Home to the Harbor--A Novel Read online

  She was up for it, though. It would be fun. She felt a restlessness inside that doing this work would quell.

  When she tuned in to what Mary was saying, though, her excitement turned to disappointment.

  “So while I can’t put you in charge of the program,” Mary said, “I want to explore all avenues, and I wondered if you’d work with William today. Show him the Blue House and talk about whether it’s suitable for the program, and give me your perspective on whether he’s completely unwilling to work with dogs, or if he might at least assist someone I hire.”

  “Sure,” she said, trying not to show how she felt. Mom had drummed into her the value of being respectful to her elders. And as long as Mary wanted her involved on any level, there was hope that it would turn into a real job.

  Mary gave her a few more details and sent her on her way.

  The air felt chilly as she walked through town toward Victory Cottage and the Blue House, especially since she’d opted for looking cute rather than being warm. She had on an orange sleeveless sweater, ripped jeans and Vans, and she rubbed her hands up and down her goose-bumpy bare arms. Flowers were pushing up through the soil, some little purple ones already blooming, which would make Mom happy.

  Sunny, of course, knew what Mary didn’t know about the Blue House: there was a squatter living in the place. That was why she’d agreed to go talk to William and show him around. She’d figure out how to handle it when she got there.

  She approached the little blue cottage slowly, scanning it for signs of life. She hadn’t seen Caden at school today, but that wasn’t unusual; they weren’t in any of the same classes. Sunny had a mix of mostly standard classes, with an advanced science class she’d squeaked into, and upper level Spanish because she got so much practice speaking the language with the pickers at the seafood company. Caden, she’d heard, was good at English and history and took the honors version of those classes. Their paths didn’t cross all that often.

  Now that she knew he was hiding out from his family, though, she’d kept her eyes open for him. She was curious. How had his family not gotten suspicious that he was staying away from home way longer than a standard sleepover? They had to have noticed. Didn’t they care?

  Victory Cottage sat next door to the Blue House, their backyards separated by a shed and some bushes. Behind the houses, the bay extended, wide like an ocean at this point, a lone fishing boat visible close to shore.

  “Is that you, Sunny?” The deep voice came from Victory Cottage. “Are we meeting now? I just happened to look out and see you.” It was William, wearing an old T-shirt and untied sneakers. His sleepy eyes made it look like he’d been napping.

  Sunny didn’t much like him so far. His eyes lingered on Mom in a funny way that made Sunny feel protective. Mom didn’t need the hassle of some giant man hanging around her.

  Besides, William was all haunted and everything. She didn’t know what his story was, but Victory Cottage was designed for crime victims, or else people who’d lost a family member to violent crime. Mom really didn’t need some sad-sack wounded guy in her life.

  She spotted a movement in the window of the Blue House: Caden was looking out. She turned to face William, not wanting him to notice Caden. “Actually, I was stopping by to let you know it’s not a good time,” she improvised. “I thought of something else I have to do, something I’d forgotten.”

  “That’s fine,” he said quickly.

  Too quickly. That was strange.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught another movement in the window and frowned.

  William studied her, arms crossing over his chest. “Is anything wrong?”

  So he was more perceptive than she’d thought. “No,” she said. “Let’s just reschedule. Next week, maybe?”

  “That’s fine. See you.” He turned and walked back toward the house. His easy acquiescence surprised her; he seemed as relieved not to be meeting with her as she was not to be meeting with him. Paradoxically, that made her curious to find out more about him.

  She ambled along the sidewalk, kicking stones and pretending to be occupied with her phone, until William had disappeared inside. When he’d closed the door behind him, she hurried to the back of the Blue House. Here, Victory Cottage and its inhabitants were blocked from view, and she from theirs. She opened the gate of the chain-link fence and made her way up to the back porch.

  Caden was there and opening the door before she could fork her fingers through her messy hair. “What are you doing here?”

  “Helping you out, so don’t get cranky,” she informed him. “They’re going to start using this place to train dogs, so you’d better make other plans. That big guy next door is a part of it, or might be.”

  There was the sound of a car driving by, country music blaring. It squealed to a halt, and the door opened, then closed. Then the car sped off.

  Caden looked nervous. “Go, before someone else finds out I’m here,” he said, and slammed the door in her face.

  Great. Sunny had started to think Caden might be a good guy, but obviously, she was wrong. She headed down the back steps and out of the yard.

  As she walked toward the street, she heard a whine. Then a scrappy-looking medium-sized dog ran away from her and around the corner of the house, out of sight.

  She hurried forward, curious about the dog, but it was already running past Victory Cottage and on to the next yard. Oh, well.

  As she turned to head home, something on the ground caught her attention. Big reddish-brown circles were melting into the dirt where the dog had been. She knelt and looked at the circles more closely, then touched one. Her finger came away red.

  Blood. Why was the dog bleeding? Had the car with the loud music dropped it off?

  And if so, why had they done it right in front of Victory Cottage and the Blue House?

  * * *

  FRIDAY AFTERNOON, WILLIAM stood outside of Goody’s ice cream and sandwich shop, waiting for Bisky to arrive.

