The Shucker's Booktique Page 6
She used to despise the first day of the work week—it meant slogging to work only to be ordered around by her useless boss. Once he’d asked her to piece together a receipt he’d accidentally ripped up so he could claim it on his expenses. Another time, he’d called her from his friend’s office on the third floor and asked her to fetch a printer cartridge. When she arrived, he’d pointed to the printer and then asked if she “knew what to do.” She wanted to throttle him, but bit back her natural response. Like so many other things in her life, she put up with his behavior.
Maybe she would’ve fought her mom more about coming here if she’d loved her job; but despite the great pay and working her butt off to land the position, she hated it.
Willa rolled over in bed and stretched, enjoying the release of tension. The birds sang their sweet songs outside, and a gentle breeze moved through the tree branches, rustling the leaves.
A calm day, already warming under the summer sun, and in complete contrast to the raging storm of emotions flooding her mind. Fear, confusion, disbelief, and yes, lust, flickered through her body as last night’s events resurged.
She would’ve been waking up beside Lon had everything had gone well. But it hadn’t. She’d downed three cups of tea last night trying to calm her nerves; every tap of a branch, every howl of wind or crash of thunder, made her wonder if an army of water sprites had arrived to kill her fairy-style. Now that she knew the truth, would she be safe?
But nobody had come, and with heavy limbs, she’d finally clambered up to bed and flopped face first onto her soft pillow and cushy mattress. By that point, the fear had dissipated, and she’d accepted what really upset her.
Lon had told her aunt the truth, but not her. Despite dishing her heart out the whole night and a strong connection defying their limited time together, he’d kept his secret.
Good enough to kiss, but not trust. That stung.
Although her brain’s survival instincts kicked in sometimes, Lon didn’t give her a dangerous vibe. He gave her something entirely different, and like an idiot, she’d fallen for it.
She wished…she wished…Gah!
Right now she wished she hadn’t drank three cups of tea. Her early morning routine of staying in bed and enjoying the sheer laziness, was interrupted by the very tangible need to relieve her bladder. She threw her blankets off and sprinted to the bathroom.
When she finally dressed and made her way downstairs, a firm knock at the store’s front door made her jump and almost miss a step. With the sun blazing in the clear blue skies, it couldn’t be Lon.
Not Lon. Her shoulders sagged and the truth of the moment dug a pit in her stomach. She shuffled slowly to the entrance of the store and wished she’d run a brush through her hair. At least she’d done her teeth.
A police officer studied her as she opened the door. He stood tall at around six feet, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His name tag read HARRIS in bold white lettering. Brown hair poked out from under his hat and matching brown eyes softened when she met his gaze.
“Hello, ma’am. Are you Ms. Willa Eklund?” His voice held a steely quality.
“Y...yes,” she replied. Her heart leapt into her throat and stuck there. She wanted to know what the cop had to say, but at the same time, she didn’t want to hear the truth.
“Ms. Eklund, I’m Officer Harris. I wanted to stop by to let you know that we’re still looking into your aunt’s disappearance.”
“Oh!” She sagged into the door frame. “I thought you had…bad news.”
“Bad news? Oh! No. Sorry to scare you, ma’am. We don’t have any leads. Nothing’s come up with her banking, she left her cell phone on these premises, and no one has come forward with any information.” The man’s expression softened even more. He was a lot nicer than the cranky, older cop she’d dealt with when she first arrived.
The older man had found it odd her family’s first priority had been to keep the shop running. Despite explaining how the bookstore was her aunt’s baby and she’d want it looked after, the officer’s pressed lips and stiff behaviour told her he didn’t buy it. He’d grilled her for hours before she finally confessed she’d been ordered here because her mother didn’t want to lose profits from a business she could potentially inherit. The police had left her pretty much alone after that.
While the older cop had looked at her with disgust, this one had a pleasant expression. At least they hadn’t forgotten about Aunt Jenny.
