The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor

by Anna J. Stewart

  The age, the desolation, the layers of dirt and dust and the hint of mold caking the air—it was all his father. His father’s demons, his disappointments, his failures.

  Luke turned in a slow circle as he tried to imagine how his father had fallen so far he’d resorted to locking his only child away for nothing more than perceived wrongs and unwarranted frustrations.

  He squatted and ran his fingers along the engraved tick marks he remembered carving with his ragged fingernails that night when he was fifteen. The five lines denoting the days he’d spent too terrified to attempt escape through the windows, grateful to be away from the man who had taken pleasure in making sure Luke knew nothing of being loved or cared for.

  The pity washing over Luke just then left him struggling against the tide of the past. What a sad life his father had led. How pathetic and meaningless.

  When his father had unlocked the door to let him out, a new Luke had emerged; one who was ready to fight for his survival and for a life beyond misery and abuse.

  His father had never raised a hand to him again.

  It took years for Luke to recognize the expression on his father’s face that day as terror, but there had also been a very thin sliver of pride. That was the day the hatred had settled, building on itself as it had barricaded Luke’s heart from that day on.

  A wall that had weakened twelve years ago by Jake’s forgiveness.

  A wall Holly Campbell threatened to crumble completely.

  There was nothing in this shed he wanted. Not the useless tools, the near-empty alcohol bottles or the jumbles of jars of nails and screws. Not the ancient radio that had kept Luke from losing his mind during his endless hours of incarceration. More than anything, Luke didn’t want the memories.

  But there was one thing he could use.

  Luke wrapped his hand around the handle of the sledgehammer and yanked it off the ground. He swung it over and down, letting it slam up and under the workbench, splitting the wood like an earthquake cracking the San Andreas Fault.

  He swung again, and again. Jars crashed and flew. Tools thudded. He struck out against the walls, his pleasure expanding as the structure weakened and whined on its way to collapse.

  Panting, sweating, he went outside and slammed the hammer into the side walls, again and again. His arms burned; his back screamed in pain as his scars protested, but nothing was stopping him. Not until this shed—this past—was a heap of rubble. His feet crunched over shattered glass as he took the hammer higher, heard the satisfying creak of collapsing wood.

  With a howl of pain and anger, Luke took one more swing dead center of the shed and watched as it collapsed, plumes of dust and dirt erupting around it and him.

  He let the sledgehammer drop and bent over, planting his hands on his knees as he drew in ragged breath after ragged breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing out the memories of the darkness, of the pain, of the loneliness, and instead embraced the image of Holly: her smile, her forgiveness, her laughter. Her touch.

  His lungs ached as sweat dripped into his eyes. He stumbled to the ground, landing hard on his butt, startled out of his reverie by the nuzzling nose of Cash, who was whimpering as he pushed his head under Luke’s arm.

  Luke opened his eyes and stared at the space where the shack had been moments before. Seeing it now, destroyed, where it couldn’t do any more damage to anyone—especially Luke’s soul—loosened a laugh Luke never thought he had in him.

  Hugging Cash, he sighed. Something had broken loose inside him. Something that wasn’t finished yet, but it was on its way. “Good thing I took the day off,” Luke said to Cash as he shoved his hands deep into the dog’s fur and held on for dear life. “Let’s say we get this place cleaned out, yeah?”

  “Woof.”

  Luke pushed himself up, ignoring the continued burn along his back and arms. Pain made him feel alive. Pain he now embraced. No matter how hard his father had tried, Luke had survived.

  Now it was time to live.

  * * *

  “YOU LOOK AS if you’ve gone three rounds with a heavyweight boxer,” Holly told Luke when he came into the diner early Friday afternoon. She resisted the urge to tell him she’d been hoping to see him before now. They’d been dancing around each other ever since he’d kissed her—as if he was afraid when they were alone again she’d let him have it. What would he think—what would he do—if he knew kissing him again had been at the forefront of her mind ever since she’d walked out of his house? “I thought today was your day off. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the camping trip?”

