by Nat Burns
Her voice had gentled into a kind of lilt and Nina found herself mesmerized by the sound of it. Realizing Hazy had paused for a long moment, she responded softly.
“And the full moon on the water, glorious sunrises and sunsets, the rhythm of the light from the lighthouse and the slap of the waves as they come ashore.”
Hazy studied her, her gaze appreciative. “You sound almost like a native, Miss Christie.”
Nina smiled. “I’ve visited the islands from time to time when I was growing up. Do you have a large family here?”
Hazy cooled noticeably and Nina could have kicked herself for bringing up what must be a painful subject.
Turning away, Hazy stepped onto one of the boats so she could pull the next one in the row into a straight line. Her voice carried to Nina with the light ocean breeze.
“Lots of brothers, a couple sisters, but there were always a lot of children in our house, even if they weren’t from Mother’s body. Seems every kid around knew where they could find a warm heart and a kind spirit.”
She glanced up at Nina, her eyes sad now, the line of her mouth grim. “My mother was one of those people who actually believed children have something interesting to say. You don’t see that much anymore, now do you?”
“No, no you don’t,” Nina replied hollowly. “And it’s a shame too.”
She looked up and saw that Hazy had paused in the middle of stepping back onto the dock and was eyeing her with distrust. She wondered what she had said to offend her.
Walking past Nina toward the office Hazy muttered, “Come along and we’ll see if we can’t find those blasted regulations for you.”
Meekly Nina followed, shaking her head in puzzlement. With mysterious, private people like Hazy Duncan, she thought, you really needed to crawl inside their head to try and understand them. Anything else was a waste of time.
Inside the office, Hazy pulled open one of the desk drawers and lifted out a handful of brightly-colored brochures.
“There’s this one…” she muttered, leafing through them. “‘Isle of sweet brooks of drinking water - healthy air and soil! Isle of the salty shore and breeze and brine!’”
“Oh, who’s that? Walt Whitman?” Nina asked with interest.
Hazy smiled as she rifled through the brochures. “Yes, it’s quoted on one of these brochures. You know Whitman?”
Looking closely at the material Hazy held, Nina answered absently. “Um hmm. What’s this one about?”
“Summer programs, you’re too late for that one. How about this? It should give you inspiration for your photographs.”
She handed Nina a small soft-cover book filled with vibrant full-color photographs of island wildlife.
“Oh, this is lovely. Surely this costs something. Let me pay you for it.”
Hazy grinned shyly but with a touch of pride thrown in. “Go on and take it. I have lots of copies because the people who produced it finagled me into helping them. They didn’t pay much, so they threw in a box of contributor’s copies.”
Nina saw her with new eyes. What a complex person she was! “Did you take the photos?”
“What? Me?” She pulled back, as if surprised Nina would ask that. “I’m afraid I don’t know which end of the camera to point, if truth be told. I just wrote some of the information, a friend took the photographs.”
Nina loved the way she said “photographs.” She put a certain twist of language on it, a special inflection uniquely hers.
“Well, thank you very much.”
“Welcome.”
Hazy was scowling and muttering as she flipped through the piles of paper, obviously looking for a certain one.
“You’re a short-tempered one, aren’t you?” Nina told her in a teasing manner.
Hazy’s wry look at her was definitely cool, carrying a veiled warning. “I just have little tolerance for foolishness. Ah, here it is. This is the Whitman one.” She pulled out a white folded brochure with an island logo featuring seagulls at the top. “This is a good one, tells all about the little critters that are good to photograph. There’s also information about the spring and neap tides and what to watch out for when you’re hiking about the islands.”
Nina took it from her hand, noticing suddenly how a fine down of sun-whitened blond hair covered the woman’s tanned forearms.
Hazy seemed to notice her interest and quickly drew back the hand. She plucked out several more brochures. “Here, take these too. This one has the times the preserve is open and other regulations we’re supposed to follow.”
Silence fell and Nina began to feel awkwardness between them.
“Well, thank you again. I really appreciate all your help. Even though I’ve been here quite a bit, I still feel like a foreigner sometimes.”
“You are,” Hazy replied bluntly, “unless you’ve got the island blood in you.”
Nina opened her mouth to tell her that she did have the island blood in her but reconsidered. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to let this odd woman know too much about her. She had no idea what Hazy would use for ammunition against her the next time her temper flared. The less she knew the better.
Chapter 10
The combination of Hazy yelling and the cries of the gulls woke Nina very early the next morning. Still half asleep, she pulled herself from an uncomfortable position on the sofa, switched off the viciously hissing television, and crawled into her cold bed to promptly fall asleep again.
Sometime later, loud knocking penetrated her deep sleep. A glance at the clock told her it was almost nine thirty. She was worried. Not many people on the island knew her well enough to casually visit. Perhaps it was bad news.
As the knocking continued, she stumbled from the clinging bedclothes and raced to the door.
It was Hazy. She was standing on the stoop outside, impatient and frowning. “Took you long enough,” she muttered with ill humor.
Nina straightened her spine. “I was sleeping,” she replied indignantly.
