Finding Abigail (22 page)

I kicked off my
sandals, tossing them beside me, and dipped my feet into the water.
Ahh
…it
was warmer than I thought it would be. For a second I was tempted to go
skinny-dipping, something that in my twenty-eight years I had never done. It
was such a beautiful and peaceful night I almost gave in, but I didn’t let
myself get carried away. This was me, the girl that wore a towel around her
apartment, even when I lived alone.

A noise brought
my attention back from my daydream to a fish jumping. I watched the water
ripple as the breeze blew a lock of hair into my eyes. I pushed it away and
leaned back on the dock, gazing up at the sky. Twilight was just settling in
and the horizon was turning a pinkish-purple color. The air smelled crisp with
water, only the hint of grass mixed in. I had never seen such a beautiful scene
in my life. To watch this every night before I went to bed was a blessing I
never expected. I wished I could share it with my family. But knowing they were
safe, and that I was safe, made solitude bearable.

My body went
rigid at the sound of light footsteps on the grass behind me. My first thought
was that he had found me. I knew this day would come sooner or later, although
I had hoped for later. But he was a fool if he thought I would go easily. I
stood up, slipped my shoes back on, but didn’t turn around. It might have been
the fear that gave me the courage, but I had a plan, and I needed him closer.
My heart raced as I waited.

The footsteps
grew louder as he walked onto the dock. When I was sure he was close enough, I
swung around and punched him as hard as I could in the face. I felt my knuckles
dig into his stubbled chin. When I pulled my stinging fist back, I took off
toward the house before he could grab me. This wasn’t over. I had a taste of
freedom, and I wasn’t giving in.

“What the hell
was that for? Where are you going, are you crazy?” The deep voice behind me
wasn’t Nick’s, but that didn’t mean anything, he could have sent someone after
me.

I was almost to
the cottage, about to get the spare car keys out of the barbeque, when I
noticed a light from the corner of my eye. I spun in the direction of my
neighbor’s house. The lights were on, and there was a yellow Jeep in the
driveway.
Oh shit, I just coldcocked my neighbor
. That’s a good way to
get to know them.

I slowly turned
toward the lake and saw a tall man with thick, wavy, blond hair walking toward
me, rubbing his jaw. “I am so sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I
stammered, cradling my now sore hand and making no move toward him. I couldn’t
help the feeling that I was still in danger and resisted the urge to look
around, making sure that we were alone. It was only a few minutes ago that I
was sure Nick had found me, and now that I realized my mistake it was hard to
force down the fear. Although embarrassment was slowly taking over. I had just
punched a stranger. I had never struck another human being in my life—well,
besides my sister, but we were kids, that was different. My throbbing knuckles
only added to the humiliation.

When the man
stood a few feet in front of me, he stopped, his lips turning up at the edges,
making his blue eyes sparkle. He looked me over and his smile widened. “That’s
one hell of a right hook you got there, lady.”

“I said I was
sorry, you shouldn’t have snuck up on me.” I was starting to feel uneasy, alone
with a man in a deserted area. I fought the urge to step back.

His eyes
widened, the smile fading. “Snuck up?” He gestured toward the dock where I had
been sitting. “I yelled hello when I got out of my car, then I yelled again as
I was walking toward you.”

“You did? I was
so mesmerized by the evening I guess I didn’t hear you. I’m sorry,” I repeated
dumbly. My cheeks heated. It was bad enough that I had just punched him, now I
kept apologizing and babbling like an idiot.

He made no
move, just stood looking at me curiously, his eyes alight with amusement. “Who
are you anyway, and what are you doing in my grandmother’s cottage?”

“Your
grandmother?” I gasped, vaguely remembering her mentioning a grandson. “Are you
Sylvia Newman’s grandson?”

“Yes, I bought
my house from her five years ago. She owns this one.” He gestured to my
cottage. “And several down the way.” He pointed to the right of his house. He
must be referring to the empty cottages I had seen on my walk down the beach.
“The others are rentals, but she keeps this one for friends and family. She
must think very highly of you to let you stay here. This cottage is her
favorite; it’s where she and my grandfather first lived after they married.”

