Against the Tide by Melody Carlson Page A

with her grief if this madness continued. He knew she was strong, but he wondered how much she could take.
    He finished his conversation with Michael, slipping his phone back into his pocket, just as Megan stood up from straightening the Jeep. She looked at him with an uneasy expression. “I just don’t understand it, Garret. Something is going on here. But what is it? And why?”
    â€œI have some ideas.” Garret glanced at his watch. “Maybe we can discuss it over breakfast. I’m starved. How about you?”
    She nodded. “I’m hungry, too.”
    â€œWell, I’ve been told I make a pretty mean omelet,” he said as he led her out of the shop, sliding the door closed. “Care to give it a try?”
    â€œSounds good to me.”
    As they walked over to his cabin, he noticed that she’d changed into jeans, a plaid shirt and a sturdy-looking pair of walking boots. She looked much less like a city girl now. More suited to Cape Perpetua. And she looked pretty, too. She looked like the kind of girl he’d dreamed of meeting someday. Although he’d dreamed of different circumstances.
    â€œWelcome,” he said as he opened the door to the largest cabin, the one that had belonged to his grandparents.
    â€œWow, this is nice,” she said as she went inside.
    â€œThanks. My grandma had some renovations made, back in the nineties. There are some things I’d still like to change, but I’ve been focusing my efforts—and budget—on the fishing cabins, instead.”
    â€œFor fishing cabins, they seem pretty nice.” She went over to the big picture window that faced the river. “Wow, what a view.”
    â€œYeah, I like it. Feel free to look around while I start on breakfast.”
    She went to the oversize fireplace. “I love these river stones.” She ran her hand over the wood mantel, without mentioning the dust he knew was there. His housekeeping skills weren’t the greatest.
    â€œLet’s see.” He opened the fridge, looking to see what kind of options he might have to fill an omelet. “I’ve got mushrooms and spinach and onions and cheese and—”
    â€œThose all sound good,” she said with enthusiasm.
    â€œOkay.” He started setting the ingredients out on the counter by the stove.
    â€œNeed any help?”
    â€œDo you like coffee?”
    â€œLove it.”
    â€œKnow how to make it?”
    â€œI think I can figure it out,” she said with a trace of sarcasm as she went over to where the coffeemaker was next to the sink, making herself busy.
    As he chopped the veggies and shredded cheese, he felt grateful to his grandmother for insisting that he learn to cook as a teenager. He didn’t like to brag—especially to his macho friends—but he was pretty comfortable in the kitchen.
    With the coffee brewing, Megan came over to watch him. “Looks like you know what you’re doing,” she observed. “Impressive.”
    As he started to cook the omelet she sat down at the breakfast bar. “I have so many questions, Garret. Even more now than I had last night. I almost don’t know where to begin.”
    â€œI know.” He flipped the jumbo-size omelet then slipped a couple pieces of rye bread into the toaster. “I probably have a lot of the same questions.”
    â€œAnd it’s hard to process losing my dad,” she continued. “I mean, with all these questions racing through my head. And at the same time, I feel like I should watch my back. Like I’m not safe. You know?”
    â€œI know.” He got out a pair of mugs, filling them with coffee. “Take anything in yours?” He held a steaming mug out to her.
    â€œJust black.”
    He set it in front of her. “I can’t guarantee your safety, Megan. But I think this place is as safe as anywhere. For right now, anyway.”
    â€œThen you’re worried?”
    He