Page 2 of Hidden Harbor (Evergreen Rescue #1)

W e were silent on the drive back into town, consumed by our own thoughts. Our own worries. I could only hope we were wrong, that we’d spotted some misshapen debris, not human remains. But the navy bundle had looked eerily like a man in a rain jacket and jeans.

I shuddered. Mother Nature presented most of the dangers on the island: high winds bringing down trees, swift currents and shipping lanes, and all the perils that came with a semi-remote island.

Every few years we had a boating accident or something similar that made headlines, but it was usually reckless tourists falling prey to Mother Nature’s wrath. Not locals. Not someone we might know.

Friday Harbor was sleepy, an easy drive with no streetlights.

Our busy season hadn’t truly started. It’d be June before town filled with tourists eager to browse the island’s shops and explore its parks.

I felt lucky to have found the small community last year.

Island life suited me. The slow pace. The quiet.

We were isolated. Not impossible to reach, but difficult. It made me feel safe.

I drove up the hill, past the hardware store and the moped rental place, parking in our driveway.

The house I shared with Violet was cozy and cute.

We were only a few blocks from the heart of town, which made walking to the coffee shop better than fighting for parking.

Especially if the ferries were loading or the overflow lots were full, the drive to the coffee shop could take an hour.

“Everyone want to come to Harbor Brews with me?” Rae asked.

Vi, Lucy, and I nodded. I snuggled deeper into Drew’s coat as we shuffled down the hill to the waterfront and Zach’s coffee shop. The faint whiff of his soap made me wonder how they were faring on the trail. I’d probably have to wait for an update until after my yoga class.

Harbor Brews otherwise, I might join you.”

“If you’re not going to let me cancel, then I have to get to the studio for my next class.

How about coming over tonight for dinner?

” I glanced at my roommate, taking Vi’s nod as consent.

“I’ll throw together a big batch of pasta, if you want to invite your brothers and the other SAR volunteers,” I offered.

“We can thank them for rolling out of bed early on a Saturday morning and find comfort in carbs.”

“I’ll text them,” Vi said.

I squeezed Rae’s hand one last time and nodded to Lucy. “I’ll see you all tonight then.”

It was difficult to focus on yoga after the morning’s tragedy, but back-to-back classes kept me busy for most of the afternoon.

Flowing through the poses, putting my body through its paces, and guiding my students through a simple meditation helped release some of the stuck and stagnant energy collected from the morning.

Reinventing myself meant picking new hobbies.

I’d walked past a studio near my no-tell motel in Rapid City, South Dakota, and found my calling when I stepped inside.

Focusing only on what happened on my mat kept me centered and protected from my fears.

For one precious hour, I’d been able to ignore my racing thoughts.

I’d been convinced there was something sacred about those eleven square feet of floor.

But with each random studio, I discovered the same calm.

The same special magic. And I was hooked.

Serenity Yoga was my sanctuary. Purchasing the tiny studio on the edge of downtown was one of my best decisions.

A yoga studio couldn’t betray you. I pushed away the bitter thought.

Maybe it was destiny that I stumbled past that studio in Rapid City.

My Dharma, or path, born from the ashes of my old life.

I’d certainly landed on my feet, and for that I could be grateful.

“Goodnight, Anya. See you Tuesday.”

I waved to Merita Rodriguez, one of my regulars, and slowly went through my lockup procedures, checking windows.

When I’d taken over Serenity, it was a functional space.

Clean and crisp, but with all the personality of a corporate office building.

In the last year, I’d painted my primary studio a soft lavender, adding artwork and small touches to make the space feel more like a high-end living room, albeit one without furniture.

The outside space was given a similar makeover.

The prior owner had mostly let it go to weeds, not interested in using the courtyard for classes.

I loved outdoor yoga, so my first spring project was to overhaul the yard, yanking out the existing vegetation and replanting with a low carpet of soft groundcover and a border of lavender and rosemary.

When the weather cooperated, I offered outdoor classes.

Locals didn’t mind the ferry horn, and I loved the fresh air.

I checked the studio’s back door, then locked the front on my way out and trudged up the hill.

Our tiny house welcomed me, golden light shining from the windows.

A giant oak spread across the driveway. The house itself was tiny, overshadowed by the large trees.

It was sided in cedar shingles painted blue.

Beds of roses and snowcap daisies bobbed beneath the windows in the summer, but the spring flowers were just beginning to sprout and bloom by our mailbox.

C Street overlooked downtown. Our neighbors included a mix of bed-and-breakfasts and small homes.

We were close enough to hear the ferry, though trees and buildings obscured the harbor from view.

Our island was slowly waking from its winter slumber, getting ready for the crawl of tourists.

Soon, we’d have a steady flow of strangers trudging up the hill with us to their lodgings, lugging suitcases and grocery bags from the ferry.

Violet must have had her mom cover her shift at The Salty Pantry, the salt and spice shop her family owned, if she was home already.

The Fenwick family was minor royalty on island, and Violet their princess.

Which made Drew the heir and Zach the spare, though Violet spoke fondly of her brother Cole, who’d moved away.

The Fenwicks controlled a miniature empire on San Juan: a sea-salt farm, a boutique, the coffee shop, and a string of rental properties across the island.

They weren’t rich-rich like some of the estates established by off-islanders with more money than time, but they had their fingers in a shocking number of pies for such a small community.

Violet looked up from her Kindle as I opened the sliding door, entering the house from the back porch. “Hey. How were classes today?”

I slipped off my shoes and joined her in the living room. “Difficult to focus on, but word hasn’t spread yet about Jordan.”

Violet snorted. “Says the woman who hasn’t checked the What’s New, Friday Harbor page today. The island watch picked up on Sheriff Walker and the search and rescue crew’s presence almost immediately. There’s been wild speculation all day, but no one spilled the tea.”

“I imagine the sheriff is going to notify next of kin before putting out any kind of statement.”

Vi nodded. “Rae’s been with Jia, Jordan’s wife, all afternoon, trying to entertain the kids. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

“Any idea what he was doing near there? Did they find his boat?”

“No. Drew and Zach should have more information at dinner. You still up for cooking?”

“Um-hm.” I’d worn Drew’s jacket for the walk home. I should give it back to him, but something about the bulk and the hint of his scent comforted me.

“It’ll be Drew, Zach, Lee, and the park ranger who helped them with the search joining us tonight. I can run to the store if we don’t have enough to feed eight.”

Quickly, I calculated the ingredients in the pantry. “Maybe a few loaves of French bread?”

Violet wrinkled her nose. “We’ll have to make do with what’s at the grocery store. The bakery is already closed.”

I waved a hand. “That’s okay, enough garlic butter and parmesan and no one will care. Thanks, Vi. I’ll get started on the rest.”

Throwing together a basic Bolognese with bacon and veggies from the crisper took most of my concentration. Cutting the carrot and celery was an almost meditative task. Something I’d done hundreds of times before.

Shoving away thoughts of my old life, I focused on what was good about the present: Vi, Lucy, and Rae had become my squad.

The kind of friends I never dreamed of before.

The small community of Friday Harbor had welcomed me, if not with open arms, at least with the open-mindedness of an island community that had seen it all.

My tiny yoga studio turned a tidy profit, keeping me in pastries, coffee, and tea.

I couldn’t ask for more. The only thing missing was the one thing I could live without.

Men were more trouble than they were worth.

I silenced the nagging voice that dared to suggest my new name was just one of the many lies I clung to.