Home to the Harbor--A Novel

by Lee Tobin McClain

  Bisky hesitated, then followed him. “Are you heading where I think you’re heading?”

  Was he? He’d walked this road a thousand times, as a child. But he hadn’t been back home since the day he’d left Pleasant Shores for good. “I guess I am,” he said. “Have you been back here lately?”

  “No. I used to walk by every now and then, digging sang—wild ginseng roots—but I got too busy lately.” She touched his arm. “It’s not what it was. Just so you know.”

  “It never was much.” The idea that the trailer he’d grown up in had deteriorated beyond the dilapidated state it had been when he’d grown up...that was hard to fathom.

  The sun had set, but the moon cast a silvery light over everything.

  The dogs sniffed and barked a little as they went deeper into the marshland. Frogs chirped and plopped into the water, and something rustled through the undergrowth that made Xena lunge, with Muffin immediately following suit. All of it was thrilling stuff, apparently, to the canine crowd.

  “Sunny’s right, you know,” Bisky said out of nowhere. “You don’t have to feel so guilty about what happened to your daughter. It’s not your fault. It’s awful, but it’s not your fault.”

  William had heard that sentiment before, but he’d always disregarded it. Now, maybe it was what Sunny had said about kids often being left alone, or maybe it was the way the past was rising up to greet him on this moonlit road, but he started to let it in.

  If Jenna’s death hadn’t been his fault, then what?

  If it were just some random, horrible thing that had happened...a wave of grief washed over him, tightening his throat. “It is my fault,” he said once he could speak again.

  Because feeling guilty was better than just feeling devastated.

  “There it is,” Bisky said, gesturing toward a structure ahead where moonlight glinted off metal.

  It was his family’s trailer, all right, practically buried beneath vines and branches. A section of vines by the door was torn away, as if squatters sometimes made use of the place, but there was no light, no sign of life. It seemed to be deserted now.

  They both stopped to look at the trailer while the dogs sniffed madly, pulling at their leashes.

  “William?” Bisky was right beside him, close enough to touch, but she didn’t do it. “What really happened when you left Pleasant Shores?”

  He turned his head to look at her. “You don’t know?”

  “No one does. Just, one day you weren’t here and neither was your dad.”

  For the first time, he wondered how that had felt for her. They’d matured beyond being childhood playmates by the time he’d left, but they’d remained friends, had seen each other a couple of times a week, had shared their cares and woes.

  He tugged Xena, making her stay close, and slowly, he and Bisky and the dogs started walking around the trailer. “Mom always told me to leave Dad alone. To tend to my studies and keep the peace.”

  “I remember,” she said. “Your mom was so sweet.”

  “Too sweet,” he said. “Too sweet for her own good. That day I left, Dad beat her to within an inch of her life.”

  Bisky sucked in a breath. “No one knew where she’d gone, either, but she came back a month or so later, without either of you. I don’t know if she talked to anyone about what happened, but if she did, my family never heard about it.”

  “Your uncle never told you what went down?” He’d expected word to get out, via her cop uncle.

  “Uncle Nate?” She shook her head. “He took me aside and told me you were okay, and that I wasn’t to ask questions or talk about you being gone.”

  That sounded like Nate. “Do you really want to hear the story?”

  She nodded.

  He stared off into the darkness, and it started to play out in his mind, like a movie. “I was the one who pulled him off her.” He hated revisiting that day in his mind and rarely did it, but being back here brought it all back: the screams, the blood, his father’s rage as he stood over William’s bleeding mother. “Your uncle said I saved her life, and that was why he didn’t take me in for what I did to my dad.”

  “What did you do? You didn’t...” She trailed off, staring at him, her eyes huge.

  “I didn’t kill him, but I came close. As close as I ever have or ever hope to again.” He swallowed down bile. “Once I’d knocked him unconscious, I stood there over my two bloody parents and thought, I have to get out of here or this place will make me into my father.” He blew out a sigh and looked at Bisky.

  She was watching him, quiet, waiting.

  “I called your uncle. He’d been kind before, and I thought... I just didn’t want my father to wake up and finish the job on Mom, and I was worried she’d bleed out.” He remembered his own mix of rage and self-loathing and fear, and it tightened his throat. He swallowed, and coughed, and was able to go on. “Once Nate said they were both alive and would survive, and got her an ambulance, told me he’d hook her up with domestic violence people...I changed my bloody clothes and filled a suitcase with my things and left.”

  They were standing right in front of the trailer now, and Bisky put an arm around him and squeezed a little. “It sounds awful.”

  “It was.” But talking about it, at least to Bisky, wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined it would be. Maybe it was the way she accepted what he said and didn’t jump to judgment or condemnation.

  “Where’d you go?” Bisky sank down onto the metal steps that led up to the trailer door, looking up at him. “How’d you survive? You were only sixteen.”

  He nodded. “I was big and strong enough to find work. I took Dad’s car, and made it about a hundred miles. When it died near Stahlstown, I walked the rest of the way into town. Slept on a park bench until the cops found me and told me about a shelter for runaway teens.”

