by Marie Landry
“Later,” he called as I stepped quickly through the door.
It was cool and dark in here compared to outside, and I stood in the front hallway waiting for my eyes to adjust. Upon returning to the kitchen, I discovered Dad was gone, although his laptop and papers were still on the kitchen table.
I glanced at the screen and saw the website for the University of Toronto, where Dad was a professor. He’d finished classes several weeks ago, but always spent a good chunk of the summer writing papers for various journals and doing research for projects and curriculum.
Over the last few months as Mom’s condition worsened, Dad had seemed to embody the spirit of the absentminded professor. His boss told him to take as much time off as he needed, but Dad seemed to prefer to carry on with work.
I couldn’t blame him really. I wished I had something to focus my attention on.
I pulled open the fridge and examined the contents again. I made myself a turkey sandwich and took it upstairs where I booted up my laptop and started to search for book blogs. Within minutes I was immersed, reading reviews and recommendations, and discovering people who loved to read as much as I did.
All the time I was surfing the net, I could hear faint sounds of Ezra working outside. It was so still out that the banging from his hammer seemed to bounce and echo off the surrounding trees and houses. When the noise stopped and the silence stretched past a few minutes, I wondered if he was done for the day.
I glanced at the clock and was surprised to find it was after four. It felt like my days were filled with oddly broken-up chunks of time—sleeping, awake, sleeping, awake. Even though that had been the case through most of Mom’s illness, I’d had a purpose then so it didn’t seem so strange. I kept her company, made sure she took her meds, cooked and cleaned, and worked on my courses for school.
Now I was on edge, unable to shake the sense I was waiting for something. But what? A purpose? Something—or perhaps someone—to help me take my mind off things?
I set my computer on sleep mode and made my way back downstairs. Dad’s things were gone from the kitchen table and he was stretched out on the couch, watching TV. I had a feeling he’d end up spending a lot of time on that couch this summer.
My attention was drawn to the front of the house when I heard a rattling sound. I opened the door, remembering what Ezra said about not using the front porch until he had it fixed. His tools were still spread out on what was left of the porch, but he was nowhere in sight.
Curiosity had me making my way back through the house and out the sliding glass doors onto the back porch. A group of girls sat on the beach several houses down, and I strained to see if Ella was with them, but she didn’t appear to be.
I descended the stairs and stood in the sand, wiggling my bare toes. Another sound drew my attention to the side of the house, where I found Ezra sitting in a big wooden swing facing his house. His head was tilted back as he drained a reusable water bottle, and sweat glistened on his sun-kissed skin.
I decided to slip back to the house before he saw me and thought I was some creepy peeper.
“Weird place for a swing, huh?” he called.
I froze mid-turn. He was still looking in the direction of his house, but after a second he angled toward me and met my gaze.
“I heard your grandfather had it built when your family spent summers here back in the seventies. Your mom, my mom, and Lilah were best friends.” His gaze was so intense it made my skin feel hot and tingly. “I’m really sorry about your mom,” he added quietly.
I wondered how he could sound so sincere when talking to a stranger about another stranger. The way he said it made it seem like he’d known her—like he knew me—and was truly sorry she was gone. “Thank you,” I murmured.
He nodded and turned his attention back to his house. “Anyway,” he said, “I guess they were always together during those summers, the three of them. They practically lived at each other’s houses, so it didn’t seem strange to build the swing here.”
I would have thought it was odd that he was telling me all this except it felt like we shared a connection because our mothers used to be best friends once upon a time. At this point, I’d hold on tight to any sort of connection to my mom, and I got the sense Ezra understood that.
“Most of the people who rented the place other years didn’t bother with it,” he continued. “It was half hidden by tall grass, and covered in creeping vines.” His eyes met mine again. “I cleaned it up when Lilah told me you were coming.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You…”
“Yeah.” He almost looked embarrassed. “I figured you might like it. Even though it’s in a weird spot, it’s quiet and private. Good for…you know, quiet, private things.”
My eyebrows inched up further, and he laughed, shaking his head before dropping it into his hands. “And I just realized how that sounded. I’m not hitting on you.”
“Of course not,” I said lightly.
He tilted his head to look at me. “Maybe we should do the rewind again.”
“Is there a rule for how many times you can start over and introduce yourself?” I asked.
“We could find out.” He patted the seat beside him, and after a moment’s hesitation, I joined him. As soon as I sat down, he kicked the ground and set the swing rocking gently.
We sat in silence, and I closed my eyes, listening to the waves lapping on the sand, and the creak and whine from the old swing. “Thank you.” I opened my eyes to look at him. “For cleaning up the swing.” I was going to say it would have made my mom happy, but I was afraid that would sound ridiculous. “I really appreciate it.”
“It was no problem,” he assured me with a small smile. Now that I was closer to him, I got a good look at his eyes and realized they were more green than blue. I’d never seen eyes that colour before; they were almost hypnotic, the way they changed.
“So…” I said, grasping for a topic. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem kind of young to be doing this sort of work.” I motioned toward the front of the house.
