“Not what I meant.”
Gavin plunked celery onto the cutting board and slid a knife across it. Several men flocked to the kitchen window, and murmurs rumbled. Seconds later ghostly sounds filled the air, the same ones the men had played off and on since his encounter with Mary at the beach.
“This again?” Gavin asked.
The men elbowed each other and chuckled.
“Lieutenant.” Bryan leaned in. “It’s her. I’m sure of it.”
Something in the boy’s eyes said he wasn’t teasing.
Jimmy waved his hands slowly through the air, making spooky noises. “It’s Maaaarrrryyyy.”
“Here?” Gavin set the knife down. “At the station?”
“On the driveway near the road.” Bryan’s eyes were wide. “Should I ask her in?”
Gavin went to the window, and the men made room for him. The sun had set, and the night sky had a hazy purple glow. He skimmed the landscape.
Tara…
Her feet were on the ground, straddling the bike he rode as a teen. She had on the white dress, and a breeze tousled her blond hair. The sight was unforgettable.
“No.” Gavin turned. “I’ll go to her.”
Jimmy clasped his shoulder. “Did you hire someone to prove to us Mary existed?”
The men chortled.
“Look.” Derrick pointed. “Your mamas are at the corner near the stop sign, watching her.”
The men broke into laughter.
“Do you think they’ve become ghost chasers?” someone asked.
Gavin held up one hand. “Someone man the stir-fry on the stove. I’ll go see what’s up, but let this one be, okay, guys? Turn off the haunted sounds, and act like men with good sense for just a few minutes. Is that too much to ask?” He strode out the front door and walked toward her, his heart pounding like crazy. What was with that?
The Glynn Girls were staying a couple hundred feet back. Did Tara know they were there?
“Hey.” He smiled. “Out for a last evening ride?”
Her focus seemed glued to the open bays of the fire station. “I…need to stay here…on the island.”
She needed to? He glanced at his mamas. “I don’t think—”
Tara looked him directly in the eyes, and even in the growing darkness he could see tears glistening. “Please.”
Beyond her grief he could feel her displeasure at having to be here, her dislike of him. He was a thorn in her flesh. Why couldn’t she see that it was in her best interest to leave with Hadley and Elliott? His mamas’ hearts were in the right place, no doubt. But they were often scattered and forgetful and absolute mischief magnets.
As he thought about her request, he turned a bit, positioning himself so he could see his mamas, the firehouse, and Tara simultaneously. The recording of the “ghost sounds” grew louder, and the raggedy ghost figure they’d dangled over Gavin’s bed now hung out the window, dancing in the wind. Gavin moved again, going to the other side of her, causing her to turn toward the road and away from the station. Would that keep her from becoming aware of the nonsense? “Listen, Tara, I really do think it would be better for you to go back. Give yourself some time to heal physically. Then you could return here in a few months.”
The music grew louder, and the waving of the Mary ghost intensified. If he wasn’t trying to distract Tara’s attention, he’d turn and issue an order—a loud one.
The Glynn Girls rode past Gavin and Tara on bicycles.
“Pardon us.” His mom’s voice was polite, but her face said she was about to have a conniption.
Tara didn’t seem to notice.
Luella and Dell rode into an open bay. His mom and Sue Beth dumped their bikes outside the bay. A moment later he saw Luella pointing a finger at Jimmy, and it took a lot to make Luella lose her cool. Ten seconds later all ghost noises stopped, and soon after, the ghost figure was pulled inside. The bay closed, and he imagined his coworkers were being chewed out by the Glynn Girls.
Hell had no fury like four mama hens…
She stared at the sidewalk. “It’s peak season, and you don’t like that I won’t be able to find a place other than staying with one of your mamas.”
“That’s not the issue.” How could he explain that her willingness to live with strangers in order to stay on an island she had no connections to was indicative of her condition? Or explain that his mamas were scattered and busy? In her condition it wasn’t a safe or healthy way to live. She needed someone looking after her emotional and physical health, and she wasn’t choosing the people who could give her the best care.
“Tara, the best situation for healing and recovery is at home with your friends.”
She put her fist against her chest. “I don’t know why I felt such a need to come to St. Simons after the funeral, but whatever the reason, I’m not finished here. I know that much. Maybe I only need a week or two, but now’s not the right time for me to leave.”
Part of him—the illogical, emotional part—wanted her to stay. He inhaled. “Okay.” What else could he say? It’s a free country, but you can’t stay on my island because…Because what? He had no real reason that would work in her mind, only his.
“Good.” A hint of a smile lifted her lips. “I have to go back and tell Hadley and Elliott as gently and positively as I can that I’m staying, and even so they’ll need to talk to you and the Glynn Girls.”
“Okay, but any of us can reassure them only a certain amount.”
“My promises to them and your word on it to them will be enough.”
What was Gavin agreeing to? And why?
He stifled a sigh. “You’ve got your phone with you, right?”
She nodded.
“I need to see it for a minute.”
“You’re going to track me?”
“I’ll only use that function if no one knows where you are and you aren’t answering texts or calls.”