  “That was lucky.”

  He nodded. “Very. I stayed there while I worked day labor and earned enough to get a room in a rooming house. That was quieter. The woman who ran the place saw how hard I worked on my GED studies, and she got me to apply for college. I’m still in touch with her. I owe her a lot.”

  “Wow.” Bisky moved over to make room for him on the steps beside her. “You had a time of it, didn’t you? Did your dad ever try to find you?”

  He shook his head. “Mom got some counseling at a domestic violence center, and she ended up coming back here to live. But I guess you know that.”

  “She’s the one who told people you taught in a college. She was real proud.”

  That made him smile a little. “Dad...well, your uncle gave him the choice of staying away, forever, or facing charges for manslaughter.”

  “Manslaughter?”

  He swallowed. “Mom was pregnant.”

  “Oh, wow.” She rubbed his back, gentle circles that felt good. Soothing, and something more. He liked her touch.

  He turned to look at her. In the moonlight, her eyes shone.

  He felt tender, exposed. “Would you do something for me?” he asked on impulse.

  “What?”

  “Would you take down your hair?”

  Her eyes widened and she just looked at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she reached behind herself and pulled the elastic from her ponytail. She never took her eyes off him as she spread her hair over her shoulders.

  The two dogs had lain down at their feet. The call of a loon sounded in the distance, the night alive with small, natural sounds you’d never hear in the city, but they were sounds he’d grown up with.

  He reached out and took a strand of her hair in his hand, lifted it, let it fall.

  “It’s soft,” he said. “Pretty.”

  “Thanks.” Her eyes had gained a knowing, now. They darkened, and her breathing quickened. He was alert to her because he was feeling the same changes in his own body.

 
He reached higher and tangled his fingers in her hair, and leaned closer. He could smell a slight, flowery cologne.

  This was Bisky, his dear old friend. Who also happened to be an incredibly beautiful and warm and desirable woman.

  He shouldn’t kiss her, right? But he was raw after telling his story to her. Too raw to choose the sensible, careful route.

  Slowly, he leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  BISKY FELT LIKE she was melting.

  William’s lips moved over hers and her heart rate ratcheted up. Dizzy, she clung to his broad shoulders, a steady anchor in the storm of her own feelings.

  Wanting to get closer, she lifted up to meet him, increasing the pressure of the kiss. His responding groan sent vibrations through her entire body.

  His face was rough, stubbly, but his lips were gentle. His hands on her back stayed high, kneading her shoulders a little, tangling in her hair.

  This is William. And she knew it was her old, dear friend. She felt a depth of caring for him she’d never experienced for any other man. The things she’d known about him before melded with the things she’d seen in him since he’d returned to town, the horrible things he’d shared tonight. All of it made her want to draw him near, help him, soothe him.

  Except he didn’t need soothing, because he was a strong, powerful man, and he was kissing her like a strong, powerful man. He was making her entire body throb just from kissing. Her breathing went ragged and her heart pounded to where she felt like she might pass out. She tugged away. “Wait a second, William,” she said.

  “Too much?” He studied her, his eyes dark with what she could tell was desire, his own breathing rough. “I never want to be too much for you.”

  She swallowed. This is William. He needs a friend, not...

  The old arguments started to rear their heads, but she didn’t want them back, not just yet.

  “Come here.” William was sitting on the steps, and he urged her, half lifted her, until she was sitting on his lap. Then he cuddled her against him as if she were a child.

  She’d never have dared to sit on a man’s lap before. She was too big, too much.

  But for William, she wasn’t too much. He was substantial enough to handle all she was. She leaned against his broad chest and listened to the strong beat of his heart.

  I’ve never been happier, she thought.

  He stroked her back slowly. “What I feel right now...”

  She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, and that was all right. He was telling her with his gentle hands and warm embrace. He was showing her that he cared.

  And not just in a friend way, either. She’d stirred him as a man, and that gave her a delicious feeling of power and joy.

  They sat like that for a few minutes. Tangled together, kissing a little, warming each other with half comfort, half desire. Bisky wanted more, and she knew enough about men to be certain William did, too. But he was strong enough, man enough, good enough to hold back, and slowly, the real world gathered in around them: the night sounds, crickets and frogs; the moonlight, the dogs at their feet.

  Muffin stood and gave a short bark, and Xena leaped to her feet on high alert. Bisky squeezed William’s shoulder and then, reluctantly, stood. “Probably some critter in the woods,” she said, “but that’s my cue to get back. I need to pick Sunny up soon.”

  William stood, too. He draped his arm around her shoulders, and it felt amazing and good to nestle under his arm. She’d never been able to do that before, not really. William was the perfect fit.

  Then he stiffened. “Did you hear something?”

  She tilted her head. “No...wait.” She held up a finger. There was a low laugh, the clink of a bottle. The dogs went nuts again.

  “Come on. Stay behind me.” He led the way toward the noises, walking lightly and quietly for a man of his size. With the dogs barking, there was no question of their sneaking up on anyone, but as they got closer to the main road and came to an old camp circle, it was apparent that sneaking wasn’t important. These were teenagers, and they were drinking. A lot, guessing from the empties and the slack attitudes. A couple of them even noticed Bisky and William, but beyond nudging each other and nodding in their direction, they didn’t seem to care that adults had shown up.

