The sweet smell of cinnamon made my mouth water as we stepped into a large room with a light blue sofa and chairs, again, placed methodically around a round coffee table. Oddly enough, one of the chairs was covered in plastic. I glanced around but saw no evidence of a dog or cat. The house was far too sterile looking to keep a pet, unfortunately. A big bouncing dog or fussy little cat might have added a touch of normalcy to the place.
“Mother, Kinley Kennedy is here,” Marcus announced me so formally I felt as if I was stepping into a room for a regency era ball. Mrs. Underwood was in her mid to late fifties and she had the same rather severe expression as her son. Her blonde hair was combed back from her face, highlighting a flawless complexion and high cheek bones. Her only concession to makeup was a dark pink lipstick that stood out boldly from her fair skin. They were living on an island but both the Underwoods looked as if they’d never stepped outside in the sun.
Mrs. Underwood was wearing an almost formal looking pantsuit with a simple gold chain around her neck. I glanced down at my own attire and felt as if I’d just fallen off a passing cargo boat. Suddenly, my jeans and sweater seemed like a terrible choice of wardrobe for first impressions.
She stood from the sofa. “I’m Mrs. Underwood but you may call me Katherine.” Unlike her son, Mrs. Underwood had no aversion to shaking hands. In fact, she held on to mine for longer than a normal handshake. She brazenly surveyed me from head to toe as if she were buying a car or a horse. “You are even prettier than your pictures. Isn’t she Marcus?”
Marcus nodded, and added a rather unenthusiastic ‘very pretty’. Rather than sitting in the big chair directly behind him, he traveled across the rug to the opposite chair and sat gently down on the plastic.
“Come sit next to me, Kinley, and tell us about yourself. Rebecca will be down shortly. I insisted she finish reading two chapters in her book before joining us. I think you’ll find she’s a very bright girl, but she’s highly distractible. If you can keep her focused, half your battle will be won.” Katherine was definitely friendlier and more lively than her son. I was relieved. After the unexplained coldness between Marcus and Dax, coupled with all of Marcus’s quirky mannerisms, I worried that I’d somehow ended up working for the Addams family.
A stout woman with chalky gray hair and a white housekeeper uniform bustled into the room with a smile that made her cheeks look as if they were holding oranges. She was carrying a tray with a coffee pot and two cups. “I’ll bring yours right out, sir,” she said quickly to Marcus as she walked past him.
“Janice, this is Kinley. She will be Rebecca’s new teacher.”
Janice nodded politely. “Nice to meet you. I’ve brought both cream and sugar because I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee.”
I sat forward. “Black is fine. Thank you so much. The pastries look wonderful.” I had a hard time drawing my hungry gaze away from the plate of baked goods sitting on the end of the coffee table.
Katherine quickly moved the plate in front of me. “Please, eat as many as you like, but be aware that we’ll be serving dinner in an hour.” It was like a backhanded compliment only this time it was a delightful offer of pastries with a reminder not to enjoy them too much. And something told me Katherine was the kind of woman who expected you to eat all your vegetables and finish every crumb on the plate. Still, I hadn’t eaten for at least five hours and I was starved. I picked up the smallest pastry on the plate, an apple Danish with strands of creamy white glaze. It tasted as if heaven had landed in my mouth.
I glanced around as I chewed as politely and slowly as I could for being ravenous. It seemed both mother and son were watching me. I swallowed and stuck the remainder of the pastry in my napkin, deciding to save it for later, when I was alone in my room.
The jovial, energetic Janice returned before any more conversation could take place. This time she was wearing plastic gloves, like the kind that surgeons wear. She had a tray and a cup that was wrapped completely in cellophane. She stopped at Marcus’s chair.
“Shall I have Janice warm up your coffee, Kinley?” Mrs. Underwood asked loudly, even though I was sitting right next to her.
“No, it’s fine.” It seemed she wanted more than anything to pull my attention away from Marcus, but my curious gaze was glued his direction. Janice waited patiently as Marcus picked up the cup, unwrapped it and tossed the used plastic wrap back on the tray. Steam spiraled up from the cup as he brought it to his mouth. His eyes landed on me, and it seemed he’d momentarily forgotten that they had a visitor. He turned his face away, almost as if embarrassed. I turned back to Katherine. She looked slightly disgruntled that I’d witnessed the cup unveiling.
I gave her a warm smile, trying to let her know that I understood completely. It didn’t take any huge skills or knowledge to deduce that Marcus was a germophobe, a person with an extreme fear of germs. It suddenly made me like him more. It made him more pliable, more real. It had to be a struggle and a horrible burden to live with, and I was determined not to notice any of his unusual behavior.
I placed my coffee and pastry filled napkin on the tray. “I noticed you have a replica of the U.S.S Constitution in the dining room.”
Behind me the heavy plastic crackled, and, from the corner of my eye, I saw Marcus sit forward. I faced him.
“You recognized it from the hallway?” Marcus asked with more enthusiasm than I thought him capable of.
