Rogue Wave

by Isabel Jolie

  She snaps her fingers. “Perfect.”

  “And what exactly are you going to do with those buckets of water?” I asked as she stood by the outside spigot, filling up a yellow bucket with a white plastic handle she’d commandeered from below the porch.

  “You’d probably rather not know. But I trust Alice. We should do this. And then, after dinner, I want to show you the paint chips. We can go across to the mainland this weekend and pick up the paint. Knock out the upstairs.”

  Her movement felt like a whirlwind through the house. I checked on the casserole and tossed a salad. After dinner, we went for a walk along the beach. One thing about this island, no matter how crazy the day might get, or how strong the swell, when evening rolled around, life fell into a gentle lull.

  Chapter 18

  Luna

  * * *

  “Alice?” I knocked once more on the door. Chances were great the door, like all the others on the island, was unlocked, but I didn’t feel right walking into Alice’s home. Her golf cart sat in the adjacent shed, so she wasn’t far.

  I wandered down the path beside her cedar planked cottage, crunching dried leaves, sand, and sticks with each step to her back yard. Her place boasted some of the best marsh views. A blue heron stood watch on long, spindly legs. At my approach, his wide white wings expanded, and he glided off into the air.

  “Ms. Luna. Did you come to help me pickle?”

  “I can help if you need it.”

  “Come here and chop some of this cauliflower.”

  Alice had a large plank table in her back yard with mason jars lined along it, plus more stacked in boxes on the ground. Heads of cauliflower, celery, radishes, and onions filled several boxes on the ground.

  “You pickle cauliflower?”

  “Tastes amazing. I pickle it and sell it to some of the restaurants on the mainland.”

  Several cats meandered through her back yard, and one wrapped its tail around my leg, purring loudly like an engine. I picked up a knife from the counter and cut the good stuff away from the stalk.

  “Why, look at that. Shelby likes you. She’s been so sad, and here she is…you’d never know she has a lost baby right now.”

  “She lost her baby?”

  Alice’s knife moved with the rhythm of a practiced chef as she spoke, and I watched in awe.

  “Yes, one of her kittens went missing. Doesn’t mean good things.”

  “I can go looking for it. What does it look like?”

  “Looks just like her momma. Slate. Magic blue eyes. A few shades darker than Adrian’s.”

  “I’ll go out and look. Couldn’t have strayed far, right?”

  “You’re a good soul, Luna. I wish Pearl had been able to spend more time with you. She would’ve liked to know her grandson’s girl.”

  “Girl? No, I’m sorry. He doesn’t…we’re not. It’s not like that.” My face warmed under her gaze, and I set my focus on the razor-sharp blade. There was no good reason to get Alice’s hopes up. She cared for Tate.

  “Not like that, huh? I see. Well, you think he’d help you search for Shelby’s baby?”

  I set the chef’s knife down on the carving board, not because I was tired, but because I felt inadequate and unnerved by Alice as she expertly shredded vegetables beside me. The silver strands woven through her thick black braids leant a splendor to her countenance and a veil of wisdom.

  “I’ll ask.” My words came out in a whisper.

  “Oh, good. Go, now, child. Thank you. Shelby thanks you.”

  When I left Alice’s home, I called out along the way, hoping to locate the cat before finding my way to Tate’s. No such luck struck.

  I found Tate outside, blowing away some debris with his electric blower. His faded t-shirt pulled tight across his chest, and his muscles flexed from holding the machine. Sweet Joseph, lord, he is hot. He smiled as I approached, and the loud whir of the blower ceased. “Hi.” His slow grin tossed my insides with the force of a powerful wave.

  “Hey. Alice sent me. One of her kittens is lost, and she wondered if you might be willing to help me search for it. I’ve been calling out to it, but I’m beginning to think it’s not going to come out on its own.”

  “A kitten? How old?”

  “I’m not sure. Judging from the others, I’d guess around twelve weeks.”

  He grimaced. “She lives close to the marsh. That’s not cat friendly territory.”

