Mistaken

by Karen Barnett

  Laurie slipped into the driver’s seat. “I think we understand each other.”

  He leaned against the automobile. “I actually don’t like oysters, much, myself.” His voice softened.

  She stared at his hands, resting on the top rim of the door. If only. “Me, either.”

  The tires slithered through the mire as she backed out into the night. She wanted to get as much distance between her and her brother’s mistakes as she could before dawn.

  As the taillights disappeared into the night, Daniel shook himself. Johnny’s kid sister had sure grown into a beautiful young woman. A shame she’d fallen in with rumrunners. Johnny, too, most likely.

  He reached into his pocket and touched the coin he kept as a reminder of his past. He certainly couldn’t cast any stones at the Burke family.

  Welcome home, Daniel.

  Blowing on his hands to warm them, Daniel turned toward his own automobile. He didn’t relish getting back on that rutted, twisty road. Late night deliveries from the drugstore had never been a problem in Seattle, but out here in the sticks, it was a different story. Next time, he’d take Granddad’s advice and tell them to wait until morning.

  Daniel shook the moisture from his coat before climbing in the driver’s seat. The rain had finally stopped and the sky lightened toward dawn. He stretched his arms up over his head. The long night had not been a complete waste. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the all-too-brief smile on Laurie Burke’s face. Oysters. No one went to Crescent Beach for oysters. But, it definitely had natural beauty—even in the dark of night.

  Johnny Burke’s little sister. Maybe there’s some hope for this old town, after all.

  He reached down and switched on the ignition. The engine rumbled in response. Throwing one arm across the back of the seat, he eased the car backward onto the highway. When he turned forward once more, he paused. The headlamps cut a path through the dark night, exposing a car hidden in the brush, a shadowy figure reclining behind the wheel.

  Daniel shook his head as he drove away. Apparently he and Miss Burke had not been alone, after all.

  2

  Laurie! You did it—you got your hair bobbed!” Anne-Marie’s shrill voice cut through the bright office.

  Laurie stood on tiptoes as she tucked her bag up on the shelf above the coat rack, wincing as the stiff muscles in her neck complained. The headache had started behind her eyes during the long drive from the beach, but now it seemed to have spread throughout her body. Maybe she’d stop at Larson’s Drugs after work and pick up some headache powders.

  Anne-Marie and Susan swept into the coatroom, rushing at Laurie with wide smiles.

  “Let me look at you.” Anne-Marie reached out to touch Laurie’s finger waves. “Don’t you just love it? Oh, wait—let me see it with the hat.” She pulled Laurie’s cloche off the hook and plopped it on her head.

  Laurie dug her toes into her shoes and waited while the young women fluttered around her.

  “It’s perfect, Laurie. Did Amelia cut it for you?” Susan glanced back at the workstations.

  “Do you think she’d do mine, too?” Anne-Marie fingered a wisp of her strawberry blonde hair. “My mother will simply kill me.” Her laugh bounced off the walls of the small room. “But I am an adult, after all.”

  The mention of mothers jabbed at Laurie’s heart. She removed the hat, gripping the narrow, turned-down brim. “Well, at least I don’t have to ask anyone’s permission.”

  Anne-Marie’s eyes widened. “What did your father say?”

  Laurie ran her hand over her hair, checking the waves. “He thought it looked very smart.” She hung the hat back on the hook. More like, “Watch your smart mouth.” Laurie strode to her workstation.

  Susan hurried to catch up with her. “Your hair looks adorable, Laurie, but the rest of you?” She clucked her tongue. “What’s going on? Is your father ill again?”

  How often had Laurie used that excuse? People were going to think her father was an invalid. “No, I’ve just had trouble sleeping. Headaches, mostly.”

  “Perhaps you should see Dr. Pierce.”

  Doctor Pierce dosed most of his patients with a generous serving of brandy. His bulbous red nose suggested he wasn’t opposed to self-medicating. Laurie squeezed Susan’s hand. “It’s just a little headache, I’ll be fine.”

