Harbour Falls (16 page)

“I do love this island, don’t get me wrong, But it does get boring from time to time,” Helena confessed.

“You could always come down to Boston for a break,” Trina offered, her expression hopeful. “Help me with wedding stuff. There’s so much to do before spring.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Helena began. “This time of year, Adam wouldn’t care if I closed up the café for a week or two.” She paused and then, smacking her hand on the table, said, “Yeah, let’s do it!”

Trina looked delighted. “Oh, Helena, I promise we’ll have lots of fun. I’ll keep you plenty busy.” She then turned to me. “Maddy, you should come down for a few days too. You must be getting kind of bored yourself here on the island.”

“Oh, thank you,” —I had to think fast to get out of this one— “but I really need to stay here. I’m supposed to be trying to write—”

“Yeah, Maddy came here to cure her writer’s block,” Helena interrupted.

Uh-oh
. Despite Adam’s claim that nobody but he knew why I was really here, I couldn’t help searching Helena’s face for any sign that she was onto me and my phony cover story. But thankfully she appeared to be none the wiser to my ruse.

“That’s right! You’re a writer,” Trina said. “I’m definitely going to check out your books as soon as I get back to Boston.”

“I started the first one,” Helena chimed in, surprising me completely with her admission. “It’s really good.” I met her eyes, and she smiled warmly. “I highly recommend them.”

How sweet!
I thought. Helena was rapidly becoming my
second
favorite person on the island. Eventually the conversation veered away from my novels. Helena and Trina started to complain about their significant others, and I felt more and more out of place, having nothing to contribute.

“Just think,” Helena said, “give it a few more months with Adam, and you’ll be sitting here bitching about him right along with us.”

Certain I was blushing profusely, since Adam and I were nowhere near that point, I lowered my eyes. Helena must have forgotten that I had signed a lease for only three months. It was way too early to be making assumptions about where my relationship with Adam was heading. Not to mention she didn’t know the other half of why I was even here.

“Uh, I don’t know about that…” I trailed off.

“Well, I beg to differ,” Trina said, jumping into the conversation. “I know my brother, and he is definitely into you.”

“Did he say anything?” Helena asked, taking the words right out of my mouth.

“He doesn’t have to say anything. I can tell.” Trina paused. “Let’s just say he looks happier than he has in a long,
long
time.”

My heart soared to new heights thinking I could possibly be the reason for Adam’s newfound joy.

Trina patted my hand. “And, Maddy, you are the kind of woman Adam needs. Not someone like that wretched Chelsea,” she huffed, making a face.

Here was my chance to possibly uncover some more info. “You didn’t like her?” I ventured.

“Didn’t like her? Hell, I
hated
her.” Trina’s eyes darkened. “She was the worst thing that ever happened to my brother.”

Helena glanced away, biting down on her lower lip. After what she’d told me the other day, how she somehow felt she was to blame since she’d introduced Chelsea and Adam, I knew how hard it had to be for her to hear this.

Unaware, Trina said vehemently, “Thank God, the bitch is gone.”

Her tone was so cold and dispassionate as she uttered those words that a heavy silence fell over our table. It didn’t appear Trina was going to be as forthcoming with her reasons for hating Chelsea as Helena had been. The air was tense as none of us seemed to know what to say next.

Breaking the tension at last, Trina said, “Listen, I’m going to the ladies room.” She pushed back her chair. “And then I’m going to make us some cappuccinos, and when I get back we are
so
changing this subject.”

Helena and I both nodded in hearty agreement. Once Trina closed the restroom door, Helena began to quietly fill me in on
why
Trina despised Chelsea so very much. I thanked the heavens above that the beautiful Helena Jackson had a penchant for gossip when she began to tell this story:

Trina had never been fond of the flashy Chelsea Hannigan, but she grew to despise her when she started to believe Chelsea viewed Adam as just another prize possession to hold onto. In high school and throughout his early college years, Adam had genuinely cared for Chelsea. His intentions had been nothing but honorable back in those early days. As time wore on, though, he too grew to distrust Chelsea. He heard the rumors, but every time he’d confront her, Chelsea denied any wrongdoing. But, of course, his suspicions were confirmed with the incident at Billy’s.

Trina, like Nate and Helena, was absolutely stunned when Adam didn’t immediately break things off with Chelsea. Hell, she’d been caught red-handed. And adding insult to injury, she’d defended J.T. O’Brien. It was then that Trina came to believe Chelsea had something she was holding over Adam. There was no other plausible explanation for his behavior. Adam had never been one to allow himself to be told what to do, or be controlled in any way by anyone, particularly not Chelsea. It had always been Adam in control, calling all the shots. So it came as an even bigger shock when Adam asked Chelsea to marry him…just two days following the whole J.T.-Chelsea spring break fiasco. And as he’d done with Nate, Adam told Trina to mind her own business when she questioned his bizarre decision to get engaged to an unfaithful girlfriend.

