by Nina Croft
When the bus pulled up in Saddler Cove, his heart was beating fast and his hands were clammy. He wiped them on his pants leg, then picked up his duffel and shuffled down the aisle. The bus was almost empty now, nearly at the end of the line. It seemed fitting.
It was late afternoon, but all the same the warmth hit him as he stepped onto the concrete parking lot. The town was small, Tanner had warned him of that. Josh had lived in the city before, except for the years in Nam, and that had hardly endeared him to the countryside. They’d driven through the town to the bus depot. It had taken five minutes. Low-rise buildings on either side of a wide road. It looked clean and pretty, with lots of green areas. Far off, the way they had come, he could see a backdrop of mountains. He breathed in the air, clean and fresh with a hint of salt. They were close to the ocean. He’d never actually seen the ocean.
He glanced around, and his gaze locked on the tall figure strolling toward him. Dressed in jeans, scuffed boots, a white tee that showed off his tats, Tanner looked nothing like a prosperous business owner and everything like a badass ex-con. Maybe he’d lied about the job. But whatever, the parole board had believed him, and that’s what mattered.
Tanner stopped in front of him, and a wide grin spread across his face. It was weird seeing Tanner smile. He wasn’t the smiley type. More the miserable bastard type. They stared at each other for long moments. Josh had never believed this day would come. That was how he’d survived the years inside. By leaving hope behind. A long way behind. And now he didn’t know what to feel.
“It’s good to see you here,” Tanner said.
“Shit. Don’t go all mushy on me, man.”
“Fuck you. Not a chance.” He grabbed the duffel from Josh—did he think he was too old to carry his own bag—but was moving away before Josh could complain, and he followed in a brisk walk. There were a few other people around who invariably followed their movements in a surreptitious way. As though they didn’t like what they were seeing, but were too polite to be openly antagonistic. Josh could live with that—he didn’t give a toss what they thought as long as they kept it to themselves.
Tanner led the way along the sidewalk, past a diner that promised all-day breakfast—as much as you could eat for five dollars. Josh had precisely one hundred and six dollars to show for a lifetime of hard labor. Five dollars for breakfast seemed excessive.
Finally, Tanner headed down an alley. He stopped at a dark blue door, pulled the keys out of his pocket, and let them into a hallway with a narrow staircase.
“This apartment came with the showroom and garage,” he said. “I’ve been using it, but it’s yours for as long as you need it.”
“I’ve kicked you out of your own home?”
“Yeah, you bastard.” Tanner headed up the stairs as he continued. “I’m moving in with my brothers.”
At the top of the stairs, he unlocked another door and led the way into a big living area. Josh dropped his jacket on a chair and crossed the room to stare out of the wide bay window. It looked out onto the street. And he stared for long minutes. Too much. He didn’t know what to do with all this space, and his heart rate sped up again.
He’d wait until he was left alone and then he was off. Tanner could have his place back. This wasn’t for him.
He turned as Tanner shoved a beer into his hand, and he wrapped his fingers around the icy bottle.
“Welcome to Saddler Cove,” Tanner said, raising his own bottle. “Don’t even think about walking out without talking to me first.”
For a moment he couldn’t move, then he slowly lifted the bottle to his mouth. The beer was cold and delicious, and he drank half in one gulp. And some of the tension drained out of him. He tossed Tanner a wry look. “‘Get busy living or get busy dying.’ Is that what you’re suggesting?” It was a game they’d played in their cell at night. Identifying quotes from their favorite books.
Tanner grinned. “Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption—very fitting. And that’s exactly what I mean.” He emptied his beer and put the bottle down on the table. “Come on, you can get settled in later. Right now, I want to show you something.”
“What?”
“Wait and see.”
He followed Tanner out and back down to the alley that ran alongside the building. At the far end, a shiny black truck was parked, O’Connor Bros printed on the side in silver. Tanner climbed into the driver’s seat, leaned over, and pushed open the passenger door.
