Chapter Seven
You be heading down to the inn now.” Ruby stood in the kitchen, a mug of tea in her hand and that look on her face that Chrissie’s mother always called Ruby’s know-it-all look. Her gaze lowered to Chrissie’s sandaled feet. “Might want to put on some sneakers.”
Chrissie looked down at her sandals. They were white leather and were thickly cushioned, a good choice for walking, she’d thought, since it was Sunday, and Sunday meant walkabout with Jared.
“Might want to put on a shirt with some sleeves and maybe a pair of shorts ’stead of that short skirt you got on.”
“May I ask why I should change?” Chrissie said as respectfully as possible.
“Sun gonna be hot today. Don’t want to catch a burn.” Ruby drank some tea, then opened the cookie jar. “Looks like Owen cleaned us outta those chocolate cookies you made the other day.”
“I’ll make more when I get back.” Chrissie kissed Ruby on the cheek and tried to ignore the fact that the woman had that same look on her face, the one that said I know things you don’t know. The look Chrissie had been trying to learn to ignore since she arrived on the island and still hadn’t figured out how. “Are you sure you don’t want to visit with Grace today? I don’t mind waiting if you’ve changed your mind and you want to take a few minutes to get ready.”
“I be fine right here. Got that new book to finish. But you see her at the inn, you tell her I’ll be calling on her this week.”
“I’ll see you in a while.” Chrissie went out the back door, then stopped. Had she told Ruby she was going to the inn? She didn’t think she had. “Gigi,” she called back into the store, “how did you know I was going to the inn?”
“How do you think I knew?”
Chrissie shook her head and went toward the car, then changed her mind and decided to walk. She was early, so she wasn’t afraid of missing Jared. She went around the back of the inn and over the dune to the road, then crossed the bridge into St. Dennis. Ruby had been right about one thing: it was going to get progressively warmer as the day went on, but the white tank top and the short khaki skirt would be just right if the temperature rose, so what was all that about longer sleeves and sneakers and shorts? Chrissie wondered if Ruby had gotten mixed messages somehow from where it was that her knowing came from.
She smiled at a group of bikers who passed her who apparently were heading toward the island, since there was nothing else at this farthest end of Charles Street except for a few short side streets. The bikes and the helmets all had ISP stickers for the Inn at Sinclair’s Point, and she wondered if they were just early season tourists or if maybe they were there to check out the houses Cass had for sale. The last time they’d spoken, Cass had said she had three spec houses completed and they were beginning their ad campaign. Chrissie wondered how having all the new people on the island would change things. Ruby didn’t seem at all concerned, so she shouldn’t be, either. She wished she could afford to buy the house that would be built on the lot where the old Singer house had stood. She knew ancestors of hers had built that place. She’d stopped at the graveyard that still stood undisturbed next to the foundation of the old house. She was pretty sure one of her great-grandmothers was buried in that yard, and she kept meaning to ask Ruby about it. Her mother had told her so little, she was never really sure who was who.
She tried to keep her mind focused on the island, and the graveyard, and the lost relatives—even the bikers—anything to keep her from thinking about Jared and the fact that he’d wanted to spend the afternoon with her.
How crazy was that?
The fact that he found her interesting enough to spend time with, even as a friend, was mind-blowing. Jared was everything she thought a guy should be now that she knew better. He was respectful, he seemed interested in what she had to say and listened when she spoke, he wasn’t pushy—he’d even seemed somewhat indignant about that staff member of Dallas’s who’d grabbed her butt—and he treated her like a person who had feelings and opinions of her own. The fact that he was probably the hottest guy she’d ever been within five feet of, well, that was a bonus. She’d always liked dark-haired guys with blue eyes, guys who were buff but didn’t try to show it off, guys who had a sense of humor, guys who were nice guys.
Guys like Jared, but they’d never seemed to notice her.
She felt that just getting to where she knew definitively what she liked in a man was a step forward for her. It had been so long since she’d noticed. Not that she was looking for someone. There was that whole trust issue to get past, but she’d cleared one hurdle, and that was enough for now. She’d know when she was ready for another relationship. She was pretty sure she wasn’t now, but being friends with Jared was helping her to relax and be herself with a guy. Knowing he didn’t expect anything from her helped a lot.
Still, he was one gorgeous friend.
