Page 25 of The Choices I've Made
“Then, it will be our little secret.”
It wasn’t. By noon the next day, I had been called Jakey by everyone I knew. From that moment on, it’d stuck.
Jakey Jameson.
I hadn’t heard it in years.
I guess the fact that I was just hearing it now, after seeing so many familiar faces, meant something.
I truly was an outsider.
I turned from my hunched over stance on the railing overlooking the water. The sun was high and bright in the sky, offering little shade. But the breeze from the ocean gave a much-needed reprieve from the heat as I attempted to recognize the man behind me.
“Mr. Lovell?” I said, noticing the familiar white hair and kind smile. He’d been a frequent guest at the McIntyres’ inn. So frequent, I had known him by name, even now.
“Good to see you, old boy.” He smiled, offering a hand.
I took it and embraced him for a quick moment, noticing how frail and thin he’d become.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Surely, your week at By the Bay should have come and gone by now.”
He joined me against the railing. “Oh, yes, last week,” he replied. “But, with the ferry being out, we ended up staying past our welcome.”
“Highly doubt that. The McIntyres treat you like family. No way they’d get sick of you.” I said, remembering how much the McIntyres loved their guests, especially the ones who came back year after year.
“Miss Molly said something of the sort as well. But we felt obliged to offer some assistance after hearing about Dean. She doesn’t ask for help much, you know. She’s always trying to run everything on her own.”
“Molly’s running the B and B now?” I asked, not surprised at all.
After all, it was what she’d always planned on doing.
Nothing could have deterred her.
Not even me.
“Oh, yes. For about a year now. Her parents retired, and she’s been doing a fine job in their absence. A fine job,” he pressed.
“Good. That’s good. So, what are you doing ferrying back and forth like a local?”
He laughed. “Oh, running some errands for Miss Molly, of course. She’s been traveling up and down to the hospital to care for Mr. Sutherland, and I felt it was only right to help her out.”
“Sounds about right,” I muttered.
Molly always had a knack for exceeding her limits in order to aid everyone around her.
“When my mother died, she visited our house every day for months, delivering casseroles and desserts. I thought my father and I would both die of diabetes by the time she was done with us.”
He chuckled, a hoarse sort of sound rising in his chest. “Her mother never could keep her out of the kitchen. That sister of hers though? She couldn’t boil a pot of water.”
I laughed out loud. “Millie? You’re right about that. She was never meant for the service life.”
He paused shortly. “I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he said.
I nodded, choosing to look out toward the water rather than at the old man beside me. “Thank you,” I managed to say.
“He was a good man.”
“You knew him?” I asked, not realizing how close Mr. Lovell and his wife had gotten to the folks who lived on the island.