That made what
she had done for me matter so much more. How I would ever thank her? “I didn’t
think anyone lived there,” I said, nodding towards his house, trying to avoid
his question. “I’ve been here a week and never saw anyone.”

“I just got
back from a wedding in Philadelphia. Didn’t my grandmother tell you I lived
next door?”

How was I supposed
to tell him we hadn’t even spoken of the house I was staying in, let alone the
neighbors? “No, she never mentioned you.” I didn’t like the direction our
conversation was headed. There were too many things I didn’t want anyone to
know.

“That’s strange;
my mother didn’t tell me you were coming. It’s my job to take care of the
renters. And as far as I know, we don’t have anyone scheduled for another
month.” He paused, folding his arms in front of him as he narrowed his eyes. “I
find it odd that you’re staying in her favorite house, one that’s reserved for
family and friends, and no one told me about it. How do you know my grandmother
anyway?”

My mind went
blank. His questions were making me uneasy. I couldn’t tell him that we met on
the Internet, like I had Kathy. After he explained how Sylvia felt about the
cottage, he would never believe that she rented it to me over an email. All I
knew was that I needed to get away from him. He asked too many questions and he
was a man, and after the last few months they couldn’t be trusted. “My personal
life does not concern you. And I would appreciate it if you would mind your own
business.” Since I couldn’t think of anything else to say to get rid of him, I
stormed into the cottage.

Once inside, I
ran to the window to make sure he left. He stood where I had left him, looking
dazed. He took a few steps toward my door, hesitated, then turned around and
went into his house.

I was relieved
for now. I needed to think better on my feet. When he asked me questions I
didn’t want to answer, I should have thought of a lie instead of telling him to
mind his own business. That would only pique his curiosity. I couldn’t tell him
who I was, but now I was worried that he would call his mother and ask about
who was staying at her cottage. That might make her go to her Sylvia’s, and
Nick would overhear. I didn’t know what to do.

I wandered
around the cottage, double-checking the locks. There was a strange man right
next door, and the trickle of fear that ran up my spine told me that my newly
found freedom was over. I couldn’t help but worry over this new development,
but since there was nothing I could do to change it, I grabbed a bottle of wine
with my good hand and turned on some music. Then I sat on the window seat in
front of the large bay window, looking out over the water. After a few glasses,
I undressed and had a shower. The hot water spraying over me seeped into my
skin and helped me relax. Was this ever going to get easier? If it wasn’t the
constant worry that Nick would somehow find me, it was my newfound fear of all
things male. Not to mention the fact that this new male was filled with
questions I couldn’t answer.

When I finished
my shower and toweled off, I threw on some underwear and a white tank top and
went to bed. I would figure everything out another day.

The annoying
sound of knocking pulled me out of my well-deserved sleep. Stumbling out of
bed, I ran to the door; my only thought was to make the banging stop. “What!” I
growled, yanking the door open, and cringed with pain. My hand was red and
swollen.

My new
neighbor, who looked wide awake and fresh at this ungodly hour, stood on the
pavement, leaning against the doorjamb.

He smiled.
“Well, aren’t you all sunshine and rainbows in the morning,” he observed,
pushing his way into the kitchen. He was carrying what looked like coffee,
doughnuts, and a newspaper. Placing them on the counter, he turned around,
flashing an annoyingly arrogant grin. Even with my mind still foggy with sleep,
I could smell the delicious scent of the coffee. It almost made me drool.

“Nice hair,” he
remarked, his gaze slowly traveling down. I suddenly remembered what I was
wearing. “Do you always answer the door in your underwear?” His brows lifted,
his eyes sparkling with laughter—again.

“Oh god,” I
murmured, trying to cover myself, yanking at the hem of my tank, which I now
worried was see-through. “I was sleeping, what are you doing here so early?”

