Read Online Seven Tears into the Sea by Terri Farley - Free Book Online

never noticed a guy’s skin before. I actually thought about it as I set Nana’s table with fine silver.
    As I washed dishes after the guests had drifted away from breakfast, I replayed his brown eyes, which shifted expression from devoted, to playful, to predatory. Something about him wasn’t normal.
    I told Nana I’d work for her all day long to help her catch up on things she couldn’t do with her injured leg. The truth was, I was afraid to walk back to my cottage.
    Where was he? Who was he?
    Yes, it was broad daylight, but what if he was waiting for me? What if that had been his footprint on my porch?
    I wanted to ask Nana or Thelma if the leader of the Siena Bay pack was pathologically handsome. But I didn’t.
    Instead, I put my anxiety to good use. I washed windows for Nana and didn’t glance up when I did those on the seaward side of the Inn.
    My only break was when my parents called, having waited a record twenty-four hours to check on me. I told them Gumbo and I had made it through the night just fine.
    Of course I didn’t mention Gumbo’s hallucination at the window or the guy in the cove, so when I talked to Mom, she admitted they were going away for a week, camping in Colorado. They hung up happy as they could be without having me in sight.
    After that, I spent two hours on my knees in the sun, sanding weathered boards on the widow’s walk, because Nana swore that the rough footing hadcaused her to trip. I didn’t look toward the Point.
    By the time I finished, I was sweaty, dirty, and I’d worked the craziness out of my system. The guy I’d talked with wasn’t abnormal; he was foreign.
    Next time I saw him, I’d ask where he came from. And that would be that.
    It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t see him again.
    Cooled by lazy overhead fans, the inn was an oasis after my hours outside.
    â€œThese jeans will never be the same,” I apologized, as I met Nana in the kitchen. I’d borrowed a pair of her old jeans to do chores, and the knees had gone from white to cobwebs.
    â€œNor you either, by the look of you,” Thelma said.
    My eyes were still dazed by sun glare, but I noticed my arms were sunburned and my hands blistered. I’d pinned my hair into a knot, but most of it had fallen down.
    I was in no condition to serve tea, but it was nearly four o’clock.
    â€œThose jeans were destined for the rag bag anyway,” Nana said. “And you’ve just enough time for a quick bubble bath.”
    I’d opened my mouth to protest when she said, “I’ll draw it for you myself, and I promise you’ll find it quite restorative.”
    Since Nana believed in the power of herbs long before aromatherapy had been invented, I wasn’tsurprised that the collarbone-deep bath smelled tropical and lush.
    Her room was on the sea side of the house, so even in the little tiled bathroom, I could hear the waves.
    Limp with relaxation, I still managed to climb out, towel off, and find the dress Nana had laid out for me.
    It was one of those dresses that’s infinitely adjustable. Kind of counterculture looking, but cool. Made of crinkled ivory cotton, it had random sparkly stuff like confetti on the skirt, and the top left my arms bare. For once the muscles left from my days as a diver didn’t make me look manly, just fit.
    It nipped in at the waist and swirled around my knees.
    My wet hair could have used some work, but there wasn’t time. Looking in Nana’s mirror, I fluffed it with my fingers. Mom called the color “red amber.”
    Before it could fall into high-humidity waviness, I pinned it up.
    Knowing Nana wouldn’t care, I poked around in her makeup. I smoothed on Hushabye Blue eye shadow, a little mascara, and transparent lip gloss, and decided I looked all of seventeen.
    That guy—who knew my name even though I didn’t know his—had looked older. Maybe nineteen or twenty.
    I