Author: Robyn Carr

Eric held on. “Go to the bank. I’ll keep you on the clock. Don’t screw with a big old check like that. You might need the money. And if you have an emergency and can’t get to the bank, I’ll fix you up with what you need. Get yourself checks and a debit card and a credit card. You shouldn’t be living off cash.”

“I’m not sure how all that stuff works. I been just cashing my checks.”

“It’s easy. They’ll explain it at the bank and if it’s not real clear, I’ll explain it further. Now go.” Justin gave a lame shrug and turned to go. “Listen,” Eric said, stopping him. “Listen, Justin, I know it probably feels like Al ran out on you but he didn’t. This is his way—he’s a rover. I’ve known him a real long time and he’s usually on the move, a few months here, a few there. He’ll show up again. Meanwhile, you can count on me. This is my business. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Till Laine tells you she can’t get back here on account of her dad and wants you to go there,” Justin said.

“Man, you think a lot more than you let on,” Eric said, shaking his head. “I doubt that would happen. Ashley is here and I have a lot of time to make up with her. If I leave Thunder Point it won’t be fast, you can count on that. First that girl needs to be all grown up and on her own and second, I’d have to sell a business. I don’t leave notes behind. I tell the people in my life what I’m planning to do so you can count on me, okay? Don’t go doing something crazy like kidnapping your brothers in the dark of night. Talk to me. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Sure,” Justin said, clearly unconvinced.

Eric sighed. “Go to the bank.”

Eric knew what would help Justin. Everyone knew. He needed a foster parent. And Eric was tempted. He knew it wouldn’t be more work than he could handle—those boys knew how to live independently. But if he took on that job he’d have to live with them and he had waited his whole life for something else, something he thought he might have with Laine. They had enough working against them. A whole continent separated them and he wasn’t sure how long that would be the case. He hoped not too much longer but in his heart he knew she could be committed for a long time. A mean and selfish little voice said, If she hadn’t made up with Senior, this would be someone else’s problem. Then the gentler side of him said, She waited her whole life for Senior to be proud of her, to rely on her. He was lonely but, though difficult, he was happy for her. No one should lose their parents before things were settled with them. And he’d be ashamed to admit the number of times he wanted to beg her to come back. Just ask your brother to hire someone to take care of Senior and come back. At least he hadn’t given in to that temptation.

He picked up the phone in the office and called the diner. Maybe he could find out something that would ease Justin’s mind a little. Gina answered and he said, “Hey, Gina, it’s Eric. Do you have a phone number for Ray Anne?”

“I do. You looking for real estate?”

“I have more real estate than I know what to do with,” he said with a laugh. “Al left today and he said he had a friend who needed him. I wonder if Ray Anne knows any more than that. Justin looks like he lost his best friend. Which I guess maybe he did.”

This idea turned out not to be one of his best. When he asked Ray Anne the question she said, “Gone? He left? When?”

“At around noon. He said a friend needed his help. He didn’t have a better or more detailed explanation for you?”

She was quiet for a long moment. “No,” she finally said. “He didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Ray Anne,” Eric said. “I assumed he’d tell you he was leaving. Say goodbye. Or something.”

“I would have assumed that also,” she said softly.

“He’ll call you, then,” Eric said.

“I have a cell phone—he has a cell phone. There are no messages or texts. He doesn’t like to text—he thinks it’s impersonal. Did he say where he was going or when he’d be back?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I see. Thanks for letting me know, Eric. I’m glad I didn’t find out another way....”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I’ll let you know if I hear from him,” she said. Then she disconnected the call.

Well, way to go, Al, Eric thought. In all the years he’d known Al he couldn’t remember a time when it went down like this, a bunch of hard feelings and broken hearts left in his wake. What the hell happened? he asked himself. Too much pressure? Did things get a little too tight for him with Ray Anne and Justin, both needing him?

It must have been a real emergency, Eric thought. Al really liked Ray Anne. And unless he missed all the signals, he was committed to helping Justin.

But the phone didn’t ring. At least not with a call from Al.

Laine called twice and they filled each other in on the day and for some reason he couldn’t really explain, he didn’t tell her about Al leaving. He asked after her family and she reported that she was going to have to let another home health-care worker go—she suspected he was dipping into the liquor cabinet in the study. Either that or carrying a flask—she could smell alcohol on his breath. Senior was doing quite well; it seemed like there were very few bad days, knock on wood. He needed a companion, that much was evident; he couldn’t live alone. Most of his daily functions he managed independently. He could bathe, shave with a new electric razor—no more razor blades, not even disposables—but he couldn’t cook or drive alone. There was too much potential for disaster.

If anyone in my family ever gets Alzheimer’s I am now an expert, Eric thought.

Of course it wasn’t long before people started asking, “What’s that I hear about Al?”, since Eric had let the cat out of the bag. Other than that, it was a quiet afternoon and evening at the station. He sent Justin home a little bit early and told him to get some rest. Then he closed up and went home.

Every time he walked into that house he braced himself for a miracle. When she was here, she always at least left a light on in the kitchen and something in the refrigerator, but more often she was waiting for him. But the house was cool and dark. He didn’t turn on any lights. He walked toward the doors to the deck and saw the lightning flashing over the mouth of the bay, a distant rumble of thunder grumbling. It wasn’t going to develop into a full-fledged storm, but Laine would have liked the lightning.

He thought he heard something. Music. Laughter. Splashing. Before he even gave himself a second to think about it, he ran for the stairs, took them two or three at a time. The bedroom was unchanged; the bed was made but not turned down. They had had a rule, last one out makes the bed.... The bathroom was dark and empty but if he closed his eyes he could sense her there, the candlelight flickering, her iPod plugged into the speakers, the smell of her bath stuff. He could almost hear her laughter and a little splashing around while she waited for him in the tub. Then the next morning at five when he was in the shower she’d ask him why. Wasn’t he clean enough after that romp in the tub? And he’d carefully explained that he smelled like a girl and his customers didn’t like prissy mechanics.

He couldn’t count the nights he reached for her....

God, he missed her.

He put his hands in his pockets and felt his keys. He felt the key to the room at the Coastline Inn.

He went to the closet and pulled his duffel off the high shelf. He put it on the bed and filled it with shirts and pants and boots; he grabbed his shaving kit and added it. She wanted him to be here, in her house, but she had no idea what it did to him. No matter how many times he changed and laundered sheets, he could smell her. He had erotic dreams about her and woke in the night with the taste of her in his mouth. And every time he came home the longing was greater. And the fear those days and nights would never come again grew more fierce.

He closed the duffel and locked the door behind him. He had his phone and his laptop; she would never find him hard to reach. But he needed her here or it was just too much. He’d come back of course. He’d come every couple of days, make sure it was safe, kept in order, ready for her return.

He walked to the Coastline, his duffel in one hand, his laundered and bagged uniforms over his shoulder. He was better off here.

* * *

“Where is she?” Lou McCain asked Carrie James over the phone. “She’s not at Cliff’s, she’s not answering her phone, her house is dark. Do you think she drove into the bay? Drowned herself?”

“Over a man? Are we talking about the same Ray Anne?” Carrie asked. “Please. She’s probably soaking in the tub so she’ll be nice and clean when she puts little pins in his voodoo doll.”

“I drove over there. The house is dark and she’s not answering the door,” Lou said.

“You don’t know where to look,” Carrie said. “Where are you?”

“Sitting in front of the sheriff’s office, trying to figure out where to go next.”

“What are you doing in Thunder Point?” Carrie asked. Since Lou had married last fall, she didn’t live with her nephew, Mac, any longer. Her home with Joe was midway between Thunder Point and Coquille. She taught in Thunder Point, but school was out for the summer.

“I was talking to Gina, asking if she needed any help with the kids this week, and she asked me if I knew about Ray Anne. Apparently Al just took off, without explanation. Hey, maybe she went with him!” Lou suggested.

“Our little real estate magnate? Fat chance. Meet me in front of Ray Anne’s house.”

“I’m telling you she’s not there! And I don’t normally overreact, but I’m kind of worried about her.”

“She’s just sulking,” Carrie said. “Meet me out front. I’ll show you where she is. Then you can relax and go home. And I can go to sleep. Some of us work in summer, you know.”

“Some of us are very grouchy year-round,” Lou said. She hung up.

There was a time when Lou McCain and Ray Anne Dysart couldn’t get along for five minutes. Then age, experience, patience and wisdom settled in and things eased and even became friendly. Well, and Lou got married and Ray Anne finally stopped stealing Lou’s boyfriends—that could have had something to do with it.

Lou and Ray Anne had known each other since high school in Coquille and they’d always been like oil and water. They were opposites, to say the least. Lou had been studious and pretty serious while Ray Anne had been all about fun. She’d been wearing her clothes too tight since way back then, and she always had a bunch of guys. But back then a bunch wasn’t enough—she had to have everyone else’s guy, too.

Lou and Ray Anne rarely saw each other after high school until they were reconnected in Thunder Point. At first it was like the same old rivalry—Lou in her sensible shoes and Ray Anne in her tight skirts and heels. But then they settled into an uneasy truce that actually became a friendship. Still nothing alike, they somehow managed to appreciate each other. Lou liked her now. And she felt bad about this—that a man Ray Anne had not only liked, but also counted on, would just bolt.

Carrie’s deli van was sitting in front of Ray Anne’s house when Lou pulled up. They got out of their vehicles and met in the street; Carrie was still wearing her big full-body apron with the deep pockets, as though she’d been cooking. She was holding a bottle of wine as big as a horse’s leg. “Follow me,” she said. She went around the garage, reached over the top of the gate to unlock it and pushed it open so she could get into the backyard. She rounded the garage and went to the stairs that led to the roof. When they got to the top, there was candlelight. “You better be alone,” Carrie said into the darkness.