“It’s nine,
that’s not early around here. And if you don’t go put something on, I’m going
to strip down to
my
underwear.” His eyebrows wiggled. “I’m feeling
really overdressed.”

Feeling
frightened and embarrassed, I rushed to the bedroom to fetch a hoodie and a
pair of cotton shorts. I needed to get him out of the cottage. He made me
jumpy. I was heading back out when I noticed my hair in the gilded mirror above
the bed. It was somehow stuck up on one side, leaving part of my scalp showing.
The other was matted to the side of my head. It looked like I was wearing a bad
toupee. I brushed it quickly, throwing it into a ponytail, and then headed back
out to see why he was invading my morning.

“What do you
want?” I growled again, returning to the kitchen. I stood with my hands on my
hips, hoping for a look of impatience instead of what I really felt—fear. The only
man I had been alone with for months was Nick. Besides the uneasiness I felt, I
was still embarrassed of the way we had met, and now I had the incident in my
underwear and bad hair to add to my humiliation.

He looked
comfortable, sitting at the table by the window, reading the paper and drinking
his coffee. He glanced up and smiled. “That’s not very neighborly of you. I
just came over to offer you coffee and doughnuts and this is the gratitude I
get?” His face was relaxed, a cocky smile lighting up his eyes. I was sure he
was joking except I couldn’t help but flinch at his words. If Nick had said
them, I’d end up with bruises. I took the extra coffee and swallowed a big sip,
letting the caffeine do its job, hoping to push away my dark thoughts. I had to
stop comparing this guy to Nick. All men were not like him. I knew that. Jason
was one of my best friends and he would never hurt anyone.

Feeling more
awake after the shot of caffeine, I sat down across from him, taking a doughnut
out of the box. “Okay then. What can I do for you on this lovely morning?” I
asked, sweetness dripping from the sarcasm. I forced myself to relax. Sylvia
wouldn’t have sent me here if her grandson wasn’t safe.

“I wanted to
tell you that I talked to my grandmother last night.”

Oh shit
. I couldn’t help but gulp, feeling my eyes go wide. The tiny spark
of fear turned to apprehension. “You called her at home?” I moved my hands to
my lap to hide the tremors.

“No, she was at
my mom’s,” he explained, folding the paper closed and laying it onto the table.

I breathed a
sigh of relief. I was afraid she went home early. It would be best for everyone
if she kept a safe distance from Nick.

“Why do you
sound worried that she’d be at home?”

I stuffed a
huge bite of fritter in my mouth; my hand was no longer shaking. “I’m not
worried,” I mumbled with my mouth full. “What did your grandmother say?” I
asked after I swallowed.

“She told me to
be nice to you and protect you. When I asked her why, she clammed up and handed
the phone to my mother, who didn’t know anything.” He stared at me waiting for
me to react. When I didn’t, he added, “Why do you need protection?”

“I don’t. You
know Sylvia, she’s a worrier.” His constant questioning was making me anxious.
How was I supposed get him to stop pestering me? The incessant fear knotted in
my chest and took hold.

He drummed his
finger on the table impatiently. “I’ve never known her to be secretive or
protective before. But you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“There’s
nothing to tell.”

“Really? Well
then, why, when I asked my grandmother your name, she told me to ask you? Does
she not know it?”

She probably
wasn’t sure if I would change it or not. Of course I was very relieved, since I
had. Ignoring the question about Sylvia, I answered him. “It’s Anna Smith.
What’s yours?”

“Noah Bradley.”

I stood up and
began to busy myself, empting the dishwasher I had turned on last night. “So
tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?”

“You’re
avoiding the subject.” I chose not to answer as I placed the silverware into
the drawer. “Fine, I’ll play along, but you should know I’ll find out what’s
going on. Anyway, to answer your question, I’m a carpenter.”

His threat to
figure me out hung in the air and I resisted the urge to gulp. The constant
feeling of fear hummed inside me. With the thought of keeping the subject away
from my secret, I said, “Really? I was thinking of getting some shelves made
for my work.”