Page 28 of The Sea-Mist Cottage Inn
We proceeded in quiet for a mile or two while I had my guilt trip and finally arrived at the understanding that I hadn’t really doused his good mood. The loneliness and the giddiness were two sides of the same thing: he’d been lonely since Micah’s death and everything that followed. He’d lost almost everything, including, for the most part, his lifelong friends, who now would exist for him only online. He’d been giddy because high schoolmeant hope—new friends, new activities, the real restart of his own life. Replacing the things he’d lost.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” I said softly. “I shouldn’t have teased you about that.”
Finally, he turned from the window and looked at me. “It’s okay. Bailey is pretty. But the way you asked ... I don’t know how I feel about all that stuff yet. I don’t want to think about it yet.”
“And that is absolutely, one-hundred percent, perfectly fine. Think about it when you’re ready, figure that stuff out when you’re ready. Decide what will make you happy. And I will shut up about it until you want to talk. Deal?”
“Deal. Thanks.”
Yeah, there was a rough patch in the middle there, but overall I think that was a parenting win.
TWELVE: Intrusion
“Is that the wifi guy?!” Wyatt asked eagerly.
I considered the dark grey Lexus parked before our cabin as I pulled up beside it and parked. “The wifi guy is supposed to be here between three and six. And I think he’ll be driving a work truck or a van.”
I didn’t like that Lexus. It was empty, and there didn’t appear to be anyone around, like waiting at the door, for instance. I’d made a few appointments for quotes on repairs to Cottage 12, but the first of those wasn’t due until the day after tomorrow.
I suppose the smart thing for a woman alone with her teenage child to do in that situation would have been to pull back out, go somewhere safe, and call the cops. Or at least grab a big strong friend to come back with them and make sure everything was okay. However, the smart thing didn’t occur to me in that moment. Maybe I’d been without friends or any kind of real support long enough that I no longer could imagine having anyone to turn to.
Anyway, even if I had thought of it, who would I have asked? Jessie was out of town. Catherine was elderly. Neither was big or strong. Roman was pretty big and strong, but even if I had thought of that, I think I’d have been too embarrassed to seriously consider running to him for help because there was a scary luxury sedan parked in my lot.
Ergo, I did not pull out of the parking lot and go looking for help. I turned to my son and said, “Wait here and lock the doors. I’m going to go around and check. I’ll leave the keys, in case you need them.”
He was only fifteen and didn’t have his permit yet, but I will confess to some possible minor law-breaking in letting him practice driving the Golf around a few parking lots while weheaded west. The Golf was a manual transmission, and that was a dying skill I wanted him to have, so when he asked if he could practice, I’d said yes.
He hadn’t been on the road yet, but if he needed to make a quick getaway, I was confident he could manage it.
“Mom, no,” he said, looking at me with wide eyes.
“I have to, bud. I’m going to get the bat out of the hatch. Then lock the doors.”
Before he could say more, I got out and went to the back. I’d put Micah’s steel alloy softball bat in the hatch as protection during our trip, and I’d left it in there when we unpacked because it seemed like a safe thing to keep around.
And before you say something about how it should have been a gun, let me cut that off at the knees. I am not okay with guns. I do not feel safer with a gun. I am a teacher in the twenty-first century. I’ve been through routine active-shooter drills with my students. I know teachers who have been in real active-shooter situations. I know this for a fact: no one is safe when a gun is close.
When I had the bat in my hands and closed the hatch, Wyatt was standing beside the car.
I gave him my I-meant-what-I-said look. “I told you—”
“I’m not waiting in the car,” he said, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I’m not letting you go looking by yourself.”
My little boy who thought he had to be my grown-up protector. “Wy—”
“I’mnot, Mom. If it’s a bad guy, we run and come back together.”
I could tell by his expression that if I made him get back in the car, he’d just come after me as soon as I walked away, and that could make more trouble. Besides, nothing about my parenting style has ever been about forcing my will on him. Iopened the hatch, lifted the bit of floor that covered the spare, and got the tire iron out.
“Just in case,” I said, handing it to him. “If there’s trouble, I want you to fucking run, you understand?”
He nodded. I closed the hatch, and we headed up to the cabin together. “Stay behind me,” I instructed, pushing him back. That, at least, he didn’t fight me on.
The front door was locked and showed no signs of anybody trying to force it open. I went around the porch to the side, checking all the windows. The Lexus driver wasn’t in our house.
Next we searched the guest cottages and the rest of the property, skulking around with our weapons raised. I was starting to feel woozy from the adrenaline.
But there was nothing. Each cottage we checked was closed and as we’d left it. Our shared glances got increasingly confused as we went.
