Raquel Byrnes (3 page)

Without the fog brooding over the landscape, I saw the massive trunks and deep forest that butted up against the winding path. Used to the open beach and desert spaces of southern California, the cluster of trees huddled overhead, crowding me as I walked.

Metal clanking and male voices drifted, and I squinted at the broken log guardrail a few yards down. Rutted dirt and cracked branches on either side of the hole in the railing told me I’d found my handiwork. I chewed on my thumbnail wondering who might be down there and if I should bother them.

I had no choice. I needed my things. Testing my footing, I extended a leg over the edge onto the jagged log. It held and I took another step, slipped, and went skidding on my heels and backside down the dirt trail. I jolted to a stop spilling onto my hands and knees. Ahead, near the crumpled car, O’Shay and Simon turned as I stumbled out of the tall grasses.

“You have thing for grand entrances, don’t you?” Simon asked. He raised a blond brow, his eyes striking in their similarity to the cobalt blue sky above. “Are you all right?”

Wiping scraped and dirty palms on my jeans, I managed a painful smile and a nod.

Shirtsleeves of his white oxford rolled up, his muscular forearms and gloved hands strained with the chain in his hand. It threaded through a pulley and attached to my car. The chain, in turn, connected to a winch on the truck next to them. Wrestling with the broken metal that refused to budge, he looked beautiful and formidable at the same time. Like the Greek heroes I’d seen in schoolbooks as a child.

Heat flared across my cheeks when he glanced my way.

“I just wanted to get my things,” I said, realizing I was staring. “My suitcase and box.”

Simon shook his head, let go of the chain, and sent it clanging against the arm of the winch. He rubbed palms together and tilted his chin down, looking at me from under a sheath of golden hair.

“Your things are back at the house,” he said. “Tuttle knows where they are.”

“Oh.” The bump on my forehead hurt. Biting back the frustration welling, I nodded. I’d skulked through the house like a cat burglar for nothing. “I was just leaving and I thought—”

“Not with that bump on your head,” Simon interrupted. “The doctor hasn’t cleared you. Besides, it’s too far to walk back to the ferry; and as you can see, both your car and mine are not available.”

He motioned behind me, and my hand flew to my mouth. On the road, slightly down from where I’d gone over the ravine, his large black sedan squatted crumpled and listing on the road.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Hale. I—I didn’t realize I caused so much damage.”

“Mr. Hale is my father, Rosetta. Call me Simon.” He had a slight accent, not quite English, but rather east coast wealthy, as my mother called it, as though he’d been educated abroad.

He tossed some keys to O’Shay. “Thank Myers for the use of his truck, but we need something bigger. This car isn’t moving.”

“Right, then,” O’Shay said. He climbed into the truck’s cab and slammed the door. It coughed to life and eased away from us.

Simon moved closer to me, his eyes narrowed. “Where were you going so fast last night? You nearly killed us both. I hope it was worth the risk.”

“I was…leaving,” I said and took a step back from his space with a fluttering stomach. “I was upset.”

“Clearly,” he intoned and pointed to his own forehead. “Headache?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Well, as I said, your leaving is not happening today.”

“But…” I didn’t know how to contradict him. I didn’t know how to keep from staring into his eyes. My jaw worked ineffectively, and then I flopped my arms at my sides. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

He shrugged and started rolling down his sleeves. “Are you normally this reckless, Rosetta?”

“Reckless?” I crossed my arms, insulted. “What do you mean?”

“Do you normally show up at jobs for which you aren’t hired and then attempt to kill your would-be employers while fleeing the scene?”

The amused tilt of his full lips sent a flush rising to my cheeks, and I turned from him, my hands on my face.

“Yes, all the time,” I snapped. “I love looking ridiculous in front of…of…”

Gorgeous men.

Waving him away, I peered into the broken window at the items scattered about. I snagged my cell phone from the driver’s side floor. The screen was cracked and it wouldn’t turn on. I dropped it back into the car. I hadn’t been able to get reception out here last night, anyway. I pulled sunglasses from the backseat and slipped them into my purse, and then grabbed my small leather Bible.

“I didn’t mean to insult you, Rosetta. It just seems impulsive for someone your age.”

I whirled to face him. “My age?”

