Books Can Be Deceiving (6 page)

“This is very nice of you,” she said.

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Does that mean you’ll hold my favorite authors for me again?”

She grinned. “Oh, that was just a hollow threat. I could never deny a reader his favorite author.”

“I suspected that, but I’m relieved to hear you say so.”

The truck hit a pothole, and they bounced around a curve. Lindsey glanced out at the darkness that she knew was the churning sea.

“How do the islanders get through these storms?” she asked. “It must be scary.”

“Only during the hurricanes,” he said. “Mary and I grew up on Bell Island. We had a tree house in an oak tree at the water’s edge. We used to love to camp out in it during summer thunderstorms.”

“And your parents let you?”

“They didn’t say no.”

“Meaning you didn’t ask.”

He grinned, and Lindsey shook her head. She had a feeling Mary and Mike Sullivan had been a trial to their parents. They were both very much like the island they had grown up on. They had a streak of wildness in them that no amount of time living off island would ever tame.

“I’ve been reading up on the islands and their history. It’s fascinating.”

“Don’t believe everything you read. Creekers are known to have vivid imaginations.”

“Creekers?” she asked.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard that term,” he said. “That’s what we call anyone who lives on the islands or in town.”

“Creekers,” Lindsey repeated. “As in Briar
Creek
.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Once a Creeker, always a Creeker, no matter where life takes you.”

“Was it hard to leave your island when you grew up?” she asked.

“Yes and no,” he said. She waited, but he added nothing more.

Lindsey let out an exasperated huff and said, “And you were doing so well.”

“What do you mean?” He looked perplexed.

“I mean that this is the most I have ever heard you say in the six months I’ve been living here. Getting words out of you is harder than shucking a pearl out of an oyster. Now let’s try it again; was it hard to leave your island?”

By the light of the dashboard, she saw his dimples deepen. He was clearly amused, but he took a deep breath and said, “I was ready to go when I went. I knew I wanted a career on a ship, so it was the U.S. Naval Academy and then fifteen years of active duty. When I finished serving, I was ready to come home, and the folks aren’t as young as they used to be, so the timing was right.”

They had reached the three-way intersection, and Sully took the road that would lead to her house, or rather Nancy’s house, where she was a tenant. She didn’t wonder that he knew where she lived. Briar Creek was such a small town that if Mrs. Isaac on Grover Street baked a pie, the whole town knew it in a matter of moments. Of course, given that she baked an amazing apple pie, it wasn’t such a surprise.

Sully parked the truck in front of the tall white captain’s house. It had reminded Lindsey of a triple-layer cake the first time she had seen it; with three stories trimmed in gingerbread, it had a festive air and bespoke a happy residence. She had wanted to move in immediately.

The wind was fierce, and it slammed against the windshield. Lindsey glanced up at her apartment on the third floor, afraid she might have left some windows open, but was distracted by something moving on the roofline. Something white, illuminated by a flash of bolt lightning, was up on the widow’s walk. She gasped and Sully followed her gaze.

“What is that?” she asked.

Sully squinted and then his face turned grim.

“Oh no, not again. Stay here,” he ordered. He jumped out of the truck and raced toward the house.

L
indsey watched him dash through the rain to the house. She was out of the truck and following him before the thought had fully formed in her mind.

The front door opened into a small vestibule. A wide staircase led up to the second floor. Sully was already on the landing above as Lindsey pounded up the stairs after him.

He paused to bang on the door to the second-floor apartment. This was Charlie Peyton’s apartment. He was Nancy’s nephew, and he worked for Ian and Sully’s tour-boat company.

“Charlie!” Sully called. He banged again, but there was no answer.

“I think he’s out,” Lindsey gasped as she caught up to him.

The storm’s fierce wind rattled the shutters on the dormer window at the end of the landing. Sully broke into a run, taking the stairs that led up to the third floor, and Lindsey’s apartment, two at a time.

At the end of the landing, a narrow door stood open. It banged against the wall as the wind blasted past it. Lindsey could feel the bitter wind tugging at her hair and clothes as if trying to push her away. Rain pelted onto the wooden floor, making it slick.

