that almost mimicked its yellow color. Jacob was a bit smaller and darker in hair and color, but they both had noses that were spread across their ugly faces.
“Old Bentley Moore.” Clint laughed, and just the way he’d said Ben’s name made my fingers curl into fists. “I guess you still think you’re out in the jungle in your camouflage,” Clint sneered.
I stepped forward and out of the shadows of the boats. Clint took a visible step back, and his smug grin flattened. “So you got yourself a bodyguard now, huh, old man?”
“We didn’t turn those boats loose,” Jacob sneered. “You old farts must have forgotten to tie the proper knots.”
Several of the other men from town came forward. Bill, Ben’s neighbor, was amongst them. He was a good ten years younger than Ben and looked as if he could handle himself pretty well in a fight. “A witness heard motorcycles before the boats drifted off,” Bill said.
Clint pointed a finger at me. “This guy rides a bike too.”
“Cash was at home.” Ben’s anger was getting the best of him.
Clint leaned back and laughed. “Then maybe someone ought to phone up that stringy, bundle of nerves you fools call Sheriff. Does it still take him twenty minutes to get here?”
Esme walked up next to me. “Instead, why don’t you guys just leave and let us finish getting the boats back. You’ve had your little schoolboy fun. Now go home.”
“We’ll leave,” Clint said. “Just get over here first, so I can stick my tongue into that pretty mouth of—”
His steps backward mirrored every one of my steps forward. I needed him out of earshot of the crowd that’d gathered behind us. He nearly stumbled and then thought better of retreating. He stopped, and I came toe to toe with the asshole. His brother stood inches away ready to jump into action if needed.
Clint flinched at first but then his jaw jutted forward, and he reached for something under his jacket.
“That’s right, idiot. Show them your gun. They’re just looking for a reason to have you both arrested.”
He dropped his hand.
“Why don’t you both get on your bikes and go home… now.” I hadn’t changed my tone at all, but his jutting jaw dropped back some, along with his hardass confidence.
“I’ll let you throw the first punch so you can pretend to be the hero,” Clint said between a clenched jaw. Jacob moved closer but looked less ready than before.
“The problem with that,” I said, calmly, “is that I’m pretty sure if I hit you it’s going to feel so damn good, I’m not going to be able to stop and then one of us might end up dead. And it won’t be me.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and Jacob took a small step back. The onlookers muttered worried comments behind us, but I made sure to keep my voice low. The activity on the water helped drown out our conversation completely.
Clint forced a laugh, but then he motioned for his brother to head back to the bikes.
“Oh,” I said, and he stopped reluctantly and turned back to me. There was a glimmer of fear in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. I scrubbed my fingers over my short cropped hair. It was wet from the fog. I leaned closer. “Just so we’re clear about something. If you ever go near Esme, I won’t bother with this impressive and highly unusual self-control. I will send that ugly face of yours through the back of your skull.”
I turned to leave.
“Your self-control wasn’t all that impressive,” he said coldly.
I glanced back at him. “No? Impressed the fucking hell out of me. Guess you’d have to see me lose it to know what I mean.”
Bentley came up to me. “You are a handy man to have around. And what timing. You showed up in Tucker’s Village just as those two troublemakers came back to town.”
His words were meant as a compliment, but instead, they hammered against my head. I was a fucking magnet for trouble. Even though those two assholes had no connection to me, I couldn’t help but feel that I’d brought some of my famous bad luck to Tucker’s Village. And I knew damn well this wasn’t the last time I’d be facing down those two idiots.
The early morning sun did little to ease the frigid temperature. Thirty minutes into corralling the runaway boats, we had most of them back where they belonged. It seemed everyone from the small town had come out, boat owner or not, to help. The bakery owner had been baking bread, and the fragrance of it made my mouth water as she carried out trays of coffee for everyone.
Esme had her coat sleeves up around her hands as she cradled a steaming cup between her palms. I stood next to her as the last two boats were towed in. Most of the fishing boats had left the marina now to start their day at sea.
“I would have liked to have been a fly on your sweatshirt w
hen you were talking to Clint,” she said. “Even from the distance I stood, it seemed he grew a shade paler when you leaned in to talk to him.” She turned to me. “Care to give me any of the details?”
