Willa made a dash for the mudroom. “Why do you call them sneakers, Mama? Are we gonna be busy sneakin’ around or something? It’s a funny name, Mama. Did your mama call them sneakers, too?”
Sean’s insides turned, just a little, at the irony of Willa’s words. Sneakin’ around. She inhaled. Exhaled to brush the jolted feeling away. “That’s just what we called them when I was your age, is all.” She joined her daughter in the mudroom, pulled on her navy Keds. Willa set in her lap something that seemed to be becoming a more frequent part of her wardrobe. Sean gingerly fingered the costume fairy wings she’d picked up last Halloween.
“Willa, seriously?”
“Yes, Mama! We have to be fairies all the time!” Willa argued. Rather, crooned.
Sean sighed, shoved her arms through the thin elastic bands that went around her shoulders to keep the wings in place, then helped Willa into hers. She imagined if something as simple as wearing a pair of sparkly fairy wings made her daughter happy, she’d gladly do it. They set out, with Willa nonstop chattering about everything her eyes lit upon, her little wings flapping up and down with her movements.
“Now go find a superior pinecone, Willa Jane. One that will withstand a good kicking.”
“Okay, I will!” Willa exclaimed, and took off into the dense yard of pines, scrub oaks and palms. She’d bend, retrieve a pinecone then inspect every single inch of it. Only the most perfect one would do.
Sean stared out at the saltwater property they’d leased for the summer. She liked it. A little worn down, perhaps. Unkempt. The windows needed washing. The grass needed cutting. The inside was a little musty from being closed up for so long. But she felt safe. The furniture was old but sturdy, and the refrigerator kept things icy cold. Perfect, in her eyes.
The small river house nestled in the shade beneath mammoth oak trees drenched in long, wispy Spanish moss. It looked like a picture straight out of a travel magazine. A fairly decent-size porch overlooked the back of the property, which meandered through tall magnolias and scrub palms, leading down to a single wooden dock that jutted out over the marsh and stopped at the river. At high tide, she and Willa could sit on the small wooden landing and dangle their feet into the water. This would be a nice retreat for a while.
“Mama, you’re being so slow,” Willa called ahead of her. “I found the most stuperior pinecone. C’mon! I wanna walk through the graveyard.”
“Willa, again?” Sean replied, catching up to her daughter. They crossed the small two-lane river road and headed down a worn dirt path scattered with bits of seashells that led to an old cemetery they’d come across a few days earlier. “Don’t you think it’s kinda scary?”
“Nope!” Willa announced cheerfully, and having found the perfect pinecone, dropped it on the ground. She gave it a kick, then waited for Sean to take a turn. “It’s the place where all the lightning bugs go. Probably so the ghosts can see at night.”
“It’s also a place where all the mosquitoes go,” Sean replied. “We’re going to get eaten up again.”
“So? Just scratch it!” Will answered. “It’s fun, Mama. Hurry! Use your wings, why don’t ya? You’ll be faster that way!”
Willa always had an answer. For everything. Her five-year-old mind never rested. And she feared nothing.
Completely unlike Sean herself. Afraid of everything.
As she and Willa took turns kicking the pinecone, Sean noticed the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon now, leaving the sky a grayish purple streaked with marigold. The light surrounding them was nothing more than a haze, and she could smell the salty sea. Even with Willa’s chatter and the occasional gull’s screech, Sean heard hundreds of night bugs begin to chirp. Cassabaw Station was a pretty place, a hidden gem that seemed to have wedged itself into another time and not budged. Ahead, Willa waited at the cemetery’s old rusty gate, hopping from foot to foot impatiently. Sean stepped clear of the path, met her daughter at the gate, lifted the old latch and they walked inside.
“There’s one, Mama!” Willa cried out almost immediately. Sean looked, and sure enough, she’d already found a lightning bug. Then another, and another. Willa leaped and giggled as she chased the blinking insects, flitting around like a little firefly herself. Sean stood back and grinned. Savored the small moment of joy in their lives.
“Careful not to step on the graves, Willa,” Sean called.
“I’m careful!” Willa answered. “Come on, chase them with me!”
Sean joined her daughter, and together, they raced, jumped and squealed as they cupped their hands together to capture the illuminated creatures, then peeked through the cracks of their fingers to see each little bug’s bottom light up. She watched Willa and thought how beautiful her daughter was; so young, innocent, carefree and full of love and laughter. Sean suddenly regretted not having a camera to photograph Willa, to catch her with the light just right, making her truly seem like a little woodland sprite. Sean prayed Willa would never know cruelty, possessiveness. Or evil. Only love. Joy.
