The Sweetest Summer: A Bayberry Island Novel

  Through his tears, Charlie noticed a small corner of bright blue paper sticking from beneath Amanda’s computer keyboard. He found it curious, maybe because it didn’t match the rest of the room. He pushed himself from the bed and yanked it loose.

  It was a vacation brochure for Bayberry Island’s Mermaid Festival. Tucked in its pages was a piece of white memo paper from Amanda’s job. In her handwriting he saw this: “9 months from now. Pop-Pop’s 70th b-day, same hotel??? Same rooms? Check ferry schedule, block out vacation, remind Evie. Festival 3rd wk Aug.”

  Charlie froze where he stood, the pieces falling into place in his mind. Evie had, in fact, planned to take vacation this week, the third week of August. Today was his seventieth birthday. He and Ginny had taken the girls to the festival once. . . . What was it, almost twenty years ago now? Had Amanda planned to re-create that happy time for his birthday?

  He felt a huge smile break out across his face. So that’s how Evie had done it—she had used plans made by Amanda nine months before for her escape. Evie and Chrissy were on Bayberry Island, at least they had been, at one point. Surely, Charlie would have heard if agents had found them, if not a personal phone call, then at least from the news.

  No. Evie had likely left before the FBI came looking for them. She was so smart. All that running had made her focused and strong, and Charlie knew if anyone could get through this, it would be his Evelyn.

  He suddenly knew in his heart that his girls would be all right. He thanked God for their mystery helper, whoever it might be.

  The kitchen phone rang. For fifty years now, Charlie had resisted getting a phone upstairs, but he was too old to keep running up and down the steps like this. Maybe it was time to get with the times.

  “Hold yah horses! I’m comin’!”

  * * *

  Evie and Christina spent the later part of the morning on the beach with the dogs. Mr. T and Earl never left their side, even when they waded into the gentle surf and swam around. The dogs paddled out with them, sometimes barking, then swimming away only to come back and bark some more. It felt to Evie as if they had been assigned bodyguard duty, and she appreciated their service.

  “Silly dogs!” Christina reached out to touch Mr. T’s big head. “Look! He’s a seal!”

  Evelyn thought back to the events of that morning. Christina had woken up smiling, and her first question of the day was “Where’s Sir Clancy?” Evie had sat on the edge of the guest bed and explained that he’d had to go to work at the police station and he would be home later.

  “Can we go see him there?”

  “Not today.”

  “Is he catching all those bad guys?”

  “If there are any bad guys, yes, he will catch them.”

  “You sure?”

  Evie had pulled Christina into her arms and hugged her tight. “I’m sure, Jellybean.”

  “Did he got Mr. Richard, too?”

  Evelyn had done everything in her power not to flinch. This was, officially, the first time Christina had ever mentioned him. She had endured four supervised play sessions with Wahlman in the child protective services agency back home, but she never talked about those visits nor asked any questions about Richard. Evie and Pop-Pop had explained to her that Richard was a new friend who wanted to get to know her. It seemed as if Christina had no reaction to him, one way or the other.

  But somewhere in the recesses of her four-year-old brain, she had formed an opinion, and it hadn’t been favorable.

  Evelyn steadied herself and held Christina away so she could check her expression. “Mr. Richard is a bad guy?”

  Christina had nodded.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Christina looked around the guest room and gave a quick shrug of her shoulders. “We had to leave because of him.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

  Evelyn had watched in amazement as Christina jumped out of bed and went to the bathroom. Then she calmly went out to the dining room table to play with her paper dolls.

  Evelyn kept an eye on her niece while she made steel-cut oats and fruit for breakfast, absolutely stunned by the conversation they’d had. Clearly, Chrissy understood more than they had given her credit for.

  That’s when they heard a knock on the front door, and she had caught Christina before she opened it. Evie peeked out the front window to see it was Annie, and told Christina to go ahead.