  “Her other cats seem to do well there. She has a lot of them.”

  He hung the blower up on a peg in the small garage then stepped back out and squinted into the sun. “We’ve got several more hours of daylight. The biggest risk is the marsh and woods. Let’s go back toward Alice’s and search from there. Chances are the kitten is hiding nearby, scared.”

  “I thought I read that when a cat gets scared the flight response kicks in.”

  “Definitely can. But there’s a good chance he’s still close by. Did you walk here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll drive us back over. Then we’ll comb the woods. What’s the cat look like?”

  “Dark gray, blue eyes. Do you know Alice’s cats?”

  “Can’t say that I do.”

  “Well, he looks like his mom, Shelby. According to Alice.”

  I called out, “Here, kitty, kitty,” as we cut across the middle of the island. After calling a few times, I stopped, and we rode along in silence. We both kept our sight trained on the passing woods. The deeper into the island we drove, the louder the world under the tree canopy grew.

  Tate broke the silence. “Is Alice out looking for it?”

  I laughed. “No. She’s busy pickling. All these random veggies. To be honest, I’d think she’s trying to play matchmaker, except that her kitten really is missing.”

  “You think she’d play matchmaker with us? Even with our age difference?”

  I slid closer to him and touched his thigh. That got his attention.

  “When are you going to get over the age difference? It’s not that big of a deal. Jacques Cousteau was thirty-six years older than his second wife.”

  “No shit?”

  “Yep. And they had two kids.”

  “Thirty-six-year difference? Wow.”

  “When you studied him, you don’t remember that?”

  “You know, I didn’t really pay attention to his personal life. That’s not my thing.”

  “No? You’re not the kind of guy to pick up the magazine to find out if maybe this time Jen and Brad really are getting back together?”

  He smirked. “No.”

  “Not once?”

  “Nope. Although, I will say, I was surprised to see that line on the covers of rags, leave for ten years, then return home and see it still pops up. Some things don’t change. Or, well, the Kardashians. I’d say that’s a new one. For me.”

  The wheels scrunched over dried leaves as he turned and parked off the road near Alice’s home. He surveyed the area.

  “Let’s start with the back of her yard, where it backs up to the marsh.”

  “What do you think Cousteau’s biggest contribution was?”

  He pointed at the ground where I walked. “Be careful. Look out for sandy mounds. Those fire ants are vicious.”

  I stepped gingerly around the leaf strewn area. We both wore flip flops. He might fear ants, but snakes were my bugaboo. Once he was satisfied I’d skirted the ant mound, he answered my question. “The moratorium on whaling. If he hadn’t gotten involved, I’d bet whales might be extinct.”

  “Do you think?”

  “Yeah, I do. You know he has a son who has been instrumental in fighting long lines.”

  “I did know that. I follow him on Twitter. Technology is a double-edged sword when it comes to the ocean. Better freezers, nets that go on for miles, efficient engines that can allow ships to go farther with heavier loads, on the outset, they all sound like good things, until you consider the long-term environmental impact. And the fact that so much of the
ocean has no governing body, no one to oversee it.”

  “Exactly. Trying to get people to care, it’s hard.”

  We stepped up to the tall grass on the water's edge. He held an arm out, blocking me from moving forward. He signaled silence with a single finger over his lips then pointed.

  At first, I didn’t see anything. The dark, murky water shone black through the reeds. Then I saw it. Unrestrained, I bounced on my heels. Tate’s arm snapped across my chest, protective.

  “An alligator.” I pointed to prove I saw it. “Right there.” Skimming the surface of the water, a dark orb protruded. Only its eyes could be seen, the rest of the gator completely hidden. He’d have to come up to breathe, but they could stay underwater for as long as twenty-four hours.

  He reached for my hand. Turned it left ninety degrees and lowered my pointed index finger. Another set of eyes. Then he pointed farther along the shore. A small gator rested in the sun on the shoreline.

