Page 35 of A Brambleberry Summer

“The night turned a little cooler, didn’t it? That came on suddenly.”

She had brought a sweater, which she had put on earlier. Even so, she shivered a little.

“Yes. And it looks as if the fog they’ve been talking about is finally moving in.”

Tendrils of coastal fog stretched up from the beach, winding through the houses. It added to the strange, restless mood stealing over him like the fog creeping up the street.

He put it down to leaving his son back at his sister’s house. Surely that’s what it was, not anything to do with his growing feelings for Rosa.

“You were right—Logan can sleep through anything. I would not have believed it but he did not even open his eyes when you carried him to bed. Will he wake up confused in a strange place?”

“I don’t think so. He’s spent the better part of the past two months sleeping there, except for the few weeks we’ve been at Brambleberry House. He’s probably as comfortable there as he is in his own bed. I, on the other hand, probably won’t sleep at all.”

She gave him a sideways look. “Why is that?”

He shrugged, wishing he hadn’t said anything. “When I don’t have Logan nearby, I feel like part of me is missing.”

She looked touched. “He is a very sweet boy.”

“You’ve been very kind to help him learn Spanish for his friend. I know you’re busy. Please let me know if it becomes too much of a burden.”

“Impossible,” she declared. “I am always happy to speak Spanish with someone. Sometimes I worry I will forget the language of my birth.”

He suddenly remembered the conversation he’d had with his sister about her. What had she been through, the reasons Carrie said she deserved to be happy?

“That fog is growing more thick. I hope it goes out again in the morning so the weather stays good for the rest of the holiday weekend. It is a busy time for my store.”

“Don’t you have better business if it starts to rain? I would have thought fewer people would want to sit at the beach when it’s raining, so they’re more inclined to go shopping instead.”

“Sometimes. Or sometimes they decide since it’s raining to take a drive down the coast to Lincoln City, or even farther down to some of the other lighthouses like Heceta Head.”

“The police department is busy whether it’s raining or not. It seems like holiday weekends always bring out the worst in people.”

“Do you like your job as a detective?” she asked as they turned onto the Brambleberry House road.

The question took him by surprise. Not many people asked him that. He pondered for a moment before answering, wanting to be as honest as possible.

“I like when I have the chance to help people. That doesn’t always happen. The past few years have made me question my job choices. I’ve seen a lot of injustice and been frustrated by it. Attitudes are changing, I think. It’s just taking longer than it should. At the end of the day, I hope I can say I’ve worked for victims and for justice.”

She said nothing for several long moments. When she spoke, her voice was low. “I will always be grateful for thepolicia. My father is the sheriff and he saved my life and the lives of my friends.”

She turned onto the walk of Brambleberry House as if her words hadn’t landed between them like an errant firework.

After his first moment of shock, he quickly caught up with her. “How did he do that?”

In the moonlight, she looked as if she regretted saying anything at all. “It is a long story, and not a very nice one. I do not like to talk about it.”

Wyatt wanted to point out that she had been the one to bring it up. He had the odd feeling Rosa wanted to tell him about her past, but was afraid of his reaction.

“Well, if you ever decide you’re willing to share your story with me, I like to think I’m a pretty good listener.”

“I have noticed this. That is probably a help in your line of work, when you are fighting crime.”

“I hope so.”

He knew he had to get up early for his shift the next morning, yet he didn’t want the evening to end.

To his vast relief, she didn’t seem in a hurry to go to inside, either. She stood looking at the big, graceful old house in the moonlight. It was mostly in darkness except for a light in the shared entry and two lights glowing on the second floor.

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