  Several of the teenagers were kneeling around something. As William and Bisky approached, they backed and shuffled away.

  All except for one kid, who continued holding a dish for the dog to lap up.

  “Quit it,” one of the others yelled, nodding sideways at Bisky and William. And the kid looked guilty and tossed the dish away.

  Xena and Muffin continued growling and letting out the occasional bark, but they stuck close to their humans.

  “Look out, it’s Big Bisky,” someone said, and Bisky’s stomach tightened for just a minute before she reminded herself that it didn’t matter if intoxicated teenagers called her names.

  The dog that had been surrounded by kids turned toward Xena and Muffin, but staggered a little and then sat as if it didn’t remember how it was supposed to act around other dogs. It stood and walked a few uncoordinated steps, and then lay down clumsily.

  Muffin and Xena surged forward.

  “Hold them,” William said to Bisky, and strode forward. “What did you do to that dog?” he asked the teenagers.

  Bisky had her hands full with their own two dogs, now pulling and barking, but she skimmed the faces of the teens in front of her. There was Elijah, and another kid she recognized as his cousin who visited often. There was Syd, and another girl and two boys she didn’t know.

  The teenagers didn’t answer William’s question. They whispered among themselves. A couple of them staggered almost as badly as the dog, which William was now examining. Bisky alone knew how much courage that took. William was overcoming his fear of dogs, but he wasn’t there yet.

  This dog wasn’t growling or snarling, though. She was relaxed and sleepy looking. As Bisky studied it more closely she realized she had seen it in the neighborhood. It belonged to a family who lived in a mobile home at the far end, and it was an escape artist, often digging under the fence and running away. Peppy was the dog’s name, she was pretty sure.

  “Is it hurt?” she called over the sounds of their dogs. Elijah started to slip away, but she stepped in front of him. “No. Uh-uh. You stay here until we know what’s going on and what we’re going to do.”

  “No wounds, but...” William leaned closer and sniffed, then leaned back and glared at the teenagers. “Were you feeding that dog alcohol?”

  One of the girls giggled, and a couple of the others looked sheepish and nodded.

  “Idiots.” Bisky didn’t know whether alcohol was fatal to dogs, but it couldn’t be good for them. And she knew enough about teenagers to understand they probably hadn’t meant it any harm, but seriously?

  “All right,” William said. “We either call the police now, or you give me your names.” He made them each say their names into his phone, and Bisky confirmed the ones she could. “You can go,” he said after they’d all shared their names, “but expect to hear from us.”

  “We should take the dog to the emergency vet,” Bisky said. “And for sure, you kids are paying for it. It’s not cheap.”

  Several of the teenagers glared and others muttered to each other as they took off.

  That left William and Bisky to care for the intoxicated little hound. “Let’s get out to the main road where there’s better cell service, and we’ll call the vet,” she said.

  So they did, and were quickly able to get a vet on the line. “Watch the dog,” she said. “It may be fine, depends on the size of the animal and how much it ingested, which you probably have no way of knowing.” She rattled off signs and symptoms that should prompt a visit, and then Bisky ended the call.

  They
walked back to Bisky’s place. William held their two dogs, now calm, while Bisky cradled the little hound in her arms.

  “I’ll take it home,” William said.

  “No, I can keep it, it’s from around here.” Then she snapped her mouth shut. There she went, being bossy again. Big, bossy Bisky. Insecurity rose up in her as they reached her house. “Sorry, it’s just that I think I know where it lives. I’ll give them a call in the morning, take it home.”

  “That’s good, then,” he said. “Listen, Bisky, I apologize.”

  “For what?”

  His forehead wrinkled like he was worried. “For kissing you,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

  He regrets it. He doesn’t really want you. And that’s fine, you don’t need him.

  “It’s no big deal,” she said quickly, not wanting him to explain further. “The moonlight, talking about the past. I get it. It was a fluke.”

  He looked at her for a moment, his head tilted to one side. “Right, a fluke,” he said. “See you. Thanks for dinner.”

  “Sure.” She opened the front door and went inside, taking the little hound and Muffin with her. She glanced back in time to see William’s quick wave, and then he and Xena walked down the street.

  Bisky stood in the doorway and watched him go. He was walking slowly. She still admired his size, his form, his strength.

  She put her hand to her mouth and let herself relive the kiss. It had been wonderful. Even now, she felt a remembered glow from just thinking about it.

  But he’d retracted it. He’d said he shouldn’t have done it.

  That was right. He shouldn’t have done it, and she shouldn’t have allowed it. Had they ruined their friendship?

  She cuddled the sleepy little dog against her and slowly shut the door.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, William browsed the shelves at Lighthouse Lit, waiting for Mary to finish ringing up a customer’s purchase. They were meeting to assess William’s progress in the program and make sure things were going well.

  And things were going well. Almost too well. He couldn’t stop thinking about last night.