Raquel Byrnes (17 page)

“Aren’t they all?” Phillip said and smiled. “Well, O’Shay said he is down by the meadow. Shall we?”

He offered me his arm, and I took it, caught up in his good mood and friendly manner. We walked down the front road to the path that led through the woods.

“Do you live here on Noble Island?”

“Absolutely not,” Phillip said. “I’d die of boredom. No, I’m more of a traveler…like old Davenport up there. I hate to stay put.”

We crested the hill that looked out over the meadow, and I saw Simon near the line of trees. He walked back and forth beating the grasses with a stick across the spot where he’d found me last night.

“Simon,” I called, and he glanced up.

The smile on his face faltered when he saw Phillip.

“Hello there, cousin,” Phillip said, apparently oblivious to Simon’s reaction. “Have you put on weight?”

20

“Good to see you again, Phillip,” Simon said and shook his cousin’s hand. He looked more annoyed than pleased. “When did you get in?”

“The storm blew me into town,” Phillip said and smiled. “Like a wicked carnival.”

Simon rolled his eyes and went back to thrashing the grasses with the stick, moving away from us to the area where I fell last night.

I cleared my throat, not sure what to do with the awkward silence.

Phillip didn’t let it bother him. Bending to pick a yellow flower, he handed it to me with a flourish.

“Did I hear you jingling, darling?” he asked. Realizing he was referring to the anklet, I smiled and pulled up my hem. Pointing my toe, I made the tiny silver bells tinkle. He let out a low whistle. “A gift from an admirer?”

“I’m not sure, actually,” I said and noticed Simon watching us out of the corner of his eye. “I’m going into the village later today to find out.”

“Well, you might want to take care. I understand the storm blew down a power line on the north side.”

“I’m terrible with direction,” I said and cringed. “Is that near the shops or the ferry dock?”

“The ferry,” Simon said and looked at me. His expression softened and he smiled. “You look lovely.”

Warmth crept up my cheeks, and I did a quick curtsy, trying to play off the rush of butterflies in my stomach.

Phillip looked at me and then at Simon, a sly smile sliding across his face. “Well, if you’d like, I can accompany you into the village, Rosetta. I may have just arrived, but I spent many summers and holidays here with the Hale clan.”

“You’re not a Hale?” I raised a brow.

“No,” Simon said and bent to pick up the flashlight from last night, handing it to me. “He’s a Cotropi.”

“I thought you were cousins.” I looked at their opposite colorings and wondered if I’d been the butt of a joke, but Phillip nodded.

“We are,” he said and chuckled. “My mother was Uncle Davenport’s sister. Her married name is Cotropi. My father is of eastern European decent.”

“Oh.” I felt silly. Of course that would make them cousins. It also explained the opposite appearance of the two men. Though, as I looked at the two of them, they had a similar angle to their noses and jaws. But while Phillip was pleasantly handsome, Simon struck me as magnetic, almost dangerous. I smiled when he turned and caught my gaze. Remembering I wanted to ask him about Lucien, the smile died on my lips.

“I wanted to speak with you about something if you have a chance later,” I said.

“Why not now?”

“Well…” My gaze went to Phillip.

Putting his hands up in mock surrender, Phillip smiled and took a step back.

“Say no more, dear Rose. I’m off to see if Uncle is awake yet.”

“I didn’t mean to run you off, Phillip,” I said.

“How much do you want to wager I can talk Tuttle into serving breakfast out in the garden? What say you, Rose? Want to eat in the sunshine while it’s still out?”

“Oh, Lavender would love that, too!” I said, remembering our tea party from earlier. I was worried she’d still be upset from last night. “Would you see if she’s up, also?”

“For you, anything,” Phillip said with a bow. He kissed the top of my hand and turned towards the house.

I watched him leave before turning back to Simon. His pale eyes were already on me, a strange look on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “You just seem to like him.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not at all,” Simon said. “Everyone does.”

“OK,” I said, puzzled. “Then why are you annoyed?”

“I’m not.” His words didn’t match the shadow that crossed his face, and I watched him whip at the grasses silently. The crisp blue oxford shirt and slate trousers he wore were perfectly pressed and the image of him in the photo slipped behind my eyes; bare-chested and savage. How could the two Simons inhabit the same body? The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows, and I glanced at the muscles of his forearms as he swung the stick. Not the arms of an art historian whiling away the day in an office. “He’s charm and not much else, you know.”

