Barefoot Season (31 page)

* * *

Nothing about the middle ten days of June was noteworthy. Carly found herself both grateful for the reprieve and anxious about the next crisis. Because there would be one—of that she was sure.

Helen had settled in nicely. Her calm and organized personality meshed well with the servers. Damaris had signed the letter of resignation Carly had written for her, as had Isabella. A new hostess had been hired and Cammie had been moved permanently to the kitchen. So nearly everything was in order. Everything but Michelle.

Carly worried about her but didn’t know what to do. Michelle mostly kept to her office and rarely spoke to anyone. Carly wasn’t qualified to offer help, nor could she force Michelle to seek it elsewhere. Complications, she thought, straightening the brochures in the stand by the front doors.

Gabby had finished school the week before and had started her camp, which she adored. She also had found true love with Mr. Whiskers and her affection seemed returned. The cat let Gabby dress him in doll clothes and then push him around in her old play baby stroller.

She glanced outside and saw the sun had broken through the clouds. The temperature was finally in the seventies. The warm afternoon beckoned and she slipped outside to sit on the porch for a few minutes.

She was perched on the steps when a car from the sheriff’s department pulled up. Sam climbed out.

He looked good in his khaki uniform and aviator sunglasses. He walked toward her, all confident male and powerful sexuality. If she’d been standing, she would have worried about her knees getting weak. As it was, she had to bite her lip to keep from begging him to take her, right there in front of God and everyone.

“Officer,” she said, smiling.

“Ma’am.”

She winced. “I don’t consider myself of ‘ma’am-ing’ age just yet.”

“It’s a sign of respect.” He pointed to the step, next to where she sat. “May I join you?”

She nodded.

He settled beside her. His shoulder brushed hers and she felt a jolt of heat that had nothing to do with it being summer.

“How’s it going?” she asked. “Settling into your new job all right?”

“It’s good. I like the island, the people. I’m starting to see why there are complaints about the tourists. This is exactly what I’ve been looking for.”

“That’s nice.”

“I’ve missed you.”

She angled toward him. He’d removed his sunglasses, which made him even more appealing. Temptation pulled at her. She told herself to be strong. Or at least sensible.

“We’ve hardly spent any time together,” she said bluntly. “What’s to miss?”

He grinned. “I like your sass. Let me rephrase that, then. I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I respect what you said about Michelle, but I don’t agree with it. I’d like to see you, Carly. We can take it slow. What about you and me taking your daughter out on the duck boat?”

Going out on the water was about her least favorite thing in the world, but the duck boats were safe enough. They drove around town, then went down the boat ramp, directly into the water. The drive wasn’t an issue—it was the on-the-water part she objected to. As long as she sat near where they kept the life jackets and looked at the horizon rather than the water, she would be okay.

“Sure,” she said. “Gabby loves the duck boats.” Robert had taken her last summer and she’d talked about the experience for days. Gabby’s inherited fear of the water didn’t extend to duck boats.

“Just like that?” he asked. “I thought I was going to have to convince you.”

“Apparently Michelle doesn’t care if we go out.” Right now Michelle didn’t care about anything.

“Good to know.”

“I’m worried about her. She’s not eating. I think she’s drinking a lot. She looks horrible, like she hasn’t slept in weeks.”

“I know. But I’ve already said all I can about it to her.”

Carly rolled her eyes. “Have you seen her lately?”

“No.”

“She’s getting worse. I’ve seen the news stories. I get that it’s difficult for soldiers to adjust to being back home, but this is more than that. She needs help.”

Sam drew his eyebrows together. “You make it sound serious.”

“I think it is.”

Sam looked out in the distance. “Some people need to hit rock bottom before they can move forward.”

“Maybe,” Carly said. “Look, don’t tell her I said anything. It’ll make her defensive and piss her off.”

Sam stretched out his legs. “I’ve known some sisters in my time, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen.”

“We’re not sisters.”

“Your mother married her father, or do I have that wrong?”

“They’re married.”

They’d been married for years.

Sisters. Carly stared out at the garden as she turned the word over in her head. She and Michelle were sisters. Okay, stepsisters, but still. She’d never thought of their relationship like that. Had never considered their familial bond—if you could call it that.

