Bittersweet Graces

Kenneth Greene confessed to everything. In the days that followed his arrest, Claire learned that, although Officer Murphy hadn’t thought him capable of organizing it, the details he gave were so precise and specific there was no doubt he was responsible.

“But how did he know so much about Brandon? The things he said to me.”

“He’s a stalker, Ms. Cooke. From the looks of it, he’s been doing this for a long time. But,” Tom removed his peaked cap, scratching his head, “there are signs he may not be mentally stable. So, he’ll be undergoing a full psychiatric evaluation.”

“What about how he spoke to her?” Danny asked. “Did you figure that out?”

“Sound laser.” Officer Murphy pulled out a photograph of the device and set it on the kitchen table. “Directs the sound to a specific target while the user can stay hidden.” Claire picked up the picture, studying it closely. “They’re easily bought online, but I’ve never seen one like this. Most direct sounds to a receiver, but this one can mimic a human voice directly to a person. There’s no serial number or manufacturer’s name on it. Probably because—”

“It’s a prototype,” she answered.

“Yes, have you seen it before?”

She blinked a few times and shook her head. “No, not this specifically. But it reminds me of some of the devices Jacob Matthews creates. I only know because my son took an interest in his work.”

He wrote a note. “Well, that’s a good place to start.”

After Officer Murphy left, Claire sank into a chair. Kenneth had stalked her. Used wind machines that he stored in an old storm cellar off the property. Had pictures of her, microphones, listening devices, and voice distorters. All inside his “taxi.”

The same taxi she’d stupidly ridden in the back of.

“Stop.” Danny took her face in his hands. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, stop. Anyone could have made the same mistake.”

He had to give her the same gentle reminder a few more times. But as the hours stretched into days and days into weeks, her anxiety over it began to fade. He’d been caught. The “whys” didn’t matter anymore.

Instead, she let her days fill with Danny. Living side by side, they continued all their cherished couple habits. Only now with hand holding and long embraces, light touches, and careful kisses.

Every night he carried her to bed with her wide awake.

“You know I can walk.”

Danny smirked. “How else am I gonna sneak a leg-feel and keep this relationship moving slowly?” He squeezed under her thigh, and she laughed.

The hardest part was not reliving their heavy first kiss. Especially when he’d walk out of his room shirtless and glistening after his morning workout routine, mindlessly torturing her. Or when she’d overheard him in the bathroom after she’d showered, cursing.

“You’re killing me, Claire, I can smell you in here.” And she’d slid down the outside of the door, face on fire.

They worked hard to keep the kisses chaste, sweet, innocent, but the moment their lips would touch, the match would ignite. And before she knew it, Danny would have her up against a wall, panting.

And so, for the first time in her life, with a wide smile on her face and a pout on his, Claire became the woman who put a stop to a kiss.

On the Saturday Claire’s son was to arrive, Danny called a staff meeting before Flygande opened. He kept Claire close. His entire left side, from shoulder to foot, attached to her right side. Reaching out, he hooked his pinky with hers, inhaling a deep breath.

“Are you sure?” she whispered.

“Positive.” He cleared his throat and addressed the small group. “I know you’ve all been speculating behind our backs, so Claire and I decided to let you know that yes, we are together, but we’re taking things slow.”

Ian and Emelie whistled and cheered, and Danny wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a quick exchange of money. If he had to guess, they’d taken bets on that announcement. Emelie came out the winner.

Danny, feeling that was all he needed to say on the matter, went over the list of things needing to be done before Greyson arrived while Claire excused herself to head up to the apartment.

“Wait.” Danny followed her to the stairs and drew her into his arms, kissing her forehead. He couldn’t believe he got to do that whenever he wanted now.

“That went well,” she said.

He touched her cheek, looking over her face. Since this morning, when he’d asked if she was excited to see her son, she’d gone quiet. Her brow constantly pinched. There was something she wasn’t telling him, but he wasn’t sure if he should push.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said before letting her go with one last small kiss.

“We were betting on when they’d get more serious, not when they’d have sex.” Emelie’s rising voice echoed in the dining area. “Is everything about sex with you?”

Danny wasn’t sure if he wanted to know who she was talking to, but peeked around the corner just as Fin answered, “It can be.”

Danny groaned, whispering, “Not helping yourself, kid.”

“I’ll be back before opening, Ian.” Emelie snatched her purse, tearing her glare from Fin. “Pappa’s wanting me to try and talk to our long-term-er and get him to open up more space.”