He was waiting on the porch outside the back door of the inn when she arrived, and she wasn’t surprised to see a pretty redheaded woman talking to him. Jared seemed to be a magnet for beautiful women. Chrissie slowed her step. Had he forgotten they’d agreed to meet for a tour date? How embarrassing would that be? She’d almost stopped walking when he looked over and saw her there, and he smiled.
“Hey, Chrissie.” He looked at his watch. “Right on time.”
She tried not to let it show that she’d been holding a big breath that she now had to let out. As she walked toward him, she heard him say, “Gotta go. My friend’s here. Have a great afternoon.”
He came down off the steps and said, “So are you ready for our adventure today?”
“I am. Was there anything in particular you wanted to see? Someplace you want to go?” Chrissie felt the heat from the redhead’s glare as the woman walked away. She tried really hard not to feel good about that.
“Yes, and yes. Come on.”
They were at the end of the driveway where it met the parking lot. Chrissie started off down the drive, but after she’d taken several steps, she realized Jared wasn’t with her. She turned to find him where she’d left him, his hands on his hips, his dark glasses covering his eyes.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I thought we were going to explore St. Dennis.” She pointed toward the center of town.
“We are.” He took several steps in her direction. “But I thought we agreed it would be my choice this time around.”
“We did.”
“Okay, then, come on.” He took her by the elbow and led her down toward the water’s edge.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to explore St. Dennis.”
Jared smiled at the young man standing at the water’s edge as they approached the dock. “Thanks for watching this one for me. I’m sure you could have rented it several times over.”
“I couldn’t do that with your gear in it already,” said the guy, who appeared to Chrissie to be about fifteen.
Jared slipped him what must have been a tip. The boy pocketed the bill and said, “Thanks. Have fun,” before walking away.
Jared turned to Chrissie. “You ready?”
“For what?” She looked at the boat, which she recognized. “Is that Owen’s boat?”
Jared nodded. “He loaned it to me for the day. I picked it up at Alec’s earlier this morning. You know what it is?”
She rolled her eyes and pretended to be insulted. “Please, you’re talking to a woman who’s been living on the bay for the past eight—almost nine—months now, and who spent a lot of summers here when I was a kid. Like I wouldn’t know a deadrise when I saw one. Especially since the name is right there across the back: Gigi. Duh.”
He laughed good-naturedly. “I have to admit I’d never seen one before I started hanging around with Owen. Interesting design, that sharp bow and the flat bottom. I guess it makes a great work boat for shallow areas if you’re crabbing or digging oysters.” He reached a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go see what we can see.”
He grinned and helped her step onto the deck. The soles of her sandals were leather, and she barely avoided slipping, catching herself before she fell.
“Where are we going?” she asked for the second time.
“Just relax and enjoy the ride.”
He untied the boat from the dock and started the inboard motor. There were two chairs fixed to the deck, and he pointed to one.
“I assume you know how to drive one of these.”
Jared laughed. “I’ve yet to find the craft I couldn’t drive. Have a seat and we’ll be on our way.”
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“So many questions.” That grin again.
He backed the boat away from the dock and straightened her out, then headed north, driving slowly, taking his time.
“Interesting perspective of the town from here, don’t you think?” he said as they went a little farther out into the bay.
“There’s the park,” she said, stretching her neck and looking toward the shore.
He pushed the throttle a little to increase the speed. “And around this next bend . . .”
“Scoop and the marina.” She got up and went to the side of the open cabin to lean on the half wall. “There’s Captain Walt’s. And there’s Alec’s boatyard. I’ve never seen the town from the water. It looks so quaint and picturesque.”
“Everything looks different from the water.” Jared stood behind her, one arm still on the steering wheel, and watched as they passed the big stone jetty upon which Captain Walt’s restaurant had been built.
“Now for some fun.” He slowly let out the engine until they were speeding into the bay. Chrissie held on to her sunglasses and tried to hold back her hair, which was whipping around her face like a pale blond curtain.
“Goat Island,” he said, pointing ahead, but she couldn’t hear him over the engine.
“What?” she yelled.
He eased back the engine. “Goat Island.”
