Those Who Wait

Chapter One

Through watery eyes, Simone studied the handmade map in her hand and pulled on her skinny, tan mutt’s leash with the other. She looked up and walked to a whitewashed shed nearby.

An older woman with round cheeks sat inside. A disintegrating, pink foam curler clung to the bangs of her gray hair. How can I be of service to ya, honey?

Her warm smile did nothing to ease Simone’s apprehension. Nervous, she chewed the inside of her cheek, then stopped and answered meekly, I have an appointment to be taken to a cottage.

Bulletin boards overflowed with yellowed papers and surrounded the woman. She reached over and grabbed a clipboard. Why, I see you do. I take it you’re Simone O’Henly.

Yes, I am. Simone leaned and soothed an anxious Vinnie while the woman took a pencil stub from her right ear and checked off her name.

And, I take it this is your dog.

His head pressed against Simone’s thigh, Vinnie peered over at her, then quickly away, as if hoping to disappear. Yes, you won’t mind him riding along, will you? He’s really very well-behaved.

The stocky woman pointed to a nearby car. Honey, these here are what we call island cars. Why, the only reason they don’t fall apart when we drive the darn things is on account of the spider webs inside holdin’ everything together. She grabbed a set of keys hung on a nail by the door and walked out of the building. A few dog hairs ain’t goin’ to matter none.

At the sight of the green car, Simone understood. Circa nineteen-sixty, full of rust and dents, cracks in all the windows, it looked rattier than its owner. A half-scraped bumper sticker proclaimed Kennedy for President.

You’re lookin’ worried there, sweetie. Don’t be. My name’s Madge. My hubby and I run the ferry. The only reason we have a car like this is on account there ain’t no real need for cars on the island. Most people ride bikes or walk. Ya see a scooter every now and then. Me and the Mister call those scooter-scoop-ups. Madge chuckled. Island ain’t that big, ya see. We got this beaut the year we got married and ain’t seen a need for a new one since.

It’s a fine car. Simone crouched into the backseat and pulled her new, summer skirt underneath her. A thin web caressed her knee and she stifled a yelp. An already scared Vinnie jumped pathetically.

Gently, she coaxed him in beside her. Part Greyhound and Golden Retriever, his attempt to sit his long, lean body on her lap failed miserably. I really appreciate this. Her hand brushed an imaginary spider off her shoulder and she winced.

No problemo, sweety pie. Let me get your suitcases into the trunk.

Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. Let me help. Simone swung her leg out the door. They’re pretty heavy.

You just sit, little lady, I got these. Madge whipped the bags into the trunk like they were empty, brushed off her pudgy hands and snuggled in behind the wheel, her chin barely even with the dashboard.

Simone stared at the puff of gray hair that stuck up from the front seat while the squat woman drove.

Sorry you have to sit behind me, honey bun. We lost the passenger side sometime around Carter’s inauguration.

Only rusted springs and spider webs now, it put Simone in mind of an ancient torture chamber. I’m all right. She soothed Vinnie, his eyes a mixture of trust and fear. He scooted closer to her until his head lay in her lap. She tried to see out the side window, but dirt and cracks covered it and obstructed much of her view. The minute glimpses she caught eased her mind somewhat. A tiny shop advertised bait and beer and a nautical themed boutique put her in mind of quaint New England harbor towns.

So, you’re rentin’ the Chase cottage, huh? Nice couple them two. Got money, no doubt, but nice none the same.

She’s my boss. She… The car hit a bump and rattled so loudly a frightened Simone grabbed the handle above her. Convinced only a matter of time remained until the entire contraption gave way at the seams and dumped her, Vinnie and Madge into the middle of the rutted road, she swallowed hard.

Madge turned as if she wondered why Simone stopped.

Her mouth dry, Simone began again. She’s lending me the place for a couple of weeks.

Her head took a pounding on this short trek to the cottage and she longed for it to end. Vinnie eyed her reproachfully and she flicked a cobweb off his ear.

Madge rolled her window down and the car became a wind tunnel. Simone tried to gather her long, brown hair together with one hand and calm a terrified Vinnie with the other.

You want me to roll my window up, sweetie? offered Madge. She stared at her in the duct-taped-on rearview mirror.

No, it’s fine, Simone lied. She brushed a strand of hair off her lip.