I shook my head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. He’s just a blowhard, and I’ve met enough guys like him to know that it doesn’t take much to scare them.”
People started drifting back to their houses. Many made sure to give me a nod or pat on the shoulder as they walked past.
“Well, Cash Tremaine,” Esme talked over the brim of her coffee cup, “I think you just warmed your way into the hearts of this town. That has to be a record.”
I looked over at her. Her cheeks were red from the cold and the hard work, and the color made her eyes even bluer.
“Maybe they won’t need to hide their silver and jewels now.”
She laughed.
“Of course, sugar peanut, you know there’s only one member of this town whose heart I’m interested in warming.”
She tucked a long thick curl behind her ear and grinned up at me. “Well, you’ve got a good start on it, sweetie pie.”
Chapter 8
Esme
My dad and Seton were still asleep when I returned from dog walking. Every night they stumbled into the house drunk after an evening on the water doing whatever it was they were up to. I wasn’t completely ignorant to their illicit activities. There were plenty of posh beach houses and even some million dollar boats dotting the coastline just north of the village. This time of year the houses stood mostly vacant, and few people took their yachts out in winter weather. The houses were basically unguarded, and the sea provided the perfect, untraceable escape route. I just wondered why they would bother to include the Ridgewater brothers at all. When we were teens, Seton had gotten suspended from school a number of times and it always had something to do with Clint and Jacob. Then, on one horrid day that has stained my memory forever, Clint trapped me in my room and had torn my shirt before Bodhi walked in to stop him. That final straw had made Dad come to his senses. He’d forbidden Seton from hanging out with them. Putting his foot down was something he rarely did. But now he seemed to have lost any shred of that same common sense. In fact, it seemed all three of them were slipping into a much darker, more degenerate mindset. It sickened me. There was no way any of this could end without some major tragedy or catastrophe.
Bodhi was slouched at the kitchen table staring at his beer can. With blue eyes, brown hair and a white smile, he’d always had a lot of female admirers. But once he fell in step with Dad and Seton, the only two guys he had to look up to, his all-American good looks had slipped behind the ugly life he was now leading.
He lifted his bloodshot eyes to me. “Hey, Esme,” his voice wavered.
“Oh, for fucksake.” His eyes rounded as I marched toward him, snatched the beer from his hand and threw it into the sink, which was overflowing with several days of dirty dishes. For a long time I’d tried to keep the house clean. I’d tried to make it livable so we all had a home to come to at the end of a long day, but I couldn’t keep up. I couldn’t do it by myself so I stopped. That was when my mind became set on moving out.
“What’s your problem?” Bodhi asked.
“You. You look like shit. You’re twenty-two years old, and you look like you’re a hundred and ten. Girls used to come and hang out in the front yard just to say hi to you. Have you noticed that you’ve lost your appeal with the women, or does that no longer matter to you? All you guys care about is making a quick buck and staying drunk.”
He didn’t respond or defend himself, and he scooted down even lower in his chair. His head dropped as if it was too heavy and his mouth stretched into a grim line.
“Let me make you a sandwich.”
“I don’t want a fucking sandwich.”
I pulled up a chair across from him. It took him a long time to look at me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Bullshit.”
He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand. You skip around in your own little world with your dog walking, and your candy selling and you have no clue about anything.”
A short angry laugh shot from my mouth. “Is that what you think? First of all, I’m in my own little world for one reason and one reason only— so I don’t have to be a part of this world.” I waved my arm around the cluttered dreary kitchen. Even the red checked curtains my mom had put up with such enthusiasm had faded to shredded gray cotton. “I don’t want to be part of anything you three are up to. I want to get the hell out of here. That’s all I want. And if you want to get out with me, I’d be happy to have you join my little dog walking, candy selling world. But I’m not going to let myself sink into the swamp of shit Dad is creating.”
His face dropped again, and it almost seemed that if he hadn’t been terrified of being seen crying, he would have sobbed, right then and there at the greasy kitchen table.
I leaned forward. “What the hell is Dad doing including Jacob and Clint in your business? Those two are bad news, and he knows it.”
Bodhi didn’t answer, but from his expression at the mention of the brothers, it seemed I’d zeroed in on the reason for his terrible mood.
“None of this is going to end well,” I said.
