Page 93 of In the Pursuit of Haven
We were going to be okay.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed into the kitchen and got busy doing what dishes I could. That was my contribution to the feast. Jessie reached around me to get the salt, using my waist as an anchor. He was never content to let me stand at the sink in peace. I met his eyes with a smile.
He kissed the side of my cheek and turned back to his impressive omelet. I wasn’t sure how he’d managed to work around the scarce offerings we had in our fridge, but he’d scrounged up enough ingredients to make something amazing. “We’ll need to keep our strength up,” he said. “We’ve got to weave our magic today.”
That wasoneway of putting it. I settled onto the kitchen stool amongst the boxes we’d packed up of Haven’s things. The new lightkeepers were coming in two weeks, and we’d completely abandoned our efforts to get things ready for them. If we’d found our treasure by then, we’d hire a moving crew.
We were on our way to finding this… as long as all the bad things that I thought might happen didn’t come falling down to crush us.
I pushed down the butterflies in my stomach as Jessie slid an omelet in front of me. “You’re not afraid of going into town?” I asked. “We could run into Hunter.”
He shrugged. “The Glover Reenactment Parade will make a perfect cover, and then I’d like to see him catch us on the water. He’s a landlubber.”
“What if he finds any of these Relics before us?”
“That won’t happen.”
“And if it does?”
“These Relics were designed to work together to find the treasure,” he said as he dug into the eggs with his fork, “so… at that point, we’d be dependent on each other.”
That brought me to that phone call. I caught my breath before I went in for the interrogation. “You’re not suggesting we ever team up with that jerk?”
“You think they can ever catch up to us?” He laughed. “We’re way ahead of his crew, so…”
Good, because no matter what I was not letting Hunter come near us… not to mention Divine! “They’re not working with us,” I said firmly.
Jessie nodded.
In a way, he’d answered my fears about that phone call. There was still the matter of the blackmail, but I’d get to that. Eventually…
We finished up our meal, and grabbing our winter gear, headed for Jessie’s boat. Haven’s—as nostalgic as it was—wasn’t the most seaworthy for rougher adventures.
The stiff winter breeze slanting off the silver waters felt refreshing against my cheeks. Jessie had pushed down a thick stocking cap over his dark hair. He was layered in two jackets, his thick flannel over the jean jacket, which was the fisherman’s way. His steady hands guided the boat.
Noticing how rigid I’d turned since my suspicions first started taking form, I turned to Jessie for help. He always knew how to put me at ease, and so I scooted next to him. “Jessie?”
He turned to me with a smile and ran his free hand through my hair, keeping the strands from blowing around us in the wind.
I leaned against him, feeling my tense body relax.
The mainland grew bigger before us. I hoped Jessie was right about the parade providing us cover from Hunter’s men, because it felt strange invading Salem’s coast without the shelter of shadows. We’d left early enough to be in the thick of the action, but late enough that we had no time to mess around. The Witch Museum opened at noon. Before that, we were patting down The Lady for our missing Relic.
Jessie imparted a kiss to the back of my head before releasing me. Already, I could see that the streets were full of parade-goers. The Glover’s reenactment was a big deal here. Drums and pipe whistles echoed over the dock as we tied up Jessie’s vessel. Robert’s houseboat was nowhere to be seen.
At least we were spared that. Unseen eyes felt like they were boring into my back until my skin felt like it was on fire. For all I knew, we could be surrounded by enemies on all sides.
“The Shepherds could be anybody—friends, strangers, that grumpy old man down the street, your cute little aunt Haven…”Scrooby’s words echoed through my memory.“They’re shadows, man. You don’t catch shadows.”
My heart beat unsteadily as we made our way down the dock to the friendly, celebrating crowds. Like Scrooby, the reenactors were decked out in full regimentals, their womenfolk putting on their finishing touches as they prepared them to go into battle against the British.
It was hard not to feel like I’d stepped back in time as we passed a tiny peasant boy with a banner that read, “An Appeal to Heaven.” We sidestepped a farmer, who marched into battle with handmade woolen mittens and a ragged scarf tied around his head as his only protection against the elements. The revolutionaries had wandered these roads full of history, chasing after the dream of freedom.
Had my ancestors been drawn by its siren call like Haven’s were?
We moved as fast as we could through the spectators. They might provide a great shield, but making good time to the Salem Museum in the center of historic downtown was nearly impossible while keeping a low profile.
Slipping through the back streets didn’t help. We were crushed with parade-goers there too. When we actually made it to the museum’s glass doors, I was surprised we’d gotten there before opening hours. The same security guard stood near the entrance, and I waved him down.
