Page 92 of Grace on the Rocks

“ButI’malso finally writing.It’sa delicate process.Idon’t want to rock the boat?—”

Speaking of rocking the boat, the tide or waves or what-have-you seemed to be rocking theirs quite a lot as the sky grew dark and the air charged and chilly.

Then a foghorn blared, andGracelooked over her shoulder to see a much larger vessel bearing down on them. “Ohshit.”

“What is it?”Wesleysquinted.

“A ferry.”

“I thought there wasn’t one.”

“Heading to the mainland,Iguess.”

“What should we do?”

“I would say paddle like hell but…”

“Paddles are for chumps,”Weswhimpered.

Grace tried to turn the little boat out of the ferry’s path and choke more speed from the already weary motor as the sea battered and tossed them and the ferry horn blared once more.

“Not howIpictured my own death,”Wesmuttered.

Grace was still trying to think of a snappy retort when a wave from the ferry’s wake smacked the side of their dinghy and she went overboard.

ChapterTwenty-Four

Throughout the morning asBryanandLùcasraced to install the new living room windows, he kept one eye on the darkening sky and an ear out for theAmericans’ disgruntled return.Theywould at least be mollified that he was right about the storm.Maybehe could take them to the castle tomorrow.

The wind picked up and he cast a wary eye out towards the water.They’dbeen gone a long time.Toolong, unless they had found something else to do besides stare at the old pile of stones.

Could be they were just staying out to enjoy fresh air before the storm chased them indoors.Deepin his bones, though, he had a sense of foreboding he couldn’t shake, the kind that haunts you for hours after you wake up from a bad dream.

Perhaps it was only the urgency of getting the house watertight before the weather broke, or the pall of yesterday’s run-in with his neighbors hanging over him, but his stomach churned like the roughening surf as he andLùcasspread caulk around a frame and set the next window in place.

A single raindrop landed on his arm, and he clocked the sky again.Goodtiming that it had waited until the end of the festival—and until they’d gotten the drywall up.

“How soon do you reckonIcan move in?”Lùcasked, out of nowhere.AtBryan’sconfused frown he added, “Wesasked for recommendations on places to stay, soIthought…”

Bryan had rather hoped they’d all moved on from such notions.Hadhe completely and utterly misread the situation?Ifhe could misread that, what else had he gotten wrong?WasGrace, in fact, not attracted to him in the slightest?Kissedhim back because she felt sorry for him?Kissedhim, and then regretted it because she hated him?Orhis face?Orhis beard?

“Umm…CanIstill?Afterthey leave?”Lùcasked, hesitantly.

“ ’Course,”Bryantold him, then suddenly asked, “Whatdo you think of the beard?Keepit or shave it?”

His cousin looked up, head tilted like a pup. “It’sa nice beard,”Lùcsaid, scratching his own baby-faced chin.

Bryan just shook his head and got back to work.

“CanIhave a job in the distillery when it’s done?” the boy asked.

“Do you want a job in a distillery?”

Lùc shrugged, andBryansat back on his haunches, wiping his sweaty forehead on his shoulder.

“When do you leave school?”

“Already did.”

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