Weathered cottages tucked along the lakefront looked barren, waiting for the broods of happy families to take residence in them for the long, happy summer days ahead.

Further down, the island became more remote and they turned onto a dirt road that ran through a field of tall grasses. Simone concentrated on every detail to remember the way. Madge took a right by a grove of trees and the Chase cottage came into view.

It took Simone’s breath away and she let out a relieved sigh. An enchanted cottage, right out of a book by Beatrix Potter, Simone half-expected to see Tom Kitten or Jemima Puddle Duck stroll down the pathway to greet her.

The fairy tale feature of ornate trim, inherent in cottages of its kind, invited her mind to simpler, quainter days of old.

A large wraparound porch surrounded the entire structure, yet it stayed true to its purpose and provided a cozy place of solitude and repose. The light blue shingles and rose-colored shutters reminded her of butter cream icing that begged to be scraped from a gingerbread house and licked off eager fingers.

Beyond a small incline in the yard, the lake beckoned visitors in all its majestic beauty. The captivating scene recharged Simone. She gave Vinnie a nudge and hopped out to help retrieve the luggage from the trunk. How much do I owe you? Her attention shifted between the beauty of the cottage and the sights and sounds of the great lake. The sun’s rays beat onto her fair cheeks, making her glad she brought sunscreen. Freckles are cute on fourteen-year-olds, but not adults.

Why, honey, that wouldn’t be neighborly of me, takin’ money from a friend and all. You’re on the island, so that makes you my new friend.

Thank you. How kind. Shocked by the unexpected hospitality, Simone smiled.

Madge put a bag on the ground. You ever been up here…to the islands, that is?

No, this is my first time. Simone sensed a slight change in Madge’s countenance.

Be careful, little lady.

Simone studied her. Be careful of what? The strange woman’s comment baffled her out of her reverie.

Madge came close and gave her an intent stare. Of things appearing to be what they ain’t.

What do you mean? Simone swore coffee grounds clung to the eccentric woman’s teeth.

A queer gaze overtook Madge’s face. When it gets dark out, you get inside, don’t you wander.

I wasn’t planning on it. Simone retreated a step. I have to say you’re making me nervous.

Madge burst out laughing. Me, little old Madge, makin’ you nervous? Well, ain’t that a hoot! She squeezed behind the steering wheel, shook her head and snickered loudly. She turned the car around, stopped beside Simone and said loudly, What a hoot. She pulled away.

Her disturbed laughter echoed shrilly in Simone’s ears. Simone watched the rusted, green heap go around the bend and disappear. While she choked on the clouds of dust it left behind, she gazed at Vinnie as he trembled beside her.

Hey, pal, our new neighbor is kinda creepy, don’t you think? Vinnie glanced up at her, his concerned eyes spoke volumes. Simone knelt in front of him and rumpled his ears. But she don’t scare us none, huh, Buddy boy. She nuzzled her face into the scruff of his graying neck. Come on, Vinnarooni. She stood and grabbed his leash. Let’s check out our new digs.

Bordered by an English Garden leading to the porch, a brick walkway summoned her to her respite from the world. Vinnie hesitantly followed, caution in his step, tail tucked firmly between his legs.

Chapter Two

Under a pot of red geraniums, on the back steps, she found the tarnished skeleton key exactly where Nancy said it would be. It slid into the lock with ease and the door swung open into an enormous kitchen.

Decorated like a galley, a wooden ship wheel suspended from the rafters caught her eye. Pots and pans along with fishing nets hung from it and gave the room a maritime feel. The air, scented by a basket of potpourri on the counter, smelled of cinnamon and cloves and enhanced the pleasant, homey ambiance she sought.

She made her way into the living room and found subtle, muted colors of lavender, yellow and light grays on the walls and furniture. High-end antiques everywhere, the aroma of Old English Furniture Polish permeated the bright, open space. Late afternoon sun glittered against the lake and bounced into windows framed by Irish lace curtains. It generated unexpected warmth and welcome. She sighed.

She put her purse on a side table and said, Honey, I’m home. More familiar than her broken heart, the silence screamed at her. She sadly mused at the irony of running away from a lost love that never existed in the first place.

Joe Truft, a handsome, single, thirty-five-year-old, Simone’s clandestine love for years, had stomped on her delicate ego. His smile lit up the entire finance department at Jemco Incorporated and she loved to go to his cubicle to work on the CIMS 216 Data Report.

