The Way Read online

  Logan. That beautiful face belonged to Logan. The Logan, from last night’s fire? Beth’s mind raced to recall the letters that had emerged from the embers.

  Beth thanked Jerome and made her way out to the street. She looked up and down both sides; no sign of Logan.

  She wandered along past a few more shops, gazing in to see if he had entered any of them. She spotted a figure in the reflection of a shop window and turned to find the Mercedes driver, standing right in front of her path.

  “Hey.” His tone was measured and cool. He was an intimidating presence, tall with very broad shoulders, and seemed to take up over half the sidewalk.

  Beth gave an awkward half smile and moved onto the street side to edge past him. She had not enjoyed the car stunt with all that dust blowing up in her face. Beth had learnt a bit of British slang at school and “Tosser!” was the first word that popped into her mind. It seemed to best sum up types like that.

  “Daybian, Daybian, we got a table at M-Jays,” the blonde girl was calling out from a café across the street.

  “See you round.” He strode across the street to his waiting posse.

  Beth kept walking to the end of the road, looking in each store, but to no avail. She was just about to give up when she spotted Logan sitting on the backrest of a park bench in a small, public garden area. She stopped in a nearby doorway and peered around. He held a small gold tin whistle, obviously his new purchase. He lifted it up to his mouth and played a lively and lyrical piece. His fingers moved so deftly and the sounds produced were clear as crystal. The street noise seemed to stop and all Beth could hear was the piquant sound. He finished that tune and then started on a much slower, more haunting piece. The notes sat in the air as though to provide thinking time around them.

  A quiet male voice with the slightest Irish lilt came from behind and broke her concentration, “Is this a hobby of yours, hanging in doorways and stalking strangers?”

  Beth turned around to face a thin boy about her height and age with straight, dark, hair cut in chunky layers. A side fringe, angled down to his eyebrows revealing pale coffee-colored eyes. He was dressed in black and white striped pants and a black tee-shirt.

  Beth felt taken aback on two counts, one, being caught in the act, just as accused, and two, the bold manner of approach this boy had.

  “I wasn’t stalking. I was just listening to the tune. What’s your form sneaking up behind strangers anyway?”

  “You’re Beth, aren’t you? Beth Harlow?”

  “I might be…depends who’s asking? Who are you anyway?”

  “I’m Toby, aka Tobias P.M. FitzGerald, The P.M stands for Patrick Michael. However, I prefer ‘Purveyor of Mayhem’ here in the Scit. My uncle Lionel met you at Maggie’s last night and told me to keep an eye out for you. He described you to the letter…Huge. Hairy. Beastlike… just kidding!”

  “Nice to meet you…I guess.” Beth was a little unsure of how to take his forthright, loquacious, manner—although he seemed friendly enough.

  “How’s it working out with the Big M? She is a well-known character around town – ‘mad as a hatter’ some will tell you. Dabbles in cards, fortune telling and the like. Some locals don’t know how to handle her, but I dig her. Always has a smile, no matter what the weather. Believe you me, we get some extremes of weather here. How are you liking it so far? Where are you from? I can’t pick your accent.”

  “Sorry, can you slow down a bit with the questions? I’m having trouble keeping up. Firstly, Maggie and I are working things out as well as two strangers can. She’s very welcoming in her own way. Yes, I like Scituate very much – it’s truly picture postcard gorgeous and where am I from? Well, a long, long, long way from here. I grew up mainly in India and Asia. The past four years I have been in Beijing at an International school, so I speak with a more British tone I guess.”

  “Well, Miss International, it’s a cool accent. Anyhow, it looks like your free concert’s over. Would you like some company on your way back to the light?” Toby looked across and the park bench where Logan had been perched was now empty.

  “Actually, that’d be great. I need to take note of directions as I was totally distracted by pretty much everything on my way into town,” Beth replied.

  ‘Don’t you have a cell to googs-map your way home?’ Toby asked.

  ‘Googs-what?’ This boy was proving incredibly difficult to understand. He pointed to his phone. “Phone…right…well—no. my sim card’s not compatible here. I’ll have to get that sorted I suppose, I didn’t rely on my phone much in China. People here seem to have their heads buried in them all the time.”