  “We’ve got to find that cat,” I said. He nodded.

  We both carefully inspected the shoreline, searching along every fallen tree, separating clumps of grass, searching for a hiding kitten.

  The sun traveled to the west, and the shade in the woods deepened. At one point, Alice brought us out freshly squeezed lemonade. We returned the empty glasses to her house then headed back off into the woods. Alice decided to come out and join in the search as the sun waned. The three of us separated, combing through the woods, searching for a mound of fur.

  Sun reflected off a stick, partially covered by coppery pine remnants. Tate crouched up ahead, peering into a hollowed-out tree.

  “Did you find him?”

  I stepped forward, and the stick moved. I leaped back, screaming like a banshee. In a flash, Tate was at my side.

  “Snake!” I shrieked.

  He searched the ground while holding me back with his arm, protective.

  “Sweet Joseph, that scared the bejeezus out of me.”

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Over there. Somewhere.”

  “Probably a copperhead.” He pulled me into his side and rubbed my shoulder, calming me down. “It’s getting dark. Harder to see the ground in the woods.”

  He didn’t say it, but I recognized the somber tone.

  “There you are, you little wild one.” Alice stood, hands on her hips, about fifteen feet away, completely unperturbed by my snake sighting.

  “You found him?” I called.

  “Here the little troublemaker is.” She scooped down and picked up a fuzz ball.

  I stayed close to Tate. Leaves crunched below Alice’s feet as she approached us, holding out a scrawny gray kitten by the hair on his neck.

  “Such the brave boy. Do you want yourself a cat?”

  “Me? Oh, no. I can’t even keep plants alive.”

  “Tate, what about you? You need a kitten, don’t you?”

  He shook his head with a grin as he placed pressure on my lower back, forcing me forward, in the opposite direction of the snake, so I obliged.

  “Wouldn’t Shelby be sad if you gave away one of her kittens?”

  “I suppose so, but I’m currently at about fourteen cats. I could stand to find a few new homes for them.”

  “Fourteen?”

  “That’s why I keep most of them outside.”

  Tate muttered under his breath, “Won’t be fourteen for long.”

  After saying goodnight to Alice, Tate drove us to the market, and we picked out dinner, and he drove me back to my place to get some fresh clothes for the night.

  He leaned back against the doorframe and watched as I threw together a few things to change into. “Why don’t you pack more? Keep some stuff at my place? You’ve been staying over all the time, anyway.”

  “You mean you want to give me a drawer?”

  “Don’t go mental. Just pack a few extra things.” The grin plastered across his face made him look young. Happiness looked good on him. He pulled a phone out of his pocket and read the text. He stopped. His jaw flexed. All signs of carefree Tate vanished.

  Chapter 19

  Tate

  * * *

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “Is that any way to greet your brother? Who you haven’t seen in years?” Gregg held both arms out to his side, palms splayed open. A defensive stance I knew well.

  “Something wrong with the phone? You have the right to stop by and stay without a heads up?”

  “I’m not staying here, you ass. I booked a room at the Inn. Heard through the grapevine you’re doing a massive renovation.” He held both hands on his hips and looked down on me, the way he always did, as if I was the wayward piece of shit he had to constantly look after.

  Mother fucker.

  “What? You think Gabe wouldn’t make new friends? Is that what you expected? He’d be the same loyal friend following your lead after you diss him for ten years?”

  Anger poured out of every single crevice. If I was a ship, I’d be submerged in anger, on the verge of capsizing and cascading down to the sandy bottom below. The brushes I’d been cleaning lay dripping off the front porch, and I snapped one up and held it at him like it was a weapon to be feared. The anger had simmered since receiving his text yesterday, and in his presence, it surged, threatening to breach flimsy barriers.

  He cracked a smile. “You going to beat me with a brush? You want a brush fight? Do I get one, too?” He leaned against the short picket fence and cocked his head with that familiar half-smile. “Remember when we used to fight with sticks? I beat your ass every time.”