Hazy’s eyes roved across her from head to toe, her expression scornful. “Aye, I can see that,” she said quietly.
Nina realized then that she was half-naked, clad only in a thin T-shirt and bikini panties. She probably looked a mess as well, her hair tangled and her face smudged with sleep. Angry because Hazy was seeing her at less than her best, Nina shot words out like bullets, a bit more forceful than necessary. “What do you want anyway?”
Hazy narrowed her eyes and her lips thinned. “Phone for you. In the office.” She turned smoothly and walked away.
Nina felt bad for being so abrupt but decided it was well-deserved payback. Hazy had been short with her plenty of times.
Hurriedly, she pulled on a pair of old jeans and, smoothing her hair, made her way to the office.
“Hi baby,” her father hailed her from across the phone line. “How’s my best girl?”
It was wonderful to hear her father’s voice and unbidden tears sprang up immediately. “Oh Daddy, it’s so good to hear from you. How’s Mom? How are you?”
His warm chuckle was undiminished by distance. “We’re doing okay, honey. I tried your cell but it wasn’t available. How are you managing out there all by yourself? Have you visited Emma yet?”
“No, not yet, but I will soon. I’ve been pretty busy with the house and enjoying the beach. It’s fabulous here.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear you’re having a good time. Is Channel Haven nice?”
Wanting to tell him about Hazy’s eccentricities, she paused, knowing he wouldn’t understand, might construe that she was unhappy. Maybe later they would look back on it and laugh. After she was settled in. “I’m very comfortable here. Right on the channel too, so it’s beautiful,” she offered finally.
“And how’s the house coming? You want me to come out this weekend and have a look?”
“Oh no, it’s fine. Coming along better than expected. Mander, that’s the master carpenter working on it, says...”
She broke off as Hazy walked int
o the office, then continued after she had passed by.
“She says I can probably move in the end of next week. There’s still a lot of painting to do and some plumbing in the upstairs bath. Stuff like that.”
“Mander, what kind of name is that? One of those strange island monikers?” her father asked.
“It’s for Amanda, it’s a woman.”
“A woman carpenter, leading a crew? Who knew the island would be so progressive?” He laughed.
“Who knew my grandfather would be so progressive?” Nina countered with amusement. “He hired her.”
“We sure do miss you being here in town. It’ll be hard getting used to you living way out there, so far from us. Be sure and get new cell phone service. One that works in the wilderness, okay?”
Hazy surprised her by handing her a heavy ceramic mug full of hot coffee. Nina nodded her thanks and watched as Hazy took her own cup outside.
“Come on, Daddy, don’t be silly. You just live in Alexandria, not Asia. You’re not far away at all.”
“True, true,” he chuckled, “just seems that way.”
“Besides,” she continued, “it’ll give you two a good excuse to take a lot of vacation trips to the ocean. Grandpapa’s house still has a lot of rooms so we can all stay right there. Where is Mom, by the way? I need to ask her what color she wants her old room painted.”
“Out taking her walk.” Nina could hear the grin in his voice. “She’ll be mad as a hornet when I tell her I called you while she was out.”
Nina sighed and took another sip of the surprisingly good coffee. Hazy had even added sugar and a generous dollop of cream. “You’ll never change. Why do you two compete the way you do? I know both of you love me.”
“Of course, but that’s not why we do it. She gets to take you shopping; I get to call you. She gets to pack up your apartment; I get to send you a book. Simple really.”
“Right,” she replied with sarcasm. “Hey, did you send me a book?”
Patrick Christie laughed at his daughter’s eagerness. “Yes, honey, that new anthology. Science fiction, of course, the one you’ve been raving about.”
“You are so sweet, thank you.” She hoped he could tell how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness. He often bestowed solicitous gifts on her and she always felt as though she could never express the depth of her gratitude and love for her handsome, doting father.
“You’re welcome, baby. Listen, I’m going to go now, before your mother comes in and catches me red-handed. You call us right away if you have any problems, all right? Promise?”
“Sure, I promise. Everything’s going fine though. I am really glad to be moving here.”
“I know how much you love it there,” he agreed. “That’s why Tom left it to you instead of Freda. He knew you’d build a good life there.”
A sudden thought occurred to her. “Why are you at home this morning? You’re not sick are you?”
“Oh no, please don’t start worrying. I hate it when you worry about me. I’m just going in a little late, leaving for work in just a few minutes.” His confident voice warmed her. “Love you sweetheart. Be good, now.”
“Hey, Daddy.” Her voice broke, but she couldn’t help asking. “Any word from Rhonda?”
Her father’s voice was filled with empathetic pain as he answered. “No, baby, nothing. I’m really sorry…”
“That’s okay, Dad, for the best, really. Tell Mom I love her. You too.”
Although hating to break the connection, she was relieved to know he was leaving for work. Her powerful father hadn’t missed a full day, not counting vacations, from his real estate firm in more than twenty years.
Slowly she replaced the handset and sighed. She did miss them. Even when she’d moved away from home when she was twenty, she had taken an apartment nearby. This was the farthest she’d lived from them and it would be a drastic change, she was sure. But she was a big girl now. It was time she got out on her own.