It was then that Sean heard heavy footsteps on the path. She stopped and whipped around. A dark figure jogged toward them, a neon yellow band around his head the only thing standing out. For a moment, fear strangled her insides, and her gaze darted to her daughter. To the figure, growing closer, then to her daughter again.
He was big—much bigger than she was—and probably faster, too. Even from where she stood, and in the low light of dusk, she could tell he was muscular, fit. Sean didn’t know him, or anyone else on the island. And they were about as isolated as they could be. He was right between her and her daughter.
“Willa, come here!” Sean called out. “We have to go. It’s getting dark fast.”
“Mama, I’m busy!” Willa replied, annoyed. “Just a few more minutes.”
“Willa, now!” Sean demanded, and broke into a run toward her. Sean had to reach Willa. She couldn’t let the jogger get close to her daughter.
As the figure jogged past the cemetery, he spoke. “Evening,” he said in a low voice, with a short nod and a slight Carolina drawl. His longish hair was pulled back, and a beard covered his lower jaw.
He kept on jogging.
Sean kept her eyes on the man but didn’t reply. He ran in the direction she and Willa would return, then disappeared from sight.
Sean’s tension slowly eased, and she turned to Willa. “Just a few more minutes, then.”
“Thanks, Mama,” she cried, and continued chasing the lightning bugs and talking to the ghosts, as if they were all sitting around watching her.
Sean let out a long sigh and turned her stare in the direction the stranger had disappeared. She hated that she allowed such terror. He’d been merely jogging, nothing more. The hazy light fell faster by each passing second, and she wondered briefly if she’d ever, ever stop looking over her shoulder. If the fear would ever leave her alone.
CHAPTER TWO
“MAMA! CAN WE get an ice cream cone? Please?”
Sean shielded her eyes against the sun beaming down as they ambled along Cassabaw’s boardwalk. She shook her head. “You haven’t had dinner yet, Willa.”
“How about a hot dog?” Willa, dressed in a blue tank top and white shorts and sneakers, pointed toward the pier. “From that man with the cart?”
Sean squinted as she glanced at the hot dog vendor and his pushcart with a broad, red-and-white-striped umbrella. “But you need veggies, sweetie.”
Willa crossed her skinny little arms over her chest. “Mama, you don’t get veggies at a hot dog cart.” She clasped her hands together and jumped up and down. “Pleeeeeease?”
“Okay, but double veggies tomorrow night.”
Willa took off toward the vendor, and Sean followed. “Two, please,” she requested. “And a bottle of water.”
“Put lots of ketchup and mustard on mine, please,” Willa requested.
“No onions?” a low voice said from behind.
Sean turned and came face-to-face with the bearded jogger from the cemetery. Well, face-to-face only after she looked way up. He was tall—at least six foot one or two. He wore a kerchief tied around his head, and dark shades covered his eyes. She couldn’t help but notice the size of his biceps, and the sun-kissed color of his skin. He was every bit as mammoth as she’d thought the night before. A force she would be unable to stop, if the situation came down to that. She pushed herself to her full height, edging herself between the stranger and her daughter. In a way, she felt silly. They were in public. Just a small coastal town. More than likely, everyone within a hundred-yard radius knew him. Yet, he unsettled her. So she took caution.
Willa, though, peered around Sean and looked at him, too, and made a face. “Those are stinky,” she said. “Mama, why are you in my way?”
“Willa,” Sean warned. Suddenly, she wanted to be...away. Not in this place. Not with attention drawn to them. It was the last thing she wanted.
“Yeah, but good on a dog,” the stranger said, continuing his conversation with Willa. His voice had a slight rasp. A slightly lilted Carolina accent. “You should try it.” One corner of his mouth lifted, and Sean noticed full lips and straight white teeth. “Best dogs on the Eastern Seaboard.”
“What is an Eastern Seaboard?” Willa asked.
“Pah! Eastern Seaboard. Best dogs of anywhere in world!” the vendor cried out in a broken accent. He seemed like a friendly guy, and clearly was a regular on the beachfront.
“Sorry, Hendrik. Best dogs of anywhere in the world,” the stranger agreed.
