The Things I Do For You (22 page)

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Authors: Mary Carter

BOOK: The Things I Do For You
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“You’re telling me—if it had been some old lady and not some hot little thing, that you would have acted the exact same way.”
“Yes,” Brad said. “Now let’s go.” He started out the door, as if she would just agree, as if she would just follow. Instead, she didn’t move. How long until he turned around? He went all the way out the door. Not a glance back. He was so sure she would follow him. Knowing he would eventually come looking for her, she made her way back to the dance floor and tried to lose herself among the sweaty, swaying bodies. She didn’t look to the exit once. She danced alone, moving away when men tried to press their bodies against hers, because now that she’d made her point with Brad, she had no need for strange boys. He was the only boy she wanted. Instead, she found joy all alone, in the middle of the massive crowd, sweat pooling into the nape of her neck, music thundering through her body. It may have only been minutes, but it felt like she danced like that for hours. When she was ready to go home, she happened to glance up to the second-floor mezzanine overlooking the dance floor. And the first person she locked eyes with was Brad. He’d been sitting front and center, watching her. He looked at her with such devotion and desire that had she been struck by lightning at that very moment, she would have died the happiest girl in the world. She knew then and there that they would marry someday. And now? How would she feel if she got struck by lightning now? She’d be slinking into heaven with her tail between her legs. For no matter how you looked at it, she was using a young, gorgeous contractor and his big Jet Ski to get back at her husband for lying about a lighthouse.
 
Despite everything, it was nice to be in town. They strolled through the antique store, and the bookstore, and even the florist before ending up in the café where they ordered lattes and chatted on overstuffed couches in the back room. Jake talked about his travels: his trips to Beijing, and Thailand, and Hong Kong, and Bailey pretended to listen.
“You are a thousand miles away,” Jake said. Startled, Bailey looked up. He was staring at her again, with an intensity that was hard to miss. It was a look that conveyed she was the center of his attention. A flutter gathered in her stomach. She was glad Captain Jack had agreed to ferry them both ways, for despite what she’d allowed Brad to think, it wouldn’t be right to be pressed so close against him.
“Sorry,” Bailey said. “I’m a little distracted.” Jake leaned forward.
“Distracted,” he said. “Just like your light.” Her light? Oh no, was he going to turn into one of them too?
“My light?” she repeated out loud.
“The tower beam,” Jake said. “It’s been quite erratic the past two days.”
“It has?” Had Bailey even looked at the light the past two days?
“Last night it flashed three times in a row. Like an SOS signal.” Bailey snuck a guilty look at her cell phone. The Coast Guard had called several times that morning. She’d been too upset to call them back. It had to be about the light. This was so typical. They were spending all their money to save a lighthouse that didn’t even work.
“Olivia,” Bailey said.
“Who?” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. But there it was. Maybe Brad was messing with the light, trying to “contact” her. The group was a bad influence. They were probably all in it.
Bailey held up her cell phone. “I have to make a call,” she said. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Oh,” Jake said. “So it’s not a ghost?”
“A ghost?”
“Some say the place is haunted.”
“I’ve heard,” Bailey said. “No. It’s not a ghost. Just a middle-aged man and a crisis.”
“Don’t tell me you’re calling yourself middle-aged.”
“I meant Brad. But I’m also—”
“Beautiful.” The word hung in the air, suspended. It sent an electric thrill down her spine.
“Thank you,” she said. She held up her phone again. “I’m also married.”
“Happily?” Jake asked.
“Not always,” Bailey said. “But for the purpose of this discussion it’s definitely ‘ever after.’ ”
 
