Second Chance Rose, page 6
“Hold on, hold on,” Zoe interrupted, wagging a finger side to side in front of her. “It doesn’t mean someone’s going to die. In fact, the Death card is one of the most positive cards in the deck.”
“Hmph.” I finally let myself look at it. On it was a skeleton in black armor riding a white horse. “Sure looks like the Grim Reaper to me.”
Zoe shook her head, her earrings swinging like pendulums. “You’re hanging on to something that no longer serves you,” she said. “This card is telling you it’s time to close that door and open another. The Death card is a sign transformation is coming. You need to put the past behind you and part ways with it, so you can embrace new possibilities. It’s hard to let go, but you will soon see the promise of renewal.”
I let out another “hmph.”
“If you resist letting go of whatever negative thing you’re holding on to, know you will experience pain, emotional and physical. But if you imagine a new possibility, you allow new patterns to emerge. Change is always coming. It’s up to you to welcome it as a positive, cleansing process. The death of limiting thoughts opens the door to life.” I ruffled my fingers in Coco’s tight curls, letting Zoe’s words sink in.
“Death is also a sign you need to learn to let go of unhealthy attachments. This is a perfect card to break a bad habit. Let in the new! Purge the baggage in your way.”
“Not much room in my life for anything new,” I said resolutely. Between the farm and Pappy, even the idea of change was impossible to imagine. I lifted Coco from my lap and placed her on the ground next to Zoe, then stood. “Maybe some people have time to fantasize these cards mean anything real, but not me. Oh, and if anything happens to Pappy, I promise I’ll hold you fully responsible. Now, I really have to get back. August, let’s go.” I faced away from the table and the Death card on its surface, leaving August seated there with Zoe.
“Uh, what do I owe you?” August asked her.
“This one’s on me,” she said. “You did me a favor, really. I’ve been dying to do her cards for three years. Hear that, Rose?” I heard her loud and clear. “She’s always busy, always stressed, always seems to have a lot on her mind. She’s a tough nut to crack, that one. Say, how do you two know each other, anyway? I only ever see her with Bluebell Price. And that blonde from the hotel. And how come so many of you folks here have plant names?”
“No one’s told you?” August chuckled. “We grew up together. I used to live here. Believe it or not, Rose wasn’t always so tightly wound.”
I spun back around to see him grinning. He wasn’t wrong, but I folded my arms over my chest again, tapping my toe in the grass.
“Ha! I’ll have to take your word on that.”
“As for the names—our parents, before they all had kids, wanted to strengthen their connection to the island. Solidify their legacy in some way. They were a bunch of hippies, really.” He laughed again. “Anyway, they decided to name any daughters they had after the wildflowers of Orcas. A couple of them even choose nature names for their sons, too. Heard of Rocky and River Black?”
“As in the mayor of Bayview Rocky Black?” Zoe asked. Rocky was the older of the two brothers.
Back in high school, none of us would have pegged Rocky as a politician. August looked at me questioningly. “Yep,” I said.
“Oh, and Forest Russo,” he added.
“Mr. Domino West, you mean,” Zoe said.
“That’s what I hear.” August shrugged. “This was…interesting, but I have to be going, too. See you around, maybe.” I watched as he stood, straightening slowly, favoring his right leg.
“Wait, you never did tell me. Are you a movie star?” Zoe collected her cards in a pile on the table.
“Nothing quite that glamorous. I’m a cameraman. Underwater, mostly.”
“Wasted opportunity not to have you in front of the camera.” Zoe smiled, exposing the gap in her two front teeth. “If I were a few years younger…” She let her words trail off. Blushing, August grabbed my arm and steered me in the direction of my farm stand. I flinched again at his touch; I didn’t like the heat it sent through me, the way my body betrayed my brain. He dropped his hand quickly.
“You’re quiet now,” I said as we walked through the rows of stalls.
