The Runaway

by Jennifer Bernard

  “Gracie, tell me again why you’re here?”

  “You brought me here. Have you forgotten? I was almost asleep when—”

  “No, I mean, how did you find this marina? Why do you want to work here?”

  “Oh jeez, you aren’t going to try to fire me again, are you?”

  “I just want to know. You haven’t really answered that question, and now you’re going to be sleeping on board my old houseboat, and I think I have a right to ask.”

  And it shouldn’t be a hard question to answer. But she gazed up at him, pulling her lower lip between her teeth, as if searching for just the right words.

  “I promise it’s nothing bad. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  “Okaaayyy…” That was definitely not the kind of answer he’d expected. “Not that I was worried about that, but I’ll cross that off the list.”

  “I do want to tell you everything, but I’m not quite ready to.”

  His sense of alarm grew. “Gracie, are you in trouble? If you need help, just tell me what’s going on. Asshole ex-boyfriend? Nasty ex-boss?”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s more like…I’m looking for something. And the looking brought me here, so I need to be here, at least for now.”

  That last part, the “at least for now,” bothered him. Even though Gracie was unconventional, she was growing on him, and good cashiers were hard to find. “Looking for what—buried treasure? Pirate booty?”

  She laughed. “Yes, and if I find it, I promise to give you a cut.”

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  “Oh, I definitely will tell you, but not just yet. If that’s okay.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment. “You’re just full of mysteries, aren’t you?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Taken aback, he narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m pretty straightforward. I work hard. I love my marina. I try to do right and keep things simple.”

  She kept watching him, as if she was expecting him to say more. When he didn’t, she looked almost disappointed. “Okay. Have it your way. So can I get on the boat now?”

  “Hang on.” With one long stride, he boarded the Buttercup and swung onto the deck. Then he held out his hand to assist her. She skipped on board as if it were a lily pad instead of an old tub that kept threatening to sink. Her hand felt warm in his, and surprisingly capable. He remembered what her brother Kai had said about her mountain survival skills. Gracie was a lot more than she seemed. He needed to remember that.

  “Welcome to the Buttercup,” he told her as she spun around to take in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of his craft. Her expression of wonder made him remember the mild disgust Sophie had exhibited when she first saw his houseboat.

  Not exactly a news flash that Sophie and Gracie were very different people.

  He took note of a new patch of rot near the rear starboard scupper and sighed. Sophie was right to scorn his boat. She lived in reality. Gracie lived in…some kind of fantasyland he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

  “Thank you so much.”

  He smiled wryly at her heartfelt words. “Save the thanks until we’re sure she won’t sink. You can swim, can’t you?”

  She hesitated, causing him to give her a hard stare. “You don’t know how to swim?”

  “I’m a frozen water girl. Snowboarding, skiing, skating. Mountain kid, remember? But I’m not worried. How hard could it be?”

  Oh my God. He checked his watch. “I have to get back. Any chance you’d commit to wearing a life jacket while you’re on board?”

  “If I decide to take the Buttercup out on the open ocean, I absolutely will.”

  “You can’t…this boat isn’t…don’t even…” He finally realized she was teasing him. Throwing up his hands, he headed back toward the stockroom. “If you go overboard, I will actually have to fire you.”

  She gave him a saucy mock salute, somehow getting the last word without even saying anything.

  5

  Her whole life, Gracie had been drawn to small spaces. Back at Rocky Peak Lodge, she’d claimed an old hunter’s cabin as her own. Sometimes she’d spent entire weekends there, making tea and sketching. Even her regular bedroom at the lodge was on the small side, since it was nestled under the eaves in the oldest original wing.

  Was it because of the bassinet in which she’d gone through so much?

  She had no idea, but the Buttercup fit right in with her love for nest-like spaces. One half of the cabin was filled with a custom bed that had been cut to fit the space exactly. A mahogany headboard and side runners shielded it on all sides, and a filmy mosquito net draped over it like a princess canopy. A navy-blue comforter was tucked in on all sides, almost in a military manner.

