mind never rested. And she feared nothing.
Completely unlike Sean herself. Afraid of everything.
As she and Willa took turns kicking the pinecone, Sean noticed the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon now, leaving the sky a grayish purple streaked with marigold. The light surrounding them was nothing more than a haze, and she could smell the salty sea. Even with Willa’s chatter and the occasional gull’s screech, Sean heard hundreds of night bugs begin to chirp. Cassabaw Station was a pretty place, a hidden gem that seemed to have wedged itself into another time and not budged. Ahead, Willa waited at the cemetery’s old rusty gate, hopping from foot to foot impatiently. Sean stepped clear of the path, met her daughter at the gate, lifted the old latch and they walked inside.
“There’s one, Mama!” Willa cried out almost immediately. Sean looked, and sure enough, she’d already found a lightning bug. Then another, and another. Willa leaped and giggled as she chased the blinking insects, flitting around like a little firefly herself. Sean stood back and grinned. Savored the small moment of joy in their lives.
“Careful not to step on the graves, Willa,” Sean called.
“I’m careful!” Willa answered. “Come on, chase them with me!”
Sean joined her daughter, and together, they raced, jumped and squealed as they cupped their hands together to capture the illuminated creatures, then peeked through the cracks of their fingers to see each little bug’s bottom light up. She watched Willa and thought how beautiful her daughter was; so young, innocent, carefree and full of love and laughter. Sean suddenly regretted not having a camera to photograph Willa, to catch her with the light just right, making her truly seem like a little woodland sprite. Sean prayed Willa would never know cruelty, possessiveness. Or evil. Only love. Joy.
It was then that Sean heard heavy footsteps on the path. She stopped and whipped around. A dark figure jogged toward them, a neon yellow band around his head the only thing standing out. For a moment, fear strangled her insides, and her gaze darted to her daughter. To the figure, growing closer, then to her daughter again.
He was big—much bigger than she was—and probably faster, too. Even from where she stood, and in the low light of dusk, she could tell he was muscular, fit. Sean didn’t know him, or anyone else on the island. And they were about as isolated as they could be. He was right between her and her daughter.
“Willa, come here!” Sean called out. “We have to go. It’s getting dark fast.”
“Mama, I’m busy!” Willa replied, annoyed. “Just a few more minutes.”
“Willa, now!” Sean demanded, and broke into a run toward her. Sean had to reach Willa. She couldn’t let the jogger get close to her daughter.
As the figure jogged past the cemetery, he spoke. “Evening,” he said in a low voice, with a short nod and a slight Carolina drawl. His longish hair was pulled back, and a beard covered his lower jaw.
He kept on jogging.
Sean kept her eyes on the man but didn’t reply. He ran in the direction she and Willa would return, then disappeared from sight.
Sean’s tension slowly eased, and she turned to Willa. “Just a few more minutes, then.”
“Thanks, Mama,” she cried, and continued chasing the lightning bugs and talking to the ghosts, as if they were all sitting around watching her.
Sean let out a long sigh and turned her stare in the direction the stranger had disappeared. She hated that she allowed such terror. He’d been merely jogging, nothing more. The hazy light fell faster by each passing second, and she wondered briefly if she’d ever, ever stop looking over her shoulder. If the fear would ever leave her alone.
“MAMA! CAN WE get an ice cream cone? Please?”
Sean shielded her eyes against the sun beaming down as they ambled along Cassabaw’s boardwalk. She shook her head. “You haven’t had dinner yet, Willa.”
“How about a hot dog?” Willa, dressed in a blue tank top and white shorts and sneakers, pointed toward the pier. “From that man with the cart?”
Sean squinted as she glanced at the hot dog vendor and his pushcart with a broad, red-and-white-striped umbrella. “But you need veggies, sweetie.”
Willa crossed her skinny little arms over her chest. “Mama, you don’t get veggies at a hot dog cart.” She clasped her hands together and jumped up and down. “Pleeeeeease?”
“Okay, but double veggies tomorrow night.”
Willa took off toward the vendor, and Sean followed. “Two, please,” she requested. “And a bottle of water.”
“Put lots of ketchup and mustard on mine, please,” Willa requested.
“No onions?” a low voice said from behind.
Sean turned and came face-to-face with the bearded jogger from the cemetery. Well, face-to-face only after she looked way up. He was tall—at least six foot one or two. He wore a kerchief tied around his head, and dark shades covered his eyes. She couldn’t help but notice the size of his biceps, and the sun-kissed color of his skin. He was every bit as mammoth as she’d thought the night before. A force she would be unable to stop, if the situation came down to that. She pushed herself to her full height, edging herself between the stranger and her daughter. In a way, she felt silly. They were in public. Just a small coastal town. More than likely, everyone within a hundred-yard radius knew him. Yet, he unsettled her. So she took caution.
Willa, though, peered around Sean and looked at him, too, and made a face. “Those are stinky,” she said. “Mama, why are you in my way?”
“Willa,” Sean warned. Suddenly, she wanted to be...away. Not in this place. Not with attention drawn to them. It was the last thing she wanted.
“Yeah, but good on a dog,” the stranger said, continuing his conversation with Willa. His voice had a slight rasp. A slightly lilted Carolina accent. “You should try it.” One corner of his mouth lifted, and Sean noticed full lips and straight white teeth. “Best dogs on the Eastern Seaboard.”
“What is an Eastern Seaboard?” Willa asked.
“Pah! Eastern Seaboard. Best dogs of anywhere in world!” the vendor cried out in a broken accent. He seemed like a friendly guy, and clearly was a regular on the beachfront.
“Sorry, Hendrik. Best dogs of anywhere in the world,” the stranger agreed.
“For the lady?” Hendrik asked Sean. She noticed he was polite, too. Respectful. She liked that.
“Just mustard for me, thanks,” she answered the vendor, watching his dark brown eyes assess her closely.
“Are you gonna get stinky onions all over yours?” Willa asked the stranger.
“I am,” he replied. “You?”
“Nah,” Willa replied.
“Willa, what have I told you?” Sean needed to stop the exchange. Willa would talk to a goat if she’d let her. Her daughter had no fear, and that alone put terror into Sean’s heart.
Willa sighed. “Never talk to strangers,” she answered, then looked at the stranger, squinting against the sun. “Mama says child abductors and serial killers and just plain ole weirdos lurk everywhere and that I should be extra extremely careful.”
“Willa,” Sean growled. She glanced at the stranger, wishing she could at least see his eyes. You could tell a lot in a person’s eyes, she’d learned. That grin remained on his face.
“It’s true,” Hendrik added. “Must be careful at all times, little one. Many weirdos.” He handed her the hot dogs, wrapped in red-and-white-checkered waxed paper, and pulled an icy-cold