Wait a minute. Just because Officer Harris didn’t have news, didn’t mean Aunt Jenny hadn’t met some horrible fate. Willa’s body tensed again. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and started to pull the door closed. “Well, thank you for—”
“Are you okay, ma’am?” Officer Harris interrupted. “Your head has a pretty good bump.”
Willa reached up and pressed the tender skin. “Yeah. I had an argument with a door during the storm a couple nights ago.”
“And the door won?”
“’fraid so.”
The cop peered at her. “Have you learned anything new since staying here?”
Willa’s heart picked up the pace, and her palms felt suddenly clammy. Should she tell him about Lon? The book? Would he even believe her? She glanced at his chocolate brown eyes and her breathing hitched. No, he’d think she was crazy. Maybe she should find out something more concrete before saying something to the authorities. The sprites may not be involved at all.
“No,” she said and tried desperately not to look guilty.
The cop narrowed his eyes and leaned in, as if he could smell the lie on her breath. “Are you sure? You’ve been here for two weeks now.”
Willa nodded. “I visited my aunt often, but it’s not as though I kept a ledger of all her possessions. I’ve checked the inventory with her records, and nothing in the store is missing, but her personal effects are another matter. I don’t think anything’s missing, but I could be wrong.”
“No journals or notes?”
Willa shook her head. “No. I wish. I…” She turned away with the sudden sting in her eyes. “I hope she’s okay.” She turned back to the cop. “I’ve seen more than one documentary on television about missing persons. They say the first twenty-four hours are crucial. It’s been five weeks. I love my aunt and want her home. Is there any hope? Any hope at all that she’s still alive?”
The tension in the officer’s shoulders relaxed as he straightened from the doorway. Maybe he heard the truth in her words, too. “There’s always hope, ma’am.”
****
Seven weeks since Aunt Jenny’s disappearance, and still no word. With each day that past with clear skies and calm seas, Willa’s mood plummeted. It had been two weeks since the last storm rocked Lobster Cove. She wanted answers and only Lon could give them.
The Fourth of July carnival came and went. The fireworks did little to lift her spirits, and instead, compounded her loneliness. Officer Harris had approached her under the firework-lit sky, his soft brown eyes reflecting the sparkle of colours. He’d asked how she held up, but after a few awkward exchanges of conversation, he’d walked away to talk to Tess Highland, the gossip from the sheriff’s office.
Just as well. She wanted to see Lon.
With today’s forecast calling for cloud cover and a looming threat of thunderstorms, she might get her wish. With the booktique closed, she spent the day wandering the town and thinking about what she’d say to Lon.
After stopping by Julie’s Coffee and Sweet Shop, Willa drifted through Lobster Cove’s Central park with her to-go cup in hand.
“Hello, dear!” An older woman, her flaming red hair in an up-knot sat on one of the benches in the gazebo and waved her arm in the air. Ms. McCorkle.
Willa smiled and waved back.
“C’mere, lass! Tell me, ha-ware-ye?”
“Good.” Willa gripped her coffee cup and walked over to join the Irish woman on the bench. The potent aroma of the surrounding osiria roses flooded her senses, and American goldfinche
s chattered back and forth. “How are you, Ms. McCorkle? Feeling better?”
“Aye! Just dandy,” she said, and then held up a familiar book. “I ’ear yer tay tank fer dis book. Brilliant piece.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you li—”
“Listen tay dis!” The short and rotund woman began to regale her with the explicit sections of the book in her heavy, slightly exaggerated, Irish brogue.
Willa squirmed in her seat as Ms. McCorkle read about “heaving bosoms,” “swollen members” and “quivering mounds.” It took three fairly graphic scenes and a promise to visit before Willa could extract herself from the verbal clutches of the older woman.
“Lass!” Ms. McCorkle called out to her again.
Willa cringed and turned around to find the other woman leaning forward and squinting, her lurid book momentarily forgotten.
“Yes?” Willa asked.
“Ye ’ave da look o’ da fae in ye girl.”
“Oh.” Willa straightened and scratched her head. “Thanks?”
