Hot Sand: A Pirate's Nest Story, #2

By Patricia Otto

Emmilu Claypool has to run. Far. She has to hide in a remote corner of an obscure some place, become someone else, because if her abusive husband ever finds her, she’s dead. Or worse. With the help of a network of volunteers calling themselves the Wheat Penny Railroad, she changes her name and sneaks away to the place her cousin’s pen pal has written about in detail. A paradise on the New England coast, with neighbors who watch out for one another and care about each other.

Pirate’s Nest.

Once she gets off the bus, Emmilu, now Emily Frost, can start over, relying only on herself and not dependent on a man ever again. Then she meets a tall, brawny guy with a compassionate smile and an easy approach. An unselfish man who changes everything, including her.

Jake Kincaid has helped his friend run the Tides Hotel since they left the army. Helping his mom raise his teenage half-brothers and finally out of debt from his lying, scheming ex-wife’s betrayal, Jake is at last out of the shifting sand and on solid ground.

It’s all good…until she walks into the hotel looking for a job. With the gray-green eyes of a stormy sea and curves in all the right places, Jake is right back in soft sand.

Being vulnerable to anyone is not part of his life plan, but it seems reality has other intentions. It doesn't help that every time she's near, his body and mind conspire against him.

Soon he's even making excuses to be around her. But Emily is more skittish then a field mouse and he has a growing suspicion that she has secrets. Big secrets. He’s got to take it slowly, earn her trust over time, help her open up her heart, even as she is opening his.

Emily knows better than to trust a man, especially her hulking steel-gazed boss with the confident stride and the unruffled demeanor. Nevertheless his gentle dogged pursuit and the warmth of a summer among the denizens of Pirate’s Nest melts Em’s anxious fearful heart, allowing her take baby steps toward trust.

But when her lies and frauds are exposed, can their burgeoning relationship and fragile trust Emily and Jake have withstand the storm? When her husband finds her, will she even come out alive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia S. Otto
• Release date: Jun 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781943860067

Patricia Otto

A few decades ago, I found out that most people don't make up stories about the people they watch while sipping ice tea at a cafe. They do not take a cast of characters from a book or movie and give them a whole new story. Who knew? I thought everyone did that. Then there were the out-of-the-blue-characters. The ones conjured up in my head, telling me their tales, pushing me to write their stories. Sharing them only seemed fair.

Book preview

Copyright

Hot Sand Copyright © 2017 by Patricia Otto

Cover Design by Glass Slipper Web Design

EBooks are not transferable. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the author. Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of the copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet, any electronic or prints means without the publisher's permission.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the writer's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Emmilu Claypool held the ice bag against her tender, swelling cheek. Earl’s footsteps faded to the other room. She checked her reflection in the shiny side of the toaster. Her left eyelid was puffing and there was a crescent of purple developing under her eye. The impact of his fist had opened a cut on her top lip and a lump near her hairline was becoming increasingly visible.

Earl walked back into the kitchen. She cowered, tracking his movements in the toaster. You do this every time. He spit chew into the sink. You invoke me into gettin’ mad. I don’t ask for much. All ya gotta do is have dinner ready on time and make sure there’s beer. That’s it. There are only two beers in the damned fridge. I work hard all day and I want a goddamn beer when I get home. Is that too much for a wife to do?

Sorry. I couldn’t walk to the store. I was waiting for the guy to come fix the refrigerator so your beer would be cold.

You broke the refrigerator? he screamed, adding a curse.

No, it’s old, Earl. Old things break. Anyhow it’s fixed.

He took a few steps toward her. And how much did that cost me? Why do you spend my money like it’s water? He yanked open the fridge muttering a string of curses. I’m going to the Dew Drop.

What about your dinner?

You made me too mad to eat. Fix me a damned plate. Maybe I won’t be too angry to eat by the time I get back.

Earl walked out of the house banging the door to prove his anger. Emmilu tuned her ears to the sound of his boots on the gravel driveway, the slamming of the truck door, and the tires spraying stones as he sped away. She jumped up to peek out through the curtains. When she was sure that he was gone, Emmilu picked up the phone and dialed the number she had memorized.

