A Spirited Gift

“There are serious problems needing yer attention.” Rafe waited impatiently, the heel of his booted foot stamping on the hardwood floor. As the line of residents moved forward, so did he—until he was standing at the desk, his hands on the pistols he wore at either side of his hips.

Funny how I’d never noticed those pistols in the portrait or during our encounter in the bar. Maybe it had been an oversight on my part. Or maybe he’d added them from his ghostly wardrobe.

I also had never realized from his portrait what a large man he was—wide hips and shoulders, long legs and arms. Probably scared people long before they saw his cutlass unsheathed.

“I need a word with ye,” he said, glaring at Nancy. “Ditch the woman.”

“Thanks for your help, Dae,” Nancy said. “Is it me or is it getting colder in here?”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I’m going over to Missing Pieces for a while if you need me again.”

“Okay, sweetie.” She hugged me. “Be careful out there. One of the maintenance men went to the hospital with a concussion this morning after a trash can fell on him.”

“I know I shouldn’t ask—how’d he get under a trash can?”

“It was on the roof of the community center. Crazy, right?” She laughed but not in a mean way—Nancy doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. But both of us had seen some weird things while taking care of Duck for the past two years.

“Simpering, blubbering female,” Rafe grumbled as I walked out of town hall with him at my side.

“She is not,” I corrected him when we were out of earshot. “Not that you’d know the difference.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Because you’ve probably never known anyone like Nancy.” I waved to Trudy as she worked on Mrs. Marsh’s hair at her salon, still without power. “Women are different now. I don’t expect you to understand that, since you’re a pirate and all.”

“Are you saying I’m daft or addlepated? Mind your words, girl!”

“Or what? You’ll jump back into your picture frame?”

He laughed—a loud, arrogant kind of laughter like you’d expect from a big pirate. “Oh, I can do much more than that. You see that window over there? The one ye were so happy yesterday that it had escaped the storm?”

Before I could respond, he took a deep breath and blew hard on the glass. It didn’t break but it splintered into a thousand lines.

“I can’t believe you did that!” I stormed at him. “Now I’ll have to get it replaced. What was the thinking behind that?”

“Eh? I don’t understand what you mean. My own kin—not able to speak the King’s English.”

I didn’t bother with a reply. For one thing, August Grandin walked by with a nod of his head, his Meerschaum pipe in his teeth. The smoke blew in my face as he passed—a sweet smell of fruit-scented tobacco.

“Now that’s a man.” Rafe followed August toward the Duck General Store. I took the opportunity to hide in Missing Pieces. It would be nice if he couldn’t find me. But it didn’t seem to work that way.

If I had to have a ghost attached to me, why wasn’t it one of our stalwart Duck female role models?

I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath, relieved to be alone.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” a familiar voice said. “I wanted to thank you for your help yesterday.”

I wasn’t alone after all. My father had finally come calling.

Chapter 17

“Your name is Dae O’Donnell, right?” he asked with a little smile playing across his lips. He needed a shave, and there were scratches on his cheeks and forehead. “Mayor of Duck!”

“Yes.” I wondered if he still recognized the name. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?”

“Nah. They released me when they found out I didn’t have health insurance. Besides, they needed the bed.”

“Well, maybe you should be at home then. I could drive you, if you need a ride.” My heart was hammering in my chest. Why was I so nervous? After all, he was my father, though he didn’t know it.

“Trying to get rid of me?” He got up from the burgundy brocade sofa and came closer. “I bet your mom and your grandpa have been telling you all kinds of bad stuff about me.”

I could honestly say neither one of them had mentioned him—at least not until I asked. “No. Not really. Would you like some tea?”

“Nothing stronger?”

“No. Sorry. I have some strong tea—that’s about it.”

“That’s okay.” He stopped at the counter that I’d put between him and me. “You know, I recognized you yesterday at the accident. You come into the Sailor’s Dream once in a while and order rum and Coke, right?”

“Yep. That’s me.” I wished I could think of something fascinating to say to him. But glib conversation was difficult for me with him.

“That’s why I asked about you. You look just like your mom. How is she, by the way? Happy with Mr. Right?” He looked up at me with a cunning knowing in his blue eyes. “I guess since your name is O’Donnell, Mr. Right either never came along or left real sudden.”