She wondered if putting a name to it would change anything. Neither of them had any family they were close to. Which should mean having each other was important.

Twenty-Eight

M
ichelle sat on the edge of the dock, her tennis-shoe-clad feet dangling toward the water. It was late afternoon. She should still be at the inn what with this being a busy weekend, but she had escaped. These days she just couldn’t handle all the responsibility. She knew she was leaving more and more in Carly’s care, but she couldn’t seem to summon any interest or concern.

Jared sat next to her. He’d just appeared and she didn’t have the energy to tell him to go away. As long as he kept his mouth shut, they would be fine.

She hadn’t seen much of him since her breakdown. Mostly because she’d been avoiding him. She’d been avoiding everyone.

“How’s the inn?” Jared asked, breaking the silence.

“Fine.” She started to tell him she didn’t want to talk about it but instead found herself saying, “Everything’s screwed up.”

“No. Not everything. Just you.”

She covered her face with her hands. “Don’t start with me. I don’t want to hear it.”

“You’re getting worse, not better. Your clothes are hanging on you. You keep this up, you lose more weight, you’re going to end up in the hospital.”

Mango had given her the same lecture at her last physical-therapy appointment. It was the reason she hadn’t been back to the VA hospital.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” he added.

She scrambled to her feet, then wished she’d been more careful as pain shot through her hip and down her leg.

“Stop it,” she yelled. “Just stop it. You’re not my mother. She wouldn’t care about any of this and right now that sounds pretty good. If you want me to move out, just say it and I’ll go.”

Jared stared at her, his expression unreadable. “I don’t want you to move out.”

“Then leave me alone. You’ve ruined a perfectly good afternoon.”

She picked up her shoes, turned and started walking back to the shore. Her legs felt weak, which happened a lot these day. She was also light-headed. Maybe she should eat something. Didn’t Jared always have a damn sandwich in the refrigerator?

She’d nearly made it to the end of the dock when she heard him call out behind her, “What’s the point in making it back if you only came home to die?”

His words followed her, but she didn’t react. Didn’t slow, didn’t turn back. She just kept moving. That was all she could do.

* * *

Carly looked up to find Michelle standing in the doorway to her small office, glaring at her.

She took in the sallow skin with an undercoat of gray, the slightly bloodshot eyes, the gaunt cheekbones. Worry knotted in her stomach. Her father might have died from running his car into a tree, but that had simply been a detail. In truth the alcohol had killed him. And he’d looked a lot like Michelle did now.

“You need help.”

“You’re hardly qualified.”

“You can’t go on like this,” Carly told her. “You have to know you’re getting worse, not better. Please, Michelle. Get some help. Maybe Jared—”

“Leave him out of this,” Michelle told her, her eyes flashing with feral rage. “Don’t talk to him, don’t look at him. Pretend he’s not even alive. You got that?”

Carly felt the first whisper of fear. Michelle was worse than she’d first realized. Was it possible for a person to slip over the edge and not find her way back?

“I won’t have anything to do with him,” Carly said quickly. She pressed her hands against the top of her desk, searching her mind for answers. Was there someone she could get in touch with? She had to do something. Maybe Sam would know.

Michelle sucked in air. “Look, I know you’re worried. It’s not as bad as you think. I’m fine.”

Michelle’s cell phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and stared at the screen. As she studied the number there, her face contorted, her eyes narrowing to slits, her mouth twisting.

“Stop calling me,” she screamed, then threw the phone across the room. It bounced off a stack of boxes, the ring still sounding. “Stop it. Stop it!”

Carly got up and reached for the phone. She pushed the ignore button. The phone went silent.

They stood in the small room, looking at each other. Michelle turned away first.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “That was my dad. I don’t know why he keeps phoning. I want him to leave me alone.”

“You don’t talk to him?”

“No. Why would I? You don’t talk to your mom.”

“Yeah, I do. Not often, but a couple of times a year. She came once, to visit. I wish she was more involved with Gabby, but that’s not going to happen.”

“How can you do that?” Michelle’s voice was accusing. “They left us. They were horrible, selfish people. They don’t deserve to be in our lives.”

