The Cottage at Glass Beach by Heather Barbieri Page A

time. They would say—
    â€œIs he following us?” Annie gasped.
    Ella looked over her shoulder, nearly tripping over a stone. “I don’t see him. I think we’re in the clear.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean he isn’t there. He might be hiding, like we were.”
    â€œHe’s a grown-up. He doesn’t have to hide.” She paused, thinking of her father, who seemed to be hiding quite a lot lately—from the reporters, even from them. Too many questions he didn’t want to answer. Why are you leaving? Where are you going? Is it true? What they’re saying? Why can’t you tell me? Why can’t you stay? Do you love her more than us? His eyes shiny with tears before he turned away abruptly, the car gliding into the night.
    â€œWe’re not going to get in trouble, are we?”
    â€œNo,” Ella said, though she didn’t know for sure. “We didn’t do anything. It’s not as if there was a No Trespassing sign. The shack is Aunt Maire’s. She’s didn’t tell us we couldn’t go there.”
    â€œJust because someone doesn’t say so specifically doesn’t mean—”
    â€œStop worrying. Let’s check on the boat, okay?” Ella said.
    Annie brightened. The coracle was her favorite subject. She climbed in, ready to navigate imaginary seas. “Today we’re traveling along the horn of Africa.”
    â€œBetter set a new course. We don’t want to risk being taken by pirates.”
    â€œI am a pirate.”
    â€œYou weren’t yesterday.”
    â€œWell, I am now. Look out. Cannons!” She held fast against the onslaught.
    â€œIt’s not the same as being on the water,” Ella said. “It would be better if we had paddles, if we could go out there.” The ocean shimmered.
    â€œWe could ask Mama to get paddles at Scanlon’s. Or maybe Aunt Maire has some.”
    â€œIf we told them, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it? They wouldn’t let us go on the water. At least Mama wouldn’t. She’d want to come along.”
    They heard footsteps. “Hide!” Ella whispered.
    They lay flat and held their breath.
    Too late. The shipwrecked man peered down at them. “Permission to come aboard,” he said. He wore a pair of baggy shorts and a T-shirt that didn’t suit him, from the shack, perhaps. The material stuck to his back, his skin still wet. A piece of seaweed clung to his neck.
    â€œGranted.” Annie scooted over to make room.
    â€œDenied.” Ella frowned. “There isn’t room.” He was a stranger, and a strange one at that. “I’m the captain.”
    â€œYou run a tight ship.”
    â€œI have to.” Somebody had to keep an eye on things.
    â€œYou’re well suited to the job.”
    Was he making fun of her? She couldn’t tell.
    â€œMy name is Owen Kavanagh,” he said. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”
    â€œYou remembered your name.”
    â€œI did, and little else.”
    â€œI’m Annie, and this is my sister, Ella.”
    â€œThank you for helping me last night.”
    â€œAre you feeling better?” Annie asked.
    â€œMy head still hurts a bit.”
    â€œAnd yet you’re up and about.” Ella regarded him closely. Something wasn’t adding up.
    â€œI am. It’s hard to stay down in such a beautiful place as this. I’m about to go fishing; it’s one of the best spots.” He indicated the rocks.
    â€œYou can tell already?” Annie asked.
    â€œI have a sense for these things,” he replied. “You heading out?”
    â€œWe don’t have any paddles,” Annie said.
    â€œThere are a couple at the fishing shack. I could get them for you, if you want,” he offered.
    Ella hesitated. She didn’t want him to do her any favors, but the temptation was too great. “Okay,” she said, grudgingly.
    â€œYou