  Built-in bookshelves lined the curved sides of the cabin. Each one had a railing meant to keep the books from flying off in rough seas. Scanning the books, she saw nautical manuals, adventure stories, and a few mysteries. He liked westerns, too, and had the complete set of Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Millhone series.

  She took one down and read the back cover.

  A female detective. Hmm. Maybe she could learn a thing or two about being a spy, or at least an investigator.

  As she slipped the book back onto the shelf, she noticed a metal box nestled into the corner. It looked like the kind of container where important files and papers might be kept. What if there was something in there that would confirm that Mark was the boy she was looking for? Her fingers itched to peek inside, but she fought back the urge. What kind of rude guest would she be if she went through his personal things? What would Kinsey Millhone do?

  Turning away from the temptation, she parted the mosquito netting, which was pristine and free of dust, and crawled inside. The mattress was divinely comfortable, and the gentle rocking of the waves made her feel as if she were being cradled by the ocean. She unrolled her sleeping bag and spread it on top of the comforter, then slid inside with a deep, happy sigh.

  Sleeping in Mark’s former bed struck her as maybe too intimate. On his bed was safer.

  Mark Castellani might come off as a strict boss, but he was fundamentally kind and caring. He could have easily fired her, but instead he’d done the opposite. He’d given her this little piece of heaven on the water.

  The lapping of the waves against the hull of the boat lulled her to sleep. Just before dropping off, she remembered her new memory—the threatening man who’d pushed her mother aside. She tried to bring it into more focus. Where was she when this incident had taken place? The back seat of a vehicle. Yes. Because her mother had been in the driver’s seat, and the man had yanked her away and taken her place.

  A carjacking.

  The same carjacking or kidnapping that Mark had experienced? But why didn’t any of the news articles mention a baby? It seemed like that would be a big deal, if a baby had been carjacked, too. What if she was completely on the wrong track here?

  She needed to come clean with Mark, to find out what he remembered. If he didn’t know anything about a baby, then she was in the wrong place. If he had nothing to do with what had happened to her, then she needed to move on with her search.

  Maybe that was the problem. She didn’t want to move on. She liked it here. She liked being on the ocean, and now she was even closer to it than ever. She loved this houseboat. She enjoyed the fishermen and the yachters. And she really, really liked Mark.

  Gotta face facts, she told herself as she dozed off. I like him too much to leave yet.

  Until he actually fired her, she was going to stick around.

  For the next few days, she did everything in her power to show Mark her gratitude for his offer of the Buttercup. Every morning, she woke up early so the coffee would already be percolating by the time he arrived. She’d have his thermos filled, two creams already added.

  She knew that he hated doing inventory more than anything, so she volunteered for that job.

  “I know the stockroom better than
anyone,” she pointed out. “I could practically do it blindfolded. And if you need help with the payroll, I can manage that, too. I used to help my father with payroll.”

  “Gracie, I’m not going to fire you. You can relax.”

  “Of course you’re not going to fire me. I’m too indispensable.”

  “Good morning, Gracie.” Sophie appeared behind him, wearing her morning workout clothes—spandex leggings and a sports bra, with a hoodie half unzipped. “Ooh, save some of that coffee for me. I have a hot-yoga class in ten minutes, but I’ll be back.”

  As always, Gracie felt her heart drop at the sight of Mark’s gorgeous girlfriend. Sophie worked as a real estate agent and drove a BMW convertible and fit her relationship with Mark in between brunch dates and Zumba classes. Gracie liked Sophie, but she knew without a doubt that she was all wrong for Mark. For one thing, she didn’t care for the marina. It was obvious every time she set foot here. She always scrunched up her face because of the smell, and gave the fishermen a wide berth, as if they might spatter her with fish guts.

  “Gracie, that earring is to die for. Where did you get it?”

