old. A lifeguard the size of Godzilla had managed to save her,
telling her to swim parallel to shore until she was free of the strong
current.
She wasn’t being sucked out now, dragged under to die a horrible
death. She’d escaped, just as she had when she was ten. Only
this time she’d saved herself. Like the ocean on this beautiful
evening, her life was calm again. She was safe.
She looked to the left at the dozen or so fishing boats coming
back into the harbor. Since it was summer, some tourists were out
in their white-sailed boats, enjoying the last bit of the day. The
deep scent of brine settled around her. She quite liked it. Yes, she
was going to be safe here.
The phone installers were coming the next day. She’d changed
her mind at least a dozen times as to whether or not she would
even have a phone. In the end, she’d decided in favor of getting
connected, perhaps as a gesture of confidence that her stalker
would fail to track her down.
The next morning just after nine o’clock, Tyler appeared again
at her door, a little boy at his side, holding his hand.
“Hi, Becca. This is my son, Sam.”
His son? Becca looked down at the solemn little face looking up
at her. He didn’t look a thing like Tyler. He was sturdy, compact,
with a head of very dark hair and eyes a beautiful light blue. Sort
of like hers, she thought, and smiled. He looked all boy. He didn’t
seem happy to be there. She opened the screen door and stood
back. “Do come in,Tyler, Sam.”
He was so wary, she thought. Distrustful. Or was it more than
that? Was there something wrong with this precious little boy? Was
this Rachel Ryan’s Sam, the little boy she obviously adored? She
smiled down at him, then slowly came down on her knees. “I’m
Becca. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sam.” She held out her hand.
“Sam, say hello to Becca.”
There was a slight edge to his voice. Why was that? She said
quickly, “It’s all right, Tyler. Sam can do what he wants. I don’t
think I was all that talkative, either, when I was his age.”
“It’s not that,”Tyler said, frowning down at his son.
The child just stared up at her, unmoving, so very still. She didn’t
stop smiling. “Would you like a glass of lemonade, Sam? Mine’s just
about the best east of the Rockies.”
“All right.” His voice was small and wary. Thank goodness she’d
bought some cookies. Even wary little boys had to like cookies.
She sat him at the kitchen table, saying, “Do you have an aunt
Rachel, Sam?”
“Rachel,” Sam repeated, and he gave her a huge smile. “My aunt
Rachel.”
Sam said nothing more after that, but he ate three cookies and
drank nearly two glasses of lemonade. Then he wiped the back of
his hand over his mouth. All boy, she thought, but what was wrong?
Why didn’t he speak? And he looked so blank, as if his mind wasn’t
focused on the here and now.
“Do come back, Sam. I’ll make sure there are always cookies
here for you.”
“When?” Sam said.
“Tomorrow,” she said, giving him a big grin. “I’ll be here all
morning.”
“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” Tyler said as he
took his son’s small hand.
“I’m going to The Riptide Independent to see if they need a reporter.”
“Then you’ll be seeing Bernie Bradstreet, he’s the owner and
the main contributor. A really nice older guy who has his finger in
every pie in this town. He’ll probably be very impressed with you.
Hey, it seems like you’re going to stay for a while.”
“Yes, I just might.”
“Ah, maybe I’ll see you later when Sam’s with his aunt Rachel.
She’s not really his aunt, she’s just a really good friend and his babysitter.”
Chapter 5
Becca pulled the brush through her brown hair. It was long now,
to her shoulders. She pulled it back in a ponytail, then stared at
herself in the mirror. She hadn’t worn a ponytail since she was thirteen