“For the lady?” Hendrik asked Sean. She noticed he was polite, too. Respectful. She liked that.
“Just mustard for me, thanks,” she answered the vendor, watching his dark brown eyes assess her closely.
“Are you gonna get stinky onions all over yours?” Willa asked the stranger.
“I am,” he replied. “You?”
“Nah,” Willa replied.
“Willa, what have I told you?” Sean needed to stop the exchange. Willa would talk to a goat if she’d let her. Her daughter had no fear, and that alone put terror into Sean’s heart.
Willa sighed. “Never talk to strangers,” she answered, then looked at the stranger, squinting against the sun. “Mama says child abductors and serial killers and just plain ole weirdos lurk everywhere and that I should be extra extremely careful.”
“Willa,” Sean growled. She glanced at the stranger, wishing she could at least see his eyes. You could tell a lot in a person’s eyes, she’d learned. That grin remained on his face.
“It’s true,” Hendrik added. “Must be careful at all times, little one. Many weirdos.” He handed her the hot dogs, wrapped in red-and-white-checkered waxed paper, and pulled an icy-cold bottle of water from a cooler. “That’s seven American dollars,” he said.
Sean handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Thanks, and keep the change.” She handed Willa her hot dog, and they headed out onto the pier. As they passed the stranger, her daughter, with mouth crammed full of hot dog, gave him a curious eye.
“Bye,” Willa mumbled around the bite she’d just taken.
He merely waved.
Perhaps Sean had misjudged the stranger. In all sincerity, he was obviously a local and friendly with the townspeople. The exchange he’d had with Willa had been...harmless. He was just making casual conversation. Wasn’t he?
As she and Willa wandered the pier filled with locals and tourists fishing along the sides, Sean felt the stranger’s eyes on her. She’d been so...aware of him. Of his presence looming beside her. Yet she hadn’t felt that threat of fear that usually accompanied her initial internal terror. The vendor had seemed to like him. And, for that matter, so had Willa. Still, Sean and her daughter were not locals. They were summer tourists. She had zero plans to get to know anyone on a personal level.
But when Sean turned, the stranger wasn’t lurking and staring at her, as she’d thought. He was gone, and Hendrik had a new set of customers at his cart.
That probably wouldn’t be the last she saw of the stranger, though. This was a small island. They couldn’t stay cooped up in their river house all summer long. And despite her repeated warnings to Willa, her opinionated daughter would undoubtedly make some sort of conversation with the stranger. Who, while somewhat reserved, would converse back. If not him, another stranger. Willa was...verbose in the most charming of ways, to say the very least. People couldn’t help but engage with her. It was nearly unavoidable. But Sean would again try to caution her daughter.
“Willa, sweetie,” she began, as they walked. The sun’s rays warmed her bare arms and legs, and made Willa’s hair shine. “You can’t just talk to any and everybody. You never know who a person really is.”
Willa’s tongue darted out to catch a glob of ketchup on her chin. “That’s why you talk to people, Mama. Then you know who they really are.”
Sean sighed. Willa was too smart for her own good sometimes. “I mean,” she began again, “you never know about people. Sometimes, they could be... I don’t know. Hiding something.”
Willa squinted as she looked at her. “You mean, like hiding candy in their pocket?”
Sean shook her head. They reached the end of the pier. “No, honey. Like...that man you were chatting with. He could be, I don’t know. A stalker!” She knelt down to look Willa eye-to-eye. “He probably isn’t, but that’s the thing. You never know. So you have to be really, really careful about who you talk to. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Willa said slowly. She turned to the water then, chewing on her hot dog, and by the quizzical expression on her face, Willa was turning everything Sean had said over and over in her mind.
Sean could only hope her daughter retained some of her advice.
* * *
A FEW DAYS later Sean and Willa drove into the next town—over the marsh, past the Coast Guard station and over the drawbridge—to shop at the larger grocery store. Sean wanted to stock up so she wouldn’t have to make another trip in for at least a month. Since it was just her and Willa, they didn’t need a lot, but still—certain foods disappeared fast. They walked in through the automatic doors, a blast of cold air greeting them, and Willa raced straight to the produce section. There weren’t too many people in the store, which was fine with Sean. She and Willa mulled over a large display of peaches.
“What, no fairy wings?” a husky voice said from behind her.
