The Sweetest Summer: A Bayberry Island Novel

  Just then he saw her off in the distance. He wanted to ask her to the Mermaid Ball. A real date. But he was scared shitless. Why? Because he was crazy about her, and if she said no, it would crush him. He might not live through it.

  Man, this love thing was hard.

  But why her? Why was it suddenly this girl that made him light up? One thing was probably the delicate way she touched him—the same way she’d touched the wind chime—like he was one in a million. Like he was priceless. And her kisses were sweet but they meant business. He lived for that first brush of her lips against his, and then the rush he felt when things got wild. He could tell she was really into it, but was holding back because she didn’t want to look like she was a bad girl.

  God, that was hot.

  Sometimes, Clancy wondered what would happen between the two of them if the situation were different—no parents, no curfews, no siblings, and hours of privacy. Nuclear meltdown, probably. They’d generate enough heat to melt the beaches into glass.

  Damn. He needed to stop his imagination from heading in that direction. It only tortured him, because he knew it was true—he would do it with Evie in a heartbeat if he thought she was cool with it and they wouldn’t get caught.

  Evie waved to him. He waved back, groaning in frustration. Why did the world make it almost impossible for teenagers to experiment with sex? At least on Bayberry Island, anyway? He couldn’t believe that news of their hot beach make-out session got back to his mom. She was sort of chill about it, asking him if he needed his dad to buy him protection. But oh my God—Clancy would rather die than have to talk about the details of his sex life with either of his parents ever again. Just shoot me now.

  Evie was perched on the boardwalk railing, near the public boat dock office. She wore a pair of dark blue nylon running shorts that showed off her long and lightly tanned legs, a sports bra running top, and had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, like the first day he’d met her. She waited for him, watching as he approached her. As soon as he got close, she widened her legs so he could stand between them. He kissed her.

  Uh-oh. Since he wasn’t packin’ a wind chime that day, he needed to back away a bit.

  “Hey, Clancy.”

  “Hey, Evie. Ready to run?”

  “If you’re sure you can keep up with me.”

  “Well, baby, if anyone could get the better of me, it would be you.”

  They helped each other stretch out. Clancy tried his best not to stare at her butt and thighs and hips, but failed. Once they started out, they wound their way through the alleys to the beach path, headed down to the hard-packed sand.

  “It’s exactly two-point-six miles until it becomes private property. So I figured we’d go the length, then run up to Shoreline Road, down the bike path, and back into town. Just shy of six miles in all.”

  “Sounds great.”

  They smiled at each other quickly, Clancy admiring how her ponytail would swing back and forth with her stride. He had to say that her running form was excellent—efficient and relaxed. Her gaze was forward, her shoulders were straight but not tight, and her torso and hips were perfectly aligned, upright but not rigid. She looked perfectly at home running. In fact, Clancy decided he’d never seen a sight more beautiful than Evie in full stride, the green-blue of the ocean behind her.

  Once they reached Shoreline, they headed to the bike path, parts of which were in shade and caught the southern cross-breeze.

  Evie spoke as they kept running. “I’m sorry, but I have to tell you something.”

  “What’s wrong? Do you have a cramp?”

  “Ha! No. Do you?”

  They both laughed, recognizing the friendly competition that existed between them on this run. It turned Clancy on so much that he wished he could just throw her down in the pine needles and get jiggy with her.

  “I can’t go to the reenactment with you tonight. I’m sorry. It’s my dad’s birthday, and my mom wants us all together to celebrate while we’re on vacation.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Are you mad?”

  Clancy laughed, knowing he’d dodged a bullet. “Of course not. I was getting ready to tell you the same thing—tonight is my family’s stupid annual cookout. I thought about inviting you, but you’d have to meet everyone, including my brother, who is a complete ass.”

  She laughed. “I guess we’re cool, then.”

  Clancy reached out and gave her ponytail a friendly tug. “I have a feeling that we’re always going to be cool with each other, no matter what.”

  For some reason, he just couldn’t spit it out about the Mermaid Ball. He was crazy nervous. But the more they ran the more time was running out. If he didn’t do it now, it wouldn’t happen.

  After their run was over, Clancy saw Evie to the motel and pulled her behind the loblolly pines. He asked for a good-bye kiss, and it was one for the record books.

  “Will you go to the Mermaid Ball with me tomorrow night?”

  Evie stared at him and said nothing at first.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to go.”

  “No! Yes! Yes, I do want to go! It’s just that—I don’t have anything to wear. Isn’t it a costume ball?”

  Clancy kissed her again. He could kiss her forever. “Nah. It’s not required. It will be your last night on the island, you know? I really want to spend it together.”

  Oh, no. She was going to cry. God, he didn’t mean to do that, but how was he supposed to know what would send her over the edge and what wouldn’t bother her at all? Evie almost died and didn’t even whine, but he gave her a ten-dollar wind chime and she needed a Kleenex.

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head, trying to pull herself together. “I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just the idea of it being our last night.”

  “It’s the last night of your vacation on Bayberry Island,” Clancy corrected her. “It won’t be our last night, period. I know it.”

