Stone Guardian

by Maeve Greyson

  Fierce waves crashed farther up the coastline, exploding into glittering droplets of liquid sparks ignited by the waning sunlight. Emma swiped a hand across her eyes and shuddered as the fishy scent of the sea closed in all around her. The briny tang suffocated her with ever-increasing reminders of the terrors hidden in the water. She’d never be able to sleep this close to the ocean. With a glance at the thick-mudded outer walls of the cottage against her shoulder, she peered closer at the storm shutters snugged back beside the windows. If she batted them closed and pulled the heavy curtains tight across the spotless panes of glass, perhaps the demonic sound of relentlessly pounding surf would be blocked.

  Other than its unfortunate location, the whitewashed cottage with its cheerful red shutters and nubby thatched roof called out to every nesting instinct Emma hadn’t known she had. If only they’d built it farther away from the shore, preferably dead center of the tiny island. Realizing she’d been holding her breath, Emma forced herself into a slow controlled exhale as she scrubbed trembling fingers through her hair.

  Breathing didn’t help. The terrorizing sound roared louder, taunting in its tone. The menace of the unrelenting sea hissed out its threats against the stones and scattered debris littering the beach. The waves threatened to hunt her down and take her.

  Scurrying inside, Emma slammed the door, rattling the hinges in the doorframe with the force powered by her fear. Emma closed her eyes and leaned against it, heart hammering into her throat. Get a grip. You signed up for at least a year of this. You knew this was an island. Suck it up and concentrate on getting through just one minute at a time. You can do this.

  A wave of nausea washed across her body. Beads of cold sweat popped across her upper lip. Resting her head back against the door, Emma clapped both hands over her ears and pulled in a shaking breath. She didn’t have time for a panic attack. She refused to give in to those old demons she’d escaped years ago. Forcing her body away from the support of the sturdy oak door, she stumbled her way across the room to the over-stuffed couch centered in front of a peat-burning hearth. With a hesitant glance at the cloud-streaked sky through the windows, she forced in another deep breath and slowly eased her hands away from her ears. Nothing but the faintest whooshing sound whispered its way into the rooms of the cozy cottage. Thank goodness for good old Scottish ingenuity when it came to building a thick-walled croft able to withstand the punishment of a spot by the sea. As long as she kept the windows shut and the curtains drawn, she should be okay. Maybe.

  Emma shook away the last vestiges of uneasiness and padded barefoot across colorful patches of mismatched rugs scattered across a wooden floor. Breathing came easier now that she couldn’t hear the sounds of the terrifying water. She risked a glance through the kitchen window situated across the room. Thank goodness. Nothing but rocks and swaying tufts of tall, yellowed grass peeped back at her through the glass. Emma glanced around the compact kitchen snuggled in the corner of the room. It was perfect. Since she didn’t cook, the tiny kitchen equipped with only the most basic needs suited her to a T.

  The unmistakable smell of sanitizing bleach tingled in her nostrils. Emma smiled approval and opened her laptop atop the spotless counter. Perched on the edge of a spindle-backed stool that wobbled every time she shifted her weight, Emma scooted a little to one side. No good. The lopsided chair still seesawed every time she moved. The floor must not be even. Leaning over, Emma watched the clawed feet of the seat while she gripped the rim of the counter and wiggled. There was the culprit. A missing pad on the right front leg created a catty-wumpus balance. A piece of strategically folded cardboard would definitely be in order or she’d bark her shins on the handles of the cabinet every time she moved. With a shake of her head, she pulled herself closer to the countertop and concentrated on searching through her bag for the elusive network card. Emma rummaged through every zippered pocket and pouch of the satchel like a squirrel searching for a buried nut. The hob-legged stool wobbled again. Emma braced her feet inside the narrow shelves beneath the cupboard doors and locked her knees against the wood. She’d worry about the short-legged stool later. It was time to call Laynie.

  “There you are, you little beast.” Her fingers curled around the card tucked in the middle of the jumbled chaos inhabiting the bottom of the bag. Emma fished it free of the clutter and clicked it into the laptop. Finally. Her homesick heart ached so much she could hardly swallow. She needed a baby sister fix.