Startled, Sean turned, and there he was again. The ponytailed, bearded stranger with a killer smile and a taste for stinky onions. For the first time she noticed his stunning eyes, which, until now, had always been covered by a pair of aviator sunglasses. His eyes were a stormy sea green and filled with caution. And a little amusement. Maybe even curiosity. They seemed honest, those eyes. That much, she could tell.
Willa looked up from her peach selecting. “Mama has to wash them on account that she says they smell funny. She says you’re a stalker.”
Sean muttered under her breath, then flashed the man a nervous smile. Mortification struck Sean at Willa’s inadvertent tattletale of their previous conversation. But what if he really was a stalker? She didn’t know the first thing about him, other than he was a runner who ate hot dogs. “Sorry, we’re in a bit of a hurry.”
“That’s right, a big giant hurry,” Willa added. “We are having a picnic at the end of the dock tonight.” She sniffed a peach. “Mama says we’re dining alfresco. With the dolphins.”
The man’s gaze moved over Sean’s face. He seemed to study her for a moment, intense and inquisitive. “I see. Well, then,” he drawled, “I don’t want to keep you. You two ladies have a good day.”
Sean watched him walk away, pushing a grocery cart, a very male and slightly bowlegged swagger. She noticed he never lingered too long. He said what it was he wanted to say then left. He had noticed their fairy wings, though. Sean pondered that as he wandered down an aisle and out of sight.
Who wouldn’t notice the fairy wings? Maybe she was spending way too much time wondering about it. Quickly, she and Willa picked out their fruits and vegetables. As luck would have it, once they started wandering the aisles, they ran into him again and again. He’d smile each time, give a slight nod, but didn’t say another word. Only watched with those mysterious eyes.
Perhaps he hadn’t liked the fact that she’d warned her daughter he could be a stalker.
Stalkers, though, came in many forms. Many shapes and sizes. Including handsome islanders. They could be poor, or filthy rich. They could have dazzling smiles, kind sea-green eyes or piercing blue ones. They could even have extra-butter movie popcorn in their grocery carts. Or a gallon of chocolate milk. Danger knew no boundaries. It was not prejudiced, either.
Yet, he hadn’t taken a threatening stance. Hadn’t stared too long, or made any comments or gestures that had truly made her uncomfortable. Had he?
Still, one could never be too cautious. And she wasn’t taking any more chances. She’d made that mistake in the past. Never again. Willa was all she had, and she’d keep her safe at all costs.
Even if the stranger really, truly didn’t seem all that dangerous.
Once Sean and Willa reached the river house, unloaded all the groceries and put them away then did their daily reading lesson, Willa watched cartoons while Sean started their dinner. They’d decided on meat loaf, mashed potatoes and peas. After mixing the meat, spices, egg, milk and bread crumbs, Sean shaped the loaf, placed it in one of the new pans they’d purchased and popped it in the oven. She’d started peeling the potatoes when a sudden knock sounded at the door.
They’ve found us!
Panic flashed through her, and she dropped a potato on the floor.
“I’ll get it!” Willa cried out, running to the front door.
“Willa, no!” Sean called out, but too late. Willa had the door open.
And there stood the stranger with startling green eyes.
“Mama! It’s the stalker! How did you know where we lived?” Willa asked him.
He eyed Sean over Willa’s head then looked at her daughter with a serious expression, drawing sun-bleached eyebrows together. “I’m your neighbor,” he said, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I live up the river a ways.”
“That was you on the shrimping boat,” Sean stated, rather than asked. She felt a bit foolish now, when she reflected on her immediate reaction when she’d first seen him on the boat. Drug runners or some other kind of criminal. She and Willa had been sitting on the dock, their toes in the warm salt water, when the big boat appeared around the bend. Fight or flight was her immediate response, and she’d chosen to fly. She’d expected...something else. Not a shrimp fisherman.
He gave a half nod. “With my dad.”
Correction. A family shrimper.
“Are you a pirate?” Willa asked.
One corner of his mouth tipped up. “Do I look like a pirate?”
Willa cocked her head, her dark hair hugging her jaw. “I think you look like a pretend pirate.”
The man met Sean’s gaze. Amusement danced in his eyes. “Is that so?”
Willa’s head bobbed. “Yes, because you have long hair and a beard and your skin is brown. But you don’t have a patch on one eye. Or a parrot on your shoulder.” She sniffed. “Or the right hat.”
“Willa, honestly,” Sean muttered.
He merely smiled. “A parrot and an eye patch, huh?”
