Past Due (4 page)

Maureen looked nervous. “Now, Jen, if you don’t want to take the pictures I am more than happy to—”

“Shush, Maureen. You’re not paying for my repairs. Why is it that people are always trying to shove me off on some guy ... or trying pay my bills?”

Lois smiled. “That’s just how the island works. We take care of our own.”

Jenna crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “How am I ever supposed to be a modern, independent woman around here?”

“Trust me dear, it’s overrated,” Lois said.

Maureen agreed with a nod to her head.

Jenna sighed, defeated. “I guess I’ll just have to take you guys’ word for it.”

“But then, how the hell would we know?” Lois admitted with slap
a
to Maureen’s leg. “We’ve lived on this sand bar our whole lives.”

Jenna ignored their smug smiles as she wrapped up Milo’s pie. She said farewell and headed up the road. Jenna couldn’t help but wonder if her pathetic attempts at financial survival and her single status ranked as the most popular topics of conversation on the island, second only to the weather- but only during hurricane season.

***

At the Cape Hatteras Light Station, a smattering of workers assembled to get the light and museum ready for the re-opening. Russell Hooper was one of those men. Normally he was outside overseeing the grounds crew, but today he was called inside.

He poured two cups of coffee and carried them to the meeting room and set one in front of the tall, dark-haired man sitting at the table. Russell looked him over and seemed to approve. The man dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt. “Have a cup of joe, son. It’s black. You want cream and sugar, it’s right there. You here to fill out an application?”

“No. Just waiting for Esther to tell me what to do.”

“Ahh, Esther. She’s in charge of you, eh? Well, she’s the one bossing me today too. Made me stop work to come meet some squid from the governor’s office.” Russell sat and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I suppose a break in the AC won’t kill me.” Russell took a drink and reached for a cigarette in his breast pocket, then sighed. “Ah, hell, always forget the smoke Nazis will attack if I light up. Hard habit to break, you know?”

“I’ve heard. Never had the habit myself.”

“Good thing. Smart boy. Started when I turned 17. Guess I thought it made me look taller.” Russell laughed. “Wonder where the hell...” Russell looked to the door then leaned across the table and whispered, “Hey, son, you know why politicians wear ties?”

The man shook his head and Russell laughed at his own punch line before he delivered it: “To keep the foreskin from coming up over their heads.” Russell slapped the table and relaxed in his chair. “One of the chimney movers told me that one when they were here. Damned good crew. Awesome stuff those boys did. Moved that light some two thousand feet.” He took a slow sip then asked, “You looking to be a ranger?”

The question went unanswered. Esther Smith, the office manager, entered the room with platter of cookies and doughnuts. She set them on the table and smiled.

Russell turned to Esther, “Where’s the guy from the capital, Esther? I don’t have all damn day for this crap.”

Esther smiled and slowly nodded her head forward.

Russell turned his attention to the man sitting next to him. He looked him over again. He stood well over six feet, which towered over Russell’s own five and a half feet. He had broad shoulders, and a well-muscled body that rippled through the thin cotton shirt. His skin glowed with a healthy swarthiness. His black hair was trimmed short, but his loose curls were untamed. He had a firm jaw, deep brown eyes and a straight nose. “You’re the squid?”

The man nodded.

Russell shook his head. “Would never have guessed it. I mean you’re good looking enough, but in a sturdy way, not like some pretty boy.”

“Russell,” Esther shook her head back and forth as she scowled at him.

Russell shrugged, his bald head turned red. “I, ah, s’pose I’m not real smooth with my words. I, ah, I…”

Esther jumped in, “Russ Hooper, just be still before you stuff both feet in your mouth. This is Mr. Coulter, the governor’s aid, and he’s here to check in on the light.”

Mr. Coulter leaned forward and extended a hand to the flush-faced Russell. Russell gawked at it as if it were somehow a separate entity from the man. It was a big hand, more like a paw, and it was calloused, not smooth and manicured.

“Hello, Mr.?” Mr. Coulter inquired with a grin.

