When the Stars Sang Page 9

  “Shit.”

  She drove through the dark streets of Portland toward the ferry landing. No sense in wasting money on a motel room. She parked in the nearly empty parking lot and reclined the seat, making herself as comfortable as she could. She’d grab a few hours’ sleep, then go to where her boat was docked and be back on the island not long after dawn. Not exactly the night she’d had planned.

  Secured in the cargo area was the new reciprocating saw and drill bits she’d bought for herself, along with some flannel shirts her mom had asked her to pick up for her dad and the boys for Christmas. She reached over to the passenger seat and picked up the dog collar and leash she’d bought at the last minute. Green with pink blossoms woven into the nylon. For a dog named after a cartoon skunk. Adopted by a woman she didn’t understand—a woman who admitted she’d left her last relationship, who had basically run away from her old life.

  There were so many reasons to stay away from Kathleen Halloran. She fingered the collar. Since when have you done what you should?

  She wriggled into a more comfortable position and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 6

  THE COTTAGE WAS FILLED with the homely scents of garlic and onion and tomatoes. Kathleen breathed deeply, her stomach growling hungrily, as she stirred the sauce simmering on the stove. She was only a recreational cook, but she’d begged this family recipe for spaghetti sauce from a co-worker years ago, and it had become her go-to choice when she craved comfort food. Miranda and Tim didn’t stock Italian sausage at the market, so she’d had to make do with ground steak and regular sausage but… She spooned up a bit. Not bad. She adjusted the heat on the burner and went back out to the dining room. Blossom followed dutifully.

  Hands on her hips, she decided there was no way she could clear the dining table of all her gear. It was becoming obvious that she was going to have to set up a real office in one of the rooms upstairs. She sat down to try and finish one more chapter of this edit. Thankfully, this author knew the mechanics of good writing, and her job was much easier as a result. Working on this manuscript was a delight, more of a polishing than a total rewrite.

  She got so absorbed in her work that she lost track of time and was startled by Blossom’s low woof when a car came up the drive.

  “Crap.”

  She saved her work, powered off her computer, and went to open the front door just as Louisa and Olivia climbed the porch steps.

  “This was so nice of you, dear,” Louisa said as she entered, carrying a towel-covered pan.

  “Well, you gave me most of the ingredients for tonight’s dinner,” Kathleen said. “So it seemed like you should get to share it. Hope you like spaghetti.”

  “Oh, we like anything,” Olivia said, sniffing. She carried the box of ashes. “Mmmm, smells good.”

  “Come on in the kitchen.”

  Louisa held up her pan. “We brought brownies for dessert.”

  Kathleen put a pot of water on to boil while Olivia deposited the box on a chair and set the kitchen table. Blossom scratched at the back door to go out. Kathleen opened the door for him.

  “Won’t he run away?” Louisa asked as she got water glasses down from the cupboard. She spied the bottles of wine sitting on the counter and got wine glasses down as well.

  Kathleen smiled, remembering how annoying it had been at first for them to charge in and take over. “He hasn’t yet. I think he’s learned to like it here. A warm bed and plenty of food. Speaking of which, he’ll expect dinner when he comes in.”

  She scooped some kibble into his bowl.

  A few minutes later, the spaghetti was draining and Kathleen had the sauce poured into a blue and green ceramic bowl.

  “I remember when we gave this to Maisie,” Olivia said, admiring the bowl as Kathleen set it on the table. “For Christmas, wasn’t it, Lou?”

  Louisa nodded. “It was 1989.”

  Kathleen glanced at her. “How do you remember that?”

  “Oh, I’ve a head for dates.” Louisa chuckled. “Can’t say many of my pupils did.”

  A scratching at the back door announced Blossom’s return. Olivia opened the door, and he trotted in, trailing a leash hooked to a collar around his neck.

  “Where in the world—?”

  Molly’s face peeked around the doorjamb. “I don’t mean to interrupt your dinner party.”

