Fisher's Light
Page 41

I hear the whoosh of the sliding glass door and turn to see Trip walk through it. He stares out at the ocean as he takes a seat in the rocking chair next to mine. We rock in silence for a few minutes before he finally speaks.
“You’re a stubborn one, Lucy girl. It’s always been one of the things I liked about you.”
I smile at his gruff voice, resting my head against the back of my chair.
“Sometimes, though, that stubbornness can make you blind to what’s right in front of you. I know you weren’t happy when I took that money Fisher gave you and paid for all the repairs on this place.”
I purse my lips, thinking back to that day a year ago when all I wanted to do was give up when I found out how much damage that busted pipe had done to the inn. I was still plenty angry about the divorce alone and, when I found out half of Fisher’s money had been deposited into my checking account without any notice, I was downright livid. I vowed never to touch that damn money, no matter what. Then, Trip went behind my back and touched it anyway.
“I realize you think of that money as a slap in the face, a way for him to prove he was better than you because he had more money, but you know him better than that.”
I stop rocking, turning my body to face the old man. “I thought I knew him better than that, but obviously I didn’t. Fine, so he didn’t send that money to be mean, but the damn monthly deposits were unnecessary and cruel and you know it. He wanted to erase the life we shared, but he still had to send those stupid reminders every month for the past year. Every month, right when I think I’m finally starting to forget that he’s out there somewhere, living a life without me, I get those damn deposits and it hits me all over again.”
Trip stops rocking, as well, and finally pulls his gaze away from the ocean to stare at me. “Wasn’t him, girl, and he didn’t know anything about it until you ripped him a new asshole. He had nothing to do with those monthly deposits, even though he would have given you every penny he had for the rest of his life if it were up to him. He knew better than to insult you like that, no matter how hard it was for him not to take care of you. If I’d known how pissy you were about that damn account, I would have told you the truth a long time ago so you didn’t jump to conclusions.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Trip Fisher, did you set up that account?”
He barks out a laugh and shakes his head at me. “I’m old, but I’m not stupid. You’d probably beat me with my own hammer if I did something like that. No, it wasn’t me. If you think about it hard enough, I’m sure you’ll figure out there’s one other person in the Fisher family who always had a soft spot for you.”
I stare at him quizzically for a moment before the answer smacks me in the face.
Shit.
Grace Fisher, the mother-in-law who tried her hardest to accept me when her husband hated the sight of me. She went out of her way to praise me when her husband wasn’t around, checked up on me when Fisher was deployed and made sure I was doing okay with the inn. I should have known she might do something like that, but my anger with Fisher made me blind to what was right in front of me, just like Trip said.
I feel awful. I tore into Fisher at the beach two weeks ago and he had no idea what I was talking about. I blamed him for something he didn’t do and let my anger get the best of me.
“He’s at my house, working on some stuff in the basement,” Trip says casually as he resumes rocking and staring out at the water.
“A little presumptuous of you, don’t you think? What makes you think I care where he is right now?”
Trip just laughs and ignores my question. Of course he knows I care, the man is like a damn mind reader and knows I’m going to feel guilty about what I just learned and want to apologize.
I push myself up casually from the rocking chair, making a show of stretching and acting like I don’t fully intend to hightail it straight to Trip’s house when I step off this porch.
“I think I’ll just check on some paperwork and call it a night. You gonna stay here for a little while?” I ask him casually.
He nods and gives me a wink. “Yep. Think I’ll sit right here for, oh, maybe an hour or two and enjoy your view. It’s the best one on the island. You have fun with your paperwork now, and don’t worry about me.”
Patting him on the shoulder, I turn and head to the sliding door and pull it open. Trip calls to me as I step inside.
“Spare key’s under the welcome mat on the front porch.”
I growl at him and slam the sliding door closed as I stomp through the house.
Irritating, meddling old man.
Pushing open the door to Trip’s house, I hear the soft cadence of music coming from the basement. I recognize the song immediately and my heart beats faster. “Storm” by Lifehouse was a song I played on repeat the first few weeks after Fisher left. I was like a teenage girl with a broken heart, listening to depressing songs while I cried out my pain against my pillow.
“If I could just see you, everything would be alright. If I’d see you, this darkness would turn to light.”
The song speaks of the person you love leaving you to drown, and it was a perfect representation of the loss I felt after Fisher left me. Listening to it back then ripped my already fragile heart into even smaller pieces. Hearing it now takes me back to that time and makes me want to claw at my chest.
I move in a daze, the sound drawing me in like it has a magnetic pull, needing to torture myself further with the softly broken words that haunted my dreams for months. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I pause and stare at the sight in front of me. Fisher, his back to me, is in a pair of tan cargo shorts and a dark blue t-shirt, bent over something he’s working on. The muscles in his arms ripple as he slides a piece of sand paper over the wood, pressing down hard to get it as smooth as possible.