Free Mistwalker by Saundra Mitchell

shape I’d seen on Jackson’s Rock—out there, fishing alone, and that reminded me. I
was
guilty. Afraid. Angry. That’s all that put me on the beach. I gritted my teeth; going to this party was like going to war.
    I was going to drink and laugh and dance. Burn my fingers on littleneck clams and steamed corn. If somebody wanted money for a grocery run, I had it. If Seth wanted to disappear into the caves with just us and a blanket, I was up for it.
    Circling the fire, I raised my hand when Cait Toombs looked up from a kiss. She was all soft and twined around Bailey. Her wispy hair floated around her face, shimmering from the heat. Instead of waving, she smiled. Her lips moved, and then Bailey looked back at me too.
    “Well, look who graced us,” Bailey called.
    I flipped her off and pressed my way through the crowd to get to her.
    “Dad home yet?” she asked when I got closer.
    “Uh huh, this morning sometime.”
    “Is he okay?”
    With a shrug, I said, “Fine. You know how he is.”
    Cait tried to make room for me, which was sweet, but it wasn’t gonna happen. Since we used driftwood for benches around the fire, there was always a free one for the taking. Dragging a piece over, I arranged it so I could put my back to the fire and my face to them. And to the sea behind them, to the fog rolling in.
    Sitting, I gestured at Bailey and said, “I’m pissed at you for messing with my head.”
    Bailey read my tone better than Cait did. While Cait stiffened, Bailey kicked my boot. “Good. Which time?”
    I lowered my voice. “I went out today by myself.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah.” I nodded, my gaze trailing past them, to the shadow of the island in the distance. The flick, the glitter, was gone. “So I’m getting ready to haul some traps, over on the far side of Jackson’s Rock. Minding my own business.”
    Bailey smirked. “Uh huh.”
    “I go and look up, and
pow
. There’s the Grey Man. Watching me.”
    Dissolving into laughter, Bailey leaned into Cait. Lacing their fingers together, she settled. She managed to kick my boot again first, though. “Oh, kiss it, Dixon. If you’re seeing things, that’s your problem.”
    Part of me was relieved. Legends weren’t real, and I was crazy to think I’d seen one. Hearing Bailey say so made me feel better. There was still a part left over, quietly urging me to look toward Jackson’s Rock. I thought as long as the fire burned and the music played, I could ignore it.
    “I have an uncle who saw the Grey Lady,” Cait said.
    Bailey looked at her, amused. “Is that crazy Uncle Jon?”
    “No, crazy Uncle Jon swears that time-traveling Navy ship capsized his dory.”
    Caught up in the absurdity, in the absolute normalcy, I laughed. “What the what?”
    Cait shrugged. “I can’t remember, it’s a city and a worky word. The Manhattan Project? The Philadelphia Experiment? They were inventing invisibility and disappeared in time.”
    “I’m pretty sure one of those is a movie.” Amused, I held up my hands and swore, “I’m not judging.”
    Cait stuck out her lower lip and blew her bangs out of her face. “Anyway, that’s Uncle Jon. Great-Uncle Dalton’s the one who saw the Grey Lady.”
    “Wait, the raisin?” Bailey asked. Then, incredulously, she informed me. “He’s a thousand years old.”
    “He’s ninety-eight.”
    “Same thing. He’s the mummy at Thanksgiving.”
    “That’s my family, Bailey,” Cait said, but she rolled her eyes and smiled about it. In reply, Bailey crinkled her nose, and I looked away to give them some privacy. As much as they could get making out on a beach in the middle of everybody we knew, anyway.
    Before they forgot I was there, I cleared my throat. “So was there more to this story?”
    Cait smoothed her knit cap. “Not really. I mean, there is, but he mumbles—”
    “And smells like rum,” Bailey added.
    “Who doesn’t?” I asked, and hauled myself up. Dangling the six-pack near them, I waited until they waved me