  The wind had turned a little cooler and Beth decided to put her hoodie on.

  “Yeah, they’re kinda like a lifeline to a lotta peeps. Anyways, we can take the beach walk if you like.” He gestured towards a path near the harbor.

  “I’d love that. This is my first time near the ocean and I can’t believe how incredible it is. The cities I grew up in were all inland and the nearest things I had to an ocean were lakes which, although beautiful, are nowhere near as impressive.”

  “Yep. Bit bigger than any lake, our Atlantic.” Toby looked out to the harbor. “A lot of those boats are working vessels, mostly for fishing tuna, cod, shark and lobster. Used to be a big mossing fleet but it shut down a couple of decades ago. Mossing was a huge part of the economy here; my grandpa worked it – was a shame it was made redundant by ‘big pharma’.”

  “Big pharma? – is that a company?”

  “Nah, it’s slang for the pharmaceutical companies that make chemical compounds to replace stuff found in nature. Sea moss has such a plethora of health properties. According to Grandpa, it’s one of nature’s many miracles. The economy here took a belt with the loss of mossing, still…lucky there’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

  “How long have you lived here, Toby?”

  “I arrived from Dublin when I was seven, so ten years now. We Fitzgeralds go back generations, both in Ireland and here; Grandpa came over well before we did. Many families from back home did, it’s known as the ‘Irish Riviera.’”

  “I gathered that from all the flags and names on the houses. Must be nice to know exactly where you come from.” Beth sighed.

  “Yes and no, unlike you who hail from exotic places, little ol’ me only knew the streets of Dublin, and I’m yet to get out of Massachusetts. Looks like we’re almost back to your home base.”

  Aristotle came racing and barking up to the gate, his big tail wagging so hard that his whole back-end seemed to sway with it.

  “Ha! Killer guard dog this boy is. He does a great job keeping the tourists off Maggie’s land. The freakin’ size of him is enough to stop ‘em coming past the ‘Private Property’ sign. He scares the shite outta most peeps. Such a rad dog, he sure knows who to menace.”

  “Thanks so much for walking back with me and giving me the lowdown. Do you live on Cedar Point or are you further into town?”

  “I’m just up a way further, out Beaver Dam Road. Anyway, I’ll get going now and I’ll catch you later.”

  “Okay thanks so much. See you soon.” Beth fumbled with the key in the lock then opened the door. Aristotle came inside on her heels and she closed the door behind them.

  Maggie wasn’t home yet, so Beth made her way through to the shop area to look at the books she had noticed on her arrival, intrigued by the higher of the two shelves, with many of the books covered in dark green velvet, with strange, gilt-embedded font. One enormous tome stood out, looking particularly faded and dog-eared. Beth reached up for it and choked a bit on the dust that filled the air as she removed it. She blew the remaining dust off and settled into a cozy armchair.

  Maple leapt up on her lap and began kneading with his claws into Beth’s legs, then curled himself into a comfortable ball.

  Beth opened the first page. There was an exquisitely detailed hand-drawn map on the first few pages, showing a ragged coastline, rivers and a mountain range. The plac
e names were beautifully written with what looked like a feather quill, dipped in ink. The characters for each letter looked like individual artworks. Beth had studied several languages during her schooling and could see some influences that looked vaguely Thai and Indian but she could not decipher one word. There were strange lines and accents on some letters.

  She leafed through the pages and found some incredible illustrations. She came to a double page spread in the middle, depicting a large group of people and creatures in a woodland setting. The picture seemed to portray a party or festival. There were many people with instruments that looked similar to Logan’s tin whistle. There were harps of various sizes and something like a guitar or mandolin. Tables shown in the background were laden with a bounty of delicious-looking fare.

  Beth turned her attention to the faces of the people in the drawing. They were dressed in flowing gossamer robes in pastel colors. She studied each beautiful face and came to a group of girls dancing in a circle. She looked at one of the faces and felt her heart thud.

  Apart from the fact that the girl had waist length, dark chestnut hair, she was looking at an absolute mirror image of herself.

