The Sweetest Summer: A Bayberry Island Novel (14 page)

“I’m wet!” Chrissy nearly busted her eardrum with her shouting.

She ran. She picked up at the chorus.

Alive, alive oh!

Alive alive, oh!

Crying . . .

Silence. Evelyn tried again.

Crying . . .

“Cockles.” It came out as a pathetic whine. Evelyn felt her pain. This little jog was flat-out miserable.

And . . .

“Mussels.”

They reached the dock and she slowed her pace, careful not to slide on the treated wood. Evelyn had no idea what time it was, but thank God, she could see the ferry’s running lights in the mist. That sight flooded her with such a rush of relief that she felt tears forming in her eyes. Just a few more seconds. Just a few more feet. “Time to take our boat ride!” She knelt on the dock to let Christina climb down.

“All aboard!”

Evelyn’s head snapped up. No! She stood quickly, grabbed Christina’s hand, and began shouting over the rumble of the ferry engine. “Wait!” She waved her free arm as she ran again. Christina dragged her feet and began to whine.

“Wait! Please!”

The conductor couldn’t hear her, not with the storm, the engine noise, and the bright yellow oilskin rain hat he had yanked over his ears. She could see him prepare to shove off. But this was their only chance—they absolutely had to get on the ferry!

The instant she reached the gangway, she stomped on the aluminum as hard as she could. The vibration alerted the conductor that he had two last-minute fares, and he secured the ramp again and waved them aboard.

They ran up, raced across the outside deck and pushed open the door to the passenger seating area. This particular ferry was en route from Martha’s Vineyard to Nantucket before it would head back to the mainland. Everyone who was going to the Mermaid Festival had already disembarked. The dozen or so passengers continuing on were dry, comfortable, and slightly annoyed by the messy, unruly, last-second arrivals. Evelyn knew how pitiful they must
appear. Both of them were drenched to the bone. She was breathing hard and her hoodie was plastered to her head. She surely had a wild look in her eyes. Chrissy was trembling and complaining that she was wet and cold.

Ignoring their stares, Evelyn dropped the heavy duffel bag onto an empty bench, then collapsed right next to it. Her shoulder ached. Her heart was banging against her ribs. But as bad as she felt, Christina looked worse.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” She had just reached out to remove the layers of wet clothes from her niece when the conductor approached, already free of his yellow slicker and hat. He stood over her. “ID, please. Where ya headed?”

“Two one-way fares to Woods Hole, please.” She unzipped Christina’s coat. “One child under five and one adult.” Evelyn pulled off Chrissy’s little jacket and tossed it onto the empty bench in front of them, motioning for Christina to crawl past her and sit next to the window. Only then could Evelyn begin digging into her shorts pocket, eventually pulling out a water-logged wallet. “Here you go.” Smiling, she handed him her Indiana driver’s license and two twenties. He nodded, but didn’t return the smile. “Why don’t you hold on to those fares for just a moment. I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t know what time it was but wondered why the ferry wasn’t moving. She searched the interior of the ferry until she found a large clock positioned over the door to the outdoor seating area. It was 8:07.

“We’re already late,” said a woman two benches away.

No. Oh please, no. Evelyn stiffened. Something was wrong. They should be in open water by now.

Just then, Christina started to sob. Her shoulders shook and she couldn’t catch her breath. Evelyn pulled at the wet clothes sticking to her skin and stared out the ferry window at the hard rain and the gray-green sea.

“Mommy.” It came out between great gulps of air. “I want to see Pop-Pop, Mommy. Can we see Pop-Pop and Reba and Tussy? Take me home, Mommy.”

Her niece looked up at Evelyn, her big brown eyes filled with longing. “Please? I want to go home.”

Evelyn froze. She didn’t know what to say. Her niece had just called her “mommy.” Three times. And it devastated her. Could it be that her little-girl memories of Amanda were already starting to fade? Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue. Or maybe she simply needed Evelyn to play that role for the time being, just to get her through this latest frightening and exhausting experience.