Danny snickered when Ian smacked the back of Fin’s head, saying, “Sometimes, I think you’re the biggest ass in the family.”

“What did I do?”

Danny started making his way to the office as Ian answered, “For one, stop acting like Mattie and Dean. They’re both single for a reason. Second, is being a vomit mouth really the way you plan to ask her out? You like her right?”

“For a little while.”

“How long?”

Fin cleared his throat. “Since ninth grade.”

Ninth grade? Danny pivoted. Maybe he’d stick around for this conversation after all.

Ian swiped a hand down his face. “Try a little romance, Finlay. Or at least, in your case, learn how to talk to a woman without turning her off faster than a light switch.”

“This coming from the guy who couldn’t even keep his woman.”

Danny winced, and Ian’s fingers curled in. His knuckles white. “I didn’t lose, Molly,” he said in a low voice. He leaned in close, and Fin swallowed, eyes wide as he eased back.

Danny moved quickly. “Start with cleaning the table legs.” He threw a rag at Fin’s face.

Ian’s phone rang, probably saving Fin’s life. All the color drained from Ian’s face, and it wasn’t until he answered that Danny understood.

“Molly?” His voice shook. “Hey, what’s going on? You okay?”

He stormed out the front door, and Danny let out a long sigh, turning to Fin. “If you want to live until your twenty-first birthday, I suggest you never say that shit to him again.”

Twenty minutes later Ian came back in, strides long and fast. He went immediately behind the bar and poured a pint before slapping the door into the kitchen with a crack.

Danny huffed a deep breath and poured another pint. Gathering himself with another inhale, he eased the kitchen door open.

Ian stared into a pit of golden, aerating bubbles around frozen breaded sticks of cheese, gulping his pint. The last time he ate Molly’s favorite food was right after she moved from the island.

Danny crossed his arms, waiting.

Ian didn’t speak but shook the fryer basket unnecessarily and hissed when hot oil popped onto his skin.

Danny sighed and replaced Ian’s empty glass with the full one. “What’s wrong with Molly?”

“She’s peachy.” Ian finished half the second pint. “She’s getting married to Jack.”

Danny took a step closer. “You alright?”

He took another huge gulp of ale. “I knew it would happen eventually.”

“Doesn’t make it easier.”

“Nope.” Ian popped the “p” and a cheese stick burst in the hot oil. “Dammit.” He hooked the fry basket to the back of the fryer with a long sigh.

Danny studied the face he knew so well, gauging whether this would require more than ale.

Molly had been Ian’s world, but when they’d realized their lives were going in different directions, they’d separated. That didn’t mean Danny didn’t have to pick his best friend up off the literal floor several times.

That memory tightened his chest, deepening his voice. “Are you having second thoughts?”

Ian’s red eyes slowly met his before he shook his head. “It was the right thing to do. She deserved the chance to settle down and raise that family she wanted. I couldn’t keep her here just to be my friend, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer and dumped the pile of ruined cheese into a towel-filled basket.

“It’s hard right now because you’re still in between,” Danny said. “Once you’re ordained, everything will settle.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Ian swiped a hand across his leaking eyes and whispered, “What if she forgets about me?”

Like his mom did. Danny’s insides squeezed. In front of him wasn’t the grown man Ian had become, but the torn-up young boy who’d waited by the bridge every day for the mother who’d never return.

Danny swallowed hard. “Look, I know you don’t like to talk about this, but I’m going to say it anyway. So, don’t punch me.”

Ian slowly faced him, lifting one brow.

“Your mom walked out on you, and you blamed yourself just like your dad blamed you. Molly isn’t walking out on you.”

Ian quickly dropped his head, rubbing his eyes, and Danny knew his words hit home. “She’s still the same Molly who’s always been in your corner,” he continued. “Her getting married doesn’t change anything.” He eyed him before repeating quietly, “She’s not walking out on you.”

Ian slumped back against the table beside Danny. It was a long moment before he finally nodded. Shoulder to shoulder, they stared at the white wall across from them.

“I miss her,” Ian said.

“Even when she yelled at you in Spanish?” Danny’s stomach unclenched when Ian slowly smiled.

“Especially that. Still hear her in my head when I want to do something stupid.”

Danny laughed, and Ian cleared the remaining evidence of his tears. “She said Jack wants to meet me.”

“Molly doesn’t realize he wants to meet his competition, does she?”

“My little grace has no clue.” They bumped shoulders, shaking in silent laughter.

