“What’s the matter Wiley, too feminine for your tastes?” teased Reagan. Wiley looked at her and gave his tail a tentative wag, then turned and led the way down the hall. He nosed his way into a room at the front of the house. When Reagan laid her eyes on the room, she knew it was the one she was going to pick.
The creamy white woodwork gleamed in a sharp contrast to the cornflower blue walls. A white four poster bed complete with a canopy was the main focal point. A small set of gleaming steps sat next to the bed to assist the occupant because the mattress was unusually high. A dresser and a highboy were along one wall, and a delicate writing desk was pushed up to a window so the writer could look out and gaze upon the ocean. The polished wooden floor was partially covered with a needlepoint woolen rug, predominately cornflower blue with touches of yellow and cream. An upholstered rocking chair sat in the corner, also canted so that the rocker had a majestic view of the ocean. Wiley sniffed around the room and then sat in front of Reagan, offering his paw as if to say that this was the right choice for her. Indeed, it was.
“This is it,” said Reagan, delighted at the beauty and the view of the room. “I wonder why Aunt Willow doesn’t use this beautiful room. It must have the best view in the entire house.”
“It’s a lovely room. It’s the one I would choose if I was going to spend a summer here. Wiley seems to like it.” Now, Wiley was stretched out on his side in a patch of sunshine, his tail thumping slowly at the mention of his name.
Reagan brought her suitcases into the room and began unpacking. At first, she was hesitant to put her clothes in the dressers, thinking the room hadn’t been used in some time, but she discovered the place was spotless. Not a speck of dust had settled anywhere. Finding a set of blue and yellow flowered sheets, Reagan quickly made up the bed with the help of her mom.
“Where are you going to stay tonight? You are staying tonight, right?”
“Yes, I’m going to stay the night, but we need to leave early in the morning to get me to the airport on time. You still want to drive me so you can have the car, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll die if I don’t have a way to go places. Thanks, Mom. Now let’s get you settled for the night. Which room do you want?”
“Your dad’s, the navy-blue room. I just know that your father spent time in there. I can feel it.”
Reagan helped her mom make up her bed, and then they both went down the stairs, not too sure what to do next. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Wiley ran ahead to the kitchen, wiggling his butt happily. They followed him to discover that Aunt Willow was sitting at the table in the big country kitchen drinking a can of Pepsi. She gestured to the refrigerator and said, “Help yourself.” Reagan gratefully raided the fridge, grabbing a Pepsi for herself. Her mother shook her head no and asked Willow where she could find a glass to have some water.
“We only have tap water. It’s cold spring water from the deep well. You will find it is sweet and refreshing. The glasses are in the cupboard, right of the sink.” She didn’t make a move to play hostess and help. Reagan liked that about her. It made her feel more at home. Willow interrupted that thought, uncannily referring to it. “You’ll find that I am not the greatest hostess. I figure you’re a big girl who wears big girl pants. You can take care of yourself and find your way. I won’t wait on you, nor do I expect you to wait on me. I have to warn you, I keep strange hours. When I feel creative, I may work all day and all night. You may not see me. You’ll be left to your own devices. If you’re both okay with that, this will work out. If not, we may all be miserable.”
Becky looked startled, her mouth dropping open, but Reagan laughed. She was thinking that this actually might be okay.
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I can cook and do my own laundry. Mom is leaving me the car, so I can go when I need to. I will be happy to help you with whatever you need, but I certainly have no trouble leaving you alone.”
Becky stared at the two of them. Willow and Reagan were looking at each other rather defiantly, yet with admiration.
“Great,” said Becky, “you are both stubborn and independent. This will either work out well, or I will come back and find that you’ve killed each other!”
“It’s not me you have to worry about,” Willow said cryptically. Becky thought Willow was referring to Reagan, but Reagan felt a stir of fear in her gut. Willow held Reagan’s eyes with her gaze, “Remember, stay off of the fourth floor.” Reagan’s gut tightened, butterflies started to flutter.
