The Sweetest Summer: A Bayberry Island Novel (18 page)

Clancy didn’t trust a word that came out of either side of that man’s mouth. Nobody got to serve four terms in Congress by baring his soul. Politics didn’t work that way. Richard Wahlman was doing this for a reason. He had to gain something from his public shaming, either politically, financially, or personally.

It took time for Clancy to wind his way through the Island Day crowds, not only because Main Street was packed but because he was on alert. It was his job. Every time he nodded toward someone, caught someone’s eye, or returned a smile or friendly greeting, he was checking for any sign of illegal or dangerous activity. It’s just what cops did—a lost kid, concealed weapons, shoplifting, narcotics possession, indecent exposure, young men on the verge of fistfights, public intox. The vast majority of visitors to Bayberry Island were there simply to commune with the mermaid while letting their inner oddball out to play. Yet it was his job to find anyone who could potentially pose a threat to public safety.

Clancy caught himself, and laughed out loud. Here he was, worried about someone stealing an origami seagull when the nation’s most-wanted kidnapper was hanging out at his place doing a load of laundry. Sometimes, you just had to believe everything would work out fine. Otherwise, life could make you crazy.

Clancy had been there a few times. There were mornings when he woke up and assumed it would be just another day, only to find himself living a different life by the time the sun set. Some changes were good, some bad, and others would take years before he knew what the hell had happened. The day Frasier told the family that the fishery was bankrupt was a bad day. The day he—and Mr. Katsakis—found Barbie in room forty-seven of the Sand Dollar Motel appeared to be a bad day at first, but Clancy soon saw it was a blessing. But never had his life been tossed up in the air and turned upside down as it was the day Evie returned to Bayberry Island. He chose to have faith—because the alternative was unthinkable.

All that said, Clancy had to be honest with himself. He wanted her. In the middle of this giant shit storm, he wanted to touch her more, kiss her longer, and discover what her life had been like through the years.

He needed to know if that summer had ever meant anything to her.

Clancy wasn’t proud of the level of his frustration. It took everything he had not to stare at Evie like a starving man, and it was downright painful to not be able to talk to her freely. It wasn’t Christina’s fault, but the little girl’s presence complicated things, big-time.

Clancy saw his father waving.

“Oh thank God!” Frasier clomped down the steps of the cook-off stage and gestured for Clancy to meet him behind the Island Day command center, otherwise known as the family’s 1978 Winnebago trailer. He pointed to a covered lobster pot sitting on the grass. “Here it is. Exhibit A.”

Clancy was confused. “Uh, what am I supposed to do with a giant-assed tub of chili? Why don’t you just dispose of it?”

Frasier shook his head. “If I poured it down the sewer the whole island would be seeing tie-dyed dolphins.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Da.”

“I want arrests made. I need you to take this in for evidence.”

“Take it where?” Clancy chuckled. “You know I don’t work for NCIS, right? I don’t have some cute Goth chick in pigtails in the basement, fiddling with every technology known to forensic science. If I took this chili in as evidence, I’d have to ship it to the state police lab in Sudbury, and it could take months to get results back.”

“Are you sure?”

Clancy put his arm around his father’s shoulder and grinned. “Well, now, you might have a point. Seeing as how there’s no actual crime associated with this pot of allegedly tainted chili, it could take years.”

Frasier’s mouth fell open. “So . . . that’s it? That’s all you’re going to do?”

Clancy patted his dad’s back. “I’m afraid so.” Just then, he was struck with an idea. “Unless we can work out a deal.”

Frasier narrowed his eyes. “Does this have anything to do with your mother?”

“Uh, wow. No.” Clancy shook his head nice and slow. “I don’t want anywhere near that subject.”

Frasier glanced up to the heavens and said, “Thank Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the wee donkey.” Then he returned his attention to Clancy. “What do you propose?”

“I’ll take the hallucinogenic chili back to the station if you fill in for me the rest of the week at the dock.”