But beyond that Trina had another reason to hate her brother’s fiancée. Apparently Chelsea had once tried to seduce Walker. Shortly following the engagement announcement, Adam had gone back to MIT. But while Adam’s spring break had ended, Trina and Walker’s had just begun, and they soon found themselves back in Harbour Falls.

Two days following their return, Chelsea called Trina—drunk and asking for a ride home from a bar in Cove Beach. It was after three in the morning, so Trina sent Walker to pick her “drunken ass up”—as Helena put it—and bring her back to the Ward house. That would allow Chelsea time to sleep it off, and Trina and Walker could drive her back to her car in the morning.

Trina heard Walker returning with Chelsea, but when it seemed to be taking entirely too long for him to come back to their room, Trina got up to see what was going on. Making her way down the hall, she heard giggling coming from one of the guestrooms. When she flung open the door, she found a half-dressed Chelsea pressing herself up against Walker in front of the bed, trying to kiss him. And even though she knew nothing had happened
yet
, Trina—not one for subtlety—had marched right up to Chelsea, spun her around, and smacked her hard across the face.

The next day she told Adam everything. Trina became even more convinced that something was horribly awry when Adam
still
refused to dump Chelsea. In fact, he wouldn’t even consider calling off the engagement.

Helena stopped talking when Trina came out of the restroom and went behind the bar to start on our cappuccinos. After having heard this new information, I made a firm resolution to get the nerve up to talk to Adam. It had to be done. I needed to know what Chelsea had been holding over him. I couldn’t continue to pursue this relationship with him, knowing he’d been blackmailed and not knowing why.

When Trina returned to the table with the cappuccinos, the three of us sipped our steaming, hot drinks, and sat and talked until darkness began to fall. As our conversation began to wind down, Helena’s cell phone buzzed. It was Nate, calling to inform her that he was still with Adam, and they were running late. Unsure as to how much longer they would be, he asked if she could drive Trina back to Adam’s house.

I was readying to go myself, but Helena asked if I’d stay at the café until she got back. “I hate to ask,” she said, “but Brody Weston is supposed to be stopping here to pick up some hard-to-find part for the ferry that Nate tracked down for him.” She checked the time on her cell. “Actually he was supposed to by now, but I guess he got held up.”

I told her I had no problem with staying awhile longer and that I’d give the part to Brody when he arrived. Helena thanked me and placed a small cardboard box—I assumed it held the part for the ferry—on the counter.

After they left I paced around the café looking for something to do. I was wired from all the caffeine and consequently restless as hell. There was a pile of unfolded cloth napkins on the other end of the counter, so I reached over, pulled them to me, and began to fold them. Soon I had a row of neatly folded napkins before me. Just as I was working on the last one, I heard the café door swing open.

I turned, expecting to see Brody or possibly even Adam and Nate. But instead my eyes fell on J.T. O’Brien. Judging from his unsteady stance and the fact that he was wearing only a thin T-shirt and long shorts despite the cold, wet weather, I suspected he was drunk…or on something.

I placed the napkin I’d been folding down and keeping my voice even, said, “Hey, J.T. Are you here to pick up the part for the ferry?”

He walked toward me, his expression dark and troubled. “What the fuck are you talking about, Maddy?” he slurred, his tone gruff.

Obviously he wasn’t here for the part, so why was he here? When he was only a few feet away, I noticed he was holding an almost empty bottle of amber-colored liquid against his leg. “Why don’t you give me the bottle?” I said, sighing and reaching for it. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“
You
think I’ve had enough?” J.T. snorted, pulling the bottle out of my reach. “Sorry, but I don’t take orders from someone who hangs out with a killer.”

I knew what he was insinuating. “Shut up, J.T., you don’t really believe that,” I said, turning back to the counter, hoping maybe he’d just leave.

“You don’t know anything!” J.T. bellowed from behind me.

Ignoring his outburst, I muttered, “You’re an ugly drunk.”

Suddenly the whiskey bottle he’d been holding whizzed past my head, missing me by mere inches. It crashed into the wall behind the coffee bar, raining down shards of glass and dark, sticky liquid. I spun around, my hands reaching back to grip the edge of the counter as I cowered away from an approaching drunk and furious J.T.

“God, J.T.,” I gasped, horrified. “What the hell is wrong with you? Stop it!”

He closed in on me, halting only inches away, close enough for me to smell the whiskey on his breath. “Stop it,” J.T. mimicked in a high-pitched voice. His dark eyes were wild and flashed menacingly. I knew I was in danger. “Maddy, as I see it,
you
are in no position to tell
me
what to do.”