  The place was doing a decent business, considering that it was only March and there wasn’t a tourist in sight. It wasn’t the season for ice cream and milkshakes. Then again, there weren’t a lot of choices in Pleasant Shores during the off-season. Goody’s had been around when William was a kid, although the place had gotten a face-lift.

  He felt strange standing outside here, waiting for a woman to come and meet him. It was a little bit date-like, which was not comfortable. Just like that weird moment a couple of days ago, when he’d put an arm around his old friend to comfort her and ended up noticing her pretty, full lips.

  That had been a fluke, of course, as was this anticipatory feeling he was having right now. It was a function of the weather, the first really warm day of spring, complete with a clear blue sky. The bay was mirror-smooth. A few people were out, too, walking in twos and threes. A white-haired man jogged on the bike path that ran along the bay.

  He remembered, then, that he’d actually thought of bringing Jenna and Ellie, his ex-wife, here. He never would have taken them to see the run-down trailer where he’d grown up, of course, but he’d have liked to show them the land, the water, the natural beauty of the place.

  “William!” Bisky called to him from across the street, and then strode over. She wore faded jeans and a tank top, appropriate for the surprisingly warm day.

  Bisky was in great shape. No need for her to join a fitness center; her gym was a skiff on the bay, her weights, crab buckets and oyster bushels. It worked a lot better, from the looks of things.

  He shouldn’t think of how good Bisky looked, but after all, he was a guy. It didn’t mean anything.

  He held the door for her and they walked inside. Refreshing, chilly air came from the ice cream section, while a sweet aroma of doughnuts and cookies wafted over from the baked goods shelves. A lingering smell of fried food, probably crab cakes, made William’s mouth water. “The
y serve lunch now, too?”

  “Yep.”

  “I thought I was going to get a cone, but I’m getting a full meal,” he said to the woman behind the counter, then turned to Bisky. “What about you?”

  “Same,” she said promptly. “I’ve been working all day, and that bowl of cereal I started with wore off a long time ago.”

  “The two of you aren’t much different than when you were kids,” the woman said, and then William recognized her as Goody. She’d been a young woman when they were growing up here, helping out her mother. Now, it looked like she ran the place.

  They ordered the allegedly famous Crab Cake Sandwich baskets and went to a table by the window to wait. “I didn’t know I’d be recognized so much when I came home,” he said.

  “At our height, you can’t exactly be invisible,” Bisky said.

  “You’re right.” He gestured toward himself. “I’m mostly used to being the biggest guy in the room. I don’t mind it, but sometimes, it would be nice to be able to walk through a place without being noticed.”

  “Or commented on,” she said. “Try being the woman who’s taller than most of the guys.”

  “What are you, five-eleven? Six feet?”

  “Six-one, actually,” she said.

  “Well, you look good that way.” Why had he said that?

  She met his eyes, then looked away. “Thanks?”

  There was an awkward silence, so he dove in. “Look, I was hoping you could help me manage Mary. If I tell her I can’t work with therapy dogs, is she going to boot me out?”

  “Why can’t you?” Then recognition dawned in her eyes. “Is it Diablo?”

  “Exactly.” He pushed out a laugh. “I shouldn’t let it affect me. I know all dogs aren’t like him, and I know he was the way he was because of how Dad treated him.”

  “Honestly? He terrified all of us,” Bisky said. “Sunny’s been wanting a dog since she was a toddler, and I’ve always put her off. There were reasons I could say, logical ones, but behind them, there’s that picture in my mind.”

  William remembered the huge German shepherd that had been tied to a tree in front of their trailer home. He’d fulfilled his job as a watchdog, barking ferociously at everyone who walked by. Dad had made sure of it by throwing him raw meat every few days, but otherwise, keeping him hungry.

  William had tried to befriend the dog a few times, but he’d gotten nowhere. Diablo had ended up mauling a couple of neighborhood dogs, and the sound of those fights had never left William. It had been a mercy when Diablo had died, although the suspicion that someone in the neighborhood had poisoned him had put William’s father into a rage for days.

  Goody brought their food and they both dug in. After he’d sated his initial hunger, William leaned back. “There aren’t many people who would get it about Diablo,” he said.

  “He was terrifying!” Bisky shook her head. “Still, I was never one of those kids who’d tease an animal. That’s just wrong. Plus, I was afraid Diablo would bite my hand off.”

  “I wish I would have set him free.” Add it to the list of regrets William had about his childhood. “Someone should have called the SPCA.”

  Bisky put a hand over his. “Don’t beat yourself up. You were a kid. You didn’t know any better. None of us did.”

  He met her eyes and saw only compassion there.

  “So you want to turn down the therapy dog gig,” she said now, pulling her hand back from his and wrapping it around her water glass. “Mary will understand.”

  “But I need to do something. If I’m turning this down, it would be best if I could suggest something I can do. It’s always better to go to the boss with the solution.”

  She propped her cheek on her hand. “What are you looking for here? I mean, what’s your endgame?”

  Trust Bisky to cut to the chase. “I want to get my mind healed—” He broke off, because he knew he’d never heal. “I want to get better, so I can go back to my job.”

  “And what’s so great about your job? I mean, I know teaching at a college has prestige, and it’s probably rewarding, but what makes you willing to do all this to get it back? To come back here, which can’t have been easy?”

  “I help kids like I was,” he said. “The ones who come to college, somehow, but they’re not prepared. I help give them a leg up in life.”

  “Hey!” Bisky snapped her fingers. “I know. I’m supposed to help start a new branch of this after-school program from the high school up the shore, where most of the kids around here go. It’s going strong up there, but the dock kids don’t participate because of the location. I’m supposed to figure out how to make an after-school gig work down here. You could help me get that up and running.”

  He crumpled a straw wrapper, then unfolded it, then crumpled it again. “I’d be awful doing something like that,” he said. “Teenagers remind me of Jenna.”

  “College students don’t?”

  “Some, but they’re older, different,” he said. “When I met your girl Sunny, I almost lost it. No way could I work with kids of that age.”

  “What better way to heal, though?” she asked quietly. “You can’t go through life avoiding young people. And if you were struggling in your job before, maybe the college students weren’t so different after all. Maybe working with high-school-age kids will help you get back to where you’re good with the college ones again.”

  He pictured a roomful of kids Jenna’s age and started sweating. “Won’t work.”

  “How do you know? Maybe it’s like what they do when you have a fear of spiders, you know?” She frowned, then snapped her fingers. “Desensitizing, that’s it.”

  “Dealing with the death of your child is different,” he said, and pushed his plate away.

  “Of course it is.” She put her hand on his and squeezed briefly, then pulled back. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to minimize it, not at all. But being around kids her age might help you get over this hurdle. Make it so you could go back to your job.”

  He looked away, watched a mother hand french fries to her toddler while she studied her phone. Behind the counter, Goody seemed to be scolding her cook.

  “Hey.” Bisky patted his hand again. “If it’ll really be too traumatic, then don’t do it. Mary will find you something else. But...” She trailed off.

  He looked at her then. “But what?”

  “But I could use the help. You know how rowdy dock kids can be. Having you there would keep them in line, and it would let me split them up into smaller groups. Plus...I’m not a teacher or anything. Mary thought I’d be good at this, but I’ve been putting it off because I can’t figure out how to get it started.”

  That made him realize that this wasn’t just a make-work volunteer job. And the thought of spending more time with Bisky had a certain appeal. If she really needed his help... “Do you want to work with me, though?” he asked. “Even knowing what a mess I am?”

  “Well...” She drew out the word, tilting her head to one side. “You are kind of a mess.” She paused. “I’d want you to shave.”

  “You’d...oh.” He saw the laughter in her eyes, grinned and ran a hand over his chin. “Yeah, guess I should.”

  “We’re probably just going to pilot it for the rest of the school year, see how it works with our kids,” she said. “Give it some thought. I’m going to get us some milkshakes.”

  She didn’t ask his flavor preference, didn’t have to: she already knew he liked chocolate.

  She already knew a lot about him. It would be good to work with his old friend. She’d understand.

  They’d been teenagers together, at least until William had left. They understood this life, its ups and downs. Its poverty, but also its beauty. There was so much to love about the marshlands, the bay, even the people here, certain notorious ones in his own family excepted.

  When
she came back to the table holding two tall white cups, he took one, sucked in chocolaty richness that took him back to childhood yet again, and smiled at her. “If you’re sure you don’t mind working with me, and if you think Mary will go for it, then I’ll consider it,” he said.

  “That’s great!” She smiled, broad and uncomplicated.

  Something shifted in his heart then, and his body warmed.

  And that wasn’t a good thing. He was having a very strange reaction to his old friend. And it was one he had to quell, especially if it turned out he was going to work with her. For his own sake, but most of all, for hers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “TAKES YOU BACK, doesn’t it?” Bisky leaned back in the Jimmy Skiff, watching William row. She felt odd doing nothing on the water, so she added, “Don’t forget we’ve got a motor back here for when you’re tired.”

  “Good exercise,” he said. He leaned forward and rowed, powerfully, and soon removed his lightweight jacket.

  If he was going to work with her, they needed to begin planning the program for teens, and it had been Bisky’s idea to do it while boating out to Two Acre Island, an uninhabited piece of land where they’d spent as much time as possible when they were kids.

  She’d suggested she might want to bring the teens out here, to get them in touch with the bay’s ecosystems beyond what they could see in Pleasant Shores. More than that, she wanted to hook William’s interest in the area and remind him of what was great about Pleasant Shores and the surrounding land and water.

  He’d left on such bad terms that she felt like all the good parts of his childhood had been pushed out of his memory. If he were to be positive with the teens, possibly even convince some of them to stay and make a life here, he needed to change his attitude himself.

  It was four o’clock, late for a waterman to be out on the bay, but she’d wanted him to remember how spectacular sunset could look from the water. The sun hung low in the sky even now, but she figured they had a couple of hours of daylight left for exploring and a picnic, and the trip back.