  She snapped shut the heavy book and calmed herself down. Maple opened one eye and peered sleepily up at her, annoyed by the sudden move. Her curiosity won over and she decided to re-open the book in the center and take another look, feeling magnetically drawn to the imagery.

  The book opened to the center pages with a force of its own. Beth looked for the group of dancing girls and her doppelganger and found that the group of dancers had disappeared. In fact, all of the scenes that she had studied so intently had changed. The musicians had moved on and in their place was a group of Native Americans, male and female, with glowing bronze skin. Majestic headpieces and animal skin clothing adorned them. Some sat in a circle and a few were shown emerging from dome-like structures with purple smoke pouring from the tops. Beth had never seen such incredible detail in a picture. She found herself particularly drawn to one of the male’s faces. She studied the features carefully and felt a shiver up her spine as her eyes locked on his – it looked exactly like the dark-haired guy named ‘Daybian’ from town today.

  Turning the next few pages, she found a series of pictures of a snow-capped mountain range that matched the ones in the picture hanging above the fireplace. Dense, emerald, woodland surrounded them. The art was so realistic she could almost see the trees moving in the wind. She felt a cool breeze about her and looked to see if the window near her was open. It was shut and the curtains were still. The breeze picked up and she felt her hair move slightly back. A heady scent of pine and moss floated about in the air. Beth felt a soft, cold, wet drop on her face. She looked up to see if there was a leak in the roof above, although she could hear no rain.

  She touched her face and, to her amazement, found on her finger a perfectly formed snowflake.

  She slammed the book shut and leapt up, causing Maple to spring awake and land about three feet away.

  Okay. All getting way too weird, she mused and headed out to put the book back up on the shelf.

  Beth jumped as she heard the door handle turn and in bounced Maggie, breathless and red faced.

  “How was your day, dear? Did you enjoy exploring our little village?”

  “It’s great. I loved it. So many interesting little shops. Sure beats the massive malls I’ve been used to. I met Lionel’s nephew, Toby, and he walked me home.”

  Beth was wondering how to tackle the subject of the book experience, when Maggie broke her chain of thought as she excitedly babbled on.

  “Ah Toby, yes he is one-of-a-kind, that boy. Am so glad you’ll have him at the school. We all need a known face in new surroundings. Now, are you hungry? I thought we’d go up to the Scituate Country Club tonight. They have great food and live music. There’s always a crowd when tonight’s band is playing. There are sure to be a few people your age there. Always a good night – are you in?”

  “I’d love to, but what’s the dress code? I haven’t brought any formal gear.”

  “Uppity, of course. It’s a country club. However, you, my darling, are young and gorgeous and could wear a hessian sack like it’s a designer piece.” Maggie winked. “We’ll leave in half an hour, okay?”

  Beth had a quick shower and then looked at her wardrobe. The two dresses she had packed were from markets in Beijing. Like most fashion items there, they were copies of haute couture for a fraction of the price.

  She chose a rainbow, A-line shift dress and teamed it with her ‘dress Docs’. Until her luggage arrived, she would have to wear her Docs or trainers. She applied a light make-up. Her skin was already less pasty from her walk today so just some mascara and lip-gloss did the trick. She added a quick spritz of the new Van Cleef & Arpel’s fragrance, ‘Feerie’, which she had picked up duty-free. She had always loved anything to do with fairies, ever since she was a little girl, and the figure on the bottle made her feel so happy when she looked at it, like a talisman of good fortune for her new life in Scituate.

  Maggie was waiting in the lounge, resplendent in a floaty orange kaftan. She had arranged her hair in a chignon and several curls had escaped as she was attempting to pin them back in.

  “Beth, you’re divine! Lionel is coming to collect us and he’s always on time. Let’s head outside.”

  Lionel was already in the lighthouse driveway, his white pickup shining in the fading sunlight. He hopped out and raced to open the passenger door for Maggie. “Ahhh look at you – younger than springtime in your bright orange, and you, Beth, you’ll certainly give the beige brigade some fuel for their dinner conversations.” He helped Maggie in and then turned to open the rear door for Beth.