“Oh, I remember Goat Island. In late August, they have a weekend they call Discover St. Dennis. It’s when they show off the town for tourists. They have a big parade and boat races. The island is the turning point for the race. The boats go around the island, then head back to the finish line.” Chrissie remembered the last time she’d been in St. Dennis for the big celebratory weekend. Ten years ago? Eight? She couldn’t remember. “They have a cocktail party on Friday night to raise money for community things, like new playground equipment. It used to be a big boon for the town because it brought people into the restaurants and the B and Bs. I missed it last year by a month. I didn’t get here until September.”
“Sounds like a fun weekend. Maybe I’ll come back for it this year if I’m not out of the country.”
They were almost to the island, which was small, rocky, and uninhabited.
“It looks smaller than it used to.” Chrissie stepped away from the cabin to lean on the railing near the back of the boat. “Of course, I’ve only seen it from the shore, so maybe it’s just a matter of perspective.”
“It could be smaller now.” He slowed the boat even more as they drew closer to the narrow beach. “I’ve read about the bay waters rising and devouring low-lying areas. I wouldn’t be surprised if this little island has lost some ground. Owen told me that a number of islands have disappeared altogether. It’s high toward the middle, but the beach is low.”
He drove the boat around the island, careful to avoid the large rocks that seemed to grow out of the water.
“Yeah, look there.” He stood so close behind Chrissie she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She tried to ignore the goose bumps that rose on the skin there and the warmth that spread through her body. “See the rocks jutting out of the water, and the ones closer to shore? I bet they were part of the beach at one time. And I’d be real surprised if they still had boats racing around out here. It would be too easy to rip open your hull.” He turned back toward the steering wheel. “Which is why we’re heading out.”
He swung toward the center of the back, and once he hit deeper water, made a wide turn.
“Where to now?” she asked, stepping into the shade of the canvas canopy that hung over the open cabin. The sun was getting hotter by the minute, or so it seemed. She could feel her shoulders starting to sizzle in the short time she’d been out of the cabin area.
“Up a lazy river.”
She narrowed her eyes. “All the rivers around here are pretty lazy.”
He pointed ahead. “Keep your eyes open and you’ll see.”
Again, he took his time, keeping the boat at a slow and easy speed.
“Hey, look. That’s the Altman House.” Chrissie pointed toward land. “That’s the only house to be hit by a cannonball during the War of 1812. The people in town knew the British would be sailing at night and would fire on the houses closest to the water. So they kept their houses dark and set lanterns hanging in the trees. When the Brits came close to the harbor—which was too shallow to bring them close enough to shore to see much of anything except the lights from the lanterns—”
“They fired at the trees. Owen told me that story.”
“Only one house was hit, and that’s it.” Chrissie pointed to the redbrick house that stood back off the bay at the end of a lush grassy lawn. Pilings had been built to shore up the dock where a long cabin cruiser was moored. “Gigi told me one time that the cannonball is still embedded in the back wall of the house.”
“Imagine, we’re probably right about where that British ship was when it fired that cannon,” Jared said.
“The town was besieged by more than the British. You might have heard the stories about the pirates that used to come into the cove.”
“Pirates,” he said flatly. “Now who’s talking about the improbable?”
“No, they really did. Gigi used to tell us the stories when we were little. They’d tie up in the cove and come ashore in the middle of the night, then they’d capture all the young women in the town and take them over to the square, where they’d keep them for three days, then ransom them back to the husbands or fathers or brothers.”
“And you believe that?” He scoffed. “Any self-respecting pirate would have just taken the women and rowed back to the ship. After they pillaged the town.”
“No, it’s true.” Chrissie laughed. “Gigi said so. There’s even a weekend in St. Dennis to commemorate the event every year.”
“Sounds more like another event intended to bring in tourists than a commemoration of a real event.”
“Well, of course they’re exploiting it. But it did happen.”
“So they, what, call Rent-a-Pirate?”
“No. Guys from town dress up like pirates and carry off their wives or girlfriends or sisters, then they have a sort of auction and someone has to cough up the cash to get them released.”
“Does St. Dennis have some kind of commemoration every month? It seems like there’s always something.”
“That’s because something is always going on. It’s a tourist town, and the local businesses do well as long as the tourists keep coming back. They have events right through the winter. November and December are really busy around here.”
“I’ll bet.” He turned the wheel slightly to the left. “Owen told me the War of 1812 was when some people were driven out of St. Dennis and onto the island.”