  Olivia pulled her inside. “Of course you’re not interrupting. Get in here.”

  For a moment, Kathleen locked eyes with Molly. Something in that gaze felt physical. Kathleen’s face flushed, and she fished for something to say.

  “We didn’t expect you back on the island for a few days,” Louisa said. She went to the cupboards to get down another set of glasses.

  “Me either.”

  Kathleen squatted next to Blossom who was busily eating. She twisted the collar around to look at the shiny new tag attached to it. Etched into the metal heart was “BLOSSOM”.

  “What is this for?”

  Molly shuffled her feet, looking distinctly embarrassed. “Saw them at a store on the mainland. Embroidered blossoms. Just seemed like they should be his.”

  Kathleen held her gaze for a few heartbeats and then smiled and unclipped the leash from the collar. “Thank you.”

  Molly pointed toward the door. “I should go.”

  “Nonsense,” Louisa said. “We’ve plenty to go around. Molly, pour the wine. Ollie, get another plate and move Daddy.”

  THE LITTLE COTTAGE RANG with light and laughter. Two empty bottles of wine sat on the table.

  Louisa drained her wine glass. “I can’t remember the last time we had such a nice evening.”

  Olivia dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “It’s almost like Maisie’s here with us.”

  “Oh, don’t cry, Ollie,” Louisa said, patting her arm.

  “I am not crying. I had something in my eye.” Olivia snatched up her plate and Louisa’s. “Let’s clean up, sister.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Kathleen said.

  “We are not leaving you with a dirty kitchen,” Louisa said firmly. “You cooked. We clean.”

  Molly washed while Louisa dried. Olivia helped Kathleen spoon the leftover sauce into containers.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep some?” Olivia asked.

  “I still have enough for two more meals here.” Kathleen wrapped some of the leftover garlic bread for them. “You take this.”

  “I can drive you home,” Molly said.

  “We can drive ourselves,” Louisa said.

  Molly folded her arms. “When was the last time you had two glasses of wine, Miss Louisa? And it would be awkward if I had to arrest my teacher for driving under the influence.”

  “She’s right, sister.” Olivia scooped up the wooden box from the stool it had been sitting on. “Let Molly drive us.”

  Kathleen held a container out for Molly. “Some sauce for you, too.”

  As Molly took it from her, her fingers covered Kathleen’s. It felt as if the space between them was suddenly devoid of air. Somewhere behind her, Kathleen was aware of Louisa and Olivia gathering their things and talking but, for that moment, there was only Molly’s eyes and the touch of her hand.

  Kathleen caught herself and pulled her hand free. “Thank you again. For Blossom’s collar and leash.” She smiled and nodded at him. He was using one back foot to gently scratch at the collar, turning it in circles around his neck, making the tag jingle. “I think he likes it.”

  Molly backed away. “You’re welcome. Thanks for dinner. And this.” She lifted the plastic container. “Mom will be happy to have a meal she didn’t cook.”

  Kathleen and Blossom walked them all out. He trotted off into the trees while she waved goodnight.

  Olivia hung out the back window. “Good night, Katie!”

  The headlights swept through the darkness as Molly backed the car around and drove away.

  Kathleen shivered in the cold, watching the taillights disappear in the darkne
ss. She looked down at her hand, almost expecting it to glow from the heat she’d felt at Molly’s touch.

  She called for Blossom, who galloped out of the woods and bounded up the steps, his new collar and tag tinkling.

  “I’ll know where you are now.”

  He followed her inside. She locked the door—a habit she wasn’t sure she would ever lose—and adjusted the thermostat back down a little, mindful of Molly’s warning not to use up all of her oil too quickly.

  The house might not be toasty, but her insides tingled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the furnace.

  “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? Why aren’t you answering your phone? Give me a call asap or I’m calling the police.”

  Kathleen read the terse email several times. It hadn’t occurred to her that anyone might assume she was missing. Or that they might contact the police. She remembered Molly’s wild theory about her having faked her death and snorted.

