40

That night, Red O’Rourke dreamed. It felt more like the space between sleeping and waking than like something unreasonable and far out. It was memories twisted and reimagined, as his injured brain trawled the depths of his past. 

Initially, O’Rourke found himself in the long dining hall of the house, but his parents were there and so was Martha. Another girl was there, someone whom O’Rourke had liked, even loved, as a friend and maybe something more. She wasn’t from the island but someone who had visited one summer and who had captured Red’s heart the moment that he had seen her. She was sitting at the table, but in the dream, she had no plate or bowl to eat from and no utensils. 

“Red, we don’t mix with that kind,” his mother said, her well-coiffed hair sitting up high on her head and spoon full of soup barely touching her makeup-covered lips. His father, sitting at the long end of the ornate table just glared at Red disapprovingly. Red himself was sweating, and sitting there in a child’s seat and in child’s clothes. He looked over at his friend and saw that she had no face, and then no hands, as she faded away…

The O’Rourkes were sitting in the chapel now, and listening to a revival preacher who had shown up sometime when Red was small. His parents were dressed in their finest clothes, and he was sitting in a starched white dress shirt, tightened tie, and dress pants that ended just above his loafers. His feet barely touched the ground as he sat on the pew. 

“We are sinners, all of us!” cried the preacher. “God is angry with us, for our sin and our disappointment of Him. We are to be kept pure and holy, not mingling ourselves with the things of the world or the people of this world. We are set apart and called to be blameless of all of the temptations of the world.” 

Red’s mother and father were nodding, and everyone seemed to turn and stare at him, except his sister. 

“You are damned to hell, for not being who you’re supposed to be! You are unforgivable!” shouted the preacher, rising to a crescendo. “You are forever lost, Red O’Rourke!”

In the dream, the child version of O’Rourke felt his stomach boil over and his tears begin to fall. Everyone in the church was turning and looking at him with judgment, and his father’s face was contorted in a look of anger and rage. O’Rourke turned to his sister, hoping that at least she could see him as he was and still love him…

Now Martha had no face, like the girl from the first dream. And then suddenly everyone was laughing and pointing at Red in the church until their faces all disappeared, too. 

O’Rourke woke, soaked in sweat and clenching the blanket in a white-knuckled grip. He knew that the sun was not yet up, but he could hear the rain falling hard in sheets against the window panes. His heart still beat wildly and there was bile in his throat. The back of his head throbbed to its own beat, and he saw bandages on his hands and arms. There was no memory of what had happened that had landed him here in bed, hurting like this. But he could remember the dreams. 

The dreams hadn’t arrived for the first time that night, but they had haunted him for years. He knew the names of the people in the pews that day and the name of the girl who had been humiliated by his parents at lunch. He knew because they all caused scars that still existed on his heart, that still felt picked and reopened by the words he said or things he did. O’Rourke knew that his parents had tried their best; they had wanted what was best for him. But they had failed to show love in a way that set him up to succeed in the world, and in the process they had steered him onto a path that he still wasn’t sure that he could return from. 

Lying there, O’Rourke thought of Martha, locked into an unresponsive life, to a life that he wasn’t really sure was living at all. Did she know him? Did she know David? Did she understand their words, or receive the cries for forgiveness he left in tears on her blanket as he bent over her and prayed nearly every night? Were the nightmares enough punishment or was there more to come? Could he ever get away from these terrible dreams?

O’Rourke rolled onto his stomach, and screamed into his pillow, a loud, long, mournful scream. He would have suffocated himself in that moment if he could have but his scream reduced to big, sloppy tears that flooded the pillowcase. He was alone and terrified, and it left him ready to confess his sins to whoever would listen. 

41

That morning, Leo woke up without any incessant banging on the door or stabbing blindness from the sun. He did a quick set of pushups and situps to warm up his muscles, and some deep breathing exercises. Outside, the rain came in waves, blowing down sheets periodically and then letting up again for ten to fifteen minutes at a time. He didn’t really care what the weather was, because he was determined to get outside and run, regardless. 

