Emma Goldrick - The Unmarried Bride

‘My son and I have been on the island for three weeks,’ the man retorted. ‘We went over to Hyannis to do some shopping and sightseeing. I have a lease on this island and this house for six weeks, ending on September fifteenth.’

‘I don’t see how that’s possible,’ Abby said. ‘We’ve got three weeks until September fifteenth and I certainly haven’t signed any lease with you. I don’t intend to wait that long to be rid of you, either. You’d just better pack and leave. You can take the boat you came over in from Hyannis today and go back to the mainland. And while you’re there maybe you should just sit down and check your so-called lease.’

‘I don’t have a boat. We hired someone to drop us off here and I’ve hired him to come again in three weeks on the fifteenth to pick us up. I don’t need to check the lease,’ he snapped. ‘It’s all legal and above-board. I made sure of that before I signed it.’

‘My dad’s a—’

‘Harry, shut up!’

The boy clapped his hands over his mouth. ‘We ain’t s’posed to tell,’ he added in a little whisper.

‘I’m a lawyer. I’ve already checked the lease.’

‘I can see that you must have.’ Abby restrained a grin. It was fun to be talking to this—lawyer. ‘And who signed the lease?’

‘Miss Spencer,’ he said, and then sat up and looked at her suspiciously. ‘Miss Abigail Spencer?’

‘Did Miss Spencer sign it? A.L. Spencer?’ He nodded. ‘Was she a little old lady? White hair, a little thin on top? Stands about five feet three? Looks like a chipper little bluebird?’

‘Exactly. What are you trying to tell me?’

‘Nothing particularly important,’ Abby said, teasing him along. ‘As it happens, I’m the only Abigail in the Spencer family. You’re talking about my great-aunt Amaryllis Letitia. Too bad. Aunt Letty loves to play the horses. I suspect she and your money are already down in Florida, or wherever the ponies are running these days.’

‘Then you’re the one that—’

‘Inherited this place, lock, stock and barrel,’ Abby said. ‘My house, my island—’

‘An’ don’t forget the treasure,’ the boy said. ‘There’s a big treasure here, ain’t there?’

‘I haven’t any idea if there is any treasure. My uncle used to say there was but he wasn’t willing to let anyone come and dig for it. “ My treasure”, Uncle Teddy used to say—’ A dull sound in the background interrupted her; the windows rattled in their frames. ‘He was a peculiar fellow, my uncle. But he left this island to me.’ Abby got up and went to the window. ‘Look, it’s getting pretty late, and from the looks of things there’s a storm brewing out there. Hadn’t you two better start thinking of how to be on your way?’

‘On our way hell,’ the man said. ‘You—at least your family—owes me three more weeks of living on this island, and I mean to have it.’

‘Sue me,’ Abby prompted.

‘I will,’ he returned. ‘We’re not leaving this island until our lease is up.’ A crash of thunder sounded from outside. Abby walked back to the window and pulled back the drapes. Low dark clouds were racing across the sky, bending the few island trees before them.

‘Looks like a north-easter,’ Abby commented as she dropped the drapes. ‘I wouldn’t put a dog out on a night like this. You can spend the night. Lord knows we have plenty of rooms. Tomorrow we’ll talk it over like sensible adults, and see what we can see.’

‘My boat isn’t coming back until September fifteenth,’ he reiterated. ‘We’re staying at least that long.’

‘I can take you back to the mainland tomorrow. I have a little runabout. And don’t shout at me. I don’t happen to be a lawyer, but I do know my rights.’ She dropped on to the old-fashioned ottoman and regretted it immediately. The thing seemed to have been stuffed with horsehair.

The boy squirmed around, a cherub smile on his full-fleshed face. ‘That oughta be fun,’ he chortled. ‘Do you own that little white boat with the yellow stripe on it?’

‘Why did you ask?’ Abby pulled herself up to her feet. ‘What is it about that little white boat with the yellow stripe that makes you so happy?’

‘Well, whoever left it in the cove didn’t tie it up very well. When I seen it half an hour ago it was drifting out in the channel.’

‘Drifting?’ Abby liked nothing better than a calm, peaceful life. Boats didn’t drift, not when they were the only means of getting off Umatec Island. Strange men didn’t appear out of the storm and declare themselves to be fictional characters. Women like me—all twenty-nine years of me—don’t find themselves marooned on a deserted island with a little boy and a pirate, she told herself.

Harry’s father looked down at him with a very suspicious look in his eyes. ‘The boat just drifted away?’

‘Well, it certainly got loose. The rope came all apart and it just drifted away.’

Abby looked at them both. ‘I tie my lines with good knots,’ she said. ‘The knot didn’t come out by itself.’

‘Harry,’ his father said accusingly. The little boy blushed and stubbed his toe on the floor.

‘Well, I just had to see what it was, you know. It had a engine and it was floating nice and I thought I could get in and maybe take a little ride. And—’

‘And what?’ his father asked in the tone used in a courtroom to ask the accused when he had stopped beating his wife.

Abby winced in sympathy. There seemed to be very little compassion in that voice and Harry looked as if he needed very large doses of compassion and love on a daily basis. Even an amateur like Abby could tell that this little boy was on an emotional see-saw. He smiled and laughed and then was so serious and so angry. He bounced emotionally and it was very erratic. She didn’t think that Selby Farnsworth, no matter how good-looking, was the ideal person to deal with Harry’s problems.

‘The motor wouldn’t start,’ the boy replied firmly. ‘I untied the knot and the darn motor wouldn’t start. It’s all your fault, lady. It’s not fair, keepin’ a boat when the motor don’t start. There’s laws against that!’

The anger which had sparked his father’s face faded into a grin. ‘There probably is a law,’ he conceded. ‘Lord knows there seem to be more laws than people nowadays. So what did you do next?’

Zeus, Abby told herself. Sitting up there on Mount Olympus ready to cast a thunderbolt or two? Her eyes studied his face. Burned by the outdoor sun, smooth skin sporting a Roman nose, and a—dear God—a scar just under his left eye!

‘I—uh—just climbed over the side and swam back to shore,’ the boy said. ‘It was all because of that darn motor. It wouldn’t start. It ain’t my fault.’

‘Oh, boy,’ his father said. ‘It’s been a whole week of “one of those days”.’

Abby looked at both of them and swallowed her tongue. Out of the corner of her eye she just happened to see the look on the elder Farnsworth’s face. Glee? Anticipation? Satisfaction?

‘Well, Miss Spencer,’ he said. ‘That just about wraps it up, doesn’t it? None of us can leave without a boat. Your boat’s probably down off Cutty Hunk by now, and ours won’t be back for another three weeks or more. So, unless you’ve got some magic signal to summon help, I guess we’re all stuck here together, right?’

‘Now just a darn minute,’ Abigail Spencer said firmly. ‘Let’s not get carried away here. I’ve agreed that you can stay overnight. After that, well—’

The grin vanished from his face, to be replaced by a predatory look. His teeth gleamed in the soft light of the room. He’s looking for a place to bite, Abby told herself as she squirmed back in her chair, as far away from him as she could get.