Frasier grimaced. “The rest of the week? Ah, son. That’s harsh.”

“Remember that year you made me clean bird shit from the mermaid scales?”

His father narrowed one eye.

“Payback is a bitch, Da.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Frasier held out his hand to shake on the deal. “Done. Thank you. We’re gonna throw the book at them.”

Clancy carried the heavy chili pot a full block before he reached the police Jeep. He tucked it between the passenger seat and the dash, moving the sun hat and baseball cap far away just in case there was any chili spillage. He wanted to be careful even though the hats weren’t anything fancy. He’d stopped by a couple vendor tents so he’d have something to give the girls. For Evie he got a generic straw hat with a wide brim and a flowery ribbon. It was a lot more girlie-girlie than the one she lost in the water, and much larger, and it would hide her face better. And for Christina—
Chris
—he found a kid-sized Red Sox cap, which he hoped would check the “unisex” box because he had to cut his Island Day shopping trip short.

A few minutes later, Clancy let himself in the back entrance of the police station and went immediately to
the break room. He transferred a decent amount of the chili to a plastic container and poured the rest down the garbage disposal, public acid trips be damned. He placed the container into an evidence bag and scrawled on a Post-it Note, which he stuck to the bag. It read:
“Do not eat. May be tainted. Sending to Sudbury for analysis
.” He stuck the bag in the freezer.

He went into the front office, where he found a solo Jake. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Chief.”

The dogs burst from their sleeping spot under the desk, nearly knocking Jake onto his ass.

“Whoa. Settle down,” Clancy said, petting them. “Where is everyone today. Anything going on?”

“Just sent Deon out to check on a couple cyclists who crashed into each other on the southern side of the bike trail.”

“Injuries?”

“Scraped knees. EMTs responding.”

“Ordinance violations?”

“Deon says they were wearing helmets and didn’t appear to be intoxicated, so unless we’re citing people for being dumbshits, then no.”

“Ha. All right. Look, I’d like to be off the grid for a couple hours. Call if it’s an emergency. I’ll be back for the dogs later.”

“Got it, Chief.”

“Any news on the kidnapping suspect?”

“Not a peep.”

On the drive home, Clancy realized he should be feeling relieved that there were no Evie sightings. Instead, the closer he got to his house, the more wound-up he felt. His emotions and thoughts were whipping around like an invisible cyclone. This was it. If Evie was still there, then he was about to cross a line. Clancy had already pledged to help her—and now he was going to discover just what he’d signed up for. He was a man of his word, but what would she tell him? How would he
find a way to help her without compromising everything he believed in?

He had butterflies, too. Jesus, he actually had butterflies in his stomach at the idea that Evie could be there when he opened the door.

He’d felt like this only one other time, the summer he was fourteen. He would jump out of bed each morning and race to see the pretty tourist girl. They would meet at the boat dock, or at Haven Beach, or in front of Frankie’s, and then spend every possible second with each other. Every day it was the same—butterflies in his belly, his brain charged with the thrill of sexual chemistry, and his heart exploding with something powerful and strange.

Over the years, Clancy told himself the experience had been nothing but the chemical mirage of puberty, a cocktail of hormones, summertime freedom, and the ego boost of being crazy about a girl who was crazy about him, too. Turned out he was wrong.

It wasn’t hormones or ego—it was Evie.

Clancy pulled the Jeep into the drive and took a deep steadying breath. The situation was far more complicated this go-round. It was time for them to sort it all out.

Eighteen years ago . . .

A
s much fun as he was having with Evie, and as crazy as he was about her, Clancy wouldn’t be able to see her that evening. Technically, he
could
see her, but that would mean he’d have to invite her to his family’s annual festival-week cookout—something he wouldn’t do even to his worst enemy.