In her sad, wretched way, it resembled a date, at least to her. She’d wear perfume and de-lint her favorite blue suit on the appointed day. She never ate anything the night before that contained garlic or onion, but sucked mints just in case. She’d walk over with the plate of cookies she made him, eager to please.

Always polite, he never seemed interested in much more than the CIMS 216 Data Report. Until the new accountant—a thin, blonde, twenty-something with a smile also lighting up the finance department—came to work. Their smiles, tired of the competition eventually teamed up into one gigantic smirk. White, straight teeth shining in perpetual, nauseating glee, their engagement announcement devastated her.

Everyone knew Simone’s heart ached, but didn’t know what to say. Her boss, Nancy, also a good friend, suggested a couple of weeks off at her cottage. She jumped at the chance.

Simone shook her head and tried to forget Joe and the sting of his—rejection? No, not even that. He never even knew I existed enough to reject me. I am truly pathetic.

She spotted Vinnie, who lay on a braided rug in front of the fireplace and sent him an affectionate look. Well, my dearest Vinners, it didn’t take you long to make yourself at home, did it? His affectionate gaze met hers and his sad legs shook with the effort to stand.

Come on, Vince, old man, let’s find something to eat.

Charlie, Nancy’s husband, had fished at the cottage a couple of days before and stocked the refrigerator with food and drink for her stay. Their generosity humbled Simone. Even dog food sat in the pantry for Vinnie. Simone appreciated Nancy’s way of making her feel at ease, a small balm for her bankrupt heart.

She made herself a sandwich and poured a glass of white wine. She placed both her and Vinnie’s lunch on a wide, wicker tray and went out to the sunny back porch. With her shoes kicked off, she positioned a comfy rocker looking directly out at the lake and settled into it with a sigh.

They ate their lunch there and listened to the peeps make the sweet music of a late Ohio spring in the wildflower fields around them.

She savored the last delectable morsel and put her tired head back. Accustomed to her new environment, sleep enveloped her. Vinnie and she stayed this way for over an hour, until a male voice pulled her out of her slumber, disoriented and confused.

Hello! Deep and strident it rang in her ears.

Vaguely, she looked around and called out from a throat hoarse from rest. Who is it? Softly, she coughed and yelled out again. Hello, can I help you? She turned her head left, then right.

Ma’am, it’s me, over here. I didn’t mean to startle you. I wanted to introduce myself as I’m staying not far from here. I believe I’m your closest neighbor.

Her hand shielded her eyes from the bright sun that hung low over the lake and she strained for a better glimpse of the man who stood at the bottom step of the porch. Hi, I’m Simone. She cautiously adjusted the collar of her shirt, in case she became disheveled during her nap. I’m a friend of the Chases. I’m staying here for a couple of weeks.

Yes, I know. I wanted to make your acquaintance. If there’s anything you may need, I’m right over yonder. He pointed to the grove of trees.

Simone perceived a pronounced Southern accent. Oh…the Chases mentioned a neighbor down the road, but I assumed it was a mile or so.

He glanced over to the lane. Well, I’m not that far, maybe you misunderstood.

Yes, I guess maybe I did. His good looks pleasantly surprised her. I’m sorry, Simone stood. I didn’t catch your name. He smiled and the sun against his back framed his image in her mind like an instant photo.

My name’s Jackson, ma’am, Jackson Taylor. He bowed his head gallantly, his neatly trimmed mustache and beard reminiscent of a Knight of the Round Table. His long, thin frame, enhanced by the gray pants and white shirt he wore, showed off a well-built, muscular physique. The soft wind blew his light brown hair into his eyes and he ran his hand through it in an attempt to brush it away from his tan face.

Simone relaxed around him, the opposite of her usual response to someone of the opposite sex. Please, Mr. Taylor…

He interrupted her. Jackson, call me Jackson.

Jackson, can I offer you a drink? A glass of lemonade, perhaps?

I don’t mean to put you out or anything. I just wanted to stop by and let you know I’m around is all. I’m always walking back and forth, here or there. I didn’t want you to get nervous.

Her eyes quickly glanced for a wedding ring.

Jackson continued. I live in the caretaker’s cottage by… He turned and pointed. An enormous brown dog bolted out of the brush and circled Jackson twice, then planted his sandy, wet paws firmly on his chest.

