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“I’m sorry, Mr. Dawes, this is my niece, Faith Cutter. Faith, this is Mr. Dawes.”
“Aw, it’s just plain Rudy.” He smiled at Faith, revealing a gold-capped front tooth. “Jacob said you wouldn’t be here until mid-July. And he shoulda warned you we don’t pack away our winter coats until then.”
Sam glanced at Faith and noticed she was shivering. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the warmth of his flannel-lined denim jacket. Instead of pulling away, as he half expected her to, she tunneled in farther. For a split second, she was six years old again, snuggled up against him with a copy of Dr. Seuss’s One Fish, Two Fish book in one hand and a raggedy stuffed rabbit named Mr. Carrots in the other.
“Dad said the boat was available whenever I wanted to use it,” Sam said distractedly. “June…worked out better for us.”
“Doesn’t matter to me none. I just keep an eye on it for him. Go on now. Get acquainted with her.”
Faith skipped down the skeletal wooden staircase that spiraled to the water. Sam was tempted to yell at her to slow down and grab the railing, but one look at it made his back teeth snap together. It was probably safer not to use it.
By the time Sam hopped on board, Faith had already disappeared below deck. From his dad’s description of the boat, Sam thought he’d be in a luxury cabin cruiser for the next few weeks. Now he simply hoped it was watertight.
“Sam!” Faith’s muffled voice sounded more excited than it had in months. “You’ve got to see this!”
He ducked into the narrow stairwell and found her standing in the doorway of one of the cabins.
“Can I take this one?”
Sam peered in cautiously. A narrow bunk bed, a corner desk and a small table were the only furnishings in it, but even though they were old, everything was spotless. He exhaled slowly in relief.
“Sure. The desk will come in handy.”
Faith rolled her eyes in typical twelve-year-old fashion. “You had to remind me.”
“That was the deal. Your mom let you come with me if you kept up with your homework.”
“Mom would have let me come anyway.” Faith lifted her chin defiantly, but he could hear the tremor in her voice. “I heard her. She told you that I’ve been ‘too much’ for her lately.”
Sam closed his eyes. He had no idea that Faith had overheard his last conversation with Rachel. “Faith, it’s not you. Your mom…Things have been hard for her the past few months.”
“Well, here’s a news flash.” Faith’s eyes narrowed and suddenly she looked years older. “Things haven’t been easy for me, either….”
Her voice choked on the word and Sam pulled her against him. He wasn’t sure what he could say to comfort her. Not when he hadn’t discovered anything to fill in the fissures in his own heart.
“I miss him.” Faith clung to him.
The knot of sadness forming in Sam’s throat strained for release, but he kept a tight rein on it.
“I miss him, too.”
“I thought you were only staying two weeks, Evangeline.”
Evie saw the mischievous gleam in her dad’s eyes and handed him another duffel bag from the trunk of her car. Patrick was the only person who called her by her full name, a gift from her parents to her paternal grandmother, the first Evangeline McBride, when she was born. “A person can’t be too prepared.”
“But what is it you’re preparing for, sweetheart? A tidal wave? Or maybe an asteroid?” Patrick peered in the car window at the flats of tomato plants lined up across the backseat.
Evie was used to her dad’s teasing. “Don’t be silly.” She handed him a large sewing basket embroidered with strawberries. And a stadium umbrella. “We’d have plenty of time to get ready if one of those things was going to occur. This stuff is just for…every day.”
Her dad frowned as she handed him a bag of groceries. “There is a grocery store in Cooper’s Landing.”
“Do I need to mention that the expiration date on the can of corn I bought last summer coincided with the Reagan administration?”
Patrick winked at her. “You love it here.”
He was right, but Evie wasn’t about to admit that to Caitlin and Meghan.
A week after school had officially closed for summer vacation she’d packed up her car, locked up the house and driven away with her traveling companions—the box of books on the passenger seat beside her.
The closer she’d gotten to the adorable stone cottage her dad now called home, the more excited she’d been. When Patrick left on his fishing trip, Evie knew she’d be perfectly content just to stretch out on the wicker chaise lounge in the backyard and admire the lake from a distance. She loved watching Lake Superior change from steel-gray to vivid blue, depending on its mood. And Superior was a moody lake. The proof was in the hundreds of ships that slept below her ice-cold surface.
Evie leaned close and kissed her dad’s bristly cheek. “You forgot to shave again this morning.”
“I didn’t forget,” Patrick grumbled. “I’m retired. A man shouldn’t have to shave when he’s retired.”
Evie looped the strap of a canvas messenger bag over her shoulder and headed toward the house. “Did you and your friend finally decide when you’re leaving?”
“Day after tomorrow. Jacob’s picking me up at five in the morning. And—” Patrick put up his hand to prevent her from saying what he knew was going to come next “—you don’t have to get up and make oatmeal for me. The reason we’re leaving so early is because it’s a long drive to the lodge, and then we have to get to our campsite.”