“Just thinking about the Wheel of Fortune.” He dug his hands in his pockets. “No matter how much I try to convince myself I’m my own man—one who can do anything I set my mind to, I always come back to the same feeling. Everything I do leads me back here—back to this place where I did the unthinkable. Where I don’t deserve love or trust. And now, with my leg…” It was the first time I’d heard him acknowledge his limp, but it wasn’t the right time to pry.
He looked at his watch. “Shit. Me and the guys have to get back to Bayview. We have a shoot tonight.” I nodded. We both had work to do. Whatever else had happened here today, I felt less fearful about his presence on the island. I guessed that was a good thing. Was it forgiveness? I didn’t know, but at least I could put my focus where it was needed: Pappy and the farm.
August, too, seemed more at ease. His hands were no longer clenched at his sides, and his shoulders relaxed as we walked.
When we reached my table, I started calling instructions to Noah and Sam. Nearly all Ida’s pies were sold. Sam checked his watch twice within the first few minutes of our return.
He and Noah looked relieved to see their friend.
Sam looked at his watch a third time. “T minus an hour fifteen. Time to go.”
“Will you be all right here?” August indicated the space between the stalls. “Is there someone you can call to help?” Just as the words left his mouth, I spotted Bluebell hightailing it toward us.
“Got it,” I said. “Your work here is done, boys. Thank you. Hollywood’s calling.” I wiggled my eyebrows. But looking at the empty baskets on my table, I really was grateful for their help. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”
“Sorry it took me so long,” Bluebell panted, moving around to Ida’s table. “Thought the lunch rush would never end. How’s Ida? Looks like she still sold everything, even from a hospital bed.” Only two loaves and a handful of cookies were left.
“She’ll be fine,” August volunteered. Sam and Noah waited impatiently behind him, Sam still checking his watch at regular intervals. “Bye, Rose,” he said.
I was already busy helping a customer. “Bye now,” I said without looking up.
CHAPTER 6
The first week of photography on Shore Thing was hectic and exhausting. We shot some decent footage but not without a few hiccups. Two windy days caused a delay in filming some of the above-water scenes, and then there was the issue of ships and other vessels passing by in the background. Murmurs went around set that we were doomed to be the next Jaws after one of Arthur’s assistants read The Jaws Log, a book that detailed all the things that went wrong in the making of the classic movie. All I knew was Arthur Dagon was no Steven Spielberg; I hoped like hell the problems were behind us.
I spent several hours in the water on shooting days with Sam and Noah, trying to capture what we needed of Damon Mann diving. The actor had insisted he didn’t want a stunt double, having spent several months learning to convincingly dive to play a marine archaeologist.
At night in my room, and during breaks in the day, my thoughts kept returning to my afternoon at the market. I’d surprised even myself by being so open in front of Rose and Zoe, a total stranger. It was as if I knew something deep inside had to give. I’d retreated into myself after I left Orcas Island and never really came back out of my shell. Concepts like intimacy and vulnerability were foreign to me. The accident had only compounded the feeling I was in this thing called life on my own.
Except for Sam and Noah. Our shared experience on USERT had bonded us like brothers. They each had interesting backgrounds of their own, too. Despite his easygoing manner, Noah of the three of us had the most to hide. Born to a wealthy oil family in Norway, he’d moved to America and joined the FBI in part to have a “normal experience”—one where people didn’t treat him differently because he had money or befriend him just for that reason. FBI life put everyone on the same footing. I understood completely his instinct to act cool and calm at all times. Having money in the family didn’t mean there wasn’t also chaos; in fact, there was probably more. Noah fought his instinct to control by letting go.
Sam was the opposite. He was rigid, and careful, and liked everything in its place. His parents were respected members of the San Diego military community, and Sam had been expected to follow in their footsteps. Having grown up on the water, a career as a diver was a natural fit. His folks had been thrilled when he joined USERT, relieved it would tick the boxes of his desire to see the world and do one of the things he loved most in the world: be on the ocean. Whenever we had a break, though, Sam disappeared to New York or LA. At first no one on the team knew why. He confided in us along the way he was studying to be an actor.
