Read Online The Man She Left Behind by Janice Carter - Free Book Online
Authors: Janice Carter
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takes to giving advice,” Sam protested, casting Leigh an expression both proud and amused.
“You’re always giving other people advice,” Jamie said. “Maybe you should follow some yourself.”
Leigh didn’t dare risk a glance at Sam now. This was dangerous ground Jamie was treading on. But Sam surprised her again.
He pushed his wineglass aside and sighed loudly. “You’re absolutely right, Jamie. I’ve had enough. Can’t get across those dunes when I’m under the influence, can I? Might end up in another kind of drink and it’d be a tad too salty for me.” He cackled boisterously at his joke.
Leigh put the unopened bottle on the table and sat down. “I’ve had enough myself,” she said. “Besides, I have to get up early in the morning to start working on this place. I’m having an open house in a few days.”
Sam sobered instantly. “Ah, my girl, I hate to see this place go the way so many have on this island. Soon there’ll be no originals left. They’ll all be summer people.” He spat the word out as if it had a nasty taste.
“What’s so bad about summer people?” Jamie asked. “At least they’d be different.”
“Different? Aye, they’re different all right, boy. And I’m not sayin’ that’s a bad thing. But when you’re only here for two months a year—or even a few weeks—you don’t appreciate it the way the locals do. You haven’t gone through the hard times together. The storms, the ferry breakin’ down an’ strandin’ you here for days at a time. Water runnin’ out and havin’ to borrow food or other things from people. There’s no bond with the summer folks. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
Leigh nodded agreement. “I remember the power going off one winter for days. We had to collect all the firewood we could find—and there’s not a lot of that on the island. I remember breaking through a layer of ice in the rain cistern, ’cause the desalinization plant’s generator wasn’t working for a while, either.”
Jamie looked from one to the other. “You both sound like...” he hesitated.
“Old-timers?” Leigh suggested.
The boy had the grace to flush. “Not exactly that. I don’t know—like pioneers or somethin’.”
Leigh grinned. “I think times were a lot rougher when Sam was growing up here, weren’t they, Sam?”
The old man nodded vigorously. “Dam right. Water was always the big problem. Sometimes it had to be trucked in—that was before the plant was built.” He gazed off into the backyard. “Leigh’s mother used to have quite a garden out there, but she worked hard at it. Fought those weeds and marram grass every day. Used water over and over again—from the cistern, the dishes, even the laundry. Huh!” he snorted. “Talk about recycling. People these days act like they invented it. We were a darn sight better at it than anyone today. We reused everythin’.”
His lecture finished, Sam leaned back in his chair. He looked tired, Leigh thought. “Sam, would you like some coffee?”
He shook his head. “No thanks. Can’t drink the stuff anymore. Bothers my stomach. Comes with old age, I guess. You have to give up all the things you loved so much in your youth.” He gazed fondly at Jamie. “Remember that, my boy. Enjoy the young years—but not too much.”
Leigh’s eyes met Jamie’s and they laughed together. “Yeah, right,” Jamie muttered. “Here comes the advice again.”
Leigh straightened in her chair. The boy certainly had a disconcerting habit of saying whatever came into his mind. She glanced at Sam, waiting for a sharp retort. But the old man continued to smile affectionately at his grandson. Leigh realized with some surprise that he actually liked the ribbing. He’d changed, she thought. The Sam Logan who’d raised Jen was a lot tougher than this Sam Logan.
“Have you taken Jamie out to Teach’s Hole yet, Sam? Shown him where Blackbeard lost his life?”
“Blackbeard? You mean that pirate? Was he
“You’re always giving other people advice,” Jamie said. “Maybe you should follow some yourself.”
Leigh didn’t dare risk a glance at Sam now. This was dangerous ground Jamie was treading on. But Sam surprised her again.
He pushed his wineglass aside and sighed loudly. “You’re absolutely right, Jamie. I’ve had enough. Can’t get across those dunes when I’m under the influence, can I? Might end up in another kind of drink and it’d be a tad too salty for me.” He cackled boisterously at his joke.
Leigh put the unopened bottle on the table and sat down. “I’ve had enough myself,” she said. “Besides, I have to get up early in the morning to start working on this place. I’m having an open house in a few days.”
Sam sobered instantly. “Ah, my girl, I hate to see this place go the way so many have on this island. Soon there’ll be no originals left. They’ll all be summer people.” He spat the word out as if it had a nasty taste.
“What’s so bad about summer people?” Jamie asked. “At least they’d be different.”
“Different? Aye, they’re different all right, boy. And I’m not sayin’ that’s a bad thing. But when you’re only here for two months a year—or even a few weeks—you don’t appreciate it the way the locals do. You haven’t gone through the hard times together. The storms, the ferry breakin’ down an’ strandin’ you here for days at a time. Water runnin’ out and havin’ to borrow food or other things from people. There’s no bond with the summer folks. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
Leigh nodded agreement. “I remember the power going off one winter for days. We had to collect all the firewood we could find—and there’s not a lot of that on the island. I remember breaking through a layer of ice in the rain cistern, ’cause the desalinization plant’s generator wasn’t working for a while, either.”
Jamie looked from one to the other. “You both sound like...” he hesitated.
“Old-timers?” Leigh suggested.
The boy had the grace to flush. “Not exactly that. I don’t know—like pioneers or somethin’.”
Leigh grinned. “I think times were a lot rougher when Sam was growing up here, weren’t they, Sam?”
The old man nodded vigorously. “Dam right. Water was always the big problem. Sometimes it had to be trucked in—that was before the plant was built.” He gazed off into the backyard. “Leigh’s mother used to have quite a garden out there, but she worked hard at it. Fought those weeds and marram grass every day. Used water over and over again—from the cistern, the dishes, even the laundry. Huh!” he snorted. “Talk about recycling. People these days act like they invented it. We were a darn sight better at it than anyone today. We reused everythin’.”
His lecture finished, Sam leaned back in his chair. He looked tired, Leigh thought. “Sam, would you like some coffee?”
He shook his head. “No thanks. Can’t drink the stuff anymore. Bothers my stomach. Comes with old age, I guess. You have to give up all the things you loved so much in your youth.” He gazed fondly at Jamie. “Remember that, my boy. Enjoy the young years—but not too much.”
Leigh’s eyes met Jamie’s and they laughed together. “Yeah, right,” Jamie muttered. “Here comes the advice again.”
Leigh straightened in her chair. The boy certainly had a disconcerting habit of saying whatever came into his mind. She glanced at Sam, waiting for a sharp retort. But the old man continued to smile affectionately at his grandson. Leigh realized with some surprise that he actually liked the ribbing. He’d changed, she thought. The Sam Logan who’d raised Jen was a lot tougher than this Sam Logan.
“Have you taken Jamie out to Teach’s Hole yet, Sam? Shown him where Blackbeard lost his life?”
“Blackbeard? You mean that pirate? Was he
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