Not What You Seem

by Lena Maye

  “I’m an old friend,” Benny says. His voice is tight, restrained. And as unfamiliar as his anger was.

  “I’m sorry.” The man’s tone is sharp, decisive. Like there’s no chance he’s going to be convinced otherwise. “His sons have been very clear on this matter. Family only.”

  Family only.

  If I want to see Charles, then I’ll have to talk to Dean first. My stomach twists up into about a thousand knots. My moments with Dean feel so far away from all of this. Ever since the lighthouse, it feels like the past doesn’t really matter anymore.

  In all the time I’ve been working at the bakery, making that olive bread for Ms. Joanna and pulling on that easy-Ella smile, I’ve never felt like I fit the way I do around Dean.

  He makes my smile real.

  I know that I probably can’t hang on to that forever, but I want to hang on to it for as long as possible. Clutch on to him and step away from the past and into the present.

  “Ella.”

  I cut off the lullaby I was humming and look up to see Benny standing in the doorway. I hadn’t really intended to wait for him, but I hadn’t run away either. The hallway extends on either side of us—empty except for us.

  “Why are you here?” Benny asks. He tries out a familiar crinkly smile, but it falls quickly.

  I clasp my hand together. “I-I think the same reason as you.”

  Benny nods and glances out the door. “He can’t have visitors.”

  I’m suddenly very cold. So cold that I might start shivering.

  He steps forward. “I don’t know how to say sorry. I really don’t. Or if I should explain.” He lets out a long breath. “Or if I should just give you space and time. None of that is the right answer. But there’s this weight of regret at what I said to you. What I did—”

  “You scared me,” I whisper.

  He swallows and then blows out a breath. “There’s no excuse for what I did. I just have this need to protect—”

  “Laura, I know.” I shake out my hands. “My mother’s filed pleadings to have her conviction reversed.”

  Benny shakes his head. “She can’t… She what?”

  I don’t repeat it. Saying the words once was difficult enough, and I know that he heard me clearly.

  “You can’t control it.” His expression remains neutral, but I’m pretty sure that he’s covering something much deeper. “You can’t control her.”

  “I don’t want to control her,” I admit. “I just want to be safe.” I wrap my arms around myself. I’m shivering. I’m shivering and scared, and I don’t know if I forgive the man in front of me or not.

  “Oh, Ella.” Benny steps forward and places a tentative hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off.

  I’m not sure who he is anymore. I’m not sure if this half-apology is even the truth.

  I’m missing something.

  I sidestep farther away from him and swallow back my fear. “Why did my mother change her name?”

  He sighs. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” I ask. “Or you don’t want to tell me?”

  His silence answers the question.

  “I want to know, Benny. I deserve to know. She’s my mother.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “She’s a woman who took you to places you never should have been. Made you go through things no child should have to experience. She’s a mother because of blood only. And this whole thing to have her conviction reversed, it’s just a ploy to get you to talk to her. Or maybe she’s just playing. A trick to send you on this spiral for no reason at all.”

  I blink. That never occurred to me. “You think she could be doing all this just so she can talk to me?”

  “I don’t know, Ella. But you’re looking for some kind of logic where none exists.”

  “Maybe.” I glance toward the glass doors. If he’s right, then all of this is for nothing. Dragging up memories, writing a letter.

  “Are we going to be okay?” He reaches out a hand again, patting my shoulder, but I shrug away from him.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Not yet.”

  I slip around the corner, my heart beating unevenly. The darkness inside Benny scares me. Just like my darkness scares me. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my back into white siding. Maybe everyone has darkness—tucked somewhere deep inside. Clawing its way up in the most unexpected moments. No one is really who they seem.

  I let a lullaby curl up my throat, trying to release myself from darker thoughts. It’s a spring day. Blooms and birds and gray clouds to the west, but still a blue sky above.

  “You look like you could use a cookie.”

  I turn to see a woman on a motorized scooter—she must be one of the facility’s residents. She’s sitting in a small fenced-off area with a handful of empty chairs around her.

