Barbara Phinney - Deadly Homecoming

Her pastor often said that to allow someone to minister to you was as good as ministering to others. Accepting help was a part of glorifying God.

Who felt rather far away right now.

Inside the house, she glanced around. Spartan, almost, with little furniture. Next to the dining room table stood a desk, on which a laptop sat closed, and papers lay scattered in an arc around it. In a far corner was a large metal detector. Beachcombing, to de-stress, or was it for something else? Beyond was the living room, also sparsely furnished with just a couch, a chair and a side table.

After starting a pot of coffee, Lawson set everything needed for sandwiches on the dining room table. Peta, hungrier than she realized, made herself a large sandwich. They ate in silence, the only sound the coffee as it percolated and dripped into its pot.

“You know I’m going to ask why everyone on this island hates you,” he said mildly after finishing half his sandwich.

“What happened to Christian discretion?”

He smiled briefly. “Did I show any of that at the café?”

True, he didn’t. She eyed him cautiously. Then, knowing he may as well learn the truth from her, she began.

“I was the bad kid growing up,” she started. “My parents split early on, and I went to live with my mother, but I was young and unruly, and she couldn’t handle me. By the time I was six, my mother had dumped me back on the island with her older sister.”

“You were born here?”

She nodded. “As was my mother, right in the clinic beside the B & B. In fact, the lady who owns the inn is my oldest aunt, Aunt Kathleen. But blood isn’t always thicker than water when you’re a troublemaker and a financial burden.”

“Children are never a burden.”

That was nice to hear, but he didn’t know the whole story. “I came back to live with Aunt Linda, who never married and I know why. She was cold and nasty and told everyone that she only kept me because my mother paid her. So I grew up knowing that I wasn’t loved.” She tilted her head slightly at his own cautious expression. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I can’t believe that your whole childhood was miserable.”

“There were some okay moments. I hung out with Danny, and we had fun at first. But he was wild, too, and I was mad at everyone. So we ended up becoming the island’s troublemakers. If anyone criticized us, we’d do our best to get back at them. My aunt would punish me, and I’d fight back. One day, the Family Services—that’s what I think it was called back then—came to talk to her, but she said she wasn’t going to let me go, because I meant too much to her.”

“So she did care for you.”

Peta laughed and shook her head. “Not quite. I heard her telling Aunt Kathleen afterward that she’d just said that because she’d asked my mother for more money, and my mother had agreed.”

Lawson took a sip from his mug, a slight frown pressing his brows together. He looked comforting sitting there, his dark blue shirt open at the neck, and the sleeves rolled up to just below the elbows. Like someone she could trust.

She cleared her throat. “In all fairness, I wasn’t the easiest kid to raise. I defied everyone. I set fires to brush, I vandalized buildings, and did tons of rotten stuff. Even to Danny.”

Lawson’s hand froze as he was setting down his mug. “Wasn’t he your friend?”

“Kids aren’t always nice, Lawson. I did stupid things.”

“Like what?”

She looked away. Should she even be mentioning this? Would it affect her defense, if she needed one? Would Lawson go straight to the police with what she was about to say? For the first time, she thought about getting a lawyer. Why hadn’t she considered that before now?

She sighed. “I went over on the mainland for the weekend once when I was sixteen. Danny followed me and we headed into Saint John for the evening. Being a port city, we figured we’d see some action. I’d met some kids there the year before when Aunt Linda went to a funeral and I had to spend time with my mom. I dragged Danny down to their place, and introduced them to him. He was looking for a job by then, and this older guy was there and just happened to be looking for someone to work for him.”

“What kind of work?”

Wetting her lips, she set down her sandwich. “Selling drugs, doing odd jobs, scaring people who didn’t pay what they owed him. Stuff like that. Danny was husky enough for the work.” It hurt to admit, even after all these years, that she’d been the one who had gotten Danny mixed up with drug dealers.

“Drugs?” Lawson straightened. “You should tell the police that. It could be important to the investigation.”

She shrugged. “It was a long time ago, and Danny said he’d quit working for Gary. It was my fault, really. I had introduced the two.”

“Gary?” Lawson’s word was tight.

“Yes. Gary Marcano. I wish I’d never met him. Danny changed after he started working for him. He got cocky and ruder, and had too much money.”

She looked around at the sparse surroundings. “A year and a half later, Aunt Linda died and willed everything to Aunt Kathleen. I was left with nothing, so I just left. The islanders were glad to see me go.”

She stood, scraping the chair along the hardwood floor. All of a sudden, she hated that she’d told her sorry story to someone who was practically a perfect stranger, as much as she hated that the old fear of being abandoned could still grip her. “I should leave. Thanks for the food. I appreciate it.”

He rose. “Let me take you home.”

“No. I can walk. It’s still light out and I need the exercise. I’ll be fine, really.”

He tilted his head, gauging, she was sure, if she was really okay. “You’ve been through a lot today.”

Finding her old boyfriend dead, being accused of his murder and then being shunned by everyone? Oh, yeah, she’d been through a lot today. “That’s why I need to walk.” She grabbed the grocery bag with the foodstuffs he’d put together, and stuck out her hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

Lawson’s warm fingers wrapped around her small, cold hand. A comforting gesture. For the briefest moment, she wouldn’t have minded a hug from this man. Anything to remind her that she was…lovable.

Something that her Lord couldn’t provide for her right now.

She shook away the folly and yanked back her hand. She wasn’t there for any comfort. And a stranger, however handsome and helpful, wasn’t going to be her lifeline. Certainly not if he lived on this island.

The only sign of life on her way to the cottage was a couple of children coloring the sidewalk outside their home with sturdy sticks of chalk. They watched her with keen interest as she stepped onto the road so as not to disturb their masterpiece.

Beyond the clinic, the road bent right and headed past the church. Her driveway plunged into the trees at a narrow lane on the left. The land around the old lighthouse and its replacement was kept clear, but at the perimeter, thick trees cloaked the lane’s entrance.

Daylight was fading behind some distant clouds, so Peta quickened her step, knowing she hadn’t left any lights on in the cottage and not wanting to be near the edge of the cliffs at dark. She heard a soft, rustling noise to her right, and quickened her pace. Another stupid cat, no doubt trying to freak her out.

Sea and salt caught on her tongue, telling her she was near the cliff, and that the wind had picked up. The drive in here this afternoon had been breathtaking, literally, with the road skimming too perilously close to the cliff.

But now the way felt damp and lonely and her heart tripped up several beats. She hefted up her groceries. Don’t look down. Don’t look at the edge of the cliff.