about plants was that the root part went into the ground, Evie was the obvious choice to spend six weeks mulching and planting flower beds.
Suspiciously, her sisters were always too busy to help out but never too busy to call and check up on her.
But Evie loved them. Even bossy, tell-it-like-it-is Caitlin. And she knew they loved her. And really, was it their fault all she could find to fill up three months of summer vacation was painting her front door, transplanting tomato plants and living vicariously through the lives of the characters in her favorite books?
Evie had missed most of her program during the kissing-up portion of the conversation so she turned off the television and closed her eyes.
I want my own story, God.
Even as the thought rushed through her mind, she treated it like the mutiny that it was.
Your own story! What are you talking about? You’re a junior high science teacher. Shaping impressionable minds. It’s a high calling.
Wasn’t she the first teacher who’d taken the Rock of Ages Christian School to first place in the science fair competition the past few years? While all the other schools had entered working volcanoes and posters labeling the parts of a rocket, her students had brought in inventions. Like Micah Swivel’s solar-powered toaster. And everyone knew the reason Angie Colson won the spelling bee with the word bioluminescence was because Evie had just finished a unit on insects. The day before, Angie had taken the chapter test and had chosen fireflies, a stellar example of bioluminescence, as the subject of her required essay. They’d shared the victory, celebrating with doughnuts and hot chocolate in the teachers’ lounge.
Evie basked in the knowledge she had been loved by every seventh and eighth grader in her charge since the school had hired her. And if their test grades didn’t prove their devotion, the number of cookies on her desk every morning did.
She had a story all right. It just happened to be woven into the lives of an age group most people ran, screaming, away from. She thrived between the months of August and May. The summer months made her feel restless. And lonely.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t fuss too much when her sisters rearranged her summer plans. It was nice to be needed. And she couldn’t deny that their father, whom they affectionately referred to as the absentminded professor, needed a watchful eye.
Evie reached for the phone and pressed Speed Dial.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Dad. I hear you’re going fishing.”
Chapter One
Sam Cutter had driven almost twelve hours when an old joke suddenly came back to him. Something about a town not being the end of the world but you could see it from there.
Now he knew that place had a name. Cooper’s Landing. And it was cold. No one had warned him that winter released its grip with excruciating slowness along Lake Superior’s shore. The second week of June and the buds on the trees had barely unfurled in shy, pale shades of green.
He drove slowly down the main street and pulled over next to the building that sagged tiredly on the corner. The color of the original paint on the clapboard siding was only a memory, and the shingles had loosened from the roof, curling up at the ends like the sole of a worn-out shoe. A red neon sign winked garishly in the window. Bait.
He glanced at the girl slumped against the window in the passenger seat. Her lips were moving silently, showing signs that yes, there was brain activity. Since she hadn’t talked to him for the past five hours, he’d been forced to watch for obvious signs of life. They’d been few and far between. Changing the song on her iPod. The occasional piece of candy being unwrapped. A twitch of her bare toes. Well, not completely bare. One of them had a toe ring.
He touched her elbow and she flinched. Sam tried not to flinch back. Once upon a time she’d been generous with her hugs.
“Faith? I’ll be right back.”
She frowned and yanked out a headphone. “What?”
“We’re here. I’ll be right back.”
She straightened, and her gaze moved from window to window. She had a front-row seat to view Cooper’s Landing, and Sam expected to see some expression on her face. Shock? Terror? Instead, she shrugged and pushed the headphone back in place.
He wished he could disengage from reality and disappear into another world so easily.
The warped door of the bait shop swung open when he pushed on it, releasing an avalanche of smells. The prominent ones were fish, sauerkraut and bratwurst. Sam’s eyes began to water.
“Let me guess. Cutter. You look just like your old man.”
Sam saw a movement in the corner of the room just after he heard the voice. Between the heavy canvas awning shading the street side of the building and the tiny row of windows, the sunlight couldn’t infiltrate the inside of the bait store. Shadows had taken over, settling into the maze of shelves. The lightbulbs flickering over his head held all the power of a votive candle.
“Sam Cutter.” Sam walked toward the voice.
He heard a faint scraping noise and a man shuffled toward him out of the gloom, wiping his hands on a faded handkerchief. By the time he reached Sam, he’d stuffed it in the pocket of his coveralls and stretched out his hand.
“Rudy Dawes.”
Sam shook his hand even as he silently acknowledged that a long, hot shower and half a bottle of the cologne he’d gotten for his birthday weren’t going to completely strip away the bait store’s unique blend of odors.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. S’pose you’re anxious to get a look at her.” Rudy squinted up at him.
“That’s why I’m here.”
Rudy started to laugh but quickly broke into a dry, hacking cough. “Come on, she’s outside.”
Sam followed him to the back of the store, and his boot slipped on something, almost sending him into a skid that would have taken out a shelf full of fishing reels. He didn’t bother to look down, not wanting to know what was filling the tread of his hiking boot. In some cases, ignorance was bliss.
Rudy pushed the door open, and Sam found himself standing on a rickety platform that trembled above an outcropping of rocks. At the base of the rocks, a blackened, water-stained dock stretched over the water. With one boat tied to it. Sam stared at it in disbelief as it nodded in rhythm with the waves.
“There she is. The Natalie. She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Rudy tucked his hands in his pockets and bowed his head in respect against the crisp breeze that swept in to greet them.
“That’s the boat?”
Faith had materialized behind them, and Sam twisted around to look at her. She’d pushed her chin into the opening of her black hooded sweatshirt but the tip of her nose was pink, kissed by the wind.
“It can’t be.” Sam blinked, just to be sure the faded gray boat wasn’t a hallucination due to the sleepless nights he’d been having. “When I talked to Dad, he said the boat was new.”