  She points to a plate on a table. “If you don’t mind taking a cookie from a stranger.”

  I open my mouth and close it again.

  “Come on, dear, I don’t bite.” She sets the plate on her lap and scooters over to the fence. “My grandson made them. Eli’s seven. And there’s something wrong with them, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

  I push off the wall and walk over to her, taking a cookie she extends through the fence. I take a bite and make a face. Gummy and flat. “Too many eggs.”

  The woman leans forward. “Ah, see, I never would have thought of that. You must bake.”

  I smile. “Sometimes.”

  “They’re really quite strange, aren’t they?” She picks one up and takes a small bite. “The things we do for children. I’m Deanne.” She takes another bite. “You don’t have to finish the cookie. I just saw you there, and it looked like you could use a bit of conversation. What’s your name, dear?”

  “Ella.” It feels rude not to reply. Although I’m not sure what to do with the cookie.

  “Oh, Mira Jacobs’ daughter. Yes, you work in the bakery, don’t you? No wonder you know about the cookies.”

  Like always, I tense at my mother’s name. “Did you know my mother?”

  She shakes her head slowly. “No, dear. I’ve only heard of her. There were so many stories in the paper when she was arrested.” She gives me a sad smile. “It’s hard to escape history in a town the size of Portage.”

  They all know who I am. Every single person in Portage. How long before Dean finds out?

  27

  Dean

  “I should probably tell you something.” Sebastian’s sitting on the gunwale, drinking the last of his coffee and eating his third croissant of the morning. Or the early afternoon. We’d all been happy with the late start—even Matty looks relaxed, basking in the sun and panting happily. It’s been good to have the charter booked, but it’s also been long days for the last week and a half.

  And no time with Ella. Except for the texts, we’ve both been mired in our jobs. Me with the trips out. And Ella with getting everything set for the festival.

  Sailing today with just Ella, her sister and some of Sebastian’s friends sounds like a perfect fucking day. I’ve been waiting for a day like this—where we can open the Heroine up and just let her sail. Charter runs are all about going places or doing specific things. It’s like everyone forgets the real magic isn’t in the destination, but in the journey. Full sails and nothing but water on the horizon.

  So, I can’t for the life of me figure out why Sebastian has that dark look. I take a seat next to him. “What’s up?”

  “Jean—the girl coming today—she’s Sloane’s sister.”

  “Sloane, the woman you’re interested in?”

  He nods and stuffs the rest of the croissant into his mouth.

  “Okay.” I study him—that dark look on his face, sharp cleft on his chin. He’s as uneasy as I’ve ever seen him. “Why is that a big deal?”

  He chews and swallows. “You haven’t met Jean.”

  I stare at him for a really, really long moment. This is a side of my brother I haven’t seen. One I never
thought I would. “You’re intimidated by her?”

  He laughs. “You haven’t met Jean Lo.”

  Jean is tiny. Not that tiny women can’t be intimidating, but it’s the first thing I notice about her. Tiny and, after stepping out of a shiny gray Jeep, she darts for my brother. He meets her on the ramp and scoops her up into a hug. When he sets her down, she whacks him on the arm.

  “Why the fuck haven’t you called my sister?” Her hands settle on her hips, her chin tipping up to look at him, making her black hair tumble down her back. She’s pretty. I wonder if she and Sloane look alike. I picture what Sloane must look like—police uniform instead of Jean’s sweater and cut-offs. But maybe the same chin tilt and direct gaze. I can almost picture her. And why Sebastian is so caught by her.

  I cross the deck, interested in how he’s going to answer Jean’s question. He’s been tight-lipped about the whole thing. Another clue that his thoughts about Sloane are heavier than normal. Sebastian isn’t a bragger like Dev, but he’s been known to share a detail or two in the past. His sullen not-talking has me curious.

  “Do you have some kind of cell-phone deficiency?” Jean continues while Sebastian grins at her. “Traumatic accident? Memory loss? What’s your excuse for being a dick?”