“By ‘some people,’ you mean our ancestors—Owen’s, Lis’s, and mine,” she said. “Did he tell you why they were sent across the river? They had to ford it, right about where the bridge is now, with only whatever possessions they could carry.”
“He said they were loyal to the crown, and that after the Brits conscripted several young men from St. Dennis to serve in their navy, the loyalists were blamed.”
“They literally forced them onto the island, assuming they’d most likely die there. Cannonball Island was considered to be uninhabitable. There was nothing there but a bunch of scrub pines and sand and marsh.”
“I guess folks didn’t take kindly to their boys being abducted,” Jared said.
“You think that’s a good enough reason to send twenty-some families to their death?”
“They didn’t die, though, did they?’
“No, but only because they were tougher and smarter than anyone had given them credit for,” she snapped.
“So, yes, they’d have been tough.” He slowed the engine even more to the point where they were almost drifting. “How’d they build their shelters if there was only scrub pine available?”
“Relatives who were not loyalists brought them supplies by boat so the others on the mainland wouldn’t see they were helping,” she told him.
“Well, then, they weren’t exactly left to die, and all the folks in St. Dennis weren’t evil.” Before she could reply, he said, “Just looking for facts here.”
“Sorry. Depending on who you talk to, the people in St. Dennis were either the devil’s spawn or folks just seeking justice for their lost boys,” she said. “Gigi was always sort of proud to have been descended from one of the early people on the island. Owen’s dad was obsessed with what he perceived as the injustice of it all. He never got over it, never let Owen or Lis make friends with any of the kids from St. Dennis. He was a mean cuss anyway.”
“Well, both Owen and Lis are great people, so apparently none of his meanness stuck.”
“Lucky for the rest of us.” Chrissie walked out onto the deck of the slow-moving boat. “Oh, that’s the New River over on the left.”
“I know. That’s where we’re headed.”
“Why the river?”
“We’re sightseeing, remember?” Jared flashed a smile. “Get ready to see some sights.”
He turned into the river and took the sharp curve gently. The banks were heavily wooded until they’d gone about a quarter mile upstream.
“There on your right are the warehouses Dallas bought for her studio.” He pointed up ahead.
“How do you know that?” Chrissie frowned. “I’ve been in St. Dennis longer than you and I just found that out last week.”
“I made it my business to find out. Okay, I just found out over the weekend, and that was by accident. Grace told me.”
“Ha. So much for trying to pass yourself off as an expert.”
Jared laughed. “And right up there, behind those trees, if you look up the hill . . .”
“It’s Blossoms!” Chrissie grinned. “I knew the woods were thick behind the building, but I had no idea they extended so far along the waterline.”
“Wait till you see what comes next.”
“You seem to know a lot about River Road from the back side. Did you already make this run?”
“Only from the road,” he admitted. “And that was a week or so ago.”
The boat scared a small flock of birds that rested on the low limbs of a tree that hung over the water. They scattered in a cluster. Moments later, the woods gave way to spacious lawns that surrounded stately homes and that ended in docks where boats were moored.
“Nice neighborhood,” Chrissie said. “I drive on River Road every day and I never saw this section.”
“It’s because the houses are set so far back, and most of them have evergreens or wooded areas planted along the roadway.”
A little farther up the river, Jared cut the engine again. “See that house?” He pointed to a Victorian mansion. A carriage house overlooked the water and what might have been a boathouse sat close to the dock.
“Who lives there?”
“Berry Townsend. Dallas’s aunt. She was—”
“I know. A great film star. She was in the fashion show last week. But I heard she’s actually Dallas’s grandmother, not her aunt.”
“Really? Are you sure that’s not just gossip?”
“Nope. Reliable source and all that.”
“Interesting. Anyway, that’s some pad, right?”
“It really is.” Chrissie was still standing. “There’s a fence around the front. I guess to keep the riffraff out. I don’t blame her. It’s a beautiful property. If I lived in a house like that, I’d probably have the entire place fenced in, too.”
“Somehow I don’t see you in a place like that,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I think it’s too over the top for you. Doesn’t suit your personality. As least, as I know it.”
She turned to look at him. “What do you think suits me?”