Vinnie, startled, barked in a halfhearted attempt to let the other dog know trespassers weren’t welcome and the large dog’s head turned toward him.

Okay, enough Blue, get off. Jackson’s voice held an edge of strong command. Loud and firm, yet kind.

Who’s this? Simone’s intrigued gaze followed the dog. Blue, a Bloodhound with long, floppy ears resembled the Hound Dogs she’d seen in the movies. A caricature of the breed itself.

Vinnie growled at the intruder while he made his way down the steps.

This here is, Blue, ma’am. He’s my huntin’…well, he’s my dog.

How old is Blue? He looks the same age as my Vinnie. Simone walked down a step and put her hand on Vinnie’s back as he emitted a low growl and she petted him for assurance.

Blue’s older than the hills, ma’am, older than the hills.

Vinnie made his way to Blue and the two dogs sniffed each other cautiously. Vinnie decided Blue didn’t pose any immediate danger, so he pawed at him as a possible playmate.

Jackson and Simone laughed and watched them run around.

Simone chuckled, amazed. I haven’t seen Vinnie up and running this much in years. She shook her head in astonishment. Look at him go.

They enjoyed their antics for a minute more before Jackson excused himself. It’s been a pleasure, ma’am.

Simone smiled and extended her hand to him. The pleasure is mine. He grasped it firmly and shook while they smiled into each other’s eyes.

He called after Blue and the dog came to him. Like I said, I’ll be around, so don’t be surprised to see me walking through. I sure hope it won’t be too much of a bother.

No. I’m here for nothing more than to relax. You can’t disturb me even if you try.

He smiled, turned and walked out of sight, into the grove of trees next to the cottage. His wavy hair hung even with his shoulders and for a reason she couldn’t understand, she longed to reach out and run her fingers through it. She folded her arms to mentally stop her mind from such thoughts.

Knock it off, Simone. You have no idea who he is. You’re getting away from the silliness of crushes and the hurt men cause. Don’t go looking for it here.

Back in her chair, she chewed on her nails, while his soft, blue eyes and brown wavy hair played on her mind. She allowed herself a few longing sighs, but upped her determination not to allow anything to engage her, except healing and relaxation.

Chapter Three

A storm rumbled in the distance and turned the tender, new leaves of spring inside out. Simone grabbed the remains of her lunch and rubbed Vinnie’s back with her bare foot. He lazily stretched and rose to follow her inside.

After she met her interesting neighbor, she poured herself another glass of wine, tuned in soft music on the radio and sat in an overstuffed chair by the bay window. Thoughts of Jackson consumed her. For the first time in her life, she talked to a man without strain. Deeper into the fluffy chair she sank and wondered what he did that afforded him the luxury of life on an island? Mostly, though, she pondered the delightful lack of a wedding ring.

Well, Simone glimpsed at Vinnie, who again lay on the braided rug in his spot by the fireplace, I hope I find out soon.

The low tick of a clock came from a museum quality timepiece in a corner mahogany bookcase. She stood and walked over to run a finger over the glass-covered face and realized how late it had gotten.

She heard another low mumble of ominous thunder, closer this time and scanned the books on a shelf for something to read in bed. Curiously, she noticed most titles dealt with the supernatural. Nancy mentioned casually once, she and Charlie were interested in those types of things, but from the looks of their library collection, they were consumed with the paranormal.

I don’t think I should read these while here alone, Vinnie. She frowned at her faithful companion and he whined as if to agree. The book Walden Lake, wedged in between a couple of bigger books, caught her eye. Simone picked it out. Now this is more like it. She smiled at Vinnie. More my speed.

In her nightgown, she attempted to start a fire in the small hearth next to her bed. A lighter shook in her hand while she tried to get the log to burst into flame and she cocked her head. There’s something more to this. She waited for a fire to catch, but unable to ignite the log, shrugged and climbed into the fragrant, crisp sheets.

Storms made her nervous, but tucked in tightly, a good book and a candle next to her, the thunder and rain comforted her in a strange way. All cozy and warm, she found a homeopathic way to ward off the boding evil storms carry in their gale force winds.

In the all white guest room, a vase of sunflowers sat on top of the dresser. A note, in Nancy’s whimsical script, flowed with hopes for Simone to enjoy a truly restful