Safe In His Arms. Christine Scott
you think,” Samuel said quickly, hiding his embarrassment behind a sip of coffee. He winced as the hot liquid scalded his tongue. Muttering a curse beneath his breath, he blamed Jessie for yet another of his tribulations.
Jacob’s chin jutted upward and out. “Now, how do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Years of experience,” Samuel said, with a sigh. Forcing a smile, he placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, Jacob. We’ve got better things to do than to argue about a woman. Let’s get back to work.”
Reluctantly Jacob nodded.
With one last glance at the beach, Samuel turned his back on Jessie’s disturbing image and headed for the familiar safety of the hold.
Chapter 3
Never before had she felt such animosity directed at her from another person.
Reeling from the impact of the exchange, Jessie could think of nothing but putting as much distance between her and the man on the dock as possible. In her haste she almost stumbled on a large shell half-buried in the sand. She caught herself as she tried vainly to concentrate on the strip of beach before her.
She’d sensed his presence even before she’d spotted him. There’d been a prickling of awareness, a buzz of anticipation in her chest, telling her that someone near was watching her. She’d recognized him immediately. There weren’t many men blessed with that devastating combination of sun-streaked hair, pale blue eyes, high cheekbones and strong jawline.
Jessie couldn’t believe her own foolishness. She’d been on the brink of saying hello, of letting bygones be bygones. And then she’d caught the look in his eye. That look of pure, unadulterated hatred.
What had she done to deserve his disdain? He didn’t even know her.
Frustration churned inside her. She pushed herself, running faster, faster, willing the image of the man on the dock to fade from her mind. Her feet pounded the beach. Wet, hard-packed sand slid beneath her tennis shoes. The salty air whipped her skin, stinging her eyes. At least, that’s the reason she allowed herself for the tears blurring her vision. All she wanted to do was to go back to the cottage, where she could hole up and wallow in privacy.
Breathless, her heart racing, she slowed to a walk when she finally came to the boardwalk that crossed the dunes to Gull’s Cottage. Sea oats waved in the light breeze. A squirrel darted across the walkway, startling her. Pressing a hand to her breast, she laughed at her own skittishness.
Stepping back, she watched the reckless rodent scramble up a nearby oak tree. Once he’d disappeared beneath a thick canopy of leaves, she turned around and nearly collided with a woman blocking her path on the walkway.
Jessie gasped, her heart leapfrogging into her throat. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Instead, she stood rooted to the spot with fear, staring into the face of the other woman.
She looked to be in her midfifties. She was short and squat. Her hair was brown and straight, cut in an unflattering pageboy. Her face was wide and square. She wore round glasses that glittered in the sunlight as she studied Jessie’s face. When she spoke, her words were brisk and to the point, “So, you’ve come back, Jessie Pierce.”
“How did you know—” The words caught in her throat.
The woman smiled, seeming amused by Jessie’s flustered confusion. “Thelma from the grocery store called me this morning.” She nodded toward the wood and stone house a few yards down the beach. “I’m your neighbor. The name’s Dora Hawkins. I’ve been the caretaker of your house for over twenty years. Last night I noticed your lights on. Surprised me—I almost came over to check it out for myself. It’s been a long time since anyone’s stayed at Gull’s Cottage.”
“Yes, well…I’ve been living in Atlanta,” Jessie said, finally recovering her voice.
Dora took a moment to digest the news, then said, “I also heard you couldn’t remember anything about your mother, about Eve.”
Bad news traveled fast on the island, Jessie mused to herself. Sighing, she said, “No, I can’t. As a matter of fact, there’s not much about the first five years of my life that I can remember.”
“Nothing at all?” Dora asked, studying her curiously.
Jessie fought the urge to fidget beneath the woman’s scrutiny. She felt like a schoolgirl about to be caught in a lie. The troubling memory of last night’s panic attack flickered in her mind. Until she understood the cause of her fear, she could not share this information with anyone. She shook her head. “No, nothing at all.”
Abruptly Dora changed the subject. “How long are you staying?”
The conversation felt more like an interrogation. Jessie bit back another sigh at the woman’s tenacity. In the polite world where she’d been raised, Dora Hawkins would have been labeled as an eccentric. Which was a nice way of saying the woman was odd. Harmless undoubtedly, but still a kook.
Striving to be patient, Jessie said, “I’m not sure. Maybe for the summer. I need to get things settled here…decide what to do with the house.”
“So, you’re thinking of selling.”
Jessie shrugged. “Possibly. I live and work in Atlanta. There’s not much point in my keeping a house here on Prudence Island.”
“Probably for the best,” Dora said with a sniff. She cast a glance at Gull’s Cottage. “The house is full of bad memories. No need for you to become mired down by them.”
Uncomfortable with the conversation, Jessie searched for a quick way for it to end. She forced a smile. “I’d invite you inside for some coffee, but I forgot to buy any at the store yesterday.”
“No matter, I’ve got work to do,” Dora said, not seeming offended by Jessie’s dismissal. With a nod goodbye, she turned, the rubber heels of her shoes scraping against the wooden walkway. Then, with an abruptness Jessie was fast becoming accustomed to, she stopped, wheeling around to look at her. “How does it feel to be back in Gull’s Cottage?”
“I—I’m not sure,” Jessie said once again, taken aback by the woman’s brusqueness. “It’s quiet, a little spooky. I guess it’ll take a while for me to get comfortable.”
The woman humphed. “I’m not so sure about that, considering…”
Jessie frowned. This was the second time in as many days that someone had alluded to something that had happened in the house. After her panic attack of last night, she couldn’t allow another opportunity to answer the questions of her past to pass her by. “Considering what?”
Dora hesitated, seeming uncertain for the first time since their conversation began. Finally, looking Jessie straight in the eye, she dropped her bombshell. “Considering the fact that your mother was murdered in Gull’s Cottage.”
Your mother was murdered in Gull’s Cottage.
The words echoed hollowly in her mind as Jessie shifted her car into gear and stomped on the gas pedal, taking the rutted lane leading from the house much too fast. Somehow, after her conversation with Dora Hawkins, she’d found the strength to return to Gull’s Cottage, despite her instincts telling her to run…to run from the cottage, from the island, to run all the way back to Atlanta to her home where she belonged.
Home. Was there really such a place? It was as though her entire life had been built on quicksand. Everything that she’d thought was safe and solid was slipping away, crumbling beneath her feet.
When she’d set out on this quest to learn of her past, she’d never imagined just what she might uncover. Eugenia, her only remaining link with her parents, had told her there’d been some sort of scandal surrounding her birth mother’s death. She’d thought it had to do with Eve being so young. Never in her wildest dreams had she believed she would stumble onto a murder.
The air felt close,