Setting out on the path that the search party had followed the day before, Leo jogged toward the other side of the island. He kept an eye out for glimpses of the lighthouse, having decided it would be his destination that morning. With a reasonably steady pace, Leo found himself on the lighthouse property after fifty minutes, and he walked around its base, examining the structure that had once been responsible for keeping fishermen safe. 

The light was low enough and the fog high enough that the battery-operated light was still pulsing its light out to sea. The lighthouse itself was locked and Leo had not been given a key. He couldn’t imagine the claustrophobia of having to manually operate the light and staying up in the tower for hours, or days, at a time. But the new system seemed to be keeping the cruise ships away from the rocks on that part of the island. 

As Gillian had shared, the lighthouse was padlocked shut. But a new padlock was in place linking together an older chain that someone had used to keep the door from opening. Leo could see that someone had tried to pry the door to the lighthouse off its hinges, but the old hinges had held. He didn’t know if the new padlock was someone’s responsibility from town or merely there because of whoever had tried prying the door open. And the graffiti was endless, around and around at the bottom for them and then rising up the center of the structure that was farthest away from the woodlawn path.

By now, the rain was pelting Leo, hard. He decided that maybe running in the rain wasn’t his favorite, or maybe that was just nor’easters. Either way, he knew it was past time to head back to town, as he’d spend the next hour running through giant puddles in a torrential downpour. 

Screaming from the rocky beach to his left cut through the wind and the rain. Looking down from the lighthouse landing, he saw Steph waving her hands frantically, amidst the rocks. Just beyond her, Steven was gingerly navigating his way out from the shore. And there was Junior, twenty feet out to sea, struggling to stay above the water as angry waves crashed over him. 

Leo hopped down off of the lighthouse platform, and ran as quickly as he could over the slick rocks on the shore. Steph grabbed his arm as he drew closer and pulled him toward Steven. “Junior followed us out here when we came to fish,” she explained, breathlessly, as they moved closer to her brothers. “A hook got stuck and we told him just to leave it, but when we turned around, he headed out to get it. He isn’t a good swimmer!” 

Leo’s legs carried him into the shore break and out to Steven, who was now fighting the tide and trying to reach his brother. Leo stuck his arms out to Junior, as another wave threatened to consume the younger boy, and for a moment, Junior was lost beneath the waves. Steven screamed, and Leo took a deep breath seconds before the wave crashed into him. 

The water made the rocky surface hard to gain purchase, and Leo felt one foot slip out from underneath him. His leg ran into Junior’s, and under the water, he followed the space up until he had his fingers clutching onto Junior’s shirt collar. As the water ebbed back out to sea, Leo surged back to shore, fighting the pull of the waves on Junior’s body. Then they broke through to the surface, and he heard the young man crying. 

Steven slipped one arm under Junior’s left arm and together, he and Leo dragged Junior through the surf to the beach where Steph waited, nervously wringing her hands. 

“Junior! Don’t do that again,” she fussed, wrapping the little boy up in her tight embrace. “Mom would’ve killed us if something had happened to you!”

Junior tried to pull away but finally gave in. He looked up at Leo, and solemnly stuck out his hand. “Thanks, Mister,” he said. “It was deeper than it looked!”

Leo shook his head, and Junior grinned up at him weekly. “But I did get the lure!” 

As the rain fell, Steven, Steph, and Leo looked down at Junior’s other outstretched hand, proudly displaying the homespun lure he had rescued from the rocks. 

42

On the way back to town, Leo found himself matching step for step with Steven, whose head still hung down. Leo didn’t have a lot of experience with teenagers but he decided he’d try to draw the younger man into conversation. 

“What do you usually catch out there?” he asked, indicating the fishing poles that Steven had clutched in one hand. The bucket they had carried out to bring back their caught fish bounced off of Junior’s heels ahead of them, empty except for a few raindrops. 