Sully hurried up the narrow stairs, which led to the small widow’s walk on the top of the roof. Lindsey followed. She had to squint to be able to see against the assault of the storm, but it took only a moment to make out the huddled shape of a person, leaning against the short wrought-iron rail and staring out at the sea.

Sully caught the woman in his arms and pulled her back from the edge. She didn’t resist. When he turned her toward the stairs, it took Lindsey a moment to recognize her landlord, Nancy.

With her gray hair plastered to her head, her bathrobe sodden with rain and her face looking pale and strained, Lindsey could hardly reconcile her with the woman who always had a fresh batch of cookies in her oven and a twinkle in her eyes.

“Let’s get her inside!” Sully yelled.

It broke Lindsey out of her trance, and she hustled down the stairs ahead of them. Sully put Nancy gently on her feet, and Lindsey grabbed her and kept her upright so that he could close the hatch and latch the door behind them.

Nancy’s lips had a tinge of blue, and her skin was icy to the touch. She needed a warm bath immediately.

“It’s all right, Nancy,” she said. “I’m here.”

Nancy looked at her without recognition.

“Come on, Nance,” Sully said. “He’ll make it home. Don’t you worry.”

Nancy turned to him, and the last of her strength seemed to give way. Sully scooped her back up into his arms and carried her down the two flights of stairs to the first floor, where she lived.

“I’ll start a bath for her,” Lindsey said. She hurried ahead and charged into Nancy’s apartment, which was thankfully unlocked, heading straight for the master bath.

As she fussed with the tap and started filling the tub, Sully brought Nancy in and sat her on a small dressing stool at the vanity table in the corner.

“I’ll go make some hot chocolate,” he said. “And I’ll see if I can track Charlie down.”

Lindsey glanced up from the tub. “Good idea. We’ll be out as soon as I’ve got her warmed up.”

Lindsey poured in a healthy dollop of lavender bubble bath, hoping the smell would soothe and the bubbles would maintain Nancy’s modesty. When the water was ready, Lindsey helped Nancy get out of her wet things and climb into the tub.

Nancy didn’t say a word. She sat in the water and let Lindsey fuss over her. There were so many questions Lindsey wanted to ask, but she knew now wasn’t the time. Nancy leaned her head back against the tub and closed her eyes. As Lindsey watched, a tear slipped down her right cheek and splashed into the bubbles.

Without opening her eyes, Nancy reached for Lindsey’s hand, and when her sudsy, wet fingers closed over it, her voice was low and husky as she whispered, “Thank you.”

When the bathwater started to cool, Lindsey helped Nancy dry off and get dressed in fresh nightclothes and then tucked her into bed. The storm still howled outside, but as soon as Nancy’s head landed on her pillow, she fell into a deep slumber. Lindsey drained the tub and shut off the light. A small night-light was on in the bathroom, giving off just enough of a glow to allow Lindsey to navigate the furniture.

She pulled the bedroom door halfway shut behind her. A short hallway led past two other rooms, a spare bedroom and a home office. A large living room, filled with plants and paintings of the sea, as well as a large fireplace, was next. Lindsey was about to turn the corner, which led to the kitchen and dining room, when Sully appeared bearing a tray of hot chocolate.

“She’s already asleep,” Lindsey said.

“Oh, well.” Sully glanced at the tray and then at the two armchairs in front of the fireplace. “It’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“And we should stay for a bit to make sure she’s okay,” Lindsey said. Meanwhile, she was thinking there was no way Sully was setting one toe out the front door until he explained to her what the heck had just happened.

“Excellent. I’ll start the fire.” Sully handed her the tray.

Lindsey placed it on the short table between the two brown-leather wing chairs. Nancy’s fireplace was gas, so Sully only had to flip it on and turn it to low, so as not to waste gas.

They sat across from each other and cradled their mugs of chocolate while the heat of the small fire washed over them.

