Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 Read online

  “Can I talk to you outside?” David asked with a nod. Caleb was happy to get out from under Arianna’s furious glare. She threw herself into a chair next to Loretta as they left.

  Caleb could see Ava and Claire in the distance, chasing the children around the grove of blueberry trees. Their shrieks and giggles echoed down the sloped land. He and David were nearly to the barn when David finally spoke. “You’re not going to like what I have to say, Caleb.”

  “I can’t send her away.”

  “Your wife can’t handle this anymore. You’re going to have to make a choice.”

  Caleb lolled his head. It was the most impossible of choices for a man.

  “There has to be a way for us to—”

  “There is no us, Caleb. This is her. You’re in the barn, and in the field, and running into town. She’s here dealing with this.”

  “You don’t understand. It was in my father’s will that my mother is to live here for the remainder of her days. I have to honor that.”

  “If it were me, I’d consider that a final wish, not a command. Your father had no way of knowing your mother would deteriorate so quickly and become a danger to herself and your family.”

  Caleb scuffed at the dirt and avoided David’s eyes. “I can’t afford it. Coming home was a gamble, and, to be honest, we’ll be lucky to get through the first couple of years. It’s tighter than a vice as it is. Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

  “There are other options. We could see about getting her admitted to the asylum as a charity case—”

  “No.”

  The back door swung open fast, banging against the wall behind it. “Caleb!” Arianna called in a short burst.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as he took the stairs two at a time.

  “Loretta and I have an idea. Come sit down and listen.”

  Caleb was happy to entertain any idea that didn’t involve doing something he morally couldn’t stand and financially couldn’t afford.

  Arianna got right to the point.

  “What if you built a small house out back or on the other side of the barn? We could hire someone for room and board, maybe a small stipend to live there with Ethel and take care of her. She’d be a stone’s throw away, and we could keep an eye on her and our house will be peaceful again.” She sat with wide eyes and arched brows waiting for his reaction. He was slow to give one.

  “It would be less expensive than placing her somewhere,” David said, looking at Caleb. “And your wife is right—you need to bring peace and order back to your home. At least, this way, you could still honor your father’s wishes.”

  Caleb let the idea roll around, debating heavily.

  “With so many people out of work, I know we’d have no shortage of applicants. I mean, a free home and meals! Who’d turn that down?”

  “Who knows what kind of person we’d get. I don’t want just anyone living on my land, caring for my mother and so close to my family.”

  “We’d interview, screen, and ask for references,” Arianna said, dismissing his concern. “It’s a good idea.”

  He’d have to build a house, which was no small thing. Where he’d get the money, materials, and manpower for that, he had no idea. It was a decent compromise though.

  Slowly, he began nodding his head. “I’m not sure how I’ll pull it off with everything else I have to do. But we can try.”

  Relief washed over Arianna and she slid down a few inches in her chair. “I’m so glad you agree. Because if you hadn’t, I was going to make plans to leave with the children.”

  Caleb sobered, staring at her.

  “You can’t expect me to keep living this way,” she said defensively. “And it would only be until you found a way to fix the problem.”

  David and Loretta exchanged an uncomfortable look.

  “I think we’d better talk about this after our company has gone home,” Caleb said coldly.

  “There’s nothing to talk about now. You agreed to build a place and hire a caretaker, so I don’t have to resort to drastic measures.”

  He continued to glare at her.

  David cleared his throat. “Why don’t we walk around outside, and I’ll help you pick a spot for the house?” he asked, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape.

  “Sure,” Caleb said quietly, his eyes still pinned on Arianna.

  ***

  Muzzy was late or what Peter considered late. He wondered where she had been all evening and reminded himself it was none of his business as he turned the four pieces of chicken over in the frying pan. He’d tidied up the back room which served as her living quarters and had taken the liberty to make something for dinner. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes (he was sick of bread) and raw spinach for a salad. For dessert, peaches brought up by train from Georgia. Muzzy didn’t keep normal hours, and he never knew when she was coming or going. He hoped she wouldn’t be gone half the night, which sometimes happened. He’d cooked for two and didn’t want anything to go to waste.