“Sometimes flounder. Maybe cod,” mumbled Steven in response. The rainwater dripped off of his bangs down to his nose, and then slid off falling to the ground. Leo noticed that not all of the water was from the rain though, and he realized that Steven was crying. Was it out of sadness or fear or …?

Leo cleared his throat. “Um, sometimes, it’s good if you, uh, talk about something that’s bothering you?” He realized he had phrased it as more of a question than a statement, and he wasn’t sure if Steven would even respond. 

The rain echoed off of the vegetation around them, but Leo had noticed it didn’t seem quite as rainy on the path back to Main Street, thanks to the heavy tree coverage overhead. He looked around but they still hadn’t seen anyone else, and it seemed that Junior had returned to normal. Young kids had a habit of rebounding faster than everyone else, even if they had been scared out of their minds just moments before. 

With nothing but the rain as a soundtrack mixed with the muted discussion from Junior and Steph ahead of them, Leo realized that his stomach was growling. He’d definitely have to take a shower before going to Ocean’s Breeze, but a hot cup of coffee and some food sounded good. 

“I can’t stand him sometimes!” blurted out Steven suddenly. Leo looked up, startled by the fury of Steven’s statement. 

“I’m sorry,” said Leo, realizing that Steven was only speaking to him. “But who are you talking about?”

Steven glanced at Leo, furtively, before going back to watching the ground. “My brother. He’s so annoying. He wants to do whatever I do and he’s always in my space.” Leo saw that Steven was looking ahead at Junior, but his eyes weren’t angry. 

“And then I almost let him get hurt,” Steven continued, “or something worse, and I-”

The words hung in Steven’s throat as a sob threatened to over take him. Leo reached out an arm, and the boy didn’t fight him, as Leo gave Steven a one-armed hug. The boy’s body shook, and his legs came to a stop. “It’s okay,” said Leo, looking down at the top of his head. “Nothing bad happened, and you did help save his life! It’s hard being the older brother, and figuring out who you are, too.”

Steven nodded, and pulled back to keep walking. Leo caught up to him, and Steven didn’t say much more on the way back toward town. When they arrived at the intersection where most of the houses began, Junior high-fived Leo, Steph thanked Leo for being there, and Steven extended a shy half-wave. Leo nodded and told them he would see them around town, and headed back toward the chapel. 

43

As the rain continued to fall, Leo realized that everything would be a stage of damp over the next few days. He resigned himself to dealing with wet clothes and decided that rather than get cleaned up and dressed and then soaked again, he would brave the lunch crowd first before going back to the chapel. He ducked under an overhang and wrung out his shirt, before stepping into the Ocean’s Spray. 

Pushing his way through the clamor inside, Leo saw that the bar was half-filled with people he hadn’t seen at Tranquility before. He realized it was possible, with a population of a thousand or two, to not recognize everyone, but the people that stuck out to him were all wearing matching polos to the body of John Perrier. Leo wound his way through the crowd to the bathroom and used paper towels to dry his face and hair. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he actually felt human, thanks to the exercise and camaraderie of the people he had met already. At the bar, Fred nodded to Leo and slid a Coke from the fountain across the bar top. Leo ordered a meal of fish and chips, and turned on the stool to watch the crowd behind him. 

There was a buzz that Leo sensed, but couldn’t quite name. He listened to the conversation fragments he could pick out, and realized that the island people were afraid that the killer was on the island and the cruise ship employees were afraid the killer was on their ship. Apparently John Perrier had quite a reputation, and steroids were mentioned in a few of the conversations. No one felt safe from the killer, and Perrier wasn’t exactly being mourned.

“There’s no way someone just overpowered him,” one of the crew was saying. “It would have to have been multiple guys who got the drop on him. That guy was huge. And mean!”

Another crewmate nodded. “I once saw him punch a hole through the wall when a guest refused to pay for the session he’d just provided. The guest thought everything was all inclusive and Perrier was riding high from shooting up that morning.”

Someone said they’d once seen him throw punches at the chief security officer, breaking the man’s nose and jaw. Perrier had been reprimanded, but in the end, the security officer left the company and Perrier kept his job.