  “Annie, Annie, Annie, Annie!” Christina had launched herself into Annie’s arms.

  “How are you guys this morning?” Annie had kissed Christina on the cheek and sat her down, then handed Evelyn a bag from a store called the Wilbury Drug & Dime. “I did a little shopping for you.”

  Evelyn had looked inside. Right. Two different shades of hair dye—one a deep copper and the other a dark brown. She raised her eyes to Annie.

  “Clancy suggested these. I hope they’re okay with you.” She was already headed down the front porch steps. “If you need anything at all, call me or Rowan. We’re always around.”

  Evelyn’s mouth had hung open.

  “Bye, Annie!” Christina said.

  “Bye, Jellybean!”

  “Thank you,” Evelyn had said.

  And now they bobbed along with the dogs in the warm, shallow waves, a woman with very short dark hair and a little kid with a red buzz cut.

  After they lounged around on their towels for a bit, warming up in the sun, they decided to head back into the house for lunch. The dogs ran ahead of them, barking like fiends, while Evelyn carried their gear and her niece. She cleared the top edge of the pathway and plopped Christina down in the grass.

  “Aunt Cricket?”

  “Just a second, sweetie.” She wrestled with the towels and tried to keep her sun hat out of her eyes while she searched her pockets for Clancy’s house key. That’s when she saw him—a big no-nonsense-looking guy who was obviously a federal agent. Evelyn dropped everything and grabbed Christina, tearing across the backyard. It was a reflex, but she had no idea where she was headed. The man jogged down the deck steps, then rested his hands on his hips like he was completely baffled.

  So much for bodyguards—the dogs seemed thrilled to see the man. Earl had his paws on his chest and Mr. T was rolling around on his back with joy. Both of their tails were wagging uncontrollably.

  Evelyn stopped running. Christina buried her face in her shoulder. Wait a minute. . . .

  Dark curly hair. Blue eyes. God’s gift to women.

  “Look, I’m sorry to startle you.” He cocked his head and stared at her. “I . . . uh, do we know each other from somewhere?”

  It was Duncan! Her answer came out as a hoarse whisper. “We are Clancy’s houseguests.”

  One of his thick dark eyebrows shot high on his forehead. “Oh, reeeeealy?”

  “Was he expecting you today?”

  For some reason, he found that question particularly funny. “Naw. I’m a little earlier than usual.”

  “Maybe I’d better call him,” Evelyn said.

  “Maybe you should.”

  * * *

  “I know you have a key, but you can’t stay at my house right now, dude.”

  “It does seem pretty crowded with your wife and kid and all. I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked, but holy hopscotching Jesus, you work fast!”

  Clancy tilted back in his office chair. “It’s good to see you. Welcome home. How are things?”

  His brother sighed. “Oh, you know.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I know.” Duncan grinned. “But I’m good. Lots of changes now with our withdrawal, but just because the troops leave doesn’t mean the problems are gone.”

  “So you’ll be doing another tour?”

  “I go wherever and whenever they tell me. It’s my job. H
ow’s everybody?”

  “Good. Mom’s health is about the same, but, big news—she’s giving up being Grand Poobah of the merms.”

  Duncan’s eyes went wide. “No way! Are you shittin’ me?”

  Clancy shook his head. “Nope. She’s finally letting it go.”

  “Thank God!” Duncan closed his eyes in relief. Clancy knew if there was anyone who disliked the mermaid more than he did, it was Duncan. “Wait. Does that mean . . . has Rowan . . . ?”

  “God, no. I think Ma’s finally given up trying to convince Rowan to join, so she got another lady to take her place.”

  Duncan nodded. “That’s a relief. So how’s Da? Do our parents still hate each other?”

  Clancy held out his hands out. “I have no idea. I think last year’s cookout was the last time they spoke, but I try not to get involved.”

  “Yeah, ‘avoid all preexisting Charlie Foxtrots.’ That’s what my first unit commander always said. How about Rowan and Ash?”