  With a glance at her watch, Emma tapped her fingers together, counting the hours backwards. Laynie should still be up. Emma signaled with a text message and waited. The little check mark and the D appeared beside the message on the phone’s screen. Emma glanced over at the phone’s readout screen while she impatiently tapped both thumbs against the outer edge of the laptop. The text showed delivered. What was little sister waiting for? “Come on, Laynie, you promised.” She glared at the framed video box on the laptop screen and chewed one corner of her bottom lip. Squinting both eyes, Emma willed her sister’s face to appear.

  “It’s about time you checked in with me.” Laynie’s image blipped onto the screen, her words about a half second delayed from the movements of her mouth.

  “I had to get settled in first. You should really be proud of me, Laynie. They’ve put me in an oceanfront cottage and I haven’t curled up into a helpless ball of shattered nerves a single time.” Yet. Emma silently added. She leaned forward, propping her chin atop her hands. Baby sister never looked so good.

  “Why are you talking like you’re in a cheap karate movie? Your mouth is still moving after your voice has already gotten here. And did you say you’re in an oceanfront cottage? Emma, are you gonna be okay? You might not be curled up in a ball yet but it’s probably just a matter of time. How long has it been since you had one of your nightmares? Your skin looks like it’s stretched too tight around your mouth. Are you sure you’re all right?” Laynie’s image flickered in and out of wavering gray static as she shifted and leaned closer to the screen.

  Emma squirmed back a bit on the stool, nearly toppling over as the shorter leg wobbled with the movement. Curse Laynie’s sharp intuition. Her nosy little sister’s antennae twitched out the slightest bit of Emma’s uneasiness even thousands of miles away. “I’ll be fine and don’t sit so close. I can’t see you as well when you’re so close to the screen.” Adjusting the volume of the speakers, she leaned to the side and motioned to the room behind her. “Besides, look how cozy this place is on the inside. And it’s not like I’m going to be home very much. Most of my time will be at the clinic. Whenever I’m here, I just won’t stay outside very long.” Emma snapped her fingers in front of the web cam and gave an exaggerated wink. “Piece of cake!”

  Laynie rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn while glaring into the webcam. “You know, Emma, for someone who’s supposed to be so intelligent, you sound amazingly stupid sometimes.”

  “Laynie!” Emma frowned at her sister’s yawning image. “Is that any way to talk to your wonderful sister?”

  “You’re so full of crap. You’re on an island, Em. You can’t escape the fact that water is all around you. Face it. You’re going to have to break down and get the help you should’ve gotten years ago. Counseling helped me. Now stop being so damn stubborn and get yourself some help. If you don’t, your nightmares are going to start up again. You know what a bear you are when you don’t get enough sleep. You can’t function and the devil himself can’t get along with you.” Laynie’s image blipped out again and reappeared as she shifted positions and yawned even bigger than the last time.

  Emma closed her eyes. Her heart pounded at Laynie’s suggestion. The idea of counseling soured on her stomach and left a foul taste in her mouth. She stood by the decision she’d made long ago: hide your feelings from the world and take care of everyone else. Baring insecurities to a total stranger went against everything she’d ever known. She was the strong one everyone ran to when anything went wrong. She couldn’t be the one to show a hint
of weakness or reveal any inner fears. Emma swallowed hard as a tiny voice echoed through her thoughts. After all, that’s why you were left behind.

  Emma cleared her throat, sat up straighter and squared her shoulders in front of the computer screen. “I’ll be fine, Laynie. This will be a good test for me to prove that I’ve finally worked past it all. Don’t worry about me. You’ve got your graduate work to keep you busy.” Emma forced a wider smile across her face. “I’m looking forward to addressing you as Dr. Maxwell soon.”

  “Like I said before, you are so full of crap.” Laynie pinched the bridge of her nose and massaged the inner corners of her squinting eyes as she raked her other hand through her tangled mass of hair. “Now if you’re finished telling me this latest set of lies, would you mind letting me go to bed and we’ll meet up again tomorrow night after you’ve had a chance to settle into your surroundings. I’ve got another set of finals tomorrow and if I fail to graduate and get my certification, you get to pay for the next round of boards.”

