The Tale of Halcyon Crane (15 page)

“Hello?” I wondered who might be calling me. I had already talked to Will that morning when he stopped by to tell me he was off to the mainland to tend to some business for a client, and Mira had just left. So who was this?

“Hello, Hallie James. This is Jonah, from the coffee shop.”

A grin spread across my face. “Hello, Jonah from the coffee shop.”

“I know this is awfully short notice, but I’m just getting ready to close up here, and I started thinking how nice it would be to meet you for drinks at the wine bar on Main Street.”

Getting out of the house suddenly seemed like a very good idea. “Sounds like fun.”

“Excellent. Meet me in an hour?”

After giving the dogs a jaunt around the property and filling their food dishes, I grabbed my jacket and an umbrella, in case of rain, and set off down the hill. I wasn’t sure about Jonah’s mode of transportation, but I hoped he could take me
home after our drinks. Barring that, I figured I could call Henry.

I got into town just as rain began to fall and hurried into the wine bar, shaking off my umbrella in the doorway. I found a cozy room with booths along the windowed wall facing the street and tables scattered in the center. Black leather-covered bar stools stood in front of an enormous, elaborately carved wooden bar (it looked ancient) accented by a mirror running all the way along the back wall and various bottles stacked to the ceiling, which itself was painted with an ornate mural depicting what I assumed to be life on the island in the early days. Small sconces along the walls gave a soft yellow light, and votive candles flickered on every table and the bar, bathing the room in a cozy glow. Two men I hadn’t seen before were sitting at one end of the bar, and when I came in, one turned to me and smiled. Other than those two, I saw no one.

I settled onto a stool at the opposite end of the bar, relieved at the relative solitude of the place. Outside, sleet was hitting the glass in icy bursts. Just then, the door opened and a wave of chilly air rushed into the room along with the stunningly handsome Jonah.

“Hey,” he said to me, smiling as he ran a hand through his sandy-blond hair. “Beautiful day out there. I nearly got blown down the street by the wind.”

I smiled back at him. “Winnie-the-Pooh would call this a blustery day.”

“Ah, but that was on a Windsday,” he replied, his eyes shining as he led me over to a booth by the window.

“Pinot, Jonah?” the bartender called out.

Jonah looked at me, raising his eyebrows. That sounded good to me, so I nodded in response. “Make it a bottle, Cal,” Jonah replied.

The wine was warm and syrupy, and I felt myself relax as it slid down my throat.

“So, who are you, Hallie James? Where did you come from?”

“Don’t you know?” I teased. “I thought everyone on the island was talking about me.”

“Well, sure. I know you’re Madlyn’s daughter, and I’ve heard what everyone has been saying about you and your father. But that doesn’t really tell me anything, does it? You lived half a lifetime between leaving this island and returning to it. That’s what I want to hear about.”

I wanted to leap across the table and hug this man. What a fabulous thing for him to say. If only more people on the island felt that way.

“So, tell me about Hallie James,” he continued. “What was her life like on the wild West Coast?”

We talked all the way through that bottle of pinot and a second one, punctuated by some hot artichoke dip and crusty French bread. I told him about my childhood in Bellingham and what kind of man my father had been. I told him what it was like growing up the daughter of a single dad, and about my beloved seals, whose barking on the rocks of Puget Sound lulled me to sleep. Jonah seemed as interested as though I were telling him the most fascinating story he’d ever heard. It was intoxicating, I must admit.

“How did your dad die, if you don’t mind my asking?” he said, leaning toward me and resting his chin on one hand.

“Early-onset Alzheimer’s,” I said, looking down at my glass. “It took him quickly, within two years. I suppose that’s merciful. The funny thing is, I’m mourning his death, of course, but I’d been grieving ever since I had to put him into a nursing home. And even before that, when the signs of the disease were first appearing. My dad was gone a long time ago.”

“You must’ve felt very lonely during those years,” Jonah said softly.