More importantly, she had no idea how to respond to her request to go home. Christina wanted the things she would never have again—a home with her grandfather, feeding her favorite goat and helping to milk the family’s dairy cow. She wanted her life back, but she would never get it, because her future could go either of two ways: she would be on the run the rest of her childhood, or she would live in a fancy Back Bay mansion with her rich old father, who would send her to boarding school as soon as the novelty of having a child began to wear thin.

“I know you’re sad. I’m so sorry you’re hurting, Christina. I’m hurting, too.” She put her fingers under her niece’s chin and tipped her face. She wanted to look directly in her eyes when she said the words. “Everyone loves you more than you will ever know. Your mommy loves you from heaven. Pop-Pop Charlie loves you with all his heart. And all the animals, too, they love you. See, people still love you even if you aren’t with them. Love never goes away.”

Christina’s chin began to tremble.

“And Jellybean, I love you so much that you are the most important thing in the world to me. You matter more to me than anything.”

Her niece lifted her arms and Evelyn picked her up. Christina wrapped her small legs around Evelyn’s waist, pressed into the crook of her arm, and began to cry. Hard. It was a gasping sound full of sorrow. Evelyn couldn’t take it. She buried her face in Christina’s neck
and cried right along with her. So much sadness . . . so much grief . . . as deep as the ocean. Evelyn doubted they’d ever find the bottom of it.

Some time passed. Maybe two or three minutes, and Evelyn looked up when she heard the passenger cabin door open. She wasn’t particularly surprised. In fact, she felt nothing. No fear. No panic. It was almost as if she knew he was out there, waiting for them.

Clancy Flynn was draped in a deep blue rain suit. He wore no hat. He probably had his uniform under it all, but at first glance, he didn’t look like a police officer. He just looked like a guy who’d run through the rain to catch the ferry.

He walked to the center of the cabin and stopped. Evelyn met his gaze, knowing she was still crying but not caring anymore. She’d failed. She’d given up. It was almost funny—the girl who planned and trained and worked her ass off so that she always finished the race had just quit.

She shook her head at Clancy. “Not in front of her,” she whispered. “Please. That’s all I ask.”

Clancy said nothing, just came close to the bench, grabbed the duffel and put the strap on his shoulder. He touched Evelyn’s elbow, helped her stand, and grabbed their wet coats. “It will be okay. Everything will be all right.”

She felt like she was sleepwalking. They stepped over the threshold and were back in the rain, but Clancy produced a large umbrella and it sprang open over their heads. He gently held on to Evelyn’s arm. This wasn’t like any arrest she’d ever seen on TV. He wasn’t reciting her Miranda rights or yelling for her to put her hands up. He was simply accompanying them down the gangway to the dock, trying to keep the rain from pummeling them. Christina hung on to her so tightly that Evelyn worried she would cut off her circulation.

Right there, in the middle of the dock, was a police department Jeep. No lights were flashing and there was
no siren wailing. He unlocked the passenger door with his key fob and helped them inside, Christina still hanging on for dear life. Clancy reached over and squeezed himself between Evelyn and Christina and a police scanner, computer, and all sorts of devices mounted inside the vehicle. She wondered what he was doing when she felt the comforting
click
of the seat belt, which he’d pulled around them both. He began to pull back but paused a moment, hovering not an inch from her face, those intense blue eyes searching hers. Without a doubt, she saw concern in his expression, and something else. Maybe it was pity. He might even feel a twinge of guilt for turning her over to the executioners. “I’m sorry,” he said.

She shrugged. What could she say?

“I don’t have a booster seat, but it’s a short ride.”

With that, he backed out, and shut and locked the door.

Her heart was pounding and her mind grasped for a clue . . . what next? Where were they going? Who would make the arrest? Would Wahlman be there to take Christina away on the spot?

She watched Clancy drop the duffel bag into the back and walk around to the driver’s seat. Soon they were moving, winding their way through an access road along the dock and approaching a huge redbrick building. Faded white block letters along the side said F
LYNN
F
ISHERIES
but the large sign out front welcomed visitors to the B
AYBERRY
I
SLAND
M
USEUM
AND
H
ISTORICAL
S
OCIETY
.