“Someplace . . . I don’t know, someplace not ostentatious. More comfortable, more casual, relaxed, maybe. I don’t see myself walking into that mansion and kicking off my shoes, for example. I don’t see you comfortable in a place where you can’t kick off your shoes, either.”
“That’s because neither of us are Hollywood royalty,” she told him.
Jared nodded slowly. “That could be it.”
“So where to now?” Chrissie asked.
“Now we turn around down here where the river gets wider, and we start back in the opposite direction.”
He kept the slow pace so as to not disturb the boats tied at the docks they passed, but once back out onto the bay, he opened the engine and sped toward town. Chrissie’d expected him to dock at the inn, but he kept going.
“I thought you said we were going back.” She pointed to the inn.
“Nope. We still have sights to see.”
“The inn looks so regal from here,” she said. “When you come in through the front, you don’t appreciate that there are different wings. The porch looks like it came right off a southern plantation.” She thought for a moment. “Which probably isn’t a surprise, since I think I read somewhere that the original structure—that center part—was built in the 1850s.”
“It’s impressive.” He pointed to the tennis courts. “Look, that’s where I gave up three tennis games in a row to one of my crewmembers last week.”
“Sounds like someone needs to practice.”
“Someone needs to find a different game. For some reason, tennis just isn’t mine.”
“More into team sports?”
“Not really that, either. I played soccer when I was in school, but I missed a lot of games because my dad liked to take me with him when he went on dives, so I wasn’t a reliable teammate.”
“He just took you out of school whenever he felt like it?”
“Pretty much.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Don’t judge, or think he wasn’t a great dad, because he was. Besides, I learned more on those trips than I would have learned in a classroom. Geography, history, anthropology, archaeology, languages—and I was exposed to so many different cultures at a young age. I learned to see the whole world as one. One planet. One people. I’ll never forget the lessons I learned from him.” They passed the remnants of a lighthouse that once stood at the end of Bayview Drive, and passed the cove that harbored Sunset Beach. Jared fell silent until they crossed the sound and the island came into view.
“Oh, I never saw the island from the water,” Chrissie said. “It looks almost deserted.”
“From here it does, yeah.” He pointed off to the left. “There’s the store.”
She crossed the deck and leaned on the railing. “I can see my room from here. Second floor, third window on the right.”
“Now I know where to put the ladder,” he said.
She turned and looked at him. “Planning a little B and E?”
“You never know when wanderlust might strike and I might need my travel companion.”
“Tossing a few stones at the window would be just as effective.”
“I have a hell of a pitch. Ruby might get annoyed if I break a window or two.”
“Good point. In that case, the ladders are in the garden shed.”
“I’ll make a note.”
She turned back to the island view and he guided the boat into one of the coves.
“Owen said one reason why he likes his deadrise is the flat bottom,” Jared said. “You can take it into shallow water and not get stuck. Unless, of course, you beach it. Then all bets are off.”
“I can see some of those little houses Cass is selling. I think she was having them open to the public today. She’s hoping to sell a few on spec.” Having ditched the sandals, Chrissie stood on her tiptoes. “Have you seen any of them yet?”
“No. I keep meaning to, though. I’m curious.”
“If I could afford it, I’d buy one. There’s something so incredibly cool about what she’s doing. Building new houses using as much of the old material as she can—the wood that made up the floors, the bricks from the fireplaces, in some cases the glass from the windows.” Chrissie sighed. “I’d love to live in a place so full of history.”
“You live in a place full of history right now. Owen said the store was one of the first buildings to go up on the island, maybe the first.”
“True, but it’s not mine. I’ve never had a place that was just mine. I think I’d like it.” She shrugged. “At least, I’d like the chance to find out.”
“Well, then, I hope one day you do that. Find a place that’s just yours. I think everyone should live alone for a while. It’s easier to sort things out when you’re by yourself.”
He drove the boat out of the cove and toward the point.
“Lis and I used to sit on that pier,” she told him as they passed by. “We used to crab there. Sometimes I still go all the way out to the end by myself and watch the sun set on the bay. It’s such a peaceful place.”
He drove around to the other side of the island where the house Owen and Cass were renovating stood in a clearing.
“My great-grandad—Gigi’s Harold, her husband—was born in that house,” Chrissie told him. “His father was a waterman and he built the place for his wife before he’d even proposed to her.”
