The Fisherman and the Soprano: Unlikely Love, #2

By Irene Onorato

Maine lobsterman Shawn MacKay is enraptured by a redheaded mystery woman who sings opera on a deserted stretch of beach by the cliffs of Avondale. Every time he gets close enough to say hello, she runs away. His narrative of the beautiful songbird earns lighthearted banter from patrons of the Malarkey, a local tavern and gathering place for those in his trade. Shawn hopes that one day he will finally meet the young woman who has piqued his curiosity.

 

Colleen O'Malley's lifelong desire has always been to sing opera. When two pre-teen boys tell her about a cave with great acoustics hidden at the base of the cliffs along the beach strand, she enters alone, oblivious to the dangers of rising tides that could trap and kill her.

 

When Shawn decides to walk home by way of the beach strand one evening, he has no idea that his decision will change his life. Forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Irene Onorato
• Release date: May 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9798224356973

Irene Onorato

Irene Onorato was born and raised in Bronx, New York. Her father, a first-generation American whose parents were born in Italy, was an Army veteran who had served with the 178th combat engineers during WWII. He told numerous stories of battles, hardships, tragedies and triumphs. The glimpses he gave into the hearts of many American warriors would later become the inspiration for much of Irene’s writings.   In 1972, a few months after graduating high school, Irene met James Onorato, a soldier who had just returned from Vietnam. After dating two weeks, they married, raised three children, and are still happily married today.   Irene and James, both radiation protection technicians, retired from the nuclear power industry in 2014 and now reside in Louisiana. Readers can visit Irene’s website at ireneonorato.com, and find her on Facebook.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

G ood job, guys. Shawn Mackay paid Jake and Keith, his lobster boat sternmen, and pocketed the rest of the money for the day’s catch. Tomorrow it would start all over again. Four-thirty a.m., row out to the Lorena Mac’s mooring, bring her to the bait and fuel dock, then navigate out to the traps while his crew prepped bait bags, goofed off a bit, and got ready for the haul.

Jake slapped Shawn’s back as they walked down the wharf toward the parking area, pubs, and shops that lined Waterfront Street. Hey boss, how’s about we go over to Malarkey’s, have a pint, and see if we can rouse up a friendly competition of darts?

How is it, after so many years of being best buds, you still think I’d like to have a nasty ol’ beer. What’s wrong with you? Shawn shook his head and laughed.

Fine. A root beer for you, a brewski for me.

I don’t know if I want to go. Remember what happened last time we were in there? He could still hear the loud guffaws of raucous laughter at his expense ringing in his ears.

Come on. It was lighthearted ridicule, and you know it.

True. There was no malice behind any of it, but still. He should have known a pub full of fishermen in various stages of drunkenness would have a heyday with the story he’d told. No one believed he’d had several sightings of a pretty redhead singing opera on the beach just north of Capstone Point. And he admitted, it did seem a little farfetched.

Keith lit a cigarette and eyed Shawn through a curl of smoke. Ridicule about what? You being a lousy dart player?

It had nothing to do with darts. And he didn’t feel like rehashing it now. I’ll let Jake tell you the story. I’m going home. See you tomorrow.

Keith blew several smoke rings. Need a ride?

Nah, but thanks. I’m going to walk the beach strand. Living several blocks from the harbor had its perks. Except for the foulest weather, he walked back and forth to the wharf.

Hey, Shawn, Jake called as he walked away. You better hurry, then. The tide’s coming in fast. Ain’t going to be long and there won’t be much beach to walk on.

Waves crashed ashore in angry increments. Like wild beasts, they raked claw marks into the wet sand, forming rivulets that flowed back to the sea.

There’d be no sightings of the redheaded songbird today. Not with the wind kicking up and the ocean drowning out everything but a man’s internal thoughts. Pity. Her apparition-like appearances, so soft and feminine, were a pleasure to behold. The perfect ending to a hard day’s work.

Shawn walked the shrinking beach strand. Ahead, water had already risen over the easterly rocks at the point. No problem. He knew the way up and over the tangle of boulders and could do it with his eyes closed.

With a leap, he landed on the first rock, hoisted himself onto the next, and stood at the edge of a narrow gap. Below, the sea had already found its way through the maze, rising and falling like a breathing entity.

A giant step forward brought him across the divide. Moving onward, nothing presented too much of a challenge. Another gap, another mini-river below. He jumped to the other side and paused before starting the downward climb.

Wait. What?

Shawn looked up and down the beach. Not a soul in sight. Was the wind teasing him, or did he hear singing? Or was it wishful thinking? He froze and listened hard. Turning, he faced the bluff. The mystery singer’s voice hit a sustained high note, then fell softy and was swallowed by the sound of the surf.

Oh, no. Shawn’s pulse raced. If she was in the amphitheater—the semicircular cave-like formation carved into the bluff he and his friends were forbidden to enter when he was a kid—she was in trouble and was probably oblivious to the danger she was in.

Quickly, Shawn descended into a crevice in the rocks and into knee-deep water. All passageways led to the amphitheater, and once the tide rose over a rock that served as a huge hump in the path, the cavern would fill quickly. He had no time to lose.