“Call me Russell. And forgive my foot in mouth disease, sad case I got of it too.”

Mr. Coulter’s laughter echoed in the room. “Russ, I’ve been surrounded by lawyers, lobbyists, and politicians for so long, I’d forgotten how good it felt to be around real people. And trust me; I’ll be sure to remember your joke when I get back to the capital.”

Russell’s round, red face turned crimson. He tried to explain, “Just hate to waste time, Mr. Coulter. Been anxious to get to the meeting with the engineers. They’re finishing up the last infrastructure check. ”

“So, you’ve been in charge of the move?”

“No, sir. I’m just in charge of the local labor. The chimney company that come down from Buffalo had their own people. My people are the bull dozer operators and such. We’re working on putting the grounds back to rights. Tore a lot of stuff up moving this building and the keeper’s station and what not. And there’s painting to be done and some landscaping, we want it to look real nice when it re-opens.”

“So, it’s gone well?”

“Certainly has. This has been an amazing job. You realize when they sawed the light from her base with that big diamond tipped blade,” Russell explained as his hands re-enacted each step, “the light was resting on floating pine timbers. Not a lick of decay to the timbers. Nestled right under ground in fresh water as good as the day they were laid. Awesome what those men achieved without engineering degrees and such. Shame to have to move her, but a good storm could have washed her away. This was history, son. Real history.”

“I agree. I’ve been watching over the internet. Fascinating.”

“Yeah, me too. When I go home. The wife thinks I’m nuts. She wouldn’t watch. Certain the light would tumble before her eyes. But it didn’t. Got to admire the work they done. Taking a whole lighthouse and moving it by rail? Unbelievable. They planned the job out to the last detail. My hard hat’s off to them.”

Esther joined them at the table. “I have that photographer coming in, like we talked about. She’s real pretty.”

“Ah, hell Esther the man’s here to work, not find a date,” Russell groaned.

Mr. Coulter nodded his head in agreement with Russ, “No offense, mam, but the last thing I need is a woman.”

“Oh? Your secretary said you weren’t married.”

Mr. Coulter looked stunned. Russ patted his forearm, “Don’t be too hard on yer secretary when you get back son. Esther asks that question of everybody.”

“Why Russ Hooper, I only asked because if he had a wife and some kids, then I could have had a little something prepared to welcome them. I was just being considerate. And for you to assume…”

“So the photographer you got coming isn’t a pretty little single gal?”

“Why yes she is, but that’s just coincidence.”

Russ shook his head, “Come on Mr. Coulter, let me take you out and show you around while cupid sharpens her arrows.”

Esther gasped, “Why Russ Hooper! That is by far the most sexist thing…”

Esther’s words were interrupted by a soft knock on the open door frame. The three turned in unison.

Esther smiled. Russell rolled his eyes. Mr. Coulter’s mouth dropped open. Jenna Austin had arrived. Esther hurried to make the introduction, but Mr. Coulter stepped past her.

“Jenna Privett.” His voice remained calm and smooth. “Imagine running into you again. Still busy working?”

Chapter
3

Jenna’s heart lurched, and her mouth went dry. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. All her thoughts were consumed with turning and running right back down the stairs, but her legs felt heavy as concrete. She stood there, body stiff, all but cold shaking hands. Gripping the camera bag, she debated the odds that it was him again. God was evidently torturing her.

“So, you kids know each other? What a coincidence,” Esther said, smiling at Jenna.

Throwing up cinnamon roll was a distinct possibility Jenna thought as she swallowed hard and tried to smile. The smile ended up being little more than a twitch. Tres took a step closer and she responded with the instincts of hunted prey. He stopped, but appeared to be assessing, not retreating. Jenna stood trapped in his gaze. She couldn’t drag her eyes from the warm brown ones that held hers even though her stomach flip-flopped, and her temperature rose.

Tres took another step forward and Jenna stepped back. His eyebrow rose, but he made no further move toward her. He turned to Esther and answered her question, “Jenna and I were friends a long time ago.” He then turned to Russell, “Well, Russ, if you’re ready to go, then I am too.” He touched Jenna’s arm lightly as he passed. “Maybe I’ll see you later?” Jenna nodded, still too dumbstruck to speak.