  “Love, Dad,” she muttered.

  This was just like him. He could go for months and months without knowing or caring if she was alive, breathing, or sucked down a well. When he wanted something, then it became a matter of urgency. It was all about control with him.

  The message felt as if the real world had just dropped down on top of her—jarring and unwelcome. She clicked Reply and typed:

  “I’m on Little Sister. No cell phone. Do not call the police.”

  She hesitated, her cursor hovering over the Send button. If she didn’t send a reply, things would only escalate. If she did, her life here would change. She knew it. Reluctantly, she tapped the button and got back to work.

  Within an hour, there were more messages—two from her father and one from Susannah. Apparently, they’d been in communication.

  The ones from her father were expected—“What the hell are you doing there? Why would you ever go back to that godforsaken rock?”

  But the lengthy email from Susannah had shaken her—it shouldn’t have, she reminded herself. You knew this was coming.

  Susannah had gone from “let’s make up” to “how could you do this to me?” over the course of her messages. Kathleen could feel the seething build-up, the resentment, as it apparently was sinking in that Kathleen had left and wasn’t coming back.

  “You said you’d never leave me, Kath. You promised we’d be together always, and that you would be there no matter what.”

  Kathleen pushed away from the table. She grabbed a coat and scarf and stormed out the front door, Blossom on her heels. The air, when she inhaled, was like little icicles stabbing her lungs, but the sting felt welcome. She breathed deeply as she walked the path through the woods toward the bluff.

  Knowing that Susannah would sooner or later get to the point of guilting Kathleen about breaking her word didn’t make it any easier to swallow that she had done just that. As she walked, she argued with herself.

  “How many times did she tell you to get out or to go to hell?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I said I’d never leave her.”

  “But you stayed, for fourteen years, through everything—her father, her sister, her caving every time they put pressure on her to come home and leave you behind.”

  She knew she must look crazy, her hands flying about, carrying on both sides of the conversation as she tromped along, but she didn’t care. There was no one else to talk to about this, about the punch-in-the-gut ache in her belly of knowing Susannah’s family hated her and, worse, knowing Susannah would never confront them to acknowledge Kathleen as her partner.

  So preoccupied was she that she didn’t realize there was someone else at the bluff until Blossom gave a low woof. Startled, Kathleen saw Rebecca sitting on a boulder, patting her thigh. Blossom went to her cautiously and allowed her to scratch behind his ears.

  “Hello,” Kathleen said. “Sorry to disturb you. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

  Rebecca swept her free arm toward the sea. “The view’s big enough for three of us. Come sit down.”

  Kathleen sat beside her on the rock, not sure what to say.

  “I come here to pray,” Rebecca offered.

  “You… pray?”

  “There are many entities one can pray to. I pray to the ones that speak to me.” She nodded back down the trail. “You sounded upset.”

  Kathleen felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

  Rebecca smiled. “I talk to myself all the time. Don’t be embarrassed.” When Kathleen didn’t respond, she asked, “How are you adjusting to life here on Little Sister?”

  “It’s been really nice here.” Kathleen kept her gaze focused on the ocean. “Until I got some messages from my father this morning.”

  “Ah.” Rebecca nodded.

  “What? All I said is I got some messages from him, and you sound as if you know what they were.”

  Rebecca looked at her—those eyes so like Molly’s—and gave her a tight-lipped smile. “It isn’t difficult to figure out that Michael isn’t pleased you’re here. I could feel the cloud over you before you got anywhere near the bluff.” She sighed and returned her gaze to the ocean. “I grew up with your father. He wasn’t happy when he lived here. In fact, I’ve never known him to be happy, or even content. And those aren’t the same thing, are they? Never came back except to drop you and your brother off and then pick you up. And after Bryan died, he never came back at all.”

  Kathleen bit her lip, thinking. “I have felt more at home here than I have anywhere since Bryan died. I don’t want to leave.”

  Rebecca turned to her, her mouth open. “Why on earth would you leave?”

