She's Up to No Good(64)

I sat heavily at the table. “I don’t need to be with someone to be happy, Grandma.”

“Who said you did?” she asked, bringing a plate to me. “But you’re not happy now. And if you don’t try something different, you never will be.”

I opened my mouth to reply that I was happy, but nothing came out. If I was happy, I wouldn’t have pulled away the night before, because I wouldn’t have cared about the consequences. I would have acted on what I wanted.

Instead, I changed the subject.

“We’re going out to the island today. Do I wear a bathing suit or regular clothes?”

She squinted at me in concern. “Joe has the tides timed right?”

“He said he does.”

“I’m too old to steal a boat to come save you.”

“You—what?”

She waved her hand. “Another time.”

“So what do I wear?”

“Depends how brave you’re feeling.” I asked what she meant, but she was finished on that subject. “I mean it though: don’t get stuck. We have plans at four.”

“What plans?”

“You’re not very spontaneous,” she said, studying me. “You shouldn’t worry so much. It causes wrinkles. Just be home and dressed by then.”

Back upstairs, I looked at my wardrobe choices spread across the bed. My weather app said it would be hot in town, though it was always cooler by the beach. And if we did wind up walking back through any water, I didn’t want to be in pants.

Depends how brave you’re feeling.

I’m braver than she thinks, I thought, yanking off my clothes to put on a bathing suit. I studied my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. No. I wasn’t brave enough to wear JUST a bathing suit. Instead, I covered it with denim shorts and a T-shirt. Then, looking in the mirror again, I pulled off the shirt and switched it to a tank top. What was the point in wearing the brave outfit if it didn’t show?

Picking up my phone, I saw a text from Joe. Bring sneakers.

I recalled seeing a lot of green at the top of the island, and I frowned. More hiking. I had been excited for the beach day. Okay, I replied. Leaving now.

Perfect. See you soon. He included a smiley face with sunglasses.

“I’m heading down to the beach,” I called to my grandmother.

“I meant it,” she hollered back. “Don’t get stuck.”





Joe was waiting for me by the entrance to the beach across from the Inn. “Morning.”

“Hey.” I felt the littlest bit shy. There had been another moment at the driveway to the cottage the night before when we could have maybe kissed but didn’t. He seemed normal at least, though, which helped. “Does the Inn have coffee?” I asked, looking at a couple walking out with plastic cups.

He glanced at his watch. “Yeah. We have a few minutes. We’ll have to bring the trash back with us, but there should be room in the bag.” He had a strange-looking backpack over his shoulders—almost like it was made from wetsuit material.

“Waterproof?” I asked, gesturing toward it.

“Comes in handy, just in case.”

“My grandma thinks we’re going to get stuck.”

A smile played across his lips. “Apparently it was very dramatic when our moms got stranded.”

“Dramatic or traumatic? She actually looked worried.”

“Both maybe. It was before cell phones. Come on. Let’s grab coffee and get out there. The sandbar is going to show up any minute.”

Armed with iced coffees, we made our way to the almost-visible sandbar, and Joe told me to give him my shoes to cross the wet sand. He brushed them off and put them in a Ziploc bag, which he then placed into the backpack. I saw water bottles and sunscreen in there as well.

“No camera today?”

He shook his head. “The phone will have to do.”

“Are we swimming back or something?”

“No. Not if we go now.” He glanced at me. “You can swim, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, then.” He took a few steps into the shallow water and gestured for me to follow. A couple of minutes later, the water receded off a thin strip of sand, which soon widened into an area where we could walk side by side. I looked down, seeing at first a shallow, then increasingly deep drop-off next to the sandbar.

“This will hold us, right?” I asked, suddenly a little nervous.

He looked up at the tone of my voice. “It definitely will.”

We walked on. It was farther from the beach than it looked when the tide was in, maybe half a mile, and the island loomed much larger than it had seemed as we approached it.

“What’s the story with this island, anyway?”

“No real story. The coastline is dotted with them up here. Just kinda cool.”

“Then what was that secret smile last night?” It appeared again. “That one. If it’s just a natural formation, why are we out here?”

“Be patient.” He looked down. “And watch your step. It gets rocky as we get closer.” I narrowly avoided stepping on a sharp rock. He pointed toward an outcropping at the end of the sandbar. “We’ll sit there and put our shoes back on. Then we climb.”