“Well, you know what I mean,” Simon said evenly, his gaze holding mine. “What brings you way out here to our strange little island? I’m sure there are plenty of cranky old men to take care of in California.”

“Small talk?” Raising a brow hurt the knot on my forehead, and I hissed at the pain. “I think we’re past that.”

“Really?” He leaned against the car, his arms crossed. Shadows cast half of his face in darkness. “Where are we, then?”

“Let’s see. There’s insulting, name calling,” I ticked answers off on my fingers.

“You forgot vehicular assault and fainting,” Simon added with a smirk.

I scowled. “Oh, yes, then there’s me leaving,” I said and stalked back towards the road. In my haste to get down to the car, I hadn’t realized how steep it was. I eyed the rise of dirt back up to the house level and gulped.

“A suggestion,” Simon called from behind me.

I turned to him. “Sure.”

“Through the meadow.” He pointed to a trail leading into the tall grass to the left. “It’s a longer walk, and I’m sure far less entertaining for me, but it’ll get you back to the house.”

Clearing my throat, I nodded. “Thank you.”

No point in striving for dignity anymore. I never seemed to be able to leave in a proper huff.

I took the trail to a clearing. Waves of purple and pink flowers swayed in the cool breeze. Their sweet scent drifted as they swished with the tumbling wind. August back home was sticky and hot. Out here, the whispers of fall chilled the air. I shivered and looked back over my shoulder at Simon. He wasn’t near the car anymore. I couldn’t see him at all. I’d never reacted so thoroughly to anyone before, blushing and stammering like a schoolgirl with a crush. What was wrong with me?

Extending my arms over the waist-high blooms, I waded through the field and let the petals tickle my palms. The tourist website had described Noble Island as beautiful and foreboding. Given to sudden shifts in weather, it was unpredictable by nature. As if reading my thoughts, an abrupt change from daylight to gray drew my gaze skyward. Dark clouds slid across the pale sun and whipped up a wind.

I hugged myself and hurried towards the other side of the clearing to the trees. Halfway there, sudden movement in the flowers caught my eye. I froze. A flash of raven hair rifled through the blooms and was gone. Heart ramming in my chest, I scanned the stems, squinting. Farther away, a child’s giggle, distorted by the wind, echoed across the field.

“Hello?” I took a step back into the clearing. “Who’s out there?”

The field swayed in rivulets with the buffeting wind as I strained to hear more. Thunder rumbled overhead, the dark clouds roiling with flashes of purple. If there was a child out here in this weather, they’d surely get chilled. Another step and I caught sight of pink material billowing over the flowers, but it was gone before I could focus. The hair on my arms spiked with building static and a bright thread of light tore along the sky. It lit the pale face of a child peering out from behind a tree across the clearing. The face vanished with the flash.

“Lost?” a voice asked over my shoulder.

Gasping with fright, I staggered and turned to face Simon.

“Did you see that?” I said, hand to my chest.

“What?” He looked past me, his jaw set.

“I thought I saw…something.” Head pounding with a headache, I rubbed my temple.

“I found this in the car.” He held out a sweater, and I turned to slip arms in the sleeves. “With the weather turning, I thought you might be cold.”

“Thank you.” I shook my head. “You didn’t see anything?”

“Come inside, Rosetta.” The teasing smile no longer at his lips, he extended his hand. “It’s not safe out here once it starts to get dark.”

“But…there’s someone out there.” I glanced behind us as he pulled me into the woods.

The dark look on Simon’s face made my stomach flop. “There always is.”

3

The wind whirled and whipped past as we walked in silence through the woods. I listened to the creaks and groans of the branches overhead and pulled on a long lock of hair. A nervous habit since childhood, I twirled and knotted my curls with my fingers without thinking.

Simon strode next to me, his long legs encased in dark charcoal slacks, hands in his pockets.

I rushed to keep up.

His eyes remained downcast, as if he was lost in thought.

Thunder rumbled over the canopy of trees like an angry animal prowling the dark.

Along our path, a familiar bloom caught my eye, and I scooped to pick one. Downward white petals surrounded a bushy yellow middle. Like a ballet dancer in long tulle, I spun the flower on its stem as we walked. I lifted it to my nose, breathed in the delicate scent, and ran a petal along my cheek.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I whispered.

As if pulled back to the present from far away, Simon looked over at me, a bemused expression on his face.