  Kathleen flushed under her scrutiny. “I just… It’s always been easier to do what he wants than to argue. No one ever wins an argument with my father.”

  Rebecca scoffed. “I beg to differ. Maybe Michael has gotten used to having his way, but that doesn’t make him right.”

  Kathleen turned back to the vista below them. The knot in her gut eased a little, and she felt her jangled nerves calm.

  “It doesn’t make him right,” she murmured.

  CAP’N JACK WAS ROOSTING, his feathers fluffed against the cold, under the shelter of the boathouse where Molly was planing a new mahogany board to replace a rotted one on the boat’s deck. The whisper of the plane as it shaved paper-thin curls of wood from the edge of the board blended with the soft lapping of the water and the shimmering reflections of the sunlight to create a dreamy, drowsy atmosphere. The gull’s eyes were half-closed.

  She heard voices—her father’s and another that sounded familiar. She set the plane down. Cap’n Jack opened his eyes and watched her as she went to the door of the boathouse and saw Kathleen Halloran talking to her dad inside the marina’s little office. Her father was nodding and writing something down. He said something and gestured toward the boathouse. Molly ducked out of view.

  She went back to where her board was clamped in the workbench and resumed her planing. A moment later, Blossom trotted through the open door. Cap’n Jack spread his wings, but the dog ignored him, coming over to greet Molly.

  The voices drew nearer.

  “Molly?” said her father as he and Kathleen entered the boathouse. “You available to boat over to Big Sister tomorrow?”

  Molly paused her work to glance up. “Why?”

  Kathleen laid a hand on Blossom’s head. “Miranda told me there’s a vet over on Big Sister, and I just talked to your dad about getting over there. They can see him tomorrow.”

  “If you’re busy, I can get one of the boys to take her,” Joe said.

  Molly considered quickly. She was supposed to put a new kitchen faucet and sink in for Wilma and Nels, but that faucet had been dripping for months. It wasn’t an emergency. “I should be able to do that. Just need to make a call.”

  “Good. See you tomorrow then,” Joe said with a nod to Kathleen before he went back to the office.

  “What time do you need to be there?” Molly asked.

  “Early. They’re going to do a check-up and�
�” Kathleen made a snipping motion with her fingers.

  “Oh.” Molly grinned at Blossom, whose tail thumped against the boathouse floor. “Going to get tutored, is he?”

  “They only need to monitor him for the day and said I could pick him up by three.”

  Molly nodded. “We’ll be on the water early and late then. Better dress warm.”

  “I will.” Kathleen glanced around. “I didn’t know you built boats, too.”

  “My dad has always done boat restoration. My brothers and I learned along the way.”

  Kathleen went to the boat, braced on a system of wooden blocks. She ran a hand over the hull. “This wood is so smooth.”

  Molly’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “It is now.” She pointed to the sanding block. “That represents about twenty hours of hand-sanding so far. And a lot of work yet to do.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot of time.”

  “You’ve no business working on wooden boats if you’re impatient.” Molly caressed the wood herself. “You have to coax them along, get the boards to bend without breaking.”

  “Kind of like people, I guess.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  Kathleen locked eyes with her, and Molly realized how blue they were. She broke eye contact. “I think boats are probably more pliable.”

  Kathleen stepped back and slid her hands into her jacket pockets. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Six o’clock.”

  Kathleen nodded and patted her thigh. Blossom led the way as they left the boathouse.

  Cap’n Jack settled again with a ruffling of his feathers. He stared at Molly with his bright, black eyes.

  “What are you looking at?”

  The gull just shook his head and closed his eyes.

  A HARD FROST GREETED Kathleen and Blossom when they stepped out the front door the next morning. She had his new leash coiled in her jacket pocket, along with a hat and gloves. A warm scarf was snugged around her throat, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

  He peed and trotted back up onto the porch to stand at the door, clearly reminding her they needed to go back inside for the breakfast he hadn’t had.