Read The Sandcastle Sister for Free Online Page A

cultured a habit of worrying about what other people think. What they whisper just out of earshot. It’s a terrible habit, but it’s hard to stop.
    As we draw near Hatteras Village, I leave off thrashing around in my own issues and begin wondering about this long-lost sister of ours. Is she really here on this island? Will we find her? What will happen if we do?
    “Can’t be much farther, I guess.” Lily points as we wind through Hatteras Village, surveying sleepy souvenir stores, water-sports rental stores lounging in the early spring sun, a library, a fire department, a welcome center. A sign indicates that the ferry landing is close. One more mile and we’ll drop off into the ocean.
    We pass a few more tourist traps, most sitting dark and quiet in the off-season. All of a sudden, the ferries and the marina lie just ahead on the right. Both of us lose our nerve at once. We decide to grab lunch at the quaint shopping center positioned at land’s end near the docks. While we’re eating, we watch boats of all sizes come and go from the marina. Is our sister on one of them? The place is larger than I’d imagined. What if we’re not even able to track her down?
    Yet I know it’s really the reverse I’m worried about. I’m afraid we will find her and open a Pandora’s box we won’t be able to close.
    “I keep lookin’ at everybody that goes by and wonderin’ if it’s her.” I barely hear Lily at first, but as I’m tuning in, I can’t miss the hope in her voice. She’s been building the meeting scene in her mind as we silently watch the water, lost in our own thoughts.
    “Lily, you have to be prepared for   —”
    “Don’t say it, okay? I know it might not work out like I want.” She pushes back from the table as if she’s afraid I’ll contaminate her.
    The next thing I know, she’s at the counter, asking the clerk for information. He’s friendly and forthcoming.
    “Yeah, you might still catch RC.” The guy gives her the flirty once-over, and I want to cross the room and shake a finger at him. It’s still hard to think of my little sister as a full-grown woman. “RC kinda comes and goes. Sometimes she’s out taking a boat into the shop, or she’s at the house with Johnny.” He continues on, telling us which slip number she was headed to when she came by for coffee this morning, then pointing us in the correct direction. “If there’s not a thirty-eight-foot Contender in the slip, she’s gone. If the boat’s there, she’s either on it working or she’s gone home for the day.”
    The clerk looks at me as I come closer, then squints at Lily Clarette again. Is he seeing a family resemblance to RC or just wondering why we’re here? He doesn’t say, but he does watch us intently as we go out the door. I’m left wondering if it’s just a flirt or if it means something.
    The March wind gives us a bracing shove as we round the corner on the boardwalk. Far in the distance, there’s weather rolling in. A nor’easter, maybe. I wrap my arms around myself as the breeze needles through my sweater, and beside me, Lily zips her jacket. It’s as if the island has changed moods while we were in the café. Now it feels wet, cold, and uninviting. Even a little threatening.
    My heart lurches as we find the right row and walk along it. Breath hitches in my chest and turns shallow. I strain to see around the hulls of other crafts, wondering if the thirty-eight-foot Contender is, indeed, in its place. At this point, I’m not sure what I’m hoping for.
    And then, there it is ahead   —the slip we’re after, and it’s not empty. A sleek-looking fishing boat rocks softly in the choppy water. The name painted on its stern seems almost an omen. Discovery Girl .
    A pile of rags and a bucket rest on the dock near the boat’s mooring lines. Bottles of Star Brite marine antifreeze sit on the hull. Metal pings echo from the cabin.
    Someone is inside.
    My heart knocks against my breastbone like a wood