  “Go to sleep, baby sister. Good luck tomorrow and know how much I love you.” Emma’s heart clenched at Laynie’s droopy-eyed image. Poor Laynie, she’d probably been up hours cramming for final exams and the dreaded certification boards. Laynie never knew when to mind her own business. Baby sister was going to make a fine psychologist someday.

  “Love you too, sis. Find yourself a big sexy Scotsman to warm your bed. That’ll make you forget all about that water.” Laynie winked and blew a kiss as her image disappeared from the screen.

  “You little minx.” Emma clicked the button to reconnect but the signal wouldn’t go through. Closing the laptop, Emma rubbed one hand over the warm surface of the still humming machine. An ache of homesickness tugged deep in her chest and threatened to manifest into stinging tears. Biting the sad smile pulling at her lips, Emma stared at the silver-topped computer and sniffed. Some things never changed. Laynie always had to have the last word.

  Chapter Seven

  “I know you don’t mind giving me a lift but I can’t take advantage of your hospitality for my entire stay on the island.” Not if I want to keep my teeth from rattling out of my head. Emma clutched her overstuffed backpack against her chest as Alfred floored the truck through another gauntlet of potholes.

  Waving away Emma’s words, Moira smiled with a dismissive clucking sound until the truck lurched and went slightly airborne as Alfred gunned it out of a hole. “Alfred! Mind the road, ye old fool. Dr. Emma’s surely not accustomed to such careless drivin’.” Moira leaned forward, scowling around Emma’s bag while slapping both pudgy hands atop the dashboard.

  “It’s the damn road, woman. We’ve come this way a thousand times. Ye know this route is rough as the ridges of a dragon’s back.” Alfred scowled straight ahead. His gnarled hands sawed the steering wheel back and forth as though trying to keep pace with the popping static farting from the broken speakers.

  “Besides—” Emma grabbed for the edge of the seat as the truck veered to the left then jerked back to the right. “You never know when I might be called out for an emergency.” If I survive this ride to the clinic. She groped for the seat belt, tightened it for a second time then searched inside the collar of her shirt for her lucky necklace. Forget about waiting until this afternoon to get a rental, she’d get one as soon as she could sneak away from the clinic this morning.

  “Ye know we don’t mind taking ye wherever ye need to go.” Moira patted Emma’s arm. Her plump fingers clutched Emma’s sleeve as Alfred swerved the truck into the parking lot of a short sturdy building with gleaming whitewashed walls.

  “I know. And I appreciate your generosity.” Emma gave Moira her best reassuring smile as she scooted across the seat and hopped out of the truck. Thank goodness. Solid ground. Smooth asphalt beneath her feet never felt so good. Catching her lip between her teeth, she scanned the building with a quick up and down glance. Emma pulled in a deep, cleansing breath. A familiar mix of uneasiness and excitement surged through her veins. So this was it. Her project for the next year. “So, this is our new children’s clinic.”

  “Aye.” Moira nodded. “‘Twas once used as a barracks for the naval reservists during the First World War. She’s a bit old but she’s been kept up and she’s weathered the test of time.”

  The low-slung building ran the length of the street; a patched metal roof with a defined sag toward the middle gave testament to aging rafters. Every narrow window marching across the front wall shone a brilliant sparkling clean in the morning light. The concrete stoop with the handicap ramp stood roped off with bright yellow tape. Emma noted the dark gray coloring of the still damp concrete. Workers must’ve finished smoothing the cement just a short time ago.

  “I think it’s going to be perfect.” Emma smiled and tamped down the old new-project nerves with the warmth emanating from the building. A feeling of community involvement exuded from every angle of the structure. She didn’t know if it was the starched white curtains fluttering at the partially opened windows or the elderly gentleman in over-sized coveralls sweeping the sidewalk by the door. All she knew was that the area emitted a relaxing air from its yet-to-be-painted, obviously new double doors.

  With a happy chuckle, Moira pulled her over-sized bag from behind the seat of the truck. “Oh this is going to be just grand, Dr. Emma, just grand indeed. Come, let’s get ye inside and introduce ye around. Everyone is going to be so pleased to meet ye.”