  Sinking into her chair at the end of the long row of switchboards, Laurie settled the headset over her ears. She took a moment to press cool fingers against her temples, hoping to push the pain aside. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured Johnny down at the beach, a load of whiskey at his feet, or her father when she arrived home—passed out on the sofa, an empty bottle clutched to his chest.

  Six years had passed since the country went dry. How come everyone around her was sopping wet?

  Her earpiece buzzed. Laurie cleared her throat. “Number please?” She grasped the cord, prepared to make the switch. Less than four seconds, like her boss always said.

  “PA-1477. Mrs. Harold Murdock calling for Mrs. James Smith.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Murdock, I will connect you directly. Thank you.” Laurie pushed the cord into the appropriate outlet with a click.

  The rest of the day passed in a mind-numbing blur of voices, cords, and switches. At least it prevented her from fantasizing about a certain handsome stranger. Naturally, he turned out to be a low-life scoundrel—she drew them like mosquitoes. But it didn’t mean she had to push up her sleeves and invite them to take a bite.

  By quitting time, her head throbbed, eyelids dry as sand paper. Laurie shoved her arms into her coat sleeves. After a quick stop at Larson’s drugstore, she’d head home to start dinner. She’d poured two cups of coffee down her father this morning to get him off to the mill before the whistle blew. By dinnertime, he’d be exhausted and hungry as a bear.

  Laurie buttoned her coat, the fraying edges a reminder that her newer one was in need of a good sponging. She waved to the girls and stepped out onto Main Street, taking a deep breath of the fresh spring air. Thankfully the breeze blew the stench of the pulp mill out over the water and not into the streets.

  She tucked her hands into her pockets and window-shopped down the street. The mercantile had beautiful spring hats on display, if only she could squirrel away a few more dollars from her paycheck. The blue one would likely do for another season. Maybe she could add a few silk flowers.

  “Laurie!”

  Laurie’s spirits lifted as Amelia hurried down the street, a shopping bag perched on one hip, a pink sweater matching the blush in her cheeks. “I’m so glad to see you. I was hoping we could stop by Larson’s and then walk home together. I have been craving a soda for days and your brother never seems to have time to take me anymore.” Amelia shifted the bag to her other side.

  “Another soda? We just went two days ago.” Laurie steered the conversation away from her brother.

  Her friend laughed as she caught her breath. “What can I say? I’ve got a sweet tooth.”

  “I only have a few minutes. I need to get supper on.”

  The women linked arms and walked down the street together. Amelia, at barely five feet tall, had to tilt her head to look up at Laurie’s hair. “How did you do this morning? Did you style it like I showed you?”

  Laurie touched her hat. “I was pretty busy getting Daddy ready, but I managed a few waves. Of course, this hat crushed most of my hard work. It’s a little too snug.”

  Amelia’s hand tightened on her arm. “How’s Johnny?”

  Laurie’s heart ached. “He’s—he’s working a lot. I haven’t seen much of him.”

  Amelia sighed and stared at the ground as they walked. “Me, either.”

  Planters loaded with sunny yellow daffodils lined the walk outside Larson’s store. The door’s cheery jingle never failed to inspire a flood of childhood memories. Laurie could almost taste the penny candy.

  Old Mr. Larson added the soda fountain to the drugstore last summer, creating an immediate sen
sation in the small community. Even the grizzled old loggers from the lumber camps came dragging out of the woods to perch on Larson’s cherry-red stools and sip the bubbly concoctions.

  “Well, if it isn’t Miss Burke and Miss White.” Miles Larson ran a washcloth down the long marble counter. “Peas in a pod, you two are!”

  Laurie smiled. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Larson.”

  The older man adjusted his glasses. “It’s always a treat when you young ladies stop by. Have you come to pick up your father’s prescription, Laurie?”

  Laurie bit her lip. That was the last thing her father needed. “No, sir. Amelia and I just thought we’d stop in for a soda.”

  “Well, you look like you could use a little pick-me-up with those dark circles under your eyes. You aren’t coming down with something, are you?”

  She settled herself onto a stool. “No, I’m fine—just a little headache.”

  “Well, they say that soda is the best thing for that. The bubbles help to ease the tension and the sugar gives your spirits a lift at the same time.” He pulled two tall glasses from the shelf. “How about a cherry cola?”

