She shook her head slightly, trying to shake these thoughts from her mind.
“What will you do now?” Erin asked, both anticipating and dreading the answer.
Burke paused, fork halfway to his mouth, and stared at her. She could see the question bothered him. Perhaps he hadn’t given any thought to what came next.
“I—” he started, then stopped. Kitt looked up from his plate and focused on his uncle.
“I don’t know,” Burke admitted. “I guess...maybe I should try to talk to Tess?”
Erin frowned, uncertain about this proposed course of action. “You could try...but what if she doesn’t want to talk to you?” She was ashamed the moment the words left her month. Not so much because of how they might be received but because she spoke them for selfish reasons. She didn’t want Burke to speak with Tessa. And she felt horrible for experiencing a certain sort of gladness at the split in their relationship. She spoke again, trying to repair the suggestion. “Or, I don’t know, maybe you should give her some time?”
Burke didn’t respond. Erin poked at her pancakes, her appetite lost. There was a greater issue at hand here. Erin had invited Burke to spend the night at the B&B, at Aunt Lenora’s urging. But she had assumed it would be only that—one night. It wasn’t until the light of day that she remembered—Burke had sold the boat he’d kept berthed at the marina. That’s where he’d been living for the last year and a half since he’d returned to Findlay Roads. The plan had been for him to move in with Tessa after the wedding, so he’d sold the boat last week and had spent the last two days before the wedding staying in a hotel suite at the Delphine. But where did he plan to live now?
As if her son had read her mind, Kitt spoke up with a suggestion. “You could stay here.”
Erin raised her head sharply. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Burke did the same. She wasn’t sure which stunned her more—Kitt’s suggestion or the fact that he’d spoken at all. He kept so much to himself that Erin had grown used to his silence. The sound of his voice often startled her. It was changing, losing some of its baby lisp and becoming more enunciated. But the fact that Kitt might want Burke to keep staying at the inn was the most shocking thing of all.
“Kitt, I’m not sure—” Erin began and was quickly silenced by Aunt Lenora’s imposing voice.
“Of course he’s staying here.”
For the second time in the last sixty seconds, Erin and Burke’s heads swiveled in unison. Aunt Lenora stood in the doorway, a worn terrycloth robe wrapped around her thin frame.
“This is his home.”
It had been, long ago. But Erin had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out how few were the times that Burke had actually stepped through the inn’s doors in the years since he’d left.
“Aunt Lenora, I can’t stay,” Burke said.
Erin’s shoulders sagged in relief, grateful that Burke knew this was no longer his home.
Aunt Lenora waved a hand in dismissal. “Of course you can. So you’ve been jilted. That’s no reason to tuck your tail between your legs and run.”
The old woman shuffled toward the table. Erin noted that Kitt was grinning and her jaw nearly dropped. Kitt’s grins were even rarer than the sound of his voice. Overcoming her shock at her son’s expression, she looked to Burke, waiting for him to shoot down Aunt Lenora’s idea. To her consternation, he seemed to be considering.
“But where would he stay?” Erin asked.
Aunt Lenora began stacking pancakes on a plate. “In the Galway Room, where else? It’s his old bedroom, after all.”
“But what if you need that room for a booking?”
Aunt Lenora took a seat at the table, her movements slow and deliberate. She arched one gray eyebrow at Erin.
Erin dropped her head from the piercing gaze. Even without using words, Aunt Lenora made her point. The inn’s business had dropped dramatically in the last year, ever since the Delphine resort had opened up nearby. While summer was usually the Moontide’s busiest season, they had fewer than half the stays on the books than they normally did, and the autumn and winter months had been stagnant.
Tourism, especially in the summer months, made up a large portion of the town’s economy. Last year, Findlay Roads had been busier than ever. The Delphine had been booked solid nearly all summer long, and tellingly, most of the business the Moontide had snagged had come from couples and families who were unable to get a room at the resort. This summer wasn’t shaping up to be any better. It was unlikely the inn was suddenly going to have a flood of bookings, so there was no need to worry about Burke taking up one of the rooms.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Erin said in a desperate attempt to sway the way things were going.
Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at her, and she fought a blush of embarrassment. She didn’t want to seem inhospitable, but the last thing she needed was Burke living in such close proximity, under the same roof as her.
“I—I mean, it’s just that, Burke has a lot to figure out now, and I’m sure he needs his space and, well...and...” She ran out of steam, floundering.
“No, Erin’s right.”
She relaxed once more as Burke spoke.
“It’s probably not a good idea. I can find a hotel outside of town or something. It’s probably better that way. There’s less chance of running into Tessa.”
The table fell silent. The quiet was so deafening that Erin squirmed. Burke was staring down at his empty plate, and Erin felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t want him here. But she didn’t want him bunking at a hotel either.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Kitt frowning. Aunt Lenora stood to her feet, drawing everyone’s attention.
“You both are being ridiculous. Burke has nowhere to go, and we have an inn full of empty rooms. He’s staying here. And that’s final.”