“Reagan isn’t the type to break rules. Don’t worry. She understands that you have some areas that are off limits, that might have fallen into disrepair, although I have to say, this house is beautifully kept. Did you restore it yourself?” asked Becky.
“There was nothing to restore. The house has been the same since my great-great-great-grandparents built it, other than the fact that the exterior needs a new coat of paint. The coastal weather is hard on the place, but the house is resilient. Okay, I need to go back to my studio. I figured we would order some pizza for dinner if that is okay with you. If you want, you can run into town and pick it up. That way Reagan can get a lay of the land, and I can get some work done. When you get hungry, head down the road and turn right on Starling Road. Take that straight into town. Antonio’s Pizza is on the corner of the square. The library is on the square, too. I expect you will want to get some books to read. It’ll be a long summer.”
With that, Willow tossed the empty can into the recycling bin and headed out the kitchen door, leaving Reagan and her mom staring at each other, flabbergasted.
Chapter 4
After the kitchen encounter with Aunt Willow, Reagan retreated upstairs to grab her purse so she and her mom could drive to town. While in her bedroom, she decided she wanted the ocean breeze to invade her room. She slid the old, heavy windows open allowing the wind to blow the curtains inward. Peering out the window, she could see a path that led to the edge of the cliff. It looked as if it descended to the rocks and the ocean below. After she dropped off her mom in the morning, she was going to explore that path.
Reagan turned and started to walk out of the room. The corner of her eye caught a movement, and she turned, startled, but she only saw her own reflection in the old mirror. The curtains stirred in the breeze. That must be what I saw, thought Reagan as she headed out the door.
Reagan followed Willow’s directions to town, driving down Starling Road while her mother rested in the passenger seat. Reagan rolled down the window letting the salty sea air blow her long brown hair and breathed deeply. She liked the tangy ocean scent. It felt so much different here than the sticky, humid Ohio summer she was used to. She knew it would still get hot here in Maine, but the ocean breeze was really pleasant.
They found the town square and the library without any difficulty. Reagan applied for a library card and checked out several books. When she filled out her address, the librarian looked at her steadily for a few seconds. Reagan mentioned that she was staying with her Aunt Willow for the summer, and the librarian seemed satisfied, but she shook her head and tsked a couple of times. Reagan looked at her, confused, and Becky spoke up.
“Is there a problem?”
“No, of course not,” the librarian replied. “Willow James just doesn’t seem the type to tolerate having a teenager around.” Becky raised an eyebrow at the comment. “She’s very nice,” the librarian added, hastily. “She’s lived alone for so long, it’s hard to imagine…” her voice drifted off. “Well, here you go,” she said as she handed over the stack of books. “Remember, these are due in two weeks.” She was brisk and efficient, dismissing the two of them as she turned to gather a stack of returned items.
Reagan and her mom looked at each other, and Reagan shrugged. “I’ve got to say, Mom, this place is a lot weird. Not only is Aunt Willow weird, but this whole town seems like something out of a Stephen King book. It’s a good thing I don’t get into that sort of thing.” She looked down at the stack of crim
e mysteries she had checked out.
“People in small towns are very protective and wary of strangers, and the librarian is right, your aunt has been alone for a long time. I just want you to know she didn’t even hesitate when I asked if you could stay. I won’t say she gushed about it, but she was very matter-of-fact that you were welcome. My guess is that you will be left to your own devices. Now put those books in the car and let’s check out the square.”
They walked the quaint square, looking into the shop windows. They agreed that it was like a page out of the past. The windows were mullioned, like Willow’s house. There was an attorney’s office, a bakery, a drug store, a small diner, and an old-fashioned hardware store. The city offices were also located on the square next to the library. They found the pizza place in one corner, quietly displaying a sign that stated that Antonio’s not only had pizza, but delicious pastas, calzones, salads, and cannoli’s. The smell coming from the shop was unexpectedly delectable.
