My stomach churned as I studied my laptop screen. I knew without words that Brody was struggling to make his art. The countless discarded canvases piled next to the trash told me that much. Maybe that was always his process. Twelve trashed paintings for one completed one. But a little voice inside me said that this was abnormal for him. I wanted to help, to ease his way, but sitting for him was one thing I simply couldn’t do.
Phoenix26: You know why I can’t.
Evergreen13: You can’t spend the rest of your life cooped up on an island. Eventually, you’re going to have to live again.
I wanted that. Not to escape Harbor—I’d grown to love my life here—but to live freely. Not to live as someone who needed to be invisible, but someone who left their mark. A person who had real friends, people who truly knew her, and would feel her loss if she simply disappeared. A musician who didn’t hide her music where no one could hear, but let it touch the ears of the people around her.
When I’d hidden away in my little refuge, I’d slowly started erasing my life, bit by bit until there was nothing to see but a forgettable woman just passing through. Everything about me had seemed too risky. The thing I loved more than anything was the most dangerous of all.
My gaze drifted to the violin case in the corner. Growing up, I’d wanted nothing more than to play for audiences across the globe. To attend Juilliard or Berklee. To join an orchestra in Dresden or Los Angeles or at the Met. But those dreams had slowly morphed into only wanting to play without fear. To share my music with people who would listen. To not have my bow snapped in two because Michael thought I was hogging our parents’ attention.
By the time of the attack, I’d stepped back from performing. People wondered if the pressure had gotten to be too much for the young violin prodigy. I didn’t share the truth with anyone. It was simply too much to endure the tantrums at home. The flashes of anger.
My parents had done their best to find a treatment center for Michael. They’d succeeded, promising that when he got the help he needed, all would go back to normal. But it was too late by then. That was the thing with Michael’s disease. From the moment he was born, it was too late. All we could do was spend the rest of our lives, running in response—my parents just weren’t fast enough.
Grief and anger warred whenever those memories snuck in. Grief at knowing how much my parents endured, trying to save their son. Anger that they didn’t seem to see that I was dying bit by bit along the way.
Phoenix26: He’s out.
Evergreen13: What? Why didn’t you say anything? Are you okay?
Phoenix26: I’m fine. No one knows where I am. I’m safe. But for things to stay that way, I need to keep a low profile. No letting famous artists paint my face.
Evergreen13: I promise I’ll lay off. I have to head to work, but check in tonight? Let me know you’re okay?
Phoenix26: Will do. Cuddle some animals for me.
E sent a photo of a pile of puppies as a signoff. I stared at the image on the screen until my eyes went blurry. Maybe I needed a pet. A furry buddy to make me feel a little less alone. A companion who would make the distance I placed between myself and every other person I came across, not feel so stark and alienating. It was something to think about.
I checked my watch. Time to tend to the feathered creatures already under my care. The chickens could get mean if they didn’t get their breakfast on time. Mean chickens weren’t something anyone wanted, especially those who had to enter the coop to gather the eggs.
I slipped into my muck boots by the door and pulled on a jacket. I stuffed a hat into one pocket and gloves into the other. I didn’t think the weather warranted them yet, but that could always change. I made my way down the path towards the coop and the gardens. The birds let out a series of calls, and I heard Hunter and his crew in the distance, getting started for their day.
Pausing to pick up a bucket of scraps from the greenhouse, I headed towards the sound of irritated clucking. “I’m coming, ladies. Hold onto your feathers.” I let them out of their nightly home and into the enclosed area where they could roam. There were too many hawks around to let them have truly free rein. But their yard was large, and they didn’t seem to have a lot of interest in the world outside their wire.
I scooped out some feed, spreading it around the yard, and then scattered the scraps along with it for good measure. When they were happily chowing down, I went for the eggs. The smell of the coop was not pleasant, but it certainly helped me practice how long I could hold my breath.
I made quick work of gathering the eggs and cleaning up after the girls. With the eggs piled in a basket, I headed out. “Enjoy your freedom, ladies. I’ll be back later.” They squawked happily in response.
I closed and latched the coop. Just as I was about to turn around, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I let out a strangled squeak. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
One of the men from Hunter’s crew gave me a slow grin. “No worries. You were caught up with talking to the chickens.”
My cheeks heated. I recognized him from around town. He’d offered to help me carry things to my boat once or twice, but we’d never officially met. “Comes with the job, I guess.”
“It was pretty adorable.”
I shifted on my feet. The man was handsome, but flirting wasn’t something I’d had a whole lot of experience with. In high school, the boys had mostly given me a wide berth, knowing what had happened to me. People whispered, but they didn’t engage. “Chickens are pretty cute. I have to get these up to the main house. Hope you have a good day.”
“Sam,” he said before I could leave. “That’s my name.”
I gave him a smile, but it wavered slightly. I was unused to such focused attention. “Nice to meet you, Sam. I really do—”
“What do you say to dinner on Shelter this Friday? I tried asking around about you but couldn’t find out much. You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”
I froze. He’d asked around about me? Questions would only stoke any curiosities about the woman who stayed on this island alone nine months out of the year. That could lead to searching. Someone finding out who I was. No one on Anchor or Shelter even knew my last name. Well, no one but Caelyn. I hoped that would be enough to protect me. I met Sam’s stare. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but Hunter appeared. “Sam. There’s more lumber to unload. We need your help.”
Sam shot me a grin and headed back to the job site. “You got it, boss man.”
Hunter focused his attention on me, his gaze scanning me from head to toe. Not in any sort of lascivious way, but as if he were checking for unease. “He bothering you?”
I adjusted the hold on my basket. “No, he was just making polite conversation.” The guy didn’t deserve to be chewed out by his boss for asking me out. I was sure my awkwardness would keep him from inquiring again.
“Glad to hear it. How are things with your new boss?”
Unnerving was the word that immediately popped into my mind. Not in a bad way, but in a dangerous one. Brody had me wanting to say all sorts of things that were far too risky for me. “Good. He’s kind and fair. Can’t ask for much more.”
Hunter glanced up at the main house. “Seems like a solid guy. Glad you landed a good one.”