“Why don’t you just stay at the lodge?” They’d had this conversation several times already, but Evie thought it worth repeating. Until she got her way. Patrick was only fifty-nine, but she didn’t understand why he’d turned down a soft bed in the main lodge for a tent on a secluded island several miles away.
“Jacob’s been camping for years,” Patrick said. “He’ll take care of me.”
Evie snorted. “From what you’ve told me about Jacob Cutter, he’s a daredevil. I don’t want him to talk you into anything stupid. Or dangerous.”
“You’ve been teaching the peer-pressure curriculum again, haven’t you?”
Evie gave a weak laugh. “I’m sorry, Dad, it’s just that I want you to be careful.”
“Careful is my middle name.”
“Stubborn is your middle name,” she muttered under her breath.
The sound of tires crunching over gravel drew their attention to the vehicle creeping up the long driveway.
“Looks like you’ve got some customers,” Evie said, watching a black pickup truck rattle into view.
“Maybe they’re lost.” Patrick grinned. “But I’ll still try to talk them into buying a pair of seagull salt-and-pepper shakers.”
Evie laughed. Beach Glass didn’t have a single kitschy item like the ones he’d just described. Her dad spent the winter months combing estate sales to find rare objects—the ones that escorted his customers down memory lane. Patrick had told her more than once that everyone needed a connecting point to their past. Sometimes it was a book they remembered reading as a child or the exact twin of the pitcher their grandmother had used to pour maple syrup on their pancakes when they were growing up. Beach Glass was off the beaten path, but people still managed to find it. And when they left, it was usually as the owner of some small treasure.
“Just put that stuff by the door, Dad, and I’ll take care of it in a few minutes.” Evie couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder at the truck idling in the tiny parking lot next to the antique shop. The tinted windows obscured the inside cab from view. She hesitated a moment but whoever was driving the pickup wasn’t in a hurry to get out.
She went inside and finished unpacking her clothes, glad she’d tossed in a few sweaters. A person could never be too prepared and the breeze off the lake still had a bite.
When she peeked outside half an hour later, the truck was gone. She poured two iced coffees and headed across the yard to the shop. More than half the furnishings in her own home were compliments of Beach Glass, and she was eager to see the latest bounty her father had added since her last visit.
“What do you mean he’s staying on the boat?”
Evie paused at the sound of Patrick’s agitated voice through the screen door.
“Well, that’s just one of our problems….” His voice lowered, ebbing away like the tide, and then strengthened again. “He stopped by a little while ago, insisting we bring him along. No, I don’t trust him any more than you do, Jacob…but Sophie—”
Evie realized she was holding her breath. She’d never heard her dad sound so stressed.
“I suppose we can delay the trip but I’m afraid if we don’t go as planned, Sophie is going to get…No, go ahead. Evie might be on her way over. I’ll talk to you later this evening.”
It suddenly occurred to Evie that she was eavesdropping. She backed away from the door, replaying the part of the conversation she’d overheard.
The elusive Sophie Graham again.
Evie had never seen the woman, even during the reconnaissance mission Caitlin had tried to set up the previous summer. In the interest of maintaining sibling harmony, Evie had dropped a few subtle hints to her dad that she’d like to meet Sophie sometime, but all she could get out of him was that the mysterious Sophie wasn’t in good health.
“Evie?”
She froze midstep.
Her dad may have been a bit forgetful but apparently there was nothing wrong with his hearing.
Evie winced and caught her lower lip between her teeth. All the times she’d preached to her students that honesty was the best policy came rushing back. She pressed the glasses against her cheeks to put out the fire in them. The downside of having red hair and fair skin. She couldn’t hide a blush to save her life.
“I brought you a reward for working so hard,” she called through the screen door.
Patrick appeared on the other side and Evie could see the furrows in his forehead, as deep as stress cracks in a wall.
“So, did you sell some of those salt shakers?” Evie asked, deliberately keeping her voice cheerful to cover up the guilt nipping at her conscience.
Patrick’s mouth tightened. “No. He wasn’t interested in buying anything.”
“Who—”
“Let’s take this out to the garden, shall we? You can enjoy the fruit of last summer’s labor while you take a break. Some of the plants are already coming up, and it’s going to be beautiful.”
Evie handed him one of the glasses and saw his fingers tremble as he reached for it. Worry scoured the lining of her stomach.
“Dad, is everything all right?” She tried to piece together the fragments of the conversation she’d overheard. It had sounded like someone else wanted to come along on the fishing trip. But why would that upset him? And what did Sophie Graham have to do with it?
“Right as rain.”
“There’s nothing right about rain unless you have an umbrella,” Evie said promptly. It was an old joke between them, and she relaxed when he smiled.
Maybe her concern over the fishing trip was making her read more into the conversation she’d overheard. It was possible her father was simply a little uptight because he was taking a vacation for the first time in—Evie did a quick calculation—twelve years. Not since the year her mother was killed.
Chapter Two
Evie had her alarm set for five-thirty. Not to make sure Patrick ate his oatmeal but to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Else.
She pulled on her robe and slipped into the kitchen, only to discover her sneaky father had already left. The coffee was on and he’d left a note taped to the refrigerator.