  Gracie’s hand flew to the single earring she wore in her left ear. It was made from a dainty white feather, maybe from a swan, which dangled from a silver filigree wire knot, with a rose quartz crystal set into it. “It was my mother’s.”

  “It’s stunning. Just the one?”

  “Yes.”

  Both Mark and Sophie waited for her to continue. Would it be rude to leave it at that? Did she owe them the story of her mother’s earring?

  “My mother died in a car accident. I was only six when it happened, so I didn’t really understand that she wasn’t going to come back. I wanted to feel close to her again, so I climbed into her favorite armchair. Everything was still right where she’d left it…a book open on the windowsill, a cozy throw blanket on the chair. I curled up with her throw and fell asleep. I woke up because something was poking me. It turned out to be this earring, which was wedged under the cushion of the armchair. I claimed it for my own. As soon as I was allowed to, I got my ears pierced. I wear it whenever I want to feel close to her.”

  She stopped abruptly, realizing that she’d been rattling on about the darn earring for far too long. Mark and Sophie were both staring at her with bemused expressions.

  “Sorry, that’s probably a lot more information than you wanted about my earring.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” Mark said softly.

  “Thank you. But, well, as it turns out, she may not have been my mother.”

  Crap, how did that slip out?

  “I mean, she was my mother because she raised me, at least until the age of six. It’s a long story and definitely much more than you wanted to know. Anyone for a mini-muffin? There was a sale at Ralph’s this morning.” Desperately, she shoved the package of banana walnut muffins toward them.

  “You’re a quirky one, aren’t you?” said Sophie, ignoring the offered treats.

  Quirky? Was that as condescending as it sounded? She didn’t answer.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” Sophie continued. “My little brother’s about your age. He’s a drummer in a band, and he likes to surf, and I think you’d like him. He’s temporarily single, but knowing him, there’s only a short window before he hooks up again. Are you in?”

  “Oh. Um…” She shot a glance at Mark but couldn’t read his expression. He’d gone still, as if he was working hard not to react to Sophie’s suggestion. “I’m not really interested in dating at the moment.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a date,” Sophie continued. “He and his housemates are throwing a party next week. You have to come.”

  “A party? Oh no. I couldn’t do that.”

  “Why not? A little cutie like you, you’ll have a great time. Even if you don’t click with Ian, there’s bound to be someone to hook up with. You’re definitely coming. I was going to go alone because Mark despises parties, so now you can come with me.”

  A panicked fluttering began in Gracie’s chest. She didn’t mind parties with people she knew, but parties with strangers gave her intense anxiety. Even gatherings at the Last Chance, her brother Jake’s bar, stressed her out. Here, with nothing but unfamiliar faces, she’d probably have a panic attack.

  “I don’t—” she began.

  Mark rescued her. “I don’t think Gracie wants to go to a party, especially with those guys.”

  “Those guys? You’re referring to my brother?”

  “Yes. At their last party, they went through three kegs. Weren’t the police called?”

  “You’re such a wet blanket sometimes. Come on, Gracie! Live a little. I’ll keep an eye on you. We’ll make sure you only make out with the cute boys. I’ll be your wing woman.” She winked at Mark, then dragged him by the arm out the door. “Now come on, you promised to drive me to yoga so I don’t have to find parking.”

  With the two of them gone, Gracie whooshed out a breath of relief. There were many things she didn’t understand about life in Southern California, with driving habits being at the top of the list. Why not simply walk to the yoga class?

  Someone waved from the gas pumps. “Dwayne,” she called to her co-worker, the one with the agoraphobia issues. He poked out his head from the workshop adjacent to the little store. He spent most of his time back there, doing repair work for customers. But he wanted to get more involved in other jobs, so she’d been helping him take baby steps toward public interaction.

  “Want to try a fill-up?”

  He gazed out at the gas pumps and the fisherman waiting for assistance. “Maybe.” He came halfway into the store, then turned around and headed back. “Maybe next time.”

