The Way Home (13 page)

“I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I was thinking of going up to Newburyport. Or maybe into Boston. Or I could just hang out at the beach here.”

“I don't think you've seen the new beachfront on the north side of the island yet, where Avery opened her restaurant,” Claire said. “There's a new boardwalk and a ferry that crosses to Newburyport.”

“I thought of that. But I sort of miss the city. I miss my friends.”

He did get a lot of calls and text messages. Claire could see he had not lost touch with his buddies back in Boston. She didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. If he wanted to go into the city and see his friends, that was his decision.

“Let me know what you decide. I have to do some shopping in town today. I can give you a lift to the station.”

“Cool. I'll go check the train schedule.”

So that was that. He would go to Boston. And she would say a prayer that he wouldn't get into any trouble there.

A short time later, Claire pulled into the train station in Cape Light. She parked near the ticket house. “Give me a call later and tell me what train you're taking back. I'll pick you up. No need to waste money on a taxi.”

“That's okay. I'll be fine. I don't want to bother you. I might be late. I might go down to Fenway with my friends and try to scalp some tickets to a ball game.”

That plan didn't sound too bad, she thought. Better than standing around a bar, drinking beer.

“All right. If you change your mind, let me know.”

Claire pulled away from the station, she couldn't help wondering if she had said good-bye to him for good. She had always worried about Jamie. There was always so much uncertainty in his life,

Neither fret nor worry,
she scolded herself with a scrap of scripture.
He's a young man, practically still a teenager, and he needs to see his friends, to blow off some steam, have a little fun.
The inn was a haven to her, but it must seem like living in a stuffy museum to Jamie, she realized. At least some of the time.

She vowed to put Jamie out of her mind for the rest of the day and not to trouble herself with what he might be doing in Boston. That wouldn't help either one of them.

God, please help me to put this aside today
, she silently prayed on her drive back to the island.
I know that what Jamie does on his day off—where he goes and who he sees—is none of my business. But please guide and protect him. Please help him make good choices.

Keeping her mind off Jamie was hard but not impossible. She and Liza had gotten used to having Jamie around and now, with their extra worker gone, Claire found herself busy throughout the day, hardly having a moment to fret about Jamie's whereabouts.

When it was time to serve dinner, Claire thought he might call at the last minute, saying he was at the station. But she and Liza ate together in the kitchen at the usual time.

“I guess Jamie must be enjoying his day off,” Liza said as she helped herself to some salad. “He's been working so hard, he really deserved it. Have you heard from him?”

“No, I haven't.” Claire spread some butter on a roll. “I told him to call if he needed a lift from the station, but he said he'd didn't want to bother us. I have a feeling he might be late.”

“There are cabs at the station all night. But I hope he doesn't get in too late. He'll be dragging tomorrow, and we have a lot of guests coming in Thursday. We'll need him to help us clean and bring down a few cots.”

Among the many other jobs he was needed for,
Claire added silently. Jamie had been doing a good job. Well, most of the time. She did occasionally find him texting or talking on his phone when he should have been giving his full attention to some chore. But he was young, and friends were important.

Was he entirely responsible? No, not exactly. But she didn't have any reason to think he would not act responsibly on his day off. No concrete reason. Just a niggling little doubt.

“Claire? You're so quiet. Is something wrong?”

Claire shook her head. “Not at all. You're right. Jamie's worked hard. I hope he was able to get into the ball park. He really loves baseball.”

“So I noticed.” Liza smiled then took a bite of her dinner: broiled cod with lemon butter and a toasted pine nut, herb, and cracker-crumb topping. “This fish is good.”

Liza was tired and went up to her room soon after dinner. Claire took her knitting out to the porch as she usually did. She sat out for a few hours, until it was nearly eleven. She told herself that she wasn't waiting for Jamie, but in her heart she knew that wasn't true.

When she was too tired to knit anymore or even sit without feeling her eyes close, she got up and went inside. She went into the sitting room to turn out the light but turned on the TV instead, to check the ball game. Perhaps it had gone into extra innings, and Jamie couldn't stand to leave before the game ended. But when she found the official channel of the Red Sox, she learned that the team wasn't even in town today. They were in Texas and had already lost to the Rangers.

He probably didn't realize that this morning. He was so excited to get to go down to Fenway. He didn't mean to purposely mislead me
.

Claire wondered then if she should call him, to see if he had caught the last train. If he hadn't caught the train at eleven thirty, he would have to wait until one
A.M
., or even later.

But I'm not his mother,
she reminded herself. Even most mothers wouldn't call a young man that age to check on him. That was going too far.

She wondered if it would seem too obvious if she was out on the porch knitting when he returned. It might look as if she had been waiting up for him.

But you sit there every night. That's your habit. You don't have to worry so much what he thinks,
she reminded herself.
Go out and knit if you feel like it.

So she did and sat in the wicker chair and knit until her eyes closed. She had no idea of how much time had passed when she felt someone gently shake her awake.

“Claire? You must be cold out here. It's late.”

She opened her eyes to find Avery smiling down at her. “Oh . . . Avery . . . I fell asleep. What time is it?”

Avery glanced at her watch. “It's almost one.”

“Just getting home from the café? Did you have a good night?” Claire picked up her knitting from her lap and slipped it into her tote bag.

“Yes, we did. Much better than last Tuesday. We did sort of a theme thing to bring more customers in. Two entrees for the price of one. Not that original, but people seemed to like it. And it won't be forever—just until our name gets around a little.”

“That sounds very smart. I'm sure Café Peregrine will be the talk of the town in no time.” Claire stood and smoothed her dress. Could Jamie have returned and not woken her? As much as she hoped that had happened, she was pretty sure it was not the case.

