The Island House Chapter 8

Dawson turned in a slow circle, taking in the entirety of his new place—a three-hundred square-foot trailer. Hey, it had beachfront property, and a hammock in the tree it was parked under if he didn’t feel like sleeping indoors.

A tiny air conditioner had been plugged into the electrical outlet in this trailer park, and he stood right in front of it and barely felt any air at all.

Didn’t matter.

He liked small spaces, and he felt comfortable here. Now, bringing Charlotte here, that would be a whole different ballgame. But she hadn’t asked to see his new place, and he spent most of his free time up on the bluff, helping in her yard or slathering paint colors like midnight moon or fresh daisies onto the walls.

Now that she had a job, her home improvement projects had slowed down. But every time he saw her, she had something going on, from watering a dry patch of grass to tearing out the linoleum in the spare bathroom upstairs…that no one ever used. The woman never just sat down for a minute.

Well, unless he kissed her. Then she sort of melted into him and he could get her to lie with him in the hammock for a while. The conversation about her sister had stuck in his head, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Probably because you liked her and were disappointed you hadn’t gotten another date.” Which was true. Wilma had been beautiful, with great curves, and a vivacious personality. Dawson had liked her a lot, and it wasn’t until later that year that he’d realized Wilma was counting the number of boys she could get to take her out. He’d been number four.

He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered by that or not. She had flirted with him in history class until he’d taken her to the drive-in. Grilled cheese, burgers, and a flick he couldn’t remember. He did remember the blonde in the passenger seat, but not her little sister with more red in her hair.

It had been a few days since that conversation, and Dawson was starting to wonder if Charlotte had more plaguing her from her past than he knew. He had been determined to take things slow with her, but she had kissed him first.

So he wiped down the tiny counter in his trailer and stepped out onto the beach, firm in his resolve to keep his questions to himself and his phone securely in his pocket so he wouldn’t text her.

He walked to the edge of the shade and sat in the full sun, his heart pulsing double-time when his phone rang. It settled when he saw his brother’s name on the screen, but his adrenaline kept pumping through his bloodstream as if he’d just fought off a rabid dog.

“Hey, Rich.” Dawson listened to the sound of the waves coming into shore, beyond glad he’d chosen this place to start his second career. “How’s Allie?”

“Pregnant again.”

Dawson wasn’t sure if he should congratulate his brother or not. Rich had a very dry sense of humor, and he spent long hours pouring over briefs and helping others win cases.

“That’s great,” he ended up saying, because there was still a pause on the line. “Four kids, wow.”

“This one better be a boy,” he said.

“Is that what you’re doing? Going to keep going until you get a boy?” Dawson almost started laughing, but he held it back just in time.

“No,” he said. “This is it. But it would be nice to have more testosterone around here.”

“I’ll bet.” Dawson waited, because he hadn’t made this call.

“Mom wants to know if you might come home for Christmas.”

“Rich.” Dawson sighed. “I just…can’t.”

“Bronson broke up with Janet.”

“No, she broke up with him.” Dawson hated this conversation. “And besides, it isn’t about that.” Maybe it had been for a few years. Maybe five or six. But could anyone blame him for not wanting to spend time with his younger brother who had been engaged to Dawson’s ex-girlfriend?

That engagement had stretched on and on, until Janet had finally ended things. Dawson still hadn’t been home to see Bronson. Or his parents, which he knew hurt his mother.

“What’s it about, then?” Rich asked.

“I don’t fit there,” he said. “No one knows what to say to me, and I don’t know what to say to any of them.”

“We talk just fine.”

“Because you don’t think I should be married, or that I should’ve retired from the Air Force a decade ago, or that you get to dictate my life.”

“Will you at least think about it?”

“Sure,” Dawson said. It was only September. He had plenty of time to figure out a legitimate reason he couldn’t fly across the ocean for the holidays.

“So.” Rich exhaled heavily. “Anything new going on in Getaway Bay?”

Dawson considered telling him about Charlotte, but said, “There was this landslide a month or so ago, and a bunch of people got stuck on top of a mountain. That was pretty exciting.”

“You think people getting stranded is exciting?”

“I got to fly up and help with the rescue efforts. They were in this radio tower. Didn’t look all that dangerous to me, other than they couldn’t get down.”

“So you still love the flying.”

“I sure do.” And Dawson was so over defending himself for it. Just because his mother had loved Janet and couldn’t understand why Dawson wouldn’t give up everything he’d worked for to stay on the ground with the woman didn’t mean she was right.

