Safe In His Arms. Christine Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ the store wasn’t close to any of the resorts, Jessie assumed them to be locals. Their curious stares at her appearance gave credence to her suspicions.

      More than curiosity, Jessie corrected herself, their reactions were out-and-out odd. A woman at the dairy section nearly dropped a carton of eggs when she looked up and saw Jessie standing beside her. An older man rammed his cart into a display of stacked canned goods as he watched her pass him by. For the first time in her life, Jessie actually felt paranoid. First she’d been slighted by one of the island’s citizens on the highway. Now, for apparently no other reason than her being new to town, she was being ogled like a mermaid in a fishbowl by her fellow shoppers.

      What was wrong with the people in this town?

      Unnerved by the unexpected attention, she concentrated on composing a mental shopping list. Deciding it best to buy only enough supplies for a couple of days, she picked up a small carton of milk, fresh fruit and bread. For dinner she bought chicken, a potato for baking and greens for a salad. Satisfied, she went to the front counter to check out.

      An older woman, with coarse, steel-gray hair and sharp, green eyes, rang up her groceries. The task was accomplished in a strained silence, until the woman narrowed her gaze and barked out a sharp demand. “Where are you from, young lady? You’re lookin’ awful familiar.”

      The question sounded more like an accusation. Jessie’s eyes widened in surprise. Flustered, she blurted out a stilted response. “Atlanta…I’m from Atlanta, Georgia.”

      “Humph—I coulda sworn I’d seen you before,” the woman said, her skepticism obvious. Then, with a dismissive shrug, she continued, “So, you’re a tourist, eh? The resorts are on the other side of the island. What brings you clear over here?”

      “My car. I, uh, sort of had an accident. It’s being repaired.”

      The woman tsked loudly. “That’s too bad. Not a good way to start a vacation. Some of the hotels have shuttle services. You might be able to get someone to pick you up while you’re waiting.”

      “Well, actually, I’m not staying at any of the resorts.”

      “That right?” The woman raised one graying brow. “Where are you staying?”

      Remembering the stranger on the highway and his reaction when she told him of her new residence, she hesitated. Another customer, a middle-aged, blond-haired woman, stepped up beside her, waiting her turn in line. Feeling uncomfortable, wishing the conversation to be over, Jessie murmured quietly, “Gull’s Cottage.”

      She might as well have shouted her answer. Their reactions couldn’t have been any more extreme. Both women appeared shocked by the news. They exchanged quick glances, their expressions guarded.

      The blonde standing beside her was the first to recover. She gave a nervous laugh. “I didn’t know Gull’s Cottage was for rent this summer.”

      “It’s not,” Jessie said, still trying to understand the reason for their reactions. “I own it.”

      The gray-haired woman blinked, not bothering to hide her disbelief. “You bought Gull’s Cottage?”

      “No, I inherited it. It was my mother’s.”

      Silence followed her announcement. The words hung in the air like a dark and ominous cloud. The gray-haired woman stared at her. Finally she said, “I thought I recognized you. You’re Eve Pierce’s daughter…little Jessie.”

      “Y-yes, I am. But how—”

      “Lord, help us,” the blonde murmured beside her. Her face paled; she looked as though she’d seen a ghost.

      The gray-haired woman stared mutely.

      Jessie glanced from one woman to the other, confusion building inside her. “I’m sorry. Should I know you?”

      “No, you wouldn’t,” the gray-haired woman said finally, her searching eyes never leaving Jessie’s face. “You were too young, just a little thing when it all happened.”

      Jessie’s confusion turned to unease. “When what happened?”

      “Don’t you know, honey?” the blonde piped in.

      She shook her head. “Know what?”

      “About your mother,” the blonde said, her tone matter-of fact, as though she assumed Jessie had a clue as to what she was talking about.

      “You mean, about Eve Pierce? I…I know she died here on the island…” Jessie hesitated. Just how much did she really want to tell these women? Was it wise to admit how little she knew of her past? But finding out about her mother and understanding her past was the reason she was here. Taking a chance, she drew in a breath and admitted, “The truth is, I was adopted when I was five. I really don’t have any memory of my birth mother.”

      “Oh, honey, that’s too bad,” the blonde said. “Then you don’t know about Gull’s Cottage. About the way Eve was—”

      “Sarah,” the gray-haired woman said sharply. Disapproval laced her tone. “We’ve kept this young woman long enough. There’s no need to fill her head with gossip.”

      Looking contrite, the blonde glanced away, refusing to meet Jessie’s gaze.

      What was going on here? What was it they weren’t telling her?

      Stiffly the gray-haired woman handed her the bag of groceries. “That’ll be $18.50.”

      Her hands shook as Jessie fumbled in her purse for the money. She wanted to demand that they finish telling her about her mother. But her instincts were telling her not to ask…that whatever they had to say, it was bound to be bad news.

      After the day she’d already had, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear it.

      Chiding herself for being such a coward, she handed the money to the gray-haired woman, mumbled a quick thank-you, then fled the store.

      The sun was beginning to set by the time Jessie pulled her car into the lane leading to Gull’s Cottage, her new home for the summer. Still shaken by her encounter at the grocery store, she pushed the troubling events from her mind, focusing her attention instead on the narrow, rutted lane.

      It looked as though it had been a long time since anyone had traveled this way. From what she’d learned, she would be the first to stay in the house in nearly twenty-five years. She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of condition the cottage might be in. If the lane were any indication, she expected the worst.

      The lot was pie shaped, with the widest part of the slice at the entrance. The tip was at the end of the lane, where she assumed the property emptied out onto the beach. In between, there was a thick tangle of towering oaks, palmettos and untamed underbrush. The dense mixture cast the grounds into a premature darkness, giving the property a haunted, eerie feel.

      Jessie shook off her discomfort, telling herself her unease was nothing more than the wearing effects of a growing headache and an empty stomach. Both of which would be taken care of once she’d unpacked her bags and had settled in for the night.

      The trees thinned and the waning sunlight peeked through, relieving her anxiety. The reprieve СКАЧАТЬ