Smiling with appreciation, they went in and ordered two medium pizzas. Realizing they had no idea what kind of pizza Aunt Willow would like, they ordered a deluxe and a vegetarian. While they waited for the pizzas, they sat at a table near a window, watching for any sign of interesting activity. The town was dead.
“There is no one out there,” said Reagan. “There isn’t a kid or a teenager anywhere in sight. I may have to get a lot more books.” She sighed, but then caught the look on her mom’s face. “I know I was a pain in the butt earlier, and I’m sorry. I will make the best of it. You know I love to read, so this is the summer I get to relax and read to my heart’s content. It’s all good.” They looked out on the empty square until the food was ready and then drove back to Willow’s, the car filled with the heady aroma of hot pizza.
Willow was just coming out of the barn when Reagan and her mom drove in with dinner. Wiley came running up, happily wagging his tail. He no longer considered them a threat.
“Please tell me you got some meat on that pizza,” said Willow as she approached the car. “I don’t want you to think my hippie persona extends to a vegetarian existence.”
“We weren’t sure, so we got a deluxe and a vegetarian,” said Becky, trying to reassure Willow that they weren’t stereotyping her.
“I’ll eat just about anything, but I do like pepperoni, and Wiley here will eat any kind of pizza bones you offer him.”
“Pizza bones?” questioned Reagan
“The crusts,” said Becky and Willow together.
“Your father always called them that,” said Willow wistfully. “He was always slipping his dog the crusts.”
“Wait, I didn’t know Dad had a dog,” said Reagan.
“Really?” Willow looked sideways at Reagan as they walked to the house. “He had a collie named Scout. He adored that dog. They went everywhere together. That dog never left his side. When Scout died, I think a piece of your dad died with him. It was one of the saddest days I can remember, a real tragedy.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll tell you over pizza. I’m hungry,” said Willow as she opened the door to the kitchen, letting Becky pass through with the two aromatic boxes.
They settled at the large kitchen table. Willow grabbed a handful of paper plates and threw them on the table. Reagan looked for napkins, but Willow gestured at the roll of paper towels. Shrugging, Reagan picked up the roll and set it on the table while her mom grabbed some cans of Pepsi out of the fridge.
“So, tell me about my dad’s dog,” inquired Reagan as she nibbled on a piece of vegetarian pizza. She was shocked at how good it was. Who knew this backwoods hick town could have pizza this good?
“Scout was just about the best dog that walked the earth,” Willow started. “He was dedicated to all of us, and fiercely protective. Your father picked him from a litter from Roger Whitstock, down the road a piece. He’s an old man now and still can raise really fine collies. Your dad had wanted one of Whitstock’s pups for a long time, but Wolf had to save his money. Mom and Dad didn’t have the cash for a purebred. They offered to take Wolf to the county kennel to rescue a dog. In fact, they would have preferred that, but your dad wanted a Whitstock collie. He saved for two years or so, working his paper route every day and not buying himself anything during that time. The rest of us would go to the movies or get a malt from the drugstore, but not your dad. He wanted that dog. Sometimes I would pay for his way into the theater and get him a malt. After all, I owed him…” Willow grabbed another piece of deluxe pizza.
“Why did you owe him?” asked Becky.
“That’s not important,” said Willow, waving away the comment with impatience. She was warming to the story, and she didn’t want to be interrupted. Reagan had just about finished her first piece of pizza when she felt a wet nose push firmly into her hand. She looked under the table and the liquid brown eyes of Wiley gazed up at her. A string of drool hung from the black flappy stuff on the side of his lower jaw. Reagan glanced at Willow and leaned down to slip him a ‘bone’. Willow nodded her permission.
“Anyway, after saving up all of his money, he contacted Whitstock. Your dad knew one of Whitstock’s bitches was going to drop a litter soon, and he wanted the pick. Whitstock took a deposit, and your dad waited for that day. When the time came, your dad selected a male pup and named him Scout. Then, when it was time for the pup to be separated from his mother, Wolf walked to Whitstock’s farm and then carried that pup in his arms as he walked the four miles home. They were inseparable.”