His lip curled up into a nasty sneer, and he leaned over me. Trying, and succeeding, to intimidate me. I turned my head to the side, my sweaty hands slipping as I struggled to keep hold of the counter behind me. “J.T., please,” I whimpered.

In my face J.T. yelled, “Please
what
?” He slammed his hands down on either side of me.

“P-p-please stop,” I stammered, tears welling up, despite my effort to suppress them.

J.T. laughed what could only be described as a sinister laugh, throwing his head back and chortling. Seeing an out I tried to duck under his arm. But he was too quick. He stopped me by grabbing the front of my shirt and bunching the material up in his fist. “And where do you think you’re going?” he growled. “Trying to run so you can go find your rich, murdering new friend?”

I didn’t answer, and J.T. continued. “You do know you’re just another piece of ass for Ward to pursue?” He cocked his head to the side, sizing me up. “Shame too. I always pegged you for having better taste.”

He touched my cheek, and I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. “Fucking bitch,” he roared while slamming me back forcefully against the counter.

A sharp pain cut across my lower back, and J.T. was back in my face. “Tell me, Maddy, what is it about Ward? Is he that great of a fuck?”

I closed my eyes, and tears streamed down my cheeks. I hadn’t even gotten to that point with Adam, but I knew it wouldn’t matter to an enraged J.T. O’Brien. “Answer me,” he demanded, his hot whiskey breath nauseating me.

A choked sob escaped my lips, and just when I feared the worst might happen, J.T. was violently yanked away from me. As I slid down to the floor, eyes still tightly closed, I heard a loud crash and the sound of punches being thrown.

“Get the fuck off me, you murderer,” J.T. protested, sounding frightened and pained.

“Fuck you.” —More punches, J.T. coughing— “Don’t you
ever
fucking touch her, you hear me?” I knew that voice, so I wiped at my teary eyes and glanced up to see a glowering Adam looming over a curled-up J.T. on the floor.

“Don’t worry. I won’t ever touch her again. I don’t want any more of your sloppy seconds anyway,” J.T. laughed.

Adam’s hands clenched at his sides, and J.T. flinched. “Go ahead, Ward,” he challenged, his voice thick with blood. “Hit me again.”

Adam spat in J.T.’s direction. “You’re not worth it, asshole.”

“Whatever. You still can’t change the fact that I was fucking your fiancée almost the entire time you were away at college,” J.T. yelled defiantly.

Adam’s expression turned murderous. “Get up, you pathetic drunk. Get up and fight like a man.” His voice, now, disturbingly calm.

But instead of getting up, J.T. rolled to his side and suddenly choked out, “You took away the only girl I ever loved, you fuck.”

Well, this was news. J.T. had
loved
Chelsea? As J.T. lay sobbing on the floor, drunk and defeated, Nate emerged from the shadows to stand next to Adam. Had he been there the entire time? If so, Nate had had Adam’s back throughout the duration of the fight. Not that I was surprised.

“What do you want me to do?” Nate asked Adam.

“Get him out of here before I end up really hurting him,” Adam said shakily, cracks showing in his controlled veneer. “Take him to Max’s.”

“Why’d you do it?” J.T. bellowed, spitting blood. Nate pulled him up and began to drag him to the door. “
Why
?” J.T. croaked.

“Wait,” Adam said.

Nate halted, J.T. in tow. “I didn’t kill her, you fucking idiot. Did you ever consider that maybe she just left?” Adam paused, eyeing J.T. carefully. “Chelsea didn’t love you any more than she loved me. Chelsea only loved Chelsea, so quit wasting your time—and your life—pining away for her.”

“She didn’t leave,” J.T. said quietly as Adam was turning away.

He spun back around. “Is that a confession, O’Brien?”

“Fuck you!” J.T. shouted, and Nate tightened his grip on him. “You know I didn’t kill her.”

“Do I?” Adam asked.

His stance, expression—just everything—was eerily calm. J.T. must have noticed the same thing because he said nothing more. Nate pulled him up and out the door.

With both men gone, Adam rushed over to where I sat on the floor, legs pulled up to my chest with my arms wrapped tightly around them.

He knelt down in front of me. “Are you OK, Maddy? Do you want me to fly you to the hospital? I can—”

“Adam,” I interrupted. “I don’t need to go to a hospital. I’ll be fine, I’m just a little shaken up.”

He took my face in his hands, scanning for any signs of harm. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? When I was coming in, I saw him slam you back into the counter.” I winced, suddenly cognizant of a dull aching across my lower back.

“Maddy?” Adam asked. “Where does it hurt?”

“My back. But it doesn’t hurt
that
much.”

Adam touched the hem at the back of my shirt. “Do you mind if I take a look?”