Mike got up from his table and walked directly across the deck to Daria. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned close to her ear, but he spoke loudly enough to be heard across the table.
“There’s an accident on 158,
around milepost 8,” he said.
“Two cars and a bicycle. Come with me.”
Daria shook her head.
“We’re short, Daria,” Mike sounded insistent. The skin on Daria’s shoulders was white from the pressure of his fingertips.
“Please,” he said.
“We need you.”
She shook her head wordlessly, her gaze on her key-lime pie, and Mike straightened up and left the restaurant. No one else had stopped talking, and a moment later, Daria raised her head again, smiling, joining in the conversation once more. Everyone chattered as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred, and Rory guessed he was the only person at the table to notice the tears in Daria’s eyes.
JLJaria pulled into the Sea Shanty driveway around ten that night, a good hour after leaving the restaurant. She’d sent Shelly home with Ellen and Ted and driven to milepost 8 and the scene of the fiery, deadly accident. She couldn’t say what drew her there. Perhaps she thought she would be able to help, but that was not the case. Oh, they needed her help, all right. But she’d merely lurked around the edge of the scene, just like the other curious onlookers, unable to make herself walk over to the ambulance to help her former EMTs deal with the havoc. The sense of being frozen in place, concealed by darkness, made her feel cowardly and useless, and she’d driven home in tears.
Getting out of her car, she was surprised to see Rory sitting alone on the front steps of the Sea Shanty. Her heart filled at the sight of him. She’d figured he would still be with Grace. He’d been so solicitous of her during dinner. Walking toward him, she hoped it was too dark for him to tell she’d been crying.
“Hi there,” she said, making her voice light and cheerful She sat down next to him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you to get home,” he said.
“Oh,” she said, pleased.
“Well, here I am.”
“Ellen said you went to check on that accident,” he said.
“Yeah, I did. One car swerved to avoid a cyclist and crashed into another car. The cyclist was hit, anyway. I think someone in one of the cars was killed. Both cars were on fire.” She recounted the scene in a flat tone to avoid feeling anything as she spoke.
Rory winced.
“Sounds horrible,” he said.
“It was.” She knew she’d have another of her nightmares that night.
Even though she’d hung back, even though she was not even certain if the cyclist was male or female, she knew the pilot would be back to haunt her.
“I really admire you,” Rory said.
“I can’t imagine doing that sort of work. And the fact that you do it on a volunteer basis makes it even more impressive.”
“Did it,” she said. She didn’t deserve the credit he was giving her.
“I wasn’t there to help. I only watched.”
“I don’t understand,” Rory said.
“It was obvious you were upset when your friend, Mike, tried to persuade you to go with him. I figured you and he had some sort of…” His voice trailed off.
It took her a moment to understand, and she laughed.
“Mike? No. Not at all.”
“Then what was holding you back?” he asked.
“And if you went over to the accident, why didn’t you help?”
“It’s a long story,” she said.
“And not very interesting.” She needed a change of topic.
“So, how was your evening?” she asked.
Rory hesitated, as if deciding whether to allow her this abrupt switch in the conversation. Then he gave in.
“Well, I have to say I don’t really understand Grace,” he said.
“She seems to want to be with me, yet she doesn’t seem particularly interested in me… in a romantic sense, if you know what I mean.”
Daria tried to mask her relief.
“No, I’m not sure what you mean.” She wanted to hear more.