A female voice came through the receiver. Hello?

He’s gone.

Stay strong. I’ll have someone there in ten minutes.

She hung up the phone, dialed the weather and let it pick up. No need to make it easy for him by just having him star six nine. Then she ran up to their bedroom. She was surprised how easy it was to be deceitful once she had made the decision to run. Her heart should be pounding and her stomach churning, but she wasn’t even close to panic. Her brow was set, her jaw clenched, she was going. This time she was leaving or dying in the attempt. She refused to imagine that, should Earl come back right now, the latter was quite likely.

Yanking up the floorboard hidden by the dresser, she took the money—the few bucks and coins she had squirreled away for years—and stuffed them into her purse. The lady on the other end of the phone said no extra clothes, comfortable shoes and minimal ID. She wrapped her grandma’s candle sticks in a few clothes items before shoving them in a plastic bag.

The sound of tires on gravel almost stopped her heart. She peeked through the slats of the blinds. A minivan drove up in front of the double wide. She ran out of the house into the gathering dusk.

The passenger window of the minivan lowered. The driver, a gray-haired man, gave her an open smile. He held out a penny.

Em took the coin, flipping it over in her hand to make sure it was a wheat penny.

Get in, he said in a calm voice.

Emmilu complied.

I’m Harry Tubman. Don’t say anything. The less we know about each other the safer we both stay.

The man drove in silence for five minutes before he pulled the minivan into a Quickie Stop. Another car, another driver with a wheat penny and Emmilu was in the front seat of a sedan. This same scenario was repeated every hour or so until she didn’t know where she was—which seemed to be the point.

She tried not to think about anything other than the road passing under her feet and the lightening of the heaviness in her chest. Every mile was an ounce, no a pound.

The world was turning from black to gray when the car she was in turned into an expensive looking neighborhood. A papergirl tossed newspapers from her bike onto the driveways. A street sweeper kicked up dirt. The driver waited for the papergirl to pedal by before turning into the driveway of a huge brick house.

Wow, Emmilu whispered.

The garage door opened with a mechanical whir. The woman pulled her fancy car inside before hitting a button on her mirror which closed the garage door. This is it, the middle-aged woman behind the wheel said. Your stop over for a few hours. The woman got out of the car. Call me Harriet and I’ll call you Jane. After you have some food, I’ll show you to the guestroom downstairs. There is a bathroom for you to clean up.

Em stepped out of the car.

Harriet looked over the roof of the car. She must have gotten a good look at Em’s bruises because Harriet’s eyes widened for an instant. It’s a good thing I was the end leg, my husband is a doctor.

Emmilu shook her head. That’s okay, I’m sure it looks worse than it is.

Harriet opened the door into her house. Doc, she called out, we have a patient.

Emmilu followed Harriet through a laundry room that was bigger than the living room of the double wide. I’m fine, she said, walking behind Harriet. Earl’s done worse and you have done enough already.

One of the rules is that you put yourself into the hands of us railroad workers. Harriet pulled out one of the kitchen chairs as a country-doctor looking man rounded the corner.

Hello. He gave her a nod. Let me have a look.

For Em, the next few minutes were a blur of activity collapsing into growing fatigue. Harriet moved around the kitchen fixing food while Country Doc silently dressed her wounds.

Thank you, Em said. The doctor smiled then disappeared as quickly as he had come.

Harriet put a plate in front of Emmilu. I know the sun is barely up, but you look like you could use a drink.

I don’t drink. It costs too much.

Harriet smiled. I won’t charge you.

I wasn’t talking about money.

Harriet nodded. I know.

Em cleared her throat. Water is fine, please.

Harriet put a glass of water in front of Em before sitting at the table. There’s a train heading north that departs at eleven tonight. The sooner you put distance between you and him the better.

Okay. Emmilu dug into the plate of spaghetti. Hmm, this is delicious, thank you so much.

Harriet waved. No problem.

Emmilu ate in silence for a bit. How did you get started doing this? She huffed. I guess everyone asks that question.