“Why, of course you will,” Esther announced. “She’ll be taking the pictures.”

“You ready, Jenna?” Russ asked.

“Can I catch up in a second? I need to get my…” Jenna’s mind searched for a reason to stall so she could get her bearings, “…my gear ready. Then I’ll be right out.”

“All right then. Ten minutes enough?”

“Plenty,” Jenna lied. Eons wouldn’t be enough time. She took a deep breath and watched Tres leave the room as if she was transported to another planet. Chip or Chaz. It was Charles. Charles Winston Coulter the third, Tres for short. She should have known the name Lois couldn’t think of was Charles. He gave her a lazy smile and followed Russ down the creaking oiled stairs. Her eyes were fixed on his retreating form until his shoulders disappeared below the banister.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Esther inquired, offering Jenna a cup of coffee. Jenna accepted it with a nod, her voice still frozen in her throat.

“Was he a friend of Jake’s?”

Jenna shook her head. Slowly, she recognized the look of concern, confusion and interest on the woman’s face, so she answered quickly, “He’s just a friend from a long time ago.” Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment as she thought of how composed he was compared to her own anxious response. Clearing her throat, she explained, “I was just surprised to walk in and find him, of all people, here. Tres Coulter doesn’t run in our circles.”

“Trace? I thought his name was Charlie?”

“Charlie?” Jenna laughed; she couldn’t imagine him being a Charlie, or a Chip, Chuck or Chaz. He was Tres. “Tres is a nickname.”

“You’re awfully pale, Jenna. Are you sure you’re all right?” She then added in a hushed tone, not waiting for an answer: “Was he...special?”

“Oh, no.” Jenna nearly jumped out of her skin. She modulated her tone to keep it light. In this town gossip spread like unchecked mildew, and she didn’t need her name linked at all with Tres Coulter’s. “Just a friend. We lost touch the summer I graduated from high school. My family problems probably scared him off. And life’s been so busy, I forgot all about him. I guess that’s why I was so shocked to see him today.”

“Well, I suppose it’d be easy to lose touch during the fiasco with your dad and your poor sister, God rest her soul. Maybe you’ll have time to catch up on a friendship while he’s here?”

“Absolutely not,” Jenna blurted, and then said with a sigh and a smile, “I barely knew him for more than a few summers.”

“Oh, a summer romance.”

“You islanders,” Jenna teased. “You sound like Lois. I’m just not the romantic type.”

“Saints alive, child. How can you live and breathe this island air and not believe in romance?” Esther’s sharp eyes were on Jenna probably evaluating every gesture and expression so she could make a proper report to the grapevine. Jenna grinned, sipped her coffee, and said, “I guess I’m just too practical to fall for happily ever after. Fairy tales are only real until the last page is read. Close the book and it’s over.”

Esther clucked her tongue, “You’re too young to be so jaded, but I suppose that’s for another time. Right now, you better get on out there and get those pictures.”

“I agree. Time to get to work.” She grabbed her equipment and headed down the steps, not slowing until she reached the exit door. Then, the thought hit her.

Tres was on the other side of the door. Flesh and blood, beating black heart and all. Just open the door and get it over with, she chastised herself. But still she couldn’t propel her hand to touch the door knob. She couldn’t face him, not yet. Sliding to a window in a vacant room, she watched him move about the grounds while she remained safely shielded by a pane of glass. His face was more defined and his eyes larger, wiser. He’s even more beautiful than he was fifteen years ago. He has no right to be here. Pushing her soft lower lip against her teeth and biting at the tender flesh, she stared out the window. Her eyes followed his every movement as he toured the grounds. He turned and stared at the building. She jumped back from the window, tipping her coffee cup and spilling it down the front of her shirt. She groaned and wiped at the white cotton. It was useless. She couldn’t wipe away a coffee stain, nor could she escape this moment. She had to face him.