“I know,” I said, and a smirk pulled at my mouth. Was Simon jealous? “I’ve met countless Phillips in my other life.”

“I didn’t find anything out here,” Simon said and threw the stick into the nearby tree line. He stood staring into the forest, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Animal or otherworldly.”

“Nothing?” I searched the clearing near the tree line.

“Just markings that look an awful lot like your footprints and mine.”

I stood with my arms crossed, not believing there was no sign of what I saw. The look on Simon’s face made frustration burn in my stomach.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you saw something.” He shrugged. “I just don’t know what.”

He didn’t look convinced. This didn’t seem like the time to ask him about Lucien. I let my head fall back, my face to the sun. Clouds, puffy and white, floated lazily across the trees. So beautiful and so ominous, Noble Island left me off balance. My gaze went to Simon, who stood watching me.

“What did you want to speak with me about?”

“It can wait for now,” I said.

“You’re sure?”

I glanced at Phillip’s receding form. His presence seemed to throw Simon off. “Are you coming to breakfast?” I asked finally, defeated.

“No, you go ahead.” He shook his head. “I have something I need to do.”

“But your cousin.”

“Will still be there for lunch.” Simon reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry, Rosetta. I wish I had found what you wanted me to see.”

He turned and walked into the dark of the woods. I wished he wasn’t always doing that. I wished for once he’d stay with me.

****

“Well, boy,” Davenport said with his teacup midway to his lips. “What brings you back to us this time?”

“Just a visit.” Phillip sat back in the wicker chair and smiled, his hands out at his sides. “Need there be more?”

Davenport harrumphed and sipped his tea. Still, a slight smile played across his features. He was obviously glad to see Phillip.

I sat opposite them under the gazebo.

Mrs. Tuttle fussed with a tray of eggs and toast before setting it on the table. She shot an irritated look in Phillip’s direction before heading back to the house.

“I’m glad you decided to come out, Mr. Hale.” I separated orange slices on my plate and looked around. “Did you tell Lavender about breakfast in the garden?”

“She wasn’t in her bed,” Phillip answered and shrugged. “Maybe she’ll make an appearance for lunch.”

“Really?” I looked at the rows of rose bushes, hoping to see her bouncing curls or ribbons. “I should go and find her.”

“She’ll be fine,” Davenport grumped. “You can save the strawberries if you want to. They’re the only thing she’ll eat out of all of this, anyway.”

“Your soft side is showing,” I said as I gathered the berries in a bowl, smiling.

Phillip caught my eye and winked. “He just looks like a bear on the outside,” he said.

Tires on the gravel out front stopped Davenport’s comment, and he craned his neck to see up the driveway. The topiaries blocked the view from the gazebo and he reached for his cane.

“Who would that be?” he asked.

I helped him to his feet. His hands were shaking.

“Tuttle!”

She poked her head out the kitchen window. “It’s the sheriff.”

“Noble Island has a sheriff?” I asked, shocked. “It’s such a small island.”

“Which is why we share Sheriff Levine with Orca and San Juan Islands,” Phillip said. “He doesn’t even have an office here. Just a substation.”

We walked the path to the front of the house.

Sheriff Levine stood in all of his beige uniform glory on the stone steps, hat in hand. Brown hair, athletic, he looked barely older than Simon. A smile crinkled the corners of his dark eyes.

“Mr. Hale,” he said, extending his hand. “Just stopped by for a visit.”

“Seems to be going around,” Davenport said, and they shook.

“Oh, yes.” Levine nodded at me. “You must be Ms. Ryan.”

“I think he meant…” I realized Phillip wasn’t with us. Recovering, I smiled at Levine. “I mean, nice to meet you, Sheriff.”

“Is there a problem?” Davenport asked, leaning heavily on his cane.

I worried he was getting too weak. I hoped Dr. Fliven’s visit could help to clear up my worries about Davenport’s health.

“No, no,” Sheriff Levine said, shaking his head. “Just, you know, popping by to see how things are going on the islands.”