Interspersed with the crewmembers, Islanders were sharing details about the recovery of the body with each other. Leo knew from having stood there when they pulled the body ashore that some of the details were true and some of them sounded like the mashup of imagination and reality that happened when children tried to play “Whisper Down the Lane.” He heard one version where a snake had crawled out of Perrier’s mouth when they discovered the body and another where he’d actually been found half-eaten by sharks. 

Leo wanted to reach out and comfort them, and correct the things that weren’t true. He knew the wild rumors were leading to more fear and discorance, and that at some point, what people thought was true actually weighed on their hearts heavier than what was true. Gaslighting was real, and sometimes people did it to themselves. 

Leo turned back as Fred slid his lunch plate across the wooden bar. “These folks are scared,” Fred said, adding with a wink, “and it doesn’t even take my special bartender skills to know it.”

Leo agreed, taking a bite out of the fried fish he’d already grown to love at Ocean’s Spray. Halfway through, Gillian landed on the stool next to him, with her bag slapping down on the floor in between them. “This island is exhausting!” she said, as her hood dripped rainwater down on the bar. She grabbed a napkin to mop up the water, but Fred swept it all up with one of his rags, winking at her as he did. 

With a grateful smile, Gillian said, “I’ll have what he’s having,” and turned back to Leo. “I assume you know there was a body discovered on the island.”

“It’s hard to avoid it,” Leo replied. “This place doesn’t leave any story untouched, or unchanged.” He grimaced, and put his half-eaten fish back on the plate. Pushing the plate away, he looked like he might be sick. 

Gillian chuckled. “Let me guess, you’ve never seen Weekend at Bernie’s, have you?”

When Leo gave her the same blank stare that he had given her earlier, Gillian decided maybe pop culture wasn’t their mutual language. Leo was sipping Coke like it might actually erase the memory of finding the body. 

“It’s fine with me if they want to tell stories,” said Gillian, brandishing a stack of now damp notes. “Between Red and the body, I think my boss will flip. But it’s hard to know when they’ll take me back to the mainland. Captain Benjamin radioed to the guy at the post office that he won’t be coming back for at least two days, and the cruise ship folks won’t travel any further than the ships out there, or take me aboard so I can use their communications office. It’s like we’re stuck in the middle of an Agatha Christie novel a hundred years ago.”

“That’s one heck of a storm,” said one of the cruise ship crewmen pushing his way to the bar between Leo and Gillian, oblivious to their discomfort. “Makes for a captive audience! Bosses will love that,” he tossed over his shoulder to a coworker, never acknowledging Leo and Gillian. They recoiled a bit because of his invasion of their space, and they fell into silent laughter when he stumbled away, another set of beers in hand. 

The crewman tripped and the beers crashed to the ground, spilling everywhere. The man’s tablemates laughed as he dusted himself off and returned begrudgingly to the bar for more beer. This time, Gillian caught his eye, and he tried to get her attention, pushing into the space between Gillian and Leo. Gillian pointedly ignored him, continuing to talk to Leo about nothing in particular. 

“Hey, I’m trying to talk to you!” growled the belligerent crewman. In the background, his fellow crewmates were laughing and cheering him on at the same time. Gillian sipped her drink and continued to ignore the man. Leo could see that the man was blushing with embarrassment, and watched with surprise, as the man put his hand around Gillian’s wrist. 

“I’d advise you to let go of my arm,” Gillian said, calmly and clearly as if she’d just announced the weather they’d be experiencing. The man inched closer to her, and started to snarl something else. 

Leo halfway rose out of his chair. “She asked you to leave her alone, sir,” Leo said, quietly. He was no longer a bystander, but he hadn’t made any kind of move to stop the man. 

The crewman didn’t even turn as he shoved Leo hard with his free hand, and sent him backpedaling over the bar stool onto the floor. Leo’s back hurt from where he had landed awkwardly between his chair and the person beside him, but he was joined a moment later by the drunk crewman. 

