“Hello? Is this your dog?” came a girl’s voice.
Poe and I went downstairs, my knee reminding me that it had recently been separated from the appropriate physiology.
At the kitchen door was a girl with brown hair and a sweet smile. “Hi. Sorry to interrupt. There’s a big dog out here. He’s really friendly. I guess he’s yours?”
She was about Poe’s age, maybe younger, and she had a sweet, round face. A chubby girl, much like my teenage self.
“Hi,” I said. “He’s mine, all right. Boomer, say hello.” I smiled at her, and her smile grew—kind of shocking after two weeks with my niece. “I’m Nora. I’m renting this place, and this my niece, Poe.”
“We know each other,” the girl said. “Hi, Poe.”
Poe grunted.
“I’m Audrey.” The girl stuck out her hand, and I shook it, smiling.
“Do you guys go to school together?” I asked.
“Yes.” Audrey looked at Poe, who was texting. I suppressed a sigh. To the best of my knowledge and observation, Poe didn’t have a single friend here. She came home from school the second it ended and never went out on weekends.
“Come on in,” I said. “What’s your last name?”
“Fletcher.”
“Oh,” I said. “I went to school with Luke and Sullivan. Any relation?”
“Sullivan’s my dad.” She smiled again.
Sully had a kid. Wow. And had her young, apparently.
“He and I used to work together at the Clam Shack,” I said.
“Really? That’s so cool.”
“If you like fried food, it definitely was. And I definitely did.” I smiled. “Do you guys, uh, live around here?”
“No, we live in town,” she said. “But my dad owns the boatyard, so I’m here a lot.”
“And how’s your uncle?” So smooth, milking the kid for information.
“He’s good, I guess.”
“I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t have anything yet. Do you want some water?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay! I just wanted to say hi and make sure this great dog had a person. I love dogs.”
“Poe, did you hear that? She loves dogs, just like you.”
“I hate dogs.”
“Except Boomer, of course,” I said. On cue, Boomer pushed his nose against her hip.
“Are you gonna stay here, too, Poe?” Audrey asked.
“No. I’m not.” Her eyes flickered to me in an unspoken challenge.
“Sometimes she is,” I said. “I hope so, anyway. And you can come over anytime, Audrey.”
“Thanks,” she said, her face lighting up. “This is the coolest place ever, don’t you think?”
“I do! I feel so lucky it was for rent.”
She smiled again. “Well, it was really nice to meet you. See you at school, Poe.”
Poe looked up. “Yeah. See you, Audrey.”
I peeked out the door and watched her walk away (and to make sure she didn’t fall off the dock and drown). “She’s awfully nice.”
Nothing from Poe.
“Don’t you think so?” I prodded.
“She’s fine.”
“Maybe you guys could be—”
“Stop. No matchmaking.”
“I just think it would be nice if you—”
“Nora. Stop moving your lips.”
I felt my eye twitch. “Want to take me to the grocery store, sweetie-pie? I mean Poe?” It occurred to me that I didn’t know if my niece had a middle name.
“Do I have a choice?”
“You know, the Sullen but Beautiful Teenager with Bad Attitude is so 2011. Maybe you could cut me some slack and try not to be such a cliché. I love you, after all. I’m wounded and broken and need help.”
“I said I’d do it.”
Yoga breath, yoga breath. “Thank you. I’ll bake brownies when we get back, okay?”
Thus, bribed by the promise of chocolate, my niece and I went to the market to stock up my perfect little kitchen. It was funny, strolling down the small aisles of Sammy’s...more people knew Poe than me. Once they said hello to her or nodded—being Sharon Stuart’s granddaughter commanded some respect—I caught a couple of them looking at me, recognition dawning, puzzlement coloring their faces. Nora? Really? That fat little nobody who stole Luke Fletcher’s scholarship? The one who put Sully in the hospital?
Thanks to my psych rotation, I knew all about projection and self-fulfilling prophecies. Ever since the day I left Scupper at eighteen, I’d tried to be someone else.
It was harder back here, where memories never died.
* * *
That night, I tried not to let anxiety get the best of me as the sun went down. Boomer was a comfort, sniffing every corner of the houseboat before flopping down in front of the gas fireplace, which I’d turned on. Washed the dishes, which was fun, being in a new place. Read, clicked on the ginormous TV, turned it off again. Then I did a security check, locked the windows—there were so many! Locked the door, then double-checked everything again.
Man, it was quiet. At Mom’s, there was always the sound of Poe’s music, or Mom clicking away on the computer, lost in her spreadsheets. The tapping of the furnace, the place where the floor squeaked in front of the fridge, the hollow sound of the wind in the chimney. Even after fifteen years, I knew those sounds like old friends.
Here, everything was different. The boat moved constantly, a little in every direction, rising with the tide and bigger waves, despite its tight mooring. The water lapped quietly against the hull and rocks of the cove. I caught the distant hum of a boat heading off somewhere... It was lovely, I told myself.
And quiet. After the Big Bad Event, I hated that. I’d listened to podcasts every night, afraid to remember what had happened. Even lying there with Bobby’s arm around me, I needed something to fill my head.
But here, if I did that, I might not hear someone coming.
Boomer would protect me.
Also, I had a pistol. Did I not mention that? Yep. Just in case. And yes, I knew how to use it. It was the first thing I’d unpacked (out of sight of Poe). Just the thought of it, in my night table drawer, made me feel a little bit better.
Pretty soon, I’d have to go to bed. My mouth dried up at the thought.
A knock, and I screamed. Boomer scrambled up, woofing hysterically.
Someone was here. But someone was knocking, so that was... It was probably Mom. Or Poe. Through the window, I could see it was a man, and fear crashed over me, my bladder loosening...but then in the next instant, I saw it was Sullivan Fletcher.
Who was probably not a rapist. Who I’d known all my life. Whose daughter had visited me today.
Heart still flopping and shuddering, I went to the door and opened it. “Hi,” I said, my voice squeaking.
“Hey,” he said. “My daughter told me you moved in here.”
“Yeah. I did. Um...” Should I invite him in? I mean, sure, he had a kid who seemed nice, but a lot of years had passed. Did I really know anything about him anymore? Also, people (maybe himself included) felt like I was responsible for his long hospitalization. Then again, he’d recovered.
We were alone out here. Except for Boomer, no one would hear me if I needed help.
But I was brave and had survived all sorts of creepy, life-threatening shit. I was done being afraid (or so I told myself). New leaf, blah, blah, blah.