It just wouldn’t work. There would be relatives there from the mainland and all kinds of nosy questions and comments—
ooh, do you have a girlfriend? She’s a tourist girl? Well aren’t you Mr. Hot Stuff!
He didn’t want to embarrass her like that. Also, he didn’t want Evie to meet Duncan. She’d probably be offended by the shit he would say to Clancy, right in front of her, and he might even try to hit on Evie just to see if he could steal her away. Sometimes, he wished his big brother was still sick and stuck in bed. He’d been a lot easier to deal with back then. Duncan had gotten a fat head on him lately. He thought he was the shit.

Clancy walked toward the boatyard, where they’d planned to meet to go for a run on the beach together. When they discovered that they both competed in distance events for their track teams, it opened a whole
world in common. It gave him yet another reason to want to spend time with her.

But he really shouldn’t have said he could go out with her tonight to watch the reenactment. He just didn’t want to hurt her feelings or make her think he wasn’t into her. Because he was. He was seriously into Evie.

It was hard to believe that he’d known her for only five days. It seemed like forever to him, like there was nothing but a big blank before she showed up on the island and tried to drown herself at the Point. Clancy asked himself many times when exactly he knew she was special. He always came up with the same answer: the moment she reached out through the waves to shake his hand and thank him for saving her. Most other girls would have been hanging on him, crying and shaking and gulping for air because they’d almost died. Not Evie.

Just then he saw her off in the distance. He wanted to ask her to the Mermaid Ball. A real date. But he was scared shitless. Why? Because he was crazy about her, and if she said no, it would crush him. He might not live through it.

Man, this love thing was hard.

But why her? Why was it suddenly this girl that made him light up? One thing was probably the delicate way she touched him—the same way she’d touched the wind chime—like he was one in a million. Like he was priceless. And her kisses were sweet but they meant business. He lived for that first brush of her lips against his, and then the rush he felt when things got wild. He could tell she was really into it, but was holding back because she didn’t want to look like she was a bad girl.

God, that was hot.

Sometimes, Clancy wondered what would happen between the two of them if the situation were different—no parents, no curfews, no siblings, and hours of privacy. Nuclear meltdown, probably. They’d generate enough heat to melt the beaches into glass.

Damn. He needed to stop his imagination from
heading in that direction. It only tortured him, because he knew it was true—he would do it with Evie in a heartbeat if he thought she was cool with it and they wouldn’t get caught.

Evie waved to him. He waved back, groaning in frustration. Why did the world make it almost impossible for teenagers to experiment with sex? At least on Bayberry Island, anyway? He couldn’t believe that news of their hot beach make-out session got back to his mom. She was sort of chill about it, asking him if he needed his dad to buy him protection.
But oh my God
—Clancy would rather die than have to talk about the details of his sex life with either of his parents ever again.
Just shoot me now.

Evie was perched on the boardwalk railing, near the public boat dock office. She wore a pair of dark blue nylon running shorts that showed off her long and lightly tanned legs, a sports bra running top, and had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, like the first day he’d met her. She waited for him, watching as he approached her. As soon as he got close, she widened her legs so he could stand between them. He kissed her.

Uh-oh. Since he wasn’t packin’ a wind chime that day, he needed to back away a bit.

“Hey, Clancy.”

“Hey, Evie. Ready to run?”

“If you’re sure you can keep up with me.”

“Well, baby, if anyone could get the better of me, it would be you.”

They helped each other stretch out. Clancy tried his best not to stare at her butt and thighs and hips, but failed. Once they started out, they wound their way through the alleys to the beach path, headed down to the hard-packed sand.

“It’s exactly two-point-six miles until it becomes private property. So I figured we’d go the length, then run up to Shoreline Road, down the bike path, and back into town. Just shy of six miles in all.”

“Sounds great.”

They smiled at each other quickly, Clancy admiring how her ponytail would swing back and forth with her stride. He had to say that her running form was excellent—efficient and relaxed. Her gaze was forward, her shoulders were straight but not tight, and her torso and hips were perfectly aligned, upright but not rigid. She looked perfectly at home running. In fact, Clancy decided he’d never seen a sight more beautiful than Evie in full stride, the green-blue of the ocean behind her.