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Willa blurted.
The man stuck out his hand. “Well, that’s good advice, then. I’m Nathan Malone. Now we won’t be strangers anymore.”
Willa looked at Sean, and she nodded her approval. Willa shook his hand. “My name is Willa Jane Jacobs, and I’m five and a half.”
“Nice to meet you, Willa,” Nathan said. He glanced again at Sean. Waiting.
“Uh, sorry. Sean. Jacobs,” she said hastily. She could use her manners even though she had no intentions of getting to know her neighbors, or anyone else on the island. She and Willa were here for a short time. Nothing more. The very last thing she wanted was to become friendly. With anyone.
When Nathan held out his hand, she accepted it and gave a hesitant shake. She didn’t hold his hand for long. But enough time, though, to notice how rough it was. Strong. Definitely the hand of a working man. Or a pirate. “Sorry, we were just—I’m in the middle of cooking.” She glanced behind her, to where her potatoes awaited her, then looked back at Nathan.
“Right,” Nathan answered in a slow drawl. “Dining alfresco with the dolphins.” He reached for a foil-covered plate that he’d set on the top step and handed it to Sean. “Since we’re neighbors, my granddad insisted on sending over these cheddar biscuits. He swears they go with anything.” Nathan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Welcome to Cassabaw.”
Sean gave a nervous smile. Oh, God. Hope he’s not waiting around for an invitation to eat with us!
“Hey, Nathan. You wanna dine alfresco with us and the dolphins? Mama, can he?”
Ugh! Willa Jane! Panic nearly choked Sean at Willa’s casual invitation. She didn’t want him—or anyone else—to join them. The less Nathan Malone knew about her and Willa, the better off they would all be. To have dinner with him? That would lead to questions. Answers. Neither of which was Sean willing to do.
* * *
NATHAN WATCHED SEAN’S wide hazel eyes. She all but scrambled to give her daughter an answer. He decided to end her misery.
“Thanks, but I can’t,” he said to Willa. Then he glanced at Sean. He couldn’t help but wonder what her deal was. Had he done something she hadn’t liked? Maybe she was socially awkward. Either way, her eyes had glazed over with what he perceived to be pure panic at the possibility of him sticking around for supper. “I’ve got to head out.” He inclined his head toward the foil-covered plate Sean now gripped so tightly her knuckles were white. “I’ll let you girls get back to it, then.” He threw a smile at Willa. “No longer strangers, right?”
“Right!” Willa said excitedly. “Bye, Nathan!”
Nathan gave a wave and made his way down the narrow, shell-and-sand path that led to the road. He ran the half mile home. As his lungs expanded, contracted and the salty low-tide marsh seeped into his nostrils, his thoughts stayed on the woman and her daughter. He recalled how he’d happened upon them wearing fairy wings, jumping around the cemetery catching fireflies. That image didn’t fit the way she’d panicked at the thought of him eating supper with them. Not that he would have accepted anyway. Even before Willa’s impromptu invitation, it had been pretty evident Sean didn’t want him there.
This newcomer seemed edgy—not usually a characteristic of an off-islander. Typically, they wanted to be involved. Almost...like they wanted to become a local, he guessed. But this pair was different. Cautious. At least, Sean was. Willa, on the other hand, seemed like she was ready to take on any and everything that came her way. What a funny kid. And those fairy wings were... Damn, they were adorable. He couldn’t help but wonder where Willa’s father was. Deadbeat? Or just dead? Had to be, not to take part in their lives. Some men had it made and just didn’t realize it.
Regardless, it wasn’t his place to wonder. Or worry. He’d done his duty. He’d delivered the biscuits and he’d been neighborly.
Jep was waiting for him on the front porch.
Nathan inwardly groaned as he took the steps and sat on the last one, leaning against the pillar. He hadn’t wanted to approach Sean and Willa. Hadn’t wanted to go to their home. He hadn’t wanted to take them those damned biscuits. It’d all been Jep’s idea. It’s the neighborly thing to do, son. Yet despite his reluctance to visit the Jacobses, Nathan’s desire not to cross Jep Malone superseded his desire to keep a distance from women in general. He was polite when he encountered any woman. Speaking to them when they ran into one another in public was one thing. Specifically delivering homemade biscuits to a woman’s home was altogether different. That went beyond politeness and into some murky area that led to connections and relationships. Thing was, his grandfather knew it. Knew it well, too.