  He heard her motorbike rumble close to the back door and smiled with a breath of relief. A moment later, she walked in with her paper bag slung around her back and her goggles hanging from her neck. She sniffed. Then she saw the spread of food being prepared.

  “Did you rob a bank or something?”

  He laughed. “I thought I’d make dinner to repay your kindness of letting me stay here.”

  “Ahh,” she said slowly, watching his every move. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

  “I know I blew a lot of cash on dinner, but I still have enough to pay you some rent.”

  “I’m not so concerned about you paying me rent,” she said, pulling off her bag and jacket as she crossed the room. “I’m more concerned about you paying your own rent. It takes a savings to start out in a place of your own. Are you making headway on that?”

  Peter stiffened and forced an even, relaxed tone.

  “Oh, sure. Saving slow and steady. I don’t make a lot on the boat, you know, so I’m doing what I can.”

  Muzzy kicked off her shoes wanting to say more but was unsure how to do so. She wasn’t even sure she wanted him to leave. If they were to evenly split expenses, it would be more money she could invest in her business.

  Sitting on her bedroll, she watched Peter.

  “I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “I’ve made things,” he said.

  “You’ve made bread and butter… and oatmeal.”

  “Well, I can make other things, too.” He held up a crispy chicken thigh fresh from the pan. “Any more questions?”

  She grinned. “I’m a reporter. That’s practically all I do. And at the moment, my only question is when will that be ready?”

  Her stomach growled audibly, and a moment later, he handed her a plate.

  “When did you eat last?” he asked, sitting on the floor a few feet from her as he balanced his plate on his leg.

  “The oatmeal you made this morning,” she said, wasting no time biting into the steaming hot thigh.

  “We should get a table and chairs,” Peter mentioned casually.

  Muzzy stopped mid-chew. “We? Table and chairs?”

  “Aren’t you tired of sitting on the floor when we eat?”

  “I don’t often eat enough to justify a table and chairs. Besides, there’s not enough room back here.”

  “You could have it out front in the office area. Have it off to the side, set it up as a place for people to fill out ads and subscription requests. But, after hours, we could use it for meals.”

  “Hmm,” she said, not looking at him. It wasn’t a bad idea. So why did the suggestion irritate her?

  “So, what did you do today?”

  She swallowed hard and held up her hand. “Okay, this bothers me. We are not together, Peter.”

  “I know that,” he said, unable to suppress a grin, undaunted by her sudden change of mood.

  “Well, you’re acting like we’re together.”

  “How so
? By making polite conversation?”

  “By making me dinner, and suggesting we buy furniture, and then wanting to know where I was all day. That’s what couples do.”

  “Friends also do those things, Muzzy.”

  She stared at him, pursing her lips.

  “If it bothers you, I won’t ask you about your day. Forget the table. And I’ll stop cooking, too, if you want.”

  “I suppose I don’t mind the cooking,” she said after a long silence. She softened with a smile to let him know she wasn’t angry. It was ridiculous, the whole thing, and she wondered how on earth she’d gotten herself into this. Her first impression of Peter, once she could close her mouth, was that he was the very definition of anatomical perfection. And now she sat here holding a hand up against what could be perceived as advances—which also seemed ridiculous when she stopped to think about it.

  Muzzy marched to the beat of her own drum, rode a motorbike, wore slacks, and chased down leads—sometimes literally—in hopes of a decent story. Her life was hectic and harried. She caught him staring at her again and stared right back. He dropped his eyes to his plate and grinned.

  Why on earth does he do that?