His phone made a strange chiming sound, which meant someone had messaged him through one of his social media accounts. That usually spelled trouble, but today he seized onto it. “I have another call coming in. I have to go, Rich.”

“Think about it,” his brother said, and Dawson hung up.

He sighed out his frustration with his family before checking his phone again. A blonde woman sat in the little circle on the side of his screen. He tapped on her, and Wilma’s name came up.

How do you know Charlotte?

Oh, he wasn’t going to touch this. Was he? He let his phone fall without typing anything. They didn’t get along, and Wilma didn’t know where Charlotte was. Dawson certainly wasn’t going to tell her.

Charlotte who? he typed out.

She’s my sister, Wilma said. I see you’re friends now.

Dawson had requested Charlotte’s friendship the other day, and she must’ve finally accepted it.

Instead of replying to her sister, Dawson broke his promise to himself and dialed Charlotte’s number.

She answered after two rings, and he said, “I think I have a problem.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and it has to do with your sister.”

“My sister?”

“Yeah. So we’re friends, and she saw that you accepted my friend request too, and she wants to know how I know you.” He felt like he was about to lose Charlotte. “It’s no secret I live in Getaway Bay, and your sister seems…like the type to put two and two together.”

“She’s nosy, you mean.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it.” He chuckled, hoping a date from over twenty years ago wouldn’t come between him and Charlotte now.

“What did you tell her?”

“I tried to pretend I didn’t know you. But she saw we became friends.”

“I’ll talk to her.” She didn’t sound happy about it.

“I didn’t mean to cause a problem.”

“You’re not the problem.”

Relief filled him, and he decided to take a chance. “Does that mean you might want to go to dinner tonight?”

“Maybe,” she said.

Dawson’s hopes fell. “All right.”

“I just got a new bride for the holidays,” she said. “And she can’t come meet until five-thirty. If you’re willing to eat later, I can text you when I’m done.”

Dawson would eat at midnight if it meant he could see Charlotte. She was different than the other women he’d dated, starting with the fact that she didn’t think he needed to be fixed. Of course, he no longer flew for the Air Force, and maybe things would’ve been different if he was asking her to live with him at home only fifty percent of the time, or move every few years.

“Text me when you’re done,” he said. “I’m not working tomorrow either. Maybe you have a job for me at the house?”

“Are you offering free labor?”

For her, he’d do almost anything, and he wasn’t quite ready to reveal that yet. So he said, “Depends on the job.”

“If I make it indoors, where there’s air conditioning, does that change your mind?”

“Do I have to be down on my hands and knees? Because I have a bad knee, you know. I don’t think I’ve told you that.”

“Which knee?”

“My left one. Blew it out in a training exercise.”

“And yet you run on the beach every day.”

“Oh, let’s not exaggerate things. I maybe run three or four days a week.”

She laughed, and the awkwardness between them evaporated. “So maybe something easy like windows.”

“Washing them or tearing out the old ones and putting in new ones?”

She laughed again, and he knew it was the latter. “I’ll do it if you have some of those chocolate pops in the freezer.”

“Lucky for you, I was planning to go to the grocery store tonight. But I can’t if we’re going to go to dinner….”

Dawson heaved a sigh like no chocolate pops was the worst news ever. “Fine. I’ll buy the chocolate pops and bring them out myself.”

“I like it when plans come together so easily. Oh, I have to go.” She hung up before he could say anything else, and Dawson found himself smiling at the waves and wishing he had a chocolate pop right now.

* * *

“I didn’t think you were going to make it.” Charlotte stood as Dawson approached her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I got your text, and then I dropped my phone in the sink.” Well, it was the toilet, but he didn’t really want to tell her that. He received her into his arms and gave her a quick kiss, a fast, furious spark shooting through him.

“So I couldn’t text you.” He sat across from her at the tiny table with a single orchid in the middle of it. She’d already ordered drinks, and he stared at his. “You ordered my soda?”

“Diet Coke,” she said. “With lemon.” She looked anxious. “Did I mess it up?”

“No, no.” He grabbed it and took a long drink, the carbonation burning as it slid down his throat. “It’s great. Perfect.” He smiled at her. “It’s just something Janet would’ve—” He cut off, pure horror snaking through him.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes for a moment, and Dawson thought she might let the slip pass. Then she asked, “Who’s Janet?”