He loved the challenge, loved being someone else. Acting was his one release of control. Noah and I knew that as soon as Sam could make a name for himself—and a living—acting, he would dedicate his life to it. For him, this project was a foot in the door of the film industry and a way to support his acting classes. With his strong jaw, classic proportions, and thick brown hair, he might just make it, too. I admired his dedication to doing something so different from his military background. His dream came first.
Despite all we’d shared, though, I hadn’t found the guts to be honest with them about my family. They knew I’d left Orcas Island as a teenager and finished high school in Seattle, but they didn’t know why. It’d been on the tip of my tongue to tell them twice this week. Both times I allowed fear to stop me, and I was still reckoning with why. Maybe I didn’t want to alter their perception of me. Maybe I couldn’t afford to lose their trust. Trust was the most important part of being on a dive team, where our lives depended on trusting each other if something went wrong.
Or maybe I was scared to hurt them. I’d hurt enough people on Orcas Island. I’d do everything in my power not to hurt others.
I’d gotten a brief glimpse through Rose’s prickly exterior on Saturday, and I wanted more. Walking down Water Street Friday morning, coffee and doughnut in hand, I made up my mind: I would leave the set early today, no matter what. Destination? Cottle’s at three o’clock. I was desperate to set eyes on her again.
It wasn’t a dive day, anyway. Just a day of going over footage and planning for our next scenes. We met with Arthur’s assistants over lunch, who told us a local had agreed to rent us the use of his narrowboat barge so we could film from another angle. When the clock hit two, I beelined for the crew member who’d loaned me the van last week.
“Need this for the rest of the afternoon?” I knew they didn’t. Sam’s organizational skills applied beyond our own team to helping anyone on the crew who needed it get ahead of schedule with prep.
“All yours, man,” he said. “Key’s on my desk.”
I spent the twenty-five minute drive to Winslow going over Rose’s words. When I left ten years ago, I never imagined she’d hang on to the hurt as long as she had. I figured she’d be over me fast and better off without me—better off without a guy whose dad was a con man. I realized now how wrong I was, and a feeling began to take root in me: I needed to prove she could trust me again. Maybe it was the only path to forgiving myself.
Parking next to a little red hatchback, I caught sight of Rose on her bike rattling down the hill to the pier. It couldn’t be the same bike, could it? I chuckled and shook my head. We used to ride from one end of the island to the other as kids, the perfect way to spend a summer afternoon. Looking back, it was everything we’d needed: sunshine, the wind in our hair, laughter, and love.
Dismounting at the bottom of the hill, she propped her bike against the side of the restaurant. She unclipped her helmet and shook her hair free, then disappeared around the building onto the pier.
I followed behind, watching her take a seat at the same picnic table as last week, her back to me. Bluebell looked up and saw me, surprised. She leaned in and said something to Rose, who turned around, not overly thrilled I was there.
“Crashing the party again, huh.” She hadn’t phrased it as a question.
“Never mind her,” Bluebell said. “Come on, sit. I’ll get us a drink.” She climbed out of the bench seat and moved to stand in line behind an older couple at the order window. It was even busier here this week. Two tables over, Angela Fletcher peered at me over her glasses, pen poised above a tattered-looking notebook.
“The food looked so good here last week, I had to try it.” It was a weak excuse for showing up uninvited again. “So what do you recommend?”
I attempted an earnest expression and watched Rose battle with her emotions. After a moment she huffed out a breath. “All right, I give. The littleneck clams are always good,” she said. “Pappy practically waits by the door every week for me to bring him some. Although lately Freddy’s specials are to die for, too. Remember him? Mary and Louis’s son? He’s all grown up and training to be a chef. You probably want to look at today’s menu over there.” She pointed to the chalkboard sign hanging next to the order window.