  Sebastian shakes his head. “It’s good to see you too, Jean. And I did call her. She didn’t call me back.”

  I raise an eyebrow at this. Sebastian hadn’t mentioned it.

  Jean glares at my brother. “I’m not sure if I believe you.” She nods toward me, but keeps staring at Sebastian. “Do you believe him?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I tilt my head, watching as she considers this. Behind her, a guy strolls down the ramp. I think he’s with Jean, but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. He stops on the dock, his gaze on the Heroine’s rigging, and shoves his hands into his jeans. Gray t-shirt, gray eyes, gray Jeep. Everything about him is gray. Or maybe that’s my colorblindness playing tricks.

  Jean sighs at Sebastian and then looks at me. Her eyes widen. “Oh, holy look-a-likes. Fuck, Sebastian, you should have warned me.”

  He laughs, that darkness from earlier lightening a few shades. “I told you I had a twin.”

  “You said twin. Not twin.” She sticks out a hand toward me. “I’m Jean. And you’re the pretty one.”

  Both my eyebrows go up as I shake her hand. “Is that so? I wasn’t aware.”

  “Other than that little scar on your jaw.” Her eyes narrow as she glances back and forth a few times. “You’re still the pretty one. Damn, Sloane should see this.” She fishes in her pocket and pulls out a phone, but as she points it at us, the guy from the dock is suddenly there. He swoops her up, throwing her over his shoulder, her head dangling behind his back. She shrieks and hits him with her phone.

  “Kepler, put me down!” She wiggles on his shoulder.

  “No.” He holds out a hand to me, his other tucked around her knees. Serious gray eyes focus on me while she wiggles. “I’m Kepler. And this boat is a work of art. You’ll explain to me how the force and lift works on each sail?”

  “Sure.” I shrug, my lips turning up. Something tells me that it’s going to be an interesting sailing day.

  “Thanks.” He shakes hands with my brother and then drops Jean back on the deck before saying something in a low tone. And just when I think she’s going to snap at him, she smiles. Like full-on smiles—warm, wide. Then she pushes up to her toes and kisses him.

  I turn to Sebastian. “You called Sloane?”

  “A few times, maybe.” He tilts his head away from me. “Is Ella coming?”

  “Hope so. Renee too.”

  Okay, now Jean and Kepler are deep into a kiss that makes both Sebastian and me turn around to face port.

  But I forget about them entirely because Ella’s walking down the Harborwalk. Sexy in those low-rise jeans. She’s wearing a bluish sweater that hangs off her shoulder to reveal the white strap of something—bra? Tank top? Either way, it sets my imagination singing. She’s balancing a Laura’s Bakery box in front of her.

  I can’t express how happy it makes me that she’s walking toward me instead of running away. Like another step forward. Maybe the next will be her feeling comfortable enough to tell me about her mother. If I can just get her to start trusting me.

  “Ella’s here,” Sebastian announces as if I haven’t noticed. Then he hits me on the shoulder. “And looks like she’s got some cock cakes.”

  I wince. “Shouldn’t have told you about that.”

  Ella’s distracted. I realize it as soon as I try to take the cupcakes from her. She holds on to the box, a little line developing between her eyebrows. I haven’t seen that line before. And I immediately want to do whatever it takes to erase it.

  I tug lightly on the box when she doesn’t release it. “Unwilling to give them up? I’d feel exactly the same.”

  “Oh.” She lets me take it from her. “An assortment. I know Dev likes the bacon ones.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

  “Because he stopped in the bakery the other day and cleaned us out.”

  “I’m surprised,” I say. “It’s a threat to his precious figure.”

  She glances toward the Heroine, where Dev is talking loudly to Jean. They seem to be in some sort of debate. Of course, Dev’s already got his shirt off.

  “Well, he did ask about Renee,” she says.

  Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. “He’s intent on figuring out why he’s a rolling pin.”