  “Hey, you got further than usual. Making progress.”

  Dragging on a hoodie and a pair of work gloves, she hurried outside to help the fisherman fuel up. Adam was a regular, one of the younger guys who’d just purchased his own boat.

  “Glad you ain’t been fired yet,” he told her as she flipped the switch to activate the pump.

  “It’s a miracle,” she said cheerfully. “But don’t worry, I’m working on it.”

  A seagull dove toward one of the fishing boats, reminding her that she needed to visit the used bookstore and find a copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

  “Well, don’t work too hard. This place is a lot more friendly with you behind the counter. Don’t let Castellani scare you away.”

  “I won’t,” she assured him. “His girlfriend might scare me away, but he won’t.”

  “Just wait fifteen minutes. She’ll be gone and he’ll have a new one.” The fisherman winked at her and returned the nozzle to the pump. “We have a pool going, as a matter of fact. We do it every time Mark hooks up. You want in?”

  “Seriously? You guys bet on how long his relationships last? Don’t you have anything better to bet on?”

  “Sometimes we bet on how long his cashiers will last.”

  “Really? What’s your bet on me?”

  “Can’t tell you, that would be tampering. But if you did choose to quit in about a week, there might be something in it for you.”

  She put out her hand, and he plopped a fifty-dollar bill onto it.

  “That’s for the fuel, by the way. Not a bribe.”

  Gracie smiled as she hurried back to the office to get change for the fifty. Why did Mark have such a problem hanging on to cashiers and relationships? Maybe the people who saw him every day knew the answer.

  When she gave Adam his change, she asked curiously, “Why does Mark change girlfriends so much?”

  “How should I know? I’m just a fisherman. What I say, there’s plenty of fish in the sea. Why stick with just one?”

  She laughed at his very appropriate response.

  He pocketed his change, untied his lines from the cleats, and hopped back on his boat. “See ya, kid.”

  Her smile disappeared as he opened the throttle and pulled away from the dock.

 
Kid. He wasn’t much older than she was. Was that really how these guys saw her, as just a kid? She was used to that back home, with her family, where she was the youngest one around and on the small side. Back in Rocky Peak, everyone tended to treat her like a kid sister.

  But here? On her own for the first time? At the fully adult age of twenty-three? It wasn’t right…and she was sick of it.

  Maybe she should go to that party after all—but do it right. After nearly six weeks of working here, she had some money squirreled away. Why not spend it on a new party outfit? Something sexy and grown-up. Maybe a new hairstyle, too.

  Enough with the kid-sister look. It was time to open some eyes.

  6

  Once a month, Sophie had a spa day with her friends. Mark used the guaranteed private time to do something he both dreaded…and needed.

  He called the therapist who’d been in his life since the age of seven.

  “How have things been going?”

  Larry Geller was about eighty now, and would probably retire soon. But he’d been a rock in Mark’s life since the kidnapping, the only solid person in a sea of chaos. He still lived in Santa Rosa, so Mark held phone sessions with him.

  “Going good.”

  “Glad to hear it. Marina’s in good shape?”

  “Couldn’t be better.”

  A long pause came next.

  “And Sophie?”

  “I’m going to Connecticut to meet her parents.” It still didn’t feel real, but Sophie was actually looking for tickets, so maybe it was.

  “That sounds like a big step.”

  “It is. Maybe.”

  Another long pause. That was the thing about talking to therapists. It wasn’t easy. At least it wasn’t for him. But as always, the patient silence on the other end of the line slowly drew the words out of him.

  “I don’t think it’s going to work out with Sophie,” he admitted. “I’m sick of things not working out. I want this time to be different because I’m so fucking tired of breakups. So I’m not going to break up with her. I’m just fucking not. I’m going to stick it out. Like that marathon I ran. I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t. Just kept slogging it out until I passed the finish line.”