“Yeah, I did. I went to see him in the nursing home every day after work”—I sighed, remembering how painful it was to visit a father who no longer knew me—”but that wasn’t my dad, not really.”

“He was lucky to have such a devoted daughter,” Jonah said. But something about the way he said it didn’t match the kind words. His face was unchanged and his eyes were still shining, but . . . I can’t really explain it. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe I was being paranoid, but his statement sounded the least little bit like an accusation. My father had a devoted daughter and—what, Julie Sutton’s father didn’t? That’s what it sounded like to me. I had to shrug it off because it didn’t make any sense. Jonah seemed to be about my age. He certainly wouldn’t be one of the islanders holding a grudge against my dad. Nevertheless, a cloud hung in the air between us for a moment and then dissipated as our conversation turned to other matters.

We left the bar much later. Jonah asked if I’d like to come
back to his place for coffee—he lived above his shop on the main street, I learned—but it didn’t seem like a good idea to me. I had drunk too much wine with too little food, always a recipe for bad decision-making.

“I think I had better just head home,” I told him, hanging on to his arm for support as we walked unsteadily down the street. It had stopped sleeting and the wind had died down, but it was still chilly and damp. I pulled my jacket closed around me. “Can we call Henry from your place?”

Jonah shook his head. “Henry’s in bed now, I’m afraid. In the high season there are carriages everywhere at all hours, but now that it’s just Henry driving, people need to get where they’re going early unless they have their own transportation.”

Well, this was very unwelcome news. I had no way to get home. Since Jonah lived downtown, he didn’t need to have his own horse and carriage. Will was on the mainland, and I hated to bother Mira at this hour. That meant I was out of options.

“I guess I’ll just walk home,” I told him, gazing up at the dark hill, an uneasy feeling settling around me. “It’s really not that far. And I could use the air.”

“I’ll walk with you, then,” he said. But that didn’t seem like a sensible idea either. He’d have to walk two miles up the hill and two miles back down just to see me home.

“I’m a big girl,” I told him. “I’ll make it back to the house just fine.”

He argued a bit but relented when I reminded him of his early wake-up call, and we parted as I headed out of town. I
liked Jonah a lot, despite the fact that I got a strange vibe from him. I couldn’t quite figure him out, but I knew one thing: There was no chemistry between us. Not anything like what I felt when I was with Will. No, Jonah and I were destined to be friends and nothing more.

It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness after I was out of range of the Main Street lights. I put one foot in front of the other—it’s only two miles, I told myself—and just kept moving forward despite the fact that I was becoming more and more uneasy. No stars were visible in the cloudy sky, no moon illuminated the landscape. It was inky black as far as I could see. The dark night seemed to press in around me from all sides.

As I walked along, I was thinking about my date with Jonah. Something hadn’t occurred to me when we were sitting in the bar, but it did now, as I trudged through the cool air. Jonah had asked a lot of questions, but he didn’t answer many. I had told him my entire life story, but I had learned almost nothing about him. I had been so wrapped up in talking about myself, I hadn’t noticed he didn’t share anything about his own life. Was that a good or a bad thing? It was the exact opposite of most men I knew, including my ex-husband, who adored nothing better than talking about himself.
Richard.
I made a mental note to call and tell him everything that had transpired. He had made me promise to do so, but I had forgotten.

I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear the carriage until it was nearly upon me. I turned to see a black horse pulling a two-seater buggy similar to Will’s. It was coming up behind me awfully fast; I had just
enough time to scramble into the ditch on the side of the road as it thundered by. The driver, a man I vaguely recognized but couldn’t quite place, pulled the horse to a stop several yards away from me. I thought he was stopping to make sure I was all right or even to give me a ride. But he wasn’t. He turned to me and said, in a low growl, “You shouldn’t be walking alone on this road late at night, Halcyon. It’s dangerous. Anything might happen out here.” And then he went on his way.