“Cool,” I said, glancing around the bustling tables, where diners ate from red-plastic baskets lined with checkered paper. I stood as Bluebell returned with three Coronas and a basket of her own. “Can I get you something?”
“No, thanks.” Rose put a hand to her stomach. “Late breakfast.”
At the order window, Mary beamed brightly. At least one person was happy to see me here.
I looked around the busy pier, debating whether to leave while August was at the order window or stick around and finish my beer. People looked happy. It was Friday afternoon, the sun was shining, and a cool breeze floated in off the Pacific that seemed to lift everyone’s spirits after a hot, dusty week. It was unusually dry on Orcas for this time of year; we hadn’t had rain in twenty-seven days.
I could sit here for an hour, I decided. I needed a break from worrying about the farm, and I wasn’t going to let August ruin that for me.
Watching him stride to the table, red basket in hand, it occurred to me it was kind of nice to see him. For the first time since his return, I allowed myself to feel something I’d been ignoring up to this point: affection. Despite the anger and betrayal I’d felt every time I thought of him for the past ten years, underneath it all I couldn’t help but remember a bit of the good stuff, too. The way his jeans hugged his body. The strong line of his jaw and the glint in his sharp green eyes. The butterflies that danced in my belly when I looked at him.
He was back at the table before I could examine that thought.
“How’s Ida?”
I watched him set his food down before climbing into the picnic bench, lifting his right leg up and over. “Clean bill of health,” I said. “The doc at the ER said she fainted.”
“It’s been hotter here than I remember.”
“Honestly, it’s hard to tell what’s normal anymore.” I thought of how little rain we’d had—and how high our water bill at the farm would be this month—and shuddered.
“So tell us about the movie,” Bluebell said, changing the subject. “So exciting to have Damon Mann here—he seems like the nicest guy! Domino is really putting Orcas Island on the map. But all I keep hearing is how it’s already behind schedule, and people are running around the hotel scratching their heads with worry. What’s it about, anyway? And what do you do?” She poked a finger in August’s shoulder.
“I’m an underwater cameraman.” He held up a hand at the surprise on Bluebell’s face.
“It’s only my third movie, so I’m not sure what to expect, to be honest. But yah, it’s not going exactly as planned.”
“Underwater cameraman, hey?” Bluebell eyed him thoughtfully. “You still haven’t said what the movie’s about.”
“You know, your basic underwater rom-com.” He laughed. “Sort of. Damon plays a marine archaeologist who lives on this backwoods island.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” I protested.
He clarified, “Backwoods fictional island, I mean. Anyway, he can’t catch a date, so his friend comes up with a plan to get him one and posts an ad on the internet. You know, ‘Wanted: One gorgeous, water-loving bride,’ that sort of thing. Enter Domino West. But the catch is she’s a marine archaeologist, too—one who’s secretly searching for the same buried treasure as he is.”
“You’ve Got Mail meets Fool’s Gold,” Bluebell said between bites of crab cakes. Freddy’s special today looked delicious, served with a few pinches of watercress and a dollop of tartar sauce. August had ordered the same thing. “How did you get involved?”
“Noah and Sam—they’re underwater cameramen, too. We went into business together after—” He trailed off, and a beat of silence followed. “After we left the FBI,” he said simply. “We’ve worked together for years, so we have a kind of shorthand. We come as a package deal, a team. Our job is to shoot all the underwater stuff.”
“You’re filming stunt people then, obviously.” Bluebell phrased it as a statement, not a question.
“Actually Damon’s doing all his own diving. Trained for three months, apparently. But there’s a stunt diver for Domino.”
Bluebell swooned. “Is there anything that hottie can’t do? What’s he like?” A dreamy look entered her eyes. “You know he broke up with Ana Chase, right? So he’s single.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
I let myself enjoy fun watching August deflect Bluebell’s pleas for an introduction to Damon Mann while trying to learn as much about the handsome actor as she could. It was a reminder of his old playful self, a side I hadn’t seen of him for a decade.