“Eighteen last winter.” He hooked one leg over the other knee and leaned back, still rocking the swing. “Last summer I went to work for the island’s only construction company, kind of as an apprentice. I couldn’t afford to go to school, but I needed training to do something, you know? The owner was friends with my dad, so he gave me a break and took me on, taught me, paid me.”
He shrugged. “I’m kind of known as the jack of all trades on the island. People need something done, they call me. They know I do good work so they hire me when they can.” He didn’t say it in an arrogant way, just matter of fact, like he was confident in his abilities.
“That’s great.”
“It pays the bills anyway. I’d like to go to school eventually once I’ve saved enough. Are you going to school in the fall?”
“Umm, no,” I said, fidgeting on the swing. “I did home schooling for senior year while my mom was sick so I could be with her. I kinda missed the deadline for applications.”
He nodded as if that made perfect sense. “It’s all about juggling priorities, right?” His eyes shifted out of focus slightly, appearing distant before refocusing on my face. “You have time to figure things out.”
“Exactly.” Nobody else understood. Ella thought I was crazy for not going to college right away, but then she couldn’t wait to get away from home and be on her own. The only thing Dad had said about the whole situation was that he was glad I’d spent so much time with Mom, and he hoped to one day see me in the halls at his university. I knew he’d support me no matter what, but we hadn’t talked about what I was going to do come fall.
Not wanting to think too much about it, I cast around for something to say, then settled on Ezra’s comment about work paying the bills. Most eighteen-year-olds I knew didn’t have to worry about stuff like that. “You live on your own?”
He took so long to answer I didn’t think he was going to. “Yeah,” he said finally
. “It’s…just me.” I couldn’t tell by his tone or expression—or lack of expression—if that was a good thing or not.
He went to raise his water bottle to his lips but then must have remembered he’d emptied it a few moments before because he lowered it again, giving it a little shake.
“Want me to refill that?”
He looked over at his house. “If you wouldn’t mind.” He handed me the bottle and stopped the motion of the swing. As I rose and headed around the side of the house, a sudden thought hit me, and I stopped. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” I blurted before I could lose my nerve.
He cocked his head to the side, a small smile flirting around the edges of his mouth.
“I’m not hitting on you,” I said.
His answering grin was quick, and exactly what I’d been hoping for. What I hadn’t expected was for that grin to be so sexy it nearly knocked me back a step.
“I’m a good cook,” I added. It was true; and if Ezra could sound matter-of-fact without coming across arrogant, I could try it too.
“Sure,” he said slowly. “Thanks.”
I nodded and held up the bottle, indicating I’d be right back. Inside, I filled the bottle from the tap, hoping island water was cleaner than our tap water back home. I’d have to see if the local general store carried Brita filters.
Thinking of the general store also made me think of our food supplies. I yanked the fridge door open, not sure what I was expecting. Did I think that more food would have magically appeared while I was in my room on the computer? “Way to go, Charlotte,” I muttered, opening cupboard doors and finding them mostly bare. “Invite a guy to dinner and have nothing but leftover pizza or sandwiches to serve.”
I took Ezra’s water and rejoined him on the swing. He thanked me and set the swing moving again while I contemplated my options. I could take back the invitation to dinner and seem like a crazy person who randomly invited people over without anything to serve. Although I might already seem slightly crazy since technically Ezra was still a stranger and I’d just invited him to join me for a meal.
My second option was to find Dad and tell him we needed more groceries, which I really didn’t want to do. Option number three was to walk down to the store myself and haul stuff back. If Dad forgot that we needed to eat on a daily basis, that might be the option I’d have to take, and since I could only carry a limited amount of stuff, I’d probably end up doing that every couple of days.
“Something wrong?” Ezra asked.
I sighed. “I, um…forgot that I needed to go to the store for groceries.” I cringed, waiting for his reaction.
“You can take my car if you want,” he offered, pointing toward the front of his house where I could just barely see a car parked in the driveway.
“Wow, you’re trusting,” I told him. “How do you know that if I took your car I wouldn’t just keep driving, take the ferry to the mainland, and never turn back?”
Ezra shrugged one shoulder, looking unfazed. “You wouldn’t.” There was that matter-of-fact tone again. I wanted to ask what made him so sure, but then I remembered he might have overheard Ella last night when she basically told the guy on the beach that I was a big, dull dud.
“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” I said instead. “Mostly because I don’t drive.”
“Don’t or can’t?” he asked.
“A little bit of both.”
I waited for him to question my answer, but he didn’t. “Well…” He leaned back in the swing, looking thoughtful. “I have an old bike in the garage that belonged to my mother. You could use that. The road’s gravel but there’s a well-worn path along the shoulder where people walk and bike. It wouldn’t even take ten minutes each way, and there’s a basket on the back of the bike you could put the groceries in. Unless the not driving thing extends to bikes, too.”
I laughed lightly. “It doesn’t.”
“Okay, then. Take the bike, get what you need, and if you want I can take you grocery shopping sometime this week when I’m not working.”
I just stared at him, eyes wide in surprise.