“What?”

“I was talking to the zinnia.” I smiled and held the flower up. “
Zinnia aceresa
, it’s a desert species. They don’t grow in places like this.”

“You seem to be holding proof to the contrary,” Simon said and climbed over a downed log. He turned, offered his hand, and helped me over it. Warm and strong, my heart paced up as he enclosed my hand in his. “Are you a botanist?”

“Uh, yes,” I chuckled. “But I also grew up near a botanical garden. I spent hours there sketching and walking. I have dozens of nature journals filled with pressed flowers.” I held up the bloom, made it spin, the petals flaring out. “These little flowers used to remind me of prancing fairies.”

A smile tugged at his full lips, and he took the bloom and smelled it. “They don’t belong here, you say?”

“No.” I watched him as we strode, his eyes out of focus, far away again.

We crested a rise, and the gables of Shadow Bay Hall came into view.

“Why do you suppose that is?” Stopping at the top of the hill, he turned and handed the flower back to me. “Why don’t they belong?”

I glanced at the hulking home. Backlit by the flashes in the slate clouds, it sat cast in shadows. Mrs. Tuttle waited on the porch, her hands on her hips.

“I supposed it’s considered too delicate to survive a place like this,” I said quietly.

“I’ve found that beautiful and delicate don’t always mean weak,” he answered and held my gaze. “Don’t you agree?”

“I…” He stood too close to me, and I felt off balance, thrown by his nearness. The blue eyes had a ring of gold around the pupil. They reminded me of sunflowers against a summer sky. “I guess.”

Mrs. Tuttle opened the front door and the creaking pulled his gaze from mine. He stepped away, taking my breath with him.

“I nearly called out the air brigade,” Mrs. Tuttle said. Her gaze rested on me for a second, a twitch at her right eye. “You might have let me know you weren’t in residence, Ms. Ryan. I made breakfast.”

“Oh.” I looked at her, caught off guard. “You did?”

“Rosetta was making her escape, but you know Noble Island, not much goes to plan here.” Simon walked inside and I followed, sliding past Mrs. Tuttle’s glare. “Is my father up?”

“I was just about to check on him,” Mrs. Tuttle answered. “I have to speak with you, Simon.”

Turning on the first step, his hand on the bannister, Simon shrugged. “So talk.”

“It’s about”—her gaze flicked in my direction—”Well, it’s about Carl.”

“Ah, the elusive man-nurse, Carl,” Simon intoned. “Is he not coming?”

“I got a call from the caregiver agency,” Mrs. Tuttle said with exasperated look. “Carl didn’t get an offer from us. It went to Ms. Ryan. Since she didn’t call us, and we therefore weren’t made aware of the error—”

“Are you saying this is my fault?” I looked at her, shocked.

Of course, it was my fault. Had I called instead of launching across two states without checking, Mrs. Tuttle might have known about the mix-up days ago. And told me not to come.

She glanced back at Simon, ignoring my question. “As a result, Carl took a job elsewhere.”

“Have the agency send out another batch of applications.” Simon drummed his fingers on the rail, impatient. “My father needs someone soon.”

“Yes, they said they’ll send them, but…when will you find time to go through them?” She checked her wristwatch. “Aren’t you leaving for Seattle?”

“The academy can reschedule the appointment. For what they charge, they’ll accommodate us. With the storm closing, charters out of here will be cancelled, anyway.”

“Not to mention the drive is blocked,” Mrs. Tuttle said. “O’Shay had to walk the length of it to bring me the mail. Any luck with Myer’s truck?”

“Seems Rosetta’s stunt driving did a number on both my car and hers. It’ll be a day or two before the drive is cleared.” Simon’s gaze rested on me. “She’ll probably have to stay another night. Dr. Fliven didn’t clear her yet.”

I felt heat rush to my cheeks. I’d crashed his car, blocked his driveway, and now messed up some sort of appointment. I’d ruined their chances at getting Nurse Carl. My hand went to the bandage on my head, and I realized they had a doctor come out to see me as well. My stomach flopped. I’d been nothing but trouble and bluster since my arrival. Suddenly, babbling about zinnias and fairies with Simon seemed lame.

Mrs. Tuttle turned to me, her lips pursed, but a heavy thud, followed by the crash of shattering glass from the floor above, sent us all running.