by Luanne Rice
“Get down off that ladder and talk to me,” John said. “You're scared of something, Caleb.”
“No, I swear . . .”
“You look guilty, and you sound guilty, and I want to know why,” John said, shaking the ladder so hard, he thought Caleb might tumble off. If he didn't, John was ready to climb right up and get him.
One foot on the second rung, John was on his way.
chapter 24
Kate and Teddy sat on the floor of Maggie's room, brushing the dogs. What else was there to do, waiting for someone—everyone—to get home? Teddy took handfuls of soft, white hair off Brainer's undercoat, while Kate had a hard time keeping Bonnie from rolling on her back, begging to have her tummy tickled.
Just then the front door slammed.
“I'm hooommme!” came Maggie's voice.
“Maggie!” Teddy bellowed.
“Coming!”
The dogs jumped up at the ruckus, and Maggie came pounding up the stairs. Both Teddy and Kate scrambled to their feet, rushing to the bedroom door.
“Where were you, young lady?” the Judge called after her from his study. “We were just about to call out the National Guard!”
Maggie burst into her own room—red-cheeked, white scarf trailing, holding a huge tangled bouquet of dried flowers and beach grass, but at the sight of Kate she dropped it and ran into her arms.
“You're right here!” she cried out, squeezing Kate. “Not just in Silver Bay, but here, in our house!”
“I'm so glad to see you,” Kate said, hugging her hard.
“I got your note, and I wanted to pick a Thanksgiving bouquet, and I rode over to the lighthouse on my bike, and the whole time I was thinking ‘Kate's here, Kate's here . . .' Are you going to have Thanksgiving dinner with us?”
“Oh,” Kate said, smiling. “I don't know about that . . .”
“Maggie, do you know how worried we were?” Teddy asked. “You were supposed to meet me after school.”
“I know, Teddy, but I got home, and you weren't here, and I got Kate's note and decided—”
“Dad's out looking for you!”
“He is? He's never usually even home by now,” she said, looking shocked and a little afraid.
“Well, he was today.”
“Sorry,” Maggie said, gazing up at her brother. “Can we call him on his cell phone and tell him I'm home?”
“Yes,” Teddy said, smiling with affectionate exasperation. “That's a very good idea.”
“I'm just thinking of her,” Caleb said, watching John come up the ladder at him. “With that last girl in the breakwater, no wonder you're worried. Watch out, Mr. O'Rourke—I'm coming down. Okay?”
“Let him down,” Barkley said, grabbing John's shoulder.
“He's acting scared of something,” John said through clenched teeth. “And I can't find Maggie . . .”
“That's not my fault,” Caleb said, climbing down. John grabbed his shoulder, and Caleb's eyes flashed white, as if he feared John might lose control. He was in his early twenties, but he didn't look like a kid anymore: He had lines around his eyes from working outside, and his hairline was just starting to recede. But his body was rock hard—John could feel the muscles under his shirt, and he held on even harder.
“Did you know that girl at Point Heron, Caleb?”
It wasn't his imagination: Caleb's face turned bright red, and he looked up at the ceiling, away from John.
“Answer him, Caleb,” Barkley said. “Set his mind at ease.”
“Only from the papers,” Caleb said. “She looked really pretty. I felt bad about what happened to her.”
“Now, what the hell does it have to do with us?” Barkley asked. “What brings you over here like this so—your little girl not being home yet? We'll knock off work right now and help you look for her.”
John's phone was ringing; he could feel it vibrating in his pants pocket. Hunt heard it too; his eyes flicked downward. Looking away from Barkley and Caleb, John flipped open his cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Dad—she's home,” Teddy said.
“She is?” John asked, his eyes locking with Caleb's. He saw the relief and vindication there—as if he knew he was off the hook—as he straightened himself out, shook his shoulder where John had been gripping him.
“Yeah. She was just out picking flowers. Believe it or not . . .”
“Right, I believe it,” John said, swallowing, sensing three pairs of Jenkins eyes on him.