  “Wow! You, lovely lass, will have the Preppy boys lining up and you’ll keep their girlfriends busy—trying to keep the attention off you.”

  Beth blushed slightly. “Oh Lionel, I don’t know about that, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Maggie and Lionel bantered away in the front and Beth’s gaze was drawn towards the final stages of sunset. It was a vision of pink and orange hues. A few fluffy clouds scattered throughout the sky like fine pieces of cotton candy.

  As they drew up the long drive to the elegant, two-story white building, twinkling fairy lights made a picturesque frame over the portico.

  “Welcome to the prestigious Scituate Country Club,” Lionel quipped in an affected British tone.

  “Now, now, Lionel, behave with our young guest in tow,” Maggie chided.

  Dinner was scheduled to take place in one of the large ballrooms. Crisp white linen made a great backdrop for the bright red and green floral displays. As she made her way to their table, Beth spotted a large group of well-heeled people near the bar. A blonde girl was laughing with her head nodding enthusiastically in response to the broad, blazer-clad back of the tall guy facing her. She stopped nodding and cast an icy stare when she caught sight of Beth. “O.M.G. I didn’t realize I’d need my sunglasses, check out that blinder.”

  The guy she had been talking to turned around. His stare wasn’t icy at all as he took in the vision of Beth’s long legs and fresh look. The blonde poked at his arm to regain his attention.

  It was Daybian, looking even taller and more arrogant than last time. Beth felt her breath catch in her throat. She glanced away and looked down at the menu. There was a selection of three appetizers, mains and desserts. It all looked delicious. The waiter hovered about their table, waiting to take their order.

  “What’s your fancy, Beth?” Maggie asked. “I’ll just add that the seafood, of course, is magnificent.”

  “And freshly caught today,” added Lionel, his blue eyes twinkling. “You’ll be able to smell the salt water on it.”

  “Well, Lionel, you’ve sold me! Seafood it is. I’ll start with the Lobster Mac, then I think the Smoked Bluefish and the Boston cream pie for dessert.” Beth smiled.

  “Excellent choice.” The waiter turned to Maggie. “And fo
r you, Madame?”

  “Make that three of those, don’t you think, Lionel?”

  He nodded in agreement. “Sounds delicious, great to see a young ‘un with such an appetite. They like to get the orders in before the entertainment starts. Great band on tonight. They’ll do some originals, covers from other acts and, later in the night the real music starts, jigs and reels. Wait ‘til you see Maggie up there showing ‘em how it’s done. You’ll have to get up and give it a go too, Beth.”

  “Oh no, I have two left feet, Lionel. Dancing’s not a strong suit of mine.”

  “Nonsense, you have to dance. It’s Scituate tradition,” Maggie responded with a cheery, resolute tone.

  “Here’s the band now.” The band assembling on the stage stood warming up and sound checking their instruments and microphones. Beth looked up at the stage and watched with interest. She recognized Jerome from the music store tuning up on bass guitar. Looking to his left, she spotted the tousled silhouette of Logan. Beth’s heart skipped a beat as soon as she saw him. As he stepped into the stage light, a red glow was all about him. He was busily tuning his guitar and Beth was relieved that he didn’t appear to feel her eyes boring into him.

  “Beth, do you play any instruments?” Lionel asked.

  Beth quickly averted her eyes and answered Lionel. “No, I had some piano lessons in junior school but because we moved so much, I had to let it go so I’ve studied voice and theory the last couple of years. I love music though; I’ve chosen to study it for my final year.”

  “Well, you’re right to catch the music bug again while living here. Scituate is like a living soundtrack really. Comes from all the Irish bloodlines—” Lionel’s voice was interrupted as an announcement was made that starters would be served shortly so could people make their way to their tables. Beth looked up at the stage and tried not to be caught staring at Logan. He had the microphone ready and the band opened with an old Greenday cover. Logan’s voice expressed both a resonant timbre and a smooth as silk pitch, the kind of voice that seemed to stop all conversation. The band played other covers, some that Beth knew and some which were obviously older, or not on the Chinese or Indian radio stations.