  She supposed she was pretty, in her own way, though her teeth were a bit crooked, and too much coffee kept them from being as bright as they could be, and her hair truly had a mind of its own. It was always after these assessments of herself when she would realize how improbable it was that Peter was actually attracted to her. He was most likely grateful for a roof over his head and the help she’d provided in getting him a job on one of Aryl’s boats. He was repaying kindness—that was all. And he was right. Friends make dinner, conversation, and suggestions.

  She breathed a sigh of relief after talking herself down and then asked for more mashed potatoes.

  ***

  Aryl glanced up from the ledger he was holding. “Ruth really did do her best to spread the word, didn’t she?”

  Jonathan was leaning precariously, struggling to reach the top of the wheelhouse window with a wad of newspaper.

  “She did. We are booked up every Tuesday and Saturday for the next six weeks.” He smiled as he worked.

  “And you’ve run the numbers? It’ll bring more than fishing?”

  “Yes. About three times as much.”

  Aryl nearly swooned. “I might be able to afford a vehicle.” Jonathan held his open hand behind him and Aryl passed a bottle of vinegar cleanser. “What are you going to do with the extra?”

  “Squirrel it away and wait for a good opportunity,” he said as he resumed scrubbing.

  To Aryl, a good opportunity was not having to walk to work or walk everywhere in the winter.

  They’d taken a few hours after work the day before to clean the boat though they’d been doing small repairs and cosmetic touch-ups ever since Jonathan had received the first letter requesting a reservation. The deck had been cleared of lobster pots and buoys, scrubbed clean, and two tables with chairs placed in the center. Today’s guided fishing trip had four guests, all friends of Ruth.

  Caleb’s farm truck pulled up in the marina’s small dirt lot and Arianna honked. Maura was in the passenger seat with a large basket on her lap.

  Arianna bounded out, forgetting to put on the brake, and before she closed the door, it started rolling. Maura yelled as she jumped back in and stomped on the brake.

  “We damn near ended up in the drink! And not the kind of drink I like to be in!” Maura’s voice echoed across the marina.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Arianna called as she approached the side of the boat with an armload of supplies.

  Aryl glanced up at the sun. “Plenty of time.”

  She sent Jonathan to the truck for some larger things she’d brought that she might find useful, and he hauled them on deck.

  Aryl and Jonathan knew well enough to just get out of her way. She wasted no time setting up a small table next to the door of the wheelhouse with a silver tea service on a blue linen tablecloth.

  Jonathan liked the touch but wondered if he could keep everything from spilling off the table if seas were choppy. She moved to the tables on the deck next. Matching blue tablecloths covered the marred wood, and she placed a short arrangement of blue and white flowers in the center of each. The vases had been painted gold. Simple. Masculine. She took a moment to move flowers about, just microns to the left or right until she was happy. She wanted to do more…so much more, but the atmosphere had to reflect the occasion and these were men who’d paid money to be taken to the best fishing spots in the Atlantic. They’d want a hint of luxury, but what they were paying for was the overall fishing experience. This was the hardest part for Arianna. Deciding when to stop.

  She stood back and dropped a hand on her hip, her eyes trailing over her decorations. “Well, it’s rather like putting lipstick on a pig…but she’s a pretty pig now.”

  Aryl hesitated pointing out that the pig she was referring to was the ‘Ahna-Joy.’ He snickered to himself instead.

  Maura bustled forward with her basket. She placed it on the table as Arianna kept a hawk’s eye on her arrangements.

  “I have somethin’ ye might like, Mr. Jonathan. It was Ian’s idea and Ian’s doing, actually. He made these lunch boxes fer ye.” From the basket, she pulled a wooden box, beautifully made, and stained a dark oak. Opening the hinged lid, they could see a hearty ham sandwich bursting with lettuce and tomato, an apple, two cookies, and a tart.

  “There are six.” She winked. Before they could thank her, she walked to the wheelhouse. “I thought ye could stack them up here, underneath the tea service until it’s time to eat.”

  “Maura, this is positively brilliant. Thank Ian for us. Actually, I’ll thank him myself next time I see him.”