Once they reached Shoreline, they headed to the bike path, parts of which were in shade and caught the southern cross-breeze.

Evie spoke as they kept running. “I’m sorry, but I have to tell you something.”

“What’s wrong? Do you have a cramp?”

“Ha! No. Do you?”

They both laughed, recognizing the friendly competition that existed between them on this run. It turned Clancy on so much that he wished he could just throw her down in the pine needles and get jiggy with her.

“I can’t go to the reenactment with you tonight. I’m sorry. It’s my dad’s birthday, and my mom wants us all together to celebrate while we’re on vacation.”

“Seriously?”

“Are you mad?”

Clancy laughed, knowing he’d dodged a bullet. “Of course not. I was getting ready to tell you the same thing—tonight is my family’s stupid annual cookout. I thought about inviting you, but you’d have to meet everyone, including my brother, who is a complete ass.”

She laughed. “I guess we’re cool, then.”

Clancy reached out and gave her ponytail a friendly tug. “I have a feeling that we’re always going to be cool with each other, no matter what.”

For some reason, he just couldn’t spit it out about the Mermaid Ball. He was crazy nervous. But the more they ran the more time was running out. If he didn’t do it now, it wouldn’t happen.

After their run was over, Clancy saw Evie to the motel and pulled her behind the loblolly pines. He asked for a good-bye kiss, and it was one for the record books.

“Will you go to the Mermaid Ball with me tomorrow night?”

Evie stared at him and said nothing at first.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to go.”

“No! Yes! Yes, I do want to go! It’s just that—I don’t have anything to wear. Isn’t it a costume ball?”

Clancy kissed her again. He could kiss her forever. “Nah. It’s not required. It will be your last night on the island, you know? I really want to spend it together.”

Oh, no. She was going to cry. God, he didn’t mean to do that, but how was he supposed to know what would send her over the edge and what wouldn’t bother her at all? Evie almost died and didn’t even whine, but he gave her a ten-dollar wind chime and she needed a Kleenex.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, trying to pull herself together. “I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just the idea of it being our last night.”

“It’s the last night of your vacation on Bayberry Island,” Clancy corrected her. “It won’t be our last night, period. I know it.”

He gave her one last sweaty good-bye kiss, then jogged back home. About halfway, he heard a horn and the sputtering of the beater 1985 Toyota 4-Runner Duncan was so proud of. Clancy ignored him as his brother slowed the car and pulled alongside him with the window open.

“Hey, who’s the brown-haired cutie I saw you runnin’ with?”

Clancy kept his eyes ahead.

“She looks like that Felicity chick from TV. Real nice.”

He didn’t pay any attention to Duncan—sometimes it seemed like his big brother’s only reason for being alive was to try to jump Clancy’s case. Suddenly, the SUV swerved in front of him and nearly ran him over. That was the end of his patience.

“What is your friggin’ problem, dude?”

Duncan draped his arm over the front seat and looked down at him, laughing. “I was just going to ask you the same thing, lover boy. Don’t you think fourteen is a little early to be sinkin’ the salmon?”

Clancy shook his head and walked around the car, slamming a fist into the hood as he went.

“Hey, moron! You just put a dent in my ride!”

Clancy laughed. “No, I just put a repair in your dent.”

“Fine. You wanna fuck up my car? Then I’ll make sure I get the chance to spend some time with Felicity.”

Clancy knew it was the absolute stupidest thing he could do, because if he reacted, Duncan would see how easy he could get to him through Evie. But he couldn’t help himself. It was like he’d gone blind and deaf with anger. He whipped around.

“I swear to God, Duncan. If you speak to her or even look at her, I will kick your asthmatic ass to Kennebunk and back!”

“Bwaa-haaa-haaa!” Duncan turned his steering wheel and peeled off onto the road, waving. “Later, you pussy-whipped girlie-man!”