Home to the Harbor--A Novel

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “You’ve been talking,” Sunny said, and Bisky knew that was teenage parlance for some kind of romantic connection, or the start of it.

  “Besides,” Sunny continued indignantly, “he’s late! What a jerk.”

  Despite herself, Bisky smiled at her daughter’s loyalty. “He’ll probably be here in a few,” she said. “If not, we can get started without him.”

  “He’s not who I thought he was,” Sunny said.

  Me, either. And Bisky had known him since childhood.

  That was the huge mistake of getting involved with an old friend. When the inevitable breakup happened, you didn’t just lose the romance; you lost the friendship. That thought made her throat tighten up.

  Ahead, six or seven teens milled around outside the museum. Even on a day that had gone cool and gloomy, most of them would rather be outside after a day at school.

  Food for thought. She’d see if Drew had any outdoor projects to complete around the museum. She found that she didn’t want to be inside, either, especially if William was going to be working there.

  She cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Hi, everybody, glad you could come.” She was, too. This was what was important. Not some man. “If you want to work with Mr. Martin inside the museum, come with me and I’ll get you set up.”

  “I’ll work with Mr. Martin anytime.” Serena, new to the group, waggled her pierced eyebrow up and down.

  “Ewww, he’s Kaitlyn’s dad,” said blonde Olivia, lightly slapping Serena’s arm.

  Serena and a couple of the boys headed inside with Bisky, and she spoke with Drew about finding them some work while they waited for William to come take over.

  “No problem,” he said immediately. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks, I’m fine.” She went back outside, just in time to see Kayla approach with a line of six preschoolers, walking two by two, each pair holding hands. Bisky smiled at the little ones, noticing their cuteness with some outer part of her brain that wasn’t hurting. “I think we’re going to have a craft in the museum basement. Elijah, you said you wanted to help with the children, right?”

  Truthfully, she didn’t know what was supposed to happen between the teenagers and children; that was William’s part of the plan. “William isn’t here yet,” she said to Kayla. “Any chance you can keep them occupied until he gets here with the supplies, if he gets here?”

  “No problem,” Kayla said. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks, I’m fine.” But she obviously wasn’t, and obviously, people could tell.

  Have some pride, girl. It was what her father had said when she’d experienced teasing about her dock kid heritage.

  She could do it, too. She could pull herself together.

  No way would she let William see what he’d done to her.

  But that kiss... Some weak, girlish part of her cried, deep inside. That kiss had been beautiful, and so full of promise. To have that level of romance and attraction, plus the beauty of an old friend who’d known her parents and understood her love of the water and had felt the same joys and sorrows of all the families around here... That would have really been something. Something beyond what she expected or deserved.

  But what men wanted was a fragile little blonde, not her.

  The bay tossed and churned, slate-gray, beautiful even at its worst. Above, the gulls flew and cawed. On a good day or a bad, they still had to work for their food.

  A throat cleared beside her. It was Connor, big and burly and shy. “Is there something else you want us to work on?”

  She nodded hard, cleared her head. “Yes, we’re going to have the third group work on the flower beds. If you want to join that group, I’d welcome you. Lots to haul.”

  “Sure. I like to work.”

  So she, Connor and one of the twins, Aiden, started on the flower beds. She set Aiden to work digging holes while she and Connor each took an end of a two-by-four from the stack beside the building to the front of the flower bed. “We’re going to build a low little wall with these,” she said, panting as they carried it across the grassy area and put it down in front of the would-be flower bed.

  “I can do that, Miz Castleman,” Aiden said. He was small and slight, but he’d been raised to help a woman, especially an older one. Most of the dock kids were the same.

  “It’s okay. You get the holes dug, and we’ll be in good shape.”

  She and Connor were hauling the fourth big two-by-four when William approached. “Let me do that,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “I’m plenty strong.” She continued with Connor, and they set the big piece of wood down, in front of the second flower bed.

  Sunny had been with the inside group, but now she rushed outside. “You’re supposed to be inside,” she said to William, her voice a little snotty. “Mr. Martin can’t do it all alone.” She stepped between Bisky and William as if she were physically blocking him from her mother.

  Bisky shook her head and whispered “Manners.” She appreciated Sunny’s support, but she also just felt weary and sad.

  William gave her a long look, but she turned away. “Ready, Connor? We’ve got the side pieces to bring over yet.”

  “Sure.” The two of them walked over to the stack of lumber, leaving William to stand with Sunny for a minute and then walk inside, shoulders slumped.

  She didn’t care. The physical work felt good. It almost distracted her from the ache in her heart.

  Half an hour later, though, William came out again. She was drinking water, a little apart from the teens who were all now planting flowers, and she couldn’t avoid him.

  “Listen, Bisky,” he said. “About what you saw...”

  She raised a hand. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter or interest me.”

  “Bisky.” He stepped closer.

  She couldn’t keep up the fiction that what she’d seen meant nothing to her. So she stood her ground and put her hands on her hips. “I have too much pride to be your side chick. You should know that.”

