Those Cassabaw Days by Cindy Miles Read Free Book Online

still a ham, you know that?”
    Eric smiled wider. “That’s no answer.”
    Emily waved. “Bye, Eric.”
    He just laughed and shook his head.
    When Matt stopped the truck, Emily walked to the driver’s side and waved to his brothers. “Bye, guys. See ya round.”
    Matt slid past her as she jumped in and closed the door. On the passenger’s side, he climbed in, reached over and killed the engine. “Now you start it.”
    Emily did as he asked and pushed in the clutch, then started the engine. Although the engine felt a little stiff, she shifted into First and started down the shady drive. At the end of it, she pulled out onto the two-lane, picked up speed and shifted into Second, heading for the boardwalk.
    “Not bad,” Matt remarked. “Hit Third.”
    It took a little muscle, but Emily shifted once more. The gear grinded a bit, but caught and they continued on.
    “Eric’s right. This thing is a beast,” she said, giving Matt a quick look. “But I’m grateful to have it. Thanks.”
    Along the road, the dusk shadows lurched beneath the canopy, and the salty late-May breeze blew in through the opened windows. Matt’s presence beside her filled the cab of the old truck—he was almost crowding her and she felt a fluttering in her stomach. He had this smoky voice that she liked listening to. And that profound, brooding stare unsettled her—or rather, her reaction to it did.
    “You remember Miss Mae Kennedy? She still lives there,” Matt said, pointing out a coral-colored cottage with a white concrete seahorse mailbox as they moved through the little neighborhood.
    “She’s the lady who was friends with your mom in high school, wasn’t she?” Emily asked. “She used to make those chocolate cupcakes with white frosting and bring them over to your house, every single week.”
    Matt’s gaze stayed on the house as they passed it. “Yeah, she did. I stopped by to see her after I got here.” He looked at her. “I don’t remember my mom, Em. Only in pictures. I remember yours, though.” He quieted for a moment. “She laughed a lot. Like you.”
    Downshifting, Emily rolled to a stop at the intersection and held Matt’s gaze in the hazy light of dusk. Matt’s mom had died of cancer when he was four, leaving Owen and Jep to raise three small boys. Eric had just turned a year old.
    “Yeah, she did. I remember her, too,” Emily answered. The ache she always got when she missed her parents settled into the pit of her heart.
    “It still hurts,” Matt said pointedly.
    Emily nodded. “Sometimes. It’s like someone is squeezing my insides in their hand.” The light turned green, and she started forward. “I was so angry for a while. Like they left me on purpose or something. But I have mostly good memories. I choose to focus on and remember those. They’re fun, and they make me feel happy.”
    “So what does being here do?”
    Emily followed the curve, and the gray Atlantic coastline came into view. She sighed.
    “I’m not sure yet, Matt Malone.” She glanced at him, and he regarded her closely. “I’m sort of winging this whole alone thing. But right now it feels...right to be here.” It felt right that Matt was here, too.
    Wordlessly, he nodded.
    The backside of the Windchimer came into view, and Emily slowed and pulled the truck into the small parking lot behind the café. The old Chevy’s door squeaked as she opened and closed it, and Matt rounded the truck and stood close to her. Again, she felt crowded, as if Matt’s body took up all the space and air surrounding her. The sounds of the surf breaking, gulls crying and a lone wind chime tinkling in the wind infiltrated Emily’s senses nearly as much as Matt’s presence did. It threw her into sensory overload. She breathed in the sea air.
    “Well,” Matt said. He rubbed his head with his hand, then dragged his fingers across his jaw. He glanced behind her. “Let’s go check it out.”
    Even in the fading light of dusk, the way Matt studied