“You’ve done well for yourself,” Josh said as he got in. The truck looked new.
“Remember, my daddy died?”
“Yeah.”
“It was an accident at work. We got compensation in exchange for keeping our mouths shut. We used that to buy the business.”
“An asshole would have frittered it away on booze and women.”
He grinned. “I did a bit of that when I got out. But it grows old quickly.”
With the grin, Tanner looked younger now than he had when he’d gotten released. Tanner hadn’t taken the time inside well. Some people didn’t. Too independent and stubborn. Hell, it had taken Josh fifteen years before he’d accepted that it was his life. And he’d spent a hell of a lot of that fifteen years in solitary. It had been a learning experience. There was no such thing as easy time, but there was definitely harder time.
They drove through the town. At one point, Tanner slowed the truck as they passed a woman walking along the sidewalk. Small and pretty, in a navy-blue dress, she glanced at the truck and then looked quickly away.
“Friend of yours?” he asked Tanner.
“Hardly. Emily Towson, the town’s first-grade teacher. A good woman. Far too good for the likes of me.”
There was no bitterness behind the words, just a wry acceptance of the way things were. And maybe he was right. Why try and fight the system? It always won.
They were out of town now, driving along a dirt road that wound along the edge of a creek, flat blue water, hardly moving.
Where the hell were they going?
Finally, Tanner pulled the truck to a halt and parked, turned off the engine. “The first day I got out, I came here. It helped.”
Josh sat staring ahead. They were parked in the shadow of a huge sand dune. “Where exactly is here?”
Tanner waved a hand. “Follow that path. You’ll see.” He pulled a book out of the side panel—a paperback copy of Don Quixote. “Take as long as you want. I’ll be waiting here.”
For a moment, he considered arguing, but he was programmed to take the course of least resistance, and he opened the door and jumped down from the cab.
He stood, breathing slowly, unable to shake the sense of futility. In the early years, he’d often imagined this day. Dreamed of how it would feel to be free. But as the years passed, the dreams had come less frequently, until one day he’d stopped dreaming altogether.
Dreams were for people with hope. People with a future.
He had neither.
Tanner banged on the truck window. “Go,” he mouthed.
Josh shrugged but headed off. It wasn’t as though he had anything else to do.
He’d have been better off if they’d never let him go. If he’d died in prison. At least there he wouldn’t be tormented by all the things he would never have. A home, a wife, children. Before he’d joined the army, he’d had the same dreams and hopes as other men.
All long gone. Nothing but a distant memory.
It was cooler now, a slight breeze brushing against his skin. And the salt tang was stronger. He rolled up his sleeves as he headed down the track Tanner had pointed to. It skirted the edge of a sand dune. And as he came around the other side, his feet faltered. The ocean was in front of him, as far as he could see. Huge and empty and endless, lined by a pale-yellow beach that went on for miles with no one in sight. Waves rolled in from the sea, curling and cresting and crashing on to the sand with a constant roar that filled his ears.
So vast.
The sight filled him with an
awareness of his own insignificance. Like he was nothing, a speck of sand that would soon be washed away. His chest felt hollow, empty, and his eyes ached.
He moved slowly forward, his feet hesitant at first. But something was drawing him on, and soon he was walking faster, then running, racing along the sand at the edge of the ocean. He couldn’t remember the last time he had run. Finally, when his legs ached, he slowed and stopped, turning to face the immensity of the ocean. He was alone and free. His eyes stung, and he rubbed them with the back of his hand. Too much salt spray in the air? That was it. He never cried, at least he couldn’t remember the last time. Certainly not since he’d killed a man.
At the thought, something inside him snapped, and he crashed to his knees, a cry ripped from his throat. And he knelt there, as though in prayer, his body wracked by sobs. He didn’t know what he was crying for: the life he’d taken or the one he had lost. Or maybe the one that might be his. If he could dredge up the courage to accept what had been offered.