  “Had to exorcise some ghosts.” Luke grimaced as he took a seat at the counter. “Took a little more effort than I anticipated.” His eyes were brighter than she’d ever seen.

  Oh, boy. She needed to get her feelings under control. She and Luke were not a good idea. She and Simon were doing fine on their own, and besides, Luke had been more than clear he wasn’t a family man. He didn’t want ties, didn’t want obligations or responsibility. The last thing she needed was another man who felt trapped by her affection. Adding Luke Saxon to her already overflowing life was only asking for complications she didn’t need. Friends would work. Friends was safe.

  Friends who brushed their hands together or smiled into each other’s eyes. Or shared a few kisses here and there...

  Luke might not think he was family material, but his actions proved contrary. Simon could go on for eternity about all the things he was learning while working with his grandfather and Luke. Her son’s nonstop chattering about painting or power tools—who knew there were so many power tools?—or all the cool things Luke was teaching him did her heart good. It was difficult to fathom that a few short weeks ago Simon had been breaking and entering and computer hacking to try to drive Luke out of town.

  How Simon coped once Luke left at the end of his term, however, wasn’t something Holly was looking forward to facing. But it was easier to think about that than how she would feel. “Dad said the youth center’s about ready for its grand opening?”

  “If I can get the mayor to commit to coming to the opening ceremony.” Luke aimed a grateful look at Paige as she delivered a coffee.

  Holly smirked. “It was your project. Don’t see why you want to give him credit for it.”

  Luke shrugged, the black T-shirt he was wearing tight across his chest. “I didn’t do it for the credit,” Luke said. “And if I give him public credit for supporting the project, it’ll be harder for him to turn down funding activities for the future.”

  Holly rested her chin in her palm. “Now, that’s amazingly devious. I like it.”

  “Thank you. Where’re Simon and Charlie?”

  “Excellent question.” Those worry wobbles returned as they did whenever she wasn’t sure what Simon was thinking. “They took off on their bikes this morning. Said something about finding some secret hideaway Simon heard about. They were going to check it out.”

  “Let me know if I need to send out a search party,” Luke said. “I’m heading over to Thelma’s thrift store in a bit. You feel like taking a walk?”

  Luke was inviting her out? “Yeah, I’d love to. Paige?”

  “Got you covered,” Paige said. “I promised Charlie mac and cheese for lunch, though. Something hearty before the camping trip.”

  “I’ll be back by then. Feel free to make it here, though.” Holly’s eyes blinked innocently.

  “I’m not risking Ursula getting her hands on my recipe.” Paige wagged a finger at Holly. “Stop trying to get it out of me.”

  “Then, stop making it so darned good.” Holly totally understood why Paige’s comfort-food extravaganza worked wonders on her daughter. Holly would have given up national secrets for a serving, had she any to give. She grabbed her sweater and purse and joined Luke outside. “So these ghosts of yours?” she asked Luke once they
were outside. “Gone for good?”

  “I hope so.” Luke blinked into the sun as they made a right on Beating Wings Way. “Gutted my father’s bedroom. Took care of his shed. Made a list of all the furniture I don’t want. Whatever Thelma at the thrift store doesn’t want, I’m donating to charity. I did find something interesting, though. In a box in his closet.” He pulled out an old black-and-white photo from his pocket. “I don’t remember ever seeing this before.”

  Holly looked down at the image of a young woman holding a toddler who was obviously Luke. His smile hadn’t changed one iota. “Your mother?”

  Luke shrugged. “I guess. Dad wasn’t much of a sentimentalist. Not as if we had a family scrapbook lying around. The dates match, though.”

  “How old were you when she died?” Toddler Luke was all grins and dimples, eyes shining and happy as he reached for the camera while clinging to his mother.

  “Four, I think?” Luke shook his head. “I’m not sure. My dad’s story changed from one drunk night to the next. She was pretty. I could always feel her there. Not anymore, though.” The wistfulness in his voice bounced against Holly’s heart.