  “It’s not like—”

  “I know what I saw,” she interrupted. “Leave me alone.” And before he could answer, argue more, break her heart, she spun and walked over to the gardens, determinedly turning her face away from him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ON SATURDAY AROUND NOON, Sunny guided her boat into one of the open slips at Teaberry Island and ignored the slight unease in her chest. “Tie up,” she ordered Caden.

  Aside from a bank of clouds to the south, the sky was blue. It was a warm day, and Caden wore a snug-fitting tee that made it look like he’d been working out.

  You’re not here to gawk at him, you’re here to find out what Venus’s mom knows about the dogs.

  “You sure you know what you’re doing?” He stood above her on the dock, looking down, hair shining in the sun.

  Sunny swallowed. “Of course.” She climbed out of the boat, wondering if he was checking her out. She was wearing her cutest jeans, and she probably should have worn something warmer on top, but right now, at noon, her short T-shirt was fine.

  “Come on, let’s check out this place,” she said. “Have you been here before?”

  “Are you kidding? My folks only hit the high-price resorts.” The corner of his mouth quirked to one side, indicating he didn’t share their tastes. “How about you?”

  “Mom and I came a couple of times. I guess she used to hang out here when she was a kid. There was more to the place then.” Just like most of the Chesapeake islands, Teaberry was shrinking as its shoreline eroded.

  Strangely, though, as it had shrunk, it had become more of a vacation spot and artist’s colony, which was why, she assumed, Venus’s mom was here. There was a little downtown consisting of a short block with a couple of galleries, a diner, a café and a souvenir shop. Branching off from it were a few residential streets. In the dist
ance, you could see a couple of bigger houses on a bluff above the shoreline.

  “So you think we’ll just happen to find Venus’s mom?” Caden was such a boy, always skeptical and thinking he knew what was what.

  “She said her mom lives in a pink house. How many of those can there be? And I know her mom’s not rich, not like your folks, so it’s probably going to be one of the little places close to downtown.”

  “Okay, Sherlock,” he said, and there might have been grudging respect in his voice. “Look, there’s a pink house.” He looked around. “The only one I can see.”

  “That must be it!” She gripped his arm, and then dropped it immediately, not wanting to seem like a flirty girl.

  “So what do we do now?”

  “I have to think.” She led him into a park that backed on the pink house and sat on a park bench, patting the seat beside her.

  He sat. “What exactly are we trying to find out?”

  “What Venus’s mom knows about Peppy and the other dogs she painted,” she said. As she articulated the plan, she realized it sounded full of holes, but she pushed on. “I don’t know for sure if that one painting was Peppy or not, but she also did pictures of dogfights. I want to find out why.”

  Caden frowned. “I wish you’d told me the plan beforehand. I wouldn’t have come.”

  “But you said you were looking into what happened to the dogs in the woods. I figured you’d want to help them.”

  “Sure, I mean, who doesn’t want to help dogs? But this is stupid. You’re going to, what, walk up to this stranger and ask her, hey, are you involved in dog abuse?”

  “No! I’ll be more subtle.” She frowned. “I’m not saying she’s a criminal or anything. Maybe I just want to see what else she’s painted and if this is in line, or something new. I mean, if she’s an animal rights activist, then maybe the pictures are just generic. But if not...”

  “So you think we should snoop in her house?”

  “No! I don’t believe in breaking and entering.”

  “Could have fooled me.” He grinned, and then she remembered she’d basically broken into the Blue House.

  “I would only do it for a good cause.” Sunny realized that was true. If she had to break into Venus’s mom’s place to help the dogs, she would.

  She was having fun being with Caden like this, casual and fun, not romantic but not not romantic. It was...interesting.

  A woman came out of the little pink cottage and walked toward them, then past them. She was curvy, with long dreadlocks, and she wore a loose, brightly colored dress. “Do you think that’s Venus’s mom?”

  “Could be. Looks like her.”

  “And looks like an artist.”

  “Look, if she’s a famous artist, we could find her online.” Caden pulled out his phone, then frowned. “No service.”

  “I already looked,” Sunny informed him loftily. “But all her art’s behind a firewall. Which, to me, is suspicious. Why wouldn’t she be public about it if she’s trying to sell it?”

  “True. If we’re breaking in, we should go do it before she finishes her errands.” Caden stood and led the way to the pink house, moving stealthily. For the first time, she realized that he must have broken into the Blue House, too, and that he was good at hiding; he’d succeeded in staying away from his family this whole time. “Hey,” she said, “how come your family isn’t looking for you?”

  “Long story. Come on.” He climbed the concrete back steps and tried the door. “Open.” He looked at her. “Are you sure we want to go in?”

  Sunny’s throat felt dry. “Um...no?”

  The door flew open. “That’s a good thing,” came a voice, a man’s, “because you’d get yourself shot that way.”

  Sunny gulped to see a heavyset, muscular man, dressed in gym shorts and a ripped T-shirt. His gun was pointed at them.

  Caden took a big step back, bumping into Sunny, and then they both nearly fell off the steps. “Uh, hi,” he said, “we’re, uh, friends of Venus Jackson.”