“Old Ironsides is a fairly recognizable ship. But I confess, I have more expertise than most. Although, it wasn’t planned expertise. It was sort of forced upon me by my dad. He has quite an obsession with warships.” A short laugh shot from my mouth before I could cover it with my hand. Something told me this was a house where you covered your mouth when you laughed.
I turned my attention completely to Marcus because the topic had lit up his face. “We passed by the room quickly, but at some point, I’d love to take a closer look. It looked quite impressive. A lot like the real thing.”
The thick plastic squeaked with movement as Marcus sat even closer to the edge of the chair. His reaction was almost kidlike as if he was ten and a friend was telling him about his Pokémon collection. “Have you seen the real ship?” It seemed the mention of warships had cracked through an otherwise steely exterior. It seemed I’d found a small chink in his armor.
“My father and I traveled to Boston about five years ago to see her in the Charleston Navy Yard. She was, quite frankly, amazing. You could almost hear the voices of the sailors who fought on her decks centuries ago and taste the ancient remnant of salty air evaporating off her sails. She fought pirates and—” I stopped and silently chided myself. “Of course, you probably know all about her.”
He looked at me and for the first time, I saw a human soul behind the eyes. “I know a lot about her, but I’m always fascinated to hear from someone who has seen her in person.”
“So you’ve never been to Boston to visit her?”
I’d asked the question hastily, and his reaction, flat and cold, assured me I shouldn’t have asked it. I knew nothing about the man, really, except that he had an obvious fear of germs and he’d been living for some time on a remote island. Dax had given me an itinerary of his flights to the island, including transporting Katherine back and forth along with the house and groundskeepers, but he’d made no mention of Marcus. It was silly of me not to put together the pieces that were right in front of me. Marcus stayed on the island to avoid all the plagues and maladies on the mainland.
A quick topic change was needed to pull me out of the mire I’d created. I wasn’t quite ready to have my bags taken back to the runway with a thank you but no thank you send off. I took a deep breath. “Talking about ships and my dad always sparks a little homesickness in me. Not that I ever had a true home to be sick about, but for me home was wherever my parents were. They are archaeologists, and they travel all around the
world.”
“Yes, you mentioned that on your cover letter,” Katherine piped up. “Marcus constructed that ship model on his own.”
“Oh wow, I can’t imagine the skill and patience it would take to build something so intricate.”
Marcus’s smile was almost awkward, unpracticed, but it was real. And it was obvious he was glad to have someone take notice of his talent. It seemed, for now, I’d washed away the mess of my first step in the mud. Not that I wasn’t convinced more would follow. I was very good at stepping in it.
I turned back to Katherine, who was wearing a satisfied grin, almost as if she’d just achieved a major accomplishment. They were both a little odd when it came to normal interactions but then they had been living on an island away from civilization. I wondered how long they’d been living on Wildthorne.
An awkward silence followed. It was apparent they were both still trying hard to assess me. I decided to start a new topic.
“I have to say, I’m very anxious to meet Rebecca. Do you think she’ll be down soon?” Just as I finished the question, quick light footsteps sounded in the hallway, footsteps that had to belong to a twelve-year-old.
Rebecca flounced into the room wearing a bright pink t-shirt with glittering letters that said Pink Punk and wearing two long braids that she’d apparently done on her own without a mirror. She was petite and she moved like a ballerina, barely touching the floor as she floated over it in fuzzy yellow socks.
An aggravated sigh ushered from her mother’s mouth. “Becky, I asked you to change out of that ridiculous shirt. And where are the shoes I left you to put on? Your new teacher will think you’re an out of control brat.”
“No need to cover up the truth, Mother. Kinley would find it out for herself soon enough,” Marcus said over the rim of his cup.
He spoke in a serious, wry tone but instead of looking admonished, Becky raced toward him. She stuck her finger in her mouth and then pulled it out. “Need me to stir your coffee?”
Marcus covered the cup but didn’t let even his pristine white palm touch it. “Leave me alone and at least try and make a good impression. We’d like this one to stick around for awhile.” I was almost sure I caught a glimmer of a second smile, but it was so fleeting, it was hard to know for sure.
“Yes, we do!” Katherine spoke up with so much enthusiasm it startled me. She winked at her son and turned back to her daughter. “Becky, this is Miss Kennedy and even if you don’t listen to me as much as you should, I expect you to listen to her one hundred percent of the time.”
“Yes, Mother.” Becky had a spray of freckles and her brown hair had streaks of blonde in it. Her skin was tanned. It seemed, unlike the rest of the household, she actually ventured outside. She was the only person in the house who looked as if she actually lived on an island. I planned to follow her lead and look the same once I settled in.
Becky’s little hand shot out. Her brown eyes sparkled as much as her smile. “Come, I’ll show you my room and the classroom. But I’ll warn you, my bedroom is way more interesting than that mausoleum of a classroom.”
I hopped up and took her hand. She looked up at me. “Oh my gosh, you’re pretty. Maybe sometime, you can teach me how to put on mascara.”
“Dinner is at seven,” Katherine called to us. “After you show her the classroom, Becky, show Kinley to the guest room.”
Becky waved to acknowledge the request and then pulled me through the hallway to the staircase.