Her face mirrored disgust with him and maybe hurt. He understood both sentiments. It was an unfair position to be in. She’d gone from being an independent woman, a successful leader of a home, to yielding to a stranger she neither liked nor worked for. There were few things people liked less than having their freedoms curtailed.
“Come on.” She gestured to the bikes near the bay. So she had seen them pass. Had she also been aware of the ghost nonsense and teasing? “Seriously? With the Glynn Girls on watch, I’ll do well to be allowed to shower alone.”
Gavin sighed. “I get it. Still…” He held out his hand. The Glynn Girls worked long hours most days.
She reached into her bra, pulled out the phone, and slapped it against his palm. He went into Settings and allowed her phone to share locations with his so he could ping her phone easily and know right where she was…or at least where her phone was. If she chose to be difficult, he couldn’t do a lot about it.
“You done?” Her voice had an edge to it.
“Almost.” He needed to go into the App Store and download the Find My Friends phone app. He sent a ping from his phone to hers, and then he sent a text from her phone to his and responded to it. Both worked. “All done.” He passed her the phone. “As I said, I’ll only use the Find My Friends feature if all other ways have failed.”
“Then why do I suddenly feel like I’m a child?”
He imagined it was because she felt powerless, but she was in no state of mind to recognize that it wouldn’t always be this way.
* * *
Tara hugged and kissed May and Isla as she buckled each girl into her car seat. The streetlamp and overhead car lights cast a golden glow on the baby’s and the children’s faces. They didn’t look sleepy, but Tara imagined once the lights were off and the car was in motion, they’d be asleep in short order. “I’ll send a picture of somewhere on the island each day to your mom’s phone, so you ask her
about it.”
“Are you going to do selfies, Aunt T?” May asked.
Tara couldn’t imagine pasting on a smile and posing long enough to do a selfie. “I think I should stick to nature, and when you look at the picture, you try to figure out where on the island I was when I took it.”
May smiled and wrapped her little arms around Tara’s neck. “I’m glad you’re better.”
“Me too.” She winked at Isla and waved one more time before closing the door.
Hadley, Elliott, and the Glynn Girls were on the driveway. Tara had asked the Glynn Girls to stand on the driveway with her to reinforce to Hadley and Elliott that she would be well watched this time. Her sister-friends needed all the encouragement they could get in order to drive away without her.
Hadley tackled her with a hug. “I’m praying you find what you’re looking for.”
“Thanks. But either way I’ll be fine this time, Hads.”
Hadley sniffled. “Yeah,” she sighed. “You will.” A minute later Hadley released her. “We love you, T.”
“I know. Who else but sisters, blood related or chosen, would use vacation days to nurse me back to health? And maybe one day I’ll be emotionally strong enough to make it up to you.”
“Just get strong for us, okay?” Hadley took Tara by the shoulders. “You do it for you and all God wants for you in this life, not because you owe us anything.”
Tara nodded. “Thanks.”
Elliott embraced Tara, holding her so tight she could hardly breathe. “I don’t understand your need to stay, but you’ll explain it to me when you get it figured out, right?”
“I will.” Tara held her. Finally she let go. She stood in the driveway, waving until the vehicle was out of sight.
Julep, Luella, Dell, and Sue Beth moved in close to Tara, waving too. It could be a heartwarming snapshot, except she was void of any warmth.
Would this be her life from now on, going through the motions of love for others’ sakes while feeling only sadness and a desire to be left alone?
27
On the sidewalk in front of Blue Sails, Luella smoothed an advertisement against an A-frame poster stand. She looked over it again. Good. Everything listed was correct. The book cover of the new edition of her St. Simons Island guide was splayed across the poster, along with the signing info: “L. Demere HERE at Blue Sails Casual Living starting at 10 a.m. today. Come get the inside scoop about St. Simons Island! Refreshments provided.”
Hopefully it would draw in people walking by as they enjoyed their time on the island. Dell had made lemonade, sweet tea, and cookies, which would be worth it even for nonreaders. The street was certainly busy enough that they should get some walk-ins. Luella had also advertised by placing posters around the island, on her Facebook page and website, in local libraries, and everywhere else she and the Glynn Girls could think of. Like the last signing, all profits would go toward Gavin and Julep’s debt. If only that could be enough. Still, she was glad to help.
She checked her antique watch—only twenty minutes until start time. Would Charles really come? She’d not seen him since she went to the hotel a couple of days ago, but she’d texted with him, telling him that Tara was staying on the island. He responded, saying he’d send for Tara’s luggage, and when it arrived, he’d have an employee drop it off at Blue Sails. It just didn’t feel right to reveal who she was in a text.
Apparently work had kept him busy since he received the call that interrupted them on Wednesday, and she didn’t doubt it would be that way through high season. Running Seaside Properties was a full-time job, and managing the Lighthouse Inn on top of that was just insanity. Still, she hoped he’d show up, because she wanted to see his face when he realized she was the travel writer he had so enjoyed.
“Good day, Ms. Ward.” Chuck’s deep voice startled her.