Hey, can you hear me? He shouted as he squeezed between two flat walls. A pulse of water pushed from behind, rising to the seat of his pants.

The water was funneling in fast. Too fast.

CHAPTER 2

Hurrying, Shawn reached the hump and climbed over. Hey!

The girl gasped and spun around. Curls of red hair twirled and settled over one shoulder. She took a step back from his approach. Who are you, and what do you want?

You’ve got to get out of here. It’s dangerous, he screamed as the water roared behind him.

But, I⁠—

The tide’s coming in, and if you don’t leave now you’ll be trapped.

The first push of seawater topped the rock and spilled into the expanse.

The girl’s eyes grew wide. Oh, no. She looked up as if searching for a way out. Daylight poured in, but smooth rock walls provided no toe or handholds to aid in a climb.

Now wasn’t the time for introductions, explanations, or niceties. Shawn lunged forward and grabbed her hand. Let’s go.

A second mound of water rushed in and swirled around their ankles.

The girl screamed and tried to back away, and a look of sheer terror filled her eyes.

Shawn tightened his grip. You want to live?

She answered with a series of shallow but rapid nods and her mouth formed a silent Yes.

Then hang on and prepare to get wet. Whatever you do, don’t let go of me.

All right.

Shawn climbed the exit rock, landed in three feet of water, and helped the girl over. The frigid brine caused her to wince. Summer didn’t matter much to the North Atlantic. Not with the Labrador current sweeping its way along the coast all the way south to Cape Cod.

A swell rose to Shawn’s chest.

The redhead held fast to his hand and now also clutched his arm.

He didn’t look back. It was enough to hear her nervous whimpers and frightened gasps every time the tide tried to push them backward.

Finally, he was through the narrow passage. Waves hit a curve of rocks and doused his face. Behind him, the girl gagged. No doubt she didn’t see it coming either.

Feeling ahead with his feet, Shawn found the rock he was searching for and stepped onto it. He pulled her up, pinned her to the wall, and braced for the next wave.

Her arms flew around his waist and squeezed with a death grip.

Wedging his hand in a crack, Shawn held tight. Getting sucked out to sea was a possibility he didn’t want to even think about.

After the next one hits, turn around. I’ll help push you up and onto this boulder.

Okay. With a series of rapid nods, she inhaled and held her breath.

Whoosh.

Go!

The girl turned.

Shawn hoisted her by the waist, then gave her backside a shove.

Good. She was safely out of the water.

The next onslaught came in fast and furious. Shawn held tightly, then climbed out of the crevice between swells.

Come on. We’ve got to get over to the north side of the point and make our way onto the bluff. He reached for her hand.

Trembling, her lips turning blue, she didn’t resist.

Shawn led her from rock to rock, then helped her down and onto the sliver of remaining beach. You okay? Besides freezing your tail off, that is.

Y-yes.

We could climb out of here, but it’d be easier if we reach the steps by Dabney street. It’s not far.

I know. I ca-came down that way. An uncontrolled shiver wracked her body.

Okay, let’s go then. He could relate to her discomfort. Salt and sand grated his skin, and he hadn’t been this cold since winter, even though the ambient air temperature had to be in the low to mid-seventies. Still, he fought his body’s natural response to break into trembles and trudged on.

At the base of the steps, he motioned her forward. You first. In case she got tired or weak, he’d at least have her in his sights to offer help.

Halfway up, she stopped and clutched the old wooden rail.

Shawn hurried to her side. What’s wrong? As if he didn’t know. She’d been moving stiffly as if every step took great effort.

Taking a breather’s all.

If he hadn’t been soaking wet himself, he’d have offered a hug to transfer some of his own body heat. But he doubted he had any warmth to give. Take your time.

She breathed deeply. Okay, I’m ready to go again.

They ascended to the top and stepped onto the bluff.

See the black pickup? Third house down the street. Shawn pointed. That’s my place. Let’s get you warmed up.

I… I should go home. There’s my bicycle. I’ll just⁠—

Leave the bike. I’ll come back later, throw it in my truck, and drive you home. With a hand on the small of her back, he guided her to his house.

Ever’thing all right, Shawny boy? His elderly neighbor set an empty laundry basket on the ground near sheets that fluttered on the clothesline between their houses. Why, yer soaked to the bone. Fall out of yer boat, did ya?

No, Mrs. McGillicuddy. We didn’t fall out of the boat. A wicked-fast tide gave us a little surprise on the beach. No worries.

Anythin’ I can do fer ya?

We’re good, thanks.

Once inside, he grabbed a throw blanket off the couch and wrapped it around his new guest. I’ll put on some coffee. Get your insides warmed.

Shawn hurried around the kitchen and put on a pot. He dashed into his bedroom, changed into dry clothes, and grabbed a zip-up hooded sweatshirt.

His guest stood exactly where he’d left her, the blanket pulled tightly around her body. Here, slip this on. It’s one of my favorites to take out on the boat on chilly days.