“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” He stood up abruptly, and the chair fell back. He kicked open the kitchen door and stomped out. The front door opened, and he slammed it behind him. He tucked his hands in his coat pockets and headed toward the dock. For a brief second, he looked like the innocent, happy-go-lucky brother that I’d played football with on the front yard. But then the light of the sun illuminated his face, and the gray pallor of a life being sucked away returned. My only hope was that Bodhi would tire of the crap that was going on and pull away from Dad’s monstrous influence. And I hoped it would happen before things got completely out of hand.
I could hear Dad stirring in the back room. He was the last person I wanted to see or talk to. I didn’t think I’d be able to control my tongue today, and I didn’t need the stress of a big scene with him.
I had the afternoon off and I’d invited Cash on a picnic down at the beach. My head was still in a muddle about the man. He was like a hot fudge sundae, you know it’s the last thing you need, but you can’t stop yourself from enjoying it.
I hurried and prepared some sandwiches, grabbed a few cans of soda and stuck them in our beat up ice chest. It wasn’t a big, romantic picnic basket, but then Cash didn’t really seem like the type who would care. Seton had gotten the jeep working again, mechanical know-how was the one thing he was good for. I tossed my ice chest and a big blanket into the backseat and climbed in.
Jacob and Clint had laid low after the boat freeing incident, and I wondered if it had anything to do with Cash. They’d gotten on their bikes pretty fast after he’d spoken to them. And it had won Cash huge respect with the neighbors. The jeep was running as if its engine had been filled with sawdust, but it would get us to the beach and back without breaking down… hopefully.
My stomach churned a little as Ben’s house came into view. It was rare for me to feel nervous about a guy, about anything for that matter, but this particular guy had definitely set free some internal butterflies. I pulled the jeep up to the house. Ben and Cash were surveying some of the work Cash had done on the exterior. I stepped out of the jeep and walked up next to them.
“Expertly done, sir,” I said. “You already painted the pieces you replaced.”
“It’s just some primer to protect it until I can paint the whole house,” Cash said.
I glanced around the front yard. Cash had pulled all the dead plants and weeds. It was just a smooth patch of dirt, and yet it was a vast improvement. If only my dad’s house was half as clean. “This place is going to look great, Ben.”
“It sure is thanks to this talented man.” He smiled over at Cash, who I’d already discovered was the type of guy to dislike complimen
ts.
Several of Ben’s neighbors were out on their front yards with boxes of holiday decorations and lights, planning this year’s display.
“Here we go,” I said. “Let the games begin.”
“And just in time. December first,” Ben said.
Cash looked at me questioningly.
“This town gets a little competitive when it comes to Christmas displays. For awhile everyone started decorating the day after Thanksgiving, but then the town council had to limit the start date to December first because people who were out of town for Thanksgiving were pissed when they came back and saw that their neighbors had started before them. And it will all eventually lead to a town-wide blackout, and everyone will stumble dumfounded into the street scratching their heads and wondering how the heck the circuits blew. Last year was a classic year.” I looked at Ben for corroboration.
He seemed to be trying to recall it and then a smile broke on his face. “Hilda Truman’s giant blow-up snowman was wrenched loose from its ground stake. A wind carried it across the street where it subsequently landed on and squashed Vern Smith’s inflatable Grinch. Started a big neighborhood war.”
“Looked like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade gone wild. This year, the inflatables are banned, and I, for one, will be thankful not to have a ten foot Santa glowering down at me from my neighbor’s roof.” I looked at Ben. “Are you going to put up some lights this year?” Since his wife and son had died, Ben had stopped decorating.
He shrugged and looked at Cash. “Maybe I should stop being the Scrooge of the neighborhood. How are you at stringing up holiday lights?”
“I can honestly say that I know nothing about putting up Christmas lights, but I’m sure it won’t be too complicated.”
“Great. Later we can get the boxes out of the attic.”
Cash turned to me. “Should we go? I’m starved.”
“Yep. Sandwiches are in the jeep.”
“Are you still making that sea glass jewelry?” Ben asked before we walked away. “I still think you should sell it on-line.” He turned to Cash. “She makes beautiful necklaces and earrings out of sea glass that she finds out on Brimby’s Cove.”
