The Bookstore Sisters(4)

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the ferryman said to her.

Perhaps she had. The girl looked exactly like Sophie had at her age, except while Sophie had been light and cheerful, the girl on the dock looked bitter and suspicious.

“You don’t remember me.” The ferryman sounded disappointed. He’d noticed her staring at the girl on the dock. “Maybe we’re all ghosts to you.”

The light was bright, forcing Isabel to shield her eyes in order to see him more clearly. Her newfound companion was tall with black hair, unshaven and in need of a haircut, with eyes so dark they burned through her. He was also quite familiar, although everyone on the island would likely be someone she once knew. Isabel was so practiced at forgetting, she couldn’t recall his name.

“We used to run away together,” he told her.

And there it was. Isabel remembered going off to hide in the marshes with him. No one will ever find us, she used to tell him. Good, he always answered. We don’t need anyone else.

“Johnny Lenox,” Isabel said.

They’d been at school together, and he’d been handsome and daring, always getting into trouble once he was a teenager. All the girls were mad for him, but he never seemed to settle down. He just followed Isabel around until she left. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you,” Isabel said.

“I can. I brought you up to your room on the night of Matt’s funeral.” When Isabel flushed with embarrassment, Johnny added, “Don’t worry, I was a gentleman. I could tell you didn’t know who the hell I was. Anyway, it was years ago.” He nodded to the girl with the sign on the dock. “It was before Violet was born.”

An older man was peering at them. “John, I need you. And not in five minutes when the lady’s gone.”

“My father,” Johnny said of the older man. “You don’t want to cross him even though I’m the one who’s supposedly in charge now.”

The old captain had been her enemy once upon a time, always catching her when she stowed away and reporting back to Isabel’s father. “Hey, Mr. Lenox,” Isabel called. “Remember me?”

The older Mr. Lenox didn’t seem to remember her, or maybe he did; either way he looked displeased. Isabel had always believed that people on the island resented anyone who wanted more.

“Get going, Miss,” Mr. Lenox called to her. “We’ve docked.”

“You always wanted to get out of here,” Johnny said. “You kept running away until you succeeded. I haven’t forgotten you one bit, Isabel.” He gave her a sidelong look. “But it appears you’ve forgotten me even after what transpired after Matt died.”

“What transpired?” Isabel asked, uncertain and feeling a fool.

“You fell in love with me,” Johnny said.

Isabel laughed out loud, then covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

“I’m not making it up. That’s what you told me.”

“If I did, you should know I’m well known to be a liar.”

“I knew you pretty well, and you were never a liar.” He nodded to the girl on the dock, who’d caught sight of Isabel and was now waving. As it turned out, Isabel was the last person to disembark. “Your niece seems to be waiting for you, but it looks like you don’t notice that sort of thing.”

The older Mr. Lenox called out to ask what the hell Johnny thought he was doing when they were due back across the bay in half an hour.

“He still thinks he’s the captain,” Johnny said as he turned from Isabel. “Just like you still think you’ll be happier if you run away.”



Passengers leaving the island had already begun to board when Isabel made her way off the ferry.

“Violet?” Isabel said when she reached the dock. Staring at the girl was like seeing her sister in black-and-white, unlike Sophie who had always been so bright. Sunlight, their father used to call her. Then what am I? Isabel had once said, wounded by how he seemed to favor Sophie. Oh, you’re moonlight, he’d said. Harder to see, but there for those who look.

“It took you long enough,” Violet said. “You’re the last person off.”

Violet was eleven, but she seemed older, just as Sophie always had. When their mother became ill, Sophie took over the house. She made their dinners, washed up, hung the laundry out on the line. Sometimes Isabel noticed that her sister was crying at the sink, and instead of standing beside her and drying the dishes, Isabel would run out and head for the marshes. She would watch the seagulls and the herons and wish she could fly away.

Hank bounded over, pulling his leash free from Isabel’s hands, delighted to be free on an island that smelled of the sea. When he leaped to lick Violet’s face, the dog was almost as tall as she. Her bleak expression vanished, and she began to laugh, but soon enough she turned to Isabel and brutally assessed her. “You don’t look anything like my mother.”

“You do,” Isabel said.

“I’m nothing like her,” Violet said. “But you wouldn’t know since you don’t know the first thing about me. I found your address on an old envelope in my mother’s night table drawer. I didn’t know if you’d really come, but now that you’re here, maybe you can help for once in your life. Just don’t expect me to like you.”