Aunt Lenora’s announcement silenced any further protestations. Erin didn’t like it, but while it was her home, she didn’t own it and had little say about who stayed and who didn’t. Aunt Lenora had raised both Gavin and Burke in their teenage years. After losing Gavin, it would make perfect sense that the old woman might want Burke to stay.
But it didn’t change Erin’s feelings on the matter.
She stood to her feet, picked up her half-eaten plate of pancakes and carried it to the sink.
“I better get going,” she announced. “Kitt, behave for Aunt Lenora.” She didn’t really need to caution Kitt to behave, but she said it anyway.
Burke frowned. “Go where?”
Erin said nothing. She exited the room, pretending as though she hadn’t heard, and left it to Aunt Lenora to answer him if she chose.
CHAPTER THREE
BURKE WATCHED ERIN LEAVE, disappointed by her abrupt departure. It was obvious she didn’t want him here. The feeling was mutual. He’d never felt at home at the Moontide. But as much as he didn’t want to remain at the B&B, he knew he didn’t have the luxury of rejecting Aunt Lenora’s offer. He still had a relatively steady income from royalties of his photos, as well as a series of travel books he was contributing to. Yet he was by no means wealthy, and so he needed to get back to work at some point.
He’d pushed off any jobs in order to stay in Findlay Roads and plan the wedding. He and Tessa had agreed that he could maybe start traveling again in the autumn, after their wedding and honeymoon and after they’d settled into a marital routine.
He’d sold the boat that he’d called home for the last year and a half, which left him effectively homeless. As much as he loathed being at the Moontide for more than a night or two, it looked like he’d have to accept Aunt Lenora’s suggestion and remain there for a bit longer. He had to regroup and determine what to do next.
“I’m glad you’ve decided to stay.”
Burke looked to Aunt Lenora. She’d resumed her seat and was cutting daintily into
a small stack of pancakes.
Burke hesitated. As much as he appreciated her generosity and had no choice but take her up on her offer, he still hated doing so.
“Aunt Lenora, I don’t want to put you out. Maybe Erin’s right, what if you need the room?”
Aunt Lenora snorted. “Have you taken a look at the guest register? There haven’t been any new bookings in three weeks.” The old woman slid a glance at Kitt and frowned. “My feet are cold. Kitt, would you be a dear and go fetch me my slippers?”
Kitt looked from Lenora to Burke and back again. Then, without a word, he stood and left the room. Aunt Lenora waited until he was gone before she spoke again.
“Erin tries too hard,” she suddenly declared.
Burke shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”
Aunt Lenora reached for the syrup bottle. “She’s been trying to drum up business. The local book club meets here once a month. They used to go to the library, but when they started complaining it was too drafty, she offered them use of the inn instead...for a nominal fee that includes scones and tea.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Burke said, uneasy about where the conversation was headed.
Aunt Lenora shook her head. “She quit her job, at Callahan’s.”
“I know.”
She continued shaking her head. “That young chef who owns it, Connor...he was sorry to see her go. Told her she was welcome back any time.”
Burke didn’t speak. Aunt Lenora obviously had something on her mind, and he figured he’d just have to wait for her to reach her point. He’d witnessed it a time or two in the past—when she had something to share, she rambled on with steadfast determination until she reached her conclusion.
“I worry that she spends too much of her time here. With me and Kitt. She should go out more.”
“Well, where did she go just now?”
Aunt Lenora looked sad. “To the lighthouse. She goes there to feel closer to him.”
Burke leaned back in his chair. “Him?”
“Gavin.”
“Oh.” Burke felt the familiar tug of grief...and shame. He cleared his throat. “Why the lighthouse?”
Aunt Lenora shrugged. “You’d have to ask her.”
Burke didn’t reply even as the conversation faded into silence. Aunt Lenora worked her way through her pancakes while Burke sipped his coffee. He had a feeling the old woman wasn’t finished, and his suspicions were confirmed a second later when she spoke up once more.
“You should talk to her.”
“Me? Why? What would I say?”
“Tell her not to worry so much about me, or the inn. Tell her it’s okay to go out, to be with other people, to be...happy again.”
Burke wasn’t exactly comfortable with this directive, but before he could formulate a response, Aunt Lenora switched topics.
“And how about you? Have you heard from Tessa?”
The reminder of his runaway bride pierced his pride. “No,” he admitted. “I haven’t.” He’d checked his phone before heading downstairs for breakfast. There had been several texts, expressing sympathy, including one from Harper, Tessa’s sister. But nothing from his fiancée. No texts of explanation. No voicemails saying she was sorry or offering an explanation. Only silence.
“Then you’ll stay.”
“Aunt Lenora, I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
She ignored him.
“I can pay you, if it helps, since your bookings are down—”
“You can work for your keep.”
Aunt Lenora knew him too well. When he’d first come to live with her, at fourteen, he was already scarred by too many relatives who made him and Gavin feel like a burden. He didn’t appreciate handouts, couldn’t abide feeling indebted to others. By offering him the option to work for his room and board, she’d eliminated one of his strongest objections.
And he couldn’t share the other one with her.
“I don’t know,” he hedged, still trying to find a way out. “Maybe it would be better if I just left town. I mean, with Tessa here and all...”