“See you later, okay, Dad?”
“Okay, Teddy.”
When John hung up, he saw Barkley watching him. He took a deep breath. Until two years ago, he would have said Barkley Jenkins was one of the best friends he had.
“Your daughter okay?” Hunt asked now, from across the floor.
“Yeah. She made it home safe.”
“That's good. I'm glad.”
“We all are,” Barkley said. “We're all very glad about that. Look, John—we know it's been rough.”
“Don't, Bark,” John said, his voice shaking.
“I've never told you how sorry—”
John felt his words like a punch in the stomach. Nothing Barkley could ever say would explain his wife's betrayal, how she could have gone behind his back, put their whole family in jeopardy.
All he needed was to start down the road of Theresa, and he'd really lose it. He thought of Kate, hoped she was still at the house now that Maggie was safe. He remembered the way she'd felt in his arms, the whisper of her breath on his neck, their time by the west-running brook. And he wished more than anything that she wouldn't leave before he got home.
“Glad she's home, Mr. O'Rourke,” Caleb said, and he laughed with clear relief. “You were really coming after me.”
John glanced over at him. “You seemed guilty about something, Caleb,” he said.
“No, not me. And nothing about your daughter,” Caleb said, sounding uneasy again. “I was just talking about your house. That's what I thought you meant.”
“My house?”
“The brick—you know,” Caleb said, staring down at John.
John looked around; this was a construction site. Why wouldn't there be bricks somewhere on Jenkins property? His heart began to pound harder, remembering his children's cries of fear.
“Are you telling me you threw the brick?” John asked, the question exploding out of him.
“Hold it right there,” came Barkley's voice, and John felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around.
Maggie sat on the edge of her bed, unable to stop smiling at Kate. Her blue eyes were bright, as if she couldn't believe Kate was really here. Kate felt the same way, seeing her. She couldn't wait for John to return, so he could see his daughter with his own eyes.
“Your brother and dad were pretty worried about you,” she said.
“I'm sorry,” Maggie said, her smile faltering slightly.
“Dad's not letting you out of his sight again till they catch the copycat guy,” Teddy said. “You'd better face it.”
“I had my scout knife!” Maggie said, drawing the red sheath from her pocket, handing it to Kate—as if wanting Kate to pronounce it adequate protection, congratulate her for carrying it.
“You shouldn't have gone,” Teddy said kindly.
“I need freedom,” Maggie said. “And I can't stand staying at Gramps's any longer. We have to go home—we have to! Kate . . .”
“Yes?” Kate asked, still holding the pocketknife, smiling at how shiny Maggie's eyes had just become, suspecting she knew what was coming next.
“Stay with us! Whyever you're here, for whatever reason you've come back . . . be our baby-sitter!”
“Yeah,” Teddy said, nodding and walking closer. “That's a good idea.”
“I wouldn't make a very good baby-sitter,” Kate said.
“Why not? You were a good one with your sister,” Teddy said. “You practically raised her, went to her swim meets . . .”
“That was different,�
�� Kate said, his words and their eagerness tugging her heart. If only she could. If only it were that simple; she'd just move in with this family she was growing to love, take them all under her wing, and everyone could be happy.
“Because she's your family?” Maggie asked.
“Well, partly.”
“Why else?” Teddy asked.
“Well, I'm a marine biologist,” she said. “I have a job already. Down in Washington.”
“That's really cool,” Teddy conceded. “I knew that . . .”
“Yes,” Kate said. “You sent me that letter.”
“I want to go to law school in Washington, like Dad,” Teddy said.
“I'm going to be a pilot when I grow up,” Maggie said. She touched the white scarf around her neck, as if to make sure Kate had noticed her wearing it.
Kate smiled, touching the fringe.
“Amelia.” Maggie grinned.
“You'd make her proud . . .”
“You gave me the scarf; I want to give you my knife. Keep it—at least for a while. In return for the scarf . . .”
Not wanting to hurt Maggie's feelings, Kate smiled and put the red knife into her jeans pocket.