“Now, there’s a confident man.”
“No doubt,” she agreed. “He had to have known she’d say yes. They raised a family of seven children and she died right after the seventh was born. Six months later, he married a younger woman and had seven more kids with her.”
“Not only confident but virile.”
Chrissie laughed. “She died before he did, then he passed away a few months later.” She stared at the island and the house for what seemed like a long time. “For years I wanted to know about my family. My mother always blew me off, didn’t think any of it was interesting. But Ruby comes out with these gems every once in a while without me even asking. I love to think about them living here and working so hard to make a good life for themselves and each other and their children. There must have been something really strong inside those people. I want to think that some of their strength has come down through the generations. I want to be able to be that strong.”
“You seem pretty strong—pretty together to me,” he told her.
“Do I?” Her smile was slow in coming. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Thank you.”
Could she ever tell him who she used to be? How New Chrissie had fought so hard and come so far from Old Chrissie? Would she ever be able to tell anyone just how bad things had been for her?
“Anyway, that old place was vacant for years, since Harold’s youngest brother died. We used to play in it when we were kids. Gigi gave it to Owen to fix up. It’s going to be beautiful when he’s finished with it.”
“He reminds me every chance he gets,” Jared said. “They’re going to have one hell of a view, that’s for sure.”
“If you’re nice to him, maybe he’ll let you sit on his back patio and watch the sun set sometime.”
Around one more curve of land, and there was Jared’s ship, the Cordelia E.
“It’s bigger than it looks from the island,” Chrissie said.
“She’s a good size. Probably a little bigger than what I need for this job, but she’s a favorite of mine. Dad’s, too. He named her after Delia, as you can see.” He pointed to the name of the ship painted across the back.
He drove around the ship, waved to the crewman on the deck who watched him go by, then drove the deadrise into the mouth of the river, where he pulled back on the throttle.
“The ship you’re salvaging, the merchant ship. It’s around here somewhere, right?”
Jared pointed down. “We’re over it.”
“It’s right down there?”
He nodded, and she leaned over the side of the boat.
“I don’t see anything,” she said. “The water’s so dark here.”
“The water in the Chesapeake is dark, and the river’s no better. It’s a tough place to dive, but that’s what makes it interesting.”
“But how can you see if it’s so dark?’
“We bring in lights.” He grinned. “They cast a ghostly glow over everything, so it’s just a little on the creepy side the first time you experience it, but you get used to it soon enough.”
“Not me. I’d never get used to it. Being underwater and in the dark?” The thought of it made her wince. “I don’t think so.”
“Anytime you want to go down there with me, you just say the word. My sister always keeps a wet suit on board here, so you could—”
“No. No, I couldn’t.”
“I bet if you dove someplace where the water was clear and there were pretty little fishes swimming around you, you’d love it.”
“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t. But we’ll never know, because I’ll never do it.”
“Well, your loss. It’s a whole new beautiful, ever-changing world, Chris.”
“I’m happy for you that you found something you love. Now change the subject.”
He groaned, apparently frustrated, but did as she asked. She moved to the stern and took a long, deep breath. “The air smells saltier here than it did closer to St. Dennis.”
“That’s because the bay’s saltier here. We’re closer to the ocean, which is salt water. St. Dennis is close to the New River, which is freshwater, and there’s more freshwater in the upper portion of the bay. Remember, the Chesapeake’s an estuary, and the ocean water flows up into it just as the Susquahanna River flows down. So some areas have salt water, some fresh. St. Dennis is in one of those areas where the two meet and mix.”
“I never think about the river flowing down,” she admitted. “I just always think it’s salty because the water around the island is salt water.”
“Anyway, the ship is down there and it’s making me crazy not to be down there with it. I know Owen’s getting antsy and my crew got impatient, so I had to let most of them go home until we get the thumbs-up to dive. I did keep a couple of my guys to stay with the boat when I’m not on it. We alternate nights on shore and nights on the boat.”
“So you have sleeping quarters?”
“Enough for eight men. And a cabin for the captain.” He nudged her with his elbow. “That would be me.”
She stared over the railing into the dark water. “Gigi always refers to that ship down there as the tea ship.”
