Beneath the Scars

Finally, his hand lifted in a brief wave. I looked down at Dixie, smiling, taking it as an invitation. “Let’s go meet our neighbor, girl.” Looking up, my steps faltered. He had retreated and was already at the top of the stairs, his large dog right behind him. It was obvious; he had no desire to meet me.

“Unfriendly,” Karen had said. “Closed off.”

“Private,” Chris had insisted. “Reserved.”

I watched him disappear and assumed he went inside. His house was even larger and more imposing in the daylight; built in stone and cedar, high above the water, set amongst the trees, a fortress unto itself. Private and closed off—much like the man himself.

I sighed—unfriendly, indeed. Rude was more like it. I had wanted to introduce myself—nothing more. Our dogs had already met and become friends. I shook my head, deciding it didn’t matter. I wasn’t here to meet new people or make friends. I was here to find some peace and solace, then get back on track with my life.

Rude neighbor or not!* * *“You find everything all right, dear?”

I smiled at Mrs. Cooper. “Everything was great. Thank you for the extra things you left. I never even thought of some bread for toast. The butter I bought was for my popcorn.”

“Not a problem. Are you heading right back to the house?”

“I thought I’d look around a little, actually.”

“Excellent. The gallery down the street is lovely. I’ll have Mr. Cooper load up your car, while you wander around. Not everything is open this time of year. But if you’re hungry the café makes a great lunch.”

“Thanks. I’ll check it out.”

“Where’s that little dog of yours?” Mrs. Cooper grinned as she looked behind me.

I chuckled. “I left her at home, sleeping. She had a big walk on the beach this morning.” I paused. “We met another dog while we were walking—a golden retriever. Very friendly.”

“That would be Elliott. Zachary’s dog.”

Ah, the neighbor had a name. It was only then I realized Karen had never mentioned it and I had never thought to ask. “I didn’t meet him. He never came down to the beach.”

For the first time since I met her, Mrs. Cooper looked sad. “Zachary is very, ah, private. He pretty much keeps to himself.” I was sure I heard her utter “poor man,” but it was so quiet I could have been mistaken.

“I waved at him.”

She smiled, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Did he wave back?”

I shrugged. “After a fashion. I got the feeling he wasn’t interested in meeting me.”

“Don’t take it personally, dear. A wave is more than most people in town have had the entire time he’s been living here. As I said, he keeps to himself.”

Her tone told me she had nothing more to say about my private neighbor. So, I smiled, thanked her again and told her I would see her in a few days.

Once outside, I looked up and down the rather deserted streets. I could imagine, during the warm, summer season, the sidewalks would be full of people—tourists checking out the local wares and eating in the restaurants—but right now it was like a ghost town except for locals. A grim smile curved my lips; it was exactly what I needed.

As I waited to cross the street, an SUV with dark-tinted windows drove past me and turned the corner. It was very new and shiny, which seemed out of place amidst the various older-style cars parked around town. I frowned, watching it drive away, having no idea why I even noticed it, other than the fact it was going so slow. I continued my exploration of the shops, stopping in at a couple of places. I picked up some more bread and cookies at the local bakery, a few bottles of wine, then went into the café and had a quick lunch. Mrs. Cooper was right—the food was very good, so I got some soup to go for the next day.

After leaving my purchases in the car, I decided to visit the gallery Mrs. Cooper mentioned. The sign in the window told me they featured local artists; again, I was sure in the summer they did a brisk business. A bell over the door chimed as I stepped inside. It was empty, but I could hear voices coming from the back of the shop. A man appeared a moment later, smiling, assuring me he would be right with me. I smiled too and told him I was browsing, so not to hurry.

The glass cases held an impressive collection, and not what I expected. There were none of the cheesy, touristy things I expected to find. Instead, there was beautiful stained glass, delicately carved woods, handmade silk scarves and jewelry laid out in a tasteful manner. I suppressed a grin. Karen must love this place.