“One day, when Scout was four years old or so, he and your dad were down on the rocks on the beach. No one really knows what happened that day, but your dad ended up in the surf. Probably a rogue wave. There are strong currents down there, and your dad was being swept out to sea. It was November and very cold. Scout went crazy, barking and running back and forth. When he realized your dad wasn’t going to make it to shore, he jumped in and tried to bring him to safety. Now collies are herding dogs. It was his instinct to save your dad, but collies are not water dogs. Wiley here is a Lab.” Wiley’s tail thumped the floor as he recognized his name. “He would have had no trouble bringing Wolf in, but Scout, not so much luck. Long story short, Scout was able to bring your dad out of the surf, but he died in the process.”
Becky looked startled. She had never heard this story from her husband.
“Wolf never told you about it, did he?” asked Willow. “I’m not surprised. He never really talked to anyone about it after it happened. After that, your dad couldn’t wait to leave this place. That’s all he talked about, and once he did leave, he never came back. Never set his foot here again.” Willow looked sad as she said that, but then she reached for a piece of the vegetarian pizza. “Just as well, he wouldn’t have been happy coming back, and I hated to see him unhappy.”
“How old was my dad when Scout died?” asked Reagan.
“He was seventeen.”
“Wow, I figured he was younger,” said Reagan. “You mean at seventeen, he couldn’t swim back?”
“Nope. I think that’s one of the things that really bothered him. He figured it was his fault that Scout died. He was old enough to not do something so stupid as to fall in when the ocean surf was pounding like that. It was even low tide, but something must have gone wrong. Like I said, he wouldn’t talk about it, and I stopped asking him. Especially when he kept trying to get me to move away from here. He refused to come back, and I refused to leave. This is my home, complete with my memories and ghosts.”
“That’s so weird that Wolf never told me about any of that, but to be honest, he really never talked about his home. He talked about you a lot. I know that he adored you. He loved those evenings when you guys would talk for hours on the phone, but he never even offered to bring me here,” said Becky.
“Mom, you never came here? But you met Aunt Willow before, right?” said Reagan.
“I met your Aunt Willow when she came to Cleveland for a gallery opening. Her pottery was featured at one of the gall
eries in the Cleveland area, so she stayed with us for a few days. That was when you were just a baby. Then she visited a couple more times when she had some more shows in the area, but it’s been years.”
“Why didn’t you come to Cleveland anymore?” asked Reagan.
“I don’t like to travel that much, and I decided to concentrate on showing here on the East Coast. Later on, I was able to sell all over the country through my website, so there wasn’t any need to travel. I’m busy enough as it is, so I didn’t have to.”
“Well, I’m sorry that we fell out of touch,” said Becky, “and I wish that we could visit more, but I have to catch a flight in the morning, and then I will have a long day getting briefed and settling in for my assignment. Reagan, we need to leave here at 6:30 in the morning, so be sure that you set your alarm to get up in time to drive me to the airport. Good night, sweetie. Goodnight, Willow." Becky absently pat Wiley on the head as she walked past him on the way to the garbage can. He slithered a slimy tongue over the back of her wrist. Reagan laughed at the expression on her mom’s face.
“I don’t think Mom is much of a dog person,” said Reagan.
“No doubt,” agreed Willow. “I have some work to do in my office, so I assume you can fend for yourself. Right? If you need anything, just nose around. I’m sure you’ll find it. Don’t be surprised if Wiley joins you in the middle of the night. He wanders around the house keeping guard. He sleeps wherever the mood takes him. By the way,” said Willow on her way out of the room, “which bedroom did you choose?”
“The cornflower blue room that faces the ocean. Is that okay?”
“Good choice. It’s Adelaide’s room. I’m sure she won’t mind.” With that Willow walked out of the kitchen, walked down the front hall and closed herself into her office leaving Reagan standing in the kitchen with her mouth hanging open.
The Starfish Talisman Page 2
