Dark Beach - By Lauren Ash Page 0,22

if you need any help.”

“I think I can handle it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Thanks for the wonderful meal.”

As soon as she shut the door behind him, Jenny turned straight back to Molly. “Now, come on tell me.” She gestured toward the plaque on the wall. “The fisherman?” She was dying to know. “Let’s get comfortable,” she suggested, helping the elderly lady into the living room and maneuvering her toward the sofa. “Do you need anything? Tea? Coffee?”

“No, I’m fine. I just took a painkiller. Everything will be rosy in a jiffy. You know, I don’t think I have been up this late in years. I love it, but I’m feeling it.”

“I’m up late every night. Insomnia,” Jenny explained.

“Ah yes! I’ve had that occasionally over the years. It comes and goes, like the seasons. You must be in a bother about something.”

“Many somethings, actually—too many for me to think about. I just lie there with my eyes closed and random thoughts plague me until I pass out from exhaustion. By then I’ve usually tossed for hours.” She shrugged. “I’m used to it by now.”

“Can’t you take something?”

Jenny immediately rubbed her belly. “No, I can’t. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, congratulations, my dear.” Wrinkles spread across Molly’s face as she smiled.

“Thank you.” Jenny suddenly felt a rush of pleasure.

“It’s such a joyous time. I loved those days.” The old lady’s tone grew wistful. “Really, you must let me baby-sit Kip for you. I miss being around little ones. They say it keeps you young. Are you feeling well?” Mrs. Coggington peered down at Jenny’s stomach. “You’re still very thin.”

“I’m feeling better about it now that the nausea has passed. It’s a bit hard though, taking care of Kip sometimes, especially when I’m not feeling well.”

“Yes, that part is not so fun.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Leave Kip with me for a day,” Molly offered, patting Jenny’s hand. “Give you a chance to get out and explore the town and the beach a bit.” She went silent for a moment, as if thinking, and then glanced at Jenny from the crinkled corner of her eyes and said conspiratorially, “Now, you want to know about the fisherman? I’m not supposed to say.”

“You can tell me. That little plaque on the wall, the pictures up in the hex room of a man who’s not her husband—I know something is up. Who is he?”

“She has pictures?”

“Just one. A photo of a man on a commercial fishing boat—smiling away. But there are more of her on the same boat; it’s called the Retty.”

“The Retty.” Molly chuckled. “Gerry must have put that those up afterward. I can’t go all the way up there now, even if I wish I could. My hips are such a bother. Well, she never saw him in that way while her husband was alive, I can tell you. They did talk, though. She’d meet him every so often for lunch in secret, on his boat, but just as friends.”

Jenny frowned. “You sure?”

“Oh dear, yes. Gerry was very loyal. She would never have broken her vows in any way. But she loved her fisherman, nonetheless.”

“What was his name?”

“Barney.”

“Barney?”

“Yes. He was a character. I only met him a few times. Quite a lively fellow—the complete opposite of her husband, who was quiet like her. She told me one time that her husband seemed to have lost his passion once they sold the ranch. He came to the coast for Gerry—his sacrifice so they could stay together. He loved her more than anything in this world, make no mistake. Gerry was quite devastated when he passed, but there was also Barney. I have never loved two men at once, but I suppose it’s possible for some women.”

“Me neither.” Jenny’s thoughts immediately flew to Ron. “I’ve only ever loved Ron. He’s been there for me through it all—the good and the bad—and he accepts me the way I am.”

“He sounds like a catch.” Molly smiled. “I had a good one too. I loved Michael from the time I turned sixteen—still love him, to this very day. Been sixteen years now since he passed, but there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of him.” She took a rose embroidered handkerchief out of her pocket and twisted it in her hands. “I still visit his grave every week, though it just about kills me to walk that path. His ashes were scattered along the beach, so I go and see him there, too. I can’t help it. I feel close to him there.