“That’s what it was carrying when it went down. It apparently was running from a ship that would have confiscated its cargo, so the captain tried to hide it in the river. Like you can hide a ship that big. He didn’t realize how shallow the river is here, and he went aground, and then the storm hit. I have some photos we took on the last dive before we were shut down. They’re on the Cordy E, though. I’ll show you sometime.”
“Can you see the Native American village in the photos?”
“Not really.”
“Then how do you know it was there?”
“Artifacts that were found there. A lot of pottery. Some fishing implements, tools, arrowheads. Local legend pointed us in that direction, and the vestiges of the people who lived there proved the legend right.”
“Gigi said that at one time, that piece of land”—she pointed across the river opposite the island—“extended clear on out past the middle of the river, so close you could walk from one side to the other at low tide.”
“She wouldn’t have been alive that long ago,” Jared pointed out.
“I don’t know how she knows.” Ruby’s words when Chrissie was leaving the store rang in her ears—“How do you think I know?”—and Chrissie smiled.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Just . . . nothing.”
He idled the engine and opened the cooler that had been on the boat when they picked it up.
“Water?” he asked, holding up a bottle.
“I’d love one.” She took the bottle and opened it. She drank some and wished she could pour the rest of it over her arms and legs. Gigi had been right about the danger of sunburn, even this early in the season. Her bare arms and legs were soaking up the heat. And if she’d known she’d have to be climbing on—then later off—a boat, she wouldn’t have worn a short skirt. Gigi’d been right about that, too.
Of course she had.
She could feel his gaze and sensed there was something he was about to say, but he wasn’t saying it. His indecision was making her a little uncomfortable.
“So what else can’t you explain?” she asked to break the silence.
“What?” He seemed to snap out of the fog he’d been in.
“You said there were many things you’d seen that you couldn’t explain. UFOs being one of them. The abandoned city. What else?”
He thought for a moment. “There’s a place where airplanes disappear without a trace. They go missing, but no sign is ever found of the plane or the passengers or the cargo.”
“The Bermuda Triangle. Everyone’s heard of that.”
“Correction. The Alaskan Triangle.” He smiled smugly.
“I never heard of the Alaskan Triangle. I think you just made it up.”
He shook his head. “Nope. It’s true. Over sixteen thousand people have disappeared in the Alaskan wilderness. Did you ever hear of Hale Boggs?”
“No.”
“He was the majority leader of the US House of Representatives. In 1972, the plane he was on disappeared between Anchorage and Juneau. There was a massive search, as you’d expect for one of our highest-elected officials. Civilian planes as well as military—close to one hundred planes—and an untold number of people searched on land over an area that covered thirty-two thousand miles.”
“And . . . ?” She gestured for him to continue.
“And nothing. They never found the plane nor any trace of it.”
“I thought we were talking about things you’d seen that you couldn’t explain.”
He nodded.
“A couple of years ago, the brother of one of my regular crew flew his plane up there, just wanted to look around, see what the wilderness was all about. Long story short, the plane took off one morning from Juneau and disappeared. Our entire crew went up to join the search team but nothing was ever found. No plane, no distress signal, no trace.”
“I thought all planes had black boxes.”
“It was an old private plane, but it should have had a locator transmitter on board, yes. There’s no explanation as to why there was no signal. We searched for ten days, and I can tell you those were the roughest ten days of my life. I’d never want to do that again.”
“None of the other planes were ever recovered, either?”
“Not that I ever heard about.”
“Huh.” She thought it over. “What do you think happened?”
Jared shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Some have suggested some type of magnetic field, others have said there are holes in the glaciers that can swallow up a plane and disappear after an avalanche. I have no theory. Like I said before, there are many things we can’t explain. Even some things we’ve observed ourselves.”
“There has to be a logical explanation.”
“When you figure it out, make sure to tell me, okay? I’ll pass on the information to my crewman. Maybe you can help him find his brother.”
“I used to have Alaska on my bucket list of places to visit. I think I’ll take that one off.”
“Don’t be so quick to dismiss it. It’s beautiful, wild, and in the warm season—which maybe is July—it’s worth exploring. But it can be a dangerous place, no question about it.”
“Like I said. Off the bucket list.”
“So anything else you want to see while we’re out here?” he asked.