Lindsey took a sip of her chocolate and glanced at Sully in surprise. It was thick and rich without being too sweet.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows. “Did you think my sister was the only one who could cook?”

“This is delicious,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said. “I learned how to make it when I was overseas.”

Lindsey studied him over the rim of her mug. He looked as windblown and soggy as she felt, and somehow that only added to his attractiveness. She pushed a sodden hank of hair out of her face and had a feeling it did not add to hers. As much as she had sworn off men, she had to admit that she found Captain Sully very intriguing.

“Why was Nancy up there?” she asked. “And why did you say ‘not again’ when we saw her?”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to ask me that,” he said. “I’m not sure it’s my story to tell, but . . .”

“But?”

“If you’re going to be living here, you should probably know, and it might be too hard for Nancy to tell you herself,” he said. He was quiet for a moment. He stared into the fire as if trying to come to a decision and then glanced up at her. “You know Nancy is a widow?”

Lindsey nodded.

“Her husband was a ferryboat captain. Back in 1979, he was returning across Long Island Sound and a sudden storm blew in. His ship went down in the Sound. There were no survivors.”

“Oh, that’s terrible.”

“The night he died, when they came to tell her that his ship had gone down, they found her up on the widow’s walk,” Sully said. “Somehow, she knew.”

“Oh, poor Nancy. That must have been horrible.”

“I remember her husband,” Sully said. “Captain Jake—he was great. He’d take all of us island kids out on his boat. He was always laughing and telling bad jokes, like, what did one candle say to another?”

“I don’t know,” Lindsey said.

“Are you going out tonight? Ba dum bum.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Lindsey said. “No wonder you kids loved him.”

“I was seven when his boat went down,” Sully said. “I’ll never forget it. It was an awful storm with fierce wind, pelting rain, booming thunder and lightning that ripped open the sky.”

“A lot like tonight then,” Lindsey said. She glanced at the large bay window where the rain hammered against the glass pane as if looking for a way in.

Sully sipped his cocoa and said, “Captain Jake should have been home before the storm hit, but it surprised them out in the Sound, and on his last run of the day, his ship got swept off course and ran aground miles from where it should have been. The hull was ripped open on the rocks, and the big waves caused by the storm took the ship down.”

Lindsey blew out a breath. They both took long sips of their rapidly cooling cocoa.

“It’s been thirty-two years, and every now and then, when there is a storm like that one, she takes to pacing the widow’s walk again, as if she’s still looking for him.”

Lindsey tipped her head and considered him. “Is that why her nephew lives here?”

“Yes, Charlie is supposed to keep an eye on her,” he said. “He’s usually more responsible than this.”

As if their conversation had beckoned him, the door from the vestibule burst open, and in came a young man, soaked to the bone and looking scared.

“Aunt Nancy!” he cried.

“She’s fine,” Sully said. He stood and took in the sight of the soggy young man in front of him. “What happened to you?”

“My car broke down,” he said. “I had to run all the way here from the Post Road.”

Charlie was whip slender with dyed black hair that usually stood on end but was now plastered to his head. He had so many piercings and tattoos that he looked like the poster child for body art gone wrong. Although he worked for Sully by day, his ambition was to be a famous rock star, and most of his free time was spent rehearsing for gigs, playing gigs or recording new songs.

“She’s all right,” Lindsey said.

His shoulders sagged with relief. Lindsey rose and handed him the third cup of cocoa, which had been for Nancy.

“Come sit by the fire,” she said. “We’ll be lucky if we don’t all catch pneumonia.”

“Thank you both,” Charlie said. “If anything had happened to her . . .”

“No worries,” Sully said. “You did your best to get here.”

Charlie let loose a shudder, and Lindsey had the feeling it wasn’t just from the cold.

“I’d better get going,” Sully said. “See you tomorrow, Charlie?”

“Yes, sir,” he said. “And thanks again.”

Lindsey walked Sully to the door. Now that they were all home, she wanted to lock the front door.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “And for helping with Nancy. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been by myself.”

“You’d have managed,” he said. He studied her for a moment, looking as if he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t.