Chapter 5 Curiouser

As every mother of curious little boys knows, he was prone to asking a ton of questions, and therefore, had strict instructions not to pester the guests. Especially until Tulla got a good look at them. Well, a good listen anyway. She tried to instill a sense of security in their lives, but her nerves were raw. She was always dreading the day she'd hear that voice again. The one belonging to the man who wanted her son.

She shivered and looked at her towheaded boy with that panic still gripping her heart. It took her a moment, but she willed herself to breathe. Danny knew nothing about his father or the man who terrorized her dreams. She never told him. How could she? It was impossible. Tulla wanted to keep him safe and innocent of whatever madness Tom had been a part of.

"Mama, can you see it?" Danny pointed and almost lost his grip on the railing. Tulla reached out and steadied him.

"Look, it's coming closer!" She smelled his soft hair and the fading scent of the baby shampoo he used.

Her son was caught between that inevitable transition from baby to boy. She held him a little too tight and he squirmed to get free, caught up in the excitement of a new guest.

Tulla wasn't focused on their new arrival. She was lost in thoughts of her son. She wanted to pick him up, to hold him close to her heart, like she did when he was just a baby. Not in public though. He would be highly offended if she didn't take into consideration his manliness when they were out and about. The little devil!

"My dog is on that boat!"

"Hush, silly, he's a guest not a dog!"

"Right there! Right there!" She nodded as he pointed out to sea at the small image of the water taxi coming into view.

It was so far away it looked more like a toy bobbing up and down in the unusually rough waters. She inhaled the salty air and steadied herself, trying to relax into her usual guarded, but friendly professional face. The boat would be carrying her guest for the next four weeks.

A Mr. Randall Graves, if her memory served. He was coming alone and staying at The Sea Mist for what his colleague had said was an overdue break from work. The man who phoned her and made the initial reservation was quite insistent on giving her details of Mr. Graves' poor overworked sense of duty and dedication to his job.

The man hadn't had a vacation in years! His co-worker, a Mr. Lowell, described the poor old man as married to his desk. No family, no children, no one to care for him! That only made Tulla more sympathetic to his lonely plight.

She was so moved by the thought of him all alone that she put on a pot roast complete with mashed potatoes and glazed carrots. She even baked two dozen double chocolate chip cookies with walnuts just for her guest. The man probably hadn't had a home-cooked meal in ages! She felt a certain responsibility to her new guest and wanted to make sure he was pampered a little for all his arduous work.

Poor old thing, she thought. She had instructions to give him his space, which she would naturally. Except for doing his laundry and preparing his meals, of which he preferred substantial portions of organic meat, fowl, or fish with every meal, he required no other services. No guided tours, golfing, or chauffeuring. Except for today of course.

There was one other thing she was asked to do for her guest. She was to tell Mr. Graves the internet connection was down for the duration of his visit. Normally, Tulla did not like to lie, but she was told it was a matter of significant importance to the man's health. She had struggled for a moment or two before acquiescing. To be honest, she still wasn't sure she could pull it off.

She worried it over and over in her mind until inspiration struck! She knew she could never lie with a straight face, so she disconnected the modem and "accidentally" dropped it in the kitchen sink when it was full of soapy warm water.

The thing would need to be replaced, but to do that she'd have to go to the mainland or head on down to the library and use their computer to order one for herself. So, technically, the internet was down. She worried her lower lip as she imagined the conversation between her, and her guest should he ask for her WI-FI password.

Oh Lord, forgive me for fibbing, she thought as she rubbed her hands together. She hoped Mr. Graves found The Sea Mist relaxing and distracting enough to forget about work. He would certainly owe his colleagues for thinking so highly of him to arrange for his comfort up to the finest detail.

She wondered at the large cardboard box that arrived for her guest early that morning. It was huge, but surprisingly light. She had placed it on the chest at the foot of the bed in the room she picked out for him. Magazines and stuff like that.

"What's he look like, Mama?"

"We're lookin' for a businessman type, older I should think, my sweet Danny. I was told he needed a break from work, poor thing."

"I bet he's a million feet tall, with long hair, and he likes to play frisbee on the beach, and he can play guitar too, Mama!"

"Now, Danny, you know you aren't supposed to bother the guests. And no, I don't think so, I believe Mr. Graves is more the indoor type. A computer programmer. You know, a stuffed shirt!" She whispered into Danny's ear and tickled him till he gasped for breath.

"No way, Mama! You are so wrong!"

"Nuh-uh, your mama is never wrong! I bet he is bald with a big round potbelly and his skin is as pale and white as a sheet of paper!"

"No way! Hey look, I think that's him! Maybe they do stuff his shirt?" Daniel tilted his head to the side as if trying to measure the figure staring at them from the deck of the water ferry.

Tulla turned and looked to where the ferry was now docked. A couple of men set the metal plank in place and connected it to the side of the boat. A moment later she noticed a man carrying an oversized army duffle and a sleek black backpack.

If only this was her guest, she thought to herself and bit her lower lip. His long hair was pulled back high on his head in an elastic band, a long beard hung down to an impossibly broad chest that narrowed to a slightly tapered waist. He was tall, well over six-foot and the muscles in his arms and legs spoke of an outdoorsy type of guy. Too bad, she thought to herself, but this here is no rusty, old programmer.

The stranger took off his black wraparound sunglasses and if Tulla was interested before, she was positively speechless now. They were a color she had never seen on a man. One moment they were dark as roasted coffee beans, the next they were a light, shimmery brown, kind of like caramel sauce.

Molten, whiskey-colored pools in the sunlight inviting her to dive in and lose herself. Her heart thudded in her chest, Tulla could drown in those eyes. He didn't blink, didn't move at all. Just stood and stared at her. It was like being caught in the eye of a predator, one from whom she wasn't necessarily certain she wanted to escape. She managed to break eye contact and looked over the boat again, waiting for her guest for the next month, but there was no one else onboard.

If this was Randall Graves, she was in trouble.