Back at the cottage, Maddie said good night and withdrew to her bedroom. But between too much good food and tea, she had trouble falling asleep.
With only a sliver of moon leaking into the room, she knew it was time to get—and stay—focused on the future. And though she hoped it would include Rex, she needed to believe that their relationship would take care of itself, and that, no matter what, she and the baby would be fine. Because, with or without Rex, they would not be alone.
For now, she wanted to move forward; she decided to start with getting rid of those silly notes before someone found them and overreacted. So she sat up and turned on the nightstand lamp, then slid open the drawer and removed the envelopes. She would shred them all to bits.
But first, for no particular reason, she wanted to read the last one.
Determined to confront the pseudo-devil’s anonymous work, she tore open a corner and extracted the sheet of white paper.
The lettering was done in the now-familiar black marker. The message, as with the others, was short:
WHAT PART OFGET OFF THE ISLANDDON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?
One day, a boy showed up at the cottage. He was not a little boy, but he was young. Around ten, I think. Cute as a button, with eyes that glittered like polished bronze.
“I can’t find my dad,” he said. He stood at the front door, holding on to the handlebars of his bike for dear life. At least he wasn’t crying.
“Where’d you lose him?” I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders that were broad for his age. “He lives around here somewhere.”
“Got a name?”
“His or mine?”
“Either. Both.”
“He’s Stan. I’m Reginald. But they call me Rex.”
“You want a root beer, Rex?”
The boy scowled. “Thanks, but I can’t take nothing from strangers.”
“My name’s Nancy. Now we’re not strangers. Besides, you knocked on my door, not the other way around. So you want a pop or what?”
He shrugged again. “Okay. Sure.”
I turned and went into the kitchen, where I’d been starting dinner, not that anyone would be there to eat with me. Anyway, it was hot out for October, so I figured the kid could use something cold.
“Thank you, Nancy,” he said.
“You’re welcome, Rex.”
He took a big swig from the bottle as if he hadn’t had a drink since the day before.
“You got kids?” he asked.
“I do! I have a brand-new baby granddaughter.”
“Oh. Nobody bigger?”
“Sorry,” I said, then asked, “Where do you suppose your dad is?”
“I’ve been up here lots of times with him, so I thought I knew the way.”
“But you got messed up?”
“Yup,” he said as if he were a cowboy, which he could have been cuz his skin was too pale to be Wampanoag. Then he took another swig.