Avery and Claire went inside together. Claire locked the door. Jamie had a key. Well, he was given one. She hoped he hadn't forgotten it.

They walked up the stairs together and said good night. Avery went into her room on the second floor, and Claire started up the next flight to the third.

* * *

A
VERY
felt so tired, she was tempted to sleep in her clothes. But of course, she would never do that. She needed a shower to wash away the cooking smells and hot water to relax her sore muscles. Her back hurt and so did her biceps, from stretching out all the pizzas the night before. But she was satisfied so far with their new marketing ideas. Business was definitely picking up.

Before heading for the shower, she checked her e-mail. There was a note from her sister and she quickly read it:

Hi, Avery, Hope all is going well at the café. So sorry we haven't been able to get up to Massachusetts for a visit. I've been crazy busy at work. But am definitely taking off a few days around the Fourth of July. Mom and I will come to your island the Friday before the holiday and stay for the weekend. Can you speak to the woman who runs the inn where you're staying and get a room for us? Can't wait to see the café. Mom is excited, too. Call when you have a chance—we'll iron out the plans.

Love, Christine

Avery glanced at her calendar. June 29? That wasn't that long from now, she thought dismally. Yes, business had picked up the last two nights, but she had no guarantee that her other theme nights would work as well. She wanted her sister and mother to see a thriving, jumping restaurant. Not a struggling little enterprise, run on a shoestring . . . and forced to run theme nights.

Avery felt so bad she wanted to cry. And she did weep a little, alone in the shower. But once she came out and dried herself off, she realized she was mainly just very tired.

What was it her mother always used to say?
Things will look different in the morning.

She certainly hoped so. She shut off her light and crawled into bed, too exhausted to worry about another thing.

* * *

C
LAIRE
normally fell asleep after reading the Bible for a few minutes and shutting off the light. But she felt wide awake tonight, her eyes flying open and peering into the darkness at every sound outside, listening for Jamie to come home.

She wasn't sure what time it was when she finally drifted off. Her sleep was deep and dreamless. But she woke up at her usual time, half past six, feeling rested and alert.

She quickly dressed and walked down to Jamie's room. The door stood open. The bed was neatly made and the room looked just as it had after he left yesterday, his big sneakers side-by-side near the closet and a T-shirt hanging over a chair.

He had not come home last night.

Claire felt a cold ache in her chest. She hoped that nothing bad had happened to him. An accident or maybe he'd gotten sick. He could be in a hospital somewhere right now . . .

She stopped herself.
He's probably fine. He's managed to take care of himself all these years.
She was letting her imagination run wild. Making excuses for him, mostly. He was probably stretched out on some friend's couch, sleeping off a late night. He would wander back in his own good time.

Claire went down to the kitchen and turned on the coffeemaker. She began to assemble the ingredients for breakfast but felt too upset to continue, her hands shaking as she cracked an egg.

She decided to take a walk on the beach. Liza wouldn't be up for at least an hour. There was no reason to wake her with this news. Maybe Jamie would be back soon, in time for work this morning.

Claire went out the back door and crossed the street. She took her time making her way down the long flight of wooden stairs that led to the beach. The wooden steps were still damp and a little slippery. The sun was low and wisps of fog lay low on the landscape, like long white veils, floating on the meadow of the Gilroys' farm next door and along the shoreline.

She left her shoes at the bottom of the stairs and walked over the sand to the water. She hadn't thought to bring a jacket or sweater. The air was still cool and damp, the sky a little overcast. She felt the mist on her face, felt it dampening her hair.

Liza would be upset if Jamie didn't come back soon. She might even fire him, Claire realized. Not that she could blame her. Unless he had a very good reason for this.

What did they say in the judicial system—innocent until proven guilty? Her faith advised the same perspective. Well, she would try to think of Jamie that way, though her heart felt heavy with dread.

She had not gone very far when a figure emerged from the mist, a man dressed for fishing, in a canvas hat with a floppy brim, a khaki green vest covered with pockets, and hip-high rubber waders. He was tugging back the line from his fishing pole, concentrating on reeling it in smoothly. Claire stepped around him.

Then he turned and glanced over his shoulder. “Claire, is that you?” Reverend Ben asked. “You're out early this morning.”

“I might say the same about you, Reverend. Early bird gets the halibut?”

He laughed. “I'm trying for striped bass, but that's the basic theory.”

He finished reeling in his line and grabbed the hook that was dangling at the end. “It's a wonderful time out here. Not a soul around . . . except for a few other crazy fishermen.”

“I don't get out on the beach much in the morning. I'm usually too busy. But the inn is almost empty this morning, and I . . . I needed the exercise.”

Reverend Ben gave her a skeptical look. “With your schedule, I doubt that. But walking along the ocean is a wonderful way to calm the soul. I've even heard about walking meditation, though I never tried it.”

“That sounds interesting. I just try to focus on all the beauty down here. That's enough to meditate upon for me.”

Ben laughed. “Very true . . . How is Jamie doing?” he asked. “Is the job going well?”

That was just like Reverend Ben. Even if you didn't want to unburden yourself, he had an uncanny knack for asking the one question that would make it impossible to avoid a troubling subject.

Claire stared down at the wet sand; her bare feet were now buried up to her ankles. She felt stuck, in more ways than one.

“Jamie has been doing a good job. Liza and I both agree on that. But yesterday was his first day off. He went into the city and hasn't come back yet.” She looked up at the minister. “He may have a perfectly good excuse. But probably not,” she said simply. “I'm very upset about it, Reverend. I think when Liza wakes up and finds out, she might fire him. And I feel so . . . responsible. I talked her into hiring him. She wouldn't have taken the chance otherwise.”

Reverend Ben sighed and scratched his forehead, his hat slipping backward. “‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can—'”