Before she could answer that question, she heard a knock on the front door. The night was getting more bizarre by the minute. Could it be Katie? She suddenly remembered that Katie had gone to a party that evening to celebrate the team’s championship season. She breathed a sigh of relief. Now the question was whether she’d ground Katie for breaking curfew or whether she’d cut her some slack. Rules were rules, and yet Shepherd’s Bay had won the only state softball championship in its school’s history. It had been over twenty years since any Shepherd’s Bay team had won a title in Maine.
The Glock. She felt stupid now for taking it out of the safe. And yet its presence next to her all these years had allowed her to sleep soundly at night, especially when Ray slipped out to conduct whatever business venture he happened to be working on at the time.
She went into her bedroom to place the gun back in the safe, reengaged the lock with a push of a button on the keypad, then double-checked that she had securely locked the safe door. She went downstairs, praying that Katie hadn’t drunk alcohol or got in a car with an inebriated friend.
When she returned downstairs, she saw Karl Bjornson, dressed in his police uniform, sitting at the kitchen table with her father. Her father was conversing with Karl as if they were old friends, and he laughed as he recounted old tales about fishing with the cop’s father. Five minutes ago her father had been stumbling around the kitchen in a daze, breaking glasses and staring into the barrel of a gun. Now he was remembering events from thirty years ago with precision and clarity. The doctors had explained that his disease would have its ups and downs, but as she watched him now, the complexity of the human brain revealed itself in all its frailty. Good thing she’d taken her father in when she did.
Karl faced away from her and didn’t see her at the kitchen doorway. For whatever reason, she’d forgotten that she’d called the station in a moment of panic. His presence both disappointed her and brought back old memories. Not because of the intimate past they had once shared, but mostly because he wasn’t Katie. She wished she could tuck her girl into bed, with a kiss and a gentle hug, and let her sleep until noon. Maybe it was a good thing Katie had gone to a party and stayed past her curfew tonight. It meant her little girl wasn’t so little anymore. After next year she’d be off to college and gone for good.
She stood with her arms crossed, admiring Karl from afar, impressed by the way he sat listening to her father retell his old stories, stories that she’d heard hundreds of times before. Karl looked good, although she could see only the back of his dirty-blond head. She’d seen him around town throughout the years, their lives occasionally overlapping.
Working at her salon, she overheard everything that happened in Shepherd’s Bay, even when people didn’t think she was listening. Unless she was in the back room, Isla knew whenever Karl cruised past the shop, and she was certain that he made detours around the block to observe her. The idea that he still liked her made her happy in a small sort of way. She remembered glancing out the window one morning and seeing him sitting in that fancy coffee shop across the street, drinking coffee and pretending to read the paper next to the floor-to-ceiling window. He’d worn a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. She remembered thinking at the time, Of all people, why is Karl Bjornson in the downtown area and drinking coffee at an expensive café?
She and Karl had dated their senior year, and it had been an unlikely pairing. He’d been the quiet, shy boy who grabbed his backpack and disappeared alone in the woods. She’d been outgoing and active, and she’d had friends in every clique. She’d starred in the school’s musicals and acted in the award-winning dramas. That she ended up falling for him had surprised even her. Their mutual attraction had been a slow burn, and the more time she had spent with him, the more she had appreciated his gentle nature and bone-dry humor.
But she’d had goals to accomplish and things to do before settling down. She’d forgotten how ambitious she’d been as an energetic high school senior. She’d hoped to attend college and then try her hand at acting. Maybe move to New York City and make a go of it. The men of her dad’s generation had typically graduated from Shepherd’s Bay High and married their high school sweetheart and then had either followed their father into lobster fishing or ended up toiling in the boatyard. The more adventurous and more ambitious male high school graduates had made the one-hour journey to the shipyard and had worked on the massive vessels being constructed for the navy. The young women had married and become wives and mothers and stayed home to take care of their children.
Somehow, she had dropped out of college and ended up with Ray, known as Swisher to everyone in town. She’d returned to Shepherd’s Bay before she could accomplish all the things she’d set out to do. Before she got a chance to travel to Europe and visit all the places she hoped to see. Or act in an off-Broadway play. Despite all of Swisher’s faults, and he had many, she rarely looked back on her life and regretted the decision she’d made, mostly because of the precious gifts Ray had given her: Katie and Raisin.
And yet as she watched Karl conversing with her father, she couldn’t help but wonder what might have been had she stayed with him. Or whether she might have found true love with the strange boy she fell hard for back in high school. Her religion had taught her that God had a plan for everyone. For whatever reason, God had given her this life, and she couldn’t complain.
She cleared her throat and made her way into the kitchen. Upon seeing her, Karl stood and smiled. She wished she had a pot of coffee brewing and some pastries to offer. It was the least she could do after he had rushed over here and had humored her old man for a few minutes, something Ray never did. Ray had little patience for anything, and she was convinced beyond a doubt that Ray suffered from some undiagnosed form of ADD.
“False alarm,” she said, resting her hand on her father’s shoulder. “But thanks for coming.”
“I told you it was the wind.”
“Oh, it definitely was not the wind,” she said, laughing. He had seen the broken glass on the floor and was trying to be nice. “Hey, you want a cup of coffee?”
“I really should be returning to the station.”
“Oh, come on, Karl. Sit down. It’ll take only a few minutes to brew a pot. And it’s not like there’s tons of criminal activity going on tonight.” She filled the coffeemaker’s water reservoir and pulled out a bag of the expensive coffee she’d purchased from that café across from her shop. “Look, I have the good stuff, which I save for special guests. French roast.” She added the coffee grounds into the filter and switched the machine on.
“It’s been a slow night, and I certainly could use a good cup,” he said, sitting back down.
“Can’t imagine the police station splurges for good coffee.”
“Not with this chief in charge. Harry counts every penny.”
“Stay put. I need to put my father to bed, and I’ll be right back.” She guided her father to his small bedroom on the first floor, kissed him good night, and then tucked him under the covers.
“Thank you, Clara,” he mumbled. Clara was her mother’s name.
“It’s Isla, Dad. I’m your daughter, remember?”