She grabbed the phone from Carly and dropped it to the floor, then stepped on it, as if trying to crush it.

“I want them to go away. Just go away.”

The fear grew. Not for herself. Carly wasn’t concerned that Michelle would physically hurt her. Instead, she worried for her.

“Michelle,” she began.

“Don’t. Don’t say it. Just don’t.” Michelle turned in a circle, as if trapped and looking for a way out. Her eyes were wide, her face ashen. “I can’t be here. I can’t do this. Go away. Just go away.”

And then she was running down the hallway. Carly hurried after her. Michelle moved quickly, her hip obviously better. She made it to her truck, then started the engine. She roared out of the parking lot, narrowly missing a tree at the entrance.

“Mom?”

Carly saw her daughter carrying Mr. Whiskers. “Yes, honey?”

“What’s wrong with Michelle?”

“I don’t know,” Carly admitted, touching her daughter’s hair and forcing herself to smile. “But she’ll be better soon.”

“Promise?”

Carly wondered how wrong it was to lie to her child. Not that she had a choice—Gabby was too young to deal with the truth.

“Yes. I promise.”

* * *

Michelle sat in a chair in the back corner of the bar, shaking. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there or how much she’d had to drink. She half expected the bartender to refuse to serve her, but he didn’t seem to notice how close she was to snapping. Apparently what mattered was that her credit card cleared.

She told herself she had to eat something, even if the thought of food made her stomach cramp in protest. She was sinking—she could feel it. Every day was harder. It wasn’t even what had happened in Afghanistan, although that still haunted her. It was everything else. Being here, being anywhere, was too hard.

But she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Which meant what? That it was time not to be anywhere? Was that the answer?

She closed her eyes, then opened them, nearly as afraid of the dark as she was of the light. She reached for her glass, but was shaking too hard to pick it up. Weakness invaded her. She wondered if she could simply die right there and no one would know why.

“Come on.”

The voice came from in front of her. She blinked, then saw Jared standing by the table.

“What?”

“Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

He took hold of her arm and drew her to her feet, then half led, half carried her to the door.

He was going to make her do something, she thought. Make her face what was wrong, force her to get better. He wasn’t going to let her talk her way out of it. With the realization came both fear and relief. Maybe he could show her another way out.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Home.”

Not to a hospital? Not to a rehab center or intervention?

“And then what? I’ll just leave. I’ll come back here.” She wanted the words to sound defiant, but had a feeling her voice was too small.

“That’s up to you.”

The drive back to the house took less than five minutes. Jared helped her out of the front seat and onto the ground. He led her to the back door.

She knew there was going to be a lecture and a part of her hoped he was able to get through to her. She had her doubts, though. What could he possibly say that she hadn’t already told herself? He wasn’t magic. He was just a guy with a weak spot for those in need.

Despite the fact that it was after nine, it was still light out, so she could see everything clearly. Even the dog tied up by the door.

She came to a stop and stared. The dog was a good size—a mixed breed with a lot of Lab and maybe some shepherd. It had short hair, like a yellow Lab, with a dark muzzle and dark ears. When it saw them, it cowered, moving back as far as the rope around its neck would let it. The animal half turned.

Michelle gasped. She could see welts on the side of the dog and all its ribs. The animal radiated fear. It began to shake so hard it collapsed, then scrambled, trying to get into the corner of the small porch.

She felt sick. “What happened to him?”

“Who knows? A friend of mine works with animal rescue. This little guy was picked up this morning. He’d been abused, then abandoned. I brought him here. He needs to be taken care of. Fed and rehabilitated.”

She tore her gaze away from the dog and stared at Jared. “You’re going to do that?”

“No. You are. He doesn’t have anyone in the world, Michelle.”

She took a step back. “I don’t know anything about dogs.”

“Then you’re going to have to learn pretty fast. The vet says he’s not sick. Just hurt and starving. Scared as hell. The people who were supposed to take care of him didn’t. He might have been tortured. We’re not sure.” Jared fished his keys out of his pocket and started back toward the truck.

“There’s some dog food in the house. You can figure the rest of it out as you go.”