  “They’re great. You’ll get all the deets when you sleep there for the duration of your shore leave.”

  Duncan burst out laughing. Clancy stared at his brother, mulling it over. He had no idea how much to tell him about Evie.

  “Spit it out.”

  “What?” Clancy took his feet off his desk.

  “What’s going on?”

  “With what?”

  Duncan put his elbows on Clancy’s desk and lowered his voice. “Dude, they got cable at all major airports, and I didn’t get here by rowboat.”

  Clancy frowned at him.

  “It took me a minute, but I eventually put it together. Man, I’ll tell you what: she looks better as a brunette. The kid’s a cutie, too, despite the Ronald McDonald hair. How about you tell me the part of this I’m missing?”

  Clancy said nothing.

  “I’m damn sure missing something, right? Because my brother the fucking Eagle Scout is harboring a fugitive.”

  “The only thing you’re missing is the big picture.”

  “Then hook me up.”

  At that moment, Clancy decided it wasn’t enough that the door was closed—he needed to lock it, too. Once he did, he stayed standing and dropped his voice to just above a whisper.

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  Clancy crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at Duncan. His brother could be an ass, but he could count on him when it really mattered. “She hasn’t done anything wrong—well, technically, she did take the kid across state lines in violation of a custody ruling, but the congressman is not on the up-and-up.”

  “That’s a shocker.”

  “I got Mickey Flaherty on it.”

  Duncan squinted at him. “Whoa. I thought for sure he’d retired from all the Secret Squirrel shit.”

  “He’s only thirty-two.”

  “Oh, I’m well aware of that. In his line of work, any-time you’re still alive is the right time to retire.”

  “I don’t even know exactly what he does.”

  “Better that way. So how’s he helping you?”

  Clancy paced the office. “He’s working with an IT friend of Evie’s. The three of us are in constant contact. We’re covering all the bases—the congressman’s finances, sex life, physical and mental health, personal enemies. Apparently, Mickey’s almost got Wahlman’s chief of staff ready to turn on him. He’s working on the guy’s wife, too.”

  “Mickey’s always had skills with the ladies.”

  They were quiet for a moment.

  “Look, Duncan, the woman at my house—”

  “Evelyn from Maine.”

  Clancy nodded.

  “You know, there’s something else vaguely familiar about her. I’ve seen her before the news stories. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “She was a tourist here eighteen years ago. The summer I was fourteen. I wouldn’t think you’d remember her, though.”

  Duncan blinked a few times in surprise. “Well, whaddya know?” Then he stood and grabbed his duffel. He gave Clancy a big, hard hug. “You look good, bro. If there’s anything you need, I got your back.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Does the fam know what’s going on with your girl?”

  “They figured it out. Both Rowan and Mom called me this morning to talk about Evie. They really like her and have sworn to secrecy, but they’re worried about me catching hell for helping her.”

  Duncan nodded. “And Da?”

  “He doesn’t know jack. Something like this would freak him out.”

  Duncan laughed. “The mayor always seems to be the last to know.” He headed for the door.

  “So, you gonna let Ma know you’re here or make her worry until tomorrow night?”

  “I’m on my way to see her right now.” Duncan’s hand touched the doorknob and froze there. “So this Evie . . . she had long, wavy hair back then, didn’t she?”

  “Yep.”

  “So she came here for help? You stayed in touch all these years?”

  Clancy laughed. “No. She never wrote me after that summer, and I never saw her again, until Friday, when she showed up here, trying to stay under the radar with her niece. We recognized each other, and she confided in me.”

  Duncan spun around. He had an odd look on his face, but Clancy couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Duncan laughed uncomfortably. “So it was fate, eh? A coincidence that you found each other again?”

  “More fate than coincidence, I think.”

  “Interesting. Catch you later, bro.”

  With that, Clancy’s hard-to-read big brother was gone.