I was speechless. What the hell kind of thing was that to say? No offer of a ride? Thanks for nothing! I stood there, watching that carriage roll on into the darkness ahead.
Did that just happen? Did this man actually threaten me?

I could understand how people here might still be harboring anger and resentment against my father, but what did this guy have against
me
? I was five years old when it all went down, for heaven’s sake. I knew I’d be facing some ugliness when people found out the truth about who I was—the incident in the grocery store with Mrs. Sutton was a prime example of that—but I had no idea that someone would actually
threaten
me. I wished Will weren’t away on business.

There was nothing left to do, of course, but continue on home. I saw my house, not far away, light shimmering from the downstairs windows. Suddenly I wanted very much to be safe inside. I ran, breathless, until I reached the front door. I slammed it shut, leaned against it, and locked it safely behind me. I checked all the doors and windows before calling the dogs to accompany me to my bedroom, and I locked that door, too, for good measure. But I still couldn’t get the man’s threatening words out of my mind.

• • •

The next morning, walking the dogs, I decided to go into town. I wanted to talk to Jonah—maybe he knew the man I’d encountered last night or had seen the carriage leaving town—but I didn’t want to go alone. As if reading my thoughts, the girls positioned themselves on either side of me as we headed down the hill, and curled up next to the coffee shop door as I burst through it, finding the place empty but for Jonah. I told him the whole story in one long stream.

Jonah put up his hands as if to hold back the tide of my words. “Slow down, Hallie. What man? Who was it?”

“I don’t know.” I was pacing back and forth in front of the counter. “He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. He was driving a black horse and a two-seater buggy.”

Jonah thought for a moment, squinting as if to get a clear picture in his mind’s eye. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine who that might be.”

“I’m wondering if I should go to the police,” I said to him, rubbing my forehead.

“And say what? That somebody you can’t identify tried to run you down?”

He was just standing there, rational and sensible and calm, while I paced like a caged wolf. “I shouldn’t tell the police about this? I mean, I think this guy was threatening me.”

He shook his head. “All I’m saying is, there’s got to be a rational explanation for what happened. You may feel like
everyone is gossiping about you, and you know what? That’s true. You’re the best story to hit this island in decades. But it’s going to die down soon, trust me. And no matter how much people are talking right now, nobody on this island would threaten you, Hallie. Not one soul. I know everyone who lives here.”

“You sound just like my father,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. “Always a rational explanation for things.”

He smiled and reached across the counter to take my hand. “There usually is. It was a dark road, after all. Maybe the guy was startled because he didn’t see you until it was almost too late.”

He had a point, I had to admit. Maybe Jonah was right. Maybe I had misinterpreted the whole thing. I was suddenly embarrassed by the scene I had just made and grateful that nobody but Jonah was in the shop to see it.

“You know what? You’re right. I
am
thinking that everyone is whispering about me, and paranoia is obviously setting in. Let’s just forget it, can we?” I asked him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jonah said, idly wiping down the counter. “You had a fright last night, that’s all.”

“I’m going to let you get back to work,” I said, pushing my way out the door. On my way back up the hill with the dogs, walking the route that had seemed so malevolent and frightening last night but that was now made benign by the light of day, I let it go. There was no reason for that man, or anyone else, to be threatening me. I had done nothing—that I knew of.

• • •

After a quiet weekend spent reading and settling in, Monday dawned gray and blustery. I took the dogs for a quick trip outside, then headed with them upstairs, where I crept back into bed and watched the sleet hitting the windowpanes in icy bursts. It felt good to laze about, warm and snug under the covers, flanked by two enormous dogs, on such a nasty morning. I might have lain there all day if I hadn’t remembered that Iris was on her way. I threw back the covers, hopped into the shower, and, to my own astonishment, found myself actually looking forward to seeing her. Maybe we could sit down over coffee and she could tell me about my mother or about my childhood here. It would be a welcome change from the town gossip and the ghostly encounters that had been my lot so far.