  He gave her one last sweaty good-bye kiss, then jogged back home. About halfway, he heard a horn and the sputtering of the beater 1985 Toyota 4-Runner Duncan was so proud of. Clancy ignored him as his brother slowed the car and pulled alongside him with the window open.

  “Hey, who’s the brown-haired cutie I saw you runnin’ with?”

  Clancy kept his eyes ahead.

  “She looks like that Felicity chick from TV. Real nice.”

  He didn’t pay any attention to Duncan—sometimes it seemed like his big brother’s only reason for being alive was to try to jump Clancy’s case. Suddenly, the SUV swerved in front of him and nearly ran him over. That was the end of his patience.

  “What is your friggin’ problem, dude?”

  Duncan draped his arm over the front seat and looked down at him, laughing. “I was just going to ask you the same thing, lover boy. Don’t you think fourteen is a little early to be sinkin’ the salmon?”

  Clancy shook his head and walked around the car, slamming a fist into the hood as he went.

  “Hey, moron! You just put a dent in my ride!”

  Clancy laughed. “No, I just put a repair in your dent.”

  “Fine. You wanna fuck up my car? Then I’ll make sure I get the chance to spend some time with Felicity.”

  Clancy knew it was the absolute stupidest thing he could do, because if he reacted, Duncan would see how easy he could get to him through Evie. But he couldn’t help himself. It was like he’d gone blind and deaf with anger. He whipped around.

  “I swear to God, Duncan. If you speak to her or even look at her, I will kick your asthmatic ass to Kennebunk and back!”

  “Bwaa-haaa-haaa!” Duncan turned his steering wheel and peeled off onto the road, waving. “Later, you pussy-whipped girlie-man!”

  Chapter Twelve

  She did it. While Christina was asleep, she turned on the television and faced reality. The two
of them were quite the celebrities. In the five minutes Evelyn allowed herself to flip through the channels, she heard Wahlman’s interview recounted several times, saw his face on four channels, and listened to two separate interviews with FBI agents. When federal investigators described her as “quiet” and “disciplined,” she just about threw up. They might as well have called her a psychopath and be done with it.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, the world now knew she was traveling under the name Cricket Dickinson. Now her ID was worthless.

  She turned off Clancy’s television. She refused to let this destroy her, but she knew how shattered her father must be. It had to be killing him. This whole drawn-out saga was putting him through hell. And he didn’t deserve it.

  Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the memory from flooding her mind, but she couldn’t. Maybe the details of that summer day would never leave her, no matter how hard she tried to forget.

  Richard Wahlman’s fancy lawyer had shown up at the farm before noon on a sunny July afternoon. Evelyn, Pop-Pop, and Chrissy had just returned from a successful berry-picking adventure, and had arrived home with quarts and quarts of boysenberries, raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries. As always, the next couple days would be devoted to baking, canning, freezing, and jam making. Though everyone was choked with grief over Amanda’s death, Evelyn thought Christina needed to see that the rhythm of life would go on.

  When they heard a loud and impatient banging at the front door, Evelyn knew she needed to answer it—Pop-Pop was out in the back garden picking snap peas and digging potatoes for dinner. She hurried toward the front of the house with a berry-smeared Chrissy on her heels.

  The man in the suit was a stranger.

  “Evelyn McGuinness?”

  Her stomach fell to the ground. Had something else horrible happened? What now? “Yes.” Christina ran behind her legs.

  He shoved folded-up papers into her sticky hands.

  “But—”

  “You are hereby subpoenaed to comply with an emergency order for determination of paternity, and you are required to make any response within ten days to this petition for custody.”

  Pop-Pop came running in from the garden, horror in his eyes. It had been just over a month since State Police arrived to inform them Amanda had been killed. Evelyn saw her father’s expression and immediately knew what he was thinking, because she had asked herself the same question: everyone was right here—who else was left to die?

  Her father turned bright red when he unfolded the papers. Evelyn’s body trembled. Christina began to cry, not because she understood any of what was happening but because she was emotionally raw and the only people in the world she had left were clearly in distress.

  Her father didn’t do well with any of it. It had devastated him to learn of Amanda’s affair with the congressman. The custody ruling left him livid. And Evelyn knew that running off with Christina likely caused him to experience both those emotions all over again, and for that she was truly sorry. She hadn’t even given her dad a chance to say good-bye. And now, with the FBI surely keeping him under a microscope, she couldn’t risk sending him a message that they were all right. That was, by far, the worst part of all this.

  Evelyn had no idea how long Christina would sleep in Clancy Flynn’s guest room, but eventually, she would wake up. And then what? Would Evelyn and the police chief play house, neither acknowledging that she was a wanted felon? Would she bolt before he returned home tonight? And go where?

  She decided to call Hal. She sat at the dining room table, which put the guest room door directly in her line of vision. She would end this call at the first sign her niece was awake.