“Ye need tay be careful in dees parts, lass. Some of da fairy folk would gobble ye up!” The woman shook her head, eyes glazing into a foggy look before she picked up her book and continued to read, as if Willa no longer existed or the exchange never happened.
Willa raised her now-empty coffee cup in a silent salute, and hustled away before Ms. McCorkle remembered her presence and started serenading her with her favorite book sections again.
With the light fading fast, Willa decided to walk along the water on the way back to the booktique. The sky darkened with an overcast of ominous clouds, but not enough for a storm, not yet. The changing weather left her apprehensive, nervous and excited all at the same time. She needed to know if the sprites were involved with her aunt’s disappearance. She needed Lon.
What would she say to him? She had no clue, but at least she didn’t have to worry about it tonight. They’d get a small drizzle, if anything, but it wouldn’t be enough for Lon to appear. She’d done some researching of her own on the internet.
According to a number of sites, Tempests needed thunder and lightning to take human form.
She kicked a stone with her foot and winced. Not the best idea to wear flip-flops. She continued to walk along the rocky shore of Lobster Cove. The street had to be one of the most beautiful drives, and she envied the shops lining Main Street. What a great view! With the booktique a few blocks down, she could hear and smell the ocean but only saw it from the top floor’s bedroom window.
Seagulls cried out, possessive and nerve-grating as ever. She climbed down on the rocks near the pier so she could dip her feet into the cool ocean water. She’d always loved doing this, ever since she was a child. Her mother would be furious. “You’re dragging in the dirt,” she’d hiss.
Well, Mom wasn’t here. Willa rolled her shoulders and cast her gaze out, the deep blue of the sea almost merged with the darkening sky. She’d always loved the ocean breeze, and the way it would comb through her hair, even on a mild day. She remembered a plaque somewhere that read, “Our memories of the ocean will linger on, long after our foot prints in the sand are gone.” Although unknown, the poet spoke to Willa’s soul. She loved the ocean.
Maybe that’s why she felt such a strong connection to Lon. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said, speaking quietly to her feet, so no one would hear. “How can I feel this way?”
Did the water swirl more at her feet? No. She must’ve imagined it. Maybe she imagined Lon and his devilish mouth, too.
“I read the rest of the book,” she told the sea. “Tempests are pretty badass when they’re pissed. Well, I’m angry, too. Maybe I misread you and that kiss. But why didn’t you tell me? Why would you tell my aunt and not me? Why did you run?”
Again, the ocean held no answers, but the wind picked up. The rocks she sat on bordered the deep bay, and the ocean swelled against her legs before crashing hard against the serrated shoreline farther down.
“Is that why my aunt went missing? Because she found out?”
The breeze ruffled through her hair and she splashed the cold water with her feet, a nice refreshment from the lingering heat of the day.
“If Tempests exist, could other, nastier creatures be roaming around?” She knew in her heart Lon wasn’t involved with her aunt’s disappearance, but if someone else found out about her aunt’s knowledge…maybe that’s what happened to her. The chill of the water seemed to spiral up her leg to travel along her spine. She shuddered. If that was true, Aunt Jenny might be gone forever. Dead.
Her eyes stung and for once, she didn’t stop the tears from falling. The droplets hit the water below her and created little ripples on the dark blue surface. Maybe she could send a message to Lon with her tears. Willa laughed. I’m really losing it now.
Her body’s outline stared back at her, becoming more broken by the increased chopping motion of the water. The waves almost non-existent when she first arrived, grew in intensity. If only they would bring a storm. Even then, nothing guaranteed Lon would appear. She might never see him again. The thought sent a searing pain to her heart.
“I know you’re not here to answer, but I wonder, Lon. Did you put some sort of spell on me? Enthrall me with some crazy supernatural voodoo? How can I feel the way I do, when I’ve only known you a few hours? Two nights! How can the pain in my heart be real?”
With the deep blue withholding its knowledge, Willa picked herself up to walk back to the booktique. Her day off almost over, and she felt more lost than ever.