Aunt Lenora made a face. “You cannot run forever.” Just then, Kitt reentered the kitchen, carrying a pair of fuzzy slippers. He took them to Aunt Lenora and without a word, placed them at her feet where she could easily slide her toes inside.
“Thank you, Kitt.” She patted his hand and met Burke’s gaze. “You know, there’s some drywall that needs replaced in the upstairs hallway. I think your uncle Burke planned to work on that this afternoon. Perhaps you could help him?”
The little boy’s gaze flitted to Burke, his eyes lighting with joy. There was no way he could say no to Aunt Lenora, or Kitt, now.
But he couldn’t stay forever. His conscience would never allow it.
* * *
THE BREEZE OFF the bay whipped the flag that sat next to the lighthouse. Erin listened to the fabric snapping in the wind and imagined it was Gavin, his spirit reminding her he was nearby. She wasn’t sure she believed that, but sometimes, just the thought of him watching over her was enough to get her through the day.
She shifted, settling more comfortably on the bench that offered a magnificent view of the water, and started her weekly conversation.
“So, you’ll never believe what happened yesterday. Tessa stood Burke up at their wedding.”
It had felt strange, at first, speaking aloud when she was all by herself. She refrained if there were others nearby, but she’d learned that during this particular time of the day, on Sunday mornings, the lighthouse grounds were usually pretty empty. So this had became her time, the time she spent with Gavin.
“Burke stayed at the inn last night. Aunt Lenora insisted.” Erin bit her lip, uncertain how much of her thoughts she wanted to voice aloud. “And now she’s invited him to stay for as long as he needs, until he can figure things out. I wish she hadn’t. I don’t want him living there. He’s never liked the Moontide.” She felt a ripple of guilt for such uncharitable thoughts. “I know he doesn’t have anywhere else to go, but it just seems...wrong, somehow. To have him there when you’re...not.”
She sighed and paused in her one-sided conversation to watch a seagull swoop down over the water.
She didn’t know how to express it. Or rather, didn’t want to speak aloud the real reasons Burke’s presence made her uneasy. She might have been talking to the air, but on some level, a small part of her believed Gavin could hear her. And she wasn’t willing to share her secret with him. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.
“Sometimes, I think I’m a terrible person,” she whispered into the wind. “Burke just lost the woman he loves, and now he has nowhere to live. It makes sense for him to stay at the Moontide.”
But his presence is a reminder of my guilt.
She cleared her throat and fell silent as she noticed an older couple shuffling along the brick path that wrapped around the lighthouse. They were both hunched over slightly, their arms threaded tightly together as they moved along.
Her heart ached. That was supposed to have been her and Gavin, growing old together, spending Sunday mornings walking beside the lighthouse. That had been the plan. There had never been any question that Findlay Roads was where they’d make their home after Gavin was finished with the army. It was here that they both had found peace after years of moving around the country—her as a military brat before her mom had settled her in Findlay Roads while she was still in the middle of high school and Gavin being shuffled between family members after his parents’ death. They’d wanted to raise Kitt there, to have him know the stability and relationships they had missed as a child.
So much for that, Erin thought bitterly. All because one person had one drink too many and decided he wasn’t too drunk to drive. It was no consolation that the man responsible for taking Gavin’s life was serving a five-year prison se
ntence for vehicular homicide.
Erin didn’t want revenge for what had happened. She wanted Gavin back. And nothing in the world could make up for the ocean of tears she’d cried nor the sadness that still resided in her son’s eyes.
“It should be you,” she spoke aloud, now that the older couple had moved beyond earshot. “It should be you, living at the Moontide. Not Burke.”
But deep down she wondered if this was fate’s way of punishing her for the past.
* * *
BURKE USED A utility knife to cut carefully into the drywall surrounding the crack Aunt Lenora had pointed out in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He felt Kitt at his side, though the little boy didn’t say a word. But he huddled close, and Burke sensed the child’s gaze fastened on his movements. He finished cutting and pulled away the drywall paper to begin chipping at the compound underneath. Kitt leaned in so close that Burke could feel the little boy’s breath on his chin.
“You want to give it a try?”
Kitt jerked back in surprise at being addressed.
“It’s not hard,” Burke assured. “Watch.” He demonstrated how to use a drywall knife to scrape off any loose debris then held the handle toward Kitt.
The little boy took it and edged in closer, tongue tucked between his lips, as he awkwardly tackled the repair Burke had started. His attempts to scrape the loose compound free resulted in a few more nicks to the wall.
“Here, like this.” Burke took the smaller hand in his and helped guide the blade along the wall, loosening a spray of debris.
“There you go.” He removed his hand and let Kitt have another try.
The little boy moved slower this time but with more precision and after another minute, Burke moved away to get the drywall compound for the next step in the process. By the time he sat back down on the bedroom floor, Kitt had done a decent job of clearing the surface.
“Not bad,” he declared. “Maybe we should go into business. Daniels and Daniels Drywalling. It has a nice ring to it.”
Kitt didn’t say anything, but the grin he flashed was the biggest Burke had seen yet from his nephew.
The Way Back to Erin Page 3