Later, back on the island, Bailey would replay her silly words. “For the purpose of this discussion.” Was she leaving open the possibility that she and Brad wouldn’t make it “ever after”? Was she making a subconscious decision, already backing away from him, disengaging, qualifying their marriage? Could she say for sure they were going to make it through this? Could anyone?
Chapter 21
“I
swear to you,” Brad said. “I am not messing with the light.” They were standing in the tower, whispering despite the impossibility of anyone hearing them.
“He said it was blinking three times fast, like an SOS signal,” Bailey said.
“If that were the case, wouldn’t we have heard from the Coast Guard?”
“They called,” Bailey said. “I didn’t answer.”
“Bailey. If they thought we were messing with the signal, they would have been knocking at our door in seconds flat.”
“You think he’s lying?”
“I don’t know.” She waited to see if he would lecture her about going into town with Jake. He didn’t mention it, although she knew he saw Captain Jack ferry them back and forth. Why didn’t she go on the Jet Ski? Why did Brad get to be the only one on bad behavior? Not that he’d done any of it to hurt her. Bailey knew Brad would never purposefully cause her pain. It made it all that more difficult to be so angry with him.
“We have a paid reservation request for this weekend,” Bailey said.
“But the group is staying through next week.”
“Then they are going to have to pay,” Bailey said.
“I promised them—”
“We’re still the keepers, right?”
“It’s in the contract. No one can ever take this place away from us, Bails. I swear. We can stay here until the day we die.”
“We just can’t pass it on to our children.”
We don’t have children
was the elephant in the lighthouse.
“We can appoint the new keepers,” Brad said. He avoided all mention of children.
“Okay then. The board. They either start paying or start packing.”
“Does that include your little tent friend?” And there it was at last, a hint of jealousy. It didn’t feel as good as Bailey thought it would.
“Yes, it includes him,” she said. “Everyone who wants to stay has to pay.”
“We have so many things left to do,” Brad said.
“You mean contact Olivia?”
“Do you have to sound so sarcastic?”
“You won’t even believe me when I tell you the keeper’s house is haunted!”
“Because it’s not. It’s an old house.”
“But you believe in Olivia’s ghost?”
“No. Not exactly. Olivia is not a ghost.”
“And yet you want to hold a séance.”
“It’s not a séance. It’s—an energy circle. Today is Wednesday. When are the guests arriving?”
“Friday,” Bailey said reluctantly.
“Then let’s let the board stay until Friday morning,” Brad said.
“Fine,” Bailey said. “But they have to be out by nine
A.M.
”
“Nine
A.M.
?”
“I’ll have three rooms to clean.”
“I’ll help.”
“We’ll still need the time.”
“Okay. Nine or ten
A.M.
—”
“Nine
A.M.
”
“Deal.”
“So what is—an energy circle?” Bailey was trying. She was really, really trying. But she couldn’t get rid of all her sarcasm, she just couldn’t. Even so, Brad looked grateful. His face softened and he looked so hopeful it almost broke her heart.
“We’ll just . . . sit around in a circle holding hands and concentrating our energy on sending Olivia to the light.”
“That’s a freaking séance.”
“Call it what you like.”
“It’s a séance.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Fine. But I’m sitting in on it and you can’t stop me this time.” To her surprise, Brad took her hand.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said.
“You were?”
“Yes. If Olivia does come through—you two have a bit of healing to do, don’t you think?”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
If by healing you mean I want to kick her big ashes out of my house.
“Will you blog about this séance—energy circle—in your diary? Sorry. Keeper’s log?”
“Nah.”
“I think you should.”
“Why?”
“Business,” Bailey said. “Everyone loves a good ghost story.”
“Bailey,” Brad said. “That’s not the right frame of mind.”
“You’re the one who wanted a lighthouse bed-and-breakfast,” Bailey said. “I’m doing everything I can to build clientele.”
“And you think they want to hear about ghosts?”
“I don’t think,” Bailey said. “I know.” It was true. Ghosts were very “in” right now.
“Fine. I’ll mention it in my log.” Bailey went to hug him, kiss him. Then she remembered she was angry with him. Brad looked elated, then pained.
“I’m so so sorry,” he said. “I love you. You know that, right?”
“I know,” she said. “But you shouldn’t have kept such a huge secret from me.”
“You’re right. I don’t like to do it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m a coward—”
“Leave the criticizing to me, okay? I don’t like to hear you putting yourself down.”
“I have to tell you something else,” Brad said. “Something I should have told you eons ago.” Just then, the beam across the river flickered. Instead of four light and one dark, it flashed three times quickly. Brad and Bailey stepped toward the window, staring at the light. Soon after, both of their cell phones started to ring. “Coast Guard,” they both said at once. Slowly, they looked up at the automated light. Neither of them had touched it. Neither of them had been anywhere near it.
“I guess the light doesn’t like you keeping secrets either,” Bailey said.
“Or it doesn’t want me talking,” Brad said.
“Well, you were saved by the light, then,” Bailey said. “I’d rather not deal with your next deep, dark secret until we finish apologizing to the Coast Guard.”
“Bailey,” Brad said. Bailey stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek.
“Seriously,” she said. “I can only deal with one crisis at a time, okay? Unless you’re having an affair—”
“God, no. Never. Never, Bailey—”
“I was kidding. Relax. Is it life-threatening? Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Does it require our immediate attention?”
“I guess not.”
“Later, then. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Bailey smiled. At the moment, she really, truly didn’t care what it was. She had more than she could handle. But it was weird, the light freaking out just as Brad was about to bare his soul yet again. He was probably giving off so much energy it was interfering with the electricity. A far-out concept, yes. But Bailey was starting to get used to the “far-out.” Unfortunately, she doubted the Coast Guard would be so open to her explanation. Bailey took Brad’s hand and they went downstairs to face the firing squad.
 
Bailey was up early the next morning. She didn’t sleep well after the lecture from the Coast Guard. It was their light, they had the access to it, they were the ones who automated it, yet because they couldn’t figure out what was wrong, Brad and Bailey were the ones getting blamed for it. Bailey probably shouldn’t have insisted it was their problem, but really, was she wrong?
And although she couldn’t get rid of the Coast Guard, the board was going to get the axe. She was going to make breakfast extra special just in case their guests took her “pay if you want to stay” speech the wrong way. On her way through the living room she noticed that the guest book was open. A new entry had been scribbled in last night.
 