  “That’s exactly why he’s a rolling pin. Because he can’t let it go.” She pulls up the shoulder of her sweater, but it slips down just as quickly, and I try not to stare. Bra? Tank top? Swimsuit? These are questions I can’t ignore.

  I lean in toward her, dropping my voice into a tease. “How is a rolling pin different from a spork?”

  Her mouth falls open a little, her eyes focusing on me for the first time since she’s arrived. “You heard about that?”

  “Just a little.” I hold up the box. “You should make these for the festival. I mean, not just the bacon. The pumpkin and the sweet ones too. All of them. Cupcakes and kites.”

  She bites her lip. “I don’t know. I’m not sure that I have…”

  “What? You know they’re good, right?”

  A small smile curls her lips, confidence sliding through. Sexy-as-hell confidence. And it doesn’t hurt that the shoulder of her sweater keeps slipping lower.

  “I know they’re good,” she says. “But that would be a lot of cupcakes.”

  “So it’s a manpower issue?” I tap my fingers on the underside of the box. “What if you had three men at your beck and call?”

  Did she just redden a little?

  “Are you sure they’d agree to do that?” She glances toward the boat. “It would be really early in the morning. And it’s lots of careful work. And—”

  “I’m certain.” I cut her off because I want her to know just how deeply certain I am. When she gives me a full smile, I feel like I’ve just been awarded a medal.

  She’s trusting me. It’s just one small thing, but she’s trusting me. Which makes me want more. Maybe that’s why I want her on the boat so much too. It’s another form of trust.

  28

  Ella

  As soon as I step aboard, Dean puts me at ease. And to work. Instead of having me sit on the sidelines and do nothing, he takes me through checking all the standing rigging. Matty hobbles around us while he tells me the name for everything, but mostly I just do what he says, trying to concentrate on his instructions instead of the way he leans close to show me what he’s talking about. He seems lighter today. The blue of his eyes bluer. The ends of his hair more sun tipped. That fluid ease surrounds me as he lingers over my shoulder while I make sure the ropes he points to are separated and organized. My attention is so focused on him and the ropes that I don’t notice Dev is standing behind us until he chuckles.

  “Be careful you don’t catch it, Ella.” H
e grins widely and gestures at the ropes with a half-eaten cupcake. Even with the cupcake, there’s something so imposing and massive about him. It’s hard to believe he doesn’t see the reason for the rolling-pin comparison.

  “Catch what?” I return my attention to the rope—halyard—worried I’ll mess up.

  “Perfectionism. It’s a dirty, dirty disease.”

  “Better than negligence.” Dean shoots over his shoulder.

  Dev touches his chest. “Me? Negligent?”

  Dean shakes his head, that uneven grin pulling up his face. “What’s she doing?” He nods behind Dev to where Renee manages an impressive number of ropes.

  Renee set to work just a few minutes after arriving, shrugging out of her sweater and down to a pink bikini top while she works, not seeming to mind the chill breeze. The sun is high overhead and warming up what had been a cooler day, but it’s not exactly balmy. She follows the ropes with her eyes and seems to know what to do with them—some of them finding a neat coil on the deck and others running through winches. She digs some tape out of her pocket and tears off a piece with her teeth.

  Dev finishes off the cupcake. “She’s doing my job, apparently.”

  “Dev,” Dean says sharply.

  “She’s just taping. Anyone can do that.” He waves a hand as he turns around. “I’ll go double-check everything.” Dev takes a few long strides across the deck and reaches Renee, who doesn’t smile when she looks up at him. Although not smiling seems to require effort because she purses her lips. Something I never see her do.

  Dean stares after Dev for a moment. When he turns back, he raises an eyebrow. “Your sister knows how to sail.”

  “She’s been taking lessons,” I say. “It’s the whole reason she works at Salt’s. Oh, wait…” I wince. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Can you keep that between us?”

  “Of course.” The edge of his lip ticks up. “I’ll endeavor to be worthy of your trust.”

  I blink. “Well, I’m not sure I needed that level of commitment. But, um, thanks.”