Page 16 of Trick of Light
Barnaby appreciated the fierce disgust in Luke’s voice, but he had to be honest with himself. “I was headed that way. I was angry at the world, at Dad, at everything. Stepmothers, Carson, being stranded on this goddamn rock, being sent away to school, you name it, I hated it. Then I’d come here, steam coming out of my ears, and Tamara would put me to work.”
“You needed something physical.”
He set the teapot on Tamara’s favorite painted bamboo tray.
“Not just that. I’d chop wood or dig garden beds or whatever she needed, and she’d listen to me. I could say whatever I wanted and she wouldn’t freak out. I’d get it out of my system and by the time I left, I felt better. She taught me how to be a human being who actually cares about other people. Would you believe I’ve been back to this island many times without anyone knowing? I only come here, to see her.”
Luke snorted in disbelief. “Seriously? That’s some superhero shit. Everyone usually knows everything that happens here.”
“No, they don’t. This island has more secrets than you can imagine. I know because people tell Tamara things and sometimes I’m nearby working on something and I happen to catch it.”
Everything was ready on the tea tray, so Barnaby hefted it onto one hand, like a football player ready to make a pass. But before he brought it to the two women, who were still deep in conversation, he paused and gave Luke a level look.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you, too. I couldn’t take a chance on leaving these woods. I always tied up close to shore, out of sight, and hiked up the rocks. I didn’t want word getting back to Dad.”
Luke gave a one-sided smile and shook his head. “No explanation necessary. I had my own shit going on.”
“One more thing. You’re the first person I’ve told any of this. I’m not going to tell you what to do with the information, but…”
But his girlfriend was Heather, who wasn’t only a born-and-raised islander, but now ran a podcast.
“I hear you. Just gotta point out that I’m not the only person who just found out.” Luke jerked his head toward Gabby. “So if you want to keep this close to the vest, you might want to make a deal with the podcast babes.”
Ah crap. He gave a long groan. His brother had a point.
And not just the “babe” part.
8
“And then I told him I’m not that kind of sleazy journalist and he had a lot of nerve thinking we’d splash his personal business everywhere.” Gabby got indignant just remembering the confrontation she and Barnaby had gotten into after that dramatic revelation in Tamara’s little cottage. It had happened a few days ago, but she hadn’t gotten a chance to bring Heather up to speed until now, since Heather had been in Boston wrapping up some loose ends.
“Go, Gabby. You tell ’em. Then what happened?” Heather asked.
It was a brilliantly sunny day and they were painting the last coat on the trim boards. Gabby had given up on staying paint-free, and had stripped down to her bikini top and shorts. They were planning to jump in the ocean the minute they were done.
“He explained that he used to get written about in newspapers as some wealthy, eligible playboy and he hated it. That’s why he’s touchy when it comes to the media.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“It does, but I have to say that calling the press ‘dirty rotten bastards’ was over the line.”
Heather burst out laughing. “Sorry, I have to hand him that one.”
Gabby smiled too, since she secretly agreed it had been a pretty funny turning of the tables. “Anyway, he felt bad about insulting me, so he voluntarily offered to keep us informed of any progress the Sea Smoke Island Fund makes in tracking down more descendants.”
“That’s huge. Great job.”
It was. More information would help give context to Sasha’s story, and possibly lead to other interesting storylines.
“I didn’t do anything except tell him we’d never exploit his personal history. You know, it was interesting seeing Barnaby in such a different light,” she said thoughtfully. A bee buzzed past her ear and she shrank back. “Nature!”
That was her new warning call when anything in the outdoor world rubbed her the wrong way.
Heather, showing no fear, shooed the bee in another direction, toward the wild roses that covered the slope behind the café. “Are you allergic?”
“I don’t know, and I’d rather not find out.”
“Fair. Okay, back to Barnaby. What was different?”