  “That sounds perfect, Mr. Larson.”

  He added syrup to the glass as he looked over the top of his wire-framed glasses at Amelia. “And a cherry phosphate for you, like usual, young lady?”

  A bright smile crossed Amelia’s face. “No, not today. A green river, I think.”

  Mr. Larson topped Laurie’s drink with seltzer water. “Trying to keep me guessing, are you?” He wiped the edge of the glass with a napkin and added a straw before setting it on the counter.

  Amelia’s giggle bubbled over like the soda. “I thought I’d try something new.”

  As Mr. Larson reached for the lime syrup, he glanced up at Laurie. “That’s a new haircut, isn’t it?”

  Laurie tucked a wave behind her ear. “Yes. Just yesterday, in fact.”

  “I cut it for her, Mr. Larson.” Amelia beamed. “Doesn’t she just look divine?”

  The pharmacist grinned. “It looks just fine, ladies. It might just take some getting used to for an old fellow like me. The fashions these days . . . women trying to look like men with their short hair, men wearing trousers so baggy they look like skirts. I don’t understand it, but I guess I don’t have to, do I?” Mr. Larson placed Amelia’s drink in front of her.

  Laurie touched her hair and glanced at her reflection in the mirrored back of the soda fountain. She hoped she didn’t look like a man. Movement drew her attention. Speaking of men—a dark-haired one with broad shoulders was approaching from the back of the store.

  Mr. Larson leaned forward. “Ladies, I don’t know if you would remember my grandson . . . ”

  Laurie stared at the mirror, a flush creeping up her neck. The man’s smile was unmistakable—even in the daylight.

  When her intense blue eyes locked on him, every intelligent word disappeared from Daniel’s mind. He’d been trying to forget the woman all day and now she sat, just three feet away, golden-brown hair glinting in the low-angled rays of sunshine drifting through the large front windows. She sat with her back straight, shapely legs curved around the side of the stool’s center post.

  If only he’d inherited his grandfather’s gift for small talk. After fifty years behind the drugstore counter, Granddad knew everyone in town and the fastest way to put them at ease. The skill kept customers flocking to his business and ignoring his competitor on Third Avenue.

  A bell-shaped hat cupped around Miss Burke’s face, framing her cropped hair and intensifying her gaze. Her lips parted ever-so-slightly and a pink blush spread across her cheeks.

  Her companion spun the stool around to face him. “You’re Mr. Larson’s grandson?” A pair of warm brown eyes sparkled as she grinned at him, a spray of freckles dancing across a heart-shaped face.

  Granddad stepped out from behind the counter and clasped Daniel on the shoulder. “Yes, this is my grandson, Daniel Shepherd. He grew up here, but ran off to the University of Washington as soon as he was of age.”

  The young woman held out her hand. “I’m Amelia White.”

  Daniel cleared his throat and took her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

  Miss Burke swiveled on her stool, the blue of her eyes stealing the air from his lungs.

  Miss White, apparently unaware of Daniel’s predicament, slid off her seat still grasping his hand. “Mr. Shepherd, this is my friend, Laurie Burke.”

  Daniel managed a nod. His throat had gathered cobwebs. He coughed once before speaking. “I think Miss Burke and I have already met.”

  Miss Burke’s eyes widened, the blush on her cheeks darkening. “No, I don’t believe we have, Mr. Shepherd.”

  Obviously she wouldn’t admit to meeting him. He reached into his pants pocket and took hold of the coin inside, running it between his fingers as he thought. “I’m sorry. You looked familiar to me, but I must be mistaken.”

  She fidgeted and shook her head, causing her wavy hair to bounce against her pink cheeks.

  Daniel searched for the perfect mixture of words to neutralize the awkward moment. “I know—you’re related to Johnny Burke, right? He and I went to high school together.”

  Miss Burke lips pulled back from her teeth. Apparently he’d just stepped from one viper’s nest to another.

  Miss White’s features, on the other hand, lit up like a light bulb. “You know Johnny? Why, that’s Laurie’s brother!” She turned to Miss Burke, bouncing on her toes. “Laurie, he’s a friend of Johnny’s. We should get them together. Maybe we could all meet somewhere for dinner or something.”