  Sunny nudged him. They shouldn’t be giving any identifying details.

  “Yes, and? That somehow gives you the right to walk into our home uninvited?”

  “We weren’t...” Sunny trailed off, because they most certainly had been planning, or at least hoping, to go in.

  The man glared at them. “Stay right there,” he said, then went inside to a landline and placed a call.

  Moments later, the woman they’d identified as Venus’s mother was hurrying toward them. “What’s going on?”

  “They were trying to break in.” The big man had his arms crossed over his chest.

  “We weren’t...we just...”

  “We were looking for more of your pictures of dogs,” Sunny blurted out, figuring that, at this point, it was better to get everything out into the open.

  “How do you even know about those?” The woman crossed her arms.

  “Because...we love dogs?” Caden tried.

  She tilted her head to one side, her lips flat. “Not credible.”

  “Do you know someone who’s abusing dogs?” Sunny asked, and then, when the woman’s face drew up into a frown, she regretted it.

  “Of course not,” Venus’s mother said. “Don’t you think I’d report it? I get my images off the internet.”

  The man came out onto the porch. “You kids get on out of here before I call the police. You’re upsetting her, and she’s sensitive. She’s an artist.”

  “You know my daughter?” the woman asked, her voice softening a little.

  “Yes. She’s a good friend.”

  “Is she all right?”

  Why hadn’t Sunny been up front and just asked Venus to come? “She’s fine. Great.”

  “She’ll get a piece of my mind for telling anyone where I am,” the woman said. “Look, keep my location to yourselves, okay? I’ve gotten harassed for publicizing those dogfighting images. That’s why we’re taking a break, living here for a year.”

  “That’s not their business.” The man put his arm around her. “You kids get on out of here. Scram.” He shooed them away as if they were a couple of annoying flies. That made Sunny mad, and she tried to stand her ground. But the man puffed up threateningly, and almost as a unit she and Caden turned and ran.

  They didn’t stop until they reached the boat. “Get in,” Sunny called, and started the motor.

  Only after they were five minutes out from shore did Sunny’s heart stop pounding double time. At that point, she realized the sea was too choppy for comfort. But they’d make it home; they had to. Because no way could they go back to Teaberry Island.

  * * *

  BY MIDAFTERNOON ON SATURDAY, William had argued with himself long enough, and he couldn’t talk himself out of going to see Bisky.

  She’d avoided him again on Thursday, even though they were working with the teens together. So it was harming the program, because the kids definitely noticed.

  Mostly, though, he wanted to make things up with her.

  He knew he had to leave and go back to his real life. One month of his time here was already almost gone.

  He knew he couldn’t be with Bisky, couldn’t inflict himself on her. But he deeply, deeply regretted hurting her, and he wanted to explain. Maybe they could at least part as friends when his time in Pleasant Shores came to an end.

  He approached her open back door, tapped on the screen, and then looked inside. Bisky was there, and she was walking around fuming. “What do you want?” she snapped.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, something’s wrong. Sunny’s got a doctor’s appointment up the shore, but I can’t find her.” A text came in and she looked at the face of her phone, frowned, and texted back, then looked at him. “That was Kaitlyn. Neither she nor Venus knows where she went. When I find her, I’m going to strangle
her.”

  “You’ve looked all around inside?” Alarm bells were going off inside William.

  “Of course.” She frowned. “So I guess outside is next.” She plowed past him. “You can help, but don’t think that means we’re friends again.”

  That almost made him smile. They walked around the outside of the house and then down to the dock. Bisky hurried faster the closer they got, and then muttered something, sounding angry.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “She took out the boat.” She lifted her hands, palms up. “She knows she’s not supposed to do that without letting me know where she’s going. No way is she going to get back in time for her appointment.”

  “They left about eleven,” Rooker Smits contributed from the next dock. “Told her a storm was coming, but you know kids. She didn’t care. Too busy flirting with her young man.”

  William’s gut tightened as he looked up at dark, low-hanging clouds.

  “Who’d she go with?” Bisky asked.

  Rooker shrugged. “Didn’t recognize him.”

  “Any idea where they were headed?”

  “They went toward Teaberry Island,” Rooker said.

  William’s eyebrows lifted. He’d been there, but it wasn’t exactly close by.

  A gust of wind caught them, and William looked out at the choppy bay. Dread tightened his stomach. If something happened to Sunny... He couldn’t even bear the thought. “She’s good at navigating a boat, right?”

  “Sure, but not...” Bisky broke off and bit her lip, her forehead wrinkling. “Can I take your boat?” she asked Rooker. “She’s probably fine. I’m sure she is.”

  “Take it.” He tossed her the keys.

  “If you know anyone who’s free,” William said to Rooker, “maybe they could come help search.”

  Bisky opened her mouth like she was going to protest, then snapped it shut again and nodded.

  Rooker pulled out a big phone and started pushing buttons, squinting.

  The boat pitched and tossed as Bisky steered it, and a cold wind whipped the hat off William’s head before he could grab it. The temperature was dropping.