She looked sideways at him. He kept his eyes on his driving, which was probably wise. The rain was coming down even harder and the Jeep’s windshield wipers were racing to maintain visibility, yet Clancy was cutting through parking lots and zipping down one-way side streets designed for horse and buggy. They came to a
STOP
sign. To her right there was a squat white clapboard building with tiny windows capped with metal latticework. The sign said B
AYBERRY
P
OLIC
E
AND
M
UNICIPAL
L
OCK
UP
. She hugged Chrissy tighter.

He turned right at the
STOP
sign, heading down the narrow street that ran alongside the building. Evelyn figured he would be pulling up to a back door, so when he drove on by, she jerked her head in surprise.

“Where are you taking us?” Only then did she realize he hadn’t spoken one word since buckling them in at the dock. “Say something!”

“I’m taking you home.”

“You’re sending us back to Maine?”

Clancy turned his head to meet Evelyn’s gaze. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked relieved. “We’ll talk very soon.” He inclined his head toward Christina, indicating he didn’t want to discuss her fate in front of her. “It’ll just be another couple minutes.”

Evelyn felt foolish—he was doing only what she’d asked. “Thank you for that.” She meant it. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

He gave her a small smile. “Perfectly understandable,” he said.

The Jeep bumped along, continuing past a congregational church, a school, and the volunteer fire department. The road curved, then suddenly opened up. Gone was the tight squeeze of the town streets, and though it was difficult to tell with the rain, Evelyn thought they might be on a hill overlooking the ocean. Of course, she’d lost her orientation and had no idea where on the island they were. Where was he taking them?

Clancy pulled into a gravel driveway of a small house that seemed to have been painted red at some point in the past—the distant past. He turned off the engine.

“What is this? What the hell’s going on?”

Christina raised her head and looked around, blinking.

She must have fallen asleep, even in her wet clothes.

“I’ll get your bag.” He opened the door for her and motioned for them to head up the front steps ahead of him. “It’s unlocked. The dogs aren’t here at the moment,” he said.

She pulled the screen handle and turned the old brass knob to the wooden door. It opened with a lot of complaining, and she stepped inside. It was dim, but Clancy was right behind them, and reached around to flip a switch just inside the door. “I wasn’t expecting company. Sorry if it’s a little messy.”

“But—” Evelyn’s mind went blank.

“Let’s get you guys out of those wet clothes first, okay?” He moved in front of them and headed down the hallway. He dropped the duffel on the floor and disappeared inside an open door, reappearing just seconds later with his arms full of dirty clothes. “There’re clean towels on the shelf and plenty of hot water. Feel free to give her a bath if she prefers that, but I’m sorry—you’re probably going to have to give the tub a quick rinse first. Cleaning supplies are under the sink.” He motioned with his head for her and Christina to go into the bathroom. “I’ll give you guys your space and get the guest bed made. Looks like she might need a nap.”

Evelyn couldn’t move. She stood, frozen, at the juncture of the living room and hallway. Her mouth fell open as she tried to sort out this whole bizarre situation. When he said he was taking her home, he meant to
his house.
She was baffled. Why would he do this? Did he want them to be warm, dry, and well rested before he handed them over to the FBI?

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t—” Evelyn stopped, suddenly figuring it out. “Oh. This is for the benefit of the news cameras? You don’t want a crying, miserable little girl and a drowned rat of a woman making Bayberry Island look bad?”

Clancy backed away, and toed her duffel bag so he could get around it. “Are you hungry?”

“What?”

“Can I have pancakes?” Chrissy was awake.

“Sure.” Clancy smiled at her. “Do you like the blueberry kind?”

She nodded with enthusiasm. “And milk, please.”

“You got it.” Slowly, Clancy raised his eyes to meet Evelyn’s. It felt as if they were locked in a Wild West standoff, each waiting for the other to flinch before they reached for their weapons. In this particular duel, however, the lawman’s arms were full of dirty laundry and the outlaw held a hungry four-year-old.

Evelyn tilted her head and stared at the handsome tall man in the rain suit. She was confused, unsure of what was next or where this was going, and she still couldn’t decipher that expression in his eyes.

Despite everything, she felt a tiny flicker of hope ignite in her chest.