  Looping her purse handles over the crook of one arm, Moira scurried up the inclining sidewalk with short clipping steps. “This is Harris.” Moira fluttered a hand toward the whistling gentleman ambling along the path beside the clinic. As they drew near, he slowed to a complete halt and leaned against the tattered push broom, tucking knobby arthritic hands snug against the crook of his shoulder.

  “Good morning, Harris.” Emma nodded and beamed her friendliest smile. She loved it when local folks cared enough about a project to lend a helping hand. Sweeping was definitely the perfect chore for Harris. He probably needed the support of the broom to remain upright. From the look of his weathered skin and stooped back, he might be as old as the land on which they stood.

  “G’mornin’ to ye, Doctor.” Harris tapped the brim of his tweed cap with a shaking crooked finger. “Welcome to our lovely island.”

  “Ye missed a spot, Harris.” Alfred pointed a bent finger to a bit of gravel on the edge of the walkway as he wheezed his way up beside Emma.

  “Then bring your lazy arse down here and get it,” Harris challenged with a jerk of his grizzled chin. He hitched a step forward, brandishing the broom, fire flashed from his watery gray eyes.

  “I’ll show ye lazy, ye old bas—”

  “Now that’s enough,” Emma pulled on Alfred’s sleeve. “I’m sure Harris was just about to sweep that spot when we interrupted him.” Keeping a firm hold on fuming Alfred’s arm, Emma turned to Harris. “And Harris, Alfred has been quite busy chauffeuring me all over the island since I arrived. So let’s everyone treat each other with some respect, shall we? Everyone’s duties are equally important.” Emma expected the children to behave this way. She hadn’t counted on having to referee a couple of dueling old codgers.

  “Well said, Dr. Emma. I’m ashamed o’ ye both.” Moira pushed between Alfred and Harris, her low heels stomping sharp clicks of disapproval. “Is this any way to greet someone who’s come such a long way to set up a clinic to help our wee bairns? Shame on the both of ye. Yer behaving worse than the children do when there’s a new toy donated to the nursery.” Moira puffed up with disapproval. Her impeccably powdered face reddened into a stormy scowl as she clucked at them with a wagging finger. “Forgive them, Dr. Emma. They’ve known each other since the cradle and these two will spar and spat ’til they’re lowered into their graves.”

  Both men ducked their heads under Moira’s terse scolding but Emma didn’t miss the glares they shot at each other from beneath their scraggly brows. Emma drummed her fingers atop the shining black handr
ail running along the path. As long as Harris stayed on his side of the railing with his long-handled push broom, surely a full-blown clan war could be avoided. “Alfred, I’m going to need you inside to help me go through the supplies. Harris, it was a pleasure meeting you. I’ll be out later to get to know you better.” No way was she going to leave Alfred outside with Harris. Those two old goats needed a chaperone.

  Harris smiled with a polite doff of his hat then returned to whistling his slightly off-pitch tune as he nudged the broom across the sidewalk.

  Alfred grunted with a shake of his head and yanked open the door to the clinic. His mouth puckered into a frowning pout as he held the door for the women to enter.

  Emma stepped through the double doors and immediately had the eerie sensation that she’d stepped back through a tear in time. Her heels clicked on hardwood floors. The weathered boards shone with a velvet finish. The hall was bleached a warm honey color by years of waxing. A lighter yellow path marked the center of the corridor leading to a wider waiting area. Wire-caged incandescent light fixtures dotted the low, whitewashed ceiling. The scattered bulbs cast golden halos across the walls.

  Emma frowned at the dated lighting. Thank goodness, they’d repainted the walls with the glossiest white they could find. At least the shining finish of each spotless wall reflected what little light existed. The end of the building closest to the entrance housed a brightly painted waist-high counter that had to be the admitting desk. A waiting area filled with a rainbow assortment of woven rugs, mismatched chairs, and colorful baskets overflowing with toys covered the farthest corner.

  “Now, we know ’tis nothing fancy but it’s quite clean and will remain so. Ye have our word on that.” Moira edged closer. As she wrung both hands, she peered with a worried glance over the rims of her pearl-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of her twitching nose. Emma swallowed a giggle. Dear sweet Moira resembled a great bespectacled hen preening about her newly feathered nest.