  Eighteen years ago . . .

  Ah, man. This was it. Evie’s fingers slid along the inside of Clancy’s wrist and brushed down the center of his outstretched palm. She took one step forward—and she was gone. Her scent stayed in the air for an instant before it was washed away by the breeze.

  She walked off between her mom and dad and headed up the ferry gangway.

  Right then, Clancy felt like a museum specimen or psychology experiment on public display. Even Old John noticed he was bawling. The ferry conductor winked at him and gave him a salute. Maybe other people, even Old John, understood how it felt to be so in love with a girl that your heart couldn’t keep beating when she left. Maybe Clancy wasn’t the only guy in the world whose bones and guts felt like they were being ripped from his body because she had just walked away.

  Evie leaned against the outer railing of the ferry for a good five minutes, staring at him, the wind tossing around her long brown hair. She started crying, too. It was too much. She waved good-bye one last time and disappeared into the passenger cabin.

  The ferry horn made its racket, and the big, smelly beast pulled away, bound for Nantucket. Clancy had no idea how long he stood there, stiff on the outside and crumbling on the inside.

  Chip suddenly appeared at his shoulder. “I know you really liked her. I don’t blame you. She was awesome.” He patted Clancy on the back real quick, then pulled his hand away. There was a big difference between being a friend and being completely dweebish, and Clancy was glad Chip knew the difference. “I’ll stand here with you if you want.”

  Clancy couldn’t thank him, because trying to talk would make him cry harder. He stayed there until the dark plume of the ferry’s diesel smoke disappeared over the horizon. “I’d better go home,” he told Chip.

  “I’ll walk with you.”

  They were on the boardwalk when he sensed that Mickey Flaherty just snuck up behind them. The stale Marlboro stink traveling upwind was always a dead giveaway. Clancy ignored him. He really wasn’t in the mood for whatever Mickey had to contribute.

  “So the fish bitch got you after all.”

  Clancy twisted a
round, his arm already cocked. Chip held him back, growling at Mickey. “Leave him alone!”

  “Ha!” Mickey started dancing around the two of them, doubled over with laughter. “We told you the mermaid was gonna pop a cap in your ass for being so disrespectful! And look at you now, the Prince of Bayberry Island just cryin’ like a baby.”

  “He’s an asshole. Let’s just keep walkin’.”

  Maybe that was true, but Clancy knew even assholes could be right every once in a while.

  By the time he arrived at the Safe Haven, he felt numb. The sadness sat like a big lump in his gut, but the crying had stopped, and now he had no idea what to do with himself. Evie was gone.

  He headed across the lawn and down the family’s stairs to Haven Beach. It was a cloudy morning. The rest of his family was probably helping his dad set up for the closing ceremonies. He had promised he would be there, too, but right now he just couldn’t face anyone.

  Clancy shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts and walked, heading nowhere. He realized he’d never again be able to stroll along this beach without thinking of her—how soft her skin was, how sweet she tasted and smelled, how happy she made him feel.

  As soon as Clancy turned back, he saw a figure running toward him. He knew who it was, even from this distance. Perfect form, great speed, effortlessly long strides eating up the beach—it was Duncan.

  It took about two minutes for them to meet up.

  “Mom sent me to look for you.”

  “Well, you found me, Sherlock.”

  “What’s your problem, dude?” Duncan leaned down and looked up into Clancy’s face like he was a lost kid at Island Day. He made a fake pouty face. “Did Felicity go home?”

  “Shut up.”

  Duncan chuckled, swinging his arm around Clancy’s shoulders. “Look, I’m telling you straight up—fourteen is too young to become stuck on one girl. It’s not healthy, okay? You’re not even a man yet, and men are supposed to spend, like, ten to twenty years checking out all the options before they make a choice.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Ruth.”

  “Clancy. Dude. I’m trying to be a helpful and understanding big brother, for real.”