Christy Barritt - Desperate Measures

He kept reminding himself to mind his own business. But minding his own business wouldn’t help keep anyone safe.

Just then, Lulu appeared down the sandy walkway leading to the cabins, a large dog pulling her along.

His dog.

Rusty was a rowdy Australian Shepherd he’d found wandering outside his house three months ago. The dog hadn’t gone away, so eventually John had adopted him. Now it followed him everywhere, perhaps as his eternal way of saying thanks.

John liked to grumble about the dog, but he had to admit that Rusty had become a faithful companion. Lulu was the island’s local groomer, and John had dropped Rusty off with her this morning after she’d promised a free first visit.

“Hello, there!” Lulu called. Lulu was a heavyset woman with orange hair and too much makeup. But she was a friendly soul.

Rusty broke free from the leash and stampeded over to jump on John. The dog’s tail wagged and he continued to jump, sixty-five pounds of hyper joy. John grabbed the leash before the dog greeted Samantha and Connor with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

“A dog!” Connor exclaimed.

Connor giggled in delight when Rusty began licking his face. A moment later, Connor and Rusty took off running down the shoreline together. John thanked Lulu, who looked exhausted, and then turned back to Samantha.

“You’ve just made a friend,” Samantha mumbled. “Connor has wanted a dog forever.”

“Rusty’s been wanting a little boy to call his person for a long time, too, so they should get along just fine.”

John finished cooking, and when Connor came to join them, something nearly impossible happened. Rusty followed him and stayed at Connor’s feet. The canine didn’t run off or even look longingly down the shoreline in search of seagulls or other critters.

Traitor.

They all sat down at a weathered picnic table in front of John’s cabin. He’d thrown an old sheet over the benches, hoping no one would get a splinter. Funny how he hadn’t given that a second thought up until a few hours ago.

“What’s there to do around here?” Connor asked, taking a bite of his burger. John had cooked a couple, just in case Connor didn’t like flounder.

John looked at the water. “Go to the beach, fish, crab.”

“That sounds boring. Well, maybe not the beach. Not if I have a boogie board. Do you have a boogie board I could borrow?”

“I might be able to scrounge one up for you. But have you ever tried fishing?” John took a sip of his soda, amused by the boy’s expressive face.

He shook his head.

“Well, I’ll show you sometime.” Great, he was making promises. That was something he’d vowed not to do. He didn’t want anyone depending on him, especially not Samantha.

“Can I put the worm on the hook?” The boy’s eyes were wide with excitement.

John glanced at Samantha. A halfway amused expression feathered across her face.

“Do you want to put the worm on the hook?” John asked.

Connor nodded, mustard from his burger slathered across his top lip. He didn’t seem to notice—or care. “I do.”

“Then definitely.”

“What else is there to do?”

John looked off in the distance again. Those weren’t questions he’d thought about. He’d only been focused on his cabins. “Some boys in town like to play kickball. You ever played?”

“No, I just do karate.”

“Well, maybe you can teach them some karate, and they’ll invite you to their kickball games. How does that sound?”

He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

John looked over at Samantha to see how she was taking their conversation. At the moment, she appeared distracted. Her gaze constantly scanned the area around them. Any of the earlier amusement was gone.

He stared at that bruise on her jaw. John had a feeling it wasn’t from an accident—a fall or car crash or walking into a wall. He also noticed her hand reaching for the side of her rib cage when she thought no one was looking. The woman had been beaten up. The thought caused anger to surge in him.

Samantha must have noticed him staring because her hand went to her jaw.

Connor jumped in. “She fell in the grocery store parking lot.”

A rigid, quick smile fluttered over her face. “I’m kind of clumsy.”

“Why do I have a feeling there’s more to the story?” he asked.

Her face tensed. “Nothing more, and nothing that you should concern yourself about.”

He didn’t question her, even though curiosity burned inside. Everything about the woman was mysterious...and slightly suspicious.

The rest of the conversation revolved around what needed to be done on the cabins, where to get groceries, and what to expect during tourist season.

When everyone finished eating, Samantha started to help him clean up, but the sound of a boat puttering in the distance interrupted them. He looked up to see a Bayrunner creeping up to his pier, a man waving from the bow.

He approached the man, noting how Samantha stayed back. Still, he could feel her wide eyes on him, watching everything that happened.

“You the owner of this place?” the man on the boat asked. The man appeared to be in his mid-forties and had the look of someone who spent a lot of time in the sun. His skin was so tanned that the wrinkles around his eyes remained paler than the rest of his face. He had longish blond hair, that was swept away from his face.

John nodded. “I am.”

“I’m Kent Adams, a real estate agent from Richmond. I’ve been trying to find you for the past month.” The sunset blurred behind him.

“Why would you want to find me?” John placed his hands to his hips, his guard going up.

“I have a buyer who’s interested in your land. He’s willing to pay handsomely for this piece of property. He said it’s perfect for his retirement home.”

“But this land isn’t for sale.”

“We were hoping we could change your mind. We’re talking an amount where you wouldn’t ever have to worry about money again. You could quit your day job, find another nice little plot of land, and enjoy yourself.”

“I’m not interested. Thanks for the offer.” He started to walk away when the man called him back. John paused.

“Take my card in case you change your mind.” The man extended his hand, a piece of cardstock at the end. “Maybe talk to your pretty wife about it first.” He nodded behind him at Samantha.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“At least hold on to this, just in case.”

Against his better instincts, John backtracked and took the man’s business card. He didn’t plan on using it. No, the cabins were his. He had plans for them—plans that didn’t include becoming rich, but becoming whole and healed.

Samantha’s gaze looked fragile when he returned. Her arms were crossed, her eyes focused on the boat puttering away in the distance. Meanwhile, Connor was talking to Rusty who had nothing but attention for the boy.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

John shoved the card in his pocket. “Someone inquiring about the land.”

“Is that odd?”

Her question was odd, but he didn’t mention that. “Maybe a little. It’s like Murphy’s Law, though, isn’t it? This property has been abandoned for years with no interest. As soon as I snatch it up, someone else decides they want it.”

“Life is funny sometimes.” She nodded back to her cabin. “I should get going. I need to get rested up for a full day of work tomorrow.”

“Anything you need from me?”

She shook her head. “No, we’ll manage with what we’ve got.”

With that, she called Connor over and started back to her cabin.

Just what was that woman’s story?

He probably shouldn’t dig too deeply, he reasoned.