The Way Back. Stephanie Doyle

his plate.

      “You want a cucumber in exchange?

      “Is that a joke?”

      “Right. So, tell me what it’s like here.”

      “It’s quiet. What you would expect. A few small businesses, but most of the folks here are fishermen. Lobstermen to be exact.”

      “Lobster. That’s right. This is Maine.” It was odd. Suddenly Gabby felt like Dorothy emerging from her tornado-tossed house. She wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

      He scowled at her. “You don’t know where you are?”

      “I know where I am,” she snapped. “I guess it just occurred to me where the place was. I’ve been more focused on the journey. By way of Philadelphia.”

      “So what happened?”

      She wasn’t sure what he meant and her face must have shown that.

      “You. Here. The big story. Something sent you on your way. Turned you back into a newbie.”

      She shifted in her seat. Telling him the story wasn’t as easy as it had been telling the women. “I got fired.”

      “And you’re here to start your life over. I knew it.”

      “Something like that.”

      He shook his head and pushed away the plate. He’d devoured the burger and between the two of them they’d eaten every fry. Gabby took another stab at a tomato to counterbalance the fat.

      “I’m nobody’s do-over.”

      “I didn’t say that. Look, at first I thought this was going to be a simple retrieval assignment for my boss. But I realize there is something more here. Something bigger. I don’t want to write anyone’s story. I want to write yours.”

      “You’ll need to get used to the disappointment. Since I didn’t order the burger I figure dinner is on you.”

      Vaguely, Gabby wondered how she might sneak it into her expense report. Although she didn’t imagine McKay would mind her buying their meal ticket dinner. “Done. But you need to leave the tip.”

      “Why?”

      “They won’t take my money.”

      He slid out of the booth and dropped a five dollar bill on the table. “You better get used to that, too. Folks around here won’t take kindly to what you’re doing.”

      “What are they going to do? Kick me off the island?” She thought she’d made a joke. But he didn’t smile.

      “They might.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      “WHAT’S THIS?” GABRIELLA held out the neatly typed piece of paper to Susan the next day so she could see it clearly. “I found it under my room door this morning.”

      “Yes, dear. It’s your bill.”

      “But isn’t that typically something you give to someone at the end of their stay?”

      Susan smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sure you’ve seen all our little island has had to offer. Surely you have all the material you need for your book. Your fiction book.”

      The jig was up. Either Zhanna or Adel had talked. Or word got out simply because that’s how a small town rolled. Now Susan was trying to be polite and sweet while at the same time kicking Gabby out on her ass.

      “I’ll go pack my things.”

      “Yes, dear. I’ll have your dry wheat toast waiting for you downstairs for your last breakfast.”

      Gabby nodded and went to clean out her room. After choking down the toast, she loaded the rental car with her suitcase. She’d changed into her running clothes since the plan had been to attempt another late morning jog with Jamison. She could still meet up with him, perhaps farther along the beach. Her unphysical fitness would prove to be a blessing in this case because she didn’t need to worry about working up a sweat when she had nowhere to shower.

      But she told herself not to be ridiculous. Surely there had to be some other place on the island where she could stay. A motel. Another B and B.

      She would ask Jamison while they ran.

      * * *

      “NOPE.” JAMISON PUFFED as they headed down the strip of beach together.

      “No other place to stay on this whole island?”

      “Not a one. Guess it sucks for you. Oh, well. You gave it your best shot. Good luck getting this career started in New York.”

      Gabby watched him go from warm-up mode to high-gear mode. In the space of a minute he was yards and yards ahead of her. Eventually she came to a stop. She caught her breath and kept walking only to realize Shep wasn’t plodding along next to her. When she turned around she saw him lying on the sand.

      Something about the way he was laid out bothered her though. She called for Jamison but he was out of earshot. No doubt trying to put her as far behind him as fast as possible.

      Approaching the old dog, Gabby got down on her hunches. “Hey, are you okay?”

      A soft wine and whimper was her answer.

      She tried to give him a little nudge up on his feet but the dog only whimpered more. He wasn’t moving. He certainly wasn’t walking anywhere.

      Now what was she supposed to do? Jamison wouldn’t loop back here for at least another forty minutes. She couldn’t leave the poor dog sitting on the beach. And she sure wasn’t going to wait around while something awful might be happening when she could have gotten him to a vet.

      Decision made, Gabby began to use her foot to draw out some letters in the sand. That done she bent down and hauled what had to be forty pounds of German Sheppard into her arms and over her shoulder. As old as he was, he didn’t carry a lot of weight, but still he was as much as she could handle.

      “Okay, boy, stay with me now.”

      Carefully she made her way up the incline. Stopping a few times to catch her breath. This workout was way worse than jogging, but fortunately the old dog didn’t fight her, just laid over her shoulder with an occasional whimper. No struggle at all in fact.

      It made Gabby feel worse. Obviously something was wrong for the dog to be this complacent. Reaching the top, she spotted Jamie’s truck. It would be a whole lot faster to use than making her way down the long driveway to where she left her rental car. Taking a chance Jamie was a leave-the-keys-in-the-car person—wasn’t that a thing most small-town people did?—she opened the passenger door and settled Shep inside. The poor dog simply curled in on himself and closed his eyes.

      Running around the car to the driver side she opened the door and checked the center console for the keys. Nothing. She lowered the sun visor and found nothing there, either. Last shot was the glove compartment otherwise she would have to move Shep again—something she didn’t want to do.

      Pay dirt. A fat key ring sat in the compartment but the car key was the heaviest and easy to identify. Partway down the drive, she realized when Jamie returned from his run he would need to follow her. She reversed to where her car was parked, dropped the keys on the front seat, then drove on.

      She really had to hope the stuff about small towns being safe with low crime rates was true.

      “Okay, Shep we’re on our way.”

      Thanks to the coincidental meeting in the café last night, she knew the island had a vet. Of course, she didn’t have a clue where his office was located. She figured she could simply drive into town and someone there would help her. If not for her, then certainly for Jamison’s dog.