Page 110 of In the Pursuit of Haven
Apparently the declaration was enough to make Abby laugh through her sour mood. “Oh wow, remember when Dad took us there? It was about the only time he wasn’t drunk out of his mind. What was going on then? 12 Steps? Maybe he just forgot the booze. Anyway, we named some rocks over there. What did we call ours? Aquaman and Little Mermaid—yeah! By the way, Roxy… my rock was named Aquaman. That should tell you how much someone was crushing on Little Mermaid.”
I let out a breath after she’d outed her brother. He grinned reluctantly into his hand as she talked, but I could see that these memories actually broke through the storm of disappointment that had clouded his eyes, especially when Abby mentioned how their father was sober enough to show them how to pitch a tent. A clearheaded Peter Crabb was as rare as this year’s mild winter.
“You taking Roxy to Bride’s Rock?” Abby teased.
Jessie’s cheeks actually went red, and he avoided my eyes. “Some things I’ll never tell you.” He hung up on his giggling sister.
I sat up, readjusting myself on his lap. “Bride’s Rock?”
He shifted in embarrassment. “It’s just the name of one of the rocks over there, but uh… we’d better hurry to Tinker’s if we’re going to beat this storm.”
I nodded and drew reluctantly away from the warmth of his strong embrace. I could use a change of pace with a peaceful jaunt through Jessie’s childhood memories.
After our last string of failures, we should try to end the day on a high note.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Our little boat tossed around in the water on our way to Tinker’s Island. The waves were getting rougher out here, and we were hitting an especially tricky patch. The salty spray of the ocean doused me from the side, and I let out a cry.
More ocean was getting on me than on the windshield.
And no way was I letting any soak my roast beef sandwich! Jessie had packed the good kind with thick cuts of meat and fresh veggies slathered between two generously sliced pieces of bread that looked homemade.
I held up my arm like a shield to protect my lunch like Gollum with “my precious.”
“You okay?” Jessie shouted over at me. His gaze was warm, though it did little for my freezing skin.
“Never been better!” At least it woke me up—that and chowing down on the savory goodness of this gourmet sandwich.
There was nothing like emerging alive from a viper cave that got the appetite going. Even though it was late afternoon, the coming storm was making the winter sky darker than normal. Usually, Jessie was an experienced enough sailor to know when to call it quits, but we were running on very little sleep, adrenaline, and a desperation to beat Hunter to these Relics.
Despite all our troubles, Tinker’s was a beautiful wooded area with high crags, sandy beaches, cute cottages, and a history rich with stories of shipwrecks, marooned sailors caught in snowstorms, rum runners using the island as a hideout, daring rescues, and a romantic and enthusiastic reverend naming rocks after his visitors.
Jessie glanced over at me while I tried to eat away my feelings after our latest setbacks.
My husband pointed to my cheek. “You saving that for later?”
That pulled another smile from me. Some of my delicious sandwich had ended up there, had it? “Yeah,” I joked. “What of it?”
He reached over and rubbed his thumb across my jaw, and let it linger. Unless I was the messiest eater in the world, I couldn’t have spilledthatmuch on myself, and still he took his time fussing over me. “You ready for this?”
Besides a little motion sickness at the thought of hitting another dead end, sure!
I could see our last two failures weren’t leaving Jessie as much as he was pretending. His jaw was tight. After finding some of the Relics so quickly, we’d both harbored false hope of solving this all in a matter of days.
One Relic was in the hand of a murderer, another was in Hunter’s crazed possession, and our last was at the bottom of the ocean!
As we neared Tinker’s, I recognized its unusual shape. The island was really two small islands connected by a strip of land that lay bare in low tide. I’d thought at first that Tinker’s was named after traveling salesmen who went door to door mending metal… which I still didn’t discount, but the more common story around here was that it was named after the tinker mackerel that fishermen caught at its shores.
A deep channel ran between the island and Marblehead Neck, and I knew from experience that the water was actually teeming with striped bass and lobster. I could easily see the neck’s shore from where we were—a good thing for those who’d been marooned on this island at different times in history, because they’d been easily spotted from land.
“Ruth always bragged about having a place here,” Jessie shouted over the wind.
My ears perked up. I still wasn’t ready to let go of my theory that her family was involved in this somehow.
I wondered which of these boating sheds or fishermen cottages belonged to her family. The shingled sides of the ten structures were painted brick red or timber brown. Many of the shelters were on stilts to keep out flooding, though I was surprised by the abundance of windows with these rough waters. With no running water or electricity, they’d be deserted this time of year.
“What’s this island’s MO?” Jessie asked, ducking his head from another blast of cold water.