  My right hand clenched the brush handle. And as quickly as the blades of grass over the dunes stilled in the absence of breeze, all that anger subsided.

  “You always got the better stick.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “No. You had a knack for picking out the thicker stick.”

  “Well, you know.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and even though he had trimmed hair and looked the part of an uptight businessman, I saw a bit of the brother who’d been my friend and the best fort builder I’d ever known.

  I set the brush back down on the plank and wiped my brow and gestured inside the cottage with my head.

  “Want a beer?”

  “Sure.”

  A large eggplant and squash rested on the counter. I handed him a beer as I considered serving size. “We were going to grill eggplant and squash for dinner tonight and mix it in with a salad. You want—”

  “As tempting as that sounds, I was hoping I could convince you to go to Delphina’s tonight. I was pretty stoked to see it’s still open. Their chips and salsa are calling my name.”

  “Sure. Works for me. What we have for dinner will keep.”

  “We?”

  I smiled. Busted. But, yeah, for now, a “we.” At least until she moved on. I closed the refrigerator door and pointed the green glass neck of my bottle toward the back deck. “Want to sit?”

  Within five strides, he set foot on the deck. Those long legs of his had always made him faster. We were brothers, but he’d always been taller, smarter, more obedient, always looking to please our parents. Greggory, the firstborn good kid and Adrian, the family misfit.

  I slid back into the chair, facing forward, watching the dunes.

  “So, who is the we?”

  “A girl I met on the island. She’s a scientist at the conservancy center.”

  “Ah, should have known you’d find another bleeding heart.”

  I tipped my beer back, swallowing the fuck you on the tip of my tongue.

  As if on cue, the screen door cracked open.

  “Tate, oh, hi.” She stepped out on the porch. “I didn’t know you had a guest.”

  My brother, ever the gentleman, leaped to his feet and held out his hand. “Greggory. Adrian’s brother.”

  “Adrian?” she asked, her lips spreading into a wide smile.

  Gregg didn’t skip a beat. He smiled down at me, amused. “You still introduce yourself a
s Tate?”

  “Yes, I do.” I reached for Luna’s hand and pulled her down onto my lap. Since we only had two chairs on the porch, it felt like the right thing to do. “This is Luna.”

  Gregg sat back down in his chair. His ring finger clinked with his beer bottle when he picked it back up.

  “So, your wife is Laura, right? How long have you been married?”

  He grimaced. “Yes, Laura. Seven years now. You’re an uncle.” He tilted his beer back, and I knew there were accusations he wanted to shout my way. I deserved every one of them, too. What kind of brother misses his brother’s wedding?

  I held Luna’s thigh tight, pulling her against me like a shield. “We’re thinking we might go to Delphina’s tonight for dinner. You up for that?”

  She wove her fingers through my hair, sending rivulets down my back. Her freshly showered hair smelled of strawberries instead of the coconut scent I’d grown to love. She watched my brother as I slipped a few fingers beneath her shirt to touch her soft skin.

  “You know, I think I’m going to let you two catch up. Poppy wants to go to Jules tonight, and I’ve been ignoring her. Maybe you two can stop by Jules after dinner?”

  “Luna, don’t feel like you can’t come out with us. I don’t mean to derail your plans for the night.” Greggory addressed her in a cordial, professional manner.

  “Please, it’s the beach. No plans can’t be changed.”

  “Where are you from?” he asked her.

  “Prepare yourself. This is the start of the inquisition,” I warned.

  “Ignore him,” Gregg said. “Apparently, he’s been away from civilization for so long he’s forgotten this is how the rest of the world functions.”

  I didn’t appreciate the dig. Luna pressed her lips to my cheek, and the tension eased.

  With a casual smile, she answered Gregg. “I’m from Florida. How old are your children? Do you have pictures?”

  Gregg set his beer on the table and half rose to pull a phone out of his back pocket. “See, Adrian? This is how it’s done.” He swiped on his phone then handed it over to Luna. A photo of a toddler holding a baby shone.