Chapter 11
Hazy was leaning against the dock railing watching two gulls fight over a large sea worm that one had pulled loose from a hole in the piling. She saw Nina out of the corner of her eye and realized with some surprise that Nina seemed nervous about approaching her; almost didn’t. But she did approach and Hazy sighed.
“Thank you for the coffee. It helped wake me up.”
Hazy turned her attention Nina’s way, her gaze taking in the whole of her. As if self-conscious, Nina crossed her arms over her chest protectively.
“That’s all right, ducks,” Hazy said, squinting to peer into her large green eyes. “Always a waste, that last little bit in the pot. Glad to use it up.”
The tone Hazy had used obviously angered Nina and she stiffened her back. “Right,” she muttered. “I’ll wash the cup and return it before the end of the day,” she said, her tone just as cool. Head held high, she walked back to her cabin.
Hazy watched the rigid sway of her denim-clad hips and felt regret swamp her. Damn, but she liked the little chit. She had a way about her. Tough little sandpiper, didn’t take no guff from anyone and gave as good as she got. She couldn’t help but admire her. It was just a shame she had to like her as well.
She took a gulp of her lukewarm coffee and grimaced at the harsh taste. Why had she told the girl she’d gotten the dregs? It was a lie, to start with, and there was no call to be so rough with her.
Ah, but there was. She dropped her head and hunched her shoulders. She mustn’t forget CC. Miss Claudia Coleman Marsten, CC to her friends, the prized darling of the Chincoteague Marstens. Hazy hadn’t realized the ramifications of that at first, of course, or she’d have steered clear. No use butting one’s head against a brick wall.
They’d been so alike, she reminisced. Both with a streak of fun in them; do most anything for a laugh. Silliness was what brought them together.
So many years ago yet she still saw it with crystal clarity.
Working as a proofreader for the Chincoteague Wagoneer, the small island newspaper, Hazy had thought that journalism might be her field. Fresh out of high school she was an old hand at the job because she’d worked at the paper all through school, gradually advancing from “gofer” to proofreader. Words came easily to her and it was a natural gift to place them on paper in the best way so they could be understood easily. She knew one of the older staff writers was due to retire the following year so Hazy was seriously considering vying for that position. Or the position of whomever, in house, might move up into that slot.
There was a young girl who hung around the office in the evenings, the daughter of one of the owners. She was lovely, small and slim, with blond, silky-shiny hair sleekly cropped off at shoulder length and often pulled back into a short ponytail. Her nose was long, patrician, her mouth small, her white teeth dainty. Her blue eyes were speculative, cool, and could convey unbelievable disdain if she was provoked. Hazy knew; she had watched her for years, fantasizing about the two of them together.
One day, as Hazy was working on the social register, she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She turned and saw the girl reading over her shoulder. She smiled sweetly as Hazy caught her with her eyes. Hazy, cherishing her good fortune, returned the smile.
The girl reached out a slim, perfectly-manicured index finger and touched a word on the copy sheet. It was high up on the page, in a paragraph that had, supposedly, already been proofread and corrected. Hazy lifted an eyebrow and bent to read the word: “boby.” Confused, she went back several words to put it in context.
Mr. and Mrs. Carlton E. Wooby announce the birth of a boby boy. Oliver Everett Wooby was born at 6:25 a.m. Tuesday. Mother and son are both doing well.
How had she missed it?
Before she could pen in the correction squiggle, the girl leaned forward and sketched in another ‘o’ next to the word boby.
“Booby Wooby,” she said, light dancing in her eyes.
Strangely enough, Hazy left it as it was and it came out that evening as bo
oby boy Wooby. That was an unHazy-like thing to do, just as was the passionate relationship that sprang up between the two of them. Fast, furious, and in the end, destructive.
It began to unravel several months later when Hazy’s calls weren’t picked up and were never returned. Worried, she’d gone to the high school during her lunch hour. On the second day of watching she saw them, walking arm in arm toward the gym. He was a handsome boy, right enough, but when they moved into an alcove and the kissing started, Hazy had stalked off, unable to watch.
Hazy blamed herself at first, spending days locked in self-loathing and pity. Then she realized that CC was a certain type of girl. There had been several of them at their high school. They experimented, lived for the moment, took what they wanted, whatever made them feel good for a short time, and then moved on when the excitement paled. Hazy wasn’t stupid, she knew the type and should have had her guard up.
She’d made a solemn vow when CC had dumped her so cruelly. She’d never be hurt that way again.
And she hadn’t, not in almost twenty years. No woman had ever touched her heart. Her conquests had been the wealthy, older tourists or the young, still innocent island girls. The former knew the score; the latter had yet to learn.
She had always been able to mentally criticize each woman, pick her to pieces until there was nothing left to threaten her peace of mind. By that time the relationship was stripped to the bone as well, leaving nothing to nourish it.
Hazy was well aware of this trait in herself and rather enjoyed the irony of it. Who needed a woman trying to edge into her life? She could love them and leave them as easy as anyone. Since CC, she’d never had the desire for anything more than the coolest of relationships.
Until now.