Pretty much. My first husband was the inspiration for my becoming part of the Wheat Penny Railroad. All of us have been touched by abuse in one way or another. Some had spouses, some grew up with it, others have a loved one who was hurt or worse.

So, you’re busy then?

Busier than we want to be…than we ought to be.

How did the railroad get started?

I was at some fundraiser luncheon. Oh my, it has to be a dozen years or so now. We were all eating a fine rubber chicken meal raising money for some politician’s campaign. One of the women said something about raising money for people who really needed it. Like abused children or a women’s shelter. We were startled because real problems are not something that comes up in these types of functions. Harriet stirred her coffee. Next thing you know someone else pipes up about a sister leaving her husband and how hard it was to get away. A third said something about watching mom take it on the chin for her kids. Harriet gave a melancholy laugh. We stayed at the table after the fundraiser was over so we could talk. That first hour we let our skeletons out of their closets. Darned if it wasn’t a stack of bones a mile high. An hour after that we had a plan. Two months after that we helped our first woman escape her abusive life.

Wow. Ya’ll are really brave. Emmilu took a drink. I’m real grateful that I found out about you.

We fill a need. Harriet patted Emmilu’s hand. You took the first step, deciding to leave, that’s true bravery.

They were silent while she finished her dinner and Harriet drank her coffee.

Harriet put her cup in the sink. I’ll show you to the guest bathroom. Everything is there for you to take a nice hot bath or shower, whichever you prefer. In the guest room closet are clothes and shoes in different sizes. There are all sorts of toiletries, make-up, whatever you need. Pack one of the backpacks with whatever you want. Then you should try to get some sleep. She looked at her watch. Tonight the train will get you even further away.

# # #

Emmilu settled into an aisle seat in the middle of the train car. She had a one-way ticket to the Grand Central train station and a few hundred dollars for however many bus tickets she needed to take to get to where she wanted to start her new life. Harriet had given her a driver’s license that seemed legit if you didn’t look too close with a name on it that she had picked out herself. Emmilu Claypool from Tennessee was now Emily Frost from Louisiana. She picked a southern state so if her accent slipped out it wouldn’t be too jarring.

The train thumped in an ever faster cadence and for the first time Emily breathed freedom. Real. Pure. Sweet. That lasted about a minute. Then a more familiar stench filled the air. Acrid and musty like old sweat, fear seemed to scald the inside of her nose. Her pulse picked up, her head buzzed and it became harder to breathe. Where was her resolve of a few hours ago?

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the seat. It’s going to take time, Emily, she whispered. Emily.

Tickets, an older man in a uniform yelled. Have your paper or electronic tickets ready. He stopped beside her. Ticket?

She handed him the paper. When do we get to New York?

We’re running on time. If we stay that way we’ll get into the city tomorrow in the late evening.

Oh dear.

What’s wrong?

I have to get to the bus station for the next part of my trip.

You just have to walk down forty-second street to the Port Authority.

At night?

The Big Apple is the city that never sleeps.

She nodded. I’ve never been.

Are you staying or visiting?

Just passing through, I think.

You should be fine at that hour. Stay on forty-second. The train conductor searched her expression. He smiled.

She smiled back gratified that her make-up job successfully covered her bruises. I will.

The man passed a machine over her ticket then handed it back to her. Here you go, Miss.

She stared out the window into the blackness. Dots of light, evidence of the lives happening beyond the train, pricked holes in the darkness. Somewhere, in the next few days, her life, her new life, was going to be one of those dots of light that someone on a train would see as they were passing through the night.

Emily was going to find Pirate’s Nest. Her younger cousin had a pen-pal who lived in a place called Pirate’s Nest. Her cousin would talk non-stop in such detail about this town by the ocean, as if her cousin had ever seen anything other than the pond out behind her house.

Em would disappear to the smallest, most out of the way place she had ever heard of in her life. She had enough money to get her there. She would disappear because if Earl ever found her. If he ever did find her…

Chapter 2

Jake Kincaid flipped the magazine page. Why women looked at these ridiculous things was beyond him. Tests about what turns on your man, news flash ladies everything, five days to lose twenty pounds, if you only have five days cut off your leg, right next to dessert recipes, so much for losing twenty pounds. Silly.