  While the phone rang on Hal’s end, she glanced at the slew of family pictures on Clancy’s walls—this man’s normal life looked like other people’s vacation pictures. There was deep-sea fishing, beach bonfires, sailing, people tanned and fit and laughing, and an adorable photo of three kids under ten, sitting on the steps of a fabulous old mansion. She spotted Clancy right away. He was the one in the middle, the one who looked like he was up to no good. He had that same glint in his eye, even back then. She could see the man in the boy, just as she now saw the boy in the man.

  “Christ, where the hell are you?” Hal said by way of greeting as soon as he picked up the call.

  “Still on Bayberry Island.”

  “You’re still at the motel?”

  “We left early this morning.”

  “I’ll make a quick cyber visit to the Sand Dollar and remove any record of your reservation.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So if you’re not there, where are you? Are you okay?”

  “We’re safe for the moment.”

  “Want to tell me how that is possible? Because I was just watching Headline News, and the FBI is spreading out on Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket, and Bayberry, searching for a tallish, athletic woman who looks a lot like Brigitte Nielsen. And Wahlman, that scum, is whoring himself out to any media outlet that will take him. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him make a guest appearance on Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo.”

  “Please, Hal. Stop. I really don’t feel like—”

  “I just wanted to hear you laugh. You must be worn to a frazzle.”

  “I . . . I’m okay. At least right now.”

  Hal remained quiet for a moment. “Something’s different with you. What’s going on? You sound sort of—I don’t know—calm, I guess, which is the last thing I expected. Where exactly are you on Bayberry? Where’s Chrissy?”

  Evelyn sighed and propped her forehead in her hand. “I don’t really know what’s going on, but Chris is napping. We’re at Clancy Flynn’s place while he’s at work.”

  Hal gasped. “What? Did you break in or something? What the hell?”

  Now that made her laugh, and Hal had been right—it felt good. “We were invited.”

  “All-right-tee then.”

  “We left the motel early and ran through a rainstorm, making the ferry by the skin of our teeth. But the boat didn’t push off on time, and then Clancy calmly walks on board, grabs our stuff, and escorts us off. I thought for sure we were being taken into custody, but he took us home with him and made us pancakes.”

  “He arrested you and then made you breakfast?”

  “No. It wasn’t an arrest. His uniform was covered in rain gear and he didn’t flash his badge or anything when he got us off the ferry. He just took us to his Jeep.”

  “And he knows who you are?”

  “We haven’t exactly had time for a heart-to-heart about it, but I know he does. I can see it in his eyes, like he’s worried about me. He told me he wanted us to stay. He told me to trust him.”

  Hal groaned. “Hold up. I don’t get it, Evie. What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m not completely sure.”

  “Uh, yeah. So what is your immediate plan—to stay there until the FBI has come and gone?”

  “I don’t have a plan.”

  “Sweetie, I’m not sure this is such a great idea. Are you putting your fate in this cop’s hands? Do you really trust this dude?”

  Evie had no idea how to answer that question. There was no logical reason why she should, and yet . . . “I don’t know if I trust him, Hal. But it’s the best offer I’ve had today. Do you have a better idea?”

  No comment.

  Once she promised Hal that she would check in with him that night, Evelyn went back out on the deck, and continued to stare across the sea.

  * * *

  Clancy opened the front door and encountered silence. No little girl running barefoot down the hall. No Evie.

  She was gone.

  He tossed the costume bags on a chair and simply stood there. He let the emotions slam into him like a rough shore break, hitting his chest so hard that it knocked the air out of him. Up until right tha
t moment, Clancy hadn’t realized how desperately he wanted her to be here.

  And now what? He was afraid for Evie and intensely sad for Christina. Why did she run? Why didn’t she even give him a chance to help her? Immediately, Clancy began playing it out in his head—maybe he could still find her before the FBI did, and at the very least be a friendly face and a shoulder to cry on when the feds took her into custody.

  Enough.

  Evie left because she didn’t want his help. She never wrote to him all those years ago because she didn’t feel the way he did. It was all pretty simple. But dammit, it hurt like hell. It felt like torture to see her after all this time, only to watch her disappear again.

  Yeah, his thoughts wandered to her, the stone-faced harpy, and he had to laugh at himself. So it had come to this—eighteen years on, Police Chief Clancy Flynn now stood in his own living room, revving up to give the mermaid the beat-down she deserved.

  “Still having fun with me, huh? Never found anyone as satisfying to screw with? Is that it?” He didn’t know where to look because, well, the fountain was a mile away. So he just spun around and looked everywhere. “Don’t you think I’m all paid up now—principal, penalties, and interest? Give me a fuckin’ break!”

  He shoved his ball cap in place and turned to go, catching a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Off to the left, on the deck beyond the dining room double doors, he saw a ripple of a blue-and-white-striped shirt.

  She was here.

  At that instant, Evie moved into the frame of the doorway, looking out to the ocean. Clancy’s heart jumped to see the shock of white blond hair, the long neck, and those legs. God, it was so wrong to be looking at her legs at a time like this! But he was only a man, and for eighteen years now he’d been walking the earth with the image of Evie’s legs permanently burned into his brain, the standard bearer for every woman he would encounter. No one ever came close.