Was he brave enough to overcome his fears? To dream again?
Finally, the tears dried, and he shifted so he sat on the soft sand, watching the ebb and flow of the waves.
He had never understood why Tanner had insisted on coming back to the town that had treated him so badly. Now he could see.
He stayed for a long time, not thinking, just being, until the sun disappeared in a blaze of crimson, and a huge heavy moon was rising over the horizon.
Then he pushed himself to his feet and headed back the way he had come. He was going to come back and swim in the ocean. Submerge himself in the water.
For the first time he could remember, he thought there might be some things worth living for.
He’d give it a go.
Chapter Eight
Emily took a gulp of punch from her plastic tumbler and wished she’d not agreed to come. She’d gotten the invite from Susanne Defray, who’d been her best friend in high school, even if they had drifted apart a little now. Susanne had married a man from Richmond when she was twenty. Now she was back home and divorced, though thankfully—she said—without children. She was going to make up for lost time. She’d said there was a whole group of them going to the Founders’ Parade and the dance afterward together. That it would be fun. Unfortunately, the obvious organizers of the group were Susanne’s cousin, Lanie Dean, and her husband, Sawyer. Emily had never really liked Sawyer.
Maybe because he’d supposedly been Tanner’s best friend back when he got into trouble, and Sawyer hadn’t stuck around long enough to even say goodbye. At the time, Emily had been deep in her Tanner crush—completely gone now, of course—and she’d seen Sawyer’s act as a cruel betrayal. He’d abandoned his friend when he needed him the most. Apparently, Sawyer had left town the afternoon before the accident and hadn’t turned back up until Tanner was convicted and carted off to prison. Staying with his uncle in Richmond.
And it just didn’t ring true to Emily. Him, Tanner, and Dwain had always been thick as thieves, always together. And why would Sawyer have left town then, in the middle of graduation week? It didn’t make sense. And Sawyer had already been in trouble for drunk driving, which made his disappearance out of town just a little convenient. But no one else had ever questioned it, and Sawyer had never even been called at the trial. A travesty of justice, she’d considered, but she’d been sixteen at the time, and no one was listening to her.
These days, Sawyer was still drinking too much. He was the sort of guy you never saw totally drunk, but often not quite sober. And she could see Lanie throwing him dark glances every so often. But Sawyer wasn’t the problem. How had she forgotten that Lanie was Ryan’s cousin? Which of course meant he was part of the group. And everyone was treating them as if they were still a couple. Even Ryan. Especially Ryan.
Even if he hadn’t asked her to marry him, she would have finished with him anyway. How could she go out with one man and sleep with another?
Okay, maybe not sleep. Definitely not sleep.
But Ryan was totally ignoring the fact that they were finished. Just pretending it hadn’t happened. And it was driving her crazy. He was at her side now, so close he kept bumping arms as he drank. She edged away, and he followed her right along.
“You look beautiful tonight.”
She gritted her teeth. Unfortunately, she’d been brought up far too well to ignore him. “Thank you, Ryan. You look nice as well.”
Where was Mimi? Maybe she could get a lift home. Ryan had picked her up and driven her here—that was when she’d realized the evening was on a fast downhill slope to Horribleville.
Mimi had ridden her stallion, Frankie, in the parade and then afterward gone to dinner with a couple of friends and claimed that she didn’t want Emily cramping her style. That was a low blow. But Mimi reckoned she’d been a complete wet blanket for weeks. Three weeks exactly, to be precise. It was exactly three weeks since she’d crept back into the house, so Mimi wouldn’t catch her coming home covered in grease and completely without underwear.
Mimi said she should go out and have fun.
Grr. She didn’t want to have fun. She didn’t want to think about having fun. And she certainly didn’t want to think about the last time she’d had fun—if that was the right word to describe her one-night stand with Tanner.