Chapter 4
Dax
Zoe slid into the booth just as I finished my beer. The empty beer bottles clattered and fell like bowling pins as she bumped the table in her quest to climb up and straddle my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck and settled down over me, making sure the crotch of her jeans rubbed against my cock. It might have been the eight beers or the fact that my head ached from the fist fight, but I didn’t react. My mood had been dark since I’d turned around and left Kinley standing on Wildthorne Island. I had planned on making a quick exit and reminding myself that none of it mattered to me. Whatever happened on that island was none of my business. But then something happened before I made good on my escape. Kinley had called to me and when I turned around it felt as if someone had knocked the wind from me. I had to curl my fingers into fists to keep from lunging back toward her to haul her back to the plane.
Zoe planted a trail of hot kisses on my neck and still nothing. Normally, it took no more than the brush of her hand on my face or her breast rubbing against my arm and I was hard as a rock. But not tonight.
Zoe sensed my lack of enthusiasm and leaned back to scowl at me.
“You’re about as fun as a bad toothache tonight, Dax.” She put on her best pout.
“Sorry. My head is pounding from that fight. Got my mind on other things too.”
Her pout only deepened.
I kissed her lips. “Rain check?”
She climbed off. “Whatever. Anyhow, Kyle’s having a party. He never needs a rain check.” Zoe hopped out of the booth and headed out of the bar. She leaned back past the open door before leaving. “Think you’re going to be sorry about this once you get back to that lonely beach house of yours.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Have fun, Zoe. Catch you later.”
Lottie headed over with a tray to collect the empty bottles. She smacked it down on the table and put her hands on her hips.
I groaned and shook my head. “No lectures tonight, Lottie. I’m not in any fucking mood to hear all the things I need to change in my life.”
“Fine.” She started putting the bottles on the tray. “If you want to waste your life sucking down my cheap beer, hanging out with women who don’t mean any more to you than a new pair of socks and talking to yourself in that rundown hovel of a beach house, then go right ahead. I just think you were born for more. Your dad thought so too.”
I lifted my eyes to her. “My dad has been dead since I was three. I can’t even remember what he looked like.”
One hand went to her hip again. “You know who I’m talking about. I don’t know why you’re punishing yourself like this.”
“It’s not a punishment, Lottie. It’s how I prefer to live. No relationships. No responsibilities. All I need is my plane, my surfboard—” I lifted a bottle and raised it in a toast. “And your cheap beer.”
“If you say so.” She finished clearing my table. “Another?”
“Nope, I’m heading home. Waves should be cranking in the morning.”
Lottie picked up the tray. “Did you get that woman to the island all right? She looked a little hesitant.”
“She loosened up once we were in the air.”
“She sure was pretty.”
I nodded. “That she was.”
“Can’t imagine she’ll last long out there on that cold, gloomy island.”
“Yep.” I slid out of the booth, wanting to put an end to the topic. I tossed my money on the tray and kissed her cheek. “See you later.”
Chapter 5
Kinley
Becky slammed the book shut. “There. And I still don’t understand why anyone in the world would need to know how to solve for X. Who cares what X is when there are so many cool things in the world?”
I finished hanging the crayon resist artwork we’d created to add some color to the otherwise completely depressing room. I knew Katherine had chosen the room with its two small windows and no view because it would help Becky focus on her work. But four blank walls with only two desks and hard chairs made it look like a scene from a Dickens novel. It was hardly an environment to expand and cultivate a young mind.
It was only our third day together, but Becky and I had become fast friends. She was lively and fun. Just as Dax had described, she was the constant ray of sunshine on an otherwise foggy and gray island. Katherine, while
mostly serious and businesslike, seemed to be working hard at making me feel comfortable in her home. I had a cozy room, with a lot of quilts and a fireplace that was filled with wood and lit every night, just like a bedroom from an earlier century. It was perfectly wonderful and comfortable and far more posh than I was used to. I’d grown up in so many different places and I’d slept in hammocks, igloos and tents. One night, we’d even slept in a pyramid after our scatter-brained guide led us in circles. After hours of traversing the many chambers, we’d grown too tired to look for a way out. I figured then that if I could fall asleep in the cold musty tomb haunted with the ancient spirits of the pharaohs, then I could sleep anywhere. Even the austere and somewhat drafty Underwood Manor.
While I was quickly getting to know Becky and her mother, the one person I hadn’t figured out yet was Marcus. His moods changed from minute to minute, friendly and talkative one moment. Silent and grim, the next.
“You promised you’d come see my collection.” Becky popped me out of my musings.
“You’ve already shown me your glass animal collection and your hair band collection and your music CDs.”
She hopped up from the desk, and her hand jutted out. “I have one more collection that I think you’ll really like. And then you promised to tell me the story about when the mummy cursed you in Egypt.”
“I’ll tell you about the mummy’s curse after I get back from King’s Beach. Your mom is writing a shopping list for me.” I took her hand. For the hundredth time that morning I had to tamp down the rush of nerves that threatened to overwhelm me at the thought of flying back to King’s Beach. Only this time, the small, rattling plane wasn’t the reason for the jitters. This time, it was all about the pilot.