Well, they’re not exactly designed with your demographic in mind.

He looked up to see Celia Asher, her arms crossed and her just graduated from high school attitude written all over her face. He had known his best friend’s daughter since before she was in kindergarten. She was sassy, opinionated and smart as hell. Three of many reasons why he liked her.

He moved from leaning his forearms on the desk to leaning one hand on the desk and flipping the page with the other. The whole magazine is about my demographic. He grinned.

Only a man would think this magazine is about them. She flipped the magazine closed.

They stared at each other for a few moments then burst out laughing.

Jake propped his butt on the stool behind the desk. Are you relieving me or is Grandma?

I’ll be back in an hour, she replied. Has it been busy?

Everyone who has a reservation is already here and we have two rooms vacant.

I’m sure they won’t be empty for long.

He took a sip of water from his cup behind the desk. I’m sure you’re right. Starting next week, we have no vacancies until after Labor Day.

Sounds like the start of a typical Pirate’s Nest summer.

When does your boyfriend get here?

J.J. will be here tomorrow. Celia hugged herself, smiling a goofy smile. We get to spend the whole summer together. I can’t wait.

So your dad is getting out the chastity belt then?

It’s a good thing I read books or I wouldn’t know what that was. She stuck out her tongue at him. No smartie pants, he’s giving J.J. a job.

That’ll work, too. Your dad probably plans on wearing J.J.’s ass out every night. He smirked. That’s what I’d do.

I feel sorry for your future daughters. She slapped the desk. See you in an hour.

Yup. Jake scanned the lobby of the Tides Hotel. For an early June day on the New England coast, it was warm. The sun was streaming in the lounge area with its white rocking chairs and flowery seat cushions. The sky was the blue he had only witnessed here and there was not a cloud in sight. There were waves of heat coming off the sand distorting the ocean behind it.

In a week, Pirate’s Nest would be bursting with tourists, and the Tides would be bustling with guests enjoying some down time until the days grew shorter and the evenings got cooler.

The only hitch was that they still didn’t have their full complement of workers. Hopefully now that school was out, a few of the high school kids would suddenly need a job.

The screen door opened with its familiar squeak. The woman who walked in almost stopped his heart. Small with curves in all the right places from her nice rack to her tiny ankles, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had red brown hair the color of autumn leaves that came to her chin and framed her eyes. And that mouth, damn those lips looked kissable as hell. Her gaze darted around the lobby before settling on him. Her gait was tense as if it took all of her nerve to approach him.

She smiled. H-hi. Do you work here?

He swallowed. Yes. You’re in luck, we have two vacancies.

She scooped her hair behind her ear with her finger. Uh, no, I’m, uh, I’m looking for a job. I saw your ad in this paper. She held out the Pirate’s freebie. I need a job. Her jaws clenched in a forced smile.

Jake eyed her up and down.

She looked down at her jeans and pink sleeveless shirt. I’m sorry I’m not dressed properly. I just got into town and didn’t have any place to change. I-I don’t have real looking-for-a-job clothes anyway. Are you the owner of this hotel? She cleared her throat.

No, but I can get him for you. The job in housekeeping, right?

Yes, sir.

He smiled. Jake Kincaid. He held out his right hand.

Um, Emi…ly. She looked at his hand then slowly put her hand in his. Emily Frost.

Her little hand was swallowed up by his big mitt. He gave her hand a warm friendly shake. Why don’t you have a seat right over there and I’ll get Mr. Asher on the phone. Do you have experience?

Cleaning? Oh yes sir, scads of it.

In a hotel?

No, houses. She swallowed. But I’m a fast learner and I’m real thorough.

He chuckled. Alright then. Let me call. He watched her cute little bottom as she darted to the wicker chairs in the reception area. She sat down, crossed her legs, uncrossed them, licked her lips, picked up a magazine, put it down again. She caught him watching her and quickly looked away.

He punched