She was talking, but he wasn’t listening. Something about a bonfire or a party—and then she added, “I expect you to come visit me now that you’re on the island.”
He gave her a wave and walked out the door, practically racing down the stairs of the little cottage and out to his Jeep. He started the engine and drove around the block, aware that Maggie stood on the front porch, watching him go. He didn’t need to be watched. He needed to be alone.
It was everything. This island. Seaside. The story of this kid. Louisa nearly drowning.
Coming here had been a mistake. And he needed to figure out a way to undo it.
Dear Dad,
I’m sitting in the backyard of our house in Chicago. I’m wearing that black suit Mom picked out for my last homecoming dance—you remember, the one that I can’t stand? I didn’t want to wear it today, either, but they said it was important to dress appropriately for a funeral.
They asked if I wanted to say a few words about you or share a story or a memory, but I said no. I hope that’s okay. I guess maybe I just didn’t feel like sharing. Maybe I wanted to keep my memories for myself.
Or maybe I feel so guilty over what I did that the thought of standing up there made me feel like a phony.
Mom doesn’t look the same. It’s like someone sucked all the life right out of her. She’s pale and sad all the time, but she’s also angry. I don’t know if she’s mad at me or you or Lou or Lou’s parents or everyone. Maybe it’s everyone.
Everything’s changed. We’re moving. We sold Seaside. I’m looking for a job to help out where I can, but nothing is the same anymore.
I know you did what you did because you love me, but I wonder if you realized how hard it would be to live with the guilt of what happened.
Maybe it would’ve been better if I had been the one who drowned.
Maybe then none of this would hurt so bad.
Can you ever forgive me?
Cody
CHAPTER EIGHT
“YOU SHOULD’VE TOLD ME,” CODY SAID. “It would’ve been nice to know what we were up against.”
It was the day after his impromptu dinner at Louisa’s, and Duncan sat behind his desk. “Let me remind you which one of us is in charge. Before you forget yourself.”
Cody straightened. He was dangerously close to being out of line, and he knew it. His master chief might give him more leeway than most ranking officers would, but even Duncan had a breaking point.
Cody drew in a deep breath. “Apologies, Master Chief.”
Duncan motioned toward the seat opposite his desk. “I intended to fill you in on everything I knew, but you had a pretty eventful day yesterday.”
That was fair. It had been quite a day. And Cody hadn’t exactly been mentally present for their conversation.
“Can you fill me in now?”
“I’m assuming you heard about the kid in a coma.”
“Yes.”
“And about Jessup’s remarks?”
“Yes.”
“Then you already know everything.”
“Is this why they brought you in?” Cody asked.
“No, but this is the mess I inherited when the guy before me retired. We’ve got an image problem.”
Cody sighed. “Great.”
It was hard sometimes to get communities to listen to their instructions as it was, but if they had an image problem, it would be even more difficult. They needed people to listen; otherwise they would end up with more tragedies like Jackson Wirth.
“I know you’re not much of a people person, but I’m going to need your help on this,” Duncan said.
Cody’s hands inadvertently fisted around the arms of the chair. “Yeah, you said that. But what am I supposed to do?”
“We need to fix the way the community sees us. I need you to fix it.”
Cody stifled a groan. “This is not my area.”
“Well, it is now,” Duncan said. “There’s a company here we can hire to help with the logistics, but we need to get out in front of this thing.”
“Isn’t it a little late for that? The kid has been in a coma for months.”
Duncan leaned forward in his chair. “I think we’ve got an opportunity here.”
“Meaning?”
“The community loves a good story, and yesterday you gave them a good story.”
“I did my job.”
“Shall we split hairs on whose job you actually did?” He stared at Cody with an arched brow.
Point taken. Cody should’ve been written up for his actions on the boat yesterday. A Coastie does what he can to save a swimmer in distress without entering the water. Had they exhausted all possibilities before he went in after Louisa? Probably not.
“To the rest of the world, you’re a hero. They don’t know that as the XPO, you really shouldn’t have been the one in the water. To them, you went above and beyond, and that’s what people need to know about us. We’ll do whatever it takes to save a life. Even risk our own.”
“That’s the job.”
“Right, but the general public doesn’t always think that. Thanks to Seaman Jessup, they have a totally different opinion of us.”
Cody frowned. “I have to believe most people are smarter than that. They’re not all sheep—they can make up their own minds.”
“Regardless, we need to get out in the community. We need to become more of a presence, maybe even hold an event or two where we mingle with the islanders. If they get to know us, they’ll respect us. If they respect us, they’ll listen to us. They’ll die less.”
“Sounds like you should’ve hired a community events coordinator,” Cody said. “You know I wouldn’t have applied for that job.”
“I got a better idea,” Duncan said. “We marry the Coast Guard with the community. We work together on a few events to get our name out there, but we work with people in the community. I thought about putting someone else on this, but after yesterday, after the way people are responding to you saving that girl, I knew it had to be you.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Cody said, though he was absolutely sure this was a terrible idea. What he needed was to be transferred off the island. Not to cozy up with the locals and weasel his way into their community. He preferred to keep people at a distance.
“I’m sure,” the master chief said. “Now, you can head out today and run a few drills with the guys.” He slid a light-blue business card across the desk. “Be here tomorrow at 0900. We’ll meet with them, and they’ll help us get a game plan.”
He picked up the card. The Good Life. “What is this?”
“Event planners. People who are better at this stuff than we are.”
“That could be anyone,” Cody said. “Because everyone is better at this than I am.”
“You’re going to be just fine,” Duncan said. “Do you need to talk to someone about what happened?”
Cody stilled. “Why?”
Duncan shrugged. “It’s important to process these things so they don’t pile up on you. Sometimes a guy needs to unload.”
“I’m fine,” Cody said. A lie if he’d ever told one, but Duncan didn’t need to know that. Cody didn’t want to talk to a therapist or Duncan or anyone else. He wanted to stop thinking about Louisa’s cold body, about the initials and hash marks tattooed on the inside of his arm. About the hovering memories that followed him wherever he went on this island.