“I'm going to become an aviatrix when I grow up. And fly solo around the world!”
“A noble goal,” Kate smiled, thinking of the picture Willa had painted of her at the controls of her plane.
“In fact, I got a sign,” Maggie confided breathlessly. “Something I thought you might have dropped on a walk with Bonnie. Want to see?”
“Sure,” Kate said, watching Maggie reach into her back pocket. Her heart was filled with a sense of peace: Maggie was home safe, Teddy was calm again, John would be back soon . . .
“Here it is,” Maggie said, her face glowing, pulling something from her pocket.
Kate smiled, looking down at the little girl's loose fist.
Her fingers opened, and Kate found herself staring at a tiny gold airplane with wings and a propeller that really turned.
“Oh,” Kate cried, grabbing the charm, which still bore traces of white dust. “Where did you get this?”
“On the bluff,” Maggie said, gaping at Kate's agitation. “Near the lighthouse . . . the clamshell road. Why, what's wrong?”
“It was Willa's,” Kate said, her eyes filling with tears. “I gave it to my sister.”
chapter 25
Kate didn't have a car with her. She had left hers at the East Wind Inn. Perhaps she could have waited for John. Or she could have borrowed Maggie's bike. But the little gold airplane charm was like a talisman burning a hole in her hand, forcing her to move now.
“Judge O'Rourke,” she said, walking downstairs with the children right behind her.
“Yes, Kate?” he asked, looking up from the book he was reading to Maeve. They sat in a small study, fire crackling on the hearth as wind roared down the chimney. She lay on a sofa, under a plaid blanket, and he sat upright beside her, Two Under the Indian Sun open on his lap. They both smiled up at Kate.
“Judge O'Rourke,” Kate repeated, tears pressing against her throat and eyes. She was so independent; she didn't like to ask for favors. But she held Willa's charm in her hand; it was covered with familiar white dust, and she knew where she had to go.
“What is it, dear?” he asked, frowning.
“She has a mission,” Maeve said quietly, watching Kate's eyes.
“I do,” Kate said, her voice cracking. “May I . . . I know you don't know me, but I have to ask . . . may I borrow your car?”
The Judge hesitated, listening to the storm rattle the windowpanes. But just then Maeve struggled upright to take his wrist, look him lovingly in the eye. “Kate and her sister were like Brigid and me,” Maeve said gently, watching Kate with such sad eyes that Kate felt the tug of being understood by another woman who had lost her sister. “Let her use your car, Judge.”
“It's raging out there,” the Judge said. “And she's right. I don't know her . . .”
“Aye, but I do,” Maeve said, nodding at Kate. “I know her.”
“How?” the Judge asked.
“In the ways that are important,” Maeve whispered. “Do you know what it's like to have a sister? To share the same parents, the same home, the same life . . .”
The Judge sighed, and Kate recognized the tremble of love and emotion that went through his body. He stared at Maeve, at the way tears formed in her eyes as her lips started to move, and Kate could feel him making up his mind.
Kate clenched her fists. Maggie had given her something to hold onto, the first real, solid clue she'd had about Willa since coming to Silver Bay.
“All right, then,” the Judge said, staring into Maeve's watery old eyes. “It's the old Lincoln, in the garage out back. You have to pump the gas pedal a few times to get it started.”
“Gramps, you're letting her take your car?” Teddy asked.
“It's his baby,” Maggie said.
“Maeve asked me to,” the Judge said solemnly.
“Thank you for that,” Kate said.
“Well, I'm going with you,” Teddy said.
“Me, too,” Maggie said.
“And your father would have my head,” the Judge said. “You two go, and all bets are off.”
“Please stay,” Kate said, turning to the kids, trying to smile at them. “You've done more for me than you can imagine . . . I want to go to where you found the charm, Maggie, and feel my sister. Do you know how long I've wondered? I've been here searching, and you've given me a place to . . . look for her. Maybe one last place.” Or maybe just a place to say good-bye, Kate thought. Either way . . . “Willa was there . . . this charm tells me for sure.”
