She shook her head again.
“We’ll change our clothes once we get on the boat. And then we’ll go on a ferry ride! Are you ready?”
Evelyn placed Christina on her feet, jumped to a stand, and checked that her shoes were laced securely. Since she had everything ready to go, it took only a minute or so to get it all together. Evelyn pulled her hoodie over her head. She strapped the duffel across her body. She patted the pocket of her shorts to make sure her wallet was there, then zipped up Christina’s little jacket and covered her head with the attached hood. She knelt on the carpet and told her to climb on.
“Shoulders?”
“Not today. Just piggyback.”
With a quick check to make sure she left the keys on the bed, she opened the door and they were in the rain.
“Ahhh!” Christina hunkered down on her back. “I can’t see!”
Evelyn started to jog, alternating her attention between what was below and what was ahead. Tripping wasn’t an option. Her first priority was keeping Christina secure. Speed was secondary.
“Hold on tight! Don’t let go!”
“Okay!”
Once Evelyn made it to the paved road, she increased her pace, careful where she stepped, peering through the curtain of rain.
She was a fishmonger,
But sure ’twas no wonder,
For so were her father and mother before.
“Your voice sounds funny and bouncy, Aunt Cricket!”
She laughed.
And they each wheeled their barrows,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying . . .
“Cockles!”
And
“Mussels!”
Alive, alive, oh!
Unfortunately, a large bandstand with scaffolding had been erected in front of Fountain Square, which meant Evelyn had to loop around the mermaid statue to access Main Street. She adjusted her sweatshirt hood so that she could take a quick sideways glance at the majestic creature. The mermaid appeared serene and wise, immune to the rain or time itself. She smiled kindly, and for the oddest instant, Evelyn was sure that smile was meant especially for her.
Stop running. Trust him.
Evelyn pulled the hoodie to her face and picked up her pace. Her footfalls, her breath, the rush of the rain, the warm weight of her precious niece against her back—these things would keep her focused on what was real and get them to the dock safely. Because . . . of course the mermaid did not just speak to her!
Evelyn knew how high levels of stress could do a job on a person’s senses, but c’mon. If she had to have a hallucination, couldn’t it be something that could actually help her and not some random, off-topic mermaid lecture? And really. Stop running? As in stop running in the rain? Or stop racing? No problem. There weren’t too many marathons in prison. And the trust him thing? She was supposed to trust Richard Wahlman with Christina?
Not in this lifetime.
“Later, babe,” Evelyn muttered to the mermaid, merging once again with Main Street. She immediately realized this would be more of an obstacle course event than road race. On both sides of the street, along the two blocks from the fountain to the dock, were rows of craft show tents, some wrapped entirely in plastic to keep their treasures dry. People ran through the rain pulling carts, calling out to one another or unloading pickup trucks. She inhaled the beginnings of kielbasa and sauerkraut, barbecue, hot grease, and chili. Of course! Today was the big street fair, and that meant she’d have to run along the Main Street boardwalk, now slick with rain.