“Chicken.” Claire burst through the kitchen door.

Ian wobble-balanced the basket of mozzarella sticks to keep them from falling.

“We’re having chicken tonight,” she said.

“Yes?” Danny said.

“We can’t have chicken. Greyson is vegetarian. My son is a vegetarian, and I almost served him chicken.” She gripped his forearm. “How could I forget he was a vegetarian?”

“Claire.” He smiled and took her gently by the arms. “It’s an honest mistake. You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

She rubbed the healing scar on her forehead. “Yes, but I’m his mother. I should’ve remembered.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. Look, let me think for a minute.” He snapped his fingers. “Gene carries some vegetarian stuff. What does he like?”

“When he was little, he loved french fries.” She stared down at her feet as they aligned together. “A couple of years ago, it was veggie burgers.” She half-smiled and then it faltered. “I-I don’t know what he eats now.”

Danny went quiet, tipping his head to the side. He wanted to ask how she didn’t know what he ate, but she turned jittery and started pacing, chewing on the side of her thumbnail. Touching her arm, he pulled her to stand still. “It’s an easy fix. We’ll give him lots of choices. I can make potato leek soup, or we can pick up some eggplant Parmesan from De Luca’s.”

Ian coughed “bastards” into his hand, and Danny flipped him off behind his back.

“I also know a few Indian recipes,” Danny said. “Or Gene keeps tofu stocked and I can make a stir-fry.”

“Daniel, that’s too much for you to do.”

“Nah.” Ian munched on the busted cheese stick. “He’d love a chance to show off. The man can cook almost anything.”

“It’s true.” Danny smiled, hoping to put one on her face.

She didn’t smile but relaxed a little and took his hand up to her mouth and kissed it. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”

“I don’t know about amazing, but feel free to keep telling me that.”

She laughed—then gasped. “Wait.”

Ian jumped again. Danny didn’t know how much more of Outburst Claire his mozzarella sticks could take.

“I don’t know what he drinks. He’s too young for alcohol, too old for juice.” She held her face in both hands.

Danny let out a full laugh. “Claire, calm down. You said he’s sixteen, right? We’ll just serve him soda. I’ve got all the flavors.”

“Right.” She dropped her head with a deep breath. “That’s what he’ll probably want because he’s definitely not getting any at—” She stopped and looked between them, forcing a smile. “Never mind.” She placed a soft kiss on Danny’s cheek and spun on her heel, pulling out her phone. “If he’d just answer my texts, none of this would be an issue.” She shoved out the swinging door.

“Is she okay?” Ian said slowly. “I’ve never seen her that undone before.”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “I haven’t asked, but I think their relationship is strained.”

“That poor woman is stressing and possibly losing whole fingernails over what a sixteen-year-old boy wants to eat and drink. Meanwhile, I guarantee you he doesn’t give two shits about it.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Danny stood in silent thought, watching the door slow down its swing.

“Besides Greyson, how are things with you two?”

Danny’s mouth slowly curled. “They’re good. Still taking it slow—painfullyslow.” He scrubbed his face. “She suggested we probably shouldn’t kiss too much if we’re going to keep it that way.”

Ian fought back a smile. “How’s that workin’ for you?”

“My God.” Danny groaned. “I think it might actually kill me, but she’s right. I have zero self-control when I start.” Ian barked a laugh, and Danny smirked. “Other than that, it’s nice,” he said. “She even seems happy with island life.” Unlike Jessica, he didn’t add.

“That’s because we islanders are slowly corrupting her mainlander ways,” Ian said. “Before you know it, she’ll be normal, just like us.”

Danny tried to force a smile, but it wouldn’t come.

“Hey.” Ian nudged him with his shoulder. “I know you meant it that you can’t give her an inch without giving her all. So, it’s okay to give yourself this time to get this settled.” He tapped Danny’s head.

“What if it never does? What if my stupid freak-outs keep happening, and I wait too long? She might give up on me by then.”

“First of all, this is Claire.” Ian crossed his arms. “Second, this is Claire.”

Danny rolled his eyes, but got the point.

“Just keep things open. Do that thing you hate doing.” Ian leaned into him. “Share your fee-elings.”

Danny shoved him, and he grinned.

Sobering, Ian said, “Trust takes time, Danny. So, give it time.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“’Bout five seconds ago.” Ian picked up his basket of cheese and sang, “Danny and Claire sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s—” Danny knocked his head to the side, and Ian kicked him back with a loud laugh.