  “Just don’t let them take the boxes with them when they go. Return them to me, and I’ll repack them for the next outing.”

  “This really is a nice touch. Better than pulling sandwiches from a basket and tossing them around.” He put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. She grinned.

  “I think you’ll do well with the new venture, Mr. Jonathan.” She looked up at him, squinting against the sun. “I’m proud of ye for finding an opportunity.”

  “Well, it was Aryl’s father-in-law’s idea,” he said.

  Aryl looked as if he’d rather choke than give credit. He flashed a tight smile and stayed silent.

  “Having an idea is one thing. Turning it into something is what matters. Speaking of which, it looks like yer first customer is here, so we’d best get out of the way.”

  Jonathan saw them both off the boat and walked to greet the sleek black car pulling into the lot. Two men exited, looking around excitedly. They were dressed identically in light green wool slacks, black boots, and puffy knit fisherman’s sweaters.

  Jonathan snickered to himself. Try as they were to look the part, he knew they would absolutely boil under the sun in those clothes. Jonathan, knowing the season, dressed in layers, and he’d already peeled off his sweater, leaving him in a thinner button down and a white undershirt.

  “Well, you did choose a good day for an outing, Edmond. Bravo.”

  “I was rather hoping for a stormy day, Reginald.” Noting his friend’s grimace, he asked, “What? Not up for a little adventure on the high seas?” He then slashed his fist across his chest.

  It took everything Jonathan had not to roll his eyes. If these men only knew the real danger they faced trying to support their families, they might not treat it like an amusement ride. He hoped they wouldn’t make any ignorant comments in front of Aryl.

  They caught sight of him and their faces lit up.

  “Ah, you must be Captain Jonathan,” Edmond called as they approached.

  “I am. Nice to meet you.” They declined to shake hands, more concerned with their gear.

  “Our things are in the backseat. Poles, tackle, and the like.” Edmond gestured weakly to the car.

  Oh. That meant Jonathan was supposed to
fetch them.

  “That wasn’t stated in the brochure,” he grumbled under his breath as he went.

  Edmond Blake and Reginald Peters. He knew nothing of these men outside their names from the reservation they made. And, of course, that they were acquaintances of Ruth. As he leaned into the back seat of the immaculately clean car, he wondered what these men did when not seeking adventure on the high seas. He supposed it would come out in conversation. Wealthy men liked to brag about their accomplishments.

  He was surprised they had waited for him at the edge of the lot. Then he realized they were waiting to be accompanied to the boat. He wondered if they’d also want him to hold their hands as they boarded. Again, he resisted the urge to scoff aloud and, instead, put on a pleasant smile as he approached.

  “If you gentlemen will follow me,” he said, leading the way, his arms full of tackle and gear. As soon as he took the lead, he dropped the smile. Dealing with aristocratic snobbery was a business hardship he hadn’t anticipated.

  Another car pulled in next to the first. A driver exited and opened the back door. Out stepped a young man, followed by another. They were dressed more appropriately, in thin dark pants, button-up plaid shirts, and flat caps. Jonathan handed the first guests over to Aryl and hurried to meet the new ones. By the time he got to them, the car was pulling away, leaving them holding wooden tackle boxes and poles. Jonathan threw up a hand in welcome.

  “Oh, good. We’re in the right place,” one young man said.

  “If you’re here for the guided fishing tour, you are. I’m Jonathan.”

  “I’m Isaac. This is my brother, Frank.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Jonathan held his hand out for their gear and they flustered, setting it down quickly to each shake his hand.

  It dawned on Jonathan what these two were. Without a doubt, new money. He saw in them what he’d experienced many years ago after sudden success. An unsure awkwardness. Wanting but not knowing if you were acting socially appropriate. Trying to look the part, even though you didn’t feel a part of it yet.

  “Would you like me to take your gear?”

  “Oh, no. We can carry it.”