“I can show you exactly,” Maggie pleaded. “And it's scary there, by yourself.”
“You shouldn't go alone,” Teddy said sternly, hiding fear in his wide eyes. “Take us and Brainer with you.”
But Kate shook her head. The charm was exerting a powerful, sorrowful magic on her, and she knew she had to do this by herself. Now that Kate had met the O'Rourkes, had started to feel the way she felt about John, she knew she couldn't go on unless she made peace with the past; with the betrayal she'd experienced at the hands of the person she loved most, with her own rage at her baby, her sister. What if Willa had left more traces behind? Kate had to find out.
The storm had brought it on: Even before she had become a scientist, Kate had learned that strong wind and waves could stir up the atmosphere, change conditions so completely that even human chemistry was affected. Full moons, sunspots, hurricanes, blizzards, and even good old northeasters could shake up the ions and make the world a whole new place.
Kate and Willa were storm children. Born and raised on a barrier island, a finger of sand standing strong against the powerful Atlantic, they had always loved storms. They'd rush across the dunes, day or night, and stand watching the waves batter the beach.
Tonight was the night. Kate felt grief building in her chest. Whatever had happened—whatever Willa had done, wherever she had gone—tonight Kate was going to learn everything she could.
Kate already knew that Willa would love the lighthouse. Perhaps she had walked out there, just as Kate had today. Maybe she'd been with Bonnie, stopping to notice the west-running brook. Kate felt a sob in her chest. The gold charm was so much more than a postcard, Willa's name on an inn register. This was something precious that had always symbolized the love between them, that Willa had worn against her skin.
Saying good-bye to the Judge and Maeve, Maggie and Teddy, telling them she'd be back soon, Kate bundled into her green wool coat and soft white beret. Then, head down against the growing wind, her heart filled with sorrow and a strange sort of hope for the future, she ran outside to start up the old Lincoln in the garage out back.
John and Barkley faced off. Here in the big barn, the great inn annex, John could feel the tension crackle between them. Maggie was safe, but they had some other unfinished business.
“Rough times, John,”
Barkley said. “I know you've been through a lot.”
“Not for you to worry about—and besides the point right now. Did Caleb throw that brick through our window?”
“Now, relax. We all know about your big case, about you defending Greg Merrill. I got redneck kids working on my construction crew . . . they talk some shit about you trying to get a serial killer off death row. We know about the brick through your window because we know the plate-glass guy who fixed it—that's all.”
“Caleb knows more than that,” John said.
Barkley put his hands up. “He does not. Don't go making accusations you can't back up, John. I'm just telling you, for your own good—you're not very popular around town these days.”
“It was a criminal act,” John said harshly. “Whoever did it could have hurt my kids.”
“Tell him, Dad,” Caleb said.
“Shut up,” Barkley said, his tone sharp.
“Okay,” Caleb said, climbing down from the ladder. “Then I will! He deserves to know, Dad. He helped me win my case!”
“Don't shoot your mouth off about something you're not sure of.”
“I'm sure,” Caleb said. He stepped closer to John, his eyes nervous but friendly. He was a big puppy dog of a kid, who'd gotten in with a wrong crowd and done some stupid things that had led to trouble with the law. John's friendship with his father had changed with the betrayal, but John knew he would be wrong to hold Barkley's sins against the boy.
“Tell me, Caleb.”
“I will, Mr. O'Rourke. It was Timmy Bean. He's a redneck.”
“Caleb—Timmy's one of my best workers, and just because he opens his mouth doesn't mean he—”
“He threw it, Dad. I heard him say so.”
“Kids brag,” Barkley scowled. “About stuff they know nothing about.”
“Thanks for telling me, Caleb,” John said. “You did the right thing.”
Caleb nodded, looking worriedly at his father, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He looked nervous, as if he feared what his father would say or do to him after John left.
“Merrill has the right to a lawyer, just like everyone else,” John said.