Thank you. She put on the hoodie and finally looked at him face-to-face. Light green eyes stared into his. She was as lovely close up as she was afar.

Sit and make yourself comfortable.

I’m still quite soaked and wouldn’t want to get your furniture wet.

Shawn swatted the idea away. Nothing can hurt that old couch. Don’t give it a second thought. He waited until she sat on the edge of a cushion, then sank into a chair across from her. I’m Shawn MacKay, and you are?

Colleen O’Malley.

Shawn smiled. Just as he suspected. The lovely lass was Irish to the core.

CHAPTER 3

T hank you. The ceramic mug Shawn handed Colleen warmed her palms as she took a careful sip of hot coffee.

Apprehension about entering a strange man’s house had melted when the next-door-neighbor endearingly called him Shawny boy. I’m sorry to have put you through so much trouble.

I’m glad I came along when I did. Another ten minutes and you might not have been able to fight the tide and get out of there by yourself.

Her heart raced at the truth of Shawn’s words and the seriousness of his expression. A shiver chilled her and sloshed the hot liquid in the cup. Her eyes watered. I… I had no idea I’d put myself in such a dangerous situation.

You’re not from around here, are you?

No. I’ve spent two weeks here every summer since I was little, but I’m from upstate New York.

Shawn gave a slow nod. Figured you weren’t native to the coast. Locals are mindful of the tides, and reading them is second nature to us. Most everyone knows not to venture into the amphitheater except for a quick peek at dead low.

Dead low? She needed no explanation for him calling the carved rock formation an amphitheater.

The tide, at its lowest point. How’d you find the cave? Did you stumble upon it while exploring the beach, or did someone show you?

Two boys. Twins, around twelve years old, I’d say. I couldn’t tell one from the other except by their clothes. They heard me singing on the shore and said they knew a place that had great acoustics. I was surprised they knew the word.

Instead of returning her smile, Shawn’s face tightened into a scowl. Let me guess. Dark hair, blue eyes, and one wore an orange shirt?

Why, yes. But how would you know that?

The Ferguson twins. Jared and Jeremy. Jeremy always wears something orange. It’s his thing. When did they show you the cave?

Today. Maybe an hour before you showed up.

Shawn rose from the chair across from her, huffed an angry breath, and took a few steps away. Stupid kids. I’ll make sure their parents know about this.

Colleen took another drink of coffee then set the cup aside. Please don’t. I wouldn’t want to get them in⁠—

In trouble? Shawn pivoted toward her. Their carelessness nearly got you killed. I know those boys well. Their father’s a lobsterman like me. Once upon a time, their mother captained a shrimping boat. The twins cut their teeth on the gunwales and transoms of sea vessels. They would have known the tide was on the in, and⁠—

On the in? She hoped she didn’t come off as a dunce with her sparse knowledge of the sea.

That the tide was coming in. Shawn raked his fingers heavily through his hair. He stared at her for a long moment then finally displayed a small smile. On the other hand, they probably saw you as a pretty girl with a beautiful voice and wanted you to experience the amphitheater. When I was a kid, my friends and I got a big kick out of going in there, hollering stupid stuff, entertaining each other with comedy skits, and singing in Italian or French.

Colleen relaxed for the first time since entering Shawn’s house. "Aah. You speak Italian and French?"

Nah. We made it up as we went along. Shawn laughed, then turned serious. I’ve heard you singing on the beach before. But you always ran away. Why? Were you afraid? Think I’d hurt you?

She had seen Shawn several times, always at a distance. Why she ran away was a bit of mystery. It wasn’t as if she thought he’d try something nefarious right there on the sand. Anyone on the bluffs could’ve looked down and reported it.

Colleen sighed, then shrugged. I don’t know. Maybe I was embarrassed to be singing into the wind.

But you sing so well. Shawn sank back into his chair. I couldn’t make out every word, but your voice is beautiful. Mesmerizing, actually. I always wanted to hear more.

I’m sorry I ran away. Maybe it’s my New York upbringing. Always bracing for the worst. Not trusting people. She gave a nervous laugh.

Well, now you know I’m definitely not trying to do you dirty. I only wanted to get close enough to hear and enjoy your songs.

I’ll remember that. She smiled. "Go ahead and laugh if you will, but I’m auditioning for a new show they’re putting together over in Hamilton. They’re calling it A Taste of Opera and it’ll feature bits and pieces from several famous operatic productions. That’s why I’ve been practicing so hard."

Why would I laugh?

What was it she saw in Shawn’s face? Encouragement, believability, or something else? To land the position would be a big break. A springboard onto bigger, better, loftier projects. To be known and recognized as a challenging force in the singing industry would be a dream come true. The thought took her breath away.

I’m wondering, Shawn said, as he finished the last drop in his cup. If you live in New York, why would you apply for a job not fifteen miles from here in Avondale? It’s not like coastal Maine and upstate New York are a commutable distance from one another.

The question made perfect sense and would take some explaining.

"My Aunt Birdie, the relative I stayed with during those summers I told you about, recently had a mild heart attack. Naturally, I came