  Laurie Burke turned to her friend. “Amelia, I think I’ve had enough soda.” She stood, reaching for her pocketbook.

  Her friend caught her sleeve, a pout springing to her lips. “No, Laurie, please stay longer. What about your headache?”

  “I feel much better now and I really should get home.” She slid a nickel onto the counter for her drink.

  Daniel leapt on a new tactic. “I could mix you up something—for your headache, I mean.”

  She glanced at him, eyes narrowed. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  Granddad wiped the counter with a damp cloth. “Before you go, Miss Burke, let Daniel fetch your father’s prescription. I’m sure Ray would appreciate it if you brought it with you.”

  Finally, a way to get back into the lady’s good graces. Daniel hurried across the store and slipped behind the druggist counter, checking under the counter for packages. Bottles stood in a neat line, names handwritten on the labels. He crouched down, balancing on his heels. “Burke, Burke . . . ” He pushed several containers aside before spotting one marked with a government seal. Amber-colored liquid washed against the glass walls as he pulled it closer.

  WHISKEY, PROOF 100. For Medical Purposes only. Sale or use for other purposes will cause heavy penalties to be inflicted. Patient: Raymond Burke. Physician: Dr. Philip Pierce.

  His throat clenched. His grandfather dispensed alcohol? Daniel shook his head. So does every drugstore from here to Florida. His fingers curled around the neck of the bottle, the smooth glass warm and familiar in his grasp. Too familiar. Sweat broke out across his palm as his hand trembled. Gripping the bottle, he straightened.

  Miss Burke had followed him across the store. He plunked the bottle down on the pharmacy counter, the sound echoing through the quiet store. The young woman flinched.

  A chill descended on Daniel, as if he’d stepped into a cold rainstorm. I thought I left this all behind in Seattle. He released the bottle’s curves, pushing his hand into his pocket and pressing the smooth-edged coin into his palm. Give me strength, Lord. “Raymond Burke? Is that your father’s name?”

  A tiny crease puckered between her brows. “Yes.”

  The woman he had spent so much time thinking about today not only associated with bootleggers, but also bought alcohol at the drugstore. Daniel frowned. “I’ll slip it in a bag for you.”

  Laurie snatched the package from
Mr. Shepherd’s hand, her eyes stinging.

  Mr. Shepherd leaned across the counter and lowered his voice. “I’m glad to see you got home all right.”

  Laurie drew in a quick breath. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I see that.”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. He already knew about Johnny—now he knew about her father, too.

  “Tell Johnny I said hello.”

  Mr. Shepherd’s gray eyes reminded Laurie of darkening storm clouds just before a lightning strike. She could still hear his words from last night: I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.

  Mr. Larson was such a sweet old man. Didn’t he realize his grandson was a scheming rumrunner and gangster?

  As she stared into the handsome face masking the heart of a scoundrel, Laurie straightened her shoulders. If Daniel Shepherd believed she would be easily intimidated, he was dead wrong. She’d lived with her father long enough to learn a thing or two. She set the bag down, placed both palms against the counter and leaned forward. “Does your grandfather know what you are?”

  The color washed from his face. “What do you mean?”

  It was too late to play innocent. She recognized a crook when she saw one, and she wasn’t going to let him bully her into submission. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, you and your midnight deliveries.”

  His brow furrowed, which only made his gray eyes more startling.

  Laurie snatched the bag and turned away, stashing the bottle under her coat.

  3

  The bacon hissed and bubbled, its rich scent wafting up into Laurie’s face as she leaned over the stove. She turned it carefully with a fork, pulling back just as a splatter of grease popped free of the pan. A golden stack of pancakes waited in the oven.

  Laurie swept her drawing papers into a neat stack at the end of the kitchen table, out of the reach of accidental spills and smears. Her mouth dried as she stared at the top sketch. The unsettling image had demanded to be recorded, not releasing her until she’d put pencil to paper. A shadowy stranger in the foreground gazed out over the windswept bluff and down to the straits, where two boats floated on the waves.