“Well, Ms. Ryan, here, demands we keep coffee on hand,” Davenport said and winked at me. “Care to join us?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Levine followed Davenport back.

A flutter of curtain on the second floor caught my eye. I went to the breakfast table and grabbed the bowl of strawberries.

“I’m going to find Lavender,” I said.

Davenport waved his hand dismissively as he and Levine started in on the subject of boats. I glanced around for Phillip, didn’t find him, and guessed he must have gone to find Simon. Upstairs on the landing, the door to the linen closet stood ajar, and I walked up to it quietly and tapped with my nails. It slammed shut.

“I guess I’ll just have to throw these strawberries away,” I said with my mouth to the crack. Silence, and then the closet door opened with a squeak.

“Do you really have strawberries?” Lavender asked.

I held the bowl out, and her little hand snaked out and grabbed one before disappearing back into the closet.

“Why won’t you come out, Lala?” I asked. “Are you still upset about last night?”

“No.” I heard her chewing, and then her hand came out again, palm up.

“Then what?” I placed a berry on her palm, and she took it. “We’re eating in the garden. In the gazebo. You love that.”

“I don’t like visitors,” she said, but pushed the door open. She pulled me in by my hand, and I lay half inside, half on the stairs on my back next to her.

The closet was small, really only meant to hold jackets for guests or tablecloths. Lavender’s drawings papered the walls and pink plastic beads dangled from the hangar pole like sparkly rain. Wicker baskets piled with all types of trinkets and crafts lined the back of the space. She spent a lot of time in here playing.

“You mean Phillip?” I asked.

Lavender didn’t answer. Instead, she fell back onto her pile of colorful pillows, pulling one over her face.

“Thank you for going out to look for my mommy, Rosie,” Lavender whispered from under the pillow. “You’re very brave.”

“Well,” I said and lifted the pillow a bit, peeking underneath. “I only managed to fall in the mud and get rained on.”

She giggled and wrapped her fingers around my thumb. Sighing, she pulled a strawberry under the pillow, and I heard her chewing.

“I still think you’re brave.”

“I think you are, too.”

“Me?”

“Well, yeah,” I said.

Lavender finished the strawberries and then was silent. After a minute, she sighed. “Do you think Mrs. Tuttle made some pancakes?”

“I can go and check,” I said, and she flipped the pillow off, nodding. “OK, you stay here, and I’ll be right back.”

Leaving her, I walked down to the kitchen. As I approached, I heard Mrs. Tuttle’s voice crack with anger.

“…have to get him to leave.”

“Well, I don’t know how we’re going to do that,” O’Shay answered back.

I stopped with my hand to the door wondering if I should go in.

“He can’t stay here. Not now. He’ll find out,” Mrs. Tuttle hissed. “Do something.”

“Like what?”

I felt bad listening to a private conversation and backed away from the door. My hair caught on a frame knocking it to the floor with a crash.

Mrs. Tuttle pushed through the door, her face angry. “What are you doing creeping around out here?”

“I wasn’t,” I held up the empty bowl. “Lavender wanted pancakes, and I thought—”

“You thought why not, right? Tuttle’s not doing anything. First Phillip, and now this.” She walked back into the kitchen, and I followed her, catching sight of O’Shay outside walking away from the house. He looked back over his shoulder at me, his face tense.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do than play short order cook to this entire family.”

I didn’t tell her I thought that
was
her job.

“Should I tell her no?”

“No, Ms. Ryan,” she grumbled. “Have a seat. They’ll be ready in a minute.”

I slumped into a chair, my elbows on the table, head on my fists, and watched her bang around the kitchen gathering ingredients.

The light changed, growing darker, and my gaze went to the sky outside. Clouds like dark smears muted the sun, and cool wind wafted in through the screen door. I sighed. So much for the lovely day.

I watched her work, her jaw clenching and unclenching as she whipped the batter. I didn’t understand her argument with O’Shay just now. Come to think of it, I didn’t understand a whole lot around here.

That, I decided, was going to change.

21

Late afternoon brought gray skies and drizzle. Determined to make it to the village today even if it meant going in the rain, I hurried along the road in the golf cart. Stepping under the covered storefronts of the village shops just as fat drops plopped onto the cobblestones, I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders.