Chapter 46

The ride back to town was longer than any she could remember. There was a twisting knot in her chest that threatened to smother her with each breath. Lillian had been her friend for as long as she had known her. No, more sister than friend. The fury that enveloped her had been unexpected and frightening. Samantha couldn’t recall every having seen anyone she knew as angry as that.

What was even more troubling was the ability that Lily apparently possessed. She seemed to be able to see things that were going to happen but to be able to see emotions was something Samantha had no knowledge of and couldn’t ever remember hearing about. Her own ability seemed limited to seeing people coming from outside, through the mist. Seeing things that were going to happen here on the island was not something she had ever been able to do but which Lily obviously could do with ease. Of course, her own abilities seemed to have been heightened, possibly even growing.

How long Lillian had known about Lily was debatable but Sam was certain of one thing. Lillian had known about it for some time. That amount of rage would not have developed so quickly unless the knowledge had been festering in her mind. At least, Sam hoped not. The irony was that Sam understood completely how Lillian felt. It wasn’t far from the way she felt about her own so called gift. She hated that Lily was the next generation of her family to carry this burden.

Sam reached the main street and turned toward the harbor and The Block and Tackle. Uncle Will might have a minute to talk before he closed for the day. Her horse made her way along with very little help from Sam. Over and over in her mind she reviewed the events of the summer. She was missing something. It was like a splinter that she couldn’t see but had rubbed the spot so much it hurt and still she couldn’t dislodge it.

There were only two people in the store when she entered. Will Rivers was bent over the counter, tinkering with some gadget and a small boy stood patiently waiting and watching. Will looked up and smiled. “Come in, Sam. I’ll be done here in a minute. Charlie, meet my niece, Sam.” He went back to tinkering.

Charlie looked over his shoulder and his dark eyes widened before turning a scowl at Will. He looked back at Will. “She’s a girl.”

Again, Will looked up and he gave a laugh. “Can’t deny that.”

“She can’t be a Sam.”

Sam moved to the counter and smiled down at him. He had sandy blond hair and scattering of freckles across his nose. She judged him to be about 8 or 9 years old. “My name is Samantha but everyone who knows me calls me Sam. It’s a nickname, like Charlie.”

He shook his head. “Ain’t got no nickname. Name’s Charlie.”

Will snapped a part in place and handed the item to the boy. “You’re given name is Charles. They’ve called you Charlie all your life. Here my lad, good as new.”

Charlie examined the gadget and nodded. “See ya, Will.” He tossed a disdainful look Sam’s way. “Good-by, Samantha.”

Both Sam and Will laughed as Charlie dashed out into the fading sunlight. Will shook his head, “Boys,” he said as he began to gather his tools. “Let me lock up and we’ll have a cup of coffee or tea, your choice.”

While Will locked the door as Sam made her way to the back of the building to the kitchen. The double doorway stood open onto a back garden with a stone patio to the left of the door. She set two cups on a tray and added spoons and sugar and a small pitcher of fresh cream. Will came in just as she poured the coffee. The two of them then made their way outside and sat down. Matching sighs escaped them both and they smiled at one another.

“So, how ya’ been sweetheart?” He added cream and sugar to his coffee.

“Confused.”

“Hmmm,” he sipped his coffee. “So’s most of us, I suspect.”

“Uncle Will,” she leaned across the table, reaching for and clutching lightly at his wrist. “I need to know about my family. Who can I ask? Who can I trust to give me the truth?”

The coffee cup made a clinking sound as he sat it down on his saucer. He patted her hand and sat back in his chair. “Ah well, truth, a rare commodity in some regions. You have a few relatives here and there on the island. You talked to Isabel?”

She nodded.

“And didn’t discover what you wanted to know?”

“No, not really.” She hesitated and then asked, “Do you know her daughter?”

His brow crinkled and a grunt escaped him as he leaned forward and picked up his cup again. “I saw her a few times when she was growing up. Met her once then, about a year ago when I delivered supplies.”

When no further comment came Sam raised her hands in question.

“Hell spawn,” he replied between tight lips. “Couldn’t believe she was Isabel’s daughter.”

“What did she do?”

He shook his head, the frown deepening. “Nothing. Just stood on the porch and stared at me. I thought I would smother before I got away from there. I would swear that I was having trouble breathing by the time I pointed that team homeward. The farther away I got the better I felt.”

He paused and then, almost under his breath he said, “Something not right with that one.”

So, he had felt it, too. It had not been her imagination after all. Sam stared off across the field that lay behind the store. It was more a common ground than a field. Several children were playing ball there today. Some days people strolled a path around it.

Finally, she turned her gaze back to the older man. “I felt that, too.”

His eyes widened and his brows rose, whether in surprise or shock she didn’t know.

“I think she has an ability to do that at will. I suspect from what you say of your experience she has been . . . practicing.” She weighed her next statement. “She is getting stronger.”

Will pursed his lips in thought and nodded. “Isabel?”

“Either doesn’t know or is ignoring it.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Be hard to ignore.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Uncle Will, do you know of,” she stopped.

“Of what?”

Samantha opened her mouth to speak, closed it, sighed and opened it again.

“You’ve either got something to say, you’ve got a problem with breathing, or you’re practicing your imitation of a fish. Which is it?”

She smiled briefly. “What do you know about smuggling on the island?”

His eyes widened before he looked away, across the field. “I know there are probably things you shouldn’t ask some people.”

“Are you one of them?”

He didn’t answer. From his shirt pocket he pulled out a packet of pipe tobacco and from his jacket pocket he pulled out a pipe. He took his time tamping the tobacco into the bowl, striking a match, lighting the pipe, and puffing like a steam engine. Finally, he took a long draw and blew out a great cloud of smoke that circled his head and drifted away on a breeze.

“What do you want to know?”

“How big is it?”

“Large enough to establish some fairly important people in business.”

He got up and left the room. She heard the turning of the lock in the front of the store and the tinkling of the curtain ring as the curtains were pulled across the windows. He had just closed shop for the day. When he came back he stood in the door and motioned her to come inside. She gathered up the dishes and followed him. She set them on the counter and turned to find he had closed the double doors and locked them.

“Sit down,” he said, pointing to the table. “And you have to swear on your parents’ graves that you will keep your mouth shut.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d kind of like both of us to stay above ground a bit longer.”

She pulled her chair close to the table and leaned on forward.