“I’d say your tour was pretty comprehensive. The wreck in the river? Check. Cannonball Island? The inn? Charming historic bayside town? Check, check, and check.” She finished the last bit of water in the bottle. “Oh, and all the fancy houses on River Road. Check those, too.”
“Then I guess we can give Owen’s boat back.” Jared stepped under the canopy and started the engine. Within minutes they were skimming the coast of the island, then St. Dennis, until they reached the small dock where Alec kept boats he was working on. Jared lifted the cooler and set it on the dock, then showed Chrissie how to tie the boat securely and helped her from the boat onto the dock.
She was prepared to walk back to the inn, so she was surprised when Jared took his car keys from his pocket.
“I drove down here to get the boat this morning,” he explained as he grabbed the cooler. “I’ll drive you back to the island.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Positive.”
He’d left his rented sedan under a tree, where the shade had kept the leather seats from frying in the full sun. He unlocked the car and Chrissie got into the passenger seat while Jared placed the cooler in the trunk and got into the driver’s seat.
“So what do you have planned this week?” he asked as he started the car and pulled out of the parking place.
“Work, mostly.” She thought about it for a moment. “Actually, that’s pretty much it. How ’bout you?”
“I think I’ll drive over to Annapolis, spend a few days with an old friend while I have the time, and hope we get the all clear soon so we can go back to work. At least Owen has his house to work on.”
“Well, if you get bored, I’m sure Cass would be happy to give you a tour of her houses. It’s a development, sort of, just not all the houses together on the same street or in the same area. There are a few on Dune Drive, but they’re scattered here and there among the dunes.”
Jared was already driving over the bridge onto the island. He pulled into the store’s lot and put the car into park but didn’t turn off the engine.
“Chrissie, I want to ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“I told you my dad’s getting married in two weeks. The Saturday after next.”
“To Delia Enright, yes, you did. It’s exciting.”
“Well, for them it is. Not to say I’m not excited and happy for my dad and for Delia, but . . .” Jared paused. “So here’s the thing. Delia told me I have to bring a date for the weekend. The entire weekend, which begins on Thursday and ends on Sunday night, so we might as well say Monday. She said something about wanting an even number at the table. The problem is I’m not dating anyone, and there’s no one I could stand to be around for four days straight. Except you. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t act like most women.” He paused again. “That was a compliment, by the way, in case you’re wondering.”
“Okay.” Her brain was beginning to fog up. Was he asking her to be his date for his father’s wedding?
“Would you go with me, Chris? Would you be my date for the weekend? No pressure on you to . . . well, you know, we’ll be together a lot that weekend, but I don’t want you to think I’m going to take advantage of the situation, if you know what I mean. You’re the only woman I know whose company I enjoy enough to even think I could spend that much time with and not wish I hadn’t.”
He was. He did.
“Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to be your date for your father’s wedding, no strings, just to have as the obligatory companion for the weekend.”
“That’s pretty much it, yeah.”
She needed to think about this. Four days away with Jared as his friend-slash-date?
“I need to think about it.”
“What’s to think about? We’re friends, right? I just want a friend for those four days. Someone I feel comfortable with. That I don’t have to feel like I’m on all the time, or that I have to try to impress her. I never feel like I need to be someone else when I’m with you.”
“Who do you feel like?”
“I feel like myself. And I always feel like that’s enough for you.”
“Well, thank you.” Chrissie paused. “But I still have to think about it.” When he looked like he was about to protest again, she said, “For one thing, I have to make sure Sophie is okay with me taking off what for her is half her week. And she’s getting more pregnant all the time. Which means she’s more tired—” Chrissie stopped. “Wait. Your dad’s marrying Delia Enright. Sophie’s probably invited to the wedding. I couldn’t ask for the same time off. If she’s not going to be there, she’s going to depend on me to—”
Jared held up a hand as if to stop the flow of words.
“Sophie isn’t related to Delia. Delia was Craig Enright’s first wife, remember? Sophie’s mom was the second or third wife. While they’re a pretty friendly bunch, I’d be real surprised if Sophie and her brother were invited to Delia’s wedding. I think it’s just going to be family and maybe a few very close friends.”
Still . . . four days with Jared . . .
“So okay, take a few days to think about it.” He opened the driver’s-side door and got out, then walked around the car to open her door. “You can let me know this week. How’s Wednesday sound?”