Wish granted, I suppose. Her face grew warm, but she turned around to face him, offering a smile. “Mr. McKenzie.” This formal greeting seemed to be their thing.
He shifted a briefcase from one hand to the other. “I know I’m a little early. Is L. Demere here yet?”
Luella hoped Charles’s good sense of humor could navigate them through the next few minutes. “Yes, she most definitely is.”
He tilted his head, examining her. Was he onto her already? “Ah, she’s a woman. I wasn’t sure. Her bio on the books leaves it ambiguous.”
“Her publisher said that sometimes helps sales. That was especially true for nonfiction and travel writers two decades ago. Once she built an audience with her pen name, it made little business sense to reveal it.”
“Interesting.”
“Um, come on in.” Luella opened the door to Blue Sails and held it. Although the store wasn’t open yet, she had left the door unlocked so she could return after she set up the sign. After Charles walked in, she locked the door. Not, of course, because she didn’t want to be interrupted while setting the record straight. It just wasn’t time to open yet.
Or so she told herself.
He looked around the shop. “You girls really have this place looking good. Do you mind being called ‘girls’? I usually avoid that word when talking to women. Men don’t like being called ‘boys,’ so I aim to treat both genders equally, but since you’re called the Glynn—”
“It’s fine.” She held up her hand. “No explanation needed. And the credit for the appearance of the store goes to Dell, not me. But I’m sure you aren’t surprised to find that out.”
“I’m not in the least bit surprised at that.”
Dell had set up a large, round table covered with a lavender cloth on which sat an oversize glass pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade and ice, with lemon slices inside for garnish. Clear plastic cups for the lemonade and piles of book-shaped sugar cookies awaited customers. Dell’s creations looked as nice as if a bakery had made them.
Luella walked around the table she and Dell had set up for signing books, drumming her fingers. She took a seat in the tall, upholstered antique chair. She felt his eyes on her but didn’t look up from her books. She picked up a copy of the St. Simons guide, opened it to the first page, and signed it L. Demere.
“Wait a minute.” He laughed, a booming sound that she was sure the other girls could hear from the kitchen and the upstairs art studios. “You’re serious?” He beamed at her, face red as he laughed.
She held out her hand to him. “Hi. I’m Luella Demere Ward, also known as—”
“L. Demere.” He picked up a book and read the back-cover copy, which included a bio worded to hide her gender while instilling a sense of confidence in her knowledge. “Okay, okay.” He shook his head. “You got me. You win. Now I’m surprised.”
She rather liked his caught-off-guard laugh. She took the book from him, still grinning as she waved the pen. “It’s Chuck, right?”
“I think I prefer Mr. McKenzie.”
“Chuck it is.” She signed “To Chuck” with a flourish, closed the book, and handed it to him.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Actually, I changed my mind.” She snatched the book back. “We don’t need your money on principle.”
“But you’re willing to change your mind if I let you rent the new shop, eh?”
He was sharp and a good sport. How could she keep their game going?
She tapped the book against her palm. “I think that’s fair. And since we have an agreement, here’s your book.” She handed it to him. “I’m just teasing of course. Please take this copy as a gift. And I feel a bit guilty that I didn’t clarify before now. I was going to tell you, but we got interrupted.”
“Sure you were.” But he was smiling. “I have something else I was hoping L. Demere would sign.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out a worn paperback.
“Well, I swanee. That’s one of my first guides!” She accepted the boo
k.
“What’s a swanee?”
She sat up straighter and fanned herself with her hand like a true Southern woman. “Dear sir.” She batted her eyes and deepened her accent. “You would not have a real lady say the word swear, would you?” She lowered her hand and smiled. “At least that’s what my grandmother told me that word meant. Please don’t ask me to share what the words dadgum and dagnabbit replace, or I shall have to faint.”
He grinned, shaking his head.
She returned her attention to the book in hand. “This is crazy.” She eased her fingers over the front cover before turning it over. “Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, birthplace of flight.” This took her back to her start as a travel author. At the time she hadn’t been sure if she could make a living this way, but traveling and writing stirred her heart more than anything else ever had. “My friends married young, and I needed roommates in order to travel and write at will. When not on the road, I spent years sharing a tiny apartment with three or four people at a time.” She chuckled. “I was much easier to get along with back then, but it was hard work keeping the peace with most of those roommates. Still, I considered it a small price to pay.”
“I have to agree.” He leaned over to tap the cover of the book in her hands. “After reading your guide, I took my kids there. It was an amazing trip. No stress, because the guide covered everything in an easy-to-follow format. We made wonderful memories that we reminisce about to this day. That was the beginning of my buying every travel guide by L. Demere.”
She was the cause of some of his favorite memories? “I…I’m speechless.”
“I’d like to bottle that and use it at will.”
She laughed. “I bet you would.”
He touched the cover again. “I feel a bit silly asking now that I know the author is you, but would you sign it?”
“I’d be honored.” This time she wrote “To Charles and family,” along with one of her favorite quotes about the dunes that made Kitty Hawk famous. She returned his book, and he held it in one hand.
As the Tide Comes In Page 22