WHAT A TREAT. WHAT HOSPITALITY. THANKS A LOT.
 
It wasn’t signed. It was also in red pen instead of the black that Bailey kept next to the book. But the most striking thing was that it was written in all caps. Didn’t they know all caps was offensive?
WHAT A TREAT. WHAT HOSPITALITY. THANKS A LOT.
Oh my God,
Bailey thought.
Who wrote this?
It was meant to be sarcastic, snide. Here they are, staying for free, getting waited on hand and foot—okay maybe breakfast was a little tense the other day, but come on. This kind of rudeness could not be tolerated. She picked up the phone and called Captain Jack.
 
They were all seated, waiting for their food. The smell of eggs and bacon and pancakes permeated the room. Bailey even had fresh fruit and oatmeal for Kimmy. Even Vera seemed relaxed. Ever since the sleep-eating incident she’d been sharing a tent with Daniel. New love must have done the trick, for Vera hadn’t broken into the kitchen since. Bailey would have never put those two together. She had a lot to learn about reading her guests. Which meant the culprit could be anyone. Bailey stood at the head of the table with her hands full. But instead of plates to pass out, she was holding blank paper and red pens. Captain Jack had come through with the red pens, although it had cost her.
“Before you eat, you’ll need to make a comment on this sheet with this red pen,” Bailey said.
“Bailey?” Brad said. He was leaning on the kitchen counter behind her. Bailey ignored him. She already knew what Brad’s handwriting looked like; he didn’t need to participate.
“You can write whatever you want, as long as it’s in capital letters.”
“Bailey?” Brad said again. “A word?” He was using a tone of voice she knew well. If she didn’t give in and talk to him, he would escalate. It was just as she feared—they would never be alone to fight. Sheila was holding the entire stack of paper and pens, looking confused.
“Please take one and pass it down,” Bailey said. “I’ll be right back.” She joined Brad by the counter and tried to keep her voice low.
“What?”
“What are you doing?” Bailey took Brad’s arm and led him to the guest book. She opened it to the correct page and pointed to the comment. Brad read aloud.
“ ‘What a treat. What hospitality. Thanks a lot!’ ” He smiled, looked at Bailey. “That’s awesome,” he said when she didn’t respond. Bailey wanted to hit him over the head with the book. She was starting to think that married couples should be allowed a couple of free wallops a day.
“It’s sarcastic, look. Red letters and all caps.”
“Maybe they’re just passionate. Red is the color of passion.” Brad always looked for the best in people. It wouldn’t have been the first thought that crossed her mind. Red was also the color of rage, and hot tamales.
“Trust me,” Bailey said. “It’s not a nice message.”
Brad glanced toward the kitchen. “So what’s the plan, Nancy Drew? Are you collecting handwriting samples?”
“Damn right I am,” Bailey said.
Brad threw his head back and laughed. “You can’t do that,” he said. “It’s freedom of speech.”
“Freeloaders don’t have a right to freedom of speech,” Bailey said. She turned on him and marched back into the kitchen. She stood at the head of the table. “Did everyone write down something in capital letters?”
“I don’t get it,” Sheila said. “What are we supposed to write?”
“How about a good-bye letter?” Bailey said. She smiled ear to ear to help ease the blow. “I’m sure you—as the board—will all be thrilled to know that this coming weekend we are going to have our first paying guests. Therefore, this will be your last night staying here for free. If you would like to continue staying, you will have to pay for your rooms. And tents,” she added with a glance to the campers.
“What about our energy circle?” Sheila said.
“The séance will be tonight,” Bailey said. “Seven
P.M.
sharp.”
“It’s an energy circle,” Angel said.
“Can you please pass your papers up and I’ll get breakfast served,” Bailey said. She was losing her patience. Why did they have to keep talking back? Bailey glanced at the papers as they came in. “Did everyone put their names on it?”
“What subject are you teaching?” Angel said with a snort. “I forgot to check the syllabus.” Brad took the sheets out of Bailey’s hand and set them on the counter.
“Who wants what for breakfast?” he said, slightly pushing Bailey out of the way. Bailey subtly went over to the pieces of paper. Nobody put their names on it.
WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY
I LOVE LIGHTHOUSES!!!
I’M HUNGRY
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL
THIS IS STUPID
 
And the rest were blank. Bailey turned to see if she had any champagne left in the fridge, for she needed just a little something to take the edge off, when she noticed someone had written something on there as well, using the magnetic letters.
 
GET OUT
 
Was this a joke? Had Vera written a message to herself while sleep-eating? To top it off there wasn’t any orange juice left, let alone champagne. Brad served their guests, but he didn’t even ask Bailey if she wanted a cup of coffee. By the time she got to the pot it was empty. She set about making a new one. She opened the drawer to get a measuring spoon. Brad brushed by her, and in doing so his hip slammed the drawer on her thumb.

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