Fisher's Light(7)

When Trip announced to the town that Fisher was coming home, the calm, cordial meeting that was supposed to be about zoning permits turned into complete anarchy. I got up and walked out without a word, and for two weeks, I tried not to think about today. I tried to keep myself busy at the inn and with the social life I was finally attempting to have. I refused to look at the indentation on the third finger of my left hand where a wedding ring used to wrap and sparkle against the morning rays of sun when I stretched in bed. I politely smiled when people in town stopped and asked me what I was going to do when he came back to the island. I went about my business, refusing to allow myself to fall down that stupid rabbit hole of sadness and depression.

I might not have been born here, but this is my island. I’ve made a name for myself, I have friends and family here and I’ve built a life here, such as it is. I’ve cleaned up the mess he left behind and I’ve moved on. As strong as I’d like to believe I’ve become, though, even I can admit it’s not a good sign that the very thought of running into him sends chills running throughout my body. This isn’t a huge island and, unfortunately, I have to shop at several of the businesses his family owns. It’s only a matter of time before I have to see him again, and I hope that I’m strong enough not to allow his presence to ruin me once more. I won’t let Fisher crack the walls I’ve spent so long and worked so hard at reconstructing. I don’t know why he’s coming back and I don’t care. I have my own life now that has nothing to do with Jefferson Fisher, just like he wanted.

Pushing through the door connecting the living quarters to the inn, I stop short when I see the ass-end of a man on all fours, smacking his hammer against my floor right in front of the registration desk.

“Enjoying the view, pretty lady?”

Trip stops hammering and grins at me over his shoulder.

I shake my head and laugh as I walk into the room, holding out my hand to help him up from the floor, but he bats it away and grumbles at me.

“I’m not that f*cking old. The day I need help getting up from the ground…” he trails off as he grunts and groans while he pushes himself to his feet. Just like his grandson, Trip Fisher stands well over six-feet. Between his full head of salt and pepper hair and the body he keeps in shape walking all over the island and performing manual labor, I’d know even without seeing old pictures that he was a very good looking man in his day.

“Why are you beating up my floor, Trip?” I ask as I lean forward and peck his cheek with a kiss.

“That board has been loose for weeks. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen when one of those yuppies comes in here and stumbles over it,” he explains, shoving his hammer into his tool belt. “How you holding up, Lucy Girl?”

We haven’t talked at all about the bombshell he dropped during the town meeting, even though he’s tried countless times. I know he’s worried about how I’m feeling about Fisher’s return, but I still don’t want to talk about it, especially with him. I love him like he’s my own grandfather, but he was always our biggest supporter and was almost as heartbroken as I was after our marriage fell apart. No matter what I say, Trip will turn it around and try to play matchmaker.

“I’m fine, Trip. Just worried about all the crap around here that keeps falling apart. I’ve got fifteen new vacationers coming in this afternoon and I’d like them to be able to use their sinks.”

His brown eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. “Fine, my ass. When was the last time you ate? Get out of here and go up to the Lobster Bucket and tell Carl to make you a lobster roll. Scratch that, make it two and put it on my tab. Don’t come back until your belly is full. I’ll have your sinks working by then and I’ll keep an eye out if anyone stops by.”

I start to argue, thinking about the laundry that isn’t going to wash itself, but quickly realize there’s no sense in going to battle with Trip Fisher. It’s not like I can do the laundry with a busted machine that won’t drain, anyway. It’s not very often that I get a chance to get away from the inn and take some time for myself, so I grab the offer and run with it. With another kiss to Trip’s cheek, I grab my purse from behind the counter and make a quick call to my best friend, Ellie. I need to forget about the man who forced me out of our home and his life over a year ago and concentrate on my date tonight. I’m fine, I’m happy and I’ve moved on. Ellie will help me keep my mind off of the past and focus my future. Or, she’ll just get me drunk. Either way, I refuse to spend the rest of the day worrying about running into Fisher.