“Too forward?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I’m just…” Not used to people doing things for me anymore, I thought, but I didn’t want to tell him that. “That would be great.”
“I’ll go get the bike.” He stopped the swing and hopped up. “Then I have to get back to work. By the time you’re back, I should be done for the day.”
It took him awhile to find the bike in the garage, and then he had to wipe cobwebs and dust from it and pump air into the deflated tires. By the time he was done, I hoped he wasn’t thinking I was more trouble than I was worth. I also hoped the general store carried more than just basic provisions so I could make a really good meal.
Leaving the bike in the driveway, he motioned for me to wait, then disappeared back inside the garage. A few seconds later, he came back out carrying a pink helmet. “Sorry,” he said when he saw my expression, “but it’s law on the island.”
He settled the helmet on my head and adjusted the chinstraps, his fingers brushing lightly against my neck. It took everything in me to stay still—not only because I was extremely ticklish, but also because I was no longer used to having people, especially boys, this close to me. Between his proximity and the touch of his hands, I was trying really hard not to squirm.
“There,” he announced, clicking the straps into place and surveying his handiwork with a smile that seemed much too amused for my liking.
“Thanks,” I said dryly.
“Don’t mention it.” This time his smile was definitely amused, and I gave him a playful shove. He chuckled, shoving me back lightly in the direction of the bike. “If you’re not back in an hour, I’m coming to look for you.”
“Duly noted.” I released the kickstand and mounted the bike, giving him a little salute as I wheeled down the driveway and onto the road.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ezra was right; it only took about ten minutes to reach Carrington Drive. The beach road had been quiet, and I’d taken my time, enjoying the scenery. I parked my bike in front of the general store and stood there wondering what to do since Ezra hadn’t given me a lock. In Toronto if you left a bike unlocked you’d be lucky if it was still there when you returned.
You’re a long way from Toronto, I reminded myself.
“Just leave it,” a voice called. I turned to see a tall middle-aged man leaning in the doorway of the general store. “Nobody’ll bother it.”
I nodded my thanks and leaned the bike against a tree. I took off the helmet and ran my hands through my hair, which was damp with sweat. Leaving the helmet dangling on the handlebars, I stepped inside the general store.
The man who had been standing in the doorway was now behind the counter, leaning over an open newspaper. “You Charlotte or Gabriella?” he asked without glancing up.
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised he knew who I was. Or at least had a general idea. In a place this small, everybody probably knew each other and kept up with what was going on.
“Charlotte.” When he still didn’t look up, I swept my gaze over the store. It was a lot more than I’d been expecting—there seemed to be a decent grocery section, along with a tiny pharmacy, post office, and a small area that had everything from books to clothes to hygiene products.
The sound of the newspaper rustling drew my attention back to the counter. The man had folded up the paper and was watching me, his expression inscrutable. “I’m Hank Malone. My wife, Lilah, owns the house you’re staying in.”
“Oh,” I said dumbly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He grunted, but his expression softened slightly. “I knew your ma. Used to run around with her group sometimes in the summer.” His expression softened further, and he muttered something that sounded like ‘the summer girls’. He must have been talking about Mom, Lilah, and Ezra’s mom, Izzy.
He cleared his throat roughly and tossed his newspaper under the counte
r. “Was real sorry to hear of her passing,” he said.
I started to thank him, but he spun around and disappeared into a back room. I waited a minute, then decided I’d better get on with my shopping so Ezra wouldn’t have to come looking for me. He’d made it sound like a joke, but I had a feeling if I was gone long enough he really would come searching for me.
When I turned, I almost ran into a woman standing behind me. I murmured an apology and she smiled warmly. “Don’t mind Hank,” she told me quietly. “His bark is worse than his bite. He’s kind of wary of strangers, which doesn’t do him any good in a town that thrives on its tourist industry. He’s a bit gruff, but he’s really an old sweetheart under that surly exterior.” She said all this in a conversational tone, as if she were talking about the weather.
“Good to know,” I said with a small smile, hoping she wasn’t one of those people who liked to strike up long conversations with strangers in the middle of the grocery store.
She gave me a nod and another kind smile, then carried on toward the pharmacy. I grabbed a shopping basket and headed off down the first aisle. When my basket was nearly full, I figured I shouldn’t get anything else or I wouldn’t be able to carry it on the bike. I’d found everything I needed to make fettuccine with homemade alfredo, and garden salad. I’d grabbed a few extra things that I hoped would last the next few days until either Dad or Ezra could bring me back to do a proper shopping.
Hank was at the counter when I made my way up. He rang my purchases through in silence, bagging them as he went. “Probably not the selection you’re used to,” he commented. “If there’s anything you want and don’t see, I can special order it, so long as it’s not something fancy or hard to find.”
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of my lips. “I think you’ll have pretty much everything I need.” He glanced up, looking almost surprised. “Thanks, though. There might be something else I need eventually.”
He nodded and told me my total. I paid him and reached for my bags, but he scooped them up and headed around the corner and out the front door. I hurried after him and found him outside settling the bags carefully into the basket on my bike.
