mind lately. “No.”
“Why don’t you bring this along, then? I left in a hurry and forgot my camera. I should at least show the folks back home that I’ve been here.”
She hadn’t wanted to even hold a camera in weeks, the very act taking her right back to that dreadful morning. Still, she’d have to sooner or later. Perhaps it was time. “All right.” She walked him to the door. “I’ll see you in an hour, then.”
“I’ll be ready.” Craig paused, his hazel eyes again serious. “Are we all right, Briana? I apologize again for coming on too strong.”
“We’re fine, really.” From the porch, she watched him stroll off down the street, letting out a big sigh. She trailed her hand along the smooth wood where Slade had sanded. Truth be known, she’d prefer finishing up here instead of sightseeing. But the doctor had warned her against becoming reclusive, which usually led to brooding. He’d advised her to get out among people.
All right, she’d go, Briana thought, walking inside to change. And she’d steer Craig away from difficult topics.
Gramp’s blue Buick scooted along the coastal road with Briana behind the wheel rattling off bits of trivia for her avid audience of one. “Herman Melville based his novel
Moby Dick
on the
Essex,
a Nantucket whaling ship that was rammed by a whale off the coast of South America in the early 1800s. They say that a mate from the
Essex
who kept the ship’s log survived to tell the tale to Melville, who then wrote the book.”
“And that’s a true story?” Craig said, stretching his arm along the seatback, angling his body so he could look at Briana.
“Absolutely. Two other Nantucket ships, the
Beaver
and the
Dartmouth,
were involved in the Boston Tea Party. Lots of history on this island.”
Craig gazed out at the waves rolling endlessly in to shore. “I can see why you like it here.”
With the windows down, Briana let the warm sea air blow her hair about. “It’s beautiful, sure, but that’s not why I love it here. Boston’s beautiful, too, in its own way. And so’s Manhattan. Nantucket’s like a safe haven. Nothing really terrible ever happens here, as it does with alarming frequency on the mainland.” Checking the rearview mirror, she changed lanes to pass a slow-moving van.
Craig was fairly certain she was referring to the shooting. “I doubt that there’s no crime at all, even here, Briana. What happened on the Common was a freak accident. Bobby and Robert were two people in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Briana felt a muscle in her cheek clench. “I’m aware of that. Drive-by slayings are happening more and more frequently. Ugly, violent people are almost everywhere.”
“And you think this place is sacrosanct, that if you stay here, you’ll be safe from violence?”
She gave him a quick, disdainful glance. “Hardly. But here, I’m not reminded daily of all the ugliness that’s out there. Whether it’s true or not,
I feel
safer.”
This was a no-win argument, Craig decided, so he changed the subject. “There’s another lighthouse up ahead. Have you ever been inside one?”
“Yes. Gramp got permission to take me into the one near his house at Brant Point when I was ten or so.” She smiled at the memory. “Steep, winding staircase, all sorts of equipment at the top to track ships and the weather. And a fantastic view.”
“Do you think we could stop and take a picture of this one?”
“Sure. That’s Great Point Lighthouse. We’re on the northern tip of the island.” She glanced down at his Gucci loafers. “I don’t know how close you want to get, but it’s mostly sand and scrub grass around the base. You might ruin your shoes.”
“I’ll manage,” he answered, reaching for her camera case in the back. “Hey, this is heavy. You have more than one camera in here?”
“I’m not even sure what’s in there. I grabbed the case at the last minute when I was leaving Boston and I haven’t looked inside
“Why don’t you bring this along, then? I left in a hurry and forgot my camera. I should at least show the folks back home that I’ve been here.”
She hadn’t wanted to even hold a camera in weeks, the very act taking her right back to that dreadful morning. Still, she’d have to sooner or later. Perhaps it was time. “All right.” She walked him to the door. “I’ll see you in an hour, then.”
“I’ll be ready.” Craig paused, his hazel eyes again serious. “Are we all right, Briana? I apologize again for coming on too strong.”
“We’re fine, really.” From the porch, she watched him stroll off down the street, letting out a big sigh. She trailed her hand along the smooth wood where Slade had sanded. Truth be known, she’d prefer finishing up here instead of sightseeing. But the doctor had warned her against becoming reclusive, which usually led to brooding. He’d advised her to get out among people.
All right, she’d go, Briana thought, walking inside to change. And she’d steer Craig away from difficult topics.
Gramp’s blue Buick scooted along the coastal road with Briana behind the wheel rattling off bits of trivia for her avid audience of one. “Herman Melville based his novel
Moby Dick
on the
Essex,
a Nantucket whaling ship that was rammed by a whale off the coast of South America in the early 1800s. They say that a mate from the
Essex
who kept the ship’s log survived to tell the tale to Melville, who then wrote the book.”
“And that’s a true story?” Craig said, stretching his arm along the seatback, angling his body so he could look at Briana.
“Absolutely. Two other Nantucket ships, the
Beaver
and the
Dartmouth,
were involved in the Boston Tea Party. Lots of history on this island.”
Craig gazed out at the waves rolling endlessly in to shore. “I can see why you like it here.”
With the windows down, Briana let the warm sea air blow her hair about. “It’s beautiful, sure, but that’s not why I love it here. Boston’s beautiful, too, in its own way. And so’s Manhattan. Nantucket’s like a safe haven. Nothing really terrible ever happens here, as it does with alarming frequency on the mainland.” Checking the rearview mirror, she changed lanes to pass a slow-moving van.
Craig was fairly certain she was referring to the shooting. “I doubt that there’s no crime at all, even here, Briana. What happened on the Common was a freak accident. Bobby and Robert were two people in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Briana felt a muscle in her cheek clench. “I’m aware of that. Drive-by slayings are happening more and more frequently. Ugly, violent people are almost everywhere.”
“And you think this place is sacrosanct, that if you stay here, you’ll be safe from violence?”
She gave him a quick, disdainful glance. “Hardly. But here, I’m not reminded daily of all the ugliness that’s out there. Whether it’s true or not,
I feel
safer.”
This was a no-win argument, Craig decided, so he changed the subject. “There’s another lighthouse up ahead. Have you ever been inside one?”
“Yes. Gramp got permission to take me into the one near his house at Brant Point when I was ten or so.” She smiled at the memory. “Steep, winding staircase, all sorts of equipment at the top to track ships and the weather. And a fantastic view.”
“Do you think we could stop and take a picture of this one?”
“Sure. That’s Great Point Lighthouse. We’re on the northern tip of the island.” She glanced down at his Gucci loafers. “I don’t know how close you want to get, but it’s mostly sand and scrub grass around the base. You might ruin your shoes.”
“I’ll manage,” he answered, reaching for her camera case in the back. “Hey, this is heavy. You have more than one camera in here?”
“I’m not even sure what’s in there. I grabbed the case at the last minute when I was leaving Boston and I haven’t looked inside
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