“Wait!” A whisper floated in the breeze.
Willa spun around and peered into the water, now a deep, blue-black with only the moon to light its depths. The choppy water distorted the surface, but a translucent object solidified from the depths of the ocean.
Lon’s pale face appeared in the water below.
Willa gasped.
With his chin tilted up toward her, submerged in the water, Lon’s gray storm eyes met hers. She shook her head and looked again. His luscious lips moved under the water, as if he spoke to her. She leaned closer.
“Not…spell… Not a spell…”
Willa’s hand flew to her mouth, and she quickly inhaled. She reached down to pull him out of the water, but his face disappeared, melting into the deep blue as if he’d never existed. Overextended, she toppled forward.
“Ahh!” Willa flapped her arms and tried to correct her balance, but it was too late. Her body hit the ocean with an icy slap. Her forehead struck a rock. Pain lanced across her face.
The water swirled around her, angry and dark. Her arms flailed as she tried to find a rhythm with her legs to stay afloat. She lacked control. The cold chopped at her face, and she gulped some seawater down. No! This wasn’t supposed to happen.
The water kept crashing against her, slamming her body against the rocks. Her head cracked against a jagged edge and her vision, already poor in the fading light, narrowed, until only darkness and one thought remained.
Lon?
****
Foolish woman! What was she thinking reaching out into the ocean after him?
When he was in sprite form, sight came in bands of energies, and Willa’s had been a beacon on those rocks with the oncoming night—bright purple and gold, swirling together—he’d recognized her instantly.
Now, Lon drifted in the ocean and watched Willa sink with his heart. The coming storm wasn’t strong enough for him to take human form, but he’d needed to talk to her. He’d leeched energy from his brothers just to gain enough power to form his face and tell her it wasn’t a spell.
Now Willa flailed in the strong current. Her aura flickered and waned. She was in trouble.
And he had no energy to save her.
Lon floated helplessly as he watched her head crack against the sharp rocks of the shoreline. The sound vibrated through his entire being.
Help! He called to his brothers. No one answered.
Willa’s body sagged deeper. Her heartbeat slowed.
Bubbles of air escaped from her nose and slightly opened mouth.
She continued to sink in the dark water. Her aura faded. Her heartbeats slowed as she drifted farther down.
No!
The swelling waves pushed him away and dark depths of the ocean engulfed the lower half of Willa’s body. Only her pale face and swirling hair remained visible.
Help! He called out again. Help her!
The ocean pushed with more weight and a bolt of energy surged through Lon’s body. He propelled down and swirled around Willa’s petite frame. Her eyes remained shut and a wake of blood followed her through the current.
I love her! Lon bellowed. The truth behind the words gave them power, and his thoughts echoed through the waves, repeating back to him with each crash and undertow.
At first, he heard nothing.
Then, the wail of his brothers resonated through the rough water. Their shouts of excitement and fear grew louder. Sprites swirled around him, then dove down to Willa’s sinking body. They surrounded her while others flowed back and forth to fight the tide.
Lon struggled to swim beside them. Helpless. Useless. Powerless. He strained against the strong undertow and pushed forward. He sensed the approaching shore.
That’s it, he told them. You’re almost there.
If Lon had a physical heart in this form, it would be lodged in his throat. Minutes became eons. But finally, his brothers angled Willa’s body close enough to shore for the waves to roll her to safety. Lon curled with the tide, sensing Willa’s presence more than truly “seeing” her.
When another wave pushed her onto the rocky shore and left her there, a negative weight washed from his soul, leaving him light and fluid.
Her crumpled body lay on the rocks, giving off only faded remnants of her former aura. Then she coughed. She coughed and hacked and turned onto her side to spew out the ocean she’d consumed. His brothers cheered as they swept by him in the waves.
She’s alive!
“Thank you!” he bellowed for all to hear.
Willa stood and stumbled toward her store. Her aura’s hues of purple and gold grew brighter with each step.