pal. Take the food and shut up. Now get going. Go drink some coffee and then protect and defend. We’re all glad to have you back here on Summer Island. I know it’s a little awkward for you. I also know that there are people with long memories who may not be too welcoming. But give them time. You could make a good life for yourself here, Rafe.”
Then Jilly shook her head, looking embarrassed. “Who am I to be giving advice? I’ve been the biggest screwup on Summer Island for years. So forget what I just said. You can make your own decisions just fine.” She frowned, glancing toward the stairs. “By the way, did you see Livie? Or is she still asleep?”
Rafe picked up his coat. “Nope, didn’t see her. She’s probably still resting.” The lie came too easily. But at one time Rafe had been a very good liar. “Thanks again for the food, Jilly. It was a good day.” He frowned and looked back at her. “I’m going to be pretty busy over the next month. I’ve got two training sessions in Portland, and I’ll be working double shifts for a while. I think—well, I won’t be around very much. I’ll call you if I get some time off. Then I could help Walker finish his work. But it won’t be for a few weeks. Tell him...I’m sorry about that.”
Jilly crossed her arms slowly. “This seems a little hasty. Is everything okay?”
“Just fine. The new duty schedule was changed, that’s all. I don’t want to make promises and have you counting on me,” he said quietly.
The words seemed to hang.
Rafe felt the weight of them—and the shame. When he was younger, he had made promises. People had counted on him, and he’d let them down.
He was never going back to that way of life.
CHAPTER NINE
A S THE DAYS passed, Olivia’s enforced rest felt like torture. She found distraction in her pattern sketches and the task of helping Jilly to catalogue the last of the yarn shipments for the new shop. But anything strenuous was still impossible.
Her one bright light in the day was the afternoon Harvest Fair, one of the most popular events on the island. In addition to a chili cook-off, there were contests for home-brewed cider and molded-gelatin desserts, along with a pie-eating contest (all entries made using local apples, of course).
Olivia was scheduled to judge the wildly popular book-costume contest. All costume entries had to be based on children’s books that had won either the prestigious Newbery or Caldecott medals. Olivia was to choose a winning costume based on originality, design and authenticity to the original book.
Olivia thought that Jilly seemed distracted as they drove back to her house before the fair. When they pulled up to the front door, Olivia frowned to see a dozen boxes and containers stacked on the porch.
“I haven’t ordered anything.” Olivia carefully walked up the front steps and stared at the plastic containers. Each one held food—chocolate cupcakes, handmade bread and walnut scones. Each container was marked with a different label and different handwriting.
Olivia didn’t move, feeling a lump press at her throat. She realized that this was a way of saying thank you, offered by people whose lives had been affected by her moment of courage in the storm. They had responded by dropping off what they could share to show their thanks.
She picked up a loaf of bread wrapped in cellophane and tied with red ribbons. There were no names on any of the containers. All she found were simple, handwritten notes of thanks for the thing that she had done.
Jilly stood beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad they did this, Livie. They owe you. We all do. Don’t ever downplay how much courage that took.”
Olivia forced a crooked smile. “It was mostly desperation. But this is way more food than I can eat. Why don’t you and Walker take the cupcakes? You can share them with Grace. She and Noah are supposed to be back tonight from San Francisco, aren’t they?”
“It will
Then Jilly shook her head, looking embarrassed. “Who am I to be giving advice? I’ve been the biggest screwup on Summer Island for years. So forget what I just said. You can make your own decisions just fine.” She frowned, glancing toward the stairs. “By the way, did you see Livie? Or is she still asleep?”
Rafe picked up his coat. “Nope, didn’t see her. She’s probably still resting.” The lie came too easily. But at one time Rafe had been a very good liar. “Thanks again for the food, Jilly. It was a good day.” He frowned and looked back at her. “I’m going to be pretty busy over the next month. I’ve got two training sessions in Portland, and I’ll be working double shifts for a while. I think—well, I won’t be around very much. I’ll call you if I get some time off. Then I could help Walker finish his work. But it won’t be for a few weeks. Tell him...I’m sorry about that.”
Jilly crossed her arms slowly. “This seems a little hasty. Is everything okay?”
“Just fine. The new duty schedule was changed, that’s all. I don’t want to make promises and have you counting on me,” he said quietly.
The words seemed to hang.
Rafe felt the weight of them—and the shame. When he was younger, he had made promises. People had counted on him, and he’d let them down.
He was never going back to that way of life.
CHAPTER NINE
A S THE DAYS passed, Olivia’s enforced rest felt like torture. She found distraction in her pattern sketches and the task of helping Jilly to catalogue the last of the yarn shipments for the new shop. But anything strenuous was still impossible.
Her one bright light in the day was the afternoon Harvest Fair, one of the most popular events on the island. In addition to a chili cook-off, there were contests for home-brewed cider and molded-gelatin desserts, along with a pie-eating contest (all entries made using local apples, of course).
Olivia was scheduled to judge the wildly popular book-costume contest. All costume entries had to be based on children’s books that had won either the prestigious Newbery or Caldecott medals. Olivia was to choose a winning costume based on originality, design and authenticity to the original book.
Olivia thought that Jilly seemed distracted as they drove back to her house before the fair. When they pulled up to the front door, Olivia frowned to see a dozen boxes and containers stacked on the porch.
“I haven’t ordered anything.” Olivia carefully walked up the front steps and stared at the plastic containers. Each one held food—chocolate cupcakes, handmade bread and walnut scones. Each container was marked with a different label and different handwriting.
Olivia didn’t move, feeling a lump press at her throat. She realized that this was a way of saying thank you, offered by people whose lives had been affected by her moment of courage in the storm. They had responded by dropping off what they could share to show their thanks.
She picked up a loaf of bread wrapped in cellophane and tied with red ribbons. There were no names on any of the containers. All she found were simple, handwritten notes of thanks for the thing that she had done.
Jilly stood beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad they did this, Livie. They owe you. We all do. Don’t ever downplay how much courage that took.”
Olivia forced a crooked smile. “It was mostly desperation. But this is way more food than I can eat. Why don’t you and Walker take the cupcakes? You can share them with Grace. She and Noah are supposed to be back tonight from San Francisco, aren’t they?”
“It will
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