Lanie approached at that moment. “We’re all heading over to the dance now,” she said with a tight, brittle smile. There were whispers around town that her and Sawyer’s marriage was in trouble.
“I’m feeling a little tired. I might go see if I can find my grandmother and get a lift home.”
“No, you must come. Just for a short while.”
Had Ryan put her up to this? Probably.
Lanie hooked her arm in Emily’s, and she was towed along. She really did want to go home. She didn’t feel right. Listless, she hadn’t been sleeping well since…that night. But she didn’t want to offend Lanie, and in the end, it was easier to just give in.
The dance was in the town square. Lights had been strung all around and a podium set up at the far side, where the band would play. They were getting ready now, setting up their instruments, three guys and a woman. They’d played at the Founders’ Celebrations dance for the last three years.
She edged away from Ryan and crossed to where Susanne stood tapping her feet to the music coming over the speakers while the band set up.
“Can I ask you something?” Emily said.
“What is it?”
“Who asked you to ask me tonight?”
“Lanie.”
“But I hardly know Lanie.” They didn’t move in the same circles. Lanie was a couple of years older and a stay-at-home mom.
Susanne moved closer. “Between you and me, honey, I think Ryan put her up to it. I think he wants to get back together with you. And you were such a nice couple. Why not give him another chance? Whatever he did wrong, I’m sure he’s sorry.” She quirked a brow. “What did he do, anyway?”
What was she supposed to say—he asked me to marry him? Susanne would probably think she was mad. Turning down Saddler Cove’s most eligible bachelor. Or maybe not. Susanne was a little anti-marriage at the moment. All men were apparently cheating, lying bastards. Only good for one thing. “We just weren’t suited.”
“Well, clearly Ryan doesn’t agree.”
She shrugged. “He’ll find someone else.” Or he would if he would stop staring at her. It was creepy. She turned away and went still.
The square was filling up. But a group of four men stood off to one side. Separate as though the rest of the population were giving them a wide berth. With a little shock of surprise, she recognized the O’Connor brothers, together with a tall, black man, taller even than the brothers, with a long lanky frame. Handsome, almost distinguished, she couldn’t tell his age; it could have been anything from fifty to seventy.
Susanne edged closer and whispered in her ear. “Is that the man they’ve employed at O’Connor’s? I heard he was some sort of seri
al killer who’s been in prison all his life and is likely to murder all us innocent folk in our beds.”
“And no doubt torture us and eat our babies. You shouldn’t listen to gossip. Anyway, I’m sure the O’Connors wouldn’t employ anyone dangerous.”
“Are you serious? The O’Connors are dangerous.” Susanne sounded as though the idea didn’t put her off in the least. But then, she’d been married for four years to an insurance salesman whose idea of a fun Saturday night was watching a ballgame on TV. Probably Susanne was more than ready for a little danger. Or a lot of danger.
The tall man said something to Tanner and then he turned and walked away, heading back toward the garage. She’d heard that he was staying in Tanner’s place while Tanner had moved back home.
“They’re something else, aren’t they?” Susanne’s voice was laced with longing.
The three men were talking together, huddled in a little group, and for a moment she allowed herself to stare. They seemed almost alien, something apart from the people of Saddler Cove. But with an air of confidence and ease as though they knew they didn’t belong and didn’t care. Was that true, or was that something they’d fostered? Aiden, the youngest, had been in her year in high school. She remembered him being teased because his dad was a drunk and his clothes were never quite right. Though no one had ever touched him, because then they might have incurred the wrath of his big brothers, and no one had wanted that. They’d had reputations even then.
A bottle of beer dangled from Tanner’s hand. He lifted it to his lips, and she watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed. He was dressed the same as the night in the garage, in faded jeans that hung low on his hips and a white tank, but at least it was clean tonight. His hair was loose, not quite reaching his shoulders. She remembered the feel of it under her fingers as she’d gripped onto him while he…