Somehow, Gillian had twisted the man’s hand behind his back and shoved him down to the ground. He was eye to eye with Leo, and his face was awash with pain. “You need to apologize to the pastor and help him up off the ground,” Gillian whispered, bending down to speak into the man’s ear. Through his tears, the man nodded as Gillian released him. 

Grabbing both of Leo’s hands, the crewman pulled Leo to his feet and muttered an apology before speeding off through the tables to the exit. His buddies around the table were all shaking their heads and laughing, and Gillian eyed them with an air of disgust until they all dropped their heads and hurried out of the Ocean’s Breeze after their friend. Leo looked at Gillian in a mixture of awe and wonder, but she refused to return his glance. He shook his head, and rubbed his lower back, before settling in to finish off his lemonade. 

Fred rotated back to them a few moments later. “These cruise ship guys are the worst. Most of them are minimum wage and they make tips hustling. But it’s all a game to them. They can’t actually treat you with respect because you’re not going to pay them anything.” 

Somehow, Leo and Gillian had made it onto the islander insider track with Fred, and whatever filter bartenders were supposed to maintain had fallen away. Leo noticed a harder edge to Fred than he had expected before, as if the combination of island happenings, weather, and additional cruise ship tourists had pushed him to the edge. Fred sideeyed a few of the cruise ship guys getting rowdy over by the darts, and moved away to tell them to take it outside. 

Gillian lifted an eyebrow, and turned back to Leo when Fred disappeared with their empty plates. “Now, that’s an island hot take that will move the meter!” she exclaimed, reaching for her bag. Then she groaned, disgusted by what she saw. 

Leo looked down, and saw that her bag had been spilled around their stools. The crew member had practically stepped into her bag, and different items had been scattered. Leo hopped down to help her recover her possessions, and in the process, he saw a flash of metal weighing down the bottom of the bag, before Gillian closed up the bag again. Gillian looked at him, quizzically, but he pretended he hadn’t seen anything, and handed her a roll of lipstick that had rolled to the other side of his stool. 

“I think that’s everything. Thank you,” she said, sighing. “That’ll teach me to leave my bag on the floor in here.”

Leo was considering what he might say, or not say, about what he thought he’d seen. He felt a little foolish, because what woman traveling alone didn’t have a right to defend herself even if she had a gun? Before he could decide what to say, Gillian had thrown cash down on the bar to cover her meal, and quickly darted through the crowded bar. Leo stared after her, but the words stayed caught in his throat.

The clamor rose higher and higher, and Leo decided he’d had all he could take of this version of the Ocean Spray. He paid Fred and left a tip, telling the bartender that he hoped his experience would improve. Fred just rolled his eyes and kept rubbing circles on the bar with his rag.  

Outside, Leo ducked his head to try and get more protection from the raindrops pelting his face as he trudged down Main Street. Slipping into the hardware store, he found a workman’s coat with a hood that had more chance of covering him than his suit coat did. After being rained on a few times, without being properly cleaned, his suit coat already looked like some rumpled detective’s coat. He looked around until he found a pair of workboots and a pair of sensible dungarees to tide him over while the storm raged. He paid, thanking the clerk, and headed back out into the rain. 

Back at the chapel, he found a note from Miss Isabelle pinned to his door. It said that O’Rourke had woken up that morning and demanded to see Leo, that he had something they needed to talk about. The note was short and sweet, but Leo could see that Isabelle’s writing had been fast and excited. She closed the note by saying she hoped that Leo could make a point of talking to the man in the mansion that afternoon. 

Knowing that the rain would continue indefinitely, Leo changed out of his rain soaked clothes, and after a shower, he slipped into his new dry outfit and tore the tags off of his new coat. It would have to be enough to make the trip up the hill. He sighed at the thought of trudging uphill through the woods in the rain, and felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He had to go; he had no choice. 

Red O’Rourke was waiting, and Leo had promised to return.

Chapters 44-47 coming May 31!