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Last night’s storm was a wild one. Heard it howling around three, but even if I’d slept through, it’s clear from the seaweed tossed where it has no right to be that the wind and waves had a party. The closer I get to town, walking past rows and rows of tall, terraced houses snuggled against the cliffs, the more incongruous the seaweed is.
Splayed on roof tiles.
Tucked in third-story window boxes.
And in the town square, draped over the statue of a long forgotten mayor like a slimy brown wig.
Driftwood litters the smooth beach beyond the promenade, clear of footprints this early in the morning, but soon enough the dog walkers and sunrise joggers will leave their mark. Over in the town square, shop shutters are raised, and the scent of fresh bread drifts from the bakery.
My stomach rumbles.
I ignore it. I’d eat the whole damn grocery store if I let my appetite rule. I’m like a black hole; I’d never get full. Plagues of locusts have nothing on me.
Striding past, I hug the shoreline and leave the bustle of shopkeepers and deliveries behind me. As quick as the sounds and smells of civilization came, they fade, and then it’s just me and the beach path again. The way I like it. Seabirds strut across the sand, pecking at nothing.
Everyone has their part to play in Sweet Cherry Cove, and mine is at the marina. Mostly alone. Some think the town is in a time warp, like we’re all play-acting another era, but the truth is, our system works.
If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. And if you don’t want thousands of tourists to descend on your golden beaches, don’t pander to ‘em.
I think we’re doing just fine.
A gull yells at me as I unlock the marina gate, and the metal creaks as it swings wide. Need to oil those hinges.
The gull screeches louder, and I wave it off.
“Alright, alright, I’ll oil it today. Keep your feathers on.”
Boats clink against their moorings as I stroll around the marina, checking for damage after last night’s storm. It’s mostly small boats for fishing and drifting—no great wealth around here, apart from the occasional visitor venturing off the beaten track. Still, if there’s a single scratch, you bet your ass I’ll hear about it. The Sweet Cherry Cove locals are a mouthy lot.
The jetty creaks beneath my steps. Barnacles cling to the wooden poles like crusty leg warmers, and the boats rock with the gentle swell of waves. Fine, all fine. It’s sheltered in this marina, tucked away from the ocean’s temper.
“Hm.” Scratching the stubble on my chin, I cast one last look around. A flash of white in a distant rowboat catches my eye.
…That’s strange.
As I walk over, I’m thinking normal thoughts. Boring thoughts, like:should I check those lobster pots off South Point didn’t get all tangled last night, andwhat shall I cook for dinner?
Then I get my first good look at the rowboat, and my heart stops. My legs wobble, and then I’m running, boots crashing against the jetty.
The girl is curled in a ball, arms wrapped around her middle, her dark hair tangled with the pile of fishing nets she’s lying on. Her dress is white and torn, crusted with sand and rucked up around her thighs.
She’s so still.Toostill.
Her lips are chalky pale.
“Fuck.” I draw out my phone and curse my own antisocial ways as it takes forever to switch on. Her face is smooth and untroubled, as though she’s napping on a sun lounger and not curled up on a twisted pile of nets. Is this a crime scene? Can I go any closer?
As I watch, her chest rises and falls on a shuddering breath.
“She’s alive,” I say, like anyone could hear me, and fumble my way into the boat, the tiny vessel rocking madly. A scratched-up orange buoy rolls over the side, landing in the water with a plop.
The girl is cold to the touch, and so ashen—but when I feel for the pulse point under her jaw, it taps against my fingers, steady and strong. Another breath stirs her chest.
Thank god.
“Miss,” I say, and I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. I need a team of paramedics; a police detective; hell, even a passing dog walker, because I don’t have enough hands. Can’t think straight.
Dial, you asshole. Call for help.