I’ll call you as soon as I can. Relax. Love, Dad.
Evie snatched the note off the fridge and frowned. The faint smell of bacon and eggs lingered in the air. No wonder he hadn’t wanted her to get up before he left. He’d wanted to eat his artery-clogging breakfast without a witness.
And what exactly did he mean by relax? Was she supposed to relax because she was on summer vacation? Or was she supposed to relax while knowing her dad, who thought one pair of socks per day was sufficient, was going on a two-week fishing trip with Jacob Cutter? A former Marine. The two men had known each other only six months, and already Jacob was pushing Patrick out of his familiar routine. Evie didn’t like Jacob Cutter. Her dad was a scholar, not an outdoorsman. A retired high school English teacher. What was Jacob thinking?
Her doubts about the trip had increased the evening before while Patrick packed his things. Evie had noticed an important piece of equipment missing from the gear piled by the door. When she’d called his attention to it, Patrick had laughed self-consciously and disappeared outside to rummage around in one of the outbuildings, finally returning with a fishing pole.
Shortly after watching her dad hook his thumb on one of the lures, Evie had had a burst of inspiration. She could go with them. As the cook. Keeper of the campfire. That sort of thing. When she’d brought it up to Patrick, he’d looked less than enthusiastic. In fact, he’d looked slightly offended and had reminded her that the reservations were for two people and they couldn’t add someone else this late in the game. Which meant the owner of the black pickup truck who’d tried to coerce Patrick and Jacob into taking him along wasn’t going, either.
No wonder Patrick had run out on her so early in the morning. Maybe he’d thought she’d stow away in the backseat.
Too bad she hadn’t thought of that sooner.
If only her dad would have mentioned the fishing trip to her before he’d brought it up to Caitlin and Meghan, who’d both thought it was a great idea. Of course. They always had their passports ready to go at a moment’s notice.
“Dad never does anything.” Meghan had listened to her concerns and gently brushed them aside. “He loves to go to auctions and estate sales and putter in the store, but maybe he’s decided he needs to expand his interests. You know, find a new hobby.”
Caitlin, as usual, had been more direct. “Don’t be such a worrywart, Evie. Dad wants to go fishing, not skydiving. If you see a parachute in the trunk of his car instead of a fishing pole, call me.”
It was easy for her sisters to live their own lives and let their dad live his. Both of them had already moved away from home when Laura McBride had died unexpectedly. Meghan had been a freshman in an out-of-state college, and Caitlin a graduate student in France for a semester abroad. Evie had just turned fourteen and she’d been the only one left to take care of Patrick.
Lord, you’ll take care of Dad, won’t you? Keep him safe and comfortable, just like I would if I were with him? Don’t let that reckless Jacob Cutter try to talk him into doing anything dangerous. And help him remember to change his socks if they get wet.
Patrick had always encouraged her to talk to God, her heavenly Father, as easily and naturally as she talked to him. Some people might think she was crazy to talk to God about wet socks, but Evie figured if God knew when a sparrow fell to the ground, He cared about the details of His children’s lives, too. No matter how small.
She opened her eyes, ready to start the day right. Beach Glass officially opened at ten o’clock, giving her time to weed the garden and go into town to pick up a gallon of milk and some eggs.
She’d just make sure to check the expiration date before she bought them.
Cooper’s Landing was five miles from the antique shop, yet Patrick thought nothing of hopping on a rickety old bicycle and riding it into town. Evie kicked the tire with her toe, and when it wobbled back and forth like a toddler taking those first precious steps, she decided to drive her car instead.
Johnson’s Market stuck to the basics—not bothering to cater to the tourists who used Cooper’s Landing as a brief resting point to fill up their vehicles and stretch their legs a bit.
The sandy stretch of beach, strewn with sculptures of satin-smooth driftwood, drew Evie’s attention when she stepped outside the store with her purchases. Ever since Patrick had moved to what Caitlin referred to as “the end of nowhere,” Evie had been fascinated by Lake Superior. She’d grown up in a suburb of Milwaukee, where the only connection she’d had with water was the local swimming pool. But here, right in front of her eyes, the lake stretched across the horizon in variegated shades of blue. And even though today the water was a comforting shade of indigo, it could change with a turn of the wind.
A glance at her watch told her there was time for a short walk down to the dock. She tucked her groceries into the backseat of her car and headed toward the water. Picking her way down the rocky bank, Evie vaulted over a small ledge of rock and practically fell on top of someone.
“Hey!” A girl rose up from a crouched position. “What do you think you’re…Oh, sorry.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Evie apologized. “I was staring at the water and didn’t see you.”
“That’s okay.” The words came out grudgingly.
She looked to be in the same age range as Evie’s students, so Evie knew better than to take the edge in her tone personally. The girl hugged a sketchbook against her chest, and a metal case on the ground by her feet revealed a rainbow of oil pastels.
“You’re drawing the lake? Or the boat?”
“The lake. The boat’s kind of ugly.”