  “She was beautiful.” Now Holly knew where Luke got his eyes. And that rich, black hair. “I’m sorry you never knew her.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. Seeing this, it made me want to visit her, take flowers maybe, to her grave.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “But my father never told me where she was buried.”

  Holly didn’t think she could loathe Luke’s father more than she already did. All these years and Luke hadn’t been able to even visit his mother’s grave? “Maybe you’ll find it in his papers.”

  “Yeah.” Luke nodded. “I’m boxing them up. I’m thinking about talking to Abby about renting one of those cottages at the Flutterby. Make a clean break of things. Maybe burn the old house to the ground. Make a nice bonfire.”

  “I thought you were joking.”

  “I was at the time. Now? The property would be worth more without the house on it. Besides, it’s falling down. There’s no salvaging it as far as I’m concerned. The place is toxic. What happened inside is stuck in the walls, in the floors. I wouldn’t wish that place or those demons on anyone.”

  Neither would Holly, but there was more to putting demons to rest than setting them on fire. Making a break of things, moving somewhere new, was a good start.

  “We do what we have to in order to move past the pain.” Holly stuck her hands into her pockets and lifted her face into the gentle breeze. “After Gray died, I was so angry. At him, at his addiction. The fact he couldn’t seem to find the strength to fight for us. But mostly I wanted the opportunity to tell him how much he hurt me. He lied. All the time at the end. I couldn’t believe anything he said, and if he took Simon anywhere I had this lump in my chest.” She pressed a fist against her sternum. “As if I couldn’t breathe until I saw them again. By the end, I wouldn’t let them be alone. I know addiction is a disease, but it was Gray I ended up battling with. Once he was gone, it was almost a relief.” She stopped walking and forced herself to look at Luke, half expecting to see condemnation on his handsome face. She deserved it. “Sounds horrible, doesn’t it?”

  “No.” Luke brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. “It sounds human.”

  “You’re the only person I’ve ever told this to.” And the admission loosened that splinter of guilt that had lodged in her heart the day Gray died. “I don’t think anyone else would understand. Not even Abby, and she was by my side the whole time. She saw what was happening, but with this thick silver lining she can never dismiss. I loved him. Even at the end. Because he was Simon’s father. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t turn those emotions off.” Even though it would have hurt less if she had. “Sorry.” She grabbed hold of his hand and gripped it hard. “They say confession is good for the soul, but I didn’t mean to drop all this on you.”

  “Thank you for trusting me with it.”

  “I trust you with more than that.” Holly was ready to address, however indirectly, what was stopping him from realizing he was worth fighting for. “I’m turning Simon over to you for the weekend. Other than my father or Abby, I’ve never done that before. Hopefully you won’t hate me for it come Sunday afternoon.”

  “I could never hate you, Holly.”

  Holly’s heart fluttered. Not the reaction—or the words—she’d been expecting. He really did know the perfect thing to say. But words escaped her. All she could think to do, when he attempted to pull his hand free from hers, was to hang on and weave her fingers through his as they continued their walk.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “JUST GOT WORD Rex Winters’s wife bailed him out of county jail this morning,” Fletch told Luke as he joined him by the van in front of the freshly painted youth center. Jake was occupied marking off items on his clipboard as Matt helped him load sleeping bags, tents and boxes of food into the back of Luke’s truck. The four coolers would make things a tight fit, but they’d manage.

  At ten to three, most of the kids had already arrived and were milling about the parking lot, talking excitedly about the outing. They were still waiting on a couple of campers, including Simon and Charlie and... Luke continued to scan his surroundings and tried not to let the disappointment sink in. No sign of Kyle.

  “Certainly she bailed him out.” All the more reason Luke was anxious to set eyes on Kyle again. The farther away they could keep him from his father, the better for everyone, especially Kyle. “Why break the cycle now?” But Luke was determined to. Even if it meant having to press charges...

  “Don’t look now.” Matt finished tying down the tarp to cover the truck bed. “Looks as if you got through.”

  Luke peered toward the beach and saw Kyle trudging their way, a sleeping bag tucked under one arm, a ragged duffel over his shoulder. Relief surged through him, but Luke kept his face passive, giving Kyle a sharp nod as he reached them.

  “I don’t have a tent.” The defiance remained, as did the suspicion, but the spiked hair had been tamed, as had the hostile attitude.

  “We have extras,” Luke said. “We’ve got you bunking with your friend Henry. That work for you?”

  Kyle shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “Great. Get your stuff to Matt. He’ll stash it in my truck and we’ll finish loading up. Kyle?” Luke called when Kyle walked past him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Another shrug.

  Fletch chuckled. “So sorry I’m not going with you.”

  “I can tell.” Luke smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good about life, about what he was doing, the possible difference he could make with these kids. The jumbled pieces he’d struggled for years to put together were finally falling into place. “I grabbed a couple of the sat phones from the station. Milkweed Lake is a good starter camp area. Don’t want to overwhelm them.” He looked at his watch. “Okay!” he called. “Let’s load up. Kyle, you take the front seat, please.” The last thing he needed was Kyle getting into a tussle with...anyone. “Come on, Holly,” he mumbled to himself and then saw a streak of color exploding down the street: Charlie and Simon, followed by Holly and Paige bringing up the rear.

  “Sorry we’re late!” Charlie panted as she halted in front of Luke. “Simon forgot his surveillance notebook. We had to go get it.”

  “Can’t leave it alone, can you?” Luke teased as Simon grinned at him.

  “No, sir!” He pointed to the plastic gold badge pinned to the collar of his T-shirt. “It’s my job.”

  “Drop your stuff by the truck before you get into the van. Ladies, come to see us off?” Luke couldn’t pull his gaze off Holly. She radiated, from her twinkling eyes to her sparkling white sneakers. How could she continue to do this to him? Make everyone around them vanish by coming into focus.

  “We’ve
come to make sure this is really happening.” Paige was practically skipping with joy. “Thanks to you, I’m getting my first official Butterfly Harbor girls’ night with Holly and Abby. There is much wine to be drunk and boys to be spoken of.” She waggled her eyebrows at Luke, who shook his head and tried to stop from blushing.

  “Hi, Paige.” Fletch’s voice caught in his throat and had Luke arching a brow in his direction. “What?”

  “I didn’t say a word.” Luke’s amusement vanished when Paige merely gave Fletch a dismissive smile. Ouch.

  “Sheriff? A moment?” Holly crooked her finger at him and he followed her around the corner of the building. “I wanted to thank you again for taking this on. It’s a lot of work.”

  “It’s camping,” Luke said. “A whole half hour away. And they’ll be doing most of the work.”

  “Just promise me you won’t let Simon out of your sight. Not,” she added when Luke frowned, “because I don’t trust you with him. I heard him and Charlie talking about Kyle. They think he’s up to something, and you know Simon. Once he has an idea in his head—”

  “Got it.” He nodded. “Please don’t worry about him, Holly. I’ll take good care of him.”

  “Do I look worried?” She cocked her head to the side and peered into his eyes to the point he felt like squirming. What did she want from him? “When you get back, you and I are going to have a long talk about this thing we have going on.”

  Unease washed over him. “What thing?”

  “This thing.” She stepped forward, placed her open palm on his chest and rose up on her toes. She pressed her lips lightly against his, smiling as he skimmed his fingers over the curve of her hip. “See you Sunday, Sheriff. Take care of my boy,” she called over her shoulder as she sauntered away, leaving Luke feeling as if his brain had been deep-fried. “Both my boys.”

  * * *

  “I CAN’T REMEMBER the last time I saw you this relaxed, Holly.” Abby held her wineglass reverently as she sank into the soft cushions of her overstuffed sofa Friday night. Thanks to Twyla and Ursula offering to close, she and Paige had arrived at Abby’s cozy cottage behind the inn earlier than expected, diving into that wine—and conversation about